#human debris project

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You��ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.

[fungifaggot]

Alternative!Mark Grayson x Cat!Hybrid Gn!Reader

Content: fluff?maybeidontknow- like in a toxic, abusive way. Also sexual undertones if you squint.

A/n: I wrote this with Mohawk Mark in mind, but it's not specified at all in the fic.

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You were a test experiment.

Born in a secret base run by rogue scientists, your existence was part of an illegal project looking to engineer animal-human hybrids. They tested everything- bears for strength, dolphins for underwater efficiency, and then there was you: a cat hybrid.

You were gifted with heightened senses such as enhanced smell and hearing, night vision, retractable claws, and improved agility- you were the ideal build for stealth missions. You were a natural infiltrator. A thief. And an assassin. They trained you to move in the shadows, to slip through security, and retrieve things that no one else could.

You didn’t question your orders. You didn’t dream of the outside world. You didn’t even wonder why you existed. You just did what you were told. And in return, they gave you food, a place to sleep, and a purpose.

That was until one particular mission.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just sneak into an enemy base, eliminate the targets, and get out without raising any alarms.

You moved silently and efficiently through the base. You had already picked off nearly a quarter of their team, hiding the bodies before anyone noticed.

“This’ll be easy,” you thought to yourself right before a blur of yellow came crashing through the wall beside you.

The impact sent you flying. You would’ve landed on your feet if it weren’t for the solid wall of muscle that tackled you mid-air and pinned you to the ground.

He punched you. Once. Twice. And on the third hit, he stopped.

His fist hung above your face, trembling slightly. You were frozen beneath him, dazed, breathing hard. You’d faced enemies before, but none like this. This guy was stronger. This guy could kill you. And for the first time, you felt real fear.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes. Or the way your fur raised in terror. Perhaps it was because he read the collar around your neck- the one that said “Property of (idkicantthinkofsomething) Inc.”

You had just killed a dozen men without a second thought. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you.

The last thing you remember was the sharp snap of him tearing off your collar.

Then everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in a cold, unfamiliar cell.

Your ankle was chained to a stone wall. A new collar around your neck. The chain was just long enough to let you pace a few feet. But that was it.

You stayed in this prison for about two months- at least, that’s what you guessed. The only way you kept track was by scratching tally marks into the wall with your claws.

Life in prison wasnt particularly different from your life before. You weren't treated well, and there wasn't much to do, but you were already used to being the property of someone else.

You spent most of your free time working out, grooming your fur, or trimming your nails on the rough stone wall.

Which is exactly what you were doing when the prison alarms started blaring. You heard loud crashes echo through the building, followed by the deep tremor of walls shaking and falling apart. Explosions rang out in the distance, and flames lit up the darkened hallways.

You were afraid. You didn't know what was going on; all you could hear were the loud sounds of the building falling apart and people screaming. You would have taken this moment to try and escape if it weren't for the shackles keeping you in your cell.

The best you could do was sit on your bed curled in a ball, covering your head in hopes of protecting yourself from flying debris.

"What do we have here~?"

Your ears perked up, facing toward the unfamiliar voice.

He looked familiar; his suit resembled that of the hero who had sent you to this prison. ‘Invincible’ was his name, you now knew. However, this guy didn't smell the same- you could tell he wasn't from around here.

You took a defensive position, extending your claws and baring your teeth with a loud hiss.

"Now now kitty, there's no need to be disobedient," He said as he approached you menacingly.

His voice was dripping with amusement. His words were riddled with laughter, even though it was out of place.

"Does this kitty cat like to bite?" he teased, extending a hand out to your face.

As he expected, you did. You clamped your jaw around his hand the moment he was within reach.

He retracted his hand, unphased by the pain.

"Tsk tsk tsk, bad kitty," he said with an exaggerated pout.

He lunged forward, grabbing you by the scruff, and lifted you up as far as the shackles would let him.

"Bad kitties deserved to be punished."

He pulled on your scruff even harder; it felt almost like he was going to rip the skin right off of your body. You knew he could if he wanted to.

And yet you were being held in the air at his mercy- he undressed you with his eyes. Taking in the entirety of your body, soaking in your beauty.

“We don't have anything like you where I’m from-” he mused, flicking at your sensitive ears, enjoying how you grit your teeth in pain.

