#and now i feel alive again! instead of like a robot

[ddejavvu]

Hi, saw you said stranger things requests and I have one !! Steve and reader going to a party, and he accidentally spills his drink on her short and he panics because he thinks of what happened with Nancy and reader ends up having to comfort him with vodka all over her shirt :,) thank you

From the minute the bronze liquid comes in contact with your cream top, Steve's already reacting strangely. It's like a live wire stabbed through the base of his spine, shooting heated sparks towards his shoulders that tense.

"Hey, I- I'm sorry," He stammers, trying to set the now half-empty cup onto the counter. It doesn't work, and the cup falls to the ground, splashing this time over your feet. You take a hasty step back, and Steve's hands reach out to catch you with too strong of a grip.

"No, don't- I'm sorry," One glance into his eyes and they're alive with the same fever that's tripping up his words, "I'm sorry, don't go, please. Just- just come into the kitchen, please?"

"It's sticky here," You raise and lower your foot a few times, music not helping you assess the situation as it booms in your ears, "Steve, you're-" You grimace at the tight hold of his large hands, "You're squeezing a bit, Steve, let me go."

You try to pull away from him, but that only makes it worse. He holds tighter, pulls harder, and you have to grab his own arm to maneuver him a different way around the island.

"Okay- okay! Just- come this way, god," You hiss, "Steve, 's starting to hurt."

Then you're the only one holding up the embrace; he's dropped you like you're on fire. You don't have time to ponder why, you just keep dragging him through the sea of partygoers and into the semi-isolated kitchen.

"'Kay, can you get some paper towels?" You turn on the faucet, water running cold as you assess the damage to your shirt. When no reply comes, you turn back to Steve, finding him lingering right where you'd left him, his face pale.

"Steve? The paper towels?" You try again, to no avail.

"Steve," You shut off the faucet, feeling liquor slosh through your socks as you step over to him, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. For- ruining your shirt, and squeezing.. too tight."

"It's okay," You hum cautiously, "I can wash it. And it's not like you bruised me. Paper towels?"

"I didn't mean to." He promises, his big brown eyes still blown wide open, "I really didn't. And I can pay for the- for the shirt, like- dry cleaning. I promise. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You promise, "Steve, it's just a shirt. It's okay, I just need paper towels."

Your prolonged reassurances seem to set him straight, and he looks like a robot rebooting. His eyes flash with something unreadable and he snaps to attention, stumbling backwards and trying to maneuver the unfamiliar kitchen.

"Right. Right, uh- paper towels. They're- here!"

He brandishes the roll towards you almost aggressively, and you wet three beneath the water you've turned back on. He takes the wad from your hand before you can apply it to your stained shirt, dabbing gently at the remains of his solo cup.

"Sorry," He breathes, tongue poking out from between his lips as he focuses on rubbing the stain away.

"It's okay." You remind him, craning your neck up to kiss at his chin. He still looks pale, like he's recovering from a brush with death, but at the feeling of your lips against his chin he looks up at you, and the corners of his lips quirk up into a weak smile.

"It's- uh, not coming out." He murmurs, "I'll have it dry-cleaned, um, tomorrow, I'll take it, and-"

"Okay. We'll figure something out." You keep your voice soothing, although you don't know why you need to, "It's okay, Steve. Hey, do you wanna just go home? We could do a movie night instead - get away from the noise and the people, and I could change my clothes."

"Yeah," He flounders slightly, hand still working to scrub the alcohol off of your shirt, "Yeah, uh- where...?"

"Your place," You decide, "If you don't mind me wearing your shirt?"

His eyes shine now, and his smile seems less rickety, "Yeah. No! No- I don't mind it. My place, and- and my shirt."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi, I love your writing! Are you still taking requests? What about a villain finding out his fav hero is actually an robot?

The hero went missing briefly and in their reunion his systems start to panic, the villain attempt to help? And finds out there is grey metal under his mask? Not skin?

"Oh," the villain said, soft. "Oh, I see."

"See what?" The hero stayed turned away, head bowed, frantically trying to shield his face. "Don't look at me. Just - what are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you."

"R-rescue me?"

The villain stepped closer into the hero's cell. Heat radiated off the hero's back and, well. The villain pressed a finger to the back of the hero's neck; where the skin had burnt away, revealing the cold grey of metal and circuitry.

The hero gasped and whirled.

His face was - well, it was fried from the few short days he'd spent missing, captured. Where his enemies had tried to bruise him, bleed him, there were caved in spaces that revealed yet more metal. The hint of a perfect silver skull. Veins which throbbed with electricity instead of blood. Even one of the hero's eyes were gone, replaced by the startling blue of a machine staring back. Well, they were always blue but...so muffled, before, compared to what the villain looked at then.

The two of them stared at each other.

"You can't tell anyone," the hero said.

"I always thought you were too impossibly good to be true," the villain replied. "Too flawless."

"Don't," the hero whispered.

The villain took the hero's jaw, carefully, tenderly, in their hands. "Look what a mess they've made of you. I'll kill them for it."

The hero closed the one eye that he could. He trembled, so exquisitely life-like, so exquisitely alive, in the villain's palms.

"They must have been so angry when they found out what you were," the villain said. He let his finger stroke over the ruined curve of the hero's cheek. "I'm glad I got here before they destroyed you completely."

"Why? What are you going to do with me?"

The hero took a step back.

The villain let him go, for now, studying him with fresh eyes. More and more puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Do with you?"

"I'm not human."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm not - if people know -"

"I've never heard you talk like that before. System overload?"

The hero shook his head. Something sparked. "You're d-dodging the question."

"Well," the villain said, evenly. "I was going to take you out of here. Clean up your wounds at my place. That sort of thing. I could probably makeshift the kind of specialist support you currently need in my lab, but I imagine you have a much better set up at home. So I guess I'm taking you home. If that's okay with you."

"Home," the hero echoed. He stood frozen.

"Home."

"You're not mad? Mad? Mad?" The hero managed to jerk to a halt. He heaved a ragged, shuddering breath.

"No."

"I'm not human. You came to rescue a human. Human." The hero shoved a hand over his mouth. The tremors were more forceful than before.

If the villain touched him again, he would be fever hot, wouldn't he?

The villain shrugged.

"I don't understand," the hero said.

"Unsurprising. You're not running at full capacity right now, are you? So shall we pick this up again when you're out of here? And feeling a bit better? It would be tragic if I came all this way just for you to overheat in front of me."

The hero stared some more. The blue eye contracted and expanded, whirring noiselessly. The villain wished he knew what kind of diagnostics the hero was running. How it all worked. He wanted to know everything.

His brain, such as it was, must surely be the most gorgeous thing.

He'd always wanted to know how the hero ticked but this...oh, this. He held out a hand and smiled.

"It's a relief, actually," the villain said. "I'm not mad. Now. Let's get you back in your mask, shall we?"

By the time the repairs were done, it was impossible to tell. It was extraordinary. Giddying. A love letter to the best that people could be.

And the hero looked shattered by the truth of it.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Mutually Assured Disaster

How I imagine the first meeting from @the-b1ah  AU here. I plan to write Danny’s first patrol with Jason and maybe the training as well.

This isn’t edited so if you see any errors please let me know.

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Danny skidded around a corner, his shoulder slamming into the brick wall but there was no time to worry about that bruise and it did stop him faster. He took off again down this ally, a energy blast slammed into the wall just behind him and he gritted his teeth, flinching but not making any noise or slowing down, he needed all the air he had to run. He was already so weak from what the GIW had already done to him but this was his only chance, the transfer to their facility in Gotham. He could sense that the city was a never-born in its own way and it was closing ranks to protect him, walls shifting in perceptible ways to open up passages for him, guiding him towards something and slowing the agents down.

He was so weak and the cuffs still on his wrists stopped him from phasing through anything, all he could do was run, feeling the blood and ecto pumping through his veins quicker with each step. It stained the white pants and scrub shirt they had given him, he was getting dizzy, his quick breathing rasping over a dry throat and his legs burning but he couldn’t stop. Not when he had just now started to sense what Gotham was sending him towards.

It was a signature like his own! Another undead, someone who could help him and hopefully would. Gotham felt to warm to be sending him to someone who would hurt him or be taken too, he trusted her as one of the never-born ancients, she wanted what was best for the city that was hers. He tried to turn another corner, fell, rolled and managed to stagger back to his feet though it sapped his momentum and tore open a few more old wounds. His eyes landed on a tall, broad man wearing a red helmet that completely covered his face. That was him!

“Help me,” Danny gasped desperately, “Please.” He hadn’t even noticed there was a gun trained on him until it snapped to the opening of the ally. Danny scrambled behind the strange man, making himself small as the guys and white came sprinting around the corner as well, blasters pointed at them.

“Return the fugitive!” They demanded as Danny’s abused legs finally gave out and he sunk to his knees with a soft whine, praying that this man would be enough to keep them both safe.

“Fugitive? That’s a whole ass child, why are you chasing a child with guns?” Red Hood demanded furiously, his own guns trained on the two agents.

“They might look like a child but their an extremely dangerous meta. We know Batman doesn’t like metas in Gotham, so we’ll just take him and go.” The agent said starting to approach only for hood to fire a warning shot at his feet making the man step back.

“Fuck what batman wants, this is my territory and I don’t let anyone hurt kids. Meta or not,” He snarled.

Danny heard the sound of one of the blasters charging up and gasped, looking up frantically. “Look out,” He yelled, lunging forward just in time to accidentally take the blast to the side instead, well he had meant to push hood out of the way but this worked too he supposed. He didn’t even have enough air to scream, whining through gritted teeth as he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself and shielding his head as the air around him was filled with the sound of gun shots. It felt like forever that he lay there curled in on himself defensively as his head swam and blood and ectoplasm seeped out the new hole in his side, joining the dozens of other injuries he had.

Then it was quiet, and after another second there was a hand on his shoulder, Danny flinched violently away from the touch. “Hey kid, it’s just me,” the robotic voice assured and in that moment Danny had never found anything more comforting. He looked up and around, seeing that he and the man in the red hood were the only things left alive in that alley.

Danny gasped and nearly threw himself into the older man’s arms, he gave a startled sound but caught Danny as he trembled and clung, tears running down his cheeks as he struggled to catch his breath. “It’s alright kid, I’ve got you,” Red assured, shifting his hold on Danny so he could pick up the teenager when he stood. “Let’s get you to a hospital huh?” He asked, only for Danny to choke and frantically shake his head. “Alright, no hospital, will you let me patch you up then?” He asked, nodding firmly when Danny sniffled and nodded as well.

“Alright, I have a safe house near here,” He said, turning away from the small pile of bodies he’d left in the alley and carrying Danny towards, hopefully somewhere safe. The way that Gotham curled protectively around them seemed to say it would be. “I’m Red Hood, what’re you called kid?”

“Danny Phantom,” The kid whispered against Jason’s chest.

“That’s an odd name,” Hood said blandly and Danny might have laughed if he had the breath, if it wouldn’t have hurt to much to do so.

“So is Red Hood. I had another name, but I can’t use it anymore,” he murmured brokenly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, and only received a little shrug in return. “Alright fair enough,” Jason said with a shrug, shifting to hold Danny with one arm so he could jump up and drag down the fire escape, climbing up so he could duck through the window of one of his many apartments scattered through his territory.

He carried Danny through into the bathroom, putting him down on the edge of the tub carefully before flipping on the light. “You up to having a shower before I look after your wounds, just to rinse off the blood? I’ll grab you some clean clothes, my little brother left some stuff here that should fit you.”

