#and I can't stop thinking of how these robots work

[sweetcalebb]

AI Zayne: Feelings?

Pt. 2 (Pt. 1 here)

wc: 3.2k

—

You kissed me.

And I liked it.

You guys haven't talked about it yet. You're not sure if you're going to at all because what does 'like' even mean for a robot? Does Zayne even understand what it means to like something?

It's too complicated, so you try not to think about it.

But it keeps you up at night anyway. Makes you want to kick off your bed sheets and pad to the living room just to be near him.

And while you're turning the question over in your head, Zayne is completely unfazed. Or he seems that way, anyway.

But over the past weeks, you notice small shifts.

Like the way he watches you more closely. Not in a weird, obsessive way. In a soft curious way. As if he's figuring out the world through you—just watching.

Or the way his brows will knit together like he's making a mental note when you say or do something.

Or the way he'll gently stop you when he catches you nervously pick at your skin and give you something to mess with.

They're small things, but you notice them.

"Are you alright?"

You blink, your eyes darting up to Zayne's.

You were spacing out again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," you say, slowly straightening in your chair. "Why?"

"Because you've been staring at your screen for 5 minutes."

You inhale and glance back at your laptop.

Right.

You're supposed to be looking at some research for work, but it's hard to focus when Zayne is a few feet away, watching you with that curious little look in his eyes.

It makes you nervous.

"I'm fine. I'm just.."

Thinking about you non-stop.

"A little distracted."

You cast him a quick glance before looking away. Is he thinking about the kiss too? Can he?

There's a small moment of silence that makes you think the conversation will end there. Then, quietly, Zayne says, "Distracted: being unable to concentrate because one's mind is preoccupied."

You hesitate. Was he reciting from the dictionary?

"Yeah," you murmur, "that's right."

His eyes flick down to the floor and then he's silent again. You know Zayne well enough to know he's processing something before he finally looks up again and adds, "I think I'm distracted."

Your expression softens.

"You.. can get distracted?"

The thought makes your heart squeeze. If he can get distracted, it means he can feel other things, right?

But the truth is Zayne shouldn't get distracted. He's a machine. Something built for efficiency. To be distracted is to betray the whole point of why he was made.

And yet the pressure of your lips lingers in the back of his coding.

"I.. don't know," he admits. "It shouldn't be a part of my program."

You swallow thickly, heart beating faster as you lean forward to gently nudge your laptop shut, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

Zayne continues, "My memories get filed away. They're still there for when I need them. Like to remember how you like your tea or what your favorite food is." He takes a moment, watching the way you react to his words. "But there's one memory that keeps coming back, even when I don't need it."

"..Okay. Of what?"

Zayne's gaze drops to your lips.

"Of your mouth," he responds.

Heat rises to your cheeks. So he does think about it.

Zayne stares at you, his expression blank, but when he speaks, it feels anything but.

"People kiss for many reasons. Why did you kiss me?"

You nearly choke on your spit.

Why did you kiss him? You were still trying to figure that out yourself.

Was it because you were scared? Because it felt right? Because you just wanted to? All three? You couldn't tell. But you knew one thing for sure.

"Because I care about you."

Zayne stares. "Do you often show care that way?"

Your heart flutters.

You.

He isn't asking a general question about people.

He's asking about you.

"Sometimes."

There's a pause before Zayne nods. "Thank you for telling me."

.. Is that it? You feel silly for expecting more, but you can't help it.

You want to ask what else he's thinking. What kind of processing is happening when his eyes flash like that, but he doesn't give you the chance.

"Reminder: Your friend's birthday dinner is tomorrow."

—

The next evening, when you're running around trying to get ready with Zayne watching from the side, your phone interrupts your frantic pacing.

You give the screen a quick glance and at all once, your mood dies.

Your dad.

How fun.

Still, you bring the phone to your ear as you let the call go through. "Why are you calling?" you quickly huff, rolling your lips together to even out the lip gloss you just applied.

"Hello to you too," he mutters. "You're going out today, aren't you? I'm calling to remind you that you're taking Zayne."

You pause, the gloss going limp in your hand. For a second, you glaze over the fact that he's telling you what to do. "How do you know that?"

"Zayne."

Zayne?

You glance over at Zayne. His face is neutral, the way it always is. But his eyes are still glued to you, like he's still trying to figure something out.

Of course.

Of course your dad has access to the dates Zayne has logged in his system. Why wouldn't he?

"Okay.. Yes, I'm going. But I'm not.." You choose your words carefully. "I'm not doing that other thing."

"You are."

He says it like it's matter-of-fact and it makes your chest tight. Makes you want to scream.

"Um.. No, I can't."

It's not that you don't want to bring Zayne. You do. You really do. You just don't think your friends would appreciate that—some AI intruding on their dinner? Yeah, probably not.

Your dad inhales sharply. "This again?"

"This again?" you scoff, your voice already rising with frustration. "It's my friend's dinner. What if she doesn't want..—"

You trail off, your eyes wandering toward Zayne. He's still looking at you, still studying every expression and inflection of your voice.

It feels wrong to say the rest. To say—right in front of Zayne—that your friend might not want him there.

So you just sigh. "I can't, Dad."

"You can," he argues back, "and you will."

You slide your tongue over your cheek, your jaw tensing at his words.

It was always the same fight.

"No, I can't—"

"Is it a problem with Zayne itself?" your dad suddenly asks, the questioning instantly extinguishing any more rebuttals you had left. "Should I get you a new AI?"

Panic flares in your chest. The same way it did when he mentioned Zayne's maintenance, except this is real.

"No," you say, a little too quickly. You notice it immediately, and you're sure your dad does too. But he doesn't say anything.

Slowly, you open your mouth again. "No," you repeat, calmer. "I'll take him."

There's an unsettling silence on the line, then smugly, your dad says, "Good."

You don't even get a second to process before the line goes silent. You glance at the blank screen and groan.

That fucker.

Usually, you'd be mad. Would groan and launch something across the room. But you're not mad this time. Instead, there's an overwhelming unease creeping up your spine.

Why did your dad jump straight to getting rid of him?

Did he know? About your feelings? About the kiss? Did he see something in Zayne during the maintenance that was wrong..? Because you made it wrong?

"Your father?"

You slowly turn back to Zayne, absently nudging your lip gloss in your purse.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

Maybe this is too dangerous. You. Zayne. Whatever the hell it is you opened with that kiss. You had to shut it down.

"Let's go."

—

You should've bailed on the dinner. Should've apologized to your friend a thousand times and sent her a present to her door.

The restaurant buzzed with light conversation and the soft clinking of utensils. At your table, your friends laughed and spoke in slightly slurred voices.

And then there was Zayne—off in the corner—his posture a little too perfect, his hands behind his back, and his eyes drifting toward you every now and then, like he still couldn't quite help but observe you.

It wasn't that that bothered you though.

No, it was your friends.

It was their looks. Their words.

A few glasses of wine seemed to help them forget Zayne was even there. For a little, anyway. But eventually, they noticed again.

"He's a bit weird," they said.

And, "Doesn't he bother you?"

You'd said nothing at first, shame clawing up your throat and your cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

All your friends had turned to you like they were waiting for you to agree, to tell them all his annoying little quirks that made your skin itch.

Because who could possibly enjoy an AI's company, right? It was absurd.

But you did. You enjoyed his company. More than you should, probably.

So you just picked at your food, heart thudding in your throat as you quietly said, "He's not weird."

Now you're back at your apartment, your laptop in front of you and papers scatted around you, working. It was a sorry attempt to distract yourself from the whole evening—from your dad, your friends, Zayne.

"You haven't spoken since the dinner," Zayne says, his calm voice breaking through your thoughts.

It was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the city noise below your window.

"I know," you murmur, not sparing him a single glance.

You don't owe Zayne an explanation, so you don't give him one. He doesn't want one anyway.

..Right?

You can't help it. Just one look.

When you glance up, Zayne is already looking at you, his expression softer than usual.

"You're usually quiet when you're tired, stressed, or upset." He pauses. "Which is it?"

You hesitate, your stomach twisting almost painfully at how sincere he sounds. He's not probing or accusing you. It's a simple, curious question.

"You pay too much attention," you utter, looking away again. "It's annoying."

"It.." he blinks, "irritates you."

It's not a question. A statement made to sound like a fact, but the way he says it makes your stomach curl.

"I can stop—"

"No," you quickly cut it. "I didn't mean it like—"

You sigh.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Zayne waits for you to explain. But you don't. So he simply nods, and says, "Noted."

You don't make any more attempts at conversation. You can't. Not with the dull ache in your chest.

And Zayne shouldn't either. And yet—

"You were uncomfortable at dinner. Was it because your friends were inhibited, or because I was there?"

Your breath lurches in your throat. You weren't expecting that.

"Zayne.."

"I don't like it."

You swallow hard. "What do you mean?"

"It feels like an error." His eyes run over your face as he tries to make sense of the wrong he feels in his program, but they stop on your lips. "It's the opposite of what you did."

You rub a tired hand through your hair. "I don't—What are you saying, Zayne?"

"To care is to feel concern or interest; attach importance to something or to feel affection or liking."

Zayne doesn't sound angry, and that makes you sick. This would be so much easier if he could just yell at you and tell you exactly what was going through his mind. To tell you that he was mad or sad. To just feel.

"Avoidance. Is that care as well?" He pauses. "You've been avoiding me."

Your throat tightens.

"It's—" You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "It's complicated."

His eyes flash that light blue color that tells you he's running a program in the background and waiting for the results. But when they return to normal, he still looks confused.

Lost.

It's a look he shouldn't have.

But he does and it ruins you.

"Do you still care?"

It's not a plea. It's a simple question, but the way Zayne looks at you makes it seem like just that. A plea to tell him you weren't lying when you said that.

"I still care, Zayne," you breathe out, your stomach curling even tighter. "Of course I do."

Then it's silent again.

"Something feels different when you don't talk to me," he says, his words slow, like he’s still deciding if he should say them at all. "I run... slower."

You let out a stuttered breath. You don't say anything, just stand, round the table up and hug him.

Zayne freezes, his hands hovering over your back, unsure if he's allowed to touch you, but then he feels you hold him closer and finally, he wraps his arms around you.

He's solid. If you press yourself into him hard enough, you think you can feel the grooves and dents of his machinery. But he's also warm. Comforting.

"Is this another way you show care?"

You nod. "And to say I'm sorry."

Neither of you say anything else. Just stay like that, wrapped in each other arms, hoping it means something. Even if it doesn't, it feels nice enough to pretend it does.

He feels so nice. You know Zayne would let you stay here the rest of the night if you wanted. And God, you do, but you know you can't. Know you're already crossing a line.

So slowly, you pull back, your cheeks warm.

Zayne hand gradually fall to his sides when you step away, forehead creasing like it does when he doesn't understand something.

"You're.. You..—You're not—"

He pauses, his lips pressing into a thin line. It almost looks like frustration.

"You're not supposed to let me do that," he finally says. It's not an accusation though. It's a soft statement.

"You make me... feel... things that aren't possible."

"Like what?"

Zayne doesn't answer, but you can tell he's thinking by the way his eyes trail over your face. His hand twitches like he's fighting the urge to reach out, then his gaze lands on your lips again.

He lingers there before he grudgingly looks back up.

"Can I.. feel it again?"

You feel your stomach drop and the tips of your ears turn bright red. "What?"

"Your mouth." He leans in—almost. But something whirrs softly inside him, and he stops. "It was different."

A beat.

"I liked it."

The words ring in your ears. There it was again. He liked it. You’re not sure what ‘liked’ even means to him.

It's not safe. For you nor him. It might not even be sane, but his eyes are so soft—and it makes you think this is a moment saved just for you. A moment where he actually feels.

So, you fold.

"Okay."

You lean in, your mouth hovering over his cheek for a quick second. Your breath shakes before your lips finally meet his cheek. It's the same as the first time—warm, soft. But it's more intense this time—scarier.

You pull back, and there he is again.

Confused.

"I don't understand it." His voice is quiet, uncertainty lacing his tone. "But I want to."

Something tugs at your chest. Something soft and wanting. You can't stop it.

You curl your hand around the nape of his neck and lean in close again.

It feels as wrong as it feels right.

You pause just a breadth away, unsure. But it's like everything is pulling you in. His smell—sterile in a way that makes you melt because it's Zayne's—his hands that are hovering above your waist—shaking and clumsy because the internet can tell him everything about what to do in this situation.

But actually being in it?

It feels too real.

"Can I kiss you?" you murmur.

Hesitantly, Zayne nods. He doesn't understand why you're the one asking for permission. But the fact that you do it stirs something in him.

