#come to my HOUSE and look at my CREATURES

[symbiomancy]

scientific curiosity —frankenstein's monster

—summary: You created him. You patched him together from pieces of humans and beasts - lost your license to practice medicine and your PhD for that. He should not look at you and lust. But he does. | 1.8k | AO3 | monster masterlist

—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, handjob, implied mating cycle/heat, thigh fucking, rutting.

The creature has an affinity for music. That fact is not even near the most fascinating thing you’ve discovered about him, but it is a very pleasant one. He taps the keys of the piano with grace, despite his size. Mozart today, huh?

“Your motor skills are improving at an incredible rate,” you say more to yourself as you scribble furiously into your notebook. The creature voices a grunt of approval as he stares at the sheet music propped up in front of him. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back for selecting such a fine brain.

You cannot deny his improvement at everything, really. He’d graduated from picture books to children’s books within two days, to classical novels and medical books within a week. Getting him acclimated to his size had been a challenge at first but it has been leaps and bounds from those days. Writing, string instruments, key instruments, all of it, a truly incredible progress. There’s only a handful of things you’ve yet to ask.

“Any sexual desire?”

His fingers stumble on the keys.

You whip around, one arm slung over the back of the chair and push so the legs screech loudly against the wooden floor. There’s a grin on your face, pen in a death grip in your hand. “Care to elaborate?” You blindly reach for the notebook still on the table, eyes fixed on his large frame, at the way he hunches over, staring firmly at the sheet music.

“No.”

“Well, it is fall,” you muse, raise your elbow to lean it against the chair backrest, pen tapping against your bottom lip. “And I did have to supplement some parts for beast parts.”

“Hadn’t even noticed.” He thumps a foot against the ground. Griffin’s hind legs. Could’ve used the wings but taking too much from one body would’ve created too much suspicion.

“I really thought a vampire’s hand would, y’know react to warm blood — a mistake on my part, I’ll admit it. But,” your grin widens even further, “fascinating how a werewolf’s knot is still a knot even if you cut it off. Does the full moon affect it in any way?”

Your creation glares at you from across the room.

“What? Scientific curiosity.”

“You had your PhD and medical license revoked for…” he takes a deep breath and takes his hands from the piano keys to motion to himself, “me.” There’s a hint of something in his tone, something that borders on disgust. You file that away to discuss at a later time. “It’s why we’re out here. Hiding.”

“There are worse reasons to lose a doctorate for. And I was a scientist while creating you. So, scientist. Now, answer my question, please?”

The creature gently pulls down the key lid on the piano, stands, and wordlessly leaves the room.

He doesn’t come down for dinner.

You stare at the vacant seat on the other side of the dinner table with a frown. His plating is untouched, steam rising from the potato stew where he usually sits. There is no creaking in the house, nothing to signal he’s coming down. You eat alone and place his meal into the still-warm oven.

His door is closed. You stand there for a while, mulling over your words, trying to string together an apology. Should you wax something long together? An explanation? Run-on sentences to try to justify your innate curiosity at your creation’s physiological state? Nothing sounds right. Nothing sounds like enough.

“I’m sorry… for asking like that. I got carried away. It wasn’t proper of me. There’s um,” you clear your throat, “I left your plate in the oven. Heat it up if you get hungry. Good night.”

You stand at the door for another prolonged moment, trying to catch any sound on the other side of the door. It’s faint, barely there, but you can make out his breathing, slow and steady. At least he’s still here. But you decide not to test your luck any further tonight and retreat to your own room, leaving the door slightly ajar. It doesn’t fit into the frame quite correctly, anyway.

Maybe he’ll at least go downstairs for dinner later.

He stands in front of your door, staring at the small sliver of moonlight that pours into the dark hallway. There are too many loud thoughts in his head, racing and colliding. His skin feels ill-fitting, a heat simmering underneath it. You ask too many questions, he thinks — has thought since he left you in the study alone to hide away in his room with the blinds drawn and his cock in hand — too many questions that prod all the right places.

It’s in your nature. You were a scientist. And a doctor with an intricate web of knowledge about the human (and creature) body. He shouldn’t fault you for asking.

While you were downstairs eating dinner alone, he had his cock in hand — not a wholly new experience but a new-ish one — stroking it over the low bathroom sink. He’d tried, tried thinking of other things but nearly all of his experiences are tied to you and your presence. So he keeps coming back to you. Your pretty face, your smile, the light in your eyes when you ask him about his body, his psyche to scribble into your umpteenth notebook all about him.

Even now with his pants undone, cock hanging out, already (or still) hard, he thinks of you. He stares at you through the crack in the door, soundly asleep in your bed. The covers are tucked tightly over your body but legs exposed to the fall chill. It’s not right, he thinks, he should at least tuck you in before you get a cold.

He pushes the door open slowly. It creaks a short, aborted squeak and you shift in bed, pull the blanket tighter against yourself. The creature steps forward, carefully placed footfalls dancing around the one creaking floorboard right at the entrance, long slow strides taking him to the foot of your bed. You shuffle again, and for a moment he thinks this is it, you’re awake, but you turn onto your back, kick at the blanket with one foot.

You are… enticing like this, he finds. He thinks that’s what this feeling is. All he has to compare it to is the novels he’s read over and over and over again.

He grabs onto your ankles with his warm hand, touch featherlight, and gently, slowly, pulls you forward. The end of your nightgown catches against the sheets, drags further up the closer you get to him. He has the anatomical knowledge of the human body — he’s read every book in the house several times over no matter if fiction or an anatomy book, he’s effectively memorized all the illustrations, if not the texts themselves.

His fingers trace the expanse of your skin, gently knead into the flesh. He can name the muscles and the tendons, the nerves at the crook of your knee. He’s spent countless hours staring at the illustrations, even the more… explicit ones. He’s curious — you’ve rubbed off on him — but it’s dark. Instead, he stares at the gap between your thighs. It’s inviting, just perfect for him to slip his cock through. It jerks at the thought, precum dribbling from the tip.

