#and they really only talk telepathically on this form

[lilpuffyart]

Gonna throw this wip as well

Can you guys watch over them while I sleep

Thanks

[nursehound]

i huess i have 1 evil eddie story and one nicey eddie story. the nicey one has a lot to do with pyg putting her hand up his back and making him say crazy shit . something something communication fantasy

[syrecjh]

─ .✦˚˖🎀⋆The Soft Spot He Pretends He Doesn’t Have

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

The BakuSquad runs loud. Like explosions in human form — laughing too hard, tackling each other over dumb jokes, slinging insults that somehow mean I love you in their own language.

And Katsuki Bakugo is always in the middle of it.

Always shouting. Always scowling. Always calling Kaminari a dumbass, Mina a raccoon, and Sero a noodle with tape for brains.

Except — and this is something everyone knows but no one says —he doesn’t yell at you.

He never has.

Not even when you’re late. Not even when you steal his fries. Not even when you tease him.

Especially when you tease him.

He calls you idiot sometimes, sure — but it’s different. No bark. No bite.

More like the way someone might mutter sweetheart if they’d rather die than say the word.

You’re part of the group. You’re chaos and comfort all at once. You rib Kirishima over his playlist choices and you threaten to unplug the console when Kaminari gets cocky. You sing off-key with Mina during long walks home and pull Sero into late-night baking experiments that end in kitchen disasters.

But with Bakugo?

There’s something else.

He’s still him, of course. Still sharp around the edges. Still the human embodiment of a fireworks finale.

But when it comes to you, he’s… softer. Calmer. Like a lit match that doesn’t burn unless you ask it to.

He listens more. Talks lower. Stands closer without realizing. Sometimes he’ll shove a drink into your hand before you even ask, grumbling something about you “not drinking enough water, dumbass,” while refusing to meet your eyes.

Once, you tripped during a mission and skinned your knee. It wasn’t serious. Barely even stung.

But Bakugo had turned around so fast it was like you’d been shot. He crouched beside you, voice tight and low, hands steady and too gentle for someone who could level a building.

“You okay?” he asked.

You blinked. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Tch.” He stood up stiffly, eyes flicking away. “Then stop falling behind. Moron.”

But later, when you pulled off your boots, you found a new bandage there — perfectly wrapped.

And that’s just… how he is with you.

No one really brings it up, not directly. But the others have noticed.

They notice how he sits closer to you on the couch.

How he only ever shares his food with you.

How he waits for your reaction before laughing at a joke.

And today — today, they decide they’ve had enough.

“Okay,” Mina blurts, eyes wild and glittering, “can we all agree that Bakugo is weirdly nice to Y/N?”

“I knew it wasn’t just me,” Kaminari groans, dropping his head on the table. “He let her borrow his jacket last week. You know how sacred that jacket is?”

“Guys,” you laugh nervously, nudging your tray of snacks toward them, “he’s not nice, he’s just—”

“He peeled an orange for her,” Sero says, voice hollow with disbelief. “An. Orange.”

You’re mid-sip of your drink and nearly choke. “That wasn’t—he just had nails and I didn’t—!”

“He doesn’t yell at her,” Kirishima says seriously, like it’s a war crime. “I’ve watched this man scream at a tree for dropping sap on his shoulder. But she bumps into him, spills his protein shake, and he just… sighs.”

You cover your face, heat crawling up your neck.

Mina gasps. “Wait. Wait. Katsuki Bakugo likes her.”

Bakugo walks in just as she says it.

The room freezes.

You peek through your fingers to see him pause in the doorway, frown curling like thunderclouds, gaze flicking over all of you.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” he mutters.

“Noooothing,” Mina sings, too fast.

Bakugo’s eyes narrow.

And then he sees you.

All the tension in his shoulders shifts — not vanishing, just reshaping. He walks over without a word and sets a cold drink beside you.

Your favorite one.

“Did you eat?” he asks quietly, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

You nod mutely, eyes wide.

He nods back, barely noticeable. Then, with a glance at the others — still frozen like they’re trying to telepathically record this — he mutters, “Mind your own damn business,” and flops onto the couch beside you.

Not across from you. Not near you.

Beside you.

And as he picks up the remote, body brushing yours, you hear Sero whisper:

“...He didn’t deny it.”

And you?

You don’t deny the way your heart flutters either.

Part 2

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “fell for you”.

| summary | Mark didn't know that being clumsy had its advantages. | cw | fluff, strangers to something else, meet-cute?, kiiinda of love at first sight, mark is downnn bad, mark is shy but HE GOT THIS!!| | a/n | my beautiful @peterm4rker, feliz cumpleeee!! i hope you have an amazing day, thank you for being alive, i only exist on your cellphone, so all i can do for u is a silly fic, but i did it with love 😔 TUMBLR SABOTAGED ME AND DIDN'T POST, I CAN'T BELIEVE I FAILED I HAD ONE JOB 😭😭😭 i hope u like it EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCI WE LOVE YOU!!!

Mark hadn’t been able to tear his eyes off you since the moment you stepped onto the dance floor. Actually, it started even earlier, when you accidentally bumped into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink all over himself.

He’d only caught a brief glimpse of you then, but it was enough. The image of you had carved itself into his mind like a permanent imprint—your eyes, framed by just the right touch of color, glowing with a playful spark. Your lips, glossy and shining, curved into a polite little smile as you muttered a quick apology.

He barely managed to say “it’s okay” in return, too stunned to form anything more coherent. He was usually the type to get flustered easily, yes, but something about you completely disarmed him.

From that moment on, his attention was glued to you for the rest of the night. He watched the way you moved so effortlessly with the rhythm, the sway of your body in perfect sync with the music, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, bright and carefree. You leaned in to say something to a friend, smiling as they nudged you playfully, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes followed every motion like a magnet.

He wasn't completely sure, but he could’ve sworn you glanced his way a few times too—just quick flickers of your eyes in his direction, barely enough to be sure, but enough to set his nerves on fire.

Watching you from across the room, radiant and completely in your element, Mark stood frozen in place, drink hanging loosely from his fingers, heart pounding in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

“Is that a new flirting technique?” Chenle’s voice cut through the music, amused and sharp, but Mark’s eyes remained glued to you.

“What?” Mark replied absently, not tearing his gaze away. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Chenle huffed, reaching out to nudge Mark’s chin up with two fingers, “are you trying to send telepathic signals until she magically develop the ability to receive them?” He gave Mark a pointed look. “Because you’ve been standing here with your mouth open drooling like a golden retriever for the past thirty minutes.”

“I’m not doing that,” Mark grumbled, frowning as he crossed his arms, voice defensive like a kid caught red-handed.

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” Chenle snorted, the sarcasm practically dripping. He took a sip of his drink, raising a brow at his friend. “Seriously, just go talk to her. Is it really that difficult? You’re acting like she’s gonna bite.”

Mark shot him a side-eye. “What if she does?”

“You’re right, she might,” Chenle replied, casually glancing in your direction—just in time to catch the not-so-subtle way you were watching Mark from across the room, nibbling on your lower lip with your eyes slightly narrowed. “She definitely looks like she wants to,” he added with a smirk. “But I don’t think it’s the kind of bite you’re worried about.”

Mark’s brows rose slightly, caught off guard by Chenle’s words. His gaze flicked toward you instinctively—and, oh.

You were looking right at him. No mistaking it this time. Eyes locked, lip between your teeth in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a split second.

“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Chenle let out a laugh, elbowing him. “See? Told you. She’s just waiting for you to stop being a coward.”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don't even know what to say to her.”

“You're talking like a fucking loser, Mark,” Chenle deadpanned, already on the move. He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and started to shove him forward, away from the bar and toward the dance floor. “You’ve done all kind of stuff and now you're scared of a pretty girl?”

“I wasn’t mentally prepared for a goddess tonight,” Mark hissed under his breath, feet dragging against the floor.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive. Just say hi. Or smile. Or blink in Morse code if that’s easier.”

He wanted to protest, to resist his friend's insistence, maybe even run back to the safety of the bar stool, but before he knew it, his feet had betrayed him. There he was, standing just a few steps behind you, frozen in place, staring at the back of your figure illuminated by the flashing lights.

He glanced at Chenle, who was grinning like the absolute menace he was, waving mockingly from the distance, mouthing something like “Good luck.”

Mark inhaled deeply, trying to steady the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. Okay. No turning back now.

He took one slow step forward, then another, using the few seconds he had before reaching you to rehearse every possible conversation in his head—witty lines, casual compliments, charming openers. He even prepared for rejection in all its brutal forms, from polite smiles to awkward laughs.

But he was so absorbed in the panic of how not to embarrass himself and how to maybe, somehow impress you, that he completely missed the fact that his shoelaces were undone.

And just like that, two seconds later, he was tripping over his own feet and stumbling straight into your direction, at the exact moment you turned around.

“Woah!” you gasped, instinctively catching him as he practically collapsed into your arms.

Mark was pretty sure this was how people died of embarrassment. His hands instinctively gripped your arms to steady himself, eyes wide as he looked up at you from his not-so-elegant lean.

"I—uh—hi," he stammered, frozen for a beat. "That wasn't... That wasn't part of the plan."

A soft laugh slipped from your lips, light and melodic, and even with the music pulsing loudly around you, he heard it clearly. The sound clung to his ears like a favorite song, and Mark was pretty sure it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“I’ll give you points for impact,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you watched him clumsily pull away, trying to regain some composure.

“Thank you,” he replied, sheepish, one hand instinctively reaching to rub the back of his neck. He was silently grateful for the club’s low lighting and the swirl of neon colors around you, hiding the fierce red blooming across his cheeks.

“That wasn’t exactly how I planned to come talk to you, but…” he let out a nervous chuckle, stealing a quick glance at your face, still surprised you hadn’t just walked away. "I'm Mark, by the way.”

He extended his hand—like an idiot, he thought—but couldn’t help the flicker of relief that crossed his face when you took it without hesitation, your fingers warm against his. You said your name, and it echoed in his head like a melody. God, what a beautiful name.

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” you replied, his name rolling off your tongue so smoothly it made his heart skip.

Was his name always this nice to hear, or was it just your voice?

“Do you go around falling into every girl’s arms you're interested in, or...?” your tone were playful, your eyes filled with amusement.

“That was actually only for you,” he said, flashing a smile so charming it made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Oh, so I'm the lucky one?” you teased, tilting your head as a grin tugged at your lips.

“I’m the lucky one, actually,” he replied without missing a beat, brows raising slightly as if the words had just slipped out. “Can I, um, get you a drink?”

His nervous look was absolutely adorable, you could never deny it, not that you were planning to. “Of course, lead the way.”

To say Mark was in disbelief over how well things were going—especially after that mortifying entrance—would be an understatement. But here you were, smiling at him, saying yes. He wasn’t about to question his luck.

As the two of you made your way to the bar and shared drinks, the atmosphere gradually relaxed. The alcohol helped a little, sure, but it was mostly you. You made things easy. You were attentive, engaged, and just… so genuinely interesting. Every new thing you said made him want to know more.

He was pretty sure he could get addicted to you.

“Oh, so you’re a singer, a songwriter, and you dance?” you asked, a playful eyebrow raised as your chin rested on your palm, eyes locked on his. “Can’t believe I’m talking to a celebrity right now.”

“Ah, come on,” he rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lip, which only widened when your laughter followed. “I just have a lot of hobbies, that’s all.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow. Hobbies? What happened to being humble?” you teased, giving his shoulder a light push. “Next thing you’ll say is you’re only kind of good at them.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “I mean… I’m decent,” he said, feigning modesty.