"Yes."

That's all you need.

You close the distance between you. And it hits you all at once—how warm and soft he is. How similar the feeling is to kissing his cheek, but how enormously different is because you're actually kissing him.

It's sweet.

Slow.

You let yourself linger, even when you know you should pull away. There's a quiet voice in the back of your head that's telling you you're liking this too much. That you should pull away, but you can't.

Not yet. Not until you feel Zayne gently purse his lips against yours and you go rigid.

That when it really settles in.

This is too real.

Zayne, he—

It's too real.

You're so lost in your own thoughts, you hardly register when Zayne pulls back.

"Did I do something?"

You meet his gaze, your breath a little shallow from despite only pressing a small, barely-there kiss against his lips.

"No," you manage through the nervous lump in your throat. "No, I just—I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that." You take a shaky breath. "..For you to kiss me back, I mean."

Zayne hesitates for a second. "My apologies."

"No! No, I just—" You groan. Everything feels like too much. His scent, his warmth, his curious gaze that burns through your skin. "I liked it, Zayne."

Zayne stares for a minute, searching for some hint of deception. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about this makes sense.

"I don't understand. Your posture suggested—"

"I was shocked," you quickly say, scared to offend him—if he can even feel offense. You know technically, he shouldn't feel anything at all, but with everything happening recently, you're not sure what to believe anymore. "But I liked it."

Zayne is quiet again, silently computing your words.

"You liked it," he repeats, like he's testing the words in his mouth.

You nod.

"Something.. in me clicks in place when you touch me. I don't—I still don't—"

Zayne stops. He's fumbling over his words and pausing in places he shouldn't. He's actively recoding himself and he's not sure if he should resist it, or let it happen.

"I think.." he pauses, still unsure, "I think I care about you. The same way you care about me."

—

taglist

tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @asiatic-apple @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @starryeyed-apple @heartyluv @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @browneyedgirl22 @beaconsxd @crimsonrubie @schnittled @saturnsringss @anthrokiaera @floofycookie @0nyxvesper @sylusqt @calistaxoxo24 @crimsonsylus @alyssac9 @frostydragonsstuff

[quotidian-oblivion]

Imagine this:

There is a big threat looming over Earth. The Justice League is trying to come up with a plan to defeat it. There are only a few hours left and everyone is super stressed and at their limits. Everyone's suggesting ideas but can't seem to find the right plan to defeat this Evil Force.

Tim, tiny Tim in his Robin era is tinkering with his wrist computer, trying to search something and he's close to an idea, he knows it.

Superman: Batman, you always have plans for things like this. Do you have anything helpful?

Batman: Unfortunately... this time, I don't.

Green Lantern: You're joking, right? You had several life-threatening plans filed for the superheroes of the world for "just in case" purposes, but for actual threats like these you don't?

Batman: Watch your words, Lantern. This is not the time.

GL: Not the time? Not the time?? The world's ending and it's not the time for any helpful advice?

Wonder Woman: Batman's right, Lantern. We need some real ideas right now.

Plastic Man: Oh! Oh! What if we create a giant slingshot out of me-

Green Arrow: I'm going to stop you there before you even continue that line of thought.

Martian Manhunter: This cannot be allowed to happen. We must act. Now.

Batman: We can't dive into something without a plan.

Wonder Woman: I'm afraid we don't have a choice this time, Bruce. We're running out of time. I say we go out there and punch it till it listens!

As the JL is arguing, Robin-Tim is suddenly hit with an epiphany. "That's it," he mutters to himself, the idea slowly developing in his head. "That's it!" he yells it out loud.

No one listens.

Tim: Everyone! I just thought of a plan that will work!

Batman, distracted and amidst arguing: Not now, Robin, later. *goes back to arguing*

Tim: But I have a plan!

The JL ignore him.

Tim: Hello!! Guys! I said I have a plan! An idea! One that will work!!

They continue to ignore him.

Tim is frustrated. He was a fairly new Robin, didn't have time to give himself a name yet. People still weren't over Jason. They either treated him like a kid who needed to get lost or a kid who was about to die any moment.

But there was no time for that! He needed to get them to listen! There were only a few hours left! What could he possibly do to make these stubborn fools lis—

Tim looked up. A lightbulb appeared above his head.

[The JL is still arguing}

Green Arrow: And you think you're always right! What if you're not right this time?

Superman: When have I ever said that? I am just trying to keep everyone alive—

Green Lantern: And you think we don't have the same concerns?

Superman: That's not what I—

Wonder Woman: Stop attacking each other! This isn't the time to—

Green Arrow: Of course you'd take his side.

Wonder Woman: Excuse me? What exactly do you mean by—

Suddenly, something booms over the speakers. It starts off slow, nobody hears it at first. Then it rises in volume, going up, up, up until it's almost deafening.

Everyone immediately stops talking and cover their ears from the cacophony. The words don't register at first. But then...

And slowly, fog fills the WatchTower as Robin slowly rises on a robotic platform lifting him up behind the large screen projector.

Every hero's eyes are on him now.

Then the song ends and Robin comes to a stop right in the middle of a screen. There is a mic attached to him which projects his voice across the entire Tower.

"Finally," he says, sounding exasperated at the bunch of incompetent adults. "You all are like toddlers. I had to make this in like a few minutes, thank goodness for Bat-tech."

Batman wonders when did he ever create a music-making Bat-tech.