You blink slowly. The room is dark, save for the moonlight filtering in through the window above your head. In front of you, right at the foot of the bed stands a tall figure, hand wrapped around your ankles, resting against his shoulder. Your brain jogs the existence of your creation before you startle involuntarily. He startles too, nearly dropping his grip on your ankles.

“Everything alright?” You ask. The fall chill bites at your thighs and oh.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing his body against the back of your legs. Something hot and heavy, wet presses between your thighs. The tip of his cock presses between your thighs, forward and backward. Slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You stare at it for a moment, then press your thighs together.

The creature groans and thrusts forward, hips assuming a sloppy pace. He’s tall and wide and big and that’s how you built him. The bed rocks with his thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall, scraping at the paint. His cock plunges between your things, smears precum onto your skin, slick and wet and loud. The sound of his cock plunging between your slick thighs is nearly deafening in the silent house. Your own arousal curls under your skin but you file it away to stare at him.

This… this is not what you had in mind when you first came up with this (quite possibly very stupid, very illegal, medically and scientifically (not to mention ethically) dubious) idea. It cost you your license and your reputation, sent you into exile. You don’t regret it on the worst of days but especially not right now.

His cold hand wraps nearly wholly around your thigh and you clench around his cock involuntarily. Your muscles jerk from the sudden chill. He groans and his hips stutter for a moment, stumble in their sloppy rhythm before he regains whatever shred of his composure is left and continues thrusting. The bulb at the bottom of his shaft is engorged, knocking against your clit with every thrust. You can’t even focus on that, just on the beads of precum dribbling from the tip of his cock, smearing against your thighs as he pulls nearly all the way back. When he thrusts towards you, pearly droplets fly, splatter against your wrinkled nightgown.

He pulls you into him, hips slamming against your thighs. The metal bed frame screeches at something, you can’t even react as he thrusts forward one last time. He cums with a guttural growl that reverberates in your own chest, thighs pressing against yours, hips jerking forward. Ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock, land on your torso. You reach out, wrap a hand around the enormous cock to jerk him off, prolong his orgasm, milk him for everything he has to offer. There’s a hiss from the back of his throat as you work him empty, splattering onto your stomach and chest, even your chin. It’s warm and sticky and it sinks into your cotton nightgown, clings to your skin.

His breathing is erratic once his large frame stops shaking. His chest expands and constricts against your legs, nails digging small crescents into your ankles. Your toes are cold from the forced position.

You reach down to the puddle of cum pooling on your stomach and draw a heart into it with a small giggle.

The creature looks up from his mess tentatively, brow furrowed and lips jutted into a hopeful smile.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’ll have you know I picked out every part of you according to my personal preferences.”

banners/dividers by @/cafekitsune

[rainbowpopeworld]

Image description below the cut

Screencap of black text on a white background.

In a suburban house in Paisley a wee boy was sticky-taping the leg of his oft-snapped spectodes back together. He couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been augmented with at least one area of peeling sellotape. Suddenly and quite without warning there was a rupture in the fobric of space and fime and a tall, skinny man tumbled through a wormhole in the middle of the living room and landed in a puddle of brown coat at the boy's feet.

"Who are you?" asked the boy. Confused and a little scared, but mostly loving it.

"Oh - oh, hello. If's you! I'm you... you're... me."

"Eh?" the boy asked. (Try as she might the boy's mother could not get him to say "pardon".)

"'m you. In your future. I'm thirty-eight years old."

Because he was eight the boy accepted this quite quickly. "Is that my coat then? Can I try it on?"

"No, no, no - " interrupted the skinny man, slightly disappointed his time-travelling was being greeted with so little wonderment. "This is my costume. These clothes are The Doctor's. In thirty years' time you get to play The Doctor. What do you think of that?!"

"Tom Baker leaves!" the boy boggled.

"Well.. yes, eventually - "

"And then I take over?"

"Not quite, no, there's a bit of time in between but....

"And that's what The Doctor wears?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

The boy took a moment to give this his full attention. "I prefer the scarf."

The skinny man looked a little crushed. "But this is really cool. People write about this outfit in newspapers and style magazines. This is geek chic!... But actually you're right; people never really get over the scarf."

"Are the monsters good?" the boy asked.

"Oh there are some great ones. And you get to fight the Daleks, and the Cybermen

" - and the Zygons?!"

"Erm, no, no not the Zygons. But loads of other ones that you'll love. And guess what... Sarah comes back! And K-9!"

"K-9 leaves too!!" the boy groaned.

"Well, yes but he comes back - with you. And there are loads of great companions. Some of them aren't even born yet - but they're just brilliant! And you won't believe this, but you know Bernard Cribbins from 'The Wombles'?"

" - and 'Jackanory' - "

" - and 'Jackanory', yes. Well he's in it too. You get to do all sorts of scenes with him."

"That's amazing!"

"It is."

"Why do I have to wait so long?" asked the boy.

"Eh? I mean, pardon?"

"You're really old."

"I don't think - well - not so - it's all relative. The skinny man protested.

"And how come your hair's all dark?" the wee boy asked.

"That just happens... round about twelve I think" The skinny man regarded his younger self. "Look there's quite a bit of stuff to get through first but hang in there. It's worth it. I promise. I can't tell you how much you'll love it."

"Really? Do I really get to be The Doctor?"

"You do. And listen - you are going to have: the best time of your life."

And with that the skinny man disappeared in a swirl of pulsing temporal vortex. The wee boy held his damaged glasses in front of his face as the wormhole blinked out of existence. That was unexpected, he thought. And pretty unlikely.

Then he turned his attention back to the sellotape and the glasses. 'The Creature From the Pit' Part Two was on later. He needed to be ready.

