#Robo Writes

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[robo-drake09]

Short Fic

Main Chars: Surge, Barley

•

Another night at the bar. Sometimes all you need is a good drink and someone to talk to.

Feelings aren't as easy to express when one is so unsure.

[Implied/Potential PartyRules]

Another night at the bar. Just when Barley is about to close up for the night, one last customer comes in.

Sometimes all you need is a good drink and someone to talk to.

Sometimes feelings aren't as easy to express when one is so unsure.

Implication of PartyRules - Surge x Larry.

⭐

Just a few more glasses to wipe and stock before he could officially close up for the night.

It was then when a large robot waltzed in, taking a well used seat at the bar table, just a click before closing time. It would've been surprising given how he had barely heard the bot come in… though, a part of Barley felt as though it was no surprise at all. He whipped his head around, not to shoo him out, but to serve the grand latecomer.

"...back here again. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Barley chimed, lifting his view to meet that client he had gotten to know all too well by now. The Super regular.

It would be one of those nights, it seems.

"I'll take a round of my usual, you know the drill." Surge nodded back at him, his smile meeting that peppy expression as he kicked his feet up on another stool. Barley glanced at them, tapping a finger on the bar top.

"Must I remind you of the etiquette here?"

"Come on, I'll cover for it! Always do- plus, nobody's here anyways." Surge stretched his arms, little clinks of his joints churning as he got comfortable. "I heard you got a new shipment in. Can I..?"

"Word travels fast, hm? Yes, I did receive a new supply of drinks."

Surge beamed, He took out a bottle of energy juice, twirling it in his hand.

"Available for customs?" He asked, tossing the bottle at Barley, who caught it without moving an inch from his spot. He analysed the bottle, noting its pristine condition, fresh labels and all. His eye chimed a warm yellow, along with a nod of his head.

"Always."

-

One, two, three... Goodness, was he glad he stocked some of the bottles in the back for the next day. As much love as he held for this work, as well as the customers that brought him the joy of service... Some days, it really was a question of some people's indulgence to his finely crafted drinks.

Maybe he was too good, hoho...

Surge downed another pint, his engines letting a low rev of satisfaction. Though it would put a costly dent in the budget, it was worth it. He hadn't enjoyed drinks of this quality anywhere but Barley's in all his years of service. Just one of the reasons he'd always come back here.

The atmosphere and Barley's quips could only hold for so long. Surge hadn't once mentioned what his visit today was caused by. That... was unusual, actually.

The average barkeep would mind their own. Listen, pour, serve.

A good barkeep would get to know their customers at these rare hours of the night. After all, it was their responsibility to ensure the safety and comfort of their regulars.

"So many visits lately."

Surge turned his head, giving him a half shrug. "You complaining? I can find another place to wind down, if there's trouble."

"Of course not. Why, I'd never scare off a loyal customer. Let alone one like yourself.” Barley laughed, fixing the bowtie on his chest. “Your business here means good business for me.”

Surge let a soft chuckle out at that, taking another swig of the mighty pint.

"Your place is all the range once fans got whiff of what I think of it. Plus, your talents are one of a kind, Barley."

"Please, you flatter me."

Surge raised a cheer with his drink, taking another sip. He set it down on the table, on a coaster, of course, before leaning an arm on the bar top.

"Anyway… for your comment, I've just got some weird bug floating around my systems. At least, that's what Meg says."

Barley blinked. "Have you gotten that checked? I do have some scanners in the back, if you need." He was fast to offer to get the machine, only to be stopped by Surge shaking his hands.

"No, I'm good! It's not that kind of bug. More like a made up, processing kind—" Surge sighed, a faint warmth coming from his form. His smile was unsteady, head turned away "— the girls call them... butterflies."

"Ah."

That kind of bug.

The bartending robot kept his charming, calm expression. Despite one, having learned of this reason; two, the adorable use of the human expression he adopted from his friends. As for Barley, he knew very well of the term with human context.

Butterflies: To feel unusually nervous to a scenario, often associated with crushes and interests.

Speaking of, it had been quite some time since Surge's last partner... and for good reason. The party bot had broken all records of drinking in that era. Though, that was only known to those who came by at those unkind hours of the night.

Of course, he has a reputation to keep up, and all.

But, who was this newcomer? It was quite a surprise to learn that, really.

"I dunno, they're just overreacting." He finished his glass, sliding it across the counter for another refill.

"Those two do know you best."

Surge shrugged, his audio receptors tilting to the middle position than its usual high standing.

"Yeah, I guess. All it took was this thing I said about how their smile was nice and all, what's the big deal, huh?"

"Nice?"

"Yeah, nice. And cute, or... wait, no- Yeah? How he's always smiling, doin' good and helping people with his job. I like that." Surge swiped the drink up just as it was placed on the coaster in front of him, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "That smiley bot's got real confidence. You don't see that much, not outside of brawls. Nicer than his brother, but man, don't push his buttons, or he's worse than that pitbull!"