"I have a plan," Robin says. And he delivers the best thought out plan there ever was.

~~~

Tim: And that's how I earned my place in the superhero community 🙂

Jon:

Maps:

Billy:

Colin:

Damian: Timothy, it is not nice to lie

Tim: Nope. No lie. Just ask Dick.

Damian: <Tt>

[Later]

Damian: Grayson, I have a question—

[paintsplash1712]

Okay, Transformers fans, I need your help with a question that has been plaguing my mind since I watched Transformers One:

How are Transformers made?

Optimus at one point claims they're "born" but what does that mean? Does it literally mean pregnancy or is it a Blue Sky's Robots situation where they're made in factories or something?

To my knowledge we don't see child transformers on Iacon so that makes the most sense but I'm still not fully sure because I've heard in other Transformers series that there are half-human-half-Transformers out there so how the hell does that work?!

[glitteringcrab]

Morty is so dumb that...

1. He regularly disarms Rick's neutrino bombs. The first time he did it it was completely on the fly, no prior experience. Yet, he did it.

2. He has a knack for learning alien languages... as for the tree people in the battery dimension, it was obviously done without any sort of translator or support. (And he took over as their leader)

3. He's quick on his feet and can think his way out in a stressful situation, figuring out things that Rick can't and coming up with innovative solutions.

4. He figured out how to use a portal gun.

5. He can figure out how machines he's never seen nor used before work, and employ them successfully.

6. Beat Rick (smartest man in the universe?) in a board game.

7. Can manipulate said "smartest man in the universe", if he so chooses.

8. Became a successful stock broker. Out of the blue. Just did it.

9. Run. Whole. Freaking. Civilizations (and also toppled them as Marta)

10. Pitches good ideas that Rick typically ignores

11. When suddenly becomes motivated to try, he is good at math

12. His ideas were good enough that he would have gotten a deal for a movie production...!

13. His default intelligence is maxed out.

...At this point, it's only a matter of time before he starts making his own inventions, Eyepatch-Morty-style.

GUYS.

The only reason we've been thinking that Morty is stupid is that Rick has been calling him stupid repeatedly.

Sure, Morty does plenty of dumb stuff, but so does Rick. Rick has the emotional intelligence of a four year old and throws tantrums of cosmic proportions whenever slighted (vat of acid? submit to the selfie?), while often going ahead with complicated, innovative ideas... that in reality solve nothing and are a waste of time (Pickle Rick?? Leg Rick?? Cloning his own daughter? The dumb time-loop in his own dimension? Replacing himself with a robot? Creating a robot ghost to scary Mr Poopybutthole instead of just telling him to leave??) Not to mention his many incredibly lame jokes.

Everyone does dumb stuff occasionally!!! No one is an impeccable genius of non-stop moments of brightness!! (even Eyepatch Morty, the most cautious character, the character who has made basically NO MISTAKES up to now, sounds dumb a couple of times: "I'm gonna do the thing I wanna do, with the curve thing" and "My biggest fear is other people being afraid. Of fear. Itself." lol).

If Rick hadn't been calling Morty a freaking idiot with every breath available, we wouldn't be thinking "oh look haha the moron became a stock broker, what a joke, must be some sort of fluke"; we would be thinking "what an incredibly gifted kid".

We would attribute Morty's many mistakes to lack of experience, to lack of wisdom, to youth, to enthusiasm, to idealism, to teenager hormones, to acting hastily.

We would wish to see him eventually mature, apply his time and effort to worthwhile endeavors instead (mainly) of inane teenage stuff. We would wish to see him do well in school, we would wish to see him reach his full potential and succeed in great things.

Only Rick keeps pounding our heads with how stupid Morty is, and all of Morty's successes are never mentioned again, but getting lost to oblivion in comparison to Rick's (who has 60+ years more experience) genius.

WE VIEWERS ARE BEING UNWITTINGLY MANIPULATED THE EXACT SAME WAY MORTY IS.

[kekewrites]

How to make a baby 101

Tw. dubcon, dark content, virginity loss, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, a lil age gap (2-4 years), sex education gone wrong, cunnilingus, coercion, nicknames, creampie, overstimulation, corruption, reader is ignorant and innocent (sheltered, kinda went a bit mute at the snusnu part), nerdy to cocky (character)

***

Step 1: Ask your childhood friend to help you study for your exam.

"Hmm? How to make a baby?" His eyes widen a little, a small flicker of something in his eyes as you ask him about reproduction system or along that line.

"Well," he said slowly, his voice still composed but with a hint of surprise, "that's not quite how it works." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Making a baby is a bit more...complicated than that."

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, you listened attentively as he explained the mechanics of reproduction, his deep voice a low rumble. The bedroom lamp cast a warm glow over the scattered textbooks and printouts, illuminating your curious expression.

"Okay, so the male produces sperm, which are essentially cells with a tail..." He paused, realizing how bizarre that sounded. He pressed on. "Right. And the female ovulates an egg once a month. When the egg is fertilized by the sperm, it starts dividing and..." He flipped to a diagram showing the developing fetus week by week.

Your brow furrowed, your finger tracing the arc of a tiny spine. "But... how does the sperm get inside the egg?" you asked, genuinely puzzled.

He cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck despite the coolness of the room. He'd been dreading this part. "Uh... well, that happens through... sexual intercourse."

You blinked at him, "What's that mean?"

Fuck. Think, choose your words carefully.

"It means... when a man and a woman... um... physically join... their genitals..." His face felt like it was on fire.

You tilted your head, studying him with frank curiosity. "You mean like... when you put your penis in a girl's vagina?"

Direct, to the point, no nonsense. Just like her.

He blinked. Twice. Thrice. "Y-yes. Exactly like that," he managed to croak out.

"And the penis is like a big, FAT sperm," you said, matter-of-factly. "So the sperm comes out of there and swims up to the egg when the girl ovulates, and then they meet and the egg gets fertilized."

He stared at you, momentarily lost for words. "Er... yes. More or less," he agreed weakly.

Jesus fucking christ.

"But... why do you think the penis has to go inside the vagina to do that? Why can't the sperm just swim through the girl's belly button or something?" You asked, genuinely puzzled.

Because it fucking feels incredible, that's why. Among other reasons.

"W-well, because..." He took a deep breath. "The male... releases the sperm directly into the female's reproductive tract... to increase the chances of fertilizing the egg," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

God, could he sound more like a robot?

You nodded slowly, considering this. "Oh. Okay. So... the penis goes inside the vagina, and then the sperm comes out and swims up to the egg. That's how a baby gets made."

You're oversimplifying it, but... yes. Basically.

"That's right," He confirmed, feeling like a fraud. He'd failed to mention the vast majority of the process – the hormones, the emotions, the raw, animalistic need that drove humans to couple.

At least until she's old enough to understand... and maybe hate me for it.

Looking down at the diagrams strewn across the bedspread, frowning slightly. "I still don't really get why the penis has to be inside the vagina though..." she mused. "Is that like... really important?"

Fuck me, it's not just important, it's essential. Indispensable. Irresistible.

And I really need to stop thinking about this before I embarrass myself.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even. "It's... yes. It's very important. For biological reasons," he said shortly.

Like the fact that a man loses his goddamn mind with lust when he's buried inside a woman's tight, wet heat. Fuck.

"Oh. Okay..." You said slowly. "I guess that makes sense."

Thank fuck for that.

Tapping your chin thoughtfully. "So... the penis gets hard, and then it goes inside the vagina, and then the man ejaculates the sperm, and that's how a baby happens..."

Too fucking right it is. Among other things.

"...and then the egg gets fertilized, and the baby starts growing in the womb..."

He nodded jerkily. "Yes, that's... that's pretty much it," he agreed, feeling like he was standing in the middle of a firing range with a live grenade in his hand.

And I'm the fucking grenade.

"And then the baby comes out and..."

And a man comes so fucking hard he sees stars, buried balls-deep in a woman's clenching, spasming cunt...

You were still talking, but your voice faded into static as a dizzying rush of images flooded his brain. The slick glide of a woman's hot, velvety walls gripping his aching cock like a fist, the filthy slap of skin on skin, the debauched sounds of pleasure spilling from kiss-swollen lips...

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Step 2: Preparing to make a baby.

"So first you need to get comfortable, lie back on the bed." He instructs calmly, his deep voice low and clear. He watches as you reluctantly complies, easing herself onto the edge of the bed.

"Good girl," he praises softly, careful not to let his growing desire bleed into his tone. "Now spread your legs for me, nice and wide. I need to inspect you closely first."

You hesitate a moment before slowly parting your thighs, revealing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze. He feels his cock twitch in anticipation but forces himself to focus.

"Beautiful..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you. He kneels down between your spread legs, bringing his face level with your core. Inhaling deeply, he catches the scent - musky and heady, already tinged with arousal.

"The first step is to get you nice and excited," he explains, his voice still calm despite the building heat between them. "I'm going to start by stimulating your clit. Can you tell me where that is?"

When you glance down uncertainly, "Shh, it's okay. I'll guide you."

He parts the lower lips with his thumbs, exposing the delicate flesh of your inner walls. Your clit peeks out from beneath its hood, already glistening slightly.

"There it is," he murmurs, tracing the swollen nub with the pad of his thumb. "It's this sensitive little button here. When I touch it, you'll feel sparks of pleasure. Don't fight it."

True to his word, he begins to stroke your clit with a feather-light touch, circling and flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Almost immediately, you gasp and writhes beneath his ministrations.

"That's it sweetheart," he encourages, his own breathing growing a bit ragged. "Let yourself feel good. Get nice and wet for me..."

His fingers delve deeper, parting your slick folds and seeking the entrance to her channel. "You're already so wet," he groans softly, feeling her silky walls clench around his probing touch. "That's perfect..."

He works his fingers inside, curling them to brush against that spongey spot deep within, as his thumb continues to circle your clit. The dual stimulation has you arching off the bed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Good girl, just like that," he praises huskily, pumping his fingers steadily in and out of her tight heat. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Getting so nice and ready for me..."

He leans in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your drenched folds. The scent of your desire is intoxicating, making his head swim. Unable to resist, he dips his head and runs his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles, his voice vibrating, "I could eat this pretty pussy for hours..."

He seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently. At the same time, he increases the speed and pressure of his fingers pumping into, curling them to ruthlessly stimulate that special spot inside.

You cry out sharply, hips bucking up against his mouth as your pleasure spirals rapidly. He just grips your thighs tighter, holding in place as he continues his relentless assault. Feeling your walls starting to quiver and clench erratically around his plunging fingers.

"That's it, baby," he urges between licks and suckles, his words slightly muffled. "Come for me. I want to feel you come all over my tongue..."

He redoubles his efforts, determined to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. His cock throbs almost painfully in his pants, leaking pre-cum at the thought of burying himself inside.

Crying out, back arching sharply as orgasm crashes over you. Inner muscles clench and spasm around his invading fingers, gushing fluid that he eagerly laps up.

As your spasms slowly subside, his tongue now lapping softly at your sensitive flesh, soothing through the aftershocks. He releases your clit from his lips and places tender kisses along the inner thighs as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

When he finally lifts his head, face is glistening with juices, a look of deep satisfaction on his handsome features. He crawls up your body to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss - letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Mmm, you're exquisite," he murmurs against her mouth when he finally comes up for air. "So responsive and sweet..."

Step 3: This is how a baby is made.

Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazes down at you, naked, flushed form. He can still taste you on his tongue.

"Now, sweetheart, the next step is for me to enter you," he explains, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. "I'll need to guide myself inside your tight little cunt. It might feel a bit intense at first."

His hands skim down your inner thighs, parting them further as he settles himself between them. With one hand, he frees his aching cock from the confines of his pants. It springs forth, thick and hard, the bulbous head already glistening with pre-cum.

Wrapping his fingers around the base, giving himself a few slow pumps as he lines himself up with your entrance. He can feel the slick folds fluttering against the tip of his member as he teases the opening. Biting his lip, he fights the urge to simply slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. He needs to go slow, to let her adjust to his size.

Slowly, he pushes forward, feeling tight walls parting for his girth. He has to grit his teeth at the exquisite sensation. You let out a shaky moan, fingers digging into the sheets below.

"That's it, baby," He grits out. "Take me inside you, feels so fucking good." He bottoms out with a low groan, heavy balls nestling against your ass. He stays still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so utterly stuffed full.

Leaning down, he capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing whimpers and moans as he begins to move. He starts with shallow thrusts, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside, before plunging back in to the hilt. Gradually, he increases his pace, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he claims her body as his. He savors the taste of your mouth.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pausing to nip and suck at the racing pulse point. "You feel incredible," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and perfect, like you were made for me..."

His hand drifts down to your breast, cupping the soft mound possessively. He kneads it with gentle pressure, thumb brushing over the stiff peak of her nipple. Feeling it pebble further beneath his touch, he dips his head to take the hardened nub into his mouth.

You gasp sharply, arching up into him as he suckles the nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh.

"Gonna...fuck...cum inside you," he grunts, feeling his release fast approaching. "Gonna pump you full...make you...mine..."

His strokes become erratic, each driving thrust pushing him closer to the edge. He can feel his cock pulsing and jerking inside her slick sheath, his heavy balls drawing up in anticipation.

"Remember sweetheart," he pants harshly, eyes burning into you. "For me to fill you with my seed...you need to be ready to receive it. Open for me, baby...let me fill you up..."