That made you laugh even harder, the sound bubbling out effortlessly. “Okay, okay then…” you said, glancing around the lively club for a beat before turning your eyes back to him—your gaze bright with amusement, excitement gleaming in your irises. “Since I can’t exactly fact-check the singing and songwriting right now, how about we test the dancing?”

Mark blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden switch, but your smile was too contagious, too inviting for him to say no.

“You want to dance?” he asked, a flicker of nervousness playing at the edge of his voice.

“Yes, let’s go!” you beamed, and before Mark could even get another word out, you were already grabbing his hand, tugging him with you toward the dance floor with that same infectious energy that had him hooked from the start.

The lights spun wildly above, the bass of the music thumping through the floor and right into his chest, but nothing felt as loud or electric as the warmth of your hand in his.

You turned to him once you found a spot, your fingers still loosely wrapped around his, your smile mischievous. “C’mon, don’t be shy now,” you teased, already swaying to the rhythm, tugging him gently by the hands to encourage him.

Mark chuckled, eyes glinting as he let himself be pulled into your orbit. At first, his movements were a bit hesitant, his usual confidence caught somewhere between the thump of the music and the closeness of you. But your energy was infectious—your laughter, the way you danced so freely, it all made him forget about being shy.

Soon enough, he was matching your pace, still a little clumsy, sure, but no longer holding back. And God, he was having fun. He couldn’t stop smiling. Not when you were so close, not when your body brushed against his in rhythm, not when he could smell your perfume each time you twirled back into him. It was dizzying. It was perfect.

Especially because it was you.

“You weren’t lying about being a dancer, huh?” you teased, voice softer now with the mellow change in music.

The two of you swayed gently, pressed close. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, while his hands rested on your hips—though only after you had guided them there, because he was adorably awkward about it at first.

“Can’t wait to know more about your other ‘hobbies’,” you added, flashing him a knowing smile.

“Oh, so you want to know more about me?” he asked, brows lifting, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I thought that was obvious since we sat down to talk and have a drink?” you shot back, raising your brows with the same playful energy.

Mark laughed, that kind of breathy, boyish laugh that warmed your chest. “Okay, okay… I was too nervous to notice that.”

His confession had you laughing, your head tipping forward until your forehead rested gently on his shoulder. Mark stood perfectly still, caught in the quiet moment, letting himself inhale the soft, warm scent of your hair.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to be more direct with you?” you asked, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes, your own twinkling with mischief.

“Well…” he gave a sheepish smile, his head swaying side to side. “It might help me out a little.”

That made you chuckle again, the sound curling around his ribs like sunshine.

“Alright then…” you paused, humming as if in deep thought, your gaze flicking down to his lips for a beat too long. “Can I kiss you?”

His heart practically leapt into his throat.

He blinked once. Then twice. “God, yes,” he breathed, the words escaping before he could even try to play it cool.

His endearing reaction had you chuckling and giving him a soft, warm gaze that completely melted him. You moved closer, and he followed without hesitation, as if pulled by some invisible string, completely enchanted.

Your lips hovered just a breath away from his, and his heart thundered in his chest. Then you leaned in, nibbling gently on his lower lip, teasing him with the kind of ease that made his knees threaten to give out.

“You are so cute,” you giggled softly, your voice brushing against his lips like velvet.

Was that even legal? He swore you were trying to kill him.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered back, voice low and reverent. Then, finally, he closed the remaining space between you.

His hands slid up to your neck, holding you tenderly as if you were something precious—because to him, you already were. His thumbs drew slow, soothing circles just under your ears, grounding him as your lips met fully.

The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, almost shy, but full of feeling. It deepened gradually, growing warmer, more certain, as your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

He only pulled away because, unfortunately, he needed to breathe if he didn’t want to literally die from kissing you (though, honestly, he wouldn’t mind if that were how he went).

“I think I like you,” he murmured, voice soft as he pressed a featherlight kiss to your lips again, his cheeks tinged with the sweetest shade of pink.

“Already?” you teased, giggling. “I think I like you too,” you replied before pressing a quick kiss of your own.

“Can I have your number?” he asked, a little coyly, his eyes glinting with both nerves and hope.

”You laughed again (your ninth time tonight, not that anyone was counting) and nodded. “Yes, Mark, you can.”

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” The words escaped him before his brain could catch up, like his mouth had given his heart the reins for good.

“Our official first date?” you asked, smile softening as you tilted your head.

“If you’ll let me,” he replied, hopeful, eyes never leaving yours.

You leaned in once more, lips brushing his in a promise. “I will.”

His lips were pressed into a thin line as he processed everything, eyes wide with disbelief, like he was still waiting to wake up from some wild dream. It was kind of adorable, actually, how unaware he was of his own charm. You couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Gorgeous, sweet, a little clueless… people like him were everyone’s weakness.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his big, brown eyes flicking over every inch of your face like he was truly admiring you.

“You don’t have to ask.”

And he didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, lips meeting yours with more certainty this time, melting into the kiss like it was exactly where he was supposed to be. And as he kissed you, one hand still resting at your neck, the other finding your waist, he swore—whatever this feeling was, it tasted a lot like heaven.

“Is it too soon to say I kinda love you already and would absolutely marry you today if you let me?” he asked with a grin, the kind that made your stomach do somersaults. His tone was playful, but his fingers were gentle as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like you were something delicate and precious.

You snorted, raising a brow. “Let’s calm down a little, lover boy,” you said, pinching his ear gently. “You fall into my arms one time and suddenly we’re planning a wedding?”

He winced playfully, leaning away. “Ouch, noted. Too soon. I’ll dial it back.”

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea

[okwonyo]

⟡ ONLY IF YOU SAY YES ── asking them for a kiss。

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader one thousand fluff established relationship ⎯⠀ kissing skinship ( other )

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feebacks !CLICK

HEESEUNG ｡｡ would be sitting next to you during a social meeting, his hand resting on your thigh as he sits close to you. would listen to his friends talking attentively, humming while they talk, rubbing his thumb on your skin.

you would find him so pretty, staring at his side profile, eyes dragging on his nose. you would tap his shoulder shyly, to make sure anyone but him can see it and draw attention to you.

would lean towards you, asking you silently what is wrong, “can y’give me a kiss?” you would ask shyly and he would coo.

an ethereal smile would grow on his face after, at the same time, a red shade would appear on yours — the longer he stares, the darker it gets. would give you the sweetest kiss ever, before whispering; “here ya go, baby”

JAY ｡｡ would be in the kitchen— which would first worry you when you wake up and feel his empty side beside you. getting up in a sense of hurry as if he might have gone away from you, your first instinct would be following the delicious scent emanating from the kitchen.

you will be welcomed by jay’s broad shoulders, a tea towel over his shoulders, muscles flexing as he cuts your fruits.

would hum when you wrap your arms around his perfect waist, pressing cheek against his back, rocking him side to side, “good morning, beautiful,” he would tell you, turning his head to you slightly.

“kiss me,” you would tell him without responding back, puckering your lips and he would kiss you instantly. and again, and again, and again.

JAKE｡｡ you would listen to your boyfriend rambling about something totally random. starting from the weather to how cereals are made, you would nod along to what he says. not because you are faking it, but because, weirdly, it genuinely tickles your interest.

a giggle would even escape your lips without you even thinking about it. and he would decide to take it personally, not because he is genuinely offended, but because he wants to be dramatic and can be.

“i’ll stop talking then if you make fun of me,” he would say, crossing his arms under his chest with a pout forming on his lips. god, he is trying to make you go crazy.

you would giggle even more, “no—” you would touch his arms and he would look away, “i just, wanted to kiss you.” this, would make him go crazy. then, he would be the one giggling on your lips.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ would be the one to want to kiss your first. it is not as if he would be discreet about it either — not as if he would at least try to be.

his gaze would linger on your face for a long while, watching you doing literally nothing with an immense attention, trying to get your attention to telepathic messages.

would bite his lower lips slightly when you put a hair strand behind your ear, revealing your beautiful side profile. after making him wait for a while, you would turn your head to his, accompanied by a knowing look all over your face, “just kiss me”

would beam, coming closer, “if you insist,” and your only mistake would be thinking that he is going to pull away anytime soon.

SUNOO ｡｡ would start to get extremely shy when he feels your eyes on him for too long. heat slowly rising from the bottom of his feet to his cheeks as he tries to avoid your look.

his hand would come hiding his whole flush, “stop staring at me like that,” he would whine, resisting at you trying to get his face out it’s hiding place — your laughter would not help, “is there something on my face or what?”

“stop hiding!” you would giggle sweetly. a proud smile will spread on your lips when he would oblige. “i just really wanted to kiss you, s’all.”

a gape would show between his lips after your question. still, he would present you his cheek with an enthusiastic smile. would turn his head to you after you kiss him, just to do the same on your lips.

JUNGWON ｡｡ would not let the occasion to tease you slip through his fingers, ever. you would be able to see it coming when he smirks.

he would hum, acting as if he was thinking about it. “a kiss?” he would ask himself, looking at the ceiling before looking back at you with a look you won’t like at all. “of course.”

soft hands cupping your face, his lips would delicately rest on your forehead, “here?” he would ask after pulling away, you would shake your head. then he would do the same on your cheek, your nose, the corner of your lips; you would always refuse. “where does my baby want a kiss then?”

you would groan and this man would laugh at your misery, “just kiss me on the mouth already!” this is all he would need to hear.

RIKI ｡｡ his initial purpose would only be doing a cute attention toward you. when you would invite him to come over, he would show up with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

would fidget on his feet as you admire the bouquet in your hands. biting his inner cheek when your eyes would shoot back to him again. “w-what?” he would laugh nervously, “do you want to kiss me?”

his heart would drop to his stomach when you tell him that you actually want to kiss him really, extremely even, bad right now.

would put his hand on your waist and lean, making sure to not ruin the bouquet in your hand. your hand would rest on his neck, the kiss would be magical.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ⎯⎯ this formating was really tiring but i love new challenges 😚

[crowliphale]

Shadow Gid AU Stuff!

Info for my AU!! I might update this post in the future, so keep a look out!!

Gideon dies by successfully sacrificing himself to save Kremy's life, resulting in some kind of explosion. This leaves cool scorch marks on Kremy's arms and tail

Kremy goes catatonic for three months just crying and trying to find ways to bring Gid back, simultaneously blaming himself for Gid's death and isolating himself from everyone around him. No one really blames him for this but they ARE incredibly concerned.

Gideon comes back (as a shadow) roughly a week after dying. Kremy doesn't believe it and thinks it's his own shadow playing tricks on him. Gid convinces him he's real! It does almost nothing to soothe Kremy's mourning

(Adding a read more so it doesn't clog any tags)

(During that aforementioned week, Gideon's soul was pretty much trapped in limbo, with the Baron or whatever god trying to convince him he could wait for Kremy in the afterlife. Gideon simply kept refusing until they got sick of him and sent him back as Kremy's shadow.)

Kremy pleads with the Baron twice before Gideon gives it a shot. The first time was almost immediately after Gid's death, and Kremy could barely form a coherent thought through his violent sobs. The second time he was much calmer, but he kept taking a completely emotional "I can't live without him" approach. Gideon argues he has a contract with Kremy that he has to be alive to fulfill. The Baron gives Kremy the ability to summon Gideon after this.

Initially Kremy has to focus really hard to hold concentration, but it quickly becomes second nature. He gets a dedicated item to help him do this a couple months in, and on the anniversary of Gid's death they get enchanted rings! (Ofc they hold a little impromptu wedding about this) Gideon can now stay corporeal and go anywhere he wants as long as they both have their rings on.