Surge laughed at the last name he'd given, bringing a hand up as if to wipe an imaginary tear from his eyes. Barley's interest, meanwhile, had piqued. A smiley robot, with a brother akin to a pitbull... Only one duo in this park fit that description.

Larry and Lawrie, the former, presumably, being this alleged crush.

Larry.

Barley couldn't help but start chuckling as well, placing down the bottle in his hand, lest he drop it and waste the precious drink.

"Hey, what's got you laughing? Didn't take you for enjoying jokes like that." Surge asked, interested in the sudden expression from the bartender.

"I'm merely surprised at this revelation. So, it's Larry at the center of your conflicts now—" Barley's eye flashed a bright yellow, his eye lit up as he laughed "—Hoho, It seems you have a type!"

...

Neither said anything for a considerable, devastatingly painful few seconds. Barley questioned at that moment if those had been the right words to use... Perhaps he had hit a sore spot-

Surge shifted first. He let out a hearty laugh, as that bright smile remained, maybe a tad too much to quite sell the denial. His audio receptors had perked all the way up, too alert.

But, he knew.

Barley always knew.

Just a question of whether or not he'd admit it outright. Knowing how early on this interest seemed to be, perhaps it wasn't meant to be at this moment.

"You're funny, you old rust bucket!" Surge took a swig of his drink, attempting to shift what he'd said, albeit a tad... suddenly.

Barley wasn't about to let it go, though.

"On the contrary, my heroic friend, I mean that quite literally. I find it interesting how you have a type for those who are willing to put others and safety before their own. Good morals seek good morals."

Surge shrugged it off, waving a dismissive hand. He'd downed the rest of his drink, letting the glass clunk heavily on that coaster, keeping the bar top just barely protected.

"Yeah. Sure, the bot has good meaning... I said I respect him and how he stands up for himself. He isn't a pushover."

"I'm well aware, do not worry."

"But that doesn't mean I have a type. Just... coincidence, that's all."

Barley prepared another drink, taking some ice from a cooler behind him.

"...right."

Surge's golden ears tilted back at the unconvincing 'agreement.'

"So, am I safe to assume you do not have similar feelings for the security bot?"

"Yes! Well- maybe? It's not that it's a type, it's just...hm." Surge paused, his smile shifting slightly to a more neutral look as he thought.

Barley watched intently, having seen similar expressions on multiple occasions over the years. The look of the ones who are unable to tell their feelings at the moment. The hesitation was enough of a confirmation for him.

"Look, don't call it like that... like I'm trying to, just… As if I'm trying to find someone almost like him-" How stupid would that be, right? He was supposed to be over his last partner by now, yet here he was, drinking away his thoughts of falling once more. Was he afraid? Still not over what had happened? How stupid he was to be here, pouring his words out to the local barkeep about this dumb bug in his head. Meanwhile he'd probably be judging him for all that he'd spat out—

Barley cleared his throat, catching the hero's attention briefly from his wandering processor.

"I'd suggest nothing of the sort. I merely asked out of curiosity, not to judge."

Surge looked at the barkeep properly now, who was entirely confident and true with his statement. Barley wasn't one to He rubbed the back of his head, his ears tilting downwards as he... frowned. The rare, pouty, small frown, one that this hero had worked to push aside for ages since he had felt better regarding his former partner.

"...I know."

"Then, do you feel that you like him?"

Surge looked between Barley and the glass in front of him, back and forth as if either would've given him the answer he needed. Unfortunately, none would come. He sighed, before only giving the older bot a shrug as an answer.

"I don't know yet."

Barley stared at him a moment. He leaned over, extending his arm to pat the shoulder of the bigger robot.

"That's okay."

Such simple words went a long way. He noticed that with humans as well.

Surge managed a smile. Not the overly big one he usually had, but a simpler, acknowledging smile.

Surge stood up, his legs keeping him upright and steady, despite the vast quantities of drinks he'd just consumed. You'd hardly tell, unless you knew where to look. The way he spoke, and the slight darker tint to his energy drink gauge.

Thankfully, he'd burn through any remnants of alcohol by midday, as if nothing had ever happened.

"I'll send you the pay when I get back to the city. Left my gold at base." He chuckled, patting his compartments, only to find nothing but other energy drinks stocked up in them.

"As always... I'll be expecting it in due time. Take care, Surge."

Surge gave a two fingered salute in response, finally allowing Barley his much needed rest for the night once those doors closed.

It wouldn't be a long goodbye, anyway.

Barley felt he'd see him again soon.