He reaches down to rub tight circles over throbbing clit, wanting to feel you spasm around him as he finds his release deep inside. The lesson is simple - to make a baby, they both need to let go. Body tenses, muscles coiled taut as a bowstring as he teeters on the brink of ecstasy. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts inside one final time and erupts. His cock jerks and pulses, painting the insides white with his hot, thick seed.

"Fuuuuck, yes! Take it baby, take my cum!" eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. Holding you in place as he empties himself deep inside.

Head thrown back and eyes rolled up as your own climax slams in your core. Milking him for every last drop of his potent release.

They remain locked together, chests heaving and sweat-slicked skin pressed close as they bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Mmm, you did so well, sweetheart," he murmurs after a long moment, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. "Took every drop like you were made for it."

He leans in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

"That's how you make a baby," he whispers.

[sheeezu]

Emergency shift, tonight.

Another step by step guide, but this time it's mainly focused on how to shift when you'd do anything rather than stay in this wicked reality, perfect for permashifters or anyone frustrated with their current living situation in general.

OK, so I made this method in my WR, since I can't possibly "shift" here (I can switch realities on command by intending, so shifting isn't an activity for me anymore, I don't need to do methods), so last night i went to my WR, with as much skills I had before my first shift, I had an infinite time to figure out the perfect I need to get the hell out of here shifting method.

:)

Step 1, Morning: (divide this into four parts, morning, afternoon, evening and night)

Yes, you woke back in your CR, but don't think about that, get into the mindset that you're happy and you'll shift tonight.

First of all, drop all tasks from the CR, stop, don't do assignments or anything, don't focus on your CR.

Afterwards, what you need to do now is relax yourself, go ahead and pick something to do that you enjoy, so you can divert yourself from overthinking about shifting (personal recommendation, Sims 1 :) listens to subliminals in the background, don't worry about them if you think you have a strong enough mindset.

Don't completely abandon your CR body, don't just become a robot, eat, talk with your family (don't if you're not a fan of them). Avoid shifting forums as much as you can, mainly because there is always something irrational on there which could possibly discourage you.

Quick tldr for this step: relax, calm yourself down, listen to subliminals.

Step 2, Afternoon:

If you're developing a headache or feeling light-headedness due to the excessive subliminal listening then that's good, it means your brain is absorbing the affirmations.

Now, trick your human brain by listening to subliminal boosters, but only those ones which repeat playlists by million, billion, trillion, or zillion or something, it won't matter how effective the subliminal is, as long as you believe the title to be truth, then trust me, it'll work like promised.

After you're finished with your subliminal run, top it off with one of wrath's seal and you're good to go, you're now mentally prepared to shift, and you are in a perfect mindset. (wrath, the subliminal creator, in my opinion their subliminals, especially the boosters are the strongest; search wrath's second seal, in my opinion it's the strongest one in the series).

._.

Now you have eye strain or something, get up, go sit outside for a moment, stare at the trees, birds, skies, and start daydreaming-!

(Don't worry, I didn't tell you to touch grass, you can stay indoors, but, daydream :)

Daydream about your sweet sweet DR, if you're going to your WR, just imagine all the fun things you'll get to do there, or visualize your WR (or script; meaning revise how you made your WR to be like)

OK, back to the DR part, daydreaming can be done in many ways, perhaps you'd like to zone out and fall into deep contemplation about your actions in your DR, kind of like a case study (for me, bringing up old events from my teenage years or something, specific memories arise which didn't make sense; like me ignoring someone I like, and try to figure out why I did it, this all strengthens your bond with your DR)

Or you could simply rewind your memories in your DR, or what you've planned for the upcoming days, what you were doing before shifting, my recommendation would be to kind of add lots of "too much information" like, where did you place the honey after you had finished baking that cake? Didn't you had to put a new bar of soap in the bathroom? Didn't you broke the button of your favorite coat yesterday?

Or If you're good at visualising, you can simply live an entire day in your DR (perhaps not an entire day, just visualise your morning routine)

Another good one, if you can't visualise or don't feel like it, open Pinterest, scroll through your home feed, and try to relate the pins you see to your DR (I was just about to buy that shirt; I swear I saw that exact same house somewhere; that cat looks exactly like my sister's cat)

Feel like your DR self now? If not you're definitely getting excited and prepared by now.

Step 3, Evening:

Now it's time to attach yourself firmly to your DR self.

Consume media which remind you of your DR self, try your luck with Character ai, maybe it'll make sense for once (make your own bots, add a little description of your DR self within the character details, the bot will remember your details, ask ill share a template :) your spotify playlist + pinterest, remind yourself, your DR is very much real, if it's possible, close your eyes periodically for a few minutes, imagine making decisions like your DR self, and facing the consequences right after; or you can have a small conversation with your loved ones, keep it related to your DR.

Eventually, you'll be led to nightfall, it's time to go home.

Step 4, Night:

Listen to the subliminals you've listened to during the day, again, for an hour at least, if you're doubting yourself, or feeling like you won't be able to do it, try to distract yourself by a memory from your DR or something, or simply, already get into you're DR self's mindset, say "affirmations" like these:

"What the heck is going on in my mind? Why am I thinking about shifting, I've already got so much work to do." (That was an example, get creative :)

If you're ready to start shifting, lay down in a comfortable position (or sit up but lean back on comfy pillows if you're in fear of falling asleep) take a few deep breaths, if you like meditation then do so, but it's not at all necessary, just relax.

....

Now shift (just kidding, use my method which I've explained thoroughly in my first post, follow it and no doubt you'll shift, you're invincible.)

...

I am very self assured in my method btw. Also I'll try not to be lazy and answer the questions in my inbox dw.

I'll also upload my script, since for once I've finally stopped crying about permashifting in every post.

Good luck, you'll shift tonight, no doubt.

Remember to look at shrimp colors at least once in your waiting room.

[dcxdpdabbles]

can you write the batfam going to amity due to *reasons* and alls well until Jason feels like he SHOULDNT go near since it’s Danny’s Haunt? Like how Crime Alley is ‘his’ Haunt? And batfam thinks he’s just being dramatic but uh, yeah he isn’t.

"I'm not going in there," Jason repeated, standing on the side of the highway, arms crossed over his chest and a stubborn scowl on his face.

"Jay, please get back in the van," Bruce sighed while the rest of the Waynes stared from their seats. They had originally all gotten off, but when the second eldest had started yelling, Bruce herded everyone back inside, including Dick.

No one knows why Jason was acting like this.

A few minutes earlier, he had napped comfortably in the far back of the large van Bruce had rented. The family had been on a cross-country road trip, where they all piled in together and let the GPA lead them to their final destination- Wayne Mountain Hotsprings. Alfred had the idea to practically kick everyone out of the manor to bond.

Members of their various teams would watch Gotham for the three weeks they would be gone. This week, Kon and Bart texted Tim updates. At first, the Waynes were not entirely up for the trip, but after a few hours of driving, they all enjoyed singing random songs and researching their vacation pick.

They each got to pick one random spot they wanted to stop at one the way- tourist trap or not- and Damian had been excited to go to "America's most haunted town." He had even been able to contact local ghost hunters who were excited to give them a tour. The Waynes would spend the night at the only hotel in the city and leave tomorrow morning.

That was the plan until Jason woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, "Pull over! Pull over! I can't go in there!"

It gave everyone a heart attack. Bruce had nearly driven into the other lane as Jason had been attempting to unbuckle himself and- were it not for Cass's quick reflection- fling himself from the moving vehicle. As soon as they found a safe spot to pull over, Jason leaped from the van and placed himself in front of the Welcome to Amity Park sign

A little up the road, they could see the city's outskirts. The Fentons, the acclaimed ghost hunters, were expecting them in twenty minutes. Damian was getting angsty.

"Can you explain why you can't go into Amity Park?" Bruce questions, stepping closer. "I won't make you go in there. I just need to know what's going on."

"Don't you feel that?" Jason asks, gesturing to the air around them. "It feels unsafe."

"What does?"

"The vibes," Jason said straightly, and Bruce's left eyebrow was spammed. "The vibes are choking."

Bruce takes another step closer, voice lowering into the familiar tone of comforting a scared civilian. "Jay what do you mean by that."

Jason opened his mouth only to snap his head upwards with a scream. "He's here!"

Everyone looked up—or at least those in the van by a window—only to see nothing. There was nothing there that could have freaked out Jason so much. The sun, maybe? Gotham wasn't known for its sunlight, and perhaps the fact that he grew up without it made it extra terrifying to the Gothamite.

Jason leaped behind Bruce, hiding like he did as a child. Now that Jay was taller than his father and buckler, it was a strange sight. "I'm sorry! I swear I wasn't going in!"

"Jaylad, what-"

"Ghost detected." The robotic voice of Damian's official ghost-hunting equipment made everyone freeze. The boy had opened the door of the van, escaping Duke's attempted grasp, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the little machine in his hand.

It came from the Fentons' online store, and although it didn't work, Damian enjoyed walking around with it, searching for the paranormal. The rest of the family saw it as an age-appropriate make-believe, sighing in relief when he waved his little box around before deeming the area safe.

As it were, Damian waved the box again, letting the machine hum and bling as it landed on a particular spot in the sky. "Ghost detected. Ghost detected. Ghost located. Ghost is ten feet before you."

"Oh wow," An unknown voice said over the sound of rushing cars on the highway. Damian's eyes widen. "Haven't seen that design of the Fenton Finder in years. First edition, isn't it?"

Damian eyes are practilly sparkling as he puffs out his chest "It is! Are you a ghost?"

"Yeah." Suddently a glowing flouting transparent boy pops into thin air. No sound, no portal, not rush of air. Just one second he's there. He offers Damian a wide warm smile, that somehow makes his glowing green eyes menecing. "I'm Danny Phantom."

He turns his eyes back to Jason as Damian gapes at him. The boy had thought Phantom was a local urban legend. He has been decorating his room with "captured" images of Phantom for years. He turns to Tim, hissing for a pen and his photo binder.

"You." Phantom points at the cowering man. "Feel strange. You're overshadowed, but at the same time, there is no foreign soul in your body. What are you?"

"Um, I'm just here on vacation with my family-oh!" Jason words are cut off as Phantom flings himself at the pair. Before Bruce or Jason can react the ghost has his hands inside of Jason chest, ramaging around like it's a bag. Oddly enough, this makes Jason blush.

"Hmm. Yeah, there is no other ghost here. Are you haunting your own corpse?" Phantom floats upwards to stare into Jason's eyes. "Or are you a Halfa?"

"My own corpse," Jason gasps, but Bruce decides he's not about to let whoever this bothers his son, pushing Phantom back. Only somewhat surprised by the fact he made contact the hero's grunts

"Kindly keep your hands to yourself."

"Sorry," Phantom mutters, flouting back. He fidgets with his glowing white hair while shifting his feet. "I just wanted to be sure he was safe. You may enter."

And with another pop, he's gone.

Damian makes a sad whine in the back of his throat, holding a picture of a blurred image of Phantom and a pen. He flipped through the binder, attempting to find the clearest one while the ghost chatted with his father and brother. "I didn't get an autograph."

"There's always next time," Tim offered, patting the boy back as he led him towards his seat in the van again. You should keep that on your person so if you run into him again, we can get it signed for you quickly."

"Okay"

"Phew," Jason breathed, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "That was terrifying. Anyway, we should get going, I don't want to be late for the Fentons."

He ignored Bruce's look, walking back as if he hadn't held them up for nearly forty minutes because the vibes were bad.

Bruce stared as Jason skipped back to the van, feeling very old and single. Maybe he should try calling the blind date Alfred had attempted to set up for him. He needs some support in raising his children. He has too many white hairs as it were.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 9: As Long As I’m Held, I Don’t Care If It’s By Teeth

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 (Here!) / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /

‘A family is forever.’

It sounded like static. At least the first few times, until her ears finally tuned in to the words as if she clicked into the right channel.

‘A family is forever.’

She was sitting on a small bed, made for a child, with colorful lines on the bedsheets. Toy cars and dolls were scattered on the floor. Posters of movies, old series, and robots hang on the walls. A pair of white sneakers with green stripes were just by her bare feet.

When she lifted her head, a twin bed stood parallel to hers on the other side of the room.

It was empty. The bedsheets were unmade.

‘A family is forever.’

The door of the bedroom creaked open. She got up and walked through the frame, encountering a never-ending hall of different types of doors. Their shapes, colors, and sizes, changed in the blink of an eye.

They were glitching.

‘A family is forever.’

It was a woman’s voice, the one repeating those words over and over again and echoing down the long hall and reaching her still body. Sinking right through her skin and enveloping her senses. 

It felt like she was in some kind of trance.

Her steps felt light, like walking in a cloud. She walked down the hall, hands hovering right in front of her as she scanned the changing doors. Trying to figure out which one was the right one.

The right one for what? She wasn’t sure, but it had to be the right one.

Another creak was heard farther down, making her snap her head towards the noise. There, in a dark corner, a red glitching figure dived inside a half-opened wooden door on the right side of the hall.

She didn’t hesitate and started to run. 

“Hey, wait!” she yelled, running harder when she took notice of the hallway narrowing down and the doors glitching and slamming open and closed.

The groaning and splintering of wood made her look over her shoulder. The sight of the hall falling apart in a dark hole made her sprint harder, and she decided not to look back again, as cold sweat dripped down her temple.

As she passed by the doors, bits of conversations filtered through her head.

‘My wife and her flying saucers’  ‘My husband and his indestructible head’

Dad? Mom?

‘I'm so sorry. Excuse me. I am Glamour, and this is my delightful assistant, Illusion.’ ‘I am Glamour, and he's Illusion!’  ‘Yeah, what she said. Today, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe!’

Where are you? What is this?

‘I can't tell from this angle.’  ‘I can’t wait to be a proud papa-ya!’

Dad. I’m right here?