David John McDonald, 3rd November 1979/2009

Apparently David Tennant wrote this for a doctor who episode guide and it’s the cutest thing

https://welleyenever.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/doctor-who-series-4-specials-foreword-2.jpeg?w=840

girl NOT David Tennant writing doctor who fanfic about himself and himself 💀

[jessamine-rose]

Happy Cat Day ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

One day, I realized I’d unknowingly started a tradition of writing a holiday-themed Dottore fic for each year. Here’s the fourth installment for 2025, in celebration of Cat Day ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡

Note:: Modern AU where animal hybrids are treated like domestic pets, this drabble can be read as romantic or platonic

♡ 0.6 words under the cut ♡

♡ Truthfully, Zandik was not the pet you had in mind. But fate works in mysterious ways, and that’s how you found yourself welcoming the cat hybrid into your home. The adoption process was fairly easy, and he seemed agreeable to his new owner. Though he insisted on keeping his name—whether it came from a caretaker or himself, he wouldn’t say.

♡ Zandik may not have a pedigree, but such certificates don’t hold a candle to his individual traits. Fluffy ears and a long tail, the same shade of blue as his hair. An observant gaze colored in crimson. A high intelligence quotient, at least by hybrid standards.

♡ The first weeks are a matter of adjustment. At first, Zandik keeps to himself, exploring his new environment or focusing on his toys and books. Other times, you feel a familiar gaze on you as you go about your house. For safety reasons, he is forbidden from going outside but every so often, you’ll catch him brushing twigs and leaves out of his tail.

♡ The only time you are guaranteed his company is during mealtimes. That is when Zandik enters the dining room, sits across from you, and picks up his cutlery. The ideal hybrid diet is fish and poultry, cooked with simple techniques, and he always leaves behind an empty plate. Once, he snuck a few bites of your food, and you only found out after he got a stomachache.

♡ You aren’t the type to show off your pet, but it doesn’t stop you from dressing him up. Cravats, buttoned shirts, light blue gems, and—most importantly—his leather collar. The garments make him look extra sophisticated; though by the end of the day, they are disheveled from his daily activities. He is able to pull off an open collar and rolled-up sleeves rather well.

He is an enigmatic creature, really, giving and withholding affection as he sees fit.

♡ On good days, Zandik will wordlessly enter your room and demand cuddles from you. Many nights, he will forgo his king-sized bed in favor of sleeping in yours. Every time you leave for work, he follows you to the front door with downturned ears. When you return, he either greets you in a polite manner or is caught hiding the evidence of his mischief.

♡ Zandik certainly lives up to his IQ results. He likes to play subtle tricks on you in order to get more cuddles and attention. The mice he catches are always…killed and played with in intricate ways. And who can forget the time you began seeing a red dot in the corner of your vision? That dot would always disappear in a second, leaving you to question your sanity. One day, it moved to the left and you quickly followed it…and that was when Zandik smugly revealed the laser pointer in his hand. You still don’t know how he got his hands on that device.

♡ There is also the time you woke up to find your pet missing and the backdoor unlocked. You spent the whole day searching for him, looking around the area and contacting acquaintances. Only when you returned, close to tears, did Zandik happily come out of his hiding place and say he wanted to see “the lengths his owner would go to find him.” He was put on timeout for that; but judging by his satisfied smile, his findings were worth it.

♡ It’s…nice to have him around, honestly. Thanks to Zandik, your home has become warmer, livelier. There is a certain comfort to be found in gazing at his photos in your phone screen and office cubicle, knowing he will be there to welcome you home. And that is why, on the day he asks you why you chose him, your answer is preceded with a fond smile.

♡

One of these days, I’ll figure out how to evict Dottore from my head. But until then, he shall continue to inflect my brain with ideas :’>

Anyway, Happy Cat Day!! I have no plans to continue this AU, but it was very fun to think of Dottore as a scheming cat hybrid. Also, fun fact, this post is scheduled for 02/22 at 2:22 a.m. JST!! Next year…let’s see which holiday will be celebrated with the wicked Doctor <3

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @boundinparchment @dawn-sky-collective

[moobloom-mention]

How Hard Is It to Keep a Clone Child Out of Trouble? (Extremely Hard, Apparently)

Summary: Y'know, for only being a few weeks into coparenting Lil Petey, Petey's gotta admit that he's beginning to get the hang of it. Now if only he could get Dogman to start taking it as seriously as he is.

Content Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 2048

Please accept this humble sacrifice, Dogman fandom. I am eternally in your debt.

----------

Y’know, for only being a few weeks into coparenting Lil Petey, Petey’s gotta admit he’d gotten pretty damn good at knowing what the kid got up to in his free time. 

Not that it’s exactly hard to figure out, the kid is his clone after all. Anything Petey had shown interest towards in his youth was bound to be explored too by Lil Petey- so far with a lot more enthusiasm than his past self had shown. 

Though there were a few twists and adjustments to the kid's interests. Like his favorite superhero being Spiderman instead of Batman. Or his favorite animal being a dog of all creatures. 

Ha! A dog. 

His eyes roll, the familiar itch of annoyance redirecting itself toward his latest attempt to shuffle a paper bag of groceries into the crook of his right arm. He grins pointedly as the bag finally slouches into his shoulder without a single item escaping. 

With his newly freed hand he dives impatiently into his coat's pocket, pawing at the fabric for the spare house key Dogman had given him a few weeks back. 

"In emergencies," the mutt had signed, a disgustingly pleasant smile on his face. 

It'd been a... surprisingly sweet gesture. One that Petey had easily disguised his shock beneath an angry shout of "-fine!" before he'd swiped the key from Dogman's hands. "Anything to get you off my back about it." 

And it had. Dogman never mentioned the house key's existence again. Not after Petey used it in the occasional emergency. Not whenever he used it to collect Lil Petey while Dogman was out. Hell, there wasn't even a knowing grin after Petey began to use it to come-and-go as he pleased. 