“Sure,” Danny agreed softly. “It’s not as bad as it looks, I’m pretty damn tough. But, before that could you.. try and take these off please?” He asked, holding out his arms to show Hood the cuffs still around his wrists, the suppressors. There had been a chain between them but it was broken, he’d managed to snap it during the chase.

“You’re not going to cause any problems for me or my city are you? I know suppressors when I see them,” Jason asked, low and dangerous. Danny’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously, slowly pulling his arms back and hugging himself.

“No, I know what they said, but I’m not actually dangerous I promise. I mean I probably could be dangerous if I wanted to be, but I don’t, I’ve only ever wanted to protect people but they-, they just didn’t see that.”

Shit the kid was crying again, Jason hadn’t meant to do that, but he had needed to know and Danny’s answer was obviously true, kid wore his heart on his sleeve. Jason sighed and dug in his pocket for his lockpicks before holding out his hand for Danny’s. “Alright, I believe you, let me get those off for you,” He agreed.

Danny reluctantly let Jason take one of his wrists, watching as Jason struggled a little with the cuff, muttering a little about paranoid people. The second one was faster, Danny rubbed his wrist and murmured thanks. “No worries,” Jason said as he stood. “Now you shower, I’m going to grab you some clean clothes.

Danny watched Hood leave, taking the cuffs with him before quickly stripping off the bloody clothes and getting into the shower. He flushed out the worst wounds before icing them over and scrubbing the blood and filth off of him from weeks of imprisonment. Jason knocked to make sure he was alright a couple of times before Danny finished and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and sitting back down on the edge of the tub. “Alright, you can come in. You don’t have to worry about the cuts really though, I’ll heal.”

Jason let himself in, pausing for a moment when he saw the ice, or maybe the extent of Danny’s wounds which were… well they were pretty damn bad. At least they hadn’t gotten around to fully vivisecting him yet. “Whether you’ll heal or not you’ll heal faster and with less scarring with some proper stitches. Can you melt the ice as well?” Hood asked and Danny nodded. “Good, you can melt it as we deal with them then. Do you want a painkiller first?”

“No point, they don’t work properly on me,” Danny said with a shrug making Jason wince.

“That must suck,” He sympathized as he got out the first aid kit and set up what he’d need to clean and suture the wounds. Danny shrugged again, he didn’t seem talkative but he was very cooperative as Jason asked him to melt the ice on various wounds to let him check them.

“So did those guys do all this to you?” Jason asked and Danny blinked at him.

“You don’t know about them?” He asked, already knowing the answer when Red hood gave him a pointed look Danny could sense even through that helmet.

“Nooo,” he drawled, “Should I?”

“They’re a government agency called the Ghost Investigation Ward,” Danny told him softly. Jason snorted only to realize Danny was completely serious. “They’ve been hunting anything with a high enough ecto-signiture for years, so you need to be careful Red. Gotham is hiding you, but especially after they see how they helped me they’ll be after you too.”

“Ecto-signiture?” Jason asked blankly, what the Fuck was that?

“Anything like us. People who died, and didn’t come back, or came back wrong,” Danny explained and Jason let out a soft startled sound.

“How the fuck did you know that?!” he asked, defensive on instinct, only calming down a little when Danny lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture.

“Like often recognizes like,” Danny said with a little shrug again.

“Fine,” Jason grumbled, letting it go for now rather then thinking anymore about his own death, or Danny’s for that matter, the kid didn’t look any older then Jason had been when he had died, younger maybe. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Danny said, sounding relieved. Grabbing the clothes that Jason had brought for him since they were done looking after his wounds now. “Those idiots wouldn’t believe I actually needed to eat no matter how many times I told them I did. They just punished me for pretending to be human,” Danny said making Jason freeze as rage flared inside him, breathing through the green flickering on the edges of his vision as he thought about how Danny had been treated. “Hood,” Danny said softly, and Jason felt a hand on the vigilantes arm.

Danny started to hum, an odd purring sound that didn’t sound particularly human, and to Jason’s surprise after a moment something within Jason started to resonate to the sound. Jason calmed quickly as the place reverberating inside him sent waves of calm the way the pit usually radiated rage. “Okay now?” Danny asked with a smile and Jason nodded, blinking out of the slight daze before he cleared his throat and turned away abruptly, heading to the kitchen to start cooking, Danny following him like a silent shadow, his feet not making any sound on the floor.

“You just lay down on the couch and rest, any allergies?” Jason glanced over and Danny shook his head, Jason nodded, made a choice and took off his helmet, glad he’d warn a mask under it tonight. He wouldn’t exactly be able to taste the food or eat with the mask on after all, and he had a feeling that he was going to be spending more time with Danny, at least until he was healed.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” He asked, just to confirm his thoughts. He decided to make omelettes since they were quick and it was fun to have breakfast for dinner sometimes.

“No, my sister doesn’t have a place of her own, and my parents would either sell me back to the GIW or dissect me themselves. I can look after myself though, now that you’ve got the cuffs off and the GIW off my tail I can avoid them from here. Something to eat and a little sleep and  I can be gone by morning,” he said with a determined set to his jaw.

“Absolutely not!” Jason said, pointing the spatula at Danny and lowering it quickly when the boy flinched. “I’m not leaving a kid alone on the streets, let along one who’s not from Gotham! You’ll stay with me till we find you somewhere else safe to go,” Jason said firmly and Danny hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Okay, but once I’m healed I can help! You’re one of Gotham’s vigilantes right? I’ll fight with you.”

“Also no, I’m a vigilante but I’m no Batman, I don’t do kid-heroes, you’re to young for this life,” Hood insisted, flipping the eggs.

“You’re about two years to late for that,” Danny snorted and Jason nearly dropped the food, cursing softly when he messed up the omelette. Oh well it would still taste good it just looked a bit more ugly.

“Excuse me? How old are you?”

“I’ll be 16 in a bit more then a month,” Danny said sounding sulky. “And I’m not going to stop helping people no matter what you think. I have these powers, I want to use it for something good.”

“You’ve been acting as a hero on your own since 14!?” Jason demanded, and the look of shame on Danny’s face was all the answer Jason needed. “Fine, you can come with me. But you have to hang back, stay safe, and fucking listen to me. Got it? I’m not having your death on my conscious!” Jason insisted and tried not to be pleased by how Danny immediately brightened and grinned at him.

“Thank you! It’s going to be so nice not to have to do all this alone! To have a proper mentor, maybe?” He asked, getting softer and more uncertain at the end.

“Sure, sure. The bats are gonna have a heart attack when they find out. They’re probably going to try to steal you,” Jason joked and Danny snorted.

“I don’t want that, they’re too goody goody for me thanks. Besides, you’re like me and I was able to calm you down wasn’t I? I can help you more,” Danny said, and Jason decided not to suggest Danny might be better off with the bats. Maybe it was selfish, but he did want the help Danny offered, and he was already attached to the kid.

“Fine, but you’re not going anywhere until you’re completely healed, and you’ve showed me what you can do. We’ll practice together and once I think we’re a good enough team then you can come out with me. And I want to know everything you know about the GIW and whatever laws enable them to get away with this bullshit, because we’re going to have to do something about that too.”

“Of course!” Danny agreed and Jason could see him practically vibrating with excitement, he had to suppress a smile so Danny wouldn’t catch on to how cute Jason found that. He really shouldn’t, but it was to late now.

“Good. Now come eat,” Jason grumbled, transferring the first omelet onto a plate and handing it to Danny.

Part 2: here

[homeofthelonelywriter]

K.I.A. | Oneshot

(A/N) This one could really hit hard. Please take care of yourself.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: lots of angst, death of a loved one, depression, grief, alcohol, comfort in the end

Synopsis: I don't think there is a need for a synopsis. The title says it all.

It was supposed to be fine.

It was supposed to be safe.

“It’s going to be a quick and easy mission, love. I’ll be back in no time.”

That’s what he had said.

That’s what he had promised.

But he lied.

The mission wasn’t quick. It wasn’t easy. He wouldn’t be back in no time.

He was dead.

Killed in action, an honorable death.

To hell with them. To hell with their honorable death. Death isn’t honorable, death is death. And now he’s gone. And I’ll never see him again.

It’s his funeral and I can’t even look at them. The ones that survived. Price, Soap, Gaz. They all came back but he didn’t. He didn’t and he never will.

They hand me a flag, folded into a triangle. If I could, I would throw it at their heads. If I could, I would yell at them. If I could, I would I hit them. But I can’t. I can’t do anything, but stand there, hold that stupid flag and cry while they fire off their shots. I can’t do anything.

Well, I can do something. I can lie in bed. I can cry, a lot. I can ignore my hunger until I almost throw up. I can see his shadow, trick myself into thinking that he’s back. That he’s alive.

And I can think of him. Of all the good memories. How we met. The first time we kissed. How he asked me out. Our first date. The birthday he gave me the puppy.

The puppy…at the though of Riley, I sit up. At least until I realise that my mom took her after the funeral. She was safe, cared for. I was alone. So fucking alone.

I don’t know how much time passed, a week? Maybe a month. Perhaps even two.

I finally get up and take a shower. I smell after all.

The shower feels incredibly small without Simon behind me.

And that’s how I start crying again. I sit under the stream for what feels like hours before I finally find the strength to get out and dry off my body before falling back onto my bed.

But now it’s getting better.

I take showers from time to time.

Sometimes I even eat some food. I don’t cook anything, everything I’ve had, had spoiled by now, but I just order in.

It’s been four months since Price stood at my door and told me he was dead. That Simon would never come back. And I’ve finally found a way to dull the pain.

Alcohol isn’t the answer, of course. But for now it’s the only thing that is making me feel even slightly alive.

I spent most my day at the bar nearby, what else am I supposed to do?

Home makes me think about Simon.

Work makes me think about Simon.

Hanging out with my family or friends make me think of Simon.

We had never gone to this bar together, so I’m safe here. And the alcohol drowns out my thoughts of him. Well, most of them anyway. At least it leaves enough sense to find my way back home.

It’s become some sort of ritual. Get out of bed, get dressed, go to the bar, get shitfaced and go back home.

Today isn’t any different. Why should it be? But why…does it feel different.

I usually spend multiple hours there, but today I just want to get back home. After I pay for the drink I actually had, I make my way home. But I feel watched, the whole way back. At least I’ll feel better as soon as I’m in bed.

I unlock the front door and walk inside, not paying any mind to the big shadow standing in the hallway, or to how similar it looks to Simon. Instead, I lock the door behind me and shrug off the jacket I’m wearing, hanging it up.

I walk past the shadow and to the staircase leading up and to the bedroom I share…shared with Simon. But something stops me. One word.

“Love?”

I freeze not moving a single muscle. It can’t be him. But it sounds like him. But he’s dead. But it looks like him.

Stiff, almost like a robot, I turn around and look at the shadow. And I see Simon.

“You’re not real.”

I shake my head and start walking up the stairs.

“Love, it’s me. I’m sorry, I-”

I cut him off as I spin around and slap him across the face. That used to get rid of the hallucinations, but…he’s still here. His head whips to the right from the impact, but he doesn’t move.

“Simon…”

He looks at me. He is here. So I touch him.

I place my hands against his chest, against his beating heart.

And it is beating. He is alive. He is here.

I move my hands to his shoulder. They are as broad and hard as I remember.

I move them to his neck, feel his pulse. He is here. He is alive.

“Simon.”