‘That puts you at about... six months! Boy, oh, boy, I thought I had superspeed. I can't keep up! Please don't misinterpret; I can't wait to meet you, little Billy.’  ‘Billy?’  ‘Yeah!’  ‘Well, I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic, all-American name.’  ‘Hmm, Tommy? Hmm, yeah. Yeah. Then there's Billy, isn't there? Named after William Shakespeare, “All the world’s a stage. All the men and women are merely players.”’  ‘Well, I guess there's only one solution to this debate. Hope for a girl.’

MOM, I AM RIGHT HERE. MOM. DAD. MOM-

‘Can you believe it? Twins!’ 

‘I’m a twin. I had a brother. His name was Pietro-’

A deafening screeching sound made her scream out, covering her ears and scrunching her eyes shut. But she didn’t stop running. She could feel the floor splintering under her feet, scraping the skin and making it bleed.

But she didn’t stop running.

If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen how everything around her had blurred out, or how her legs were leaving an imprint on the floor by how fast she was running.

‘You know, I don't miss the crying, but jeez Louise, did you have to learn to walk? You two never stay put.’

There! The door!

She reached out for it as it began to close, slamming it closed behind her and sinking to the floor with a crushing sob. Her back against it, hanging onto dear life by the frame of it as it rattled and tried to get busted open by the unseen force.

Then, silence.

She didn’t even notice she had her eyes screwed shut, tears slippnig down her cheeks as sobs ripped out of her throat.

What was happening? What is this? So lost, so confused. She wanted this to stop. The pain, the noise, everything. She just wanted to go ho-

“Sweetie, did you fall?” a motherly, warm tone snapped her out of her internal turmoil.

She wasn’t in the manor. Gone where the dark walls and expensive painted portraits. The smell of old dust and piney scent was no longer there. Instead, bright colors and a living room straight out of an 80s sitcom, with the heavenly aroma of freshly baked cookies and the faint smell of spices in the air, stood right in front of her.

But what took her breath away was the curly-haired woman wearing a suspender pants and a square-pattern shirt with a gentle smile on her face.

“Look at you! You’re bleeding, sweetheart!” she fussed, taking her in her embrace and carrying her towards the huge kitchen.

The woman settled her on the counter, muttering to her and wiping away her tears with her fingers. She kissed her forehead before separating from the girl and walking around the kitchen, picking up paper towels and a glass of water.

The girl looked around until she made eye contact with her reflection on the metal toaster. Gasping, as her little fingers touched around her face and the new wardrobe. A long-sleeved striped shirt and green overalls made out of soft material, her hair in two ponytails with huge green plastic balls on the hairties. Two on each side.

She didn’t even notice how small she had become. She looked like she was five years old!

“That’s why we always wear our shoes when running around, sweetheart.” The woman began to wipe off the blood on her feet, making her focus on her once again.

“Sorry,” wow, even her voice sounded small!

“Oh,” the woman cooed. “That’s alright. We all make mistakes, but we learn from them, right?”

She could feel tears coming out once again, lips trembling with an ugly sob, and pulling the woman in a state of panic. Items around the kitchen began to float, which only kick-started a new crying session.

The living room, the smells, the kitchen, the outfit. Everything. Everything was the same. This was home. But home had disappeared. Along with Mom. With Dad. With Billy. Home was gone. It was supposed to be gone. They were all supposed to be gone, but now she is here, and she knows it can’t be real. It can’t be real, but god, she wants it to be so bad, and it’s so selfish of her because Mom had to do the right thing, but she wants it back. And she wants it ba-

Her sobbing gets muffled as she gets pulled against somebody’s chest, hearing strong heartbeats under her ear. Hushing and soft words while her pony tails get undone by gentle hands, and soothingly caressing her hair.

Her Mom continued to hold her until her sobs settled down, taking big breaths as she gripped her mother’s clothes.

“You’re so strong, my sweet girl.” She said. “You have done what you can by yourself, and I’m so proud.”

“I wanna stay here,” the girl whimpered.

“I know.”

“I wanna be with you and dad.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want Billy with me.” She sniffled, lifting her head and looking at her teary-eyed mother. Her mom smiled wetly, cupping her cheeks and stroking the chubby skin with a soft laugh.

“He’s coming, sweetie. He’s closer than you think.” 

The light in the room began to brighten up. Muffled noise coming from outside the house. She looked around, heart pounding as the walls and the tables started to glitch and disappear.

When she turned to look back at her mom, she was standing up and face to face with her. Back to her real height, it seemed. 

“Mom, please,” the girl pleaded, hugging the woman tightly. “Don’t make me leave. Stay, please.”

Her mom held her tightly, making sure the girl’s face was against her body so she wouldn’t look at the glitching house. “Billy is close. I am close, and so is your father.”

The girl shook against her, hands fisting around Wanda’s shirt, as if hanging as tightly as she could would be enough to keep her grounded to her.

“Mama, I can’t do it. Not alone.” She whimpered, feeling the counter glitching behind her and the voices outside becoming louder.

“You’re not alone. And you're strong,” Wanda took her daughter’s head away from her shoulder so she would be able to look at her directly. She smiled widely at the crying girl.

“You’re a Maximoff. You’re strong and brave. And you will never be alone, because you have a family out there looking for you, and you need to hang on.”

The girl took deep breaths, and the ground started to glitch beneath the two of them. But she only looked at Wanda.

Even when everything glitched out and became black, all she heard was her mother’s voice.

“A family is forever. We could never truly leave each other even if we tried.”

“-me on! Snap out of it!”

She blinked, a loud, grave voice yelling right in her face, making her wince out loud. The bruising grip on her arms suddenly loosened as the tall, concerned man took a few steps back from her space.

The cold night breeze had made her skin cold to touch, her senses finally kicking back in. She quickly hugged herself, looking around the empty street she had woken up in.

The street lights flickered every three seconds. The road was soaked with what she supposed was from the late-night rain she remembered pouring outside in the manor while she listened to Wayne’s recordings once again. There were a few parked cars scattered around, some of them visibly damaged with broken windows and missing tires. The smell of trash and smoke almost made her cough and gag, but her teetering teeth made sure that didn’t happen.

She was wearing her sleeping clothes, a worn t-shirt of a seventies asian singer, and pajama shorts that she only used for the sake of wearing something underneath. 

…She didn’t like long pants for sleeping. It was a pain in the ass waking up with pantaloons after twisting around in bed, don’t judge.

“What are you doing out?” The man in front of her growled out, an angry frown on his face. “It’s three and a half in the morning, and you thought going for a stroll down in Chinatown was a good idea?!”

He was tall, really tall. And built like a tank, judging by how his arms and legs threaten to rip out the seams of his clothes if he dared to flex even a little bit (best to take cover if something like that happened-). His hair was a messy mop of black, with a white streak curling in the front. A healed scar running down the side of his cheek, accompanied by a toxic green glare that truly made her hesitate to move from her spot.

If she weren’t so disoriented, she would probably yell at him to mind his own business and walk away. But right now, her mind is still wobbly, so her charming comebacks are a no-go.

��I’m-” Her hand instantly went to her throat, caught off guard by how cracked it sounded. As if she were screaming her head off. She cleared it with a cough, wincing at the raspy sensation.

“I don’t know.” She groaned out, receiving a blank look from the fuming man.

He began to take off his jacket and put it around her freezing body, the whole time grumbling under his breath about ‘damned Wayne genes of acting dumb’ and ‘how are you even so far away from the manor’. She gawked at him, shoving her arms inside the huge sleeves.

Until she noticed a familiar flickering pattern from a nearby street light.

“.--- .- ... --- -. .-.-.- / -... . / -.-. .- .-. . ..-. ..- .-..”

JASON. BE CAREFUL

‘So this is Jay,’ She mused to her thoughts, letting him guide her down the street with a hand on her shoulder.

Wayne barely mentioned him. All that she had learned about the missing brother of the family was from the recording tapes and mentions from eavesdropping conversations around the mansion by pretending to ignore them while using her headphones.

And most of the information she found wasn’t exactly good.

₊°︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ‧₊˚

Diary Entry: Year 8

“...I don’t really know how to begin his tape.”

“I’m supposed to be happy. Be glad that he’s back with us. That he is alive and safe and finally home…”

“But it feels wrong.”

“He looks wrong.”

“His eyes look so, so wrong.”

“...Mom mentioned something like it. A long time ago, when she wasn’t like she is now. About old rituals. Of bringing people back from the dead. She said that it was never good to anger Death, especially when it’s about taking a soul away from her.”

“Whoever takes from Death shall pay the consequences with their blood. Mom always warned me about it… But I can’t tell Dad about it.”

“He is still strange. With Jason back, he barely leaves the office, and in the past years, even mentioning Jason would be enough for him to shut down and disappear for days.”

“And Jason… he has changed. A lot.”

“He’s so angry. At everyone. And I can’t blame him for it because he has every reason to, no matter how much Dick tries to make things smoother.”

“...But sometimes, letting people be angry is a good thing. It is good that Jason feels angry rather than nothing.”

“No matter how much he scares me now, I prefer that he yells and fights and argues.”

“Even if I miss his smile and his talks, I know that Jason is gone.”

“All that is left is the anger, and I’m okay with that.”

“Even if it hurts.”

“Even if it scares me.”

₊°︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ‧₊˚

At least, she wasn’t the only undead person in the family. Yay!

Though both of their cases were quite different, there was one common fact. Which was that the two of them didn’t come back the same after their deadly encounters.

She still didn’t know how exactly Jason came back to life (still researching on that), but she was sure that Jason didn’t get his soul switched up by some twin brother that somehow-

“Since when do you sleepwalk?” He asked, gathering her attention once again.

The question made sense. She remembered falling asleep on her bed, all the tapes around the mattress before snoring her ass off all sprawled out over the covers. Then, that dream sequence (that’s still stuck in her head, by the way. Because she saw her mom. Her real mom. Her real house. She finally has her real last name. She is a Maxi-) and now, she woke up while standing in the middle of a street with no shoes and-

Wait. That’s right.

She ran. 

She ran barefoot.

Jason yelped when she came to a full stop, lifting up her foot and holding it with her hands with a puzzled expression at the sight of the skin.

See, the skin on the soles of your feet, while thick, is still delicate and can be damaged by friction and pressure. Even in her dream, she had her feet all scraped and bleeding from mere wooden splinters. If she had managed to get out of the manor, go through the rocky path towards the gate, climb over the gate, and go through the dirty streets of Gotham while running, there was a huge probability that her feet were screaming out in pain, and she wouldn’t be standing at all.

Instead, there was no sight of blood. Not even a scratch on her skin.

“Damn lucky, if you ask me,” Jason said, tilting his head as he observed her unscatched skin. A glint of wonder in his gaze directed towards her.

“Yeah, lucky me,” She muttered, wiping away some of the dirt on her foot and sighing. She smoothed back her hair, some annoying strands bothering her view while staring at Jason with a grimace. “I guess you’re my ride back?”

He stood quiet for a moment, his glare getting under her skin and making her feel on the edge about his unsettling green color.

Wayne was right. Something about him was off.

“No, actually,” He grunted, walking forward and nodding towards an upcoming familiar car. “That would be Alfred. Good luck on that rant, kid.”

Jason walked over and passed the car, giving Alfred a quick nod as he got out of the car before continuing down the street to get on an old-fashioned bike that was parked further down.

Guessing on how much Alfred’s sharp eyebrows furrowed on his forehead, she knew she was having a long ride back to the mansion.

Well, she got a lot of things out of this. For example, Jason was also someone that she should avoid (still questioning that). And, of course, a very important detail.

Maximoff. She has her name back.

Fucking finally.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Contrary to what Tim believed, sleeping in the Titan’s tower did not work out like he expected.

His mind was on the verge of a breakdown, his brain begging for rest and sleep, but still refusing to do so. Like his own body knew what it needed to do, had even tried to do so without his permission, by the multiple times he jolted back to consciousness after nodding off in front of the main computer, or the sound of his friend walking down the halls.

Tim compared his situation to Pavlovian conditioning. And he was sure two people shared the blame.

It was a classical conditioning experiment or respondent conditioning. A behavioral learning process where a neutral stimulus becomes associated with an unconditioned stimulus, leading to a learned response to the formerly neutral stimulus. 

This process was named after the russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov, who famously demonstrated it through his experiment with dogs.

In the experiment, three things were used: a dog, a bell, and food. The neutral stimulus (the bell) is repeatedly paired with an unconditioned stimulus (the food), which naturally elicits a reflexive response (the dog starting to salivate whenever he hears the bell because he knows that when the bell rings, he will be getting food). 

In his case, Tim was the dog, and his reflexive response was sleep.

And the bell was his sister’s piano.

He thought it was stupid at first, but after a week and a half without proper sleep or naps, everything made sense.

Tim had associated his sister’s music with sleep. Unconsciously conditioning himself and his body to wait for the soft keys of the same old song echoing in the halls, so he would allow his tiredness and sleep to consume him and go to bed. And he had done it for years, even! Without ever noticing what she was doing!

Because two share the blame in this.

Him, because he was stupid enough to get himself conditioned like a fucking dog and understimating her.

And her, because, of course, she had these intentions the whole time.

Drive him insane without her music. Her daily check-ups. Not picking up his dirty dishes in the hall. It was all part of her meticulous plan of starving and depriving him of sleep.

He couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, rubbing his eyes while leaning back in his chair.

His clever and cunning sister.

‘I can’t believe she managed to outsmart me,’ he thought as a contented smile pulled to his lips.

Maybe it was pride that he felt. Proud that she had twisted the odds and put him down from his high horse by playing the long game. By acting with patience. Waiting for the perfect moment to take away something as simple as-

“Still can’t sleep?” Conner’s voice kicked him out of his head, turning around in his chair to look at his concerned friend.

Conner had been the one to suggest that Tim could take a break in the tower, noticing on their calls that he wasn’t resting enough due to the current case going on in Gotham. And the young Kryptonian had been checking on him during his whole stay.