For once, the mutt had nothing to say. 

Good, Petey grunts to himself. Dogman already had too many opinions for someone with such a limited range of verbal speech. 

He lets himself grin at the thought as he refocuses on rummaging for the key. It really shouldn't be this difficult of a task; he's only got two pockets and he's pretty damn sure he put the spare in the left one. 

And yet every small object he feels within his coat seems to be everything but a key. 

The crinkling wrapper of something Petey's 98% sure is gum. 

An unfolded plastic paperclip for whatever strange reason. 

That monkey wrench he'd been looking everywhere for yesterday. 

For god's sake, a crayon?  

Petey's ears flatten. How many times had he asked Lil Petey to not wear his coat during playtime? 

He drags the collection of useless crap from his pocket, eyes scouring the pile to ensure he hadn't accidentally grabbed the key in his thinning patience. When that's proven futile he dumps the junk unceremoniously into his right coat pocket and returns for another search. 

Nothing. Nothing. Yet another crayon he somehow missed the first time. Nothing. Something that feels suspiciously like a key- 

"Ha-ha!" Petey cheers as his paw fastens around the key at last. He could almost kiss it if it weren't just in the world's saddest equivalent of a junk drawer. 

He settles for a less-disgruntled expression as he continues his walk back toward Dogman's house, tail flicking in the park's light breeze. He's got better things than kissing a key to worry about. Things like- 

Uh. What was it he'd been complaining about earlier? 

The key? Couldn't be, he'd just finished that tangent a moment ago. It had something to do with his clone. 

God, like the kid didn't take up enough of his thoughts already. Seriously, how on Earth did Grace ever raise him? His clone caused enough trouble even with parenting help from Dogman, he couldn't imagine going through it without assistance. 

She must've been a whole different animal to- 

Oh-ho, that's the one! Lil Petey's favorite animal. 

Again, Petey's eyes roll. Pfft, like a dog could ever be considered better than a cat. There were too many things to complain about, like how they shed everywhere and barked up a storm at anyone undeserving of it. Not to mention their tendency to stick their noses in places it didn't belong- both physically and metaphorically. 

But whatever, bygones be bygones and that whole mumbo-jumbo. Just because the kid's got an opinion doesn't mean he's right. 

Terrible choices in "favorite animals" aside, it still doesn't take away from the fact that Lil Petey was beginning to step in Petey's much heavier footprints in more ways than one. The kid was already inventing things left and right- whether it be some contraption, comic book, or obnoxiously catchy song. 

He can only hope that he'll be able to save the kid from his past spout of "teenage angst". Petey shudders. Yeah, he'd rather put up with an underwater adventure than go through that. 

Petey shakes the thought just as he's greeted with the familiar blue-tinted wood of the doghouse's front door. He stoops just barely low enough to fit the key into its lock, gaze flickering between the suspicious tilt of his grocery bag and the door. 

One of these days he'd get around to inventing and installing a cat-sized door. Or just bug Dogman about it until it got replaced. Whichever came first- which knowing the do-good mutt, was probably the latter. 

Finally he's able to twist the door knob, shuffling the grocery bag into both hands only after he's able to wedge a paw in the doorway. His foot nudges the door fully open to reveal the bright red carpeting of the entryway with Lil Petey and Dogman- 

Huh. Y'know what, maybe it'll take a few more weeks for him to fully grasp the mischief one small Petey can cause. Because where he'd expected the kid to be drawing, tinkering with something metal, or even just entertaining Dogman in a game of fetch, this is... 

Worse. So, so much worse. 

Lil Petey sits proudly atop Dogman's back at the end of the entryway, the mutt reared up on his hind legs not unlike that of a horse. The kitten's head is practically drowning in a cowboy hat that came from god-knows-where, a sight that Petey would usually burn into his memory before feigning annoyance over. 

But for once he can't. His shoulders remain square, rigid even as the door bumps into his shoulder in its feeble attempt to close behind him. 

Wide, green eyes remain ensnared by the sickeningly familiar device that sits innocently in the paws of Lil Petey. A device with blue and pink components and a simple heart engraved deep into the barrel of a gun - 

Petey tail kinks just as a strangled cry tears itself from his throat. In a flash of orange and black stripes he flings the bag of groceries in the general direction of the kitchen, using the force of his throw to propel himself and snatch Lil Petey from Dogman's back. 

"Papa!" the kitten cheers as he's swept into Petey's arms. God, what Petey wouldn't give to be as ignorant as this kid- to smile and cheer like he hadn't just been holding a very real and dangerous weapon. 

Er- maybe "dangerous" isn't quite the right word...but it definitely isn't meant to be used in some game of "cowboy"! 

Lil Petey doesn't protest when he's set on the edge of the kitchen counter, even going as far as to giggle when Petey almost trips over the now forgotten bag of groceries. The mess doesn't matter. 

Not when his focus is on scouring the kid for something- anything that could be amiss. 

Orange paws cup Lil Petey's cheeks, turning the kitten's head from side to side. 

No love-heart eyes. No bruises or scrapes. No words of undying devotion. 

Petey drags a paw down his face, heaving out a loud breath of relief. Thank god the kid isn't traumatized. At least any more than the usual. 

He gives another glance over Lil Petey before he finally lets the familiar bite of anger sink its teeth into his veins. "Who gave you this!" Petey demands, unceremoniously dumping the Love Ray(c) into the sink basin. He doesn't even wait for the kitten to respond, instead whirling toward Dogman. 

Petey's pupils shrink. The mutt at least has enough decency to look sheepish. Not that it'll save Dogman from his pre-dug grave. 

Venom drips from his hiss. "You- " 

"80-HD did," Lil Petey pipes up. He can practically hear the smile in the kid's voice. "I asked him to find me a cowboy gun!" 