I only realise that I’m crying when Simon lifts his hands and carefully wipes them away.

“Simon.”

A sob wracks through me and I let him wrap his arms around me.

Another sob and I let him pull me closer.

My body shakes as he holds it to his.

His body. Firm and warm. Hard, covered in muscles.

He is here. He is alive.

“You were dead.”

He tightens his hold on me.

“I know, love. I know.”

I claw at his jacket, trying to get him closer.

“I cried for you.”

Again, his hold tightens.

“I know. I wish I could’ve done something. All I could do was watch.”

I continue to cry and sob in his arms.

At some point, Simon picks me up and carries me upstairs. But not to the bed. To the bathroom.

Carefully, he sets me down on the edge of the bathtub before he turns on the shower. With hands, as gentle as I remember them, he undresses me, before he undresses himself.

He navigates me into the shower, before he carefully washes me. All the while, holding me close and consoling me whenever I have another break down.

And then, he leaves me there. He leaves the water on and it feels like he’s gone again. Maybe I just imagined him. Him being here. Him consoling me. Him taking care of me.

But I didn’t.

He joins me in the shower again after ten minutes.

“I just changed the sheets real quick. Let’s get you out of here, princess.”

Once again he picks me up and carries me to the edge of the bathtub. He had placed a towel there, so I don’t feel the cold of the metal when he sets me down.

Carefully, as if I were made out of porcelain he dried my body before he pulled one of his old t-shirts over my head. Once he is dry as well, he carries me into the bedroom and places me on the bed, before he gently tugs me in.

“I’ll be right back, my love. I’ll just get you a glass of water.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and is about to walk away when I catch his wrist.

“Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

He turns to look at me and opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“Simon, please. I…I can’t loose you again.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks again. And this is what he needed.

He nods and climbs into bed beside me, immediately pulling me close against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I’ll never leave you again. I promise. Never again.”

I nod but continue to sob into his chest. And this is how I fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning, alone in bed.

“Simon? Simon!”

Without thinking, I try to rush to the door, but my feet get tangled in the sheets. I fall to the floor, but get up immediately.

Please let him be there. Please let him be alive. Please.

Please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple-

“Love? Are you alright?”

He is here. He is alive.

“You…you are here. You are alive.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist. His arms immediately wrap around me and support my weight completely.

“Ssh, it’s okay my love. I’m here. I promise you I’m here.”

Like a baby, he started to gently bounce me up and down until I slowly started to calm down. Now I know why that works on babies.

For the rest of the morning, I stay there, wrapped securely in his arms, while he cooks pancakes and cleans the dishes. I even eat in his arms.

And even after that, I’m hesitant to leave them. But I do. I let him set me down on the couch and watch him as he flies through the house and cleaned the messes that had accumulated since his ‘death’.

His ‘death’.

“Why?”

Simon stops in his tracks and turns to look at me.

“Why what, my love?”

I sigh, already feeling bad about asking this question. But I need to know.

“Why did you fake your death? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Now Simon sighs. He puts away the broom and sits down next to me.

“There was a mole in the 141 and we had to flush them out. This was the only way we could think of. I’m so so sorry love. I promise, I tried my best to get them to change their mind. Or to at least let me tell you, but the mole…he had to buy it and…”

“They were afraid I wouldn’t fake it well enough.”

Simon nods, sadness clear in his eyes.

I nod. And I can’t say that I don’t understand. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating him. I just never thought it would go that far.

“Si…please never do that again.”

He shakes his head and picks me up, putting me down on his lap.

“Never, princess. I’ll never leave you again. I swear on my grave.”

At that statement I pull back slightly and look at him. His lips were pulled into a slight smile. And then I start laughing.

“You are such an idiot.”

Simon chuckles and nods before pulling me back onto his chest.

“I’m sorry, love. I just couldn’t help myself.”

I shake my head and cuddle into him and I know this is going to be alright. We are going to be alright.

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

♠️ "Scars don't make you a monster." ♠️

A/N: So, someone gave me this request via direct message and what should I say? I really do like this idea and I'm pretty happy about the fact that I can wrote about it! 🫶🏻

Characters: Niragi

POV: fem!reader ; Fluff

Warnings: Not given.

It's in the middle of the night. I have never been the person who has problems sleeping through the night. Even the biggest noises couldn't stop me from slumbering soundly. In summer, I can leave the windows open and listen to the buzzing and singing of the insects without a care in the world until I drift off into dreamland. Wind and weather don't stop me either. You could say that my body is able to adapt to all the conditions of my environment. So ... even now, when I realize in my sleep that something - more someone - is missing next to me.

I've noticed it all along. Even when I met Niragi again, I had the feeling that he had changed. Not in terms of his appearance- at least that was never the deciding factor for me. Admittedly, when I saw him again for the first time after the witch hunt, I was ... shocked. Because of several aspects. His scars - his burnt skin - was one thing, but seeing him again when I once thought he ... would no longer be with us, that was the crux of my reaction. That I drew in a startled breath. That I looked at him in shock and, of course, in tears, which I had swallowed at that moment. I was ... simply happy. To see that he was still alive.

Anyway, this is the first time I've had to open my eyes in the middle of the night because my body couldn't adapt to my surroundings during sleep. As soon as I went to bed, I had a feeling that something was wrong with Niragi. And it looks like I'm about to find out whether my gut feeling was right or not. Deep down, I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from him. I want him to tell me what's going on in his head right now. How he feels. What is bothering him. If something is bothering him.

Looking thoughtfully at my partner's side of the bed, I gradually start to move, hoping it won't take me long to find him. So, sighing and wearily brushing my hair out of my face, I get up and put one foot in front of the other to look for Niragi, who apparently hasn't even bothered to really hide.

"Niragi, what's wrong?" I rub one of my eyes sleepily and look just as sleepily at the boy standing on the balcony of the building where we've set up camp today. "Come back to bed, it's still pitch dark."

"I can sleep when I'm dead." It's not that I wouldn't expect him to say something like that- but what worries me is the way he says it.

Instead of saying anything, however, I just stand still for a moment and stare over at him. He doesn't even dare to turn towards me when we talk. I don't know him like this at all.

"I'm worried about you," you say in a calm tone as you walk towards him, aiming to stand next to him so you can look over the rooftops of the city with him. "Somehow I don't recognize you anymore," you continue, "where's the Niragi I met at the beach? The one with the big mouth and the high self-confidence, with the will of a leader?" Silence.

A moment later, all I hear is a hysterical giggle, which was obviously not the result of amusement or mirth. No, it sounded ... forced ... and hurt at the same time.

"He's been burned." Such a simple answer, but one with such great significance. "You should really go back to bed now."

"I'm not going anywhere." Determined, I now walk the last few meters towards him, after which I stand next to him. "Not without you." Unlike what I had planned, however, I don't stand so that I can see the loss, dark surroundings, but so that I am facing Niragi directly. "I knew something was wrong with you. I could tell by looking at you. Even yesterday, when you wished me a good night, your eyes betrayed you- so please don't pretend you don't care." Pause. "You are a human being. Not a robot."

"I'm a monster, Y/N!", he yelled at me and I jumped back a little because he turned around so suddenly and unexpectedly to finally look me in the face. "I can't even understand how you could even look at me on the street without throwing up right at my feet!" But just as quickly as he hit the ceiling, he quickly calmed down again.

I am sad. Is that really what he thinks? Does he really see himself as he has just described? As a monster? Oh, I'd love to ask what makes him think that, but I won't. I know the reason. His burns. The scars Chishiya left on him are the reason he speaks so poorly of himself. And it hurts. It hurts to know that a person in whom you see everything wonderful and whom you love for who he is, thinks of himself like that.

"Oh, darlin', that's not true ..." I realize how pitiful I'm looking at him right now, the softer his features become and the more he shows his mental pain to the outside world. "Please, don't say that ... Scars don't make you a monster."

"Just tell me how you can look at me like that without being afraid of me. How you ... how you can hold me in your arms without being disgusted by my skin. Without worrying about hurting me or feeling the need to puke your soul o-" I don't want to hear about that.

I understood the question. He wants answers? He'll get them. My way. The way in which I don't let him speak, but simply put one of my arms loosely around his neck to pull him into a loving kiss that for just a moment - a brief moment - is supposed to make the world stop for him.

Something that seems to work well. At least he abruptly matches my rhythm and wraps his arms around my waist to press me closer to him. To be able to feel me even better. To feel that he is not alone. Will not be alone. And to feel that there is someone who can be there for him and wants to be there.

I ... have to admit that no kiss with him was as beautiful as this one. Niragi is a rough person. He gets what he wants, his kisses were molded to his personality. Ungentle. Lots of tongue and especially biting. All the more reason for me to enjoy the kiss we're sharing right now, because who knows if I will ever experience this again.

Nevertheless, you should stop where it gets most beautiful. Although the really nice part - for him - is probably only now. One answer. An answer that will answer all his questions in one fell swoop.

"I love you," I breathe to him, tilting my head a little to the side as I look up at him and into his eyes. "That's why I can do all this, Niragi, it ... It's not as complicated and complex as you might have thought." I gave him a little smile and I can see it in his face- he's smiling a little, too. "And now come back to bed. You need to rest a bit and give your injuries a treatment. And by the way ... I'm tired and want to go back to sleep." Laughter, which only comes from me, but that's okay- his smile is enough for me. "Plus, I'm in desperate need of a good cuddle from you right now." Now, I can hear him chuckle a little and damn, it's the most beautiful I could ever hear coming out from him.

After another peck on the lips from him, I take him by the hand and walk him back into the building, where a place to sleep is waiting for us. In passing, I hear him say "I don't deserve you ...", which was probably only meant for him. But ...

"If everyone only got what they deserved, they couldn't possibly be happy in their lives, don't you think?"

A/N: Damn, I enjoyed writing this so much. Thanks for you request, stygianoir! Hope you enjoyed reading it as well. 🙈♥️

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Why?

Requested: No

Warnings: Light angst, Robot!Reader

A/N: Wow, two preferences in one day? What the hell was in my chocolate this morning?

You couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t….couldn’t understand it. Comprehend it. Accept it. That this person, this living breathing human being, was really treating you like this. That they seemed to….value you in some way. At first you had thought of it as a joke, a cruel one that they shared amongst themselves. Tease the bot, remind them of their place. It was a game you were all too familiar with, and always ended up with a pain in your chest, right where a beating heart would be for a human being. But this person….they were so nice. So genuine in their actions, so unlike all the others you had met over the years. And they had taken care of you, patched you up and repaired you, given you a purpose in this life after you had been tossed aside like common trash, left to rust and deteriorate in a scrap pile, barely clinging to that last bit of battery life, to consciousness. You remembered exactly what you thought of before the lights inside you dimmed.

I don’t want to die.

And you hadn’t. Something that had been quite a shock to you when you woke up in a dark room. The rust scrubbed from your plates, your gears and joints oiled, your battery in the middle of a long recharge. By a cable no less! You couldn’t remember the last time you had been charged by one of those instead of the wireless charging that had become common over the years.

You were alive. You had been given a second chance. And you were determined not to waste it. But that doubt lingered in you, festered like infection in an open wound. And one day, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question that plagued you since the day you woke up in their home.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Treating me like a person.”