“How cute…”

He stops talking for a moment, as if lost in thought, before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Y’know what? I think I want to keep ya! You’re awfully pretty…”

He pulled your limp body closer to his, your limbs still dangling like a ragdoll.

“What do you think about that?” he asks, his smile growing impossibly wider.

It was a rhetorical question; you obviously didn’t have a choice.

You still hadn't spoken. You were worried that if you did, your voice would tremble.

He gently set you back down on the prison bed, releasing your scruff. His hand slid from your neck to your chin, tilting your head upward until you were forced to meet his gaze.

You tensed, unsure of what he would do next.

To your surprise, he started to move his hand gently, scratching under your jaw.

“What is he doing?” you thought to yourself

It was an odd sensation- getting pet, that is. It was something you’ve never felt before. Your creators never treated you to such affection. This was the first time that you have ever felt the gentle touch of another.

It was rather pleasurable.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned into his touch, instinctively pressing your cheek against his hand. His touch made your jaw feel warm, and the way he scratched you hit an itch you never knew you had.

“This kitty likes attention, don't they?” he cooed in a singsong voice, scratching deeper.

Amongst all the screaming and commotion happening in the background he almost missed it- the soft rumble of you purring.

You didn’t mean to purr; it just kind of happened.

The suited man jutted out his bottom lip in a fake pout.

“Awwww, I think this kitty likes me!” he teased.

With a swift motion, he grabbed your shackles and tore them from the wall.

“You’re going to make a perfect pet,” he said with a smirk.

“I think it’s time to take you home with me.”

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A/n: sorry this is short, I ran outta gas towards the end of this one.

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters in a zombie apocalypse x fem reader (AU)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i’ve always wanted to do a dynamic like this, i’m a total zombie fan and i loved how the settings turned out. i’m literally speechless! the post-apocalyptic vibe is on point, and i can’t wait to see how the next parts unfold. this project has mad potential, guys i swear! every new twist has me hooked, and i can’t stop thinking about what’s coming next. it’s definitely got everything to be epic! as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The night was thick and cold, the air heavy with the echoes of a world crumbling to pieces. The streets, once bustling with life, were now engulfed in an unsettling silence, broken only by the crunch of debris under your boots. The zombie apocalypse had taken more than words could express. As you moved forward, hunger and thirst became your constant companions, but so was the hope of finding a refuge, a temporary respite amid the chaos.

It was then that you heard it. A soft, ethereal melody, floating in the air like a whisper, like a lament. You stopped, the sound calling to you like a siren, a promise of something human, something real, in a world that seemed to have lost all connection to the soul. Following the trail of the music, you arrived at a semi-collapsed building, an old concert hall. The doors were ajar, and the sound of the piano echoed through the walls, a melancholic tune speaking of losses and longings.

Entering cautiously, your eyes adjusted to the dimness, and there, in the center of the room, was him. Viktor, his slender figure bent over the piano, his long, skillful fingers gliding across the keys with a precision almost mechanical. He didn’t stop when you entered, his eyes closed, lost in a world of his own.

"Are you real or a ghost?" His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft, barely a whisper over the music. He didn’t wait for a reply, his fingers never faltering.

"I’m real... I think," you responded, stepping closer with light steps, as if afraid to break the spell he had created. "Your music... it’s beautiful. But why play for the dead?"

He opened his eyes, his gaze tired, marked by a pain you recognized immediately. "The living don’t listen. They don’t understand. The dead... they make a better audience."

It wasn’t the answer you expected, but you didn’t question it either. There was something in his voice, in the way he said it, that made you feel that this man, this stranger, carried a pain like your own. You sat at a respectful distance, not wanting to interrupt more than necessary.

"Not all the living are deaf to pain," you said softly, your eyes fixed on his hands still playing. "I understand. I’ve lost as much as you, maybe more."

For the first time, his hands stopped, and the silence filled the room. Viktor looked up at you, as if he were truly seeing you for the first time. "Why are you here?"

"I was looking for water, shelter... but now I think I was looking for something else. Something that would remind me there’s still beauty in this broken world."

There was a moment of silence, tense but full of possibility. Then, he nodded, as if accepting your presence. "The water’s in the room behind. You can stay, if you want. But don’t talk too much."

You chuckled softly, a sound you hadn’t made in weeks. "Deal."