Petey's eye twitches, the target of his fury transferring seamlessly from Dogman onto the thought of 80-HD. One day he'd dismantle that robot and rebuild it with "common sense" as its main function. For now, though- "It doesn't even look like a cowboy gun," he bites out. "It's got a heart on it for crying out loud!" 

Small, orange eyebrows furrow. "Why?" 

"Because it's a Love Ray!" 

"Why?" 

"Because I needed a Love Ray at the time." 

"Why?" 

"Because it was a part of one of my many masterful plans to take over the city!" 

"Why?" 

" Kid -" 

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. This isn't something to get this angry over- 

Petey pauses. Wait, no- this is exactly the type of thing to be furious over. 

It doesn't matter that the Love Ray led to a disaster in its own right. Or that 80-HD gave the kid the device. it never should've happened because there was an adult present, watching. An adult that's easily bribed and slobbers over everything, but an adult nonetheless! 

His gaze hardens onto Dogman. It's not even as satisfying as it usually is to watch the mutt's ears droop and guilt fill those big, brown eyes. 

"You were supposed to watch the kid!" he snaps. "Is this what usually happens when I'm not here? You let him play with dangerous weapons?" 

Dogman's head shakes, his hands coming up in an attempt to sign a response. "I-" 

"Ah-at," Petey hisses. "I don't wanna hear it. Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!" 

"Wait!" Lil Petey calls, leaping from the kitchen counter. Petey almost stumbles from just how fiercely the little kitten attaches himself to his leg. "It wasn't Dogman's fault!" he protests. "He tried to take it away until I said I'd keep the safety on!" 

"Wha-? There's no safety button on that thing!" 

Dogman's guilt-filled expression suddenly dissipates, brows furrowing as he glares sternly toward Lil Petey. 

Ever the con artist, the kitten only scratches the back of his neck with a shy smile. "...oops?" 

"Morons," Petey mutters miserably. "I got a moron cop dog to watch my moron of a clone." 

Dogman barks his complaint just as Lil Petey manages an offended "Hey!" 

"I don't wanna hear it! You're grounded, kiddo." 

"But-!" 

"No 'buts'!" 

Petey pointedly ignores the soft giggle the word "but" draws from the kid, his orange tail unraveling Lil Petey from his leg and pushing him toward the stairs. 

Neither Dogman nor Petey move even once the kitten- and his giggle fit -disappear upstairs, the trouble-maker likely beginning to formulate his attempt to lessen his grounding sentence rather than heading to bed like Petey would hope. 

His ears flatten. He seriously didn’t want to physically wrangle the kid into bed tonight. More often than not it led to having Lil Petey ask to sleep with him, and at that point Dogman just had to be invited as well. 

In the corner of his eye Dogman's hand twitches. 

"Petey," Dogman signs.

"Don't," the cat interrupts, pressing a hand to his brows. "You're lucky I'm not packing a suitcase right now.” 

He smiles pleasantly as Dogman's expression turns panicked, though it quickly falls as a high-pitched whine interrupts Petey's moment of triumph. 

"Hey, I just said I'm staying! It's like you don’t even listen someTIMES-!” 

Dogman crashes into Petey in a pile of limbs, the mutt barking joyously as he licks at the fur on Petey’s arm. He grimaces. At least it isn’t his face this time. 

“Get off!” Petey snaps, shoving Dogman aside far kinder than the mutt deserves. Thankfully Dogman keeps his distance this time around. “Go put the kid to bed, I’ve got shit to do.” 

Like putting the Love Ray back in storage, he thinks. Or dealing with the groceries. 

Fuck, when did he become so domesticated?

[crownmemes]

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 31

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"We don't have any fun! Not like we used to!"

"This is worse than I knew it was going to be."

"You're no fun when you're needy."

"I'm sorry, I will not be placated!"

"I don't like you. I don't like your arrogance."

"You've devoted to melodrama."

"Who the hell are you to order me around?"

"We had an arrangement. You don't come here."

"You're either really dumb, or you're trying to provoke me, which also makes you really dumb."

"I'm sorry, I will not be placated!"

"You are the most stubborn creature on this earth!"

"When I want your advice, I'll ask for it!"

"I was looking for advice, not a lecture."

"What do you want? I thought we were done."

"Try not to make any more headlines today."

"I suppose you have good reason for making me look like a liar?"

"Don't lecture me on a job I've been doing since you couldn't wipe your ass!"

"Don't flatter me. I know what I am."

"You are being very facetious this evening!"

"I am only going to say this one time, okay? Whatever stupid ideas you've got locked in that rock hard head of yours, they're going to get you killed!"

"Look, are you going to let me in on what you're thinking here?"

"Why must you always denigrate my work?"

"That article really has got to your head, hasn't it?"

"There's a nicer way to make your point, you know!"

"You're behaving like a spoilt child, which is exactly what you are!"

"What have you been doing all day?"

"Typical. You're always thinking about yourself."

"You have no right to lecture me about the people I choose to be friends with!"

"Is there not enough tension in this house already?"

"You're up to something! I know the signs!"

"If you don't mind, I'll make my own choice."

"I never make mistakes! In fact, I'm incapable of making mistakes!"

"Is it just physically impossible for you not to be an asshole for longer than ten minutes?"

"Do you just make these things up?"

"Have you been reading the conspiracy theories?"

"Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?"

"Do you have an issue with me?"

[thebibutterflyao3]

"Meadow"

@pandalilymicrofics - 1080 words

part six - part seven - part eight

“Luna? Do you know where my rose quartz went?” Pandora called out, digging through her drawer of bagged crystals. She carefully stacked the small, divided containers that she’d assembled for her more open-minded patients. If they kept the container sitting open in their house, the energy shift helped somewhat, in her experience. 

However, her daughter was either ignoring her or had her headphones on because she didn’t answer. Luna tended to zone out to her music when she finished with her homework, occasionally painting people and imaginary creatures on her walls and ceiling. Last time Pandora checked, there were four new faces up them. At least she’s making friends at her new school.