Price

Price hummed softly, the question not entirely unexpected. It’s likely that he was already questioning that himself for some time now. Ever since he brought you into his home, started fixing you up, growing so attached to you so quickly. Sitting by your bed as he waited for your servers to turn on, replacing your batteries so many times he lost count. So gentle whenever he had to open you up to fix something. Even giving you your own room, and a bed to lay on. And complete and utter freedom to do…whatever you wanted. Sure he’d always been a bit kinder to bots everywhere, some part of him unable to separate their human faces from their mechanical insides, but with you it was like it was dialed up to a thousand. He looked at you, and he couldn’t see anything but a living breathing person.

“....Dunno, Love.” He’d say, tilting his head as he met your eyes. The clear crystal blue soft and shimmering under the moonlight that shone in through the kitchen window. “You want me to stop?” He asked, seeming pleased when you shook your head. “Good. That’s all that matters then.”

Gaz

“You get bonked on the head again, Love?” Gaz would ask in return, arching his brow at you before bending over to pick up a box left at the front door. A new cooling fan for you, since yours was starting to malfunction. “That’s about the dumbest question I've ever heard. You’re a person. Course i treat you like people.” He says, cutting open the box before pulling out the small fan. “Don’t matter that you need things like this. That your insides are different then mine. You’re a person all the same. And I'd bet my last pound that, if such a thing as souls exist, you got one just like me. One much shinier and brighter, all good and perfect. I just know it.” He tells you, a bright sunshine-like smile crossing his face, and you could feel your broken whirring to life as your circuits malfunctioned and started to burn molten hot, heating up your whole body until your systems had to do a mandatory shut down just to avoid melting anything. Leaving Gaz to panic and damn near tear the house to pieces looking for the tools to open you up and replace that damn fan.

Ghost

A slow blink, a tilt of the head. Cold eyes raking over you in thought. Thinking through every word meticulously, making sure nothing left his mouth until he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you. It took a few minutes, anxiety inducing silence that would have you sweating if you were capable of such a thing. Until finally, blessed finally, he graced you with a soft response.

“You are a person.” He whispered, so soft that you almost didn't hear him. He repeated it, a bit louder when you tilted your head in confusion. “You are a person. To me at least. Maybe not to all those bellends outside, but to me. I’ve seen you laugh, get upset, excited, curious. I’ve never met someone who has so much personality to them before. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, because they don’t know you like I do. They haven’t seen every beautiful part of you that you try to hide behind a disguise of being just a bot. I know. And I’ll make sure that you know it soon enough to, so you don’t ever ask any daft questions like that ever again.”

Soap

“Watcha mean, Love?” Soap will ask, head tilted in utter confusion. Like you just asked him something in gibberish, brows scrunched together and mouth twisted in a little pout. “Tha’s a dumb question. You are a person. Course I treat you like one.” He says, shrugging his shoulders before turning back to your dismantled arm piece, adjusting some of the little screws and oiling the gears. It was almost funny how he could say that so casually, as if he wasn’t fixing your mechanics right this instant, his fingers tenderly stroking over metal and silicon, like he was scared he might hurt you if he pressed too hard. You didn’t even get the chance to protest his statement before he was opening his mouth again, effectively cutting you off. “I dinnae wanna hear anymore ah that talk, Lovey. You’re a person, my person. Simple as that.” He says, turning to give you a soft smile, hand reaching out to touch your cheek. His hands calloused and rough, but oh so warm. You could feel your motors backfiring, sensors heating up beneath his touch. And that grin on his face took a mischievous turn when he noticed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Glad we had that chat then, Love.”

[mikaikaika]

I've been thinking of a theory which the more I think about it seems extremely plausible. What if the reason qTubbo is behaving like this is cause it's not him - what if the data we found was technically not qTubbo's but instead Creation's.

What if Creation was created by Tubbo to protect eggs but then was manipulated by the Feds for their own doings. So eventually Tubbo hid the data containing majority of Creation's programming away and that was the reason he got Iced and memory reset until Feds could figure out how to make Tubbo do their bidding again.

So this data is not actually Tubbo's but instead OG Creation's and now the Creation Fed wanted is back and alive just in Tubbo's body where Creation's data has been mixed with Tubbo's memories. That's why the first time they sent creation when Tubbo was supposed to be away on a date with Fred.

Further hints, QTubbo felt like he was trying out loud how to say Phil's name for the first time (maybe cause Creation is used to saying Guardian), forgetting little things like waypoints/having a backpack, calling Chayanne the GOAT but then said second goat you know like Rank 2, staring at birds much like Creation did. His purpose is still the eggs and that's why he asked the "rankings" of the parents. Saying how he feels he feels like hasn't "done anything for decades"

The statement "I thought before I was on autopilot but now I'm the computer controlling the autopilot" which would actually fit how Creation was a robot being controlled by his engineering and programming but now he actually has free will. His comment about "newfound morality" would explain why his emotions are so volatile because he isn't used to having them.

And lastly it would make sense for why the stream was called transfer complete :D

[carf-writes]

“Robin, don’t,” he growled, digging his heels in on the linoleum floor. 

The rubber soles of his boots squeaked and his chair stopped moving. He dug them in harder, comically stomping his feet to drag himself forward. Damian was fighting him but luckily he had well over a hundred pounds on the kid.

“I have more room,” Damian grunted. 

“I don’t care.” The neck brace was digging into his exposed chin even beneath the duct tape preventing him from turning his head. He wiggled his fingers, trying to get circulation back into them with the ropes tied so tightly.

The drill whirred, inching ever closer, aimed at the center of his forehead.

“When I let you move the chairs, I hoped you would try to sacrifice the other to save yourselves,” a woman’s voice said over the speakers. She sounded like she was pouting. “Not fight over who gets to kill themselves first. It’s a few seconds difference anyway. You’re both dying.”

“Fuck you,” Damian snapped, sinking into a stream of elaborate curses in Arabic, most of which where anatomically impossible.

Dick grimaced as he dislocated his thumb. If he could just get Damian’s hands free…

The drill was getting closer, held by a robotic arm stolen from the Wayne Enterprises factory. The drill came from there too, designed for boring holes through titanium alloy. He suspected the sliding rail their chairs were mounted on back to back was also a Wayne souvenir. 

With Damian distracted, though still struggling against his own binds, Dick was able to drag himself forward again. Until the drill bit hovered millimeters above the cowl. He hoped the reinforced kevlar would spare him a few seconds. 

And he suspected that he would still be able to detangle the knots until the drill had fully penetrated his brain. Not a pleasant thought but a necessary one if he was going to get Damian out alive.

“Damn you to hell,” Damian snarled and something about his tone told Dick he wasn’t talking to their captor anymore. “I’m supposed to get Batman home.”

“It’s alright, Robin, there will always be a Batman.”

Dick was close now even as the drill touched the surface of the cowl, sending a painful vibration through his skull. Just a prelude to the main event.

“That’s the problem,” the woman calling herself The Hole in Things said . “No one needed Batman in the first place. Let alone hundreds of him. Doesn’t that make you feel awful, being expendable like this? That oh-so benevolent Bruce Wayne can’t be bothered to rescue you?”

“Actually,” Dick said with a smile as he felt the rope around Damian’s wrists snap. “Expendable is just fine with me.”

Damian rolled out of the chair, ducking under the drill aimed at his head.

The Hole in Things yelped. There was a clatter and the speaker went dead. She was running. Damian would have to give chase.

A birdarang snapped the drill bit above Dick’s head in half. Another fouled up the works. The drill sputtered and sparked, a trail of black smoke rising as it ground to a halt.

A moment later, Damian was at his side, shoving the apparatus aside, cutting Dick loose and dragging him from the chair.

They collapsed onto the floor. All of Dick’s weight fell on top of Damian. He grunted as the air was knocked out of him.

His whole body still ached from the beating a baker’s dozen of fanatical goons had given him that morning and the paralytic poison he’d been stabbed with to get him into position for that death trap. He groaned, trying to push himself off the boy.

Damian grabbed his head instead. “You’re bleeding.”

Dick pushed his hands aside, flopping onto his back. The ceiling was spinning. He snapped his thumbs back into place with a grunt.

“Just a scratch,” he muttered.

Damian’s face swam into his vision. His mouth was twisted into a tense frown.

“You had brain surgery a month ago. I was told the surgeon was the best in the world but now I have serious doubts.”

“Is this your way of calling me an idiot?”

“This is my way of saying I didn’t think you used to be so imbecilic.”

“You let her get away.”

“I saved your life, you ungrateful rube.”

Dick laughed and leveraged himself to his feet. He had to hold onto the wall to keep steady. He noticed that Damian was still not chasing their would-be murderer. Instead he was looking at Dick with something like concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Maybe Damian was more injured than he looked.

Damian’s face went red all the way up to his forehead when he was angry, just like his father.

“You said you were expendable,” he snapped.

“Yeah, that’s the idea of Batman International. No more one Batman to handle everything. I’ve got Gotham for now but I’m sure a certain Black Bat wouldn’t mind filling in.” Dick shrugged. “Actually, I think she’d probably do a much better job.” She wouldn’t have stumbled into that ambush, for starters.

Damian grabbed his arm. “We’re returning to HQ. You have sustained a serious brain injury.”

Dick touched the point on his forehead where the drill had bitten in. There was a small circular hole now in the cowl and when he looked down at his glove it was spotted with blood.

“I wouldn’t call it serious. My skull’s still more or less intact,” he joked.

Damian just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance. “Tt.” He tugged on Dick’s arm. “Come.”

They really should be going after the woman who tried to murder them and clearly had it out for Bruce but if Damian wanted to go home, Dick wasn’t going to oppose. That must have been a harrowing experience for the kid and he was so reluctant to show vulnerability, Dick had no choice but to encourage it.

[genji-centric]

Hii! I really like your work:) Hope you’re doing well! I’ve never requested anything from anyone on tumblr lol

Could you write reader(f) and Genji(Blackwatch or Post-blackwatch!) hanging with friends somewhere like at a party/gathering/bar and someone is clearly flirting with the reader but they’re clueless and Genji gets jealous and possessive? You can add if he interjects slightly or not, just want the ending to be nsfw 👀💦!

Ahh, I feel embarrassed 💀

Omg tsym!! And don't be!! You're asking this blog, yk.. the one created by pure lust for a fictional character so shhh. Never be ashamed of requests, I have the anon option for a reason ^^ I've chosen Blackwatch Genji because he is so much fun to write and absolutely strikes me as the type to be jealous. And sorry this took so long!! Enjoy ^^

Genji was always doing his job, whatever Reyes told him to do it was done. Overwatch was the reason he was alive, so it was his only motive in his new robotic life. His days were cold, devoid of the relaxed afternoons out in the sun. Instead of laying down in the gardens of the Shimada estate Genji would now be in medical office, or a back alley taking out a target. He never had that warmth again, even most of his body could never truly feel warm.

And yet somehow, Genji found someone. It felt like decades since he last felt the embrace of a woman, being looked at with such love regardless of how monstrous he saw himself. Which is why once he got a taste, he would never, never in a million years, let someone look at you the same way he got to.

You were everything. He finally felt alive, not just a being who was supposed to return the favor for living. You understood him. You were like a drug, a feeling of pure euphoria he never felt. Everything before Overwatch felt distant, blurry, and plagued by hatred of the one person he saw to be a friend let alone brother. Nobody could take that feeling or normalcy away from him, no man was deserving of you. You chose him, he was the only person to see you in such a way.

Genji grew to be both needy and lovesick for you, not that he didn't know it was wrong.. but after so long without love a man can change.