[valentronic]

Chapter 7! After a very very too long hiatus oops >_>

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[automatonknight]

id: a photo of a patch drawn in black ink on a white cloth. it shows a simple, humanoid robot playing an electric guitar next to two speakers. the robot is grinning, one of its legs is bent and the other is propped up on one of the speakers. its wearing sunglasses, headphones and black boots end id

[witchofthesouls]

I like thinking about humans-into-Cybertronians because of the weird, alien fuckery along with ex-humans making connections to certain things because it's the closest approximation they have.

Imagine if 'running on fumes' is a literal statement among Cybertronians. As their tanks run near empty, there's a petroleum-like taste that lingers in their sinuses and, if left long enough, cycles out of their vents. That's why Cybertronians typically don't like hanging around gas stations because it's a really stark reminder of long-term starvation. Meanwhile, you got an ex-human going like, "Man, I'm starting to taste gas, so I need gas. Huh, y'all have built-in reminders to feed yourself outside of hunger pains? That's neat."

As well as the ex-humans misdiagnosing themselves. Let's take Cybertronian carriage. Humans are used to a pregnancy that completes its course in a designated organ (aka womb), so finding out a mecha had straight up knocked them up that bypassed the initial spark-to-spark teether formation wouldn't freak them out in the ways that a lot of Cybertronians would be really concerned about. Especially the medics and said partner(s).

Ex-human crying over the sonogram because they got told it's a very high-risk pregnancy and all they see is the coming baby is very deformed since it's only a ball within a ball of green soup and silver tendrils. Partner is highly confused yet attempts comforting in varying levels of success.

Cybertronian medic needs to explain that the sparklet is healthy, but ex-human really needs to watch themselves because the entire process will be done within the gestational chamber and goes deep into explaining the complications that can happen.

Partner is absolutely riveted by all the gravity of the matter since the strain of having a full-carriage that initialized in the chamber can put the carrier in danger as there can be coding conflicting with priorities that rends said carrier unconscious or wrecks health complications, especially since there's a high-chance of the newspark not fully detaching from their carrier's spark as the dropping process ensures.

Ex-human that comes from a species where a pregnancy is like getting into a moderate crash, so damage varies each time is happy that they haven't fucked up badly yet and can plan a baby shower. "By the way, when's the due date?"

Medic: "Hard to say with the carriage combined, but it's more in the primary initialization stage. The sparklet's still has a visible, if a bit thin, teether to your spark, and a solid mass hasn't formed yet."

Ex-human: "Okay, so how long?"Medic says incomprehensible length of time for an Earth child and how it can vary.

*Confused ex-human noises over the several human lifetimes is the equivalent of a span to a Cybertronian carriage. And how multiple factors can impact the timeframe.*

*Confused Medic noises out of sheer concern over ex-human's family history, especially over the fact they have extremely and highly dangerously short carriages.*

*Confused partner noises on why their love wants to plan a bathtime for the newspark at this moment, and wonders if ex-human knows that water and infant Cybertronians do not mix.*

Or, another thing. What if the dropping process where the sparklet detaches from the carrier's spark to descend into the gestational chamber below to build its frame has very 'classic'** heart symptoms in a human body?

(** Quick heads up, much of human biology and modern medical understanding derives from male biology. Unfortunately, women usually see atypical symptoms that are more subtle, moderate rather than severe pain/discomfort, or pain in other other locations rather than the chest.)

Ex-human has sudden, excruciatingly chest pain, insides literally quivering and shifting in sync with the bursts. Meanwhile, everyone around them is calm, trying to soothe them, and they think they're honestly dying so fast because there's no rush to the nearby hospital, and everyone is pushing comfort-it's okay-we got you at them.

[soupmanspeaks]

Michael Ao3 author AU walk with me here

"hey guys sorry I havent posted much on the Immortal and the Restless fic, I had to do this one errand my father sent me on, its actually a funny story; my dead sister actually possesed this big robot clown that killed her, and I had to like, put her scattered parts back together again, it was a whole thing, but yeah, her murder AI kind of just took over and she tricked me into being a meat suit, so that kind of sucked, and im actually organless atm, so sorry for slower updates, but it is what it is yk"

And then wayyyy later "heyyyyy what's up superstars, sorry for the long hiatus, my soul got put into a robot bear, but that's all taken care of, so chapter 27 soon :3"

[kobadit]

Rogue City was so good, you guys

[robo-writing]

I've noticed your writing for Logan x Reader and holy crap it's making my heart do funny dances ^-^

I'm curious, your thoughts on a touch starved Logan that's either too stubborn and/or grumpy to ask for intimacy in a non-sexual way with Reader-- thankfully Reader is patient and even asks him if he wants to be either the big or small spoon when they cuddle for the first time

And poor Logan- not knowing what that is until Reader explains it and he's able to decide??

Just curious--

I believe that Logan’s so touch-starved that he doesn’t even recognize it as such. What I mean is that he’s slept with so many people and it never does much for him, so he gets confused when you two start dating and he feels his heart skip a beat when you take your hand in his. It’s not necessarily that he’s stubborn, it’s just that he doesn’t know what he wants.