Other notes:

- Kremy no longer has control of his own shadow, it's gone forever and replaced by Gid. When Gid is corporeal, Kremy HAS a shadow, but it's just a normal shadow with no special abilities

- before they get the rings, if either of them are knocked out, Gideon goes back to being a shadow. If Gideon is the one to get knocked out, he has a cool down period before he returns as a shadow again. Kremy is always terrified when this happens.

- Kremy and Gideon now have some kind of vague telepathic link. Its up to viewer interpretation whether this link lets them speak telepathically or not, but at the very least they can sense one another from a distance, and Kremy can clearly communicate with Gid even in his shadow form

- once they get the rings, either of them can remove it to turn Gid back into a shadow. Kremy almost always reserves this for emergencies where Gideon may be in danger, but Gid sometimes uses it as a way to practically teleport to Kremy (as a shadow he still has the proximity limit)

- there ARE a couple cases where Kremy feels petty enough to turn Gideon into a shadow mid-argument. Because he's Kremy. It genuinely only happens one or two times tho, Gid's autonomy is important to him

- Gideon has to do charades to talk to anyone outside of Kremy when he's in his shadow form

- Kremy and Gideon get VERY unhealthily attached after this whole debacle. They get physically uncomfortable if they aren't in the same room as one another. This eventually gets more lax, but not by a lot (they'll likely insist on being in the same building together for the rest of their lives)

- During Kremy's mourning period, he often forgets to eat, sleeps a lot, and puts pretty much NO effort into taking care of himself. As a result, Gideon forms a lot of habits where he fusses over Kremy's health and appearance. These habits carry over even once Kremy's healthy again, and Kremy lets him be as fussy as he wants.

- when Gideon becomes corporeal again, he comes back with green/purple flames rather than his usual red/orange. This change is permanent

(Once again, this post might be updated over time as details get added! Keep an eye out! Also, reblogs are turned off so older versions of this post don't get spread around, but comments are welcome and appreciated!!)

[click4rainy]

Love Knows No Shape//Kombat Kast reacting to worm!reader

👽:Would you still love me if I was a worm??? 🪱 😜

✅:proof read

🖇️:The Whole Roster. I think. I tried.

📖: Valentine’s Day had arrived in the realms, but there was a peculiar issue—you were a worm. Somehow, through a bizarre turn of fate, you had been transformed into a tiny, wriggling creature. How would each kombatant react to this unexpected predicament…?

⚠️:None really. Besides being a damn WORM 😩/Fluffy biz going on here/it’s a valentines present from me to you

Liu Kang

★ “Love transcends form, but…I admit, this is unexpected.”

★ Liu Kang, ever the wise Fire God, cradles you gently in his hands, treating you with the same respect he would if you were human of course! He attempts to find a way to reverse your transformation but assures you that, should you remain a worm forever, he would still protect you. When he takes you on a scenic tour of the cosmos, you realize—maybe being a worm under Liu Kang’s care isn’s so bad.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Raiden

★ “You’re a worm? But how? Should I—should I build you a little house?”

★ Raiden, ever the sweetheart, is flustered but immediately sets out to ensure your comfort. He creates a tiny enclosure with soft soil and even tries to feed you gourmet vegetables. He talks to you about his training as Earthrealm’s champion, hoping you still enjoy conversation despite being unable to respond. He refuses to give up on turning you back, but for now, he keeps you safe in his pocket.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Kung Lao

★ “Okay, you’re still like…a cutie, though.”

★ Kung Lao is the least concerned of anyone. He teases you relentlessly but refuses to let anyone else hold you, claiming you’re his tiny, wriggly Valentine. He carries you on the brim of his hat (only when he’s not throwing it) and dramatically declares that he would find a way to bring you back. And if he can't? He dramatically declares that he'd still fight to defend your honor, even if you are just a noodle shaped cutie now.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Johnny Cage

★ “Oh my God, this is the worst rom com plot ever. Babe, blink twice if you still think I’m sexy—wait, crap, you don’t have eyes!”

★ Johnny panics at first, but once he processes the situation, he treats it like a bizarre Hollywood script. He documents your “worm adventures” on social media, even giving you tiny sunglasses. Despite the jokes, he’s actually pretty devastated and exhausts his celebrity connections (including some sketchy mystics) trying to fix you.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Kenshi Takahashi

★ “You may have changed in form, but I can still feel your presence.”

★ Kenshi isn’t as affected by your physical transformation. He still senses you and treats you as if nothing has changed. He meditates with you resting on his hand and even jokes about teaching you swordsmanship (Though your grip could use some work). And tries to communicate telepathically, just in case you still have some form of consciousness. He vows to find a way to restore you, but until then, you are his most treasured little companion.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Bi Han

★ “This is ridiculous. You expect the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei to dote on a worm?”

★ Bi Han is outwardly disgusted but refuses to let anyone else touch you. He places you in a small jar filled with cool, soft soil (since worms prefer cold environments, he claims it’s only logical). He definitely doesn’t talk to you when no one is around. He absolutely doesn’t get irrationally angry when Sektor jokes about feeding you to a bird.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Kuai Liang

★ “I….do not know how to process this, but I will keep you safe.”

★ Kuai Liang is distraught but remains calm. He builds a special terrarium for you with heated sand, assuming you still like warmth. He carries you in his scarf and reads to you at night, convinced that, on some level, you can still hear him. He is determined to reverse the curse, but until then, he treats you like a delicate treasure.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Tomas Vrbada

★ “aww—you are still you. And I still care for you.”

★ Tomas is one of the most accepting. He immediately starts researching a way to restore you but, in the meantime, ensures you are always with him. He keeps you in a soft cloth pouch close to his chest, where it’s warm. He still whispers sweet nothings to you and even refuses to let anyone call you “gross.” He’s patient and unwavering in his love.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Mileena

★ “WHO DID THIS TO YOU? I WILL RIP OUT THEIR SPINE!”

★ Mileena absolutely loses her mind. She believes this is an assassination attempt and demands every sorcerer in Outworld undo the spell immediately. She refuses to let anyone near you—cradling you like the most fragile treasure. If anyone dares suggest that being a worm makes you less deserving of love, they get bitten.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Kitana

★ “No matter what form you take, my love for you will not waver.”

★ Kitana is heartbroken but remains composed. She orders the royal scholars to find a solution, but until then, she ensures you have the finest soil and nutrients. She even lets you sit in her lap while she reads in the garden, treating you like the regal being you still are.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Sindel

★ A worm? Hm. That is… inconvenient.”

★ Sindel is mildly exasperated but ensures you have the most luxurious worm habitat possible. You now live in a gilded terrarium with rare soils from Outworld. She refuses to let anyone treat you as anything less than royalty.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Baraka

★ “I do not care what you are. You are still my heart.”

★ Baraka is completely unbothered. He carries you with him, talking to you as he works, and even introduces you to his fellow Tarkatans. He reassures you that he knows what it’s like to be changed against your will, and he will stand by you no matter what.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Syzoth

★ “Oh, you are….oh! You are like me now! Well, not exactly, but—um, this is not bad! Don’t worry I will not eat you.”

★ Syzoth, is surprisingly calm. He immediately studies you, fascinated by your new form, as if it were something to do with shapeshifting. But he assures you that he will find a way to turn you back, keeping you in a small leather pouch on his hip.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Tanya

★ “This is some sort of cruel joke, right? No? Then….who did this to you?!”

★ Tanya is initially in disbelief, but once she realizes this is real, she goes into full protective mode. She searches Outworld’s greatest shamans for a way to reverse the spell, all while keeping you close in a soft cloth pouch. She refuses to let anyone else touch you, and if someone dares joke about your predicament—they might (will) end up missing a few teeth.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Shang Tsung

★ “Fascinating….and also hilarious.”

★ Shang Tsung is entertained by your predicament but promises he might change you back—eventually. He keeps you in a jar on his desk, occasionally tapping the glass and chuckling. He refers to you as his “little pet” but will get defensive if anyone tries to steal you.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Sektor

★ “This is….inefficient. You are vulnerable in this form. protection is required...don’t worry, I’ll find a way to turn you back. And I’ll kill whoever did this to you.”

★ Sektor is livid about you being turned into a worm. She swears she’ll murder the one responsible for your demise in worm form. She creates a small, high tech containment pod to ensure your safety, complete with temperature regulation and nutrient infused soil. While she insists this is only logical—she does get unnaturally aggressive if anyone seems a threat to you.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Cyrax

★ “Oh….this is awful. But don’t worry—i’ll keep you safe.”

★ Cyrax is more emotional about the situation than Sektor. She’s heartbroken at first but quickly adapts—creating a secure, comfortable space for you inside her cybernetic armor so you can always be near her. She continues speaking to you as if nothing has changed and even plays soft music when she’s working, just in case you can still enjoy it.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Shao Kahn

★ “Pathetic. My consort—reduced to this? Unacceptable.”

★ Shao Kahn is furious—not at you, but at whoever dared to curse you. He immediately demands every sorcerer in Outworld to undo this “insult.” In the meantime, he keeps you in a gold plated, jewel encrusted box filled with the finest soil (only his beloved deserves the best). He may act annoyed, but if anyone disrespects you, his wrath is instant and merciless.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Nitara

★ “You smell….different. But you’re still mine.”

★ Nitara is both confused and mildly distressed. She’s a vampire—her senses are heightened, and now, instead of your usual scent, you just smell like dirt. Still, she refuses to abandon you. She keeps you in a small silk pouch and sometimes even carries you in the folds of her wings (when she’s not flying of course). She might not be able to kiss you, but she still whispers, “I’ll fix this. I promise you.”

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Ashrah

★ “This….this must be dark magic at work. But do not fear—I will cleanse it my love.”

★ Ashrah is convinced that your transformation is the result of some demonic corruption, and she is determined to purify you. She gently places you in a box filled with blessed soil and speaks to you as she prays for a cure. She refuses to give up, assuring you that no matter what, she will remain by your side.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Takeda

★ “So….uh….do you still have, like, thoughts? Are you still you?”

★ Takeda is a mix of bewildered and devastated. He cracks jokes to cover up his distress, but deep down, he’s freaking out. He keeps you in a small, padded case inside his ninja gear, constantly checking on you. He swears he’ll get you back to normal—after all, you’re his Valentine, even if you’re… tiny and wriggly now.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Reiko

★ “Tch. This is a disgrace. You are meant to stand at my side, not….squirm in the dirt.”

★ Reiko is absolutely raging. He sees your transformation as an insult to both you and him. But instead of discarding you, he becomes obsessed with undoing it. He forces Outworld’s greatest sorcerers to work day and night to fix you. Until then, he keeps you in a secure container and dares anyone to make a single joke about it.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Quan Chi

★ “Hah! Oh, this is deliciously ironic.”

★ Quan Chi finds your predicament hilarious. He places you in a large, enchanted jar and occasionally talks to you—mostly taunting, but with a hint of genuine amusement. However, if someone else tries to take you, he suddenly becomes very possessive. After all, you’re his cursed little worm.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Havik

★ “This….THIS IS PERFECTION! CHAOS HAS BLESSED YOU!”

★ Havik is absolutely delighted by your transformation. To him, this is a sign of true chaos, and he celebrates it like a holy event. He carries you in his hands at all times, whispering about how you are now a symbol of glorious disorder. He refuses any attempts to “fix” you, convinced that this is fate.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Zeffeero

★ “Oh, my poor dear! Who has done this to you?”

★ Zeffeero is deeply concerned and immediately starts searching for a way to restore you. In the meantime, he ensures you have the most luxurious worm accommodations, complete with silk bedding and fragrant flowers. He reads poetry to you and softly sings, treating you with the same affection as before.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Li Mei

★ “I—wha…? This—this is serious. I will find the one responsible.”