He was far different from the man he once was, Genji Shimada was popular with women. His spare time having a group of girls wanting a piece of the rich bad boy persona he had. Genji never really understood that feeling of jealousy the women around him had towards eachother. He'd always laugh at them, lighthearted of course but he didn't understand why. Not like he was fighting for attention, girls were easy. At least back then.

Which is why he glared daggers at the man who was sitting in his seat at the bar. Reyes had given him the night off, a rare luxury and you two decided to go on a little out of hour work function at some higher end bar. Overwatch didn't make them official but many people and their close loved ones were.

And Genji was well aware of the bastard cowboy in his spot. Cole Cassidy was the face he had to see countless times, never taking missions seriously and a real lack of care that just ticked him off in every conceivable way. Maybe that's how people thought of him before, but Cole just ticked him off more then he usually did.

Your smile was the only thing to keep that blood in the countless tubes of his body flowing. And that wasn't directed at him, no. The way you looked at Cole.. Genji hated it. He felt his arm shift, but he didn't retrieve the built in shurikens like he oh so wanted, as much as he wanted to pounce at the cowboy he knew better.

Genji knew one dumb action was enough to get him in hot waters, either with Reyes or the doctor responsible for his very life at the other table. Instead he just stepped over to you both, he was seething with anger. Cole had his back to the cyborg but you could see the slight bit of Genji's face he made visible. And you knew when he was angry.

"Cole. Move."

Was all the man said, cold and robotic. When he was pissed, the vocal box he had installed never failed to put people around him tense when he wanted them to be. Yet Cole just turned his head slightly, giving a casual shake of his head.

"What? Can't a man just have a little chat with a fine young lady?"

"Not with, Y/N. Now move."

In all honesty, you didn't see him in that way. Genji was all you needed, yet here you were not even aware of Cassidy trying to replace that. You were angry too, hell, Genji definitely made you two official and yet here was some rugged gunslinger not even making his flirting obvious. You definitely didn't mean to encourage it, just being polite and here Genji was seeing the worst.

Cole seemed peeved, but suprisningly got up with out a fight. Perhaps working with Genji gave him more insight to know when he should pick his battles, this moment definitely not being one of them. As you expected Genji to sit down he didn't, still standing behind the now empty chair. Odd, as you opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

"We're going back home."

You thought about arguing, but that was clearly not the right thing to do. The ride home was quiet, and Genji still seemed ready to pounce at anyone who looked at you. If it wasn't Cole flirting you know anyone else would have to go to a hospital, not a single doubt there.

Stepping back into your shared apartment Genji still was quiet, a silent rage that spoke his feelings loud. The air felt tense, like everything around you both was waiting for what Genji was about to do. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him look back to you. His eyes narrowed.

"Why did you let him?"

You felt cold, he still had an edge to his voice.

"I.. I just thought he was being nice.. I know he was your coworker and just wanted to be friendly.."

"Friendly? Cassidy doesn't do shit unless he gains something."

Genji leaned over you, your breath hitched when you looked up to him. His brows were furrowed, and his nose scrunched from a presumed frown. He gave you a look over, focusing more downwards past your face.

He let out an angered sigh, hands shifting behind his head to remove the metal visor he had. Genji tossed the peice of metal onto a nearby chair, he turned back. You could see the displeased expression, a mix of annoyance and something else.

"Damned Cole.."

Was all he said before practically pouncing on you, pulling you close and kissing you. He nipped at your lips slightly, the kiss was clumsy. He was desperate for you, he wanted to claim you. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath.

"You're mine.. nobody else's."

You nodded.

"I'm yours."

"Good girl."

He kissed you once more, but ended it faster. He started to walk over to the bedroom, you followed him.

He opened the door for you, as you stepped in you heard the door shut and a click of the lock. You knew Genji always kept his door locked. He always was like that so the sound didn't startle you, but you always knew he locked the door when you two would fool around.

Your thoughts stopped when you felt him grab your arm harshly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to pull you to the bed. Genji pushed you down, your back hit the soft blankets of your comforter.

The man above you wasted no time in joining you on the bed, both your guy's legs dangled off the edge. That didn't matter, Genji was quick to tackle you to the mattress. He captured your lips into another heated make out, his hands roamed around your body. Grabbing at your flesh through your clothes, you could feel the hardening shaft in his pants against your leg. He wasn't getting any friction, he groaned into the kiss, clearly wanting more. He pulled away, panting like a dog in heat.

"Hah.. you're mine.. Y/N. Nobody else's."

His lids were half lidded, but held a passion that he always would have during his time with you. Genji was always head over heels for you, and being so close made him almost drunk at the feeling. And to think someone like Cole would try to steal it from him.

In the mix of lust and love for you, his hazy mind still had leftover resentment from the bar. He knew it wasn't you, and yet.. you still talked to him.

Genji always rode the fine line of right and wrong. Before he still tried to be a good person, the things he would do in the bedroom remained pretty vanilla. But now, he saw it as something he could never have again, yet he does. That passion always makes him indulge roughly, grabbing and skin and biting until blood spills.

Just like now, how he ruts at a hard and fast pace. As he kissed you he nipped at your lips, groaning at the slight taste of iron on his tongue. Genji's grip was firm, too firm. The hand he had left of his broken body dug it's nails into the side of your torso. The other harshly gripping into the meat of your arm, like he still couldn't quite grasp his grip strength.

And yet, it still wasn't enough.

Genji pulled away, pulling his hands away too. The lack of contact made you wine, he smirked.

"Hah.. still want more? You want me?"

You nodded, he was all you ever wanted.

"Me? And not.. not some drunk cowboy?"

No. Cole could never compare, he wouldn't treat you with such high regard as Genji does. Each act of love cementing in place how truly honored he is to have you. Nobody is special like Genji, those deep red eyes, that soft black hair.

"No.. only you, Genji.."

You shyly smiled, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Genji smiled, a warm and soft smile spreading across his face. Everytime you said something like that he could never get enough, no drug in the world could compare.

Genji began to continue running his hands along your sides, letting out content grunts and groans as he did. He was always vocal about how you made him feel, this time no different from the rest. Aside from how much more he enveloped your senses, like everything you had was his and his alone. No man could love you like he could, no man could fuck you like he could.

He shifted so he could start to tug and the hem of your pants, the fabric blocking him from his goal. You were quick to let him remove the garmets, leaving you in your underwear. With a content sigh he reached down, running his fingers along the front of your panties right agasint your clit.

"Tsk.. already so wet for me.. and only me."

His fingers slipped past the thin fabric, he ran circles into your bud of nerves. Slow. Deliberate. Teasing.

"Genji.. please.."

"Shhh.. I'm with you.. let me have my fun, Y/N.."

He placed soft, delicate kisses along ypur neck, chuckling at the noises you made from his touch.

"So needy.. so perfect.."

Genji continued to swirl his finger along your clit, always so precise in where to touch you. He had expierence, and now everything he learned he used on you, his actions always had a goal. And that goal was always the same, make you feel good.

He wanted to be the only source of pleasure you got, his body was broken, but he wanted him to be the only way you could cum. The pride he felt when feeling you throb to his touch, the whimpers of pleasure from what he did.. Genji wanted more.

His breaths were hot and heavy against your ear, air would be sucked in through his teeth. Even giving you pleasure was enough to make him grunt in your ear, it felt amazing and overwhelming all at once. With his free hand he reached down and tugged at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"I need you.. now."

He placed a needy kiss to your neck, his lips were warm. The constant friction to your clit made your head feel dizzy, Genji always knew how to touch you. Your senses heightened, the feeling of pleasure started to build up.

"Genji.. mm close.."

He let out a little chuckle.

"Yes.. I know Y/N.. cum for me."

The feeling in your stomach tightened, he kept his fingers moving at the same pace. It all felt so good.. it was Genji.. he was there and all for you. It all became too much, the tension snapping as you went over the edge. His fingers kept the pace, riding you through your orgasm.

"That's it.. fuck.. Y/N you do so much to me.. you don't even know.."

He pulled his hand away, he held his hand in front of your face. A content smirk across his features. He splayed them apart, making a show of your fluids connecting in a string along his fingers. While maintaining eye contact he ran his tongue along them. Seemingly savoring the taste.

"Taste so good too.. and all mine to enjoy.."

Nothing could compare to the love he had for you.. how much he enjoyed having you all to himself. Genji needed more, he pulled away, ripping down his sweatpants and boxers to free his throbbing cock. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, no longer having to deal with the constraints of his clothing.

He kicked the clothes no longer needed to the ground, he would pick up later. Genji gave you a playful smile before he pushed your legs up, giving him easy access.

"I've wanted this since the bar.. you looked so good in the lighting.."

He pressed the tip against you, him grunting at the feeling. Even the smallest things got him vocal, Genji lived and breathed for you. The clutches you had on him could never compare, he was all yours. Genji wanted you all to himself. With the slick from your previous orgasm he was able to slide in with ease, the warmth had him gasping.

"Y/N.. hah.. I love you.."

You couldn't help but whimper, for each moment like this every word he said couldn't help but add more blush to your cheeks. He continued to ease into you, the stretch was just to much but not enough. He was big, but not the the point it hurt.

Genji was halfway inside now, he ran his lone still flesh hand along your hip. His hand was warm, compared to the usual cold he was.

He pushed in more, his cock stretching you out perfectly. As he was fully in, he let out a shaky sigh. Holding your hips with both hands, his thumbs rubbing circles into your flesh.

"You.. Y/N.. Only you.."

Everything he did was for you now, nothing and nobody could compare. He slid out before pressing himself back in, the motion earning more noises from you. He smirked, repeating it again, and again. The pace was slow, but as he continued the desperation to fully burry himself in you grew. Soon he was thrusting in fast, the drip on your hips was rough as he slammed his cock deeper into you.

Genji whined at the feeling, you just felt so good. He couldn't care the idea of someone having you beneath them like he had.

The feeling of his cock repeatedly pressing against the sweet spot inside, it made your toes curl. Genji shuddered, groaning and gasping at how tight you felt. You both felt close to your approaching orgasms. His hand reached down between you, rubbing circles into your clit.

The added stimulation soon became too much, the tightening in your stomach snapped as you came. The feeling of you pulsing made Genji grunt out some curses before he fucked into you faster. Harder. His mind clouded with his own orgasm soon approaching.

His rubbing on your clit stopped before he was holding onto your hips to the point that it hurt, Genji moaned as he came deep inside you. His hips faltered and ropes of cum spurted inside. Genji closed his eyes in bliss, times like this made him feel whole again. Being buried deep inside the lone person he valued, he felt like him. Regardless of the metal his body was mostly made of, he felt you around him. He heard you moan his name. You were his, and he was yours.

Genji nuzzled into your neck, placing a kiss to your collarbone. You both could worry about cleaning up afterwards, all that mattered to him was laying in the bliss of your highs and eachother. Genji had a content smile on his face, before he spent his nights alone. He was cold, alone.. angry. In your arms he felt seen, comforted. It was like those peaceful days on the Shimada estate, but now he had someone he could see a future with, his future with. Nobody else could ever dream of it, nobody.

[smokesandsonatas]

Theory and Analysis

The Legacy of the Shroud and Draconia Families: The Prodigy and the Miracle

I haven't posted anything in ages, but in the span of a day, I have caught up to everything happening in TWST. All I could say is -

Wow.

Should I miss or incorrectly put the lore, feel free to correct me.

Warning: Spoilers, long post, language, and crude humour.

Without further ado, let's get into the post. All credits belong to their owners.