Maybe you make an offhand comment about it, something along the lines of “you’re so touchy” that it starts to process in his mind that he can’t remember the last time he had someone touch him that wasn’t sexual in nature. It makes him appreciate you that much more because you don’t rush him into doing anything, you see him as a person rather than a walking sex ad. Hugs, kisses, all of it makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

He really becomes conflicted when it comes to cuddling because he’s not a cuddler. You invite him to your bed and he’s standing at the edge of it confused until you grab his hand and tug him lightly. “Come on, get over here,” you say, and he lets you pull him next to you.

It’s awkward for sure, he doesnt know where to put his hands initially but as time goes on and he feels you relax in his arms he sees himself doing this more often. At first he starts off as a big spoon, of course—he’s bigger, he’s supposed to protect you and blah blah blah until one night you slide into bed right behind him, your arms locked around his torso.

You nuzzle into his back, legs tangled with his, fingers drumming against his stomach—he’s enveloped by the smell of your body wash as his eyes flutter shut, a sudden wave of calm washing over him. It’s the best sleep he’s gotten in his life.

You notice of course, but you don’t say anything about it.

The next night is the same, but this time you have him facing you, head against your chest while you bury your face in his hair. There’s a single look of acknowledgement passed between you two, a knowing smile on your lips before he concedes, letting himself fall asleep in your arms.

From then on, it’s an unofficial rule that he’s the little spoon.

[robo-drake09]

Working on a banger hc post for all the Brawlers with what kind of merch they'd have. Here's a small snippet so far:

[valentronic]

Waking the monster

Chapter 3 - "Out come the knives"

In which Will and Mike both discover something unnerving.. and Henry remains in the dark.

Fredbear’s Family Diner. The place where it all fell apart. How could a place so lively hold such tragedy?

William Afton walked through the closed off diner, past the tables with festive tablecloths, past the bloodstains on the stage that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he scrubbed it. He remembered when this place was alive, children running around happily, gazing up at Bonnie and Fredbear with wonder in their tiny eyes. That all seemed like decades ago now, even if it had only been months. 

This used to be a place of joy. 

What was it now?

He walked through the door to the back rooms, the happy, cheery atmosphere falling way to the dark corridors, the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. It was almost like walking between worlds. The bright outer shell of an animatronic, and the cruel machinery underneath. 

Will was absently scratching at the scars on his neck, despite being told not to. It itched horribly, even with the stitches removed. He ignored the way the scabs burst. He ignored the sticky blackness staining the collar of his shirt. It didn’t matter. 

He opened the door to the workshop. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Fredbear was gone.

“Why…”  It was an overwhelming feeling of dread. Dread and nothing more. He really was gone this time, wasn’t he. 

Henry had been here last. 

Of course, of course he wouldn’t be content to take him away once, but again, right after Will finally had him back. It was like a taunt, wasn’t it? Dangle hope in front of his face, only to rip it away before he can reach out and take it. 

His fingernails dug into the flesh of his arms, tearing away at the scabbed over scarring, but it just didn’t matter. 

He’s gone. 

“At least you’re still here buddy, isn’t that right?” Will picked up the head of his springlock suit, surprised to find that Henry had cleaned most of the blood from the internal machinery, even if the yellow fur was stained red around the seams. 

“How cruel, he took your partner away from you, didn’t he? I'm so sorry, Bonnie. We’re gonna make this right, aren’t we?” He lightly moved the head up and down, so it looked as if the animatronic was nodding. 

“That’s what I thought!” 

—

“Hey da-” Micheal paused in the doorway to the kitchen, frozen in place at the sight of the golden head on his father’s shoulders, long rabbit ears sticking up in the air. “...d..?”

“Hmm?” Will turned around to look at him, holding a kitchen knife in his hand, the ears flopped along with his movements, but Micheal could see familiar silver eyes through the mask. 

“...What are you… doing..?”

“Just making Lizzie a sandwich, do you want one?” Sure enough, he had all the proper sandwich ingredients laid out, the sandwich cut neatly into triangles, just how Elizabeth liked it. 

“N-no, I’m good.” Mike quickly turned away, walking back to his room. 

“Alright then, have fun fending for yourself.” He laughed. 

Mike looked back over his shoulder at the laughing rabbit, resolving not to let this one slide. “So… What’s with the bunny mask..?”

“What was that?” He tilts his head, finally putting the knife down on the counter. 

“..Nothing.” 

—

“So! What do you think?” 

“I like the ideas you have here, with the new bandmates, but maybe we should change the colors, instead of them all being gold?” Henry looked over the designs Will had drawn out, pleased with what was there. The chicken and fox would be great additions to the band. 

At least he hadn’t tried to use springlock suits again. 