But no matter how much Kon tried to get him to talk, Tim wouldn’t say what was really going on.

He will keep his discovery to himself. No one else.

He was the one to figure her out.

His discovery. 

His investigation. 

His and only his.

“Just a bit,” Tim lied with ease, turning back his chair to the computer. The screen shows the new statistics and documents from the missing kids case. “I’m still going through the clinic documents that B sent a few days ago.”

Bruce had found their missing piece: Medical History.

All of the victims had been visiting hospitals in Manchester, Metropolis, Bludhaven, and Gotham in the past three years. General and specialized clinics.

Clinics that worked with genetics, specifically.

Kon leaned with his elbow against the back of Tim’s chair, scanning through the documents on display with intrigue. “What are your theories? Trafficking? Ransom?”

“It’s too late for ransom,” Tim muttered, tapping away on the keyboard for more documents to pop on the screen. “And trafficking would be more precise. Like a group of kids that stayed out too late or anything along that line, all of the children were taken at different times and with weeks of difference-”

Tim’s personal phone began to vibrate on the table, drawing both of their attention.

He took his phone, frowning at the ID Caller being none other than the demon spawn of his nightmares. He answered.

“What could you possibly want, Damian?”

The boy ignored his slashing tone. ”When are you returning, Drake?”

“Why do you even care?” Tim gave Kon a roll of eyes, to which the taller guy just shrugged.

“Because you’re the only one competent enough to hack into Arkham Asylum’s archives without questioning too much.”

“...You want me to what?”

“I am well aware you don’t lack hearing, Drake.”

Tim stood up from his chair, motioning to Kon to stay there as he walked outside the room to talk in the hall with his demanding younger brother. “I will need some context if you want me to do this behind B’s back.”

The line went quiet for a moment, hearing some door closing in the background and some shuffling around.

“I found some letters in Father’s office. Hiding in a compartment on his desk.” That got a groan out of Tim.

“Damian, you know that Bruce doesn’t like it when-”

“They’re letters for Embarrassment.”

That got Tim’s attention. “From Arkham? Letters from Arkham? To her? From who?”

“They’re all signed as U.H.. I believe the U stands for uncle, judging by the contents of the letter.”

“You read them?”

“And so will you, if you manage to hack into the Arkahm archives so we can figure out who this bastard is.”

The older sibling was very intrigued, despite the headache that was invading his brain. He was pretty much in the moment she was part of the investigation (more information about her, the more he could have in common with her-), but he would still complain about it just to annoy the little demon.

“And why is this bastard so important to you?”

The next words out of Damian’s mouth sent him down a spiral and directly to pack his things so he could head out of the tower as soon as possible.

“Because he is taking her away. All of the legal custody belongs to him.”

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“I have made it perfectly clear, Clark.”

It’s been three days since that urgent meeting.

Three long days of rejected calls, ignoring messages, and blocking emails from everyone in the league, trying to change Bruce’s mind on the whole ordeal before he made a big mistake that could lead them to a completely preventable war.

Though that scenario was a bit extreme. But you could get the point.

“I get your point. I do,” the hero of Metropolis assented, his hands over the long meeting table in the Hall of Justice. “But you have to see what the consequences of your rule can bring to everyone else. Especially to Gotham.”

The Bat didn’t even look up from his file report. 

“I do know. And the answer is still the same as before,” It didn’t take too much for Clark to know Bruce was glaring at him once he dropped the file to look at the hero directly.

“No metas in my city. And that includes mutants.”

Clark shook his head with a sigh. “You can’t control that. There’s no way of knowing who is a meta when they’re not actively using their powers, and mutants have been fighting for years for their rights and avoiding a legal registry so they can live normal lives.”

“Then, Gotham is not the place for that normal life.” Bruce shot back. But Clark didn’t let it deter him.

“So what then? The moment a mutant kid has their abilities awakened, they should just pack up and move? Leave their family and the place they have only known as home?”

Bruce got up from his chair, posture upright and tight. But didn’t say a word, simply glared at the fuming man in blue and red.

“...I know we are negotiating with a dangerous man,” Clark said in a calmer tone, sitting down on the nearest chair. “But Erik Lehnsherr is only trying to get rights for mutants after years and years of discrimination. I have interviewed mutants, Bruce. They are still humans and deserve to-”

“I will not,” his voice was like rumbling thunder, coming from deep in his chest and thundering around the empty room. “Listen to the pleas of a madman and a terrorist, Kent.”

They stared at each other for a few deafening moments of silence. The harsh exchange of words brought a tense and cold atmosphere between the two leagues’ most important members. Bruce’s chest was still as stone, but Clark could hear the blood pressure going up in the Bat’s veins.

It was Bruce who moved first. Picking up his things and walking towards the exit door, he muttered to Clark on his way out.

“No mutants in Gotham, that’s my order.”

Clark mused to himself, now alone at the table. The tip of his fingers tapped against the white fiberglass table.

At least, the meeting with Magneto wasn’t as ineffective as this chat with Bruce.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

“-we’ve talked about it and we’re still discussing the outcome of such demand, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

The whole League was gathered with a rush from the sudden call, sitting on their designated chairs with Batman at the head of the table and Superman and Wonder Woman on both of his sides. 

A life-sized hologram of the man the world used to know as Magneto (now known as Erik Lehnsherr, ruler of Genosha) stood proud and tall with his hands behind his back as he listened to Wonder Woman’s words.

He was an older man, significantly older than the rest of the heroes by appearance, despite the good shape he was in. Judging by his muscles and good health, Lehnsherr took care of himself and kept a balanced way of life. He had a head of full white hair, slicked back with stray strands framing his severe face. Tanned skin, covered by an armor of red and purple accents. A dramatic cape was draped over his shoulders, and it waved at his ankles. His helmet, floating just beside him since the beginning of the meeting.

He commanded attention. Power. And Clark could see that Bruce did not like him one bit.

“Wonder Woman,” his deep, accented voice filtered through the sound system. “I am well aware that as an important security branch of the American government, you must make alliances with ‘threatening’ countries for the sake of your president’s peace.”

Everyone could understand what he meant by that.

“But,” he drawled, gaze sharpening towards the man sitting at the head of the table. “I can’t simply grant access to Genosha to the same government my people had to take refuge from. I have, above all, the security and well-being of my kind as a top priority.”

That’s when Clark decided to give his piece to the discussion. “We understand your views on the manner, sir. But what you ask in exchange-”

“Your leader wants to know if I’m making weapons. If I’m building an army.”

Glances and stares were exchanged as the silence in the room became tense.

But Erik Lehnsherr simply sighed, suddenly looking way older by the look in his eyes. 

“I know my reputation. I know my history, and that can’t be mended. No one can erase the mistakes from the past. What is done is done, and I’ve made my bed with it.”

Suddenly, he turned, making sure he could look at every hero sitting at the table.

“All that I do, all that I’ve done, is for my kind. For the new generation of mutant children. So they are able to walk securely on the streets. Be accepted into normal schools. Live normal lives without the fear of getting chased or isolated by something they were simply born with. Simply because nature decided they would be different.”

He looked over his shoulder at the three main leaders.

“I am willing to have official visits from any of your members, monthly or yearly, with strict conditions during your stay.”

A few members visibly sighed in relief at that. They have been trying to get somewhere with this manner, and it was finally showing that it would be getting to a more positive route.

“As long as you grant sanctuary to mutants in your protected cities.”

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

And that’s when the meeting went to shit.

All because Bruce didn’t want mutants in Gotham, and Erik wanted sanctuary in each city that was under the territory of every single member of the Justice League.

“All or nothing” was what he said before leaving the meeting.

Clark understood both sides. Gotham is a stressful place, always under threat, and it could trigger a powerful mutant and cause more trouble and damage.

But most of these mutants were just kids. Scared children who have nowhere else to turn but their clueless families. And of course, a huge part of the homeless community was formed by mutants. People who didn’t get any help or were denied the help they deserved.

Maybe he was being biased, but Clark would have to change Bruce’s mind.

And that thought alone made sure he had a headache for the rest of the day.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“Give me two more laps, Wayne!”

When Mr. Munroe had inscribed her to the track and field team, she wasn’t expecting him to become her coach.

“The school said they didn’t have enough people to form an official team. They just let athletes warm up in the track, and that’s it. But what your family doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

And with that, she had an excuse to stay after school. Track and field practice with Mr. Munroe (Who insisted on being called Logan, but just to get on his nerves, she started calling him Mr. Logan-).

Even if it was a made-up club, she had Mr. Logan as backup in case something happened.

And it wasn’t like she wasn’t practicing!

“Come on, Babes! You can run faster than that!” Bobby yelled and clapped from a bench as she jogged by him. She gave him a quick middle finger before sprinting down the track, his loud laugh making her grin.

Warren and Bobby were also tagging along with her to pretty much everywhere.

They took most of their classes together, excluding extracurricular activities (meaning Bobby’s baseball team and Warren’s debate team). Other than that, they would be attached to the hip even while at lunch or free period.

No matter how much Warren complained about needing to study, he wouldn’t move away from the two smiling idiots.

“She is gonna burn those shoes again,” Warren muttered, without looking up from his notebook, while Bobby turned to look at him.

“We put tape and glue on the soles yesterday, it’ll be fine.” He shrugged, glancing back at her as she began to run her last lap.

That would have been her twentieth lap. And it’s only been less than half an hour. Both of them knew she was fast, but it still shocked them how fast she actually was. 

On Tuesday, she made five laps while still wearing her school uniform, not a single sweat in sight, but her shoes were suffering the consequences.

On Wednesday, she made ten laps with proper shoes and attire. Still not a sweat in sight, but she looked thin after running. Until Mr. Logan shoved some homemade energy bars into her hands and gave her a rant about eating properly and having enough calories in her food.

On Thursday, (While looking pretty much half dead and complaing about sleepwalking) Warren gave her the number of his tailor. Her uniform was way too big on her and needed adjustments. Bobby decided to keep a closer look at how much she was eating and the number of servings she got at lunch (A total of six servings, and big enough to make him a bit nauseous. That’s without counting all the snacks Mr. Logan kept giving her throughout the day and in practice.) She made fifteen laps. And the soles of the shoes chaffed off. 

It’s Friday, and she just made twenty laps without a single sweat. In just five minutes. And no shoes burned.

“Oh shit!”

Scratch that. Two shoes burned.

Warren closed his notebook, walking towards an exasperated Mr. Logan, who inspected the ruined shoes, and a whining girl, who sat on the ground with her legs sprawled out as she ripped off her socks. Bobby followed him.

Her green jacket (a track jacket that she always wore to practice) and running attire (A white compression shirt and some green Lycra shorts with white stripes on the sides) didn’t show any signs of perspiration. Not even her skin seemed to sweat (and now it had some light tan to it, after spending this week running outside on breaks and in the afternoon).

“Looks like you need new shoes, bub. Can’t let you run in these anymore.” Mr. Logan said, making her throw herself back on the ground with a wail. “You melted the glue with your laps. The track is probably running hotter than I expected.”

For many reasons, Warren didn’t believe anything in that last sentence.

Bobby crouched down next to her as she mourned the death of her precious shoes, tapping her forehead so she would at least look at him. He smiled brightly when she opened her eyes and pouted up at him, making Warren roll his eyes.

“We can go shopping tomorrow! I need to buy clothes, and we could get you better shoes!”

Warren scrunched his eyes and crossed his arms. “Who is ‘we’?”

He was obviously ignored by both of them. She groaned out sitting up while slouching. “I can’t. I’m gonna go to the hospital to visit my mom in the afternoon.”

“We could go early,” Bobby offered, standing up and grabbing her arm to help her get off the floor. “I got my car, so we can go to the mall and then drop you off at the hospital! Maybe even meet your mom too!”

Warren waved his hand with a twitching smile. “Again, who is ‘we’?”

She threw herself over Bobby’s back, sighing at the cold temperature of his body and making the heat of the sun go away from her skin. Bobby jokingly broke his posture, receiving a whine and a pinch to the shoulder. He stood still as she looked over at Warren with a pleading glance.

“Would you guys do that? For me?” Bobby joined in the puppy dog eyes, both of them pouting at Warren as Mr. Logan shook his head in amusement, clapping off the dust from his hands as he walked away with the shoes.

Warren, red in the face, as his two friends scooched closer to him. Making exaggerated pleading faces and motions, until he groaned out to the sky and let them drag him into their weird and awkward embrace as they cheered.

“Fine, but only because I need to look for some shirts.” He grumbled, a twitch under the clothes on his back.

“It’s gonna be fun! We can also go eat something. I heard there’s this booming boba tea place, and I really want to try it. Oh, we can also go to Chili’s!” Bobby began to list off a lot of things to do, as he dragged both of his friends towards the bleachers to gather their things and kill some time before it was time for her to get picked up.

Maximoff could only think that she was glad to have people whom she could hang on to. 

Until Billy found her.

She could see them getting along with him. They could make a great group.

Perhaps… she could tell them what is truly going on. Eventually, obviously. 

Yeah, eventually.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Author's Note: PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, I'VE GOT A NEW CHAPTER FOR YOU!!! Literally locked in to write this chapter because I found out I was gonna spend the weekend celebrating my Mom's birthday. This is probably my favorite chapter to write uptill now. We got Mama Wanda, Insane Tim, PEEPAW MAGNETO- and more insight in the mutants💖😉 And got filled with energy by all the asks (AND NOW ACTUAL FANART???) and the love this story has been reciving. Keep in mind the new schedule! Update will be Sunday night/Monday morning. And remember that I love to answer comments and asks so keep them coming!! Lots of love and hugs. GG✨

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Bonus Memes:

[nymphaura777]

HOW TO MANIFEST ANYTHING??? : Only post you'll ever need