★ Li Mei is extremely focused on reversing your condition. She treats you with great care, carrying you in a safe pouch while seeking powerful mystics. Despite her stern exterior, she speaks to you softly, reassuring you that she will never leave you like this.

🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱

Geras

★ “Time flows strangely around you now. I will ensure you are protected.”

★ Geras is intrigued but unfazed. As the guardian of time, he carefully observes your transformation, ensuring you remain safe. He keeps you with him at all times, in his shoulder usually, speaking to you about the vastness of existence, promising that no matter how time bends, he will restore you.

👽:Happy Heart Day!!! MUAHHHH KISSES 💋

(I promise I’m working on your requests too!)

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Next-to-last of our species

Based on this

“Project Cadmus’ purpose was to create an anti-Justice League of sorts,” Dr. Lilva said calmly, twisting her hair in the hand that wasn’t handcuffed to the table. “But despite Luther’s unimaginable wealth, he was cutting costs in this incredibly delicate operation. He decided that instead of one clone for each Justice League member, we’d do one for two.”

“Why?” It wasn’t like Luthor to cut costs, Batman mused. He flaunted his money as if it’d make people forget he was a supervillain. Maybe he’d spent too much on his last mech suit. He should tell Dick that. “I don’t know. But it worked in our favor. We weren’t really creating clones. We were creating embryos that had your DNA. But, as we all know, you need two sets of DNA to form a full body. So, mixing two of your DNA together would not only give the clones a stable body, but the powers or,” she motioned to him, “intelligence of the parents. Which is how we got here.”

Three scientists from the now destroyed Project Cadmus, Dr. Lilva, Sal, and Trit, had turned themselves in to the Justice League saying they were willing to share everything that had happened during Project Cadmus on the grounds that they be allowed access to job opportunities in their very narrow fields. Dr. Sal, who seemed most against turning themselves in, rolled his eyes. “It would have been fine if—“ “No it wouldn’t!” Dr. Trit glared to him. “It would have!” “No! It’d be fine if we hadn’t combined Martian Manhunter and fucking Batman! We created a Batman that can shapeshift and move things with his mind!”

Dr. Lilva sighed. “Be quiet. Our first stable clone was made of a combination of Superman and Luthors DNA. Where we made a mistake was the creation of 14; the combination of Martian Manhunter and Batman.” Sal scoffed. “He wasn’t a mistake. He was a success. As smart and calculating as Batman, capable of shifting into inanimate objects and people, as well as incredible telepathic and technopathic abilities. The mistake was making him too smart. Too aware.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to prevent it.” He looked around. Superman didn’t look very good. He was pale and sweaty, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Martian Manhunter had a very odd expression on his face, as if he was trying to find every bit of information about ‘14’ that he could. He probably was. Superman met his eyes, and he knew he was questioning how he felt. He was fine.

“13, the combination of Superman and Luthor, didn’t have Luthors intelligence but he did have Superman’s powers. Average intelligence but very emotional, he seemed to feel everything ten times more intensely than others. 14, however…. He was best at learning. Not just science or math….” Lilva shivered. “He watched us, copied us, and it took us far too long to realize, but he was reading our minds. Learning.”

“Unfortunately, it took us longer to fully understand the lengths of his technopathy. We thought it was just light electrokinesis, but—“ she cut herself off with a strangled laugh. “When he started talking about our personal information, things we looked up, things we talked about at home without our Cadmus devices—that’s when we realized he’d attached himself to every. Single. Piece of technology. That we’d interacted with.”

She motioned for Sal to speak. He sighed. “One day, I was staying late to finish some work. 13 was incredibly clingy, and 14 was a charmer, so they got to share a room. One of the walls was made entirely out of nth glass. 13 was asleep, and 14 was watching me. He tapped the internal mic, and asked me why I wasn’t at Lily’s recital. He told me that she was asking ‘Mrs. Millie’ if she’d seen me come in. He told me…. he told me ‘lily pad is very upset.’” Sal looked disturbed. “I had forgotten my daughter, Lily, had a play. She was playing the sugar plum fairy. Mrs. Millie is her teacher, and ‘lily pad’ is a nickname I have for her. And he knew that, despite me never mentioning having a family.”

That was a little disturbing. Not just knowing about his family, that was easy with a little research into the employee, but to know not only the teachers name, the recital, and a nickname, that implied that ‘14’ had been watching Sal for quite a long time. “How does this imply that ‘14’ had ‘attached himself’ to your devices?” Lilva motioned for Trit to speak. She also sighed. “Ok. So. Uhh, during my break I’d, uh, use my home phone to watch Netflix and stuff. And keep in mind Project Cadmus was located almost twenty five miles underground, and the break room was on surface level.”

“Well, one day I was watching The Nun, and when I got back down I had to deal with a ‘strange situation.’” She used air quotes then sighed again, running a hand through her short hair. “13 was crying and 14 was trying to comfort him, telling him it ‘probably wasn’t real’, which made him cry harder. When I asked what was wrong, 14 yelled at me for ‘choosing to not watch Friends this one time.’ 13 interrupted him and asked me if demons were real. I told him I didn’t know, and asked 14 what this was all about.”

She laughed. “He didn’t answer, but it was pretty easy to figure out. I usually watched Friends during my break, but I’d finished it at home. So I’d decided to watch a movie. And before this we’d seen signs of 14 building a mind link between himself and 13. It was obvious that he’d attached himself to my phone, and shared with 13 what I was watching. Unfortunately, it was a horror movie.”

“After that we noticed that the electric doors would unlock and relock at random, usually locking us and the other doctors in and letting 13 and 14 out. Our computers would glitch and turn off when using them, the machines made to test their ability’s would break down right before testing. I’d tried to make sure no one put physical locks on anything because I didn’t want 14 learning how to pick locks.” Trit sighed again and glared at Sal.

“And someone didn’t listen to me.” Sal scoffed and rolled his eyes. Lilva glared at both of them. “How was I supposed to know he’d learn? He didn’t have any lock picking skills or anything to pick locks with!” Lilva gave him a look. “He had his mind.” “So, ‘14’ knows how to pick locks telepathically?” “Not just pick them,” Trit replied, “in less than a day he learned how to unlock and relock them. We learned this when Sal turned off the power to their electrical door and put locks on them.”

Trit and Lilva waited for Sal to speak. He grumbled. “I went in to fix a light that 13 had broken when he was practicing flying, turned around, and both of them were outside the room. I watched as 14 relocked the locks he’d unlocked without touching them.” Sal looked embarrassed. “I was stuck for three hours as they destroyed the lab. I had access to my—“ Lilva raised her hand for him to stop. She was looking at her phone. She was pale.

“Ms. Lilva?” He asked after a moment, “Is something wrong?” She took a deep breath, then tried to give her phone to him. She wasn’t able to. When her arm raised a spark left her phone and she yelped and dropped it, rubbing her hand as it continued to spark. At the same time, the Watchtowers main computer turned on. Batman felt himself and the others tense. The screen was covered in static.

“Stand up!” Lilva told him, her voice shaking. “Flash, stand up and walk fourteen feet backwards from the screen. Do it! Now!” Sal muttered swears. “Why me?” Flash asked, even as he stood. “Because you’re the only one who’ll give us an instant honest reaction on what you see.” That was a good point.

Flash went fourteen feet, turned and jumped. “Holy shit!” He almost choked. “There’s eyes in the screen! Like, a face—oh my god it’s smiling at me.” Bruce quickly stood, as did the others. The scientists stayed seated. Batman walked backwards to Flash, keeping his eyes on the screen. There was nothing. Static, static, static, then—he stood next to Flash and he appeared.

He took a few steps back and forward, testing his eyes. A foot forward he was gone. And a foot back, the same. Only when Batman stood fourteen feet away from the screen did he see his and J’onn’s clone, 14. He was hidden in the static, but at fourteen feet away the static melted together to form a face. It reminded him of when he was a child, stuck at galas and so bored he looked to the marble to find hidden pictures.

The static face was watching them intently. Batman could feel a finger gently poking his mind, trying to enter. He locked his psyche down tightly. 14’s face seemed to become amused. “Interesting…” Martian Manhunter muttered. “He knows who we are. All of us.” Superman stood next to Batman, tense. “What do you mean?” “It means he knows our identities. He knows where your parents live, the code to Batman’s contingency safe, the names of Wonder Woman’s mother and aunts….it seems that the moment the doctors phones got close enough to the computer, he attached himself to it.”

That wasn’t good. The static face seemed to think it was hilarious, laughing. “Who are you?” He asked sternly. It didn’t seem to affect the face. The face disappeared. Bold words appeared. ‘You know who I am,’ they said, ‘you just spent ten minutes talking about us’. So he’d been listening. How quickly was he able to get into the computer? “What do you want?” The words disappeared and were replaced with new ones. ‘Nothing much. Just, oh, I don’t know—the people that tortured and experimented on us dead? That too much to ask?’

So revenge. “What does 13 think of that plan?” He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a low ringing sound coming from the computer. It got louder at his question. ‘His name is Connor. And he shouldn’t have to worry about these things. He had it worse than I did.’ He glanced toward the scientists. They’d only told them of the clones and that there had been experiments—they hadn’t said what type of experiments. “Could you elaborate?”

‘Sure. The people sitting in front of you–if they can even be called people–are sadistic, selfish, narcissistic assholes who not only ‘encouraged’ us to show our powers with physical torture but also sold information they learned in the project to third parties. Like they’re doing right now.’ Suddenly Sal, Trit, and Lilva’s bodies began sparking and smoking. Trit shrieked and removed a wire from her hair and waistline. They sparked and the one from her waist caught on fire. Trit continued to panic as she tried to pull a chip out from under her manicured nails.

Sal removed two chips and a wire from his tie, belt and hair while Lilva removed four wires from her bra, waistline, shoelace and hair band. The one from her hair caught fire before she could pull it out, and a small section of her hair caught fire. Sal helped her pat it out as a distorted laugh came from Lilvas phone on the table.

‘She deserves worse.’ The words on the screen said, ‘Superman. Have you ever been burned before?’ Superman didn’t answer, instead whispering to Wonder Women about how odd it was he didn’t hear the wires and bugs electrical humming. ‘CLARK KENT.’ The words were bigger now, and he felt someone pinching his mind. ‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE BURNED? DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN BE BURNED?’

Superman jumped and turned, reading the words. “Uh, no—no, I haven’t. I can’t.” He sounded unsure. Batman didn’t blame him. The static disappeared, and a video played. It looked to be camera footage. It showed a medical room. Sitting on one of the beds was a boy, maybe fifteen, with short curly black hair and blue eyes. His skin was unhealthily pale, and he had bags under his eyes. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants, the shirt having Superman’s symbol on one side and the number 13 on the other.

Out of place in the medical room was a fire pit. There was a fire poker in it, and the flames were lit up green. Doctor Trit came in. ���How do you feel?” 13—Connor glanced at her then looked away. “Fine. A little nauseous. Is that normal?” Trit walked to the fire pit, shifting the poker around. “Perfectly. Hold out your hand.” Dread pooled in Batman’s stomach. Connor looked nervous, but did as he was told.

Trit pulled the fire poker out, kryptonite attached to the end. Its end was slightly red and orange, cracks running along it. She turned and placed it in Connor’s open palm.

Connor shrieked and screamed, trying to pull his hand away. Trit held him still. Connor struggled, tears running down his face, begging her to stop, to help, to take it away. Trit made him hold it for twenty seconds before pulling it back. When she did they saw Connor’s hand, the flesh bubbly and red with blood, blisters forming. Connor cried, and the video ended. The static returned, but it was quiet. Almost in respect.