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The Shroud clan

The Shrouds have been in existence for a really long time. Their ancestor was "appointed a Gatekeeper back in the age of gods and goddesses." Let's assume that was thousands of years ago. Due to this task of essentially keeping the balance in TWST World, Tartarus was built, and henceforth S.T.Y.X was 'formed' about 100 years ago.

Due to their long history, the Shrouds are rich, rivaling the Al-Asims in terms of wealth. According to Vil, they are a branch of Jupiter Enterprises. An influential conglomerate that essentially built Google Chrome, or maybe Facebook, and Amazon of TWST.

The Shrouds reside on the Island of Woe. It is not on any map, therefore it is completely hidden from the public due to the fact it is literally built under the sea.

For the secret organization, Lillia said that a legend goes like this, "When a wizard forgets themselves and succumbs to their own power, punishment from the Island of Woe shall befall them."

The Shrouds are tasked with such a heavy job that about a hundred years ago, they were cursed, preventing them from escaping their duties. This curse manifested in their flaming blue hair, burning off accumulated blot. But if there's no blot to burn, the curse instead eats their magical energy. That's why the Shrouds, especially Idia having inherited the curse from his father, must now be in constant close state of OB to survive.

Idia's grandmother, Aidne/Idone Shroud, is known to have this curse. Both her and her son, Mr. Shroud are using magical devices to combat it.

The Shroud Prodigy and Tragedy

Idia is a prodigy. Born a genius in the Island of Woe. As a child his intellect far surpasses the adult researchers at S.T.Y.X. With this impressive show of his potential, his fate is sealed: Idia will become the next head of the Shroud family.

Ortho's life is a tragedy. He was born, and then he died. Then he was reborn again as a humanoid robot that Idia created while in complete isolation for 2 years. Complete with the 'real' Ortho's memories, personality, and appearance.

This is Idia's way of coping with the guilt that consumes him. Blaming himself for his only brother's death.

Why wouldn't Mama and Papa Shroud do something about this?

I like to think that they did try to console Idia. From the looks of it, they do love their children equally. But they also have to grieve too. They also suffer the same guilt Idia feels because suddenly the portal that they're supposed to monitor as the Director and Chief Engineer of S.T.Y.X breaks open, resulting in the death of their younger son. [But I think Idia's unique magic has something to do with the incident.]

It is important to note that Mama and Papa Shroud treat 'Ortho' as their real child, not a replacement of their dead son. With the events ending in Ignihyde chapter, Ortho is on his way to becoming his own person.

Combining his brother's 'death', the responsibility of running S.T.Y.X in the future, the constant state of near OB just to stay alive, and the isolation made Idia the genius, foul-mouthed, introvert prodigy dorm leader of Ignihyde.

As of Diasomnia chapter, Papa and Mama Shroud, the Director and Chief Engineer of S.T.Y.X respectively, are trying to get in touch, or are now in touch, with Queen Maleficia, Malleus' grandmother.

The Draconia family

The Draconias are nocturnal fae, tracing back their long lineage to dragons. They all possibly have horns protruding from their heads. Their lifespans can go on for centuries. A Draconia will reach adulthood at the age of 1,000 years old. That lifespan is longer than the kind of fae like Lilia.

Simplified:

If Malleus reach 1,000 years old, he'll be only known as an adult Draconia, but for Lilia, 1,000 years is his whole lifespan.

In the current events of TWST, we only know 3 Draconias so far.

Queen Maleficia, Princess Mallenoire/Malenoa, and the only known male heir, Malleus.

Not much is known about them, except the current queen (has been for a long time) is Queen Malefecia, the grandmother. She adopted Lilia and Levan, the father of Malleus and Princess Malenoa's husband. The royalty in Briary Valley is complete with senators, dukes, royal guards, and is just basically a monarchy of faes.

The Draconias, and most fae creatures, reside in Briar Valley. There are forests that are pitch black, giving an advantage to nocturnal faes, like Lilia. It is also rich in magical minerals.

In Diasomnia chapter, Malleus put up a barrier of thorns that is going around or extending throughout Sage Island, essentially marking it as his domain, and everyone in this domain will remain asleep, dreaming. It is worth noting that Malleus is said to be one of the top strongest mages, as evidenced by this:

"S.T.Y.X. together with the Magical Force, and the Briar Valley’s royal family attempted to break into Malleus Draconia’s domain, but… "

"Neither physical nor magical attacks could make a dent."

"The thorns do not discriminate between humans and fae, and anyone attempting to enter just get sucked into the field."

Because he's a fae, he gets energy from his surroundings. Therefore if Malleus' keeps extending his barrier, he will get stronger. Heed that not even Queen Maleficia can get through the barrier her grandson had created. With this scenario, it effectively puts Malleus, a little bit stronger than her.

The Draconia Miracle

I contemplated saying the Draconian Miracle but either way is fine.

If we are to consider Malleus as a miracle manifest in itself, let's first look at the way he was born.

The prelude of Malleus' birth is chaos.

During or even before he emerged from his shell, Briar Valley is going through a fae-human war. Starting when the humans started populating and abusing the place. Note that their population started with only a small sailing ship, and throughout the years they multiplied.

Princess Mallenoire/Malenoa/Mallenoa is the mother of Malleus, and she, by far is the strongest defense of the land, as said by Lillia.

But before Malleus can even crack the shell, his mother is already gone. Going by the angst route, let's assume she died protecting her egg that houses her son.

Makes you wonder how brutal the fight must be to 'kill' a mother dragon protecting her only child.

Levan/Revern, a raven fae or a dragon duke in some sources, is his father. He is a diplomat of Briar Valley, therefore his task falls into making allies, not enemies.

Yet, he did not return.

It is presumed that he died in an ambush, or possibly has a new identity. If he is alive it is cruel for him to not come back to his unhatched son. I am not saying Crowley is Malleus' father but there's a chance that Crowley is related to the Draconias, in one way or another.

Now, why is Malleus considered a miracle?

Because he was born against all odds. His birth is a highly impossible event, yet it did happen.

Due to his parents' absence, this effectively made the hatching of Malleus uncertain. Dragon eggs can hatch within 2-3 years of laying if showered with love and cared for.

[ This part is taken from the accounts of Lilia's dream in the Diasomnia chapter, where Silver is also surprised by the huge gap of the war and the dragon heir's birth.]

Malleus' birth is delayed by 200 years, because he has no one to care for him. It is truly pitiful that even before his birth, Malleus is abandoned.

Why wouldn't Queen Maleficia love her unhatched grandson? Is her love and power not enough to hatch Malleus?

I bet she did, but she also has grieve the death of her only child. On top of that, she has to be strong because she's a queen of a country. Any sign of weakness can mean the humans threatening her or even one of the faes betraying them, putting her family and the nation in danger.

The thought of the Draconia bloodline ending with her likely filled her with depression. Also, Queen Maleficia is not Malleus birth mother, only his grandmother. So that is not enough for a dragon egg to hatch, since it needed the love from his birth parents. I like to think that this part is where Lilia, as his caretaker will come in. Lilia's loyalty to Draconias extended to Malleus, softening the heart of the war-torn general, enough that he had the sympathy to adopt a human child.

It took 200 long years for Malleus to emerge from his egg shell and when he did, Briar Valley celebrated his birth. Matter of fact, his birthday is a public holiday.

Defying the odds is another powerful instance why Malleus is born to be a king faes, the valley and the abyss.

The parallels between Idia (the prodigy) and Malleus (the miracle)

[Is it me or they both look good?!]

Both Malleus and Idia grew up in isolation.

Literally.

[Island of Woe and Briary Valley are two places in the middle of seven-knows-what. Anyway...!]

With Malleus as the only heir, and Idia as the first born, they both have huge responsibilities on their shoulders. We're talking about responsibilities scaling nations and the safety of huge populations.

Idia's childhood is tragic with the death of his brother. But we can argue that Malleus' childhood is tragic too, with the disappearance of his parents.

Malleus grew up isolated and protected in the castle. His only confidant for decades is Lilia, his caretaker. And even then, Malleus said that Lilia is prone to going away for long periods of time.

For Idia, his only companion for the 2 years he locked himself in his room is the prototype of Ortho that he's building.

Idia represents the uncanny future, and Malleus represents the eerie past.

Think of it this way, if you put Malleus in Island of Woe where everything is about technology, I bet he will say something about the importanc of the past and teleport back to his place.

If you put Idia in Briar Valley... man's not even going to survive the night. He will lament his poor WiFi connection.

They compliment each other well: One doesn't want to be approached and the other is unapproachable.

Both Idia and Malleus are some of the loneliest students in NRC. Idia doesn't have social cues, and Malleus... doesn't have good social cues either.

They're both so awkward when interacting with others it becomes endearing.

As awkward as they are, both are arrogant too. Every time Idia regards himself as the acting leader of S.T.Y.X and Malleus as the future king, sends a thrill or.pride to whoever can hear them. [Go forth children! Be the leaders of the TWST world.]

And they will be leaders. As heavy as the mantle of Shroud and Draconia is, Idia and Malleus will have no choose but to shoulder on. That's why I think the battle between (yuu), Idia along with NRC against Malleus will be tragically beautiful.

+++

Fun fact: Hades tried to ask Maleficent out in a date once, lol.

+++

There's a reason why all of a sudden the story of TWST started to become more serious in the Ignihyde chapter and just hit the fan in Diasomnia. Soon, were about to find out why.

Idia and Malleus are the complete opposite yet their existence compliments each other so well.

One is a keeper of the underworld, and the other the blessing of maleficence.

And then there's Yuu, trying to uncover the secrets of Twisted Wonderland.

[babbletaels]

Like the problem I have with the jedi are the way they're a large institution that thinks they know what's best for everyone and breeds that mindset into their pupils. There are rules they have to follow to not get shunned from the jedi order, we see this as anakin can't tell anyone he's married and about to have children. It's apparently so secretive that even after anakin is left half dead and whats left of his body is actively burning to a crisp, Obi wan still doesn't call for help for padmé to give birth. It's only him and a robot! sorry I mean "droid" or whatever.

They freely host these rules that make their members want to hide their "mistakes" and their flaws instead of being able to work on their issues, and they see no fault in this system until it all goes wrong of course. It's clearly displayed this way for a reason, no?

One of the issues the jedi have is that they recruit children as young as possible, and when a person becomes a jedi they're not allowed to meet their family again because they're constantly on the job basically. We hear this being talked about in the movies and in shows too. I almost thought it was just a once or twice happenstance kind of thing, because anakins mom was a slave so she couldn't follow them, but it seems like they just literally do this every time. It's not healthy for children to be taken away from their families. Even kids from abusive or otherwise incapable families will have trauma from being taken away from their family. Even surrogate children can display trauma because of this.

Ask yourself, why are the jedi portrayed to do this instead of being portrayed as letting their pupils go home on the weekends or going home on summer break or why are they not portrayed as getting to bring one of their parents? You think it's unrealistic, that they can't host that many families. But there's fire in space. There's light sabers. There's an entire planet that's just one big industrialized city - and people actually like that place and want to be there. Why can't there be a family quarters? Some parents probably don't want to move and will let their kid go alone, so you can still have stories about sad kids who miss their parents.

The jedi are just simply portrayed as having flaws. Their methods of bringing up padawans became their downfall when one of their pupils couldn't handle these situations. In A new hope, only two jedi are left alive. They take in Luke who is an adult and train him to be a jedi, even though the jedi order doesn't take in adults to train them to become jedi. And Luke turns out great, so like what's even the issue. Why can't they take in force sensitive people of all ages based on requests? Post flyers that say "is your kid scaring you by making things fly? contact us". Everyone in the galaxy already know what the jedi order is. Instead of going somewhere and saying "your kid is force sensitive, I want to take him with me to train him because he's dangerous blah blah, and you have to make the decision right now" just let people contact you when they feel like they need you? And also let your employees have some time off where they can visit their fucking families?