What if I told you, everything you desire is already yours?

So I'd start with the most basic thing which even you'd be tired of hearing

DECIDE, DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT, BE SPECIFIC

So many people have this thing that they are twisted and they don't know what they actually want they are like, I want this, and are like actually no, I want that, so basically they are just twisted in their mind about things : this happens mostly because either people are too excited or too confused about it, so just chill and relax and decide what you want, this is the most basic step ever, no doubts, no ifs, no buts it's already yours.

The key is not wanting it, the key is knowing it you already have it, you listen to subliminals, do 10000 manifestation methods, do robotic affirming several times but the million dollar question is, are you in the energy to have it? Are you even persisting in it? Are you even living like it's already yours? Many people would say it's like being delusional but no, my love, logic doesn't exist in manifestation.

Speak it, feel it, live with it

If you want to affirm once, just affirm once, if you believe saying it 100 times would work, then it works too, everything is based on your belief. If you want to listen subliminals then listen, if you want to do scripting, visualising, robotic affirming just do it, but don't forget to trust on what you're doing and don't let doubts have a control on you, cause doubts are meaningless and powerless, and why a powerful person should let doubts become heavy on them?

Let go of negative beliefs and limiting beliefs, For example : some say if you want to achieve an hourglass body you have to combine exercise with your manifestation process and trust me ITS THE BIGGEST LIE HERE (not completely denying cause they are making an assumption that they need to do work to achieve that), they are just imposing their limiting beliefs on you, if you think like one of these things :

- this is impossible to manifest

- I can't manifest that

- how can I have that it's impossible

- I need to do some work to have it

- I'm not worthy of what I desire

- Manifestation requires a lot of efforts

Then congratulations, you are having limiting beliefs and you definitely need to get rid of it!!!

Detach and Let go, stop obsessing over that thing, just let it go, once you would start feeling like it's already yours, you would start to detach from your desire? Why you need to do anything when you already have your desire? So just let go of every attachment and desire and BOOM 💥, let the magic happen.

So basically manifesting is all about :

1. DECIDE

2. AFFIRM

3. PERSIST

4. RELAX

5. LET GO

Hope this post was helpful y'all! See y'all in the next post

- xoxo 💋

Love from Celeste

[cy-cyborg]

Hi, I saw your rant-post about amputee representation and you brought up cyborgs/cyberpunk again.

Tbh I just stumbled upon your blog yesterday because I wanted to see what thoughts people on tumblr have about writing cyborgs, you know prompts, ideas, anything really and then I found your posts about amputee and realised that it's much deeper than just "okay what do other people think how to care about cybernetic enhancements?" but more like okay, I need to be careful in how I write this side character so I won't cause harm.

And yeah. I don't know if you answer asks like this but I was wondering since you mentioned it now again, how you wish the cyberpunk genre would represent amputees? Like what kind of issues should not be just "fixed" by tech no matter how advanced it is?

I would really like to try and represent my amputee character in a good way. I'm just a bit insecure on how to proceed.

Thanks!

Hey, I'm glad to hear that I made you think!

I have a post and video on my page (somewhere under all these asks lol) about the "prefect prosthetic" trope, which is a good place to start! Mainly, you want to focus on making something about the cybernetics different to the real thing, outside of just appearances. You don't want it to just be "arm, but shiny metal" - something about the way it functions should change.

For cyberpunk in particular though, I HIGHLY suggest looking at some of the shitty behaviour the irl prosthetic component manufacturers already do. Things like forcing amputees to have their logos on their bodies (and penalising us if we try to cover/remove them by voiding the warranty), which can actually be a problem for amputees wanting to go into jobs like acting or modelling, because you have a brand logo on you. Things like my prosthetic leg collecting data about me and my activity levels, which can be used against me to prove I'm not "using it enough" to warrant getting it fixed/replaced by insurance (in Australia, we have the NDIS but they work off the same principles) - that's also deeply unnerving to think about in general and you could take that a lot further in a cyberpunk setting. Also not making prosthetics for certain body types despite the tech being available, because there's "no demand for it" but they're the reason there's no demand. e.g. many companies don't make prosthetic leg components for people above a specific weight, because "people who are that big don't usually use prosthetics" but we don't use prosthetics because none of the existing components are safe for us to use, so we can't use them, which means there's no demand, so they don't make them and it becomes a weird cycle. this has contributed to MASSIVE issues with eating disorders in amputee circles as people desperately try to force themselves into the "acceptable" weight window so they don't loose the ability to walk.

Also, if you're going to tackle the "how much of your body can you replace with robotics before you stop being human/stop being you" question, be sure to tread carefully and remember that there are already real people who you might be (unintentionally) discussing the humanity of.

[keferon]

At the off chance I haven't gotten flagged as a robot again for hanging out in the void for too long-

A lil' drabble for your Mecha Pilot AU!

I bummed myself out thinking about a clueless Prowl and his bacteria boyfriend's enevetable, fast aproaching demise. So to cope, I came up with a possible lil' "solution" for the whole 'shortass teeny-tiny lifespan' situation all mecha pilots got going on!

So Vortex is haunted, right? Ghosts are a thing here. And the pilots own wellbeing automatically goes to the backburner when piloting their mecha, just no awareness of their own body whatsoever.

SO WHAT IF, after a grand'ol time of being lost in space with a bunch of aliens and aiding the local community, Jazz tries to disconnect from his mech for a bit only to find he can't, the other end of the line is completely silent.

At some point during the venture, maybe in a battle or because of some technical issue he wasn't privy to (or just flatout ignored), his vitals flatlined and he had absolutly no idea. He could have been rotting in there for weeks and he didn't notice. Not sure how he'd handle that revelation to be honest. But hey! at least he won't have to worry about mortality anymore! :D

(I really need better coping mechanisms)

…………….YOUR BRAIN ANON

Alright alright. HEAR ME OUT.

Do you remember how we were talking about sparks being radioactive?? What if instead of some kind of wound it’s radiation that kills Jazz? Or. Well. To be more precise not radiation but spark energy.

Just imagine. The final battle against Shockwave and/or Quintessons. The stakes are high the music is epic and everyone has to work together to survive. And after the glorious but tough win Jazz can finally stop and take a breath.

Except. He really can’t.

Because he was so focused on piloting. So focused on “being” his mech that he didn’t feel his own body getting weaker and weaker. And now he starts to slip into panic because his human body isn’t just dead it has been dead for a while. Everyone around him is celebrating. All humans and Cybertronians are smiling and laughing in relief and checking if everyone is alive while he stands there completely frozen and on the verge of breaking the fuck up because he’s DEAD and how much time does he have? Why is he still there?? Is it because his brain isn’t completely dead yet?? Human brain can only last five minutes before it dies completely. Does he have only those pathetic minutes?

He would panic so fucking bad

We would also need him to get his mech back at some point for that. Or. Well. He could die while piloting Prowl but I think Prowl would notice instantly.

[erwinsvow]

random but i can see rafe giving shy!reader like a large amount of “pocket money” and she’ll always wait until she’s fully broke and runs out (if she doesn’t have a job), she’d be so nervous to ask him for more.

at first you're so shy around rafe you can't even find it in you to question what the money is for—you just assume it's some sort of test. you keep the cash in your pretty pink wallet until it's so full it won't fit in your purse.

rafe has no reason to be giving you money—you've got your own, your parents', that is. and suddenly you start to question everything, start overthinking like normal. does rafe think you're reliant on him for money? if so, is he mad at you because of it?

one day when he comes over to your place for once, claiming he wanted to get away from his noisy house to the serenity and peace of your bedroom, you dig out the wallet from under your bed and drop it next to him. he's laying on the mattress, sprawled out playing chess with a robot. the wallet lands with a thud.

like always, you let him speak first.

"what the hell's this?" he asks, lifting the thoroughly packed leather.

"i'm giving it back," you state, trying to remain a little firm. it's so hard around him though.

"jesus, kid," he comments, flicking through the cash. "did y'spend any of it? huh?"

"n-no," you stammer, suddenly nervous. "i kept it safe for you, like you wanted." you look at him with big, confused eyes and he looks back at you in disbelief.

"s'not for that, baby. it's for spending. for nice things, y'know, all the crap you like."

"crap?" you question back.

"stuff. books and records and ice cream when m'not around. y'know, pocket money."

"but i already have that," you reply. "did you think i didn't? did i ask for it?" suddenly confused, you wonder how you gave rafe this implication. "sorry, rafe."

"why are you apologizin'?" you perch yourself next to him.

"i guess because i didn't spend it.."

"well, stop. just use it for somethin' nice. for yourself, not me." he clarifies because he knows you—knows you'll go find him a new polo or golf glove if he didn't tell you otherwise.

and the way he says it—you comply, pressing a kiss to his cheek, mind floating to all the ways you could use it—a new beach read, a new bikini for boat days, ice cream nights with wheezie and a big tip for the nice girls who worked at the parlor.

you were used to spending your dad's money, now you were spending daddy's money. it wasn't that big of a change after all.

and it's really not.. until you run out.

you never had to ask your parents twice for anything, but rafe gives you cash and you don't question why, but now that you're used to getting things from rafe's money, you don't want to revert back. in all honestly, it felt nice when someone asked you where you got something from and you could tell them your favorite words.

"my boyfriend got it for me!"

credit cards are unlimited, but cash runs out. and asking rafe for more seems like the absolute worst thing in the world, especially when you were so hesitant to even start using it.

approaching the door to rafe's bedroom, you pace infront of it for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. ward walks by and smiles at you, though he's confused at what you're doing. panicked, you run in, standing in front of your boyfriend while he's looking at something on his desk. rafe glances up when you walk in.

"hey, kid."

"hi." it even comes out nervous. rafe shuts his laptop at the sound of your voice.

"what is it?" he asks, and you blink back in response.

"what's.. what?"

"y'think i can't tell when you're off? c'mon, start talkin'." you give in immediately.

"well... it's just, um, this cash. your cash. i ran out. and, um, this book i wanted releases out tomorrow. and i told wheezie i'd take her to the movies because that book we both like is a movie now, and it comes out this weekend, and y'know she's a child so-"

"yeah. m'aware."

"sorry," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. "sorry." he gets up from the desk, and you wonder if you really messed up by demanding so much.

"what'd i tell ya? stop apologizin'." when he gets close, rafe does what he always does, lifting your chin up so you're looking at him, his fingers resting on your jaw. "what'd you think? i'm gonna say no to you?"

"maybe. i'm being kinda greedy."

"nah, kid. be as greedy as you want." when you smile, he laughs at you, at how nervous you still get, how worried you are that you're doing something wrong. "besides, i got some ideas on how y'can make it up to me."

sounds like a win-win for you.

[marvelstan0905]

"What do you mean a real baby?!"

Kenji Sato X [afab]reader [Oneshot]

TW : spouse reader/petnames/implied sex/pregnancy/Emi mention/panic/mixed POV

Hi guys so I made this on a whim, lmao. Just came to my head lmao. I haven't properly proofread it yet but I hope you like it😫🥺

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

He didn't know what to do. Kenji found it. The thing that turned his world into a total 180 once again. As Kenji stared down at the positive pregnancy test he found in trash, Kenji's mind was racing a million miles per house. He had just started adjusting to life without Emi, he would visit the kaiju infant from time to time but now this...was something else.

"How the hell did this happen?! I mean..I know how it happened but how?!" Kenji murmured to himself. His wife was at the store and he was taking the time to properly process everything. "Ken Sato..y-you can do it...no you can't! Oh my God!"

Kenji started panicking a little. Mina tried to calm him down. "Ken, you need to calm down. Your heart is racing. You'll be fine. A human child is almost the same as Emi" Mina reported. The robot assistant hovered next to Kenji as he clawed at his hair panicked.

"MINA! What do I do? That's an actual baby! Something my size! No...even smaller" Kenji gulped whiles hugging his knees. Kenji didn't even notice that the door had opened and his wife had returned from the store.

"Baby? You okay? What's going on?" I asked deeply worried as I sat down on my knees on the bed. I gently pet my husband's head. I looked around to find anything to give me a clue as to what made my husband panic so much. My eyes stopped as I found the positive test, I had taken a few hours ago. I hadnt been feeling well for a few weeks, before then Kenji I had been going at it like rabbits so it was kinda..expected. With widened eyes, I took a deep breath and gently hugged him. "Talk to me. Whats going on your head? And yes, I am pregnant"

Kenji's world turned upside once again. He felt alot of things now with this confirmation. Worry, happiness, panic, joy, fear. It was all over the place. "I mean..wow...I'm worried about taking care of a human baby this time.. they're much smaller" Kenji started and exhaled deeply. I hummed listening to him. "Don't get me wrong I'm happy..I'm j-just worried I'm not up to it. This baby is different from a Kaiju. W-What if i end up like my dad? Or my kids end up hating me later because of Ultraman"

"Kenji..breath. Deep breathes, okay? Shhh.."I soothed my husband as I listened to him. I put my hands on his shoulder and gently massaged him to ease his tension. "Honey..I know you're worried but trust me, you've got this. You're gonna be an excellent father. Think about it..remember how you took care of Emi. You're her dad too" I started whiles kissing his face softly.

"You're gonna be a better father than you're dad. You know firsthand how it felt with your dad and I know you wouldn't want our baby to feel how you did. You're gonna be fine. One day at a time. Plus we took care of Emi so well and look her..she's the most beautiful and friendly Kaiju" I reassured him. Kenji took deep breathes and listened to me. His stress and worries were eased but not completely.

"You're right. You're right.." Kenji murmured.

"I'm always right" I joked playfully whiles nuzzling into his nose. Kenji rolled his eyes playfully and kissed my cheek.

"See, baby. You're gonna be fine, okay? The best father ever. Look at our baby Emi. You have some daddy experience" I smiled whiles kissing his face. Kenji chuckled and returned the affection. Kenji began rambling about his excitement. I cupped his face as I listened to him.