“I swear I just bought a pound of polished rose. Where is it?” Pandora muttered to herself as she sifted through the gauzy bags. “And the amethyst?! Am I hallucinating, or have they grown legs and walked away?”

She began pulling all of the crystals out and spreading the bags across the top of her dresser. Once the drawer was nearly empty, she saw the missing bags tucked into the back corner, half-full. Pandora lifted them up and studied the contents, puzzled. “Luna?”

When she still didn’t receive a response, Pandora palmed the opened bags and made her way up the stairs to her daughter’s lair. The second floor was entirely hers, the perks of being an only child. Not that Luna seemed to notice. More often than not, she was lost in her own world.

“Luna?” she said, hesitating when she realised Luna was, in fact, on a ladder painting. The flower-filled meadow and castle on her wall remained half-finished, but Pandora didn’t comment on it. Not wanting to startle her daughter by suddenly appearing in her room, she knocked lightly on the door. “Earth to Luna. May I come in?”

“Of course, Maman,” Luna said. She continued to paint bright red hair on two of the new figures. “Did you need something?”

Pandora held up the bags. “Any idea how this happened?”

Luna glanced at the bags, then nodded, entirely unfazed. “I needed them for an experiment. Is that alright?”

“Well, yes. I wish you’d told me you needed them though.” Pandora stepped closer, her gaze caught on the one figure that Luna had finished painting. It was a boy with dark hair and glasses that looked eerily similar to her client, Mr. Potter. “Who is that? A new friend?”

“Mm-hmm, his name is Harry and I like him,” Luna said, matter-of-fact. She pointed at each of the faces as she spoke. “I went to his house after school yesterday with Ron and Hermione. This one here will be Ginny when it's done. She’s Ron’s sister, but she wasn’t there. She had football practice.”

Pandora closed her hand around the bags and squeezed. It took every ounce of her self-control not to launch into a lecture about safe sex, but she knew Luna could recite it back to her by now. She chose to ignore the fact that her daughter appeared to have a crush on her client’s son. That was irrelevant, and none of her business. “Were either of his parents home?”

“His mum came in shortly after we did, but don’t worry, Maman. We just watched movies and she made us snacks,” Luna replied. She smiled, brushing a thumb fondly over the cheek of Harry’s portrait. “He’s nice. I think you would like him.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Pandora considered a number of tactics to draw out more information, then realised she was dangerously close to psychoanalysing her daughter. Nope. Back off. She has a right to share when she’s ready. The voice in her head was, as usual, her late husband’s. Xeno always knew when to intervene.

Luna rolled her neck side to side, wincing when it cracked. “I think I’m done for tonight. Kinda hungry, actually.”

“I’ll fix something while you clean up, yes?” Pandora waited for her answer before moving from the doorway. It wouldn’t be the first time that Luna tuned her out while she stood right in front of her. Teenagers.

“Yes, Maman.” 

On the way down the stairs, Pandora’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She quickly answered it, smiling when she saw Regulus’s name, then his glaring face on the screen. “‘Allo, Reg. What’s with the face?”

“I had the misfortune of meeting your brother’s new ‘friend’ last night,” he grumbled, shoving his fringe out of his face. “He’s a piece of work, Panda. What rubbish tip did he find that twat in?”

Pandora frowned. “What friend? He stopped by my office this morning to give it a facelift, but he was alone.”

Regulus shook his head, clearly exhausted. “Barmy? Barney? Something like that? He winds Evan up every time he opens his mouth, so I don’t know why he’s keeping him around.” A noise in the background distracted him for a moment, then he waved at someone off-screen. “Sirius, what was that shithead’s name? The one with Evan?”

“Barty,” Sirius said, chuckling. “He wasn’t that bad, Reggie. You just didn’t like that he was hitting on you half the night.”

“Poorly. Very poorly hitting on me,” Regulus corrected. “He was so crude, Panda.”

Sirius cackled in the background. “He really was. It was hilarious! I thought Reggie’s disgust face was going to be permanently stuck.”

Pandora propped her phone against the utensil holder with the rainbow rooster painted on the side and  listened to the two of them banter playfully as she began gathering ingredients for croque monsier. Cream, butter, cheese…more cheese. 

“What about you, Pandora?” Sirius said, his icy blue eyes appearing over his brother’s shoulder as he leaned into frame. “Any gossip? A new beau?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But…” Pandora scrunched her nose, unsure if she should share her suspicions about Luna’s Harry. It wasn’t as though either of them knew Mr. Potter though, or were likely to ever meet him.  “I think ma lune has a crush on my client’s son. He's the spitting image of his dad.”

Regulus blinked rapidly, then tilted his head to the side like a curious kitten. “Well, that’s…certainly…”

“Awkward,” Sirius interrupted. “That’s awkward as fuck. Is the dad fit?”

“He’s objectively attractive, I suppose, but that’s all I’ll say about him,” she warned, pointing her spatula at the screen. A glob of cream landed in Sirius’s hair. 

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Doctor-patient bullshite, I get it.”