“Hmm.. You’re right! Oooh, we could make Bonnie purple!” 

“Purple? Why purple?” 

“Well it’s my favorite color, obviously.” Will laughed. 

“Fair enough. Freddy could be a brown bear, and Chica could have yellow feathers…” 

He nods. “And then Foxy could be red, it’s Micheal’s favorite color.” 

“Perfect.” Henry smiles, it felt like forever since he got to actually make something with Will. He missed it. 

“Now we just have to put them together- and I could see us reopening in just another year! New and improved!” Will was smiling, in a genuine way this time, Henry hadn’t seen that smile since before…

“Hey, Will, here’s a bit of an odd request-” 

“Hmm?” 

Henry took a photograph out of his pocket, showing it to Will. It was a picture of Charlie, holding in her arms a small stuffed toy, like a Raggedy Ann doll painted to resemble a mime. “It’d mean a lot to her if we could maybe create something that looked like that doll. I’m not sure if it's even possible, but I want to try.” 

William thought to himself for a moment, considering how to make an animatronic with such a thin frame, and on a more humanoid base, too.. “What if it was suspended from the ceiling by wires attached to its limbs, like a marionette?” 

“That might just work..” 

“No way to tell but to test it, right?” 

“Right.” He looked up at Will with a smile, though his face fell at the sight of the grisly scars around his neck. “...How are you feeling?” 

“Hmm? Oh-” Will adjusted the collar of his shirt slightly, trying to hide the circular scars, but it didn’t quite work. Why were there ink stains on his collar? “I’m fine, it’s just a bit itchy, doesn’t even hurt anymore!” That, of course, was a lie. 

It finally clicked for Henry why the other man was wearing his work gloves the whole time. “At least you didn’t lose any motor function in your hands, these sketches are just as good as they’ve always been.” 

“Why thank you-!” He took out another sheet of paper, and started sketching ideas for the new animatronic. “What should we name it?”

“Puppet, that’s what Charlie calls it.”

Will wrote ‘Puppet’ over the sketch in cursive. “Done.” 

“She’ll love it. Thank you, Will.” 

“Of course, you still gotta help me build the thing!” 

“Hah, I will, don’t worry.” 

— 

“I think something’s wrong with dad.” 

“What do you mean? Is he sick?” Elizabeth looked up at him with wide eyes, the green such a contrast to Micheal and William’s gray eyes. Everyone knew she wasn’t blood related, they didn’t have to ask. 

“You mean you haven’t noticed?? He’s been acting super weird, like, weirder than usual, didn’t you see that mask?” 

“What mask?” 

“You- you haven’t seen it? 

“Didn’t you always wear a mask around too?” 

“Well yeah but- this is different! Mine’s just plastic- that one’s like, a whole animatronic’s head!”

“Oh, like one of those springy suits!” 

“A what?” 

“It’s like an animal-tronic but you can wear it like a costume!” 

“Springlocks. It’s springlocks.” Mike’s face goes a little pale, thinking back to what Henry said. Springlock failure, that’s what put his dad in the hospital, that’s what that bunny is. Springlocks. The damn thing’s a deathtrap and he’s wearing it around like it’s nothing. 

Maybe he really has gone mental. 

“Springlocks! That’s what it was! Daddy says Bonnie and Fredbear are both springlock suits!”

Mike shuddered. Fredbear. He didn’t want to think about that giant yellow bear ever again. Hopefully dad destroyed the damned thing, ripped it to shreds, burnt it to the ground, whatever it took. 

“I hope they never reopen. I’d be happy if I never had to see another damned robot!” 

“That’s not very nice!” 

“I don’t care.” He stuck out his tongue. 

“Mikey, you’re not very nice.” 

“I know.” 

—

Henry Emily was performing on stage again, behind the guise of a golden bear, singing a familiar song, all with William Afton- no- Bonnie at his side, playing the guitar. The children in the audience cheered, their bright eyes focused on the two of them. 

He could hear the locks snap open, one by one, methodical clinks as the gears unwound into his flesh. 

The children all froze, staring at the blood seeping out of Fredbear’s fur. 

Henry screamed out, but it was already much too late, he knew it was, but why wasn’t Will doing anything? 

“H-help…” It was getting hard to speak, hard to even keep screaming, the springs choked his throat. 

William was laughing, the ears on his matching mask bobbing up and down with the motion. 

Children screamed in the audience, some running away, others just staring up, in a state of shock. 

Henry felt a hand on his arm, a small one, like that of a child. 

“Daddy?” 

“C..Char..lie..?”

“Wake up!” 

Henry slowly opened his eyes, before jolting awake suddenly, relieved to find himself back in his bed, and not torn to ribbons inside a springlock suit. 

“Were you having nightmares again?” Charlie was looking up at him in the dark, holding onto his arm with one hand, and her puppet doll with the other. 