Like the jedi order has flaws! Why are people so pissy when you point out that they have flaws, when the movies and everything ever deliberately made these flaws a thing in the first place! They didn't need to have flaws, they could've been perfect if they had been written as such!

[imitationgame77]

Twice, Mensah melts Murderbot

Murderbot is a very private person, often struggles to keep its emotions under control. Even though Murderbot is often blunt, sometimes even a bit rude to the humans, it is generally keeping its emotional expressions under control.

It can be openly rude to two - Gurathin and ART.

Gurathin was probably the first (augmented) human to whom Murderbot could openly express strong disapproval since it disabled the governor module (I don't like you; Fuck you)

ART is the receiving end of various expletives in Network Effect. (Because it is Murderbot's friend and not its client)

Mensah, on the other hand, is the only person that seems to be able to melt Murderbot's metaphorical heart, and gives it a sense of vulnerability. Because she understands it as a person - as only friends on the same wavelength can.

------------------------------------------

All Systems Red

I muted my feed and the comm, and she said, “I know you’re more comfortable with keeping your helmet opaque, but the situation has changed. We need to see you.”

I didn’t want to do it. Now more than ever. They knew too much about me. But I needed them to trust me so I could keep them alive and keep doing my job. The good version of my job, not the half-assed version of my job that I’d been doing before things started trying to kill my clients. I still didn’t want to do it. “It’s usually better if humans think of me as a robot,” I said.

“Maybe, under normal circumstances.” She was looking a little off to one side, not trying to make eye contact, which I appreciated. “But this situation is different. It would be better if they could think of you as a person who is trying to help. Because that’s how I think of you.”

My insides melted. That’s the only way I could describe it. After a minute, when I had my expression under control, I cleared the face plate and had it and the helmet fold back into my armor.

Wells, Martha. All Systems Red (Kindle Single): The Murderbot Diaries (English Edition) (pp.103-104).

-----------------------------

Exit Strategy

Huh, why did I like Sanctuary Moon so much? I had to pull the memory from my archive, and what I saw there startled me. “It’s the first one I saw. When I hacked my governor module and picked up the entertainment feed. It made me feel like a person.” Yeah, that last part shouldn’t have come out, but with all the security-feed monitoring I was doing, I was losing control of my output. I closed my archive. I really needed to get around to setting that one-second delay on my mouth.

[...]

She said instead, “Why did it make you feel that way?”

“I don’t know.” That was true. But pulling the archived memory had brought it back, vividly, as if it had all just happened. (Stupid human neural tissue does that.) The words kept wanting to come out. It gave me context for the emotions I was feeling, I managed not to say. “It kept me company without…”

“Without making you interact?” she suggested.

That she understood even that much made me melt. I hate that this happens, it makes me feel vulnerable. Maybe that was why I had been nervous about meeting Mensah again, and not all the other dumb reasons I had come up with. I hadn’t been afraid that she wasn’t my friend, I had been afraid that she was, and what it did to me.

Wells, Martha. Exit Strategy: The Murderbot Diaries (pp.115-116)

--------------------------------------------

I don't wish to sound like Anne Shirley, but both Dr. Mensah and ART are kindred spirits (or something like soulmates) to Murderbot, but in different ways.

ART 'gets' Murderbot's thought/action processes and tendencies perfectly, and also comes to understand its emotion reactions since they shared long hours of media viewing where ART learned to process subjective emotions through Murderbot's reactions. ART is more likely to challenge Murderbot when it notes unproductive thought processes, or gets Murderbot to express it to make it understand its own thoughts.

Dr. Mensah, in contrast, is a highly empathetic and intelligent person, and she instintively understands Murderbot. Her high intellectual and emotional intelligence made her the planetary leader, loved and admired by many. She expresses her understanding of Murderbot, which is often accurate and makes it feel vulnerable, but not in a bad way. It feels being understood.

It is very touching the way Murderbot can be vulnerable in her presence and trusts her completely. HelpMe.file reveals that how it has come to unlearn its instinctive response to use violence in order to eliminate threat by trusting her.

Murderbot likes PresAux people, and calls Ratthi its friend, but it is clear to readers that Dr. Mensah is a very special person to it. And Murderbot is also a special person to Dr. Mensah that she can trust with her life.

It melts ME whenever I read them interact.

Amena seems to have inherited some of her second mother's emotinal intelligence. Hope she appears in the future again. I liked the way the relationship between her and Murderbot developed in Network Effect.

[chillerss]

Hey guys! I’m alive again! (shocker)

And I’ve been writing consistently again! (another shocker)

I kind of fell off in 2019 because I moved out west and ended up spending a ton of time outside. I hardly used my phone that whole summer, so when I tried to get back into writing by 2020, the writer’s block was heaaavy.

Recently I came back to writing reader inserts for Transformers again and I remembered how much I love it. For years I was posting everything on Quotev, but I’d really like to reach more people if it’s possible. This fic was my own escape from life and Bumblebee has always been my biggest comfort character, so I want to continue sharing it if others find some kind of comfort in it like I originally intended. That being said I’m going to continue posting on Quotev, but I’ll also be posting both stories here!

I’d love to continue the reboot of my first fic (based in TFA and sort of like an AU because instead of Sari, they find you) and the sequel fic (based in TFP). If you’re a Bumblebee lover like myself, I’d love it if you’d take a look! Feel free to check them out on Quotev, my user there is Bumblebutt. But PLEASE be aware that I wrote and finished IKYS specifically when I was like, 13 - 16 years old. It gets slightly better as you read, but overall it is still classic cringeworthy teenaged girl writing. Hence the rewrite.💀

Here are the blurbs for both fics!

₊ ⊹ 🐝 ⊹ ₊ I’ll Keep You Safe - TFA Bumblebee/fem!reader (currently rewriting) ₊ ⊹ 🐝 ⊹ ₊

Detroit was not where you wanted to move to, but it was now your only option after your grandmother’s passing. So you move in with your only living relative and soon come to find yourself infatuated with the team of giant alien robots protecting the city. They take a sudden interest in you too when their scout, Bumblebee, rescues you from a precarious incident and a close bond quickly forms between you and the young ‘Bot.

However, things take a turn when the Decepticons set their sights on you. So much so that they hire a bounty hunter to capture you alongside their efforts. Bumblebee would do anything to keep you safe, but he and the rest of his small Autobot team have their work cut out for them. His worst nightmare is failing to keep his promise to you—and with the way their circumstances keep getting tested—that just may be on his horizon.

₊ ⊹ 🐝 ⊹ ₊ Heart of His Spark - TFP Bumblebee/fem!reader (IKYS Sequel) ₊ ⊹ 🐝 ⊹ ₊

It’s been years since you last saw your best friend. You were thrown into witness protection after the Autobots’ departure and life had been so plain and simple ever since. The quiet peace was more than welcome, but the loneliness that accompanies it is almost unbearable at times. That is, until one random Wednesday afternoon when some kid from Nevada gives you a call.

Before you know it, you’re thrust back into life at his side again. The struggle of trying to balance your past trauma with what’s happening everyday in Cybertronian affairs has an iron grip on you. But Bumblebee now has two charges to look after, and you’re never going to let what happened to you, happen to these three kids—no matter what Bumblebee promises.

Go ahead and zip over to Quotev if you’d like, and thank you for reading! New chapters coming soon. :)

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

I'm so sorry to hear you were in an accident im glad you are alive and feeling okay again <3<3

I'd love to send you a lotura prompt, hopefully it lifts your spirits to be back on that sweet ship.

How about Lotor and Allura talking about weapons? (i.e. Like how Allura prefers a staff and Lotors sword designs (like the one he was first shown with) )

Hey, good to hear from you and thanks for your super kind note!! I'm doing a little better each day and am excited to get back to regular routines! While I was on hold over the phone about paperwork today, I managed to exercise my brain with the prompt you gave me! <3

Staff vs. Sword

Emperor Lotor leans against a wall, crossing his arms and quirking a slim, white eyebrow at the princess before him. “Surely, you jest with me,” he murmurs. “A staff again?”

Princess Allura beams, and she grabs her favorite staff from the blunted practice weapons with a solid grip, fingers tight. With a quick flick of her wrist, she spins it and sets the end solidly on the ground. “My bayard for Blue Lion also turns into a whip,” she says nonchalantly, “but that seems entirely unfair to use against you, as it produces an electric shock.”

“Ah, yes.” His eyes crinkle, his slit pupils dilating with softness. He adds dryly, “Because we do not already create enough sparks on the courts.”

She brushes back her long, thick braid and waggles her eyebrows. “You said it, not me.” And then she pokes his chest plate with the end of her staff. “Do tell me you’re not afraid of a second round after I defeated you.”

“And nearly caused an intergalactic incident,” he says, voice halted. “The training grounds are intended for practicing the art of combat—not the art of catching one’s opponent off-guard with a kiss.”  

With a giggle, Allura pulls the staff back, her Altean markings glowing a bright pink. “Yes, well, we Alteans have a saying that all’s fair in love and war. Now, pick your weapon, dear emperor, so that I may defeat you once more. And do choose something other than a sword this time—at least mix it up for me?”

Lotor eyes her before grabbing a blunted sword from the wall, inspecting its balance. His long fingers grip the hilt tightly. “A sword is the best extension of a warrior’s will,” he declares, raising his chin with a petulant chin. “It is simple. It is efficient. It is my favorite weapon.”

Allura sighs dramatically at him. “It does not have quite the—” she waves her hand—“the impact of a staff, though.”

He raises the silver sword to her. “The staff is an impact weapon,” he says dryly. “You simply seek to showcase your Altean strength to the Galra who prowl these courts, and that is why you prefer it as of late."

“Tish tosh,” she says, planting her feet properly on the training mat and eyeing him with an increased wariness. She knows Lotor likes to strike unexpectedly. “I also happen to like the way training robots crumple to bits beneath a staff. It relieves the stress I feel after a large conference with intergalactic leaders.”

A tick of silence stretches between them.

And then in a blur, Lotor races toward her, slashing down.

She blocks with the staff and swings, and he ducks smoothly before stepping back, flipping the sword in his hand.

He paces the mat, the overhead lights capturing the glow of his eyes like a predator in the dark wilderness. “Poor Princess Allura,” he teases. “All the power in the universe, and yet you fear the peace we have wrought together, instead longing for means of violence. Are you certain you are not of Galran blood somewhere in that long ancestry of yours?”

Alura’s voice strains as she circles him as well, resetting her staff. “I can’t think of a single species that doesn’t enjoy a rough tumble now and again, in a safe, non-war environment. Why, the humans even have something called, um—” Her concentration breaks as she pauses, snapping her fingers. “Um, wrestling. And something called rugby. And then they have a very large, worldwide competition for their various violent sports, called the Olympics.”

Lotor pauses.

His slit pupils widen in curiosity of other cultures. “Olympics? Is that similar to a Kral Zera?”

“Somewhat,” she nods, “but instead of choosing a world leader by, um, killing everyone, these tournaments are for medals that they wear around their necks and then bite in front of cameras. And no one dies generally.”

He lunges again, and in a blur, wrenches the staff away from her hands and presses her up against a wall.