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 180 spoilers and thoughts of me being lowkey scared but also having a great fucking time bc of lloyd's expressions but still being worried and more below the cut

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THE THUMBNAIL FOR THIS EP WAS THIS PANEL OF HELKAROS. I WAS SO DAMN TERRIFIED Y'ALL I WAS LIKE "oh god are the sillies over already. ARE WE ALREADY IN THE STORM??? THE CALM WAS TOO SHORT"

THANKFULLY we got one last ep of sillies to wrap up the mini arc,,, and i really like how it ended actually,,,

y'know i probably should've expected them to do a redemption for the venetos, but i'm still happy it happened,,, it doesn't take back all the shit the chief has said to his wife and kid but it's a start! absolutely a start, and i like that that's how it ended i think

OK BACK TO THE TOP. LLOYD'S PANELS IN THIS EP WERE TOP FUCKING NOTCH I LOVED THEM SO MUCH. LOOK AT HIM BEING ALL SMILEY,,, SO DAMN CUTE,,, STOPPP

HE'S SO DAMN ROUND,,, plus the cuts between where he's being ominous and describing the ABSURD interest rates HELP???

it is very nice that the chief (I FORGOT HIS NAME ALREADY) is determined to provide for his family in this new way,,, i'm glad about that. i think that's a big part of why i liked the end of this arc,,, again, still wish the intro was a little different but seeing this growth was really nice,,,

ALSO. "javier has already crossed a river too wide" HELPPP JAVIER LAKDFJSHDF not even doubting him for more than two panels anymore,,, he's too far gone,,, saluting u javier,,,,, still the funniest mf in the room i love his deadpan moments like this. stupid silly,,,

this whole bit was so damn good,,, i didnt even realize how this is very much a Bad Thing lloyd was doing technically until the system pointed out that he's doing what loan sharks do laksdjflkasdf the reader herself was also swindled,,,

honestly i was like a lil worried when i got to this point of the ep esp since many of my mutuals have said that the manhwa characterization is a bit. off the rails,,, so at this point i started getting worried abt how they would proceed,,, system is completely right in that loan sharks n financial scam things are things that he's had to deal with his whole life and he hates it, so to see him do this,,, feels odd,,, it's later explained in the ep tho hehe

THEN THEY SHOWED THE GOOD KARMA/BAD KARMA THING W HELKAROS AND OOH,,, MY GOD,,, OH SUHO YOU'VE BEEN SO DAMN GOOD,,, ALL YOUR LIFE,,, the bad karma not even reaching 200 and yet his good karma is OVER 80 MIL,,, you've been so good suho,,, u deserve good too,,,

seeing helkaros again made me worried more but also seeing his good karma made me so damn happy. if suho ever wanted a quantifiable way to prove that he's lived right, to prove that his parents raised him right,,, there's ur answer,,, tears sobbing sniffling

then we cut to lloyd coming back to collect the payments AND,,, AND,,, ALKDFJLSKJDFHSDFHGG

HE'S SO ROTUND,,, SO ROUND AND SQUISHY,,, CUTE,,, I LOVE THESE PANELS SO SSOO MUCH SO SO SO SO MUCH,,, OH KIM HYUNSOO-NIM THANK YOU FOR THIS I LLVE THESE,,, HES SO CUTE,,,

another fav bit was the fucking. cute then immediate "TCH." IM. HAHAHFLKDSJFHAHAHA I LOVE BITS LIKE THAT

like god he goes from looking like the most puntable squishy creature on earth to a fucking mob boss im CRYINGGG

at this point tho when the demons rushed in i was like. actually scared that they'd do some really bad fucking shit ,,, as aware as i am about suho's empathy/overall good behavior, it's still. CONVINCING that he's doing something Awful y'know especially when it's lloyds face looking like a thug. doesn't help that he didn't explain himself to the system either,,, which makes me wonder if the system is connected at all to the karma values that we saw? since the bad karma went up once the system heard what lloyd had to say, but also didn't remove it? ehh not sure, don't think it's terribly important but just a passing thought

AND THEN THE REVEAL THAT THEY JUST AGGRESSIVELY CLEANED AND REMODELED THEIR HOUSE IM. LAKJDFLSKJDF

AND I WAS SO RELIEVED AND ALSO SO HAPPY,,, LIKE OF FUCKING COURSE,,, THATS WHAT THEY DO BEST,,, ALDJFKSDFHA

like i know lloyd is like "u see how fast we fix? think abt how fast we could tear it all down,,, >:3" but after seeing this, i mean this when i say that i do not believe he'd tear anything down at all alksdjflkasdf ohhh suho,,, literally taking the most roundabout way for this,,, ily bud never stop doing good

AND HIS KARMA SKYROCKETTED FOR THAT TOO HE PUSHED PAST 90 MIL!!! SO CLOSE TO 100 MIL AAHH

that makes me wonder then how exactly helkaros is gonna drag lloyd down,,, is he gonna inflict despair, is he gonna make lloyd give up somehow? i'm curious,,, esp after seeing worthroad again (YEESH the time has not been kind to you buddy)

he has two of those dark magic blades now,,,,, i remember his plan was to bring war by bringing alicia to madness like fate had originally planned,,, and with fate still chugging along it's possible that this is gonna be like. TEN BILLION times worse than what fate had originally set on,,, which is scary. i think we're entering the storm,,, i'm SCARED

very glad this arc got the chance to have a nice conclusion,,, i keep saying this lol but rough start, nice ending,,, now we're back in the wringer. i'm NERVOUS AND I HOPE LLOYD PULLS THRU,,, im wondering too if lloyd is gonna use his blessing thing on javier at some point during this next arc,,, would that be enough to defeat helkaros? idk,,,

IM EXCITED!!,,, ill see yall soon prolly after my midterm lol

[hexarcana]

Aggie watches Stan trap the beast, keeping her eyes on it until it’s frozen. Once it stops moving she bows her head to catch her breath. Then rather unceremoniously, she drops down into a seated position on the floor among the glass and puddles of water lightly tinted with blood. Her granddaughters blood, she realizes. Olive is hurt, and pretty badly by the looks of it. The kid was sturdy and had a lot of adrenaline but as soon as that wore out��

And Aggies to spent to heal her just then. Dammit. Dammit.

Olive sees her grandma’s state and limps to her side. She’s seen what using too much magic can do to her and if she didn’t already feel rotten about this whole thing, she’s certainly feeling it ten fold. She stiffly kneels next to her and checks her over. It’s a little odd seeing them in reversed roles like this.