“..I was, but I’m okay now. Thanks for waking me up.” 

She shoves the doll into his arms, trying to get him to take it. “Puppet will keep all the scary dreams away.” 

He laughs softly, handing it back to her. “I’ll be okay, you need him more than I do.” 

“Okay… But next time you’re having bad dreams, promise you’ll take him!” 

“I promise.” 

[robo-cryptid]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada Characters: Hanzo Shimada, Cole Cassidy (Overwatch) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Horror, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Meet-Ugly, Enemies to Lovers, Vampire Hanzo Shimada, Witch Cole Cassidy, Power Play, the working title for this fic was 'a century of brat taming', Immortality, Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 10 of Halloween Vibes Summary:

Hanzo kneels in his invisible prison, waiting to discover who or what could have the audacity to have trapped him.

Finally, a man approaches, or something shaped like one.

He is in black from his pointed hat to the toes of his leather boots. One eye glints, reflective like an animal’s in the night. Most of his left arm is knitted from magic and bone, glowing red like the blood moon above. “Well, aren’t you a surprise?” he asks, his voice deep and musical.

[kreachvera]

redraw of this panel of Faust House (READ FAUST HOUSE RAAAAHHHHH)

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

Here’s the cover I (just) drew for the story. For context, the prompt was to “write something extraordinary from an ordinary moment in your day”, and I got the idea to write about black licorice taffy.

I didn’t like it at all. But despite not liking it I exaggerated my reaction for the story.

Also, it’s in Enid’s point of view. Enjoy.

—————————————————————————

Licorice.

It seems innocent enough, but that’s how it gets you.

Like how it got me, Enid P., in the summer of… well, no. It was yesterday.

And in the form of taffy, too!

…I should backtrack.

It all started when my co-detective, Lou, brought home one of those small bags of saltwater taffy from the local carnival. Ribbon and all.

There were many flavors present. Strawberry. Chocolate. The striped one.

Of course, I was delighted. I was about as delighted as a kid with candy. Which fits, considering the candy part.

I ripped open the bag, about a dozen little candies scattering in this way and that. I took a few and popped them into my mouth. I noticed my partner separating some of the striped candies away from the pile.

“What are you doing that for?” I ask him.

“Black licorice,” he replies. “I don’t like it.”

I look at him, shocked.

“Don’t like it?! How could you not?”

“Well, do you want them?”

“Eh…”

I ponder the question. It looks like I had given the false impression of liking the sweets. Truth was, I had never had a licorice flavored item in my entire life, let alone a licorice taffy.

But I figure: why not? If I’ve never had it in my life, and he’s giving it to me, I could seize this opportunity and try something I hadn’t! Who knows, it could be the best thing ever.

Plus, it was a kind gesture. I’d be an idiot to turn down a kind gesture!

“You don’t have to ta-“

I took the candies from his hand. A puzzled look crossed his face.

As I unwrapped the candies, I thought crossed my mind. Lou cooks himself. He cooks some pretty darn good stuff. So, him giving up a candy would mean it’s a terrible candy, given his experience, right?

Nah.

The candy had a peculiar smell. It smelled sweet, but it also smelled charred. It was lined with black stripes on white candy with a small raised “T” in the middle that indicated the brand.

Slowly, I popped the candy into my mouth, and chewed. At first, it didn’t taste like anything. At most, I could just taste the chewy texture.

But then, it hit me.

The flavor.

The terrible, terrible flavor.

It was bitter. VERY bitter. I couldn’t describe the exact flavor. It felt as though a paint roll of bitter had been slathered on my tongue.

I gagged.

“Are you okay?” Lou asked.

I ran to a trashcan and spat it out. But that didn’t stop its terror. It had coated my tongue. I could still taste it.  I wiped my tongue off. It was still there.

I gagged again.

I rushed to the sink and filled a glass with water. I sipped. But the water tasted like the candy.

I gave up.

I flopped on the floor, helpless. Waited for the flavor to pass.

Lou came into the kitchen after a few minutes.

“Enid, calm down.”

“IT’S BAAAAD.”

“I know. I told you already.”

He placed the cup in the sink.

“Please get up now, though. I think you’re getting the floor wet.”

He walked out.

I sat up.

And that was when my hatred began.

So now? I don’t touch licorice. I know it was yesterday, but my point still stands. I will never, EVER touch another licorice flavored candy again.

And- oh. Hey. Someone left a box at the door.

I wonder what it could…

Oh no.

[toastedclownery]

The god hunt/five sun theory started with "why are Tyneen's pirate crew and ship the same animals as Poseidon's court" and three months later it's at "I think Lariat is gonna (try to) kill everyone"

[wutwutno1]

Read screenshot and tags before reading.

You have been warned.

Everything hurt.

Doll slowly trudged forward. Every part of her body ached and throbbed, but she had to keep going, less that... thing caught her again.