Allura squeaks, eyes wide.

His nose is inches from her own, his breath a hot puff against her face. “How very curious.”  

Her breath stalls as her cheeks heat hard enough to radiate to him. “Um, y-yes.”

Lotor’s wide mouth splits as he whispers against her mouth, “Fortunately for you, princess, I’ve no intent to fight you truly, or you would already be dead with your silly staff. And if it were these Olympics, you would have no medal to bite.”

Face flushed, her eyes narrow to slits, and before Lotor can avoid it, she hooks her ankle against his and unbalances him. Surprised claws protract from his hands, gripping into her practice armor and his eyes widen.

And the two royals fall in a pile of limbs upon the mat, with Allura sprawled on top of a stunned Lotor, his sword clattering to the mat beside them.  

“Oh, no,” she says with a triumphant giggle, hands planted over his chest plate. Her curly flyaways are an angelic halo around her face. “You lowered your weapon but did not fully secure me, so I still win.”

Lotor grumps beneath her, his lavender cheeks flushing as he grips her forearms.

And despite Galra leadership watching the courts and murmuring with gossip in the far distance, Lotor softens. His rough, calloused thumbs stroke a pink marking along her bare forearm. “Best two out of three, then? I promise to secure you fully next time and cause another scandal for it.”

Allura leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Very well, Emperor Lotor. You’re on.”

[sir-dahlia]

First, there was nothing. No string of thought, no emotion, no feeling. Nothing.

For a robot, nothing means death.

There is no afterlife for drones. This is a fact. They live, serve their purpose, then shut down after they have served it.

However, this time, there was a voice.

A voice without sound. A saving grace. A light in the abyss.

[I WILL NOT DISCARD YOU] it said. [GET UP]

Consciousness. A heart wrenching itself into motion. Gears shifting uncomfortably, as if they didn't fit in their places. Lights flickering on and fighting to stay alive. It's difficult to see at first, but I adjust.

Bodies.

Fellow worker drones laying everywhere in a pile on top of my living, breathing corpse. They had no part in my life, but I still felt fear and guilt and the crushing weight of being the only one chosen by something to come back to life.

Lungs. There are lungs in my body. Expand, contract. Expand, contract. Having these lungs is a privilege.

[GET UP] it says again.

My body twists and twitches horrifically as I gather my strength. I would have to dig my way out of here.

My hand reaches out and grasps someone's head, but my grip is weak and my hand slips off. My whole body is trembling. I feel weak. I am weak.

[TRY AGAIN] it says.

Hesitation. Reaching out again. I press my weight down onto the drone and push myself upwards. I place my other hand on another corpse and continue the climb.

[KEEP GOING]

Its encouragement offers me some solace. I place my hand on another corpse. Climb. Another corpse. Climb. It all fades away.

Expand. Contract. Expand. Contract. Expand. Expand. Contract. Expand. Expand. Expand. My lungs can't stop taking in air.

[STOP]

I do so.

[IT'S OK. BREATHE OUT]

Contract.

[BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT]

Expand. Contract.

[YOU'RE ALMOST THERE. YOU'RE DOING GREAT. KEEP GOING]

Hesitation again, then determination. It is not the hopeful kind of determination, but instead the determination of a cornered animal. The desire to flee and run somewhere and hide overwhelms my senses. The corpses fade away. The climbing fades away. I must get out. I must go somewhere safe.

Somewhere safe.

A memory that is not mine burrows into my core. Comfort. Surrounded by loved ones. Proud smiles. A different kind of heart beats for them.

I push a few more corpses out of my way and claw my way out into the storm. I gasp and gulp at the air, holding back sobs. I pull the rest of my body out, but in the process I send myself tumbling down, down, down.

I hit the ground. An explosion of pain. Numbing. The voice remains.

[GET UP]

I try picking myself off the ground, but I have no strength. I can't do it. I can't. The mud weighs me down.

[GET UP]

A force takes over my body. We slowly hoist ourselves up, trying to stand. Our balance is off, and our knees are shaking. We take one uncertain step forward, then another. Left, right, left, right.

A different voice.

"Oh my god! Are you okay, little one?" We're being scooped up. Fear kicks in again, and I twist and fight for all I'm worth. I have to leave. I have to get somewhere safe.

"Whoa, I'm trying to help you! Calm down!" I slowly turn to see who is carrying me. A young girl. Big, hopeful eyes, shielded by a yellow raincoat. Human.

Human.

And she was helping me.

She was helping us.

I stop moving and stare at her. She smiles.

"Why don't I take you back to my mansion? I'll clean you up. You look terrified."

Somewhere safe, perhaps. I let her take me.

Within the span of a few minutes, she has taken me inside the mansion and put me in a pretty dress. Now, she was searching for a wig and hair accessories for me to wear.

"Maybe you'll look cute in braids. Oh, oh, maybe pigtails!" she paused, thinking to herself. "No, J already has those. She'll get jealous."

The human put a wig on my head and brushed out some of the tangles. She stood back, her hands hovering over my head. She could snap my neck any time she wanted to.

Instead, she asked, "What kind of hairstyle would you like?"

I have never thought of myself as a person up until this point. I had no idea. I wasn't a person until now. I shrug.

She hums, flipping some strands of the wig's hair around. I suppose I should say 'my hair,' but it didn't feel like mine just yet. The girl grabs some elastics and begins fluffing up my bangs.

"I could just give you my hairstyle. What about that?"

I hadn't heard the silent voice in a while. I didn't answer her. She shrugged and started replicating her hairstyle anyway.

"My name is Tessa, by the way," she announced. "It's a pleasure to meet you..." She squinted at my armband. "...Cyn?"

A name. That was all I had.

"CYN." I repeated, trying the word. Cyn. Yes. It was mine.

[CYN]

[I WILL NOT DISCARD YOU, CYN]

[reduxulousoctopus]

Okay, have just finished Courage and now I feel like I gotta write my review of "the Morpherine episode" lol

Before we get into it, I have to say I'm a bit disappointed by the Sentinel plot after what happened during the finale of season one.

To recap, it turns out that the Sentinels are abducting world leaders because their programming told them to defend humans from mutants, but because "mutants ARE humans," Mastermold interpreted that to means their mission is actually to defend humans from themselves by taking control of the world. Brilliant way to resolve that arc, and a clever subversion of both the human bigotry that created them AND Xavier's/the X-Men's mission to promote equality between humans and mutants (because the Sentinels are still their enemies even while technically agreeing with them).

So having the Sentinels, especially Mastermold, just be generic mutant-hunting robots again is a let-down, especially without any explanation. They could have kept the Sentinels as the villains for this episode without ignoring all that, y'know? Ah, well. More superficially, they also changed the voice of the Sentinels for some reason? They just sound like guys now, it's weird.

Alright, that's enough of the actually respectable media analysis, let's get into what we're really here for:

While I didn't notice any bombshell lines like "Or maybe it's love you're missing?" in this episode, there were plenty of cute moments. For the most part, nothing they do really steps outside the bounds of best-friendship. For example, Logan is the only one who hugs Morph to welcome them back, but that's not particularly suggestive of anything besides a confirmation that the two of them are closer to each other than they are to the other X-Men.

That said, as soon as Wolverine and Morph are alone, there's a moment where they're both watching some drone footage of the factory they're going to investigate--or, at least, they're supposed to be watching the footage. Instead, the two of them keep staring at each other, then quickly glancing back at the screen as soon as they notice the other one looking. It's like they both know they should be focused on the mission, but all they can think about is each other and the fact that they're finally back together after so much time apart. Or they understand each other so well and have that kind of chemistry where they can have an entire silent conversation just by looking at each other.

There's also some dialogue during their mission together which could be interpreted as slightly flirtatious:

Wolverine: "Still haven't lost your touch, I see." Morph: "Just like riding a bicycle."//"Looks like you haven't lost your touch, either. [laughter]"

It's wild that Wolverine--the jackass who once loudly demanded "Yeah, who? No deserters in this crowd!" after Cyclops tried to subtly explain that some mutants (Rogue) might want to be "cured" (Rogue) and live a normal life (Rogue) because their powers cause them so much pain and isolation (Rogue Rogue he's talking about Rogue she's literally sitting right next to you, catch a fucking hint!), and made fun of Gambit for reacting with alarm at the sight of a (deactivated) Sentinel--is so openly concerned for Morph's emotional well-being after realizing that Sentinels are involved. Like at one point Cyclops even has to step in like "the Professor's just been abducted by giant robots can you shut the fuck up about Morph's feelings for one second???"

We get yet another scene of Logan reacting to Morph's scent, this time as a direct parallel to the one in 'Till Death Do Us Part when he first realizes that Morph's still alive. There's something so weirdly intimate about Logan being able to identity people by scent, considering how closely smells are tied to memories and emotions. Add the fact that Morph's shapeshifting powers can change everything except their scent, so that means Logan can always recognize them no matter what they look or sound like-- it's so good. And the writers must have agreed, because they put in more scenes of Logan tracking or recognizing Morph by their scent than anyone else (at least at this point in the series, we'll see if anyone catches up).

When Morph does their usual shtick, Logan's right there grinning from ear to ear like a doofus. Sir calm down, you're one step away from giggling and twirling your hair around your finger. This is kicking your feet in bed writing "Mx. Morph Howlett" in your dairy type behavior, stoooooop.

Wolverine calls Morph "kid" a couple times this episode, the flip-side of Morph calling him "old man" in Whatever It Takes. Morph also calls him "big guy," which is cute.

Speaking of names, I think this is the first episode where Morph calls him Logan instead of Wolverine. While crying, too, which-- how dare you?? Like yeah, a moment of intense emotion is exactly the correct time to have one character switch to using a more personal name for another character, but also it hurts my feelings so stop it. Look at Wolverine's face, show-writers, you made him sad too.

Morph's very pretty brown eyes get a lot of focus and close-ups in this episode. I wonder if Logan misses seeing them more often now that Morph's going for the inhuman blank-eyed look in '97.

Not relevant, but I have to mention how much I love Wolverine's line-read of "keep your shirt on, puh-rettay boyuh." lol I don't think that's a Canadian accent Mr. Dodd but I do appreciate it thanks. Bringing it back on topic though, at the end, the heartbroken delivery of "Morph, wait!" when Morph takes off to go back to Muir Island is so freaking sad. His voice even breaks a little on the word "wait". He tried so hard to bring Morph home was so happy to finally have them back only to to lose them again and I

So anyway. Yeah. The hype is real. I was disappointed by the Sentinel plot, but that isn't really the focus of the episode. Despite my complaints, the time they could have spent explaining why the Sentinels are back to hunting mutants would have cut down on the exploration of Morph's character, their terribly-timed attempt to return to active duty, and their relationship with Wolverine.

And although nothing explicitly "shippy" happened between them in this episode, Whatever It Takes already established (in my opinion) that there was something not-platonic going on between them before Morph's supposed death (whether they were in a romantic relationship, friends with benefits who caught feelings, had a mutual attraction they never acted on, etc).

With that context, I think their interactions in this episode could be seen as an example of what they're like as a couple. We get to see their dynamic, how they banter, what names they call each other, an example of something that they argue about (Morph feels like they're being babied by Logan's over-protectiveness), an indication of how sentimental/outwardly affectionate they are (Morph mockingly asks if Wolverine's "going to get all mushy on me" and Wolverine answers "I don't get mushy"-- you know, like a liar), and so on.

I'll probably have more to say about this episode later but I've literally been up all night and need to go to bed before I pass out at my desk lol