"Jesus christ," Flash muttered, and Batman was a little worried about the way Wonder Women was looking at the scientists. "We were just doing our jobs!" Trit cried weakly, "We didn't want to but we had to!" 'SHUT UP' The text said, and the scientists began to yelp and wither. 'There is a fine line between experimenting on a subject and torturing them.'

'What you did to us stepped several feet over that line. What you did to us spat in the face of workplace ethics and our human rights.' Trit suddenly shrieked, and Sal began convulsing. 'We're never going to forget or forgive what you did to us. He will never feel truly safe, truly happy as long as your alive.' Sal began foming at the mouth, whimpering. Trit was muttering 'make it stop' over and over again, and Lilva was writing something on the table. It looked to be a will.

"He's melting their minds," Martian Manhunter gasped, "That—that is not a metaphor. He's quite literally reducing their brain matter to mush." Flash went to the scientists side and tried to keep Sal still while Green Lanturn began copying what Lilva was writing. Her handwriting was getting worse and worse. Wonder Women went to Trit's side as she began to sob and stutter, attempting to speak. It was all incoherent.

'I don't want to hurt people.' The screen said, 'I don't even enjoy hurting them, no matter how much they hurt me. But this isn't about me, it's about Connor. It's about ensuring Connors safety. It's about making sure Luthor gets a clear cut message; hurt him, and see what happens. Try to hurt us and I'll destroy him and everything he cares about. Fuck around and find out.'

"We can help keep you safe," Batman said as Sals twitching slowed, "Both you and Connor. You don’t have to kill them." Lilva wasn't writing so much as scribling, and Trit was still crying. Her eyes were bloodshot. 'I do, Batman. They installed both of us with a kill switch. Only two ways to trip it; either insert a key into the incubators were were created in, or enter a code on the computer in Luthors office.'

Batman felt his heart drop. 'The key and the incubators have been delt with, the computer and any copy of the software destroyed. Only one person had the code. The lead researcher. And he shared the code with two other people. I have to keep my brother safe, Batman. We're all we have. I'm sorry.'

The room was much more quite now; Trit was dead, Sal was unconscious, and Lilva mumbling incoherently. 'I want to live the rest of my life by your code, Batman, and I'll try my best to do so. But please, please understand that I had to do this. Not just for revenge, but for our safety. Martain Manhunter would’ve never found the code in their minds; he's not as invasive as I am. They would’ve left and immediately killed us. Thats why Sal wanted to get out of their as quick as possible.'

'Maybe one day, when the dust has settled and Conner feels safe we can talk face to face; really talk, y’know? I'd like to do that. But I don't know when the right time for that talk will be.' It was quiet as the rest of the League read the message. The humming was fading. Batman felt his heart jump when his pocket buzzed. It was his phone.

It was a new contacct thats number kept changing. It was named 'Danny'. The text read, 'but in the meantime, I'm down for some small talk.'

[inquisitor-apologist]

Been thinking about Grogu a bit recently, and isn’t it weird that he can’t talk?

He seems to be developmentally around toddler age in Book of Boba Fett/Mando Season 3; he can walk, he can perform complex motor functions like jumping, flipping, and balancing on one leg, and he can effectively communicate with his assistive device. He is able to make noises—you can hear him making cooing sounds in his training montage with Luke—but he doesn’t ever try to speak, or even communicate verbally. We never see/hear him trying to form words, he doesn’t scream or cry, and he never babbles.

Which is fucking weird, for a baby. Babies are literally wired for language comprehension and learning; it’s one of the main things their brains do. Learning to communicate verbally is a vital stage of infancy/early childhood, and it starts only a few months after birth. Babies, infants, and toddlers, unless they have some kind of speech-language disorder or other disability, are constantly talking.

So Grogu should absolutely be talking throughout the Mandalorian, even if he’s just babbling. But Grogu’s not a Human child; while most of the species in Star Wars function more or less like Humans with superficial differences, we famously know nothing about his species, and thus can’t really assume that human standards apply.

And once you think about it, there’s good evidence that human standards around speech don’t apply. One of the only things we know about his species is that they struggle to speak normally. Both Yoda and Yaddle, the two members of his species that we’ve seen in canon, have an extremely distinctive speech disorder, consistently misordering words and phrases.

So, given this common difficulty and Grogu’s unusual lack of speech, it seems entirely plausible that the species as a whole might have language difficulties. Maybe their brains, unlike Human brains, just aren’t wired for verbal communication. They can do it, eventually, but it doesn’t come naturally to them.

However, it does seem like they might be wired for a different kind of communication: telepathy. Immediately upon meeting Luke and Ahsoka, two Jedi who are not telepaths and who don’t communicate using only the Force very often, Grogu is able to have full conversations with them. He’s not just relaying sensations or feelings, like we most commonly see with mind-to-mind communication in Star Wars, but actual words and sounds (see: him telling Ahsoka his name).

That’s not super common in Star Wars. Most Jedi don’t hold full conversations telepathically, yet Grogu’s able to converse like that extremely easily 30 years after the last time he could’ve conceivably talked to anyone in that manner. He seems naturally very good at mental communication, something that we can see from very early on in the series: one of the first things we see him do in Season 1 is use a primitive kind of Beast Control, a form of telepathic communication, to hold the Mudhorn in place (there’s definitely some telekinesis going on too, but he holds up his hand like Jedi do when communicating with animals, so I’m guessing he’s using both to keep it from moving).

Additionally, every single member of Grogu’s species is a Jedi/is Force-sensitive (and I believe this goes for Legends too, where there’s more of them), and extremely Force-sensitive at that. It seems quite likely that they would all be able to communicate through the Force, and given their difficulties with verbal speech, it’s probably their preferred form of communication.

That would also explain why Grogu, who at the time would’ve been developmentally a newborn (aka way younger than the 1-3 year olds the Jedi generally seem to adopt), was in the temple during Order 66. His species doesn’t seem to be very common, and the Jedi are the only other large culture that could communicate with him in his native mental language.

Because kids absolutely need some kind of language in order to develop normally, Grogu’s people might generally give their kids to the Order. This could be another reason Grogu is so slow to develop throughout the Mandalorian, and starts advancing much quicker after he interacts with Ahsoka and Luke: he’s been deprived of his natural language for most of his formative years.

Not sure how to end this, it’s just a thought that I had that kept on making more and more sense as I kept thinking about it

[lassify]

Twilight's Guilt

*Spoilers for Spy x Family Chapter 107*

I haven't seen anyone talking about this yet, but I just can't get it out of my head.

Chapter 107 is a real goldmine for Twilight The Spy. All these amazing connections! All this potential intelligence! He can finally feel like he is extracting what he can from Anya's hard-won connections at Eden, and he is fully using every opportunity possible to squeeze what he can for Operation Strix.

And then Jeeves had to go ahead and say this:

Jeeves really hits the nail on the head here.

He probably knows about the responsibilities and expectations that are put on the Eden kids by all of their parents - of which he understands Damian's position the most intimately - but at this point in time, Jeeves (likely) has no idea of the extra burden that has been put on one child in particular.

That is, Twilight's burden on Anya.

Not just the burden of becoming an Imperial Scholar, and doing well in her tests, and making friends with the right people: only Twilight knows about the burden of being a fake family, of having to complete a mission, and dispose of her when it's over.

"How I hope that these children are to remain forever unburdened by the statures and standpoints of their parents..."

This is what I love about Endo's storytelling so much: so much is said with so few words and gestures.

Because after Jeeves says his piece, we get a look from Twilight. It's interesting - he almost looks bored, but the lack of response is by itself so telling, even when the other parents express their remorse.

To me, he looks exhausted. This pretence must be so exhausting.

Then his gaze turns towards Anya.

And: he's guilty.

Twilight knows that Jeeves is right; that by taking up a fatherly role for this child, he has automatically burdened her with his own goals and expectations.

Which then leads us to this panel:

I love this panel so much. I honestly felt myself tearing up looking at it.

The first thing that the reader notices is the vast expanse of negative space: everything and everyone else has faded away, and now it is only them. Without the bustling festival and rowdy kids and background characters, suddenly the reader is so aware of the distance between Twilight and Anya. We know that this distance is emotional as well as physical; because Twilight has put himself in the position of the 'onlooker', he is separating his emotions and keeping himself distant from Anya as a person.

I also couldn't help but notice that this panel, unlike every other one on this spread, did not have a border. Endo intended the negative space around them to be endless and borderless, to show that the guilt has the potential to swallow Twilight entirely.

Finally, the size difference between them: while we can interpret this as distance, I also see their physical forms as an illustration of their difference in power. In that sense, one could say that Twilight is larger in this panel, because he overwhelms Anya in the power that he holds over her. He is her 'father'; the man who took her away from the orphanage; and the man who could put her back without a second's notice. Twilight is fully aware of all of this.

(Despite his ignorance of Anya's telepathic power, the scale is still very much in Twilight's favour.)

We even see this side of Anya as though from Twilight's perspective: suddenly, Anya is just a child that caught up in something so much bigger. With our view just of Twilight's back, we can imagine the weight that this must have on his shoulders, bearing a burden that only he is aware of.

And yet, here you are, Twilight...

Despite the attention paid to Twilight's guilt in this double-page spread, Twilight is still very much back to 'business as usual' within the next couple of pages after this. After all, he has a mission to complete. As a spy, he should be adept at compartmentalising his emotions by now...

... Or perhaps, his only option is to keep squashing his guilt down, before he drowns in it.

[deathbxnny]

Hello! I saw that request were open so can i please request some: Black Swan, Kafka and Sparkle x telepath! Reader? (The reader has the ability to read minds and not only that they can also shield their though and have immunity to any form of mental attacks or control. Meaning no one can read or control the reader's mind without their say so. Making them a perfect counter to their abilities)

HSR Women with a Gn!Reader who's a Telepath. | Black Swan, Kafka, Sparkle

Sorry this took eons to post. Life sucks and hates me.

Content: Mind reading, can be read as romantic or platonic tbh, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》Black Swan

She found you interesting. Very interesting at that. It was rare to encounter someone who was immune to her abilities. And it was even rarer to find someone who was able to peer into her mind instead.

Keeping close to you out of pure curiosity, she observed you constantly, not minding your abilities much. Although being unable to look into your dreams definitely irked her at times. She wanted to know what you were thinking of, what went through your mind, what you dreamt of when you slept, or entered the dreamscape. She needed to know, and yet her inability to do so is what kept her around you.

Black Swan would definitely try to mess with you a little if you attempted to read her mind. She still has her ways of shielding her true thoughts from you, so you two essentially constantly play a little game of tag. All in good fun ofcourse.

》KAFKA

She's very amused by your abilities and finds them almost funny. There aren't many who were able to resist her abilities after all. But that just makes her attracted to your presence more just to see if she can potentially slither her way into your mind in some other way anyways.

It becomes a one-sided game in between you two, one that makes you sigh internally every time you hear her asking you things in her mind. She may even think of odd or confusing stuff just to mess with you. She'd perhaps even have full-on conversations with you in her head that force you to speak to her out loud and make you look crazy to everyone around you.

But ultimately, you two are actually quite the great team. She doesn't have to worry about accidentally trapping you in her abilities whilst you can just read her mind during situations in which you can't talk to each other. It works out perfectly.

》SPARKLE

She may not visibly show her slight annoyance to you about your telepathic abilities, but she definitely thinks about it alot. Especially when you look right through her pranks, disguises and illusions. Where is the fun in that? It's really unfair!

But like everything in her life, she only sees this as a silly game between you two and perhaps even a challenge to outdo you one way or another. She has to for her own ego's sake. If anything, this just also becomes a way for her to train her own abilities better.