“He left it open when he came up to go meet Doc McGucket for lunch!” She protests. That was true but even if he hadn’t she did know the code. It wasn’t a hard code. “I was just gonna come check it out! Because it IS interesting! You just don’t think so cuz’ it’s under your house but Hello, my favorite movies are sci fi and horror flicks of COURSE I wanted to see! Besides, Dipper and Mabel got to check it out down here, I wanted to too.” She says this a bit defensively, “Plus it seems like every old person I know has a secret basement they don’t want me seeing. I asked Doc if I could come take a look, and he wouldn’t take me down so I figured hey, I take peek n’ come right back up, it’ll be fine but that THING-“ She waves the hand on her non-injured arm at the pod, “Was on some sorta timer deal and it woke up. I was in that bunker in the woods with that shapeshifter thing, I KNOW not to mess with tubes with monsters in them. I’ve SEEN Alien like, a billion times. I’m not stupid!”

“You.. What?” Aggie says weakly, still stuck on the part about a bunker. But now Olive is out of breath too from her backed-in-the-corner please-don’t-yell-at-me speech. Both Yearlings are sitting on the floor now, one clearly injured and the other exhausted.

“M’sorry for coming down here without asking. But it’s like dangling a big ol’ steak in front of a starving dog. If it gets the chance it’ll bite!” Olive babbles, wincing as she straightens out her leg which definitely needs medical or magical attention, whichever can be obtained first.

Before either Yearling can say anything, there’s a familiar sound of the elevator approaching. The little light above the door blinks and the door opens, revealing Stan’s brother, who isn’t paying attention because he’s got his face in a book. It isn’t until he takes a few steps that he realizes that he isn’t alone. He takes in the scene, closing and lowering his book. His brother, his brother’s witch partner and her pesky grandchild both sitting on the floor looking unwell, broken glass, and that creature he’d been studying is in an entirely different cryopod. He’s so shocked he doesn’t actually say anything, he just points a look of confusion, anger and admittedly, curiosity, at his brother. He looks as if he’s saying What the hell did you do?

Stan rushes forward and slams a palm against the glowing red button on the control panel. Instantly billowing clouds of liquid nitrogen start to jet out from the cryo-pod as the door starts to slide shut. The creature starts to bellow and squeal in anguish, as though finally realising what was happening to it. It manages to turn around just as the door clunks shut and it is entombed forever, its expression of anger and fury frozen forever on its face.

For a moment all is silent aside from the background chatter of computers and the hissing and whine of the cryopod as it initialised around its new occupant.

Stan turns back to Aggie and Olive.

“Everyone ok? No one missing any limbs?”

He dusts himself down, and eyes Olive.

“How did you even get in here kid? Is the prospect of my brothers old junk just that interesting for ya?”

[judicent]

Yeah, I did fill 4 sketchbooks in 4 months so far this year. Huh? Am I gonna post even an ounce of it? Well, you see, I am allergic to my phone, so you will have to come CATCH ME

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Toddler Harry with space sheets and comforter. James and Regulus is tucking him at night. Regulus is busy putting away Harry’s folded clothes and James is tucking the blankets into Harry’s sides as tight as he can (burrito time). James and Harry are goofing about while James reads him his bedtime story but they're settling down right. Harry is literally about to pass the fuck out and he gasps so fucking loud Regulus drops his tinie tiny little jeans shorts. Harry goes “look dad its papa” and then points at the little Leo constellation and passes out directly after. James has never been so giddy, kissing Harry’s forehead. Meanwhile Regulus is on the floor sobbing drying his tears with Harry’s t-shirt

[rat-rosemary]

I need to write/draw C!Dream with hoarding/guarding behaviors because you guys have no idea how bad that fucks up your thinking. It makes you into a wild animal.

Techno jokingly reaching for one of Dream's apples while they're chilling together and Dream slapping his hand and becoming super defensive without even realizing. He's just short of growling at Techno, and just a second ago they were joking together

Him trying to act normal afterwards he's a little hunched over his things. A minute later he slides it all back into his inventory, saying that the mess was bothering him

When Punz and Dream are together then Dream will never leave anything of his on view, even while he cooks he angles himself to hide whatever he doing from Punz. He's not even doing it on purpose

Him guarding his territory. Punz rarely enters the prison because Dream always insists they have meetings elsewhere and always has an excuse of why they don't need to go in the prison rn

Having bunker after bunker filled with every type of item and backups for all those bunkers on top of that.

Tommy digs too deep one day and finds himself on seemingly endless hallways that just lead to storage after storage after storage

[naamahdarling]

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[elisedonut]

Percy Anxiety HCs

(specifically Post-War Percy though)

It doesn't take much to send him into a spiral

A bad dream about the war

it being a certain time of year

seeing someone he doesn't recognize near his flat

a typical week for him will have at least one night where it hits him particularly hard but two are not uncommon

He already tends to keep his wand on him even in his flat but during these times he'll hold it in his hand in a way that's not immediately obvious (so not typically held out but more at his side)

Even when these feelings are happening he tries really hard to not make it obvious on the off chance someone is in his flat

Making his rounds of his house in a way that to an observer wouldn't look like he was looking for an intruder

After his first search he casts all the protection ward spells he always uses

checking for animagi

checking for people that might be invisible somehow

whatever other fun protection spells you can think of

then immediately casts a bunch of random household spells mostly cleaning ones to push the protection ones further down and less likely to be seen in the case of a wand check

even if his wand hadn't been checked in years

[yuelun]

.... I just really want her to be real. I want it more today than I did yesterday, and I'll want it even more tomorrow. And I worry about it, but I also have such a strong gut feeling. I just, I really want her to be real.

[namelessprince]

guys i am slash gen so happy for grefgor and i am actually ELATED that arthur looks weird now

[madigoround]

Some days it feels like I am just desperately trying to find reasons to live so I don’t jump off a bridge and it’s hardly even working

Edit: I have spent some very necessary kitten cuddle time and received some very sweet messages from people and I am feeling more sane, definitely recommend nice people and cats lol