Thus began your relationship, silent at first, sharing space with few words. Viktor played, and you listened, finding comfort in each note. Slowly, the walls he had built started to crumble. He would tell you small things, fragments of his life before the apocalypse, the people he had lost. And you shared your own stories, your own scars.

One night, after an especially sad piece, Viktor stopped playing and looked at you directly. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who made me feel like I wasn’t alone."

"And now you’re not," you responded softly, taking his hand in yours, a simple gesture but one full of meaning. "You don’t have to face this alone, Viktor. No one should."

The touch was a catalyst, a spark that ignited something within him. Viktor nodded, his eyes shining with something more than pain for the first time in a long time. "Maybe... maybe you can teach me how to live again."

"And you can teach me to find peace in music," you said, your words sincere, your heart open.

It was the beginning of something deeper, a bond forged not only in shared pain but in the hope of healing together. Every night, Viktor played, not just for the dead, but for you, and in each note, you both found a path to redemption.

Jinx

The roar of gunshots and screams tore through the air, interrupting the unsettling silence of the night. You approached cautiously, your heart racing in your chest, driven by curiosity and the instinct to survive. The sounds came from a narrow alley, a trap of shadows and death.

There, you saw her for the first time.

Jinx, a whirlwind of bright colors and madness, fired with brutal precision, her eyes overflowing with an intensity that froze your blood. Her laughter was a cry of defiance, but also a disguised plea for help. Around her, the bodies of zombies fell, but it didn’t seem like she was fighting just them. There were others, humans, equally dead or dying.

"Come on! Is that all you’ve got?" she shouted, her blue braids spinning as her machine gun spat fire. There was a twisted joy in her voice, but also something deeper, something broken.

For a moment, you hesitated. This girl, this wild creature, was she someone you could help, or someone you should flee from? But something in her eyes, in the chaos of her mind reflected in her gaze, drew you in.

"Enough!" You found yourself shouting, your own words surprising you. "They're already dead!"

Jinx turned sharply toward you, her eyes narrowing, assessing you as if you were the next enemy. "And who are you? The savior of the day?" Her smile was a mix of mockery and distrust.

"No, just... someone who doesn’t want to see more unnecessary deaths," you said, raising your hands in a peace gesture. "You’ve already taken care of them."

For a moment, there was silence. Jinx lowered her weapon, though her fingers stayed tense on the trigger. "Maybe, but there’s always more. There will always be more."

"That doesn’t mean you have to fight alone," you dared to say, moving a little closer. "No need to be a war machine all the time."

She laughed, a dry and bitter sound. "And who are you to tell me what to be? The world is chaos, and I... fit perfectly in it."

"I don’t doubt it," you admitted, your voice soft but firm. "But even chaos needs a moment of calm."

Jinx stared at you, as if searching for something in your eyes, something she hadn’t found in a long time. "You’re strange, you know that? Not many come close when they see what I’m capable of."

"I’m not like the others," you simply said. "And I don’t think you are either."

For the first time, Jinx seemed to relax, lowering her weapon completely. "Maybe you’re not. What’s your name, strange one?"

You told her your name, and she repeated it, as if testing the sound on her lips. "So, are you going to follow me then, or are you just here to preach?"

"I could follow you, if you’ll let me."

She smiled, this time more genuinely. "Well then, strange one. Let’s see how much you can handle."

And that’s how your relationship with Jinx began, a whirlwind of emotions and danger. It wasn’t easy; she was unpredictable, her moods shifting like the wind, and her inner demons always lurking. But there were also moments of genuine connection, of vulnerability she only showed to you.

Over time, Jinx began to trust you more than she ever thought possible. You were the only one who could calm the storm inside her, even though sometimes she dragged you along with her. There were nights when she clung to you, whispering her fears and nightmares, and you were there to hold her.

"You’re always going to remind me that I’m not alone, right?" she asked one night, her big eyes full of a mix of hope and fear.

"Always," you reassured her, gently caressing her face. "As long as you let me stay by your side."

Jinx smiled, a smile that, though still broken, was starting to heal. "Then stay, strange one. Stay with me in this chaos."

And you did. Because, despite everything, the chaos with Jinx was where you started to feel like you belonged.

Vi

The night was dark, barely lit by the fire consuming the camp around you. The screams and mess were deafening, each second a reminder of how fragile life had become in this new world. You were trapped, surrounded by the bandits who had attacked, their cruel laughter and weapons gleaming under the light of the flames.