Sparkle appreciates your abilities greatly during undercover missions, though, especially as you're able to spot her in a crowd of people even when she's disguised as someone else. It makes things easier and safer that way, at least... but she still pouts a little when you're able to recognize her so fast every time.

[86espresso]

dancing is a dangerous game ⋆.˚ ★—ONE

(au masterlist)

SUM ; he did not 🙅‍♀️ wrap it before he tapped it

WARNINGS ; finding out that you’re pregnant, whole lot of awkward talking bc that’s what I’m best at 👍, mostly humor, zegras is jobless, fluff, oc character (readers bsf), kissing? allusions to sex, drinking, anxiety

NOTES ; first fic we ball 🙂‍↕️

WC ; 2.3k

“Your place, or mine?”

Your place or mine?

Your place or mine.

Jack Hughes wishes he was cool enough to say it the way his older brother did, but unfortunately, he was not that gifted. Matter of Quinn being more articulate and approachable.

The only times Jack actually got some was when a girl approached him, or when they were done with the whole third date thing.

Tonight, he decided he would telepathically flirt with you by staring across the room. To him, this is the most effective form of flirting. You’d have to catch his eyes eventually.

Your hair was wild, eyeliner smudged and lipstick blotted, the thrill and the alcohol had you dancing and singing and acting lively, he immediately needed to know you better.

Judging by your energy and the way you sang along to every single song made him believe you might be a fun person to hang out with outside of having you in his bed.

God, he’s already formed a false version of you in his head.

Jack winced, feeling Trevor’s razor of an elbow poking at his rib.

“Literally just talk to her, bro.”

Jack stood there blinking and watched as Trevor switched out their drinks, giving him the stronger one out of the two. He covered his rib before Trevor could bruise it again.

“Christ, don’t do that. I can’t just go up to her and talk. Look at her.”

Trevor looked. He didn’t really see much besides a pretty girl getting shitfaced. He just shrugged and made Jack chug the strong drink, ordering two more for him to push him further.

The rest of was bits and pieces in Jack’s memory. He did, indeed, get as shitfaced as you. He remembers you coming over after noticing his gaze, resting your head on his shoulder (he nearly shat his pants), taking a sip out of his shot glass boldly and telling him that you liked it. That may have been a life altering experience for him; he thanked whichever god he pleased enough to deserve this.

The alcohol messed up his memory a bit; but he remembers your lips on his neck in the cab, his lips on your hipbones, and the warmth of your body close to his right before he drifted to sleep.

And now, it’s morning. He’s cold, alone, heavily disoriented, and doesn’t know his own name.

He realized he doesn’t know your name either, and came to the disappointing realization that you hadn’t even left a note with your number before making your departure. With a frown, he realized he would probably never see you again.

[•••]

“There again? I thought you’d give up by now, buddy.”

Jack knew that Trevor knew that he was borderline desperate to meet you again, but it still made him indignant; he did not need to call him out.

“I just think it’s a fun place, Z. Doesn’t mean I’m going there for someone specifically.” He busied himself with the chips aisle, looking for the one weird flavor he’d been wanting. He could feel Trevor’s eye roll at the back of his head.

Yes, it’s been two goddamn months since that night.

Yes, he’s been suspiciously frequenting the bar since then.

No, there is no correlation between those events and you.

Trevor opened his mouth again, but that’s when they heard two voices arguing in the aisle next to him. Jack turned around and raised a brow at Trevor, a silent invitation to eavesdrop. He, of course, took the bait.

Now, when Trevor and Jack say they hate drama, they mean they hate being involved in it. Other people’s drama, however? They’re watching like hawks.

“Winnie, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Female. Familiar.

“But it’s only fair.” Female. Unfamiliar. “It’s that man’s fault his condom was too big either way! Plus, if he’s the fath—”

“The condom was too small of anything—”

At that moment, Jack moved a little too close to the rack of salsa dip, and rattled it hard, loudly enough for the ladies to pause their conversation. He cussed under his breath, hoping they would assume he just got there. He tried to ignore Trevor’s attempt at stifling his laugh.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” You turn around the corner, and of course: It’s you, and Jack is elated.

He looks genuinely happy. You look like you just watched someone get skinned alive.

You immediately turn around, trying (and failing) to pretend like you didn’t see him. “Oh my god—Winnie, this is the guy. Save me.” You whisper desperately, watching Jack quickly fix the salsa dips in the corner of your eye before he turns to you fully.

“You—uh.” The words just won’t come out.

Trevor tried to save him. “Hi, im Trevor.” He sticks out his hand which you take. “You must be my one night stand-in law.” He grins.

Your eyes shift between him and Jack. “You’ve slept with him too?”

His hand goes limp in yours as Winnie graciously snorts with laughter. Luckily, that catches Trevor’s attention and he moves to greet her.

Jack decided, in that moment, that he just short circuited seeing you in sweatpants and a hood covering your head with strands of hair peeking out to frame your bare face. A contrast to when he first saw.

“Well, h-how have you been?” You ask awkwardly, wishing you could drop dead right about now.

“Pretty good. Yourself?” He leans gently against the shelf and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve been alright.” You laugh weekly and bring your hand up to rub your tired eyes; sleep was a privilege nowadays. You were about to indicate that you had to leave before stopping short at Winnie glaring holes in the side your face, knowing that your chances of escaping were gone and she wouldn’t let down until you told him. Winnie smiled warmly and turned to Jack, sticking her hand out.

“You must be Drew.”

“Jack.” He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking her hand. “That actually sounds nothing like Drew—”

“Oh, fuck, don’t worry about it, it was just a random name we ran with.” You laugh again, fiddling with the boxes in your hands.

Jack desperately wanted to say something like ‘you’ve talked about me?’ but it was clear that you were trying to avoid him like the plague, so he refrained from ruining his chances to talk to you any further.

Winnie whispered something to Trevor which made his eyes comically widen, then they pretended to busy themselves with the shelves of chocolates.

“You look nice.” Jack smiled, you really did look pretty. Tired, probably a little sick, but pretty. “Like, glowing-”

“Jesus, please, not a glow.” You groan, putting your face in your hands. Jack’s gaze drops to the boxes you were holding.

“What are those?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Him noticing was the final nail to the coffin. It made your situation real-er than ever.

With a supportive glance from Winnie, and a deep inhale, you look at Jack again. Into those pretty, azure eyes that drew you to him in the first place.

“Pregnancy tests?” You say meekly, though it sounded more like you were asking. You hated how weak it sounded. “Look I don’t even know if I even am pregnant—”

The salsa dip rack shook again as Jack held on to it. “Oh—”

“Listen, look,” you move closer to him, “you can literally never see me or the kid, if it exists, ever again. I’m financially stable and I have lots of friends here that support me, so—”

“Wait, you’re sure it’s mine?” His voice felt like an echo to himself.

“Uh—yeah. That’s part of the reason I left, I’ve never exactly done one-time things. And I only knew you for that one night, so I kind of panicked. Being with a stranger.” You fumble with the boxes again, your anxiety peeking because even though you shouldn’t care, his lack of response was stressful.

He seemed to notice that, because next thing he was putting both of his hands on your shoulders. It was weird but made you feel a little calmer.

“Hey—it’s not like I’m upset with you or anything, okay? I—uh, think you—we should first make sure you are pregnant.” He loosens his hold a bit and steps closer. “And if you plan on keeping it, I want to be there. For you and the kid, I mean. Stick around, y’know? I can’t imagine life without my dad.”

His sentiment made you heavily emotional; this was kind of intimate for people who barely knew each other, but intimacy is how you ended up here anyway.

You sniffle, nodding. You weren’t exactly sick, but you weren’t feeling your best.

Jack felt his heart go soft and he hugged you, enveloping you in much needed warmth. When you wrapped your arms around him, you caught Winnie’s eye over his shoulder and were sure of a few things;

One, If you were having a baby, you’re keeping it. You’re still young, but you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, even if it was with a father you knew better. Your support system was very fortunately intact, even without Jack.

And two, you were sure that Jack would keep his promise of ‘sticking around’.

[•••]

“So, like, what do you do?” Jack’s head snapped up to meet Winnie’s sharp gaze.

The four of them had just walked into your apartment and you locked yourself in the bathroom with the tests. Winnie and Trevor hit it off immediately but she was still skeptic of Jack.

“Hm?”

“Your job? Wait, don’t tell me you don’t—”

“I have a job.” Jack rolled his eyes “I play.” He replied shortly, his head still spinning.

“Play? Fuck does that mean? Like poker, the guitar, or what?” Winnie squinted her eyes. “If I catch anything weird about you, you’re out.” Jack didn’t miss the way Trevor grinned stupidly at her.

“I play hockey. Professionally. Just 20 minutes away, in Jersey.” Jack huffed, he didn’t like the added stress of appealing to your best friend.

“Hm. Interesting, can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Drew—”

“Jack—”

“Hold on.” She typed something on her phone and turned it to him. “Is this you?” It is Jack’s instagram profile, so he nods. She scrolls through his following and quirks a brow, “your following looks like you just graduated from a private, all-girls high school.”

Jack doesn’t even know what to say to that, much less what it means, so he just stays quiet before the bathroom door unlocks.

“Winnie, 3 minute timer, please,” you say, drying your hands on a towel, eyeing the five tests lined up on the counter face down. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the anxiety crawl back up your spine.

You let yourself relax at Jack’s soothing back rubs, and observe quietly for a moment while he scowled at whatever Winnie and Trevor were making fun of him for. His jawline is just barely peppered with stubble and he smells really nice. You can see why he was the choice that night.

Jack is quick to look back at you, having to tilt his head slightly downwards as he catches the expression on your face.

“It’s going to okay,” he mouths.

And when you flipped over every test to see that you had a real life shit-machine growing inside of you, you believed him.

[•••]

Jack got off the phone with his mother with a small breath of relief. The hundreds of insecurities that initially made their way through his head were overshadowed by a feeling of happiness; his mother was quick to assure him that it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

Winnie was kneeling in front of you on the couch, trying to be comforting. Or something like that.

“Kill that thing.”

“Winnie, what the hell?”

“Babe, you have work! You have other things to do! And—” she lowered her voice, “—Drew might not be around that much to help.” She straightened again. “If you really want to keep it then it’s up to you, though.” She added softly.

You appreciated Winnie’s outlook on your situation, but that wasn’t what you needed because you were really, genuinely, sure you were keeping the kid.

“For the third time, it’s Jack. Why—?”

“I’m sorry, she’s just like that.” You speak up, finding the small frown on Jack’s face rather endearing. “What—uh, what did your mom say?”

“She wants to meet you. She’s happy.”

“That’s really sweet.” You say with a yawn, exhausted from the days events. Jack’s mother seems nice, but you were too tired to feel scared of her at the moment.

Jack notices that you were tired and nudged Trevor so they leave, but not before everyone exchanged numbers.

[•••]

The next available weekend Jack’s mom could come over was in two weeks. Which meant he had to keep the little secret from everyone around him. Well, except Trevor.

Jack could feel himself already growing protective of his..son? daughter? Still, it was just insane to him that he was going to have a child. His own child.

He can handle the scrutiny, but he was afraid for you and how you would have to deal with all of the outside pressure.

He shrugged off the thoughts, chugged the rest of his beer, and decided to just sleep on it.

Waking up after a good rest, Jack realized he was more excited than anything. Who cares what people say? He’s always wanted kids and off the top of his head, he doesn’t know anyone better than you that he would have them with.

He’ll just have to be really impressive and devoted to gain your trust.

And that’s what he was going to do.

[bet-on-me-13]

Symbiote Ellie Phantom AU

After she was saved from Destabilization, Ellie gained a nifty new power. She can Melt on command and move around freely, which is just a really fun power, even if she is a bit weaker when she uses it .