The doll pressed her hand firmly against her open abdomen, trying to keep her internal components and oil inside. Her breathing was rough and raspy. Doll continued to march forward. Maybe Uzi N and V would take pity on her and help. . .

Doll walked into an enormous cathedral. To her right was a massive flesh pit to Robo-god knows where. Doll walked between the pews and saw… Uzi! 

Uzi was right there! She just had to reach her, but her body was failing fast. Warnings and alerts pinged her vision. 

Warning! Low oil pressure!

Warning! Components missing!

Warning! Compartment breach! 

Warning! Shut-down imminent!

Shut Down: 3. . .

Wait! No!

2. . .

Uzi’s right there!

1. . .

Hurry!

Doll’s vision went dark. The last thing she saw was her vision turning sideways as she fell to the floor, still focused on Uzi. 

. . .

Doll woke up what felt like days later. Her head hurt and she felt… different. . .

She opened her eyes, or rather eye. Doll looked up to see the inside of her ribcage. Her eye widened and she tried to move.

Doll felt like she had three limbs, but they were all stuck on something. She tugged at them with all her might. She could hear Uzi’s voice, and someone else’s. Was it N’s? She couldn’t tell. Her mind was too focused on getting free. 

Doll looked up as she felt a shadow cover her, and her eye widened in fear.

It was that thing that attacked her earlier. Doll’s eye hollowed as she realized it was the first solver host Lizzy texted her about during one of V’s rants with her. It was Cyn, wearing the skin of a girl she couldn’t recognize. Was that the real Tessa? 

Cyn dropped down to its knees. Its face drew close. Doll wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Doll watched on in horror as Cyn opened its mouth and grabbed the top of Doll’s new form with it. She felt it tug hard and rip her from her corpse. 

Doll felt her limbs were free, but not knowing how to move them could only watch as Cyn swallowed her whole, slurping her limbs like spaghetti.

Doll felt sick. The soft robotic flesh slowly pulling her down was disorienting. She audibly groaned. The first sound she figured out how to make, and was disgusted at being swallowed. Normally, she enjoyed being swallowed. She spent her fair share inside Lizzy and Rebecca. She recently spent some time in J. She even spent time in N! But this was different. It felt as if the flesh of whoever was killed for Cyn's flesh suit had completely fused with the drone. 

Doll slid into Cyn’s stomach. She was covered in slimy oil and groaned again. Doll wiggled her new tentacle legs around, trying to elicit a response and figure out how to use them, but got no reaction. However, she figured out how they worked, and didn’t like it. 

Doll sighed and looked around. It looked like every other drone’s stomach, however she noticed there was flesh mixed in as well. It was gross. Doll could hear the normal squelches, groans, and gurgles, but they sounded different. They sounded real.

“So the flesh runs deep,” Doll thought, “Great.”

Doll sat for robo-god knows how long before she heard something. A voice in the void. It sounded like Cyn’s voice when she was disguised as “Tessa,” but younger? 

“So it got you too, huh?” 

The voice echoed around Doll. Overpowering the sounds of the stomach. Doll glanced around frantically, trying to find the source, but couldn’t see anything. 

“Кто ты? Покажи себя!” (Who are you? Show yourself!) Doll shouted at the voice.

The voice giggled and a glowing projection appeared before Doll, only instead of a pale blue tint, it was pure white. The space got cold and Doll shivered. 

It looked like the girl whose skin Cyn was wearing, only she looked more alive. She had real eyes and her proportions were normal instead of stretched. She looked at Doll with a warm smile.

“I’m Tessa! The real Tessa.”

“T-Tessa? Что? Как?” (What? How?) 

Doll was confused. Tessa could see that and huddled up next to Doll.

“I’m a ghost! Or something. I don’t know. I think I’m still alive, just fused with Cyn. She’s in control, of course. So I kinda just hang around!”

Doll was weirded out. She is the human? And she’s a ghost? This whole situation is weird.

“Как ты можешь меня понять? А вы знаете русский язык?” (How can you understand me? Do you know Russian?)

Tessa laughed and smiled.

“No, but since I’m merged with Cyn I have that auto-translate feature all drones have. So when you say something I hear it in English! Just like how you hear me in Russian!”

Doll rolled her eye. This situation just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“Это отстой.” (This Sucks.) 

“Tell me about it. Well, we have nothing but time here. Do you want to talk or something?” Doll sighed. There’s really not much else she could do inside this half-human, half-drone stomach. Doll pulls up a program from her system, one she had installed a long time ago and one she used in every stomach she’s ever been in. The program Doll’s mother had passed onto Doll from her days at Cabin Fever Labs; Tetris.

Doll settled into a corner of the stomach, the organ releasing a small squelch as she did. Doll read her previous high score, 9.1795851e+21. Only 23 times smaller than Yeva’s high score of 2.1113046e+23. However, in fairness to Doll, this is the first time she’s ever been forcefully stuck somewhere for an extended length of time. 