"What do we have here?" one of them mocked, stepping closer with a depraved smile. "Another victim of this rotten world."

You were exhausted, too weak to resist, but before they could harm you, a roar echoed through the camp. Shadows moved swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, the bandits were on the ground, neutralized by a figure who moved like lightning.

"Get out of here, or the next blow won’t be so merciful," said a firm, deep voice belonging to the woman standing in front of you. She was tall, muscular, with an aura of authority that left you speechless. Her short dark-red hair, along with the visible scars on her fists, made her unmistakable.

It was Vi, the leader of a resistance group. You had heard of her, a legend among the survivors, someone who never left anyone behind. But in person, she was even more imposing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, without wasting time, her eyes scanning your body for injuries.

"Yes... thank you," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought I was... done for."

"Almost," Vi said, with a slight smile that barely touched her lips. "But not while I'm on guard."

She helped you stand, her grip firm but surprisingly gentle. "Let's go, we can't stay here."

As you moved forward with her group, you noticed Vi stayed close, always vigilant. Her presence was comforting, despite her distant attitude. There was something in her eyes that made you think she had suffered too, that her strength didn't come without a cost.

Days passed, and although Vi was reserved, you noticed small moments when her facade would crumble. A lost look at the horizon, a sigh when she thought no one was listening. You couldn't help but feel curious, a need to understand her, to reach the heart of the woman who had saved your life.

"Why do you do this?" you asked one night, when the others were asleep. You were sitting by the fire, and she was on the perimeter, always alert.

"Do what?" she responded, not looking at you directly.

"Lead, protect people like me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You could just worry about yourself, but you don’t."

Vi sighed, finally sitting next to you. "Because if I don't, who will? The world has already lost too many good people."

"And you’ve lost too, haven’t you?" you ventured, noticing how her eyes darkened at your words.

"We’ve all lost," she murmured, looking away. "But not everyone has the luxury of letting that destroy us."

"But that doesn’t mean you have to face it alone," you said, gently touching her arm. "Sometimes, sharing the weight makes it easier to bear."

Vi looked at you, surprised by your boldness, but she didn't pull away her arm. "I’m not used to sharing," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "I’ve always thought showing weakness is dangerous."

"It’s not weakness, Vi," you reassured, holding her gaze. "It’s humanity."

There was silence, one that seemed endless, but eventually, Vi nodded, as if your words had broken something inside her. "Maybe you're right," she said with a faint smile. "Maybe."

From that moment on, your relationship with Vi began to change. She remained the strong, distant warrior, but privately, with you, she began to lower her guard. She confided in you her fears, her memories of the past, and you were there to listen, to support her. In return, Vi became your protector, but also someone who trusted you to be her emotional anchor.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," she said one night, her voice filled with contained emotion.

"I’ll always be here for you, Vi," you replied, gently taking her hand. "Because you give me strength too."

And so, in the madness of thus new world, you both found a reason to keep fighting, together.

Caitlyn

The air smelled of decay and disinfectant. Every step you took echoed through the underground hallways of the shelter, a maze of steel and concrete that promised safety but hid dark secrets. You were injured, exhausted, and desperate for medical help. The last zombie ambush had left your group in ruins, and you had barely escaped with your life.

Following the signs toward the medical room, you stumbled until you reached a door slightly ajar, from which murmurs and the soft hum of machinery emanated. Pushing the door open, your eyes met a sight that froze you in place.

Caitlyn, a woman with a serene and elegant appearance, was standing in front of an operating table. On it lay an immobilized zombie, still half alive, groaning under the cold lights of the lab. Caitlyn seemed absorbed, meticulously recording her observations as if it were a regular patient, not a monstrous creature.

"What... what are you doing?" Your voice came out broken, almost a whisper, but loud enough for Caitlyn to glance up, her blue eyes meeting yours. There was something in them, a mixture of weariness and determination that unsettled you.

"I'm looking for answers," she said, her tone soft but firm. "If we don't understand the disease, we won't be able to stop it."

"But... experimenting on them like this?" you gestured to the zombie in horror. "This... this isn't right."

"Not right?" Caitlyn set aside her instruments and approached you with a calmness that contrasted with the situation. "What would you do then? Let humanity go extinct while we cling to our morality?"

Her words left you breathless. There was a brutal truth in what she said, but also a line you felt shouldn't be crossed. "I don't know, but this... this doesn't seem like the answer