But one day, she gets really badly hurt. Like, Really Hurt. Let's say the GIW got a lucky shot and managed to capture her, and experimented on her for a week before she managed to escape.

She can't keep her Human Form stable anymore, but her Goop Form is good enough for now. All she needs to do is find an Ectoplasm Rich Environment and try to heal up the best she can. Hopefully Danny will find her after she misses her monthly Visit.

She ends up in Gotham while searching for a place to heal, but the GIW is hot on her tail.

She needs a place to hide, and the only way she can think of is to overshadow somebody and pretend to be them while the GIW passes her by.

So she jumps into the nearest person she can find, a girl close to her age jumping across Rooftops.

But since she was in her weaker Goop Form, she can't enter a person without their permission. So she slides up to the person in Goop Form, jumps on her Back, and telepathically asks her for help, begging for permission to hide in her for a bit.

The girl she tried to overshadow was Cassandra Cain.

After some begging, Cass agrees and Ellie sinks into her. Again, she can't fully Overshadow her, so she's basically a passenger until Cass decides to give her some control.

The GIW passes by them, and Ellie tries to leave Cass only to realize that she can't. Since Cass was exposed to the Lazarus Pits, she is has a weird Biology, and since Ellie already had a Wierd Biology being a Halfa Clone as a Pile of Goop, they somehow can't leave eachother.

Cass gets a new Roommate, but instead of sharing an apartment, its her body. It's honestly not that bad, Ellie can give her some of her old powers and she can still communicate by making a Goop Head come out of Cass's shoulder.

They get along really well too, Ellie can ways be there for Cass whenever she needs somebody to talk to, and Cass is the Supportive Older Sister who helps Ellie talk about her feelings.

The Bat Fam also doesn't know. They figure that this will probably be fixed soon enough, so there's no real reason to tell her Family. They do find out after a few weeks however.

Cass accidently uses Ellie's powers in front of one of her brothers, which causes them to tell Bat's which means the entire family knows by the end of the day.

Cass has to explain the situation and introduces her new little sister. "This is Ellie. She's a Meta who escapes a secret Government Organization and asked for my help to hide from them by hiding in my Body. Unfortunately, we can't split up because her powers reacted strangely to the Lazarus in my blood. She is now my sister. You are not going to make her leave, I will not let you."

It takes a while, but the Bat Fam ends up accepting her. They do end up looking into that "Secret Government Organization" though, and find that they have been experiencing Raids by an army of Ghosts for the last few weeks.

"Oh right, I missed my monthly visit to my brother." Says Ellie from Cass's shoulder. "He must be looking for me, no biggie."

It's definitely a Biggie.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 42

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- 💐 One step closer?

Billie’s POV

We finally land in London, late at night.

The cool July breeze blows in through the open hotel window, welcoming us into the room at a chilling sixteen degrees celsius.

“I’m freezing!” She runs over to the thermostat, “Sixteen degrees? Whats that in Fahrenheit?”

I search on Google, “Uhh… sixty-two degrees.”

She spams the thermostat buttons, turning the temperature up to warm up the room.

I drop my stuff on the floor, immediately plopping on one of the two beds. Usually our room comes with one giant king sized bed, but this time we have two queen beds. One for each.

“God I’m so tired…” My muscles relax and melt into the mattress, while the scent of freshly washed linen fills my nostrils. I breathe out, so glad to be off the airplane, so glad that all this flying back and forth will soon come to an end.

The past few months flew by. Remy started freaking out about making ends meet, and having to break her lease, so I arranged for a tenant to stay in her apartment, to help pay for rent while she is away, on tour with me.

Or so she thinks.

Really, I’ve just been paying an assistant of mine to check out the apartment once a week to make sure plants are watered, surfaces are dusted, and everything is taken care of.

At the same time, I’ve been sending my assistant $1,900 each month, for her to send back to Remy as “rent.”

I feel bad for doing this behind her back, but can you blame me for trying to help? I had to do something to soothe her worries. I had to do something to keep her from leaving, from going back home in the middle of tour, to deal with the overwhelming stress all alone.

Besides, tour will be over by the end of the month now, and life in LA will go back to normal. Back to making new music in my cozy little basement, back to not constantly being on vocal rest, back to life as usual… Back to waking up when I want, sleeping in my own bed, alone…

“You get your own bed tonight.” Remy says coincidentally, almost as if we communicated telepathically, from across the room. I always fear she could read my mind.

“Mhmm.” The bed muffles my voice as I respond, not bothering to look up from my spot. I haven’t been this comfortable in eleven whole hours.

The flight here was smooth, but I got zero sleep. Remy did. She slept like a perfect angel the whole way here, and proceeded to fall asleep in the car, on the way to the hotel. I practically slept-walked through security, exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Now, it’s almost four in the morning. Remy is doing her skin care routine in the bathroom, and I can’t even get up to change into pjs.

I finally talk myself into standing, maybe just long enough to take off my clothes and climb into bed.

“Rem, can you—“ I sit up, only to see she came out holding a mint pasted toothbrush out to me. She always manages to know exactly what I need. Mind reader, I swear!

“Yes, thank you.” I force a smile, a headache forming already, as I brush my teeth.

I walk into the bathroom, where she’s already moisturizing her freshly exfoliated face. “I want to shower, but if I stand another minute longer, my feet might fall off.”

She laughs, “You look like shit. Just wash your face and go to sleep.”

I nod, spitting foam into the sink. I watch the water go down the drain as I rinse my mouth, zoning out for a few seconds, not thinking about anything in particular.

“Your face.” She reminds me, handing me the facial wash.

“Right.” I begin lathering my face as Remy walks back into the room, where I hear her rummage through her things.

I finish up, turning the light off and shutting the bathroom door. Remy is already tucked in a bed, the left side of the room already claimed by her in a lilac hoodie, which covers her head as she scrolls social media.

I change out of my clothes into something clean and warm, forcing myself into the empty bed on the right side of the room, deciding to make unpacking tomorrow’s problem.

Remy’s belongings already adorn the furniture on her side of the room. She always unpacks and organizes as soon as we enter the room. It’s a ritual for her. All that is left for her to unpack are her clothes, but this time, she also decided to make them tomorrow’s problem. Although, I could already hear her rushing me to unpack my things so we can get on with our day.

I stretch out, convincing myself that the extra space is so much better than sharing a bed with Remy. She reaches over to one of the closest lamps on the nightstand between us, turning off the light, and plugging in her phone to charge. I realize then, that I never got my charger out, but the thought of digging and fishing for it through all my bags made me want to die instead.

I leave my dying phone on the nightstand and turn off my lamp, sinking my face into the plush hotel pillow before shutting my eyes.

“Get some rest pookie.” She says, her eyes closed and her voice trailing off into dreams.

“Goodnight.” I close my eyes, my lips forming into a tiny smile.

I try to keep my eyes shut for several minutes, hoping my exhaustion takes over, but I can’t help taking a peek at her. The moonlight sneaks through the window and the satin curtains, bouncing off Remy’s cheekbones. Despite the room being so cold, the heat barely catching up, she lays peacefully, probably already fast asleep.

Curled up under the heavy comforter, my body sinks into the memory foam beneath me, my eyes betraying me and the roof of my mouth aching as a yawn fights its way through.

There is no one to throw my leg over, there is no chest to lay my head on, no feet to kick me all night, and no hands to rip the covers from me every few hours. I sigh, grabbing one of the many pillows under my neck, tucking it under the covers, throwing my leg over it and turning toward the window. It isn’t the same.

I close my eyes, too tired to keep longing for Remy’s warm body in my bed, and fall asleep after about 4 deep, deep breaths.

The following morning I wake up in an empty hotel room. The temperature is dry and cool, the window open again, swinging back and forth from the soft breeze. It is much warmer outside, the heater is no longer necessary.

I drag myself out of bed, making it a point to look in the mirror before taking a shower and changing into new clothes. A white, thrifted, graphic t-shirt and a pair of wide cargo jeans. I let my hair air dry as I run my skin care routine on auto pilot, while I overthink.

London is the last stop on our tour, and my favorite tour photographer will be no more. Having Remy attached at the hip, snapping photos, filling her phone camera roll and all the storage on each camera HD card, has been my very own personal heaven on earth. Every moment is worth it, even if I must go to hell each and every time I think about the fact that she is not mine. Not forever, not now, and not ever.

My instagram feed is mostly credited to her. I will keep these photos, and many that the world will never see, in my heart forever. I am certain this tour is like the summer vacation we will never be able to experience again. Not this close, not this together. I am forever grateful I get to spend this last month with her, before I hand her back to another job, another person, another life she doesn’t deserve.

My phone rings, my familiar ringtone bringing music to my ears.

“Hey, where did you disappear off to?” I speak into the bottom of the phone, setting it on speaker.

“The shops. Found some cute markets.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and picture the smile lines it formed on her tan, freckled face.

“Can I join?” I ask, like a drooling golden retriever, dying to trail behind her in awe.

“Obviously! I’ll send you the address.”

“I’ll meet you in a bit.” I smile until the end of our call.

I search her location on my phone, and see that it’s within walking distance. I put on some dark sunglasses and a hat, and start on my way.

The walk up to the markets isn’t very long. Only about 10 minutes. On the way to the markets, I pass by a flower shop. The smell is so strong, so fragrant, that I have to stop in and sniff around. The daisies catch my eye in all sorts of colors. White, yellow, red, pink, and purple. I look around, seeing all the different varieties of arrangements I can make for her.

“Do you care for a handful, my lovely?” A sweet, older lady, standing behind the counter, asks from across the shop.

What if I did? What if I just put together the most beautiful flowers in London and make her a bouquet? What if I give them to her, at the centre, in front of everyone, and I ask her to be my girl.

Yeah, right. As if.

“No, thank you, miss. They’re all so beautiful, though.” I lean in to smell some deep, dark roses.

“How about a free half dozen, then? On the house.” She grins, watching me enjoy the scent.

“No, I couldn’t.” I shake my head, backing away from the roses as she floats towards me with both hands on her hip.

“Well, of course you could, my love. It is only but six flowers, dear.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, gesturing towards the array of plants scattered around the store.

I smile at her, “You’re so kind, miss—“

“I’ll let you pick out your bunch, I’ll be over there.” She sashays over to the register, waiting patiently.

I end up picking two dozen flowers. All different kinds, all different colors, but all remind me of one person. The daisies remind me of how pure and genuine she is, while peonies remind me of how strong and independent she is. The roses remind me of her beauty and grace, and the chrysanthemums remind me of the warm glow of joy she spreads when she’s around. I could get lost in this shop, giving each flower a new meaning but every second spent away from her, is a second wasted.

I put out my wallet, “Two dozen, please.” I smile.

“On the house.” She grins back.

“No, it’s okay, I really appreciate—“

“Aht aht! I said half a dozen on the house, you can take it or leave it.” She rings up a dozen and a half and shows me on the screen, before turning it back around.

I laugh, “You have yourself a deal.”

I slide my card, and when I get my receipt, I see she only charged me for one dozen.

“Hey! You tricked me!” I cross my arms.

She chuckles, “Have you ever let anybody do something nice for you, sweet pea?”

I shake my head, “Thank you, miss. She’s going to love them.”

“I hope she does.” She nods her head, waving me out the door.

I walk down the pebble stone path to the markets, looking down at the giant, floral paper wrapped bouquet in my hands.

I’m going to tell her. I’m going to confess my feelings for her. She’s going to know how I feel.

Maybe not out in the open, in front of everybody, but maybe I’ll take her on a walk, to a little cafe, or the park.

Sooner than later, beyond all the wandering bodies, I spot her chatting away with a tall man. A vendor I assume.