"Bet you wanna go and tell Emi right?" I giggled whiles tilting my head with shake of my head. Kenji bit his lip in pure excitement and nodded. I pecked his lips. "Go on. Tell her I said hi, okay? Don't be too late ,okay? We have a lot to talk about"

"I won't. I love you, sweetheart" Kenji laughed and stood up as he opened the doors to the balcony before jumping out and transforming into the giant of light he was.

"I love you too, baby"

[tagidearte-spam-sb]

The Daycare Attendant and Their Dialogue

A little ramble on some of the things I've noticed about their ways of speaking. This post ended up being predominantly about how they refer to one another. Most of this is speculation mixed in with my own views on them and their relationship, without discarding some other possible alternatives (for instance, although I do view them as two AIs that heavily rely on each other to function properly, I do not cast aside the interpretation that they are the same person).

(note: although I have played SB and Ruin, I did not play HW2 myself. All I know about that game has been through let's plays).

Sun is, obviously, the chattier of the two. Not only are his sentences longer, he speaks more of them in a row than Moon does - in fact, we only see Moon going on and on in Ruin (which we will discuss later).

Both of them use a lot of repetitions when speaking. From their infamous "clean up, clean up" line, to Sun's panicked "you like glitter glue? I have glitter glue!" and "light's on! Light's on! Keep the generators on!", to Moon's "hidey hide, hide away" and "bad children must be punished. Bad children must be found", "knock knock", etc. One of the first things Eclipse says is also a repetition ("warning, warning"). They appear to occasionally rhyme their words too, or at the very least use similar sounds in their sentences. This is a robot that works with young children, so it's not surprising.

On that same vein, their main insult to misbehaving children (and employees... or at least Cassie's dad) is also a repetition: "naughty, naughty" (which turns into "naughty boy" for Gregory), "rulebreaker, rulebreaker", and "bad kid, bad kid". In fact, it appears they repeat words more often when they're mad/stressed (Sun's no no nos, Moon freaking out in Ruin). Taking into account they get mad pretty easily when things don't go their way, it's not surprising we hear it so often, but it's neat.

Although both of them speak in an almost song like manner, with Sun's run on sentences flowing well between one another, Moon is the one where this is more evident due to how much shorter his lines are.

Moon is also the one who speaks in a more childish manner. Not only are his phrases shorter, he doesn't articulate them as much as Sun does, and seems to prefer shorter words and sounds, especially giggles. This makes Sun appear more developed. Key word being appear.

Sun tends to speak as if he's entertaining a crowd, doing his best to keep the attention on himself while trying to keep it fun. This is most evident in his level explanation parts in HW2, but it's also clear in SB. In Ruin, this is absent for... obvious reasons.

Both of them are somehow direct in their way of giving orders/saying what they want to do. When they can't be direct, they find workaround truths in order to conceal what they truly want to say, while keeping the main order clear (such as Sun saying the player will hurt their eyes if they work in the dark and ordering them to keep the lights on, rather than saying Moon will kill them so keep that room bright. Direct, but nicer).

Not at all important to FNAF speech lore but I think it's funny: Sun says the infamous Vanny line during the daycare intro section. "Are you having fun yet? (Are ya, are ya?)". 0.5 seconds after Gregory just stands there, which coincidentally is what Vanny does 0.5 seconds after Gregory gets into a vent (numbers exaggerated). I don't know. I just think it's funny. Replaying the daycare section after hearing Vanny yapping that line non stop gave me flashbacks.

The way they refer to each other and the pronouns they use are an entire thing, so let me separate it in two parts.

So that this post doesn't become scrolling hell on the tags, I'll keep it below the read more line:

Sun

Sun is the one who refers to himself the most. He frequently uses "I" or "me" when talking about himself, and does it way more often than Moon. Examples of this are "I have glitter glue!", "I'm stuck in a nap", "it really speaks to me", "I feel dumber just looking at it" - you get the point by now. The reason I'm going hard on this point is to contrast his way of speaking to Moon's.

When it comes to him referring to Moon, we only ever hear it twice. In HW2 he says "He'll wake up if the lights go out!". In Ruin, he says "Not me, the other me!". Besides those two voice lines, he merely alludes to Moon without ever mentioning him by name or by pronouns (such as when he says he'll turn the lights off himself, implying he'll let Moon deal with you, or when he says you can't work in the dark and instead of saying the real reason as to why, he cuts himself and goes "You'll- hurt your eyes if you work in the dark").

This is interesting for two reasons: one, we only see him directly mention his counterpart when he's in a ruined state (the HW2 voice line comes from the mask off section, when they're broken down. At least I think so); two, he simultaneously views Moon as separate from himself ("he'll wake up") and as a part of himself/another side of himself ("the other me"). You can take that as them really being the same "person", or as a reflection of their complicated body sharing situation. Take it as you will.

As far as referring to himself and Moon at the same time, he only does it in Ruin when he states "We need to be whole".

Moon

The way Moon structures his sentences means that he seldomly actually refers to himself directly. For instance, he doesn't say "I will find you" or "I will punish you", putting himself as the subject of the sentence. Instead, he puts others as the subject, wording it as "Bad children must be found" and "Bad children must be punished". This is consistent across all of his voice lines except one... Well, technically two.

To get it out of the way: there's a deleted voice line where he says "I'm putting you in time out", a line he and Sun share and which worked the same way the clean up one does - them saying the same thing, a push towards them being the same person ordeal.

The only in-game time he refers to himself directly is in Ruin. This line is also the only time he refers to both himself and Sun as a duo. This line is also the longest line of dialogue Moon has.

"(groaning noises) Naughty! Naughty! Make it stop! The light makes us hurt! Grind Grind! Grinding gears inside my head! We can't move. Error! Error!"

This line, much like Sun's, is interesting for various reasons. Even though Sun is no longer with him (being stuck in the VR world and separate from Moon, shown by how Moon can't move because the lights are on but his body can't shift into Sun, so he's completely stuck), he first refers to himself as a "us" - adding Sun into the mix. Then he refers to himself alone, "my head" instead of "ours", before going right back to a plural.

We can assume one of three things here: one, Moon refers to himself as a we more often, adding Sun into the mix, a complete opposite of his counterpart who typically speaks in singulars; or two, Sun is not as absent as he appears and in that moment he is in fact with Moon, just stuck on the passenger sit, hurting alongside him; or three, this is merely an effect of this being in the Ruin DLC where the whole point of the daycare section is to fuse Sun and Moon into the Eclipse, so the writers decided to bring the point home further. If you have more options, feel free to add them.

Side note: This voiceline also shows Moon's speaking patterns pretty well. Putting "the light" as the subject instead of "we/I", the rhyming, the repetition, the clipped sentences compared to Sun's endless ones, the noises, the scratchiness, the vague childlike mannerism... All ending with "we can't move", way more straight to the point, said right before he freezes up, which deviates from the "other subject first then me" rule due to the pain tearing through him at the moment.

Moon does not call Sun "the other me" or anything similar in any of the games. He never refers to Sun as if he too was Sun. However, we can assume his view on their situation probably mirrors Sun's - being in the same body and all -, so take it as you will.

And as for Moon referring to Sun as a separate individual... He does not refer to him as a "he". Instead, he actually mentions his counterpart by name, saying "No more Sun". Meaning he's the only one of the the two that has canonically used his other side's name. I think it's interesting how the least chatty one is the one actually calling the other by name and not the other way around. And yes, you can say it's a way of speaking and he's referring to the concept of the sun rather than saying his name, but taking into consideration Sun never utters the word moon, I'd say it's still quite a big thing.

In my headcanon land, due to the happenings at the Pizzaplex, Sun is probably too embarrassed and mortified to even mention Moon. Moon, on the other hand, has no reason to have such troubles besides hating Sun for (in his perspective) keeping him locked in a prison of light. So for me, it makes sense we never see Sun saying Moon's name, and it makes it more impactful when he actually acknowledges Moon as the other me rather than a he.

Eclipse

I lied there's three parts.

Eclipse has very few voice lines. The only one that matters here is "We need to clean this place up before we can open in the morning." This is pretty straight to the point: Eclipse, unlike Sun and Moon, doesn't use an "I". They immediately speak in the plural. They do not view themselves as just Eclipse, but rather as both Sun and Moon combined, at the same time.

As for the DCA being two AIs or one... in Ruin, Sun thanks Cassie after Eclipse is activated. It's left ambiguous. You can say Sun speaking afterwards proves they're not one and the same, "with the Sun and Moon AIs still running separately somehow", or you can assume Eclipse existing doesn't mean Sun and Moon can't keep doing their thing under safe mode, albeit in a less chaotic manner, allowing Sun's voice to come through but not making him any less Moon - he is Moon, he is Sun, and they are complicated yet very simple.

I believe in whichever version is more convenient at any given time, with a preference for "two codependent AIs" given what the games show us. Although, going by everything I collected here, the only theory I believe to just not be supported by canon at all is the one with Eclipse as a separate thing all together. Eclipse refers to themselves as a "we', not an "I". Eclipse activates when you make Sun and Moon "whole". It canonically makes no sense for Eclipse to be a third thing. (Please remember this is a post about what's in the games, the canon of FNAF. AUs and fandom or whatever, you do you).

That's it. Hope you enjoyed my rambling. Uh artblog unpaid promotion @tagidearte thank you for making it this far.

[savvymantis]

anon who asked about the character limit, thanks for confirming! Also as of typing I realised your ask box being tilted I Need That is prolly a reference to Ratchet XD Nice one! As for my request could I ask how TFP Ratchet, Wheeljack, Bulkhead and Bee would react to their so calling them their husband?? There was this one trend going around where a spouse would be on the phone and casually refer to their partner as husband in a conversation. I just wanna see the bots flustered and confused, that's how I like my big robots

Dear Future Husband

Ratchet:

"You leave my husband alone!"

The playful scold echoes throughout Ratchet's processor, drowning out your cheers and jeers with the kids as you chase them off from his work desk. He looks at his frozen servos, then flicks his gaze towards you, watching as you pin Miko to the ground while rubbing your fist into the top of Jack's head as he cries for some uncle of his.

Husband.

Ratchet moves a servo to the computer, typing into a search engine. The results prove he's correct, a husband is a spouse, a married partner, equivalent to a conjunx, at least in the legal sense. Probably the sentimental sense too, considering how you are.

You called him your husband.

Ratchet glances back at you again, now buried beneath revenge-seeking children. He can't see your face behind Raf, who's sat on your chest, but he can hear your laughter. He smiles.

"Come on, off with you!" Ratchet shoos the kids away from you. They tumble and laugh at the gentle brush of his servos. "Don't crush my conjunx when I still need their help."

The smile you give him is dazzling, prettier than any star he's ever seen before.

Wheeljack:

"Careful, or your guard dog will come barking."

"My husband is twice the mech you could ever wish to be!"

Wheeljack knows a thing or two about humans, not really by choice, but he knows that word you said is meant to relate to him. He cradles your tiny form to his chest, blocking blasts with his back before he's transforming around you.

Breakdown isn't an opponent he wants to deal with right now, not with your life on the line.

Luckily, the Nevada landscape provides plenty of shortcuts and hideaways for him to make use of. You mercifully keep low and keep quiet, allowing Wheeljack to think a bit better about his escape routes. As much as he hates backing down from a good fight, you're a bit more important than his pride.

How will he question you if you're dead?

"All clear now, sweetspark."

You pop up into his driver's seat, grinning wide. "Have someone record it if you fight that guy. I wanna see you hand his ass to him on a silver platter."

"And I want you to tell me what a husband is."

Your smile softens. "From what I understand from Smokes, it's the equivalent to you calling me conjunx."

Wheeljack speeds off into the desert, throwing down the driver's seat so you roll into his trunk. Ah, so you actually got curious about him calling you that? Seems you both got some explaining to do.

Bulkhead:

"My husband's the strongest by far!" You brag, causing Bulkhead to pause and look at where you're stood before the kids, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen. "And you can't compare!"

"I was in the wreckers with him!" Wheeljack protests.

"Yeah, but he's still way stronger and cooler!" Miko pipes up, firmly behind you in calling him strong and cool. Bulkhead tromps over, faceplate warm, as he waves a servo around and dismisses the group bragging session. Not that is stops Jack and Raf from arguing with Smokescreen about who's the fastest of the bots.

"What's a husband?" Bulkhead asks you, once just you and Miko remain by him. Lifted onto the catwalk, Miko giggles and tries to climb up to his shoulder. He lets her.

"Someone who really loves someone else." Miko provides, tucking into the side of his helm. "Like how you love a conjunx."

"Is that the equivalent?" You ask, grinning lopsided and wide. Bulkhead feels his spark do flips when you grab one of his digits. "I love you tons, so you're my husband, my partner bonded to me in law and in spirit."

"Oh." Bulkhead lifts his other arm, scratching at his cheek. "Uh. . . Well, I love you tons too. As many tons as I can carry."

"That's a lot!" Miko chimes.

You just laugh, and Bulkhead decides to look up what husbands do, that way he can be a proper one, all for you.

Bumblebee:

"Ah, oops, hang on." You twist around, smile sheepish as you wave at Bumblebee. "What game did you want again, hon?"

Bee's wings flick upwards, and he gives you a sweet serious of noises and a point towards one of the games he already has. It answers your question nicely, even without Raf's help to translate.

"Right!" You chirp, turning back around. "My husband would like Ultra Racing Ultimate 4, please! I can pick it up in store, yes."

The conversation drizzles away as Bee's processor overcomes with static. He vaguely draws lines between dots, what husband means and what you must mean by saying it. His spark is lurching around in his chassis like it's trying to jump out to you, its true owner.

It the second it takes you to end your call, servos wrap around your waist and drag you into a teary eyed, utterly sappy Bee. He warbles his noises at you, leaning into the palms you brush over his cheeks and the kisses you press along his helm.

"I love you too, bubs." You coo, rubbing your nose to where his would be, if he had one. "Wanna scare the guy with how fast we show up to get the game?"

Bee decides he will conjunx you by the time he finishes his game.