Tessa noticed Doll wasn’t responding to her, so she looked over to see Doll with a 1000-yard stare and a small Tetris logo in the corner of her round eye visor. 

“I can see you’re playing Tetris, uh. . . I never got your name.”

“Doll.”

“Doll. I can see you’re playing Tetris. Can I watch?” 

Doll rolled her eye. She was a little annoyed by Tessa’s presence, but she could at least indulge her for a bit. It would be nice to actually have someone to talk to for the first time since… prom? That was too long ago. After that, she had only ever interacted with the fake Tessa and J, but only on business and only briefly.

Doll switched her game from private to public, replacing her eye with the game she was playing. Tessa sat on her knees in the stomach, phasing through just a bit with her ghostly status to get a better angle. Tessa watched in amazement as Doll racked up a higher and higher score within seconds. Tessa could barely process the speed at which Doll played, but she kept watching. This is the first real interesting thing she could watch that wasn’t violent or disturbing. 

“Wow, Doll. You’re really good at this!” 

Doll was stunned, although her visor didn’t show it. It had been a while since anyone had complimented her on anything, and the last person to do so had chosen her parent’s killer over her. 

“Я. . . Спасибо. . .” (I. . . Thank you. . .)

And so they sat. Tessa watching as Doll played Tetris for hours. Doll’s score grew larger and larger as time went on until she eventually went too fast for her system, ending up with a score of 1.0556523e+22, 20 times less than Yeva’s high score. An improvement.

Doll sighed and looked around. Everything looked the same, but it was nice to look away from a game to get your head straight. Tessa still sat in front of Doll, not looking any more tired than when Doll first started. 

“Ты не устал?” (Aren’t you tired?) 

“Nah. I’m a ghost thing! I don’t need sleep, or get tired, or anything! I do sleep in here though, just to break up my day, week, whatever.”

Doll thought about it for a second. It made sense. Tessa wasn’t alive in the traditional way, so why expect her to have the same needs? However, that did make her curious.

“Если ты призрак, можешь ли ты владеть вещами? Как я?” (If you’re a ghost, can you possess stuff? Like me?”

Tessa looked up in thought. 

“I never really thought about that. Then again, I never had the chance to try. Would you mind?” Tessa gestured to Doll, and Doll shrugged her tentacles.

“Мне интересно узнать, сможешь ли ты. Ты можешь попытаться ��владеть мной.” (I'm curious to find out if you can. You may try and possess me.)

Tessa floated to Doll like the ghost she was. Tessa took a deep breath and flew into Doll. Doll began to feel cold and like there was another person in her head. Doll’s visor color changed from red to pink, a mix of Doll’s red and Tessa’s white. She tried to move her limbs, but couldn’t. It’s like she was—

“No way!”

Doll watched her limbs move like a human checking their hands. 

“It worked, Doll!”

“Ты овладел мной?” (You possessed me?)

“I possessed you!”

Tessa moved Doll’s limbs around, feeling around the belly of Cyn. 

“Это круто, но можешь ли ты—” (That’s cool, but can you—)

“This is so cool! This feels so weird! It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything! I love it!”

While Tessa was as happy as a kid on Christmas, Doll watched on silently. It annoyed her to have her body used like this, but at least this possessor wasn't trying to end life as we know it. 

“Doll, I wonder if I can... Yes!”

Tessa pulled up Tetris on Doll’s system. Doll watched in surprise and intrigue as Tessa began playing. It only took Tessa a few minutes to lose with a score of only a few thousand, but she was excited.

“That was so much fun! I can’t believe I can— Oops! S-sorry, Doll. I didn’t mean to take so long…”

Tessa quickly unpossessed Doll, which was surprisingly easy to her. Doll’s eye returned to red. Doll sighed and moved her limbs to make sure she was in control. Doll turned to look at Tessa, who had an apologetic expression on her face.

“Sorry again for—”

“Все в порядке.” (It’s fine.)

“But—”

“Его. Отлично.” (It’s. Fine.)

“Okay.”

“Хотите сыграть еще раз?” (Want to play again?)

Tessa’s eyes lit up and she enthusiastically nodded her head yes and quickly repossessed Doll.

Doll and Tessa would go on to take turns playing until Doll was eventually rescued from Cyn’s stomach by N and Uzi. Doll would allow Tessa to possess her right before her rescue, freeing Tessa from Cyn and allowing her to live among the drones as a free spirit, able to roam where she pleased. 

Exactly one year after Cyn’s defeat and the rescue of Doll and Tessa, Tessa would be presented with a worker drone body by Doll for her to have as a permanent body. When Tessa possessed her new body, she found a small 1.3 gigabyte file in a folder named, “For Tessa, From Doll.” The file name read,

Tetris.exe