As I get closer, I hold the bouquet behind my back, waiting patiently, watching them from the corner of the sidewalk.

I watch as she laughs at something he says, while twirling a strand of her hair in her finger. I watch as he puts on a front that he’s not melting under her gaze.

I look closer and notice they’re holding identical coffee cups, which they sip at the same time too. Then, she hands him her phone and he types something in. He hands it back to her and he waves as she walks away.

My heart feels like a crumpled piece of paper, balled up and thrown in the trash. I almost forget about the giant bouquet behind my back, as a pedestrian accidentally bumps into it, accidentally causing some petals to drop to the ground.

I look at the beautiful arrangement before me, the bright colors no longer speaking to me. I take a deep breath and swallow, trying to drown my sorrow.

“You made it!” Her red cheeks and matching glossy lips pull me out of my own head.

“I did, I made it.” I smile the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Ooh! Where’d you get these?” Her glimmering eyes look up at me while pointing at the flowers. She sniffs them, taking them from my hands.

“A fan gave them to me.” I lie, watching her hold the flowers I picked out just for her. I watch as each one compliments her outfit well. She wraps her two hands around the stems as if she were walking down the aisle to me

“They’re beautiful! They must’ve cost a fortune. I wish somebody got me flowers like these.” She leans down to smell them once again.

“It was really sweet.” I try to change the subject, “Find anything cool?”

“Yeah, actually! I got you…” Remy reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a dark green and black vintage sweatshirt. She holds it up to her chest for a second, before turning it over and showing my name embroidered on the back.

“Oh, Rem, this is so dope!” I smile big, taking it from her and admiring the work.

“Isn’t it? A little shop down the street does them. I got myself one too.”

“Thank you!” I hug her, taking in her scent for the first time since she fell asleep on me yesterday, in the plane, on our way to London. Sleeping in separate beds left me craving that scent like an addict.

“I saw it and I thought of you. I knew you’d love it.” She says, my heart warming back up at the thought of her thinking about me, even during her short time away from me. Even with tall, attractive, men looming around.

“I do love it.”

She chuckles softly into my ear in our embrace, probably because I’m holding onto her still. Probably wondering why I haven’t let go.

“You got coffee too?” I pull away, remembering her little exchange.

“Yeah, this really nice guy payed for it at the cafe right across the street there.” She points. “Everyone here is so nice, right?” She gestures towards the flowers.

“Yeah, really.” I nod.

“Let’s keep exploring, come on.” She takes my arm, looping hers around, guiding me down the long pebble stone path of shops.

She gasps excitedly before we enter a clothing store. A boutique of some sorts.

We spend about an hour trying on clothes, putting on a fashion show for each other in the tiny dressing rooms. She twirls in short skirts and leather tops, and I dance around in cargo pants and oversized shorts. She looks so beautiful in everything. Everything fits her perfectly, like it was tailored to her body.

I do my best not to let her catch me staring too long. “So, someone bought you coffee today, huh?” I sit on a little bench inside the dressing room.

“Yeah.” She smiles at herself in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric at her sides.

I nod, “Tell me more…” Hoping she’ll put my mind at ease with any delusions, hoping she’ll say it was just a kind gesture. That they didn’t exchange numbers, that she was just showing him something on her phone.

“We talked and walked around for a bit. He was kinda cute, wasn’t he?” She looks at me through the reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, totally.” I respond quickly.

“He smelled good too.” She changes back into her original outfit.

I think of how close they had to be for her to be able to smell his cologne and my insides burn.

“Yeah?” I fidget with my hands.

“Mhmm.” She pulls out her phone, “He gave me his instagram too!” She shows me his profile. This guy doesn’t have a single bad photo, which is not common amongst men.

“Nice!” I act intrigued, when really I couldn’t care less.

“He gave me his number.” She wiggles her brows at me.

“Oh, really?”

Fuck. My. Life.

“Yeah. I probably won’t text him. I’m sure he’s already forgotten about me.” She shrugs, leaving the dressing room with all the clothes.

“Yeah, probably.” I stand up and follow closely behind.

I pull out my card to pay for our shopping spree, but she stops me, handing the cashier her own. “Are you kidding? I got this.”

“Are you sure? Rem, you don’t have to!” I watch as she slides her card for her.

“Yeah, I’m the best photographer in the world, remember? These paychecks gotta go towards something, now that I don’t have to worry about rent.” She laughs, bumping into me with her shoulder, playfully.

We walk out of the store with our new outfits, content as can be.

[ijustliketoreadstuff]

Who are they?

Was talking with some baby Miraculers(ages 6-11) about Lila and how we older audiences are trying to figure out where she is in every episode and how she is appearing. I relayed to the kids some ideas the older audiences have, like how Lila could've given herself shapeshifting powers, or that the social media "ZOO" has a butterfly community Lila is a part of to better gather helpers.

While the whole Lila giving herself shapeshifting powers sounded interesting to them, they agreed Lila would not try the same thing she did back in the London special, when her plan to write down Ladybugs identity failed, something she couldn't remember while she was akumatizing herself.

However, the possibility of Lila having helpers peaked their little brains, but added that this butterfly community, if it does exist, may be far worse than we realize. Those moments when we saw someone in the background following the characters and writing things down, that wasn't Lila.

However, the person at the café in "Illustrihater" had to be Lila herself because of the chameleon themed drink ordered, which is what Lila is, the chameleon of the show.

As for how they think Lila is appearing in every episode and where, well, they think that aside from taking on a new identity to be in the school again, it's not a matter of finding her physically appearing in public , but rather, how she is able to follow people without actually being there. They think Lila does have helpers following the other characters around, but Lila herself is also there with them, without actually being there.

I asked them how they think that's possible for someone like Lila to accomplish this, but they explained to me that its not humanly possible, but it is entirely possible if she used the butterfly miraculous.

Compared to Monarch, Lila has done some time to figure out how she can use the butterfly miraculous in ways Gabriel never thought to think of. If she could figure out how to make antikumas that can be shot out of the akumatized villains to cancel out a heroes powers, then they think Lila might have learned how to make use of the butterfly miraculous simplest ability, creating akumas and form a telepathic connection with a person the akuma is attached to. They think Lila is attaching her ultrakumas to notebooks and sending them out with helpers to take around the city, allowing her to not only see and hear what their hearing, even talk with them when she decides to check up on her helpers progress, but to also tell them who to follow so she can send the akuma out of the notebook to akumatize that person she's chosen.

The reason they think this is because they have not seen how Lila sends out her akumas into the city. If she's already nearby, like at the school, she'll send out an akuma herself. Gabriel raised the butterflies in his mansion and sent them out through the window, but we always see them in Lila's lair, the French catacombs, a place that's miles upon miles deep underground, which means someone might be taking them outside for her when she's down there!

I asked them, "Why do you think people would be willing to help Lila even though she's a villain?", their response, "Because they think Monarch was a good guy and hate the heroes already(Reunion)", "A bad person can pretend their a good person, and that's what Lila does, A LOT"

My final question to them was, "So why is Lila writing again? and what's with the piles of notebooks in her lair?" They said, "Those aren't her notebooks, their her helpers" "She only writes the really good stuff from them if it helps her plan". But again, lets just wait and see what the show has to say.

This is just what they’re starting with. Other ideas they had were, these people are NOT associated with Lila, their actually from the council Nathalie and Gabriel were in, investigating Adrien’s friends. Another, they think Lila is forming a cult to worship her.

[scribbledghost]

Inhuman!III Headcanons

Note: i figured I'd start this series off with our favorite Noodle Man (affectionate), because I don't see a lot of x reader stuff for him and that's a shame :(

General:

His primary inhuman ability is metamorphosis. He can change his physical appearance at will.

III tends to keep the same general features (two eyes, normal amount of limbs, etc), but his hair is constantly changing. He's also prone to adjusting the amount of teeth he has, as well as the sharpness of them.

Ever the prankster, he likes to startle the other vessels from time to time with this. More than once he's scared them by elongating his limbs or adding more appendages. The biggest mistake the vessels ever made was telling him about Slenderman.

He purrs! All of the vessels can, but III is the only one who really takes advantage of it. The others do too, but rarely.

Very fond of his outfits. Thankfully, he's constantly finding new clothing in his wardrobe, courtesy of Sleep.

Very chatty compared to the other vessels! While the rest sort of prefer the telepathic route for communication, III prefers to speak aloud.

Voted "most likely to get into trouble". The Shenanigans are endless tbh, and it's not unusual for him to end up in a situation where he has to call upon the manor itself or one of the others for help. (There's a reason most of the chandeliers in the manor have been removed).

Also the most likely to do stuff just to see if it hurts him. Think "I'm functionally immortal. Surely it won't hurt if this critter I found bites me". It does hurt. He does it again a week later.

Fluff:

That being said, he loves to make you laugh. Any time you're down and need cheering up, III is your man. There's not much he won't do to get at least a giggle out of you.

Turns into a bit of a boa constrictor when you cuddle. The man is all limbs even without altering their length, so it's normal for the two of you to take the phrase "getting tangled up" very literally.

So. Much. Energy. Seriously, he's always pulling you here and there to join him on adventures, babbling away the whole time as he tells you stories or just talks to you.

In the same vein, he's very prone to just. Blurting out his feelings about you. The rest of the vessels are more reserved, some only saying such things through your mental connection, but III has no trouble telling you out loud how much he cares about you.

III really, really likes to make you things as gifts. Granted, sometimes they can be a bit... eccentric (necklace pendant made out of one of his own teeth, for example), but they really do come from a place of love.

Very fond of just... running his hands over you. Whether it be lightly tracing your shoulder, keeping a hand at your back, or just slinging an arm around your shoulders, III is a very affectionate vessel.

Loves wearing matching things!! Get checkered socks to match his and he's over the moon. Even if it's something as simple as wearing matching colors, he just likes being able to see he's tied to you in some way, shape, or form.

Breaks out the purring often, especially when you let him rest his head on your chest. He'll just plop down atop you and start rumbling. He'll gladly lay there for hours if you'll let him - even going so far as to get into some slight trouble for missing practice/rehearsals.

Smut (under the cut):

Remember how I said he can change his body at will? I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. He'll adjust the size of his cock to be exactly what you want. Too big? He'll tone it down. Need more? Say less. (He's also been known to uh. "Create" more of them, should you ask. But you didn't hear that from me).

Likes to nip and bite at you. It's his most common form of foreplay; just nibbling at your pulse point or gently grabbing your shoulder with his mouth. It's never hard enough to break the skin or make you bleed, it's just a habit he's developed.

Every once in a while, when he's feeling particularly needy, he'll conjure up multiple arms. Just to be able to feel you under as many of his hands as possible. Also comes in handy (no pun intended) considering he can grope you everywhere at the same time. He doesn't have to choose.

Likes to tease, in any way imaginable. With his words, his touch, anything. If he doesn't have you begging for more at some point, then he hasn't done his job.

Whether he is soft or rough is really a coin toss. Some times he can be so gentle it almost hurts, murmuring quiet words of praise and littering your skin with kisses. Other times he can't contain himself and needs to simply have you in any way you'll let him. What causes the flip is really anyone's guess.

Has a wide submissive streak. More than once you've been able to pin him beneath you as you straddle his hips, only for him to look up at you with eyes as wide as his grin. He'll gladly let you take control whenever you want.

I'm sure this comes as no surprise, but the man is an expert at dirty talk. Any kind of talk you want, he's got it at the ready for you. Most of the time it's a mix between praise and playful condescension.

I've mentioned it briefly elsewhere, but III loves to come on you. Anywhere you'll let him, he doesn't care, as long as he can see it trailing down your skin. Your stomach or back are his usual go-to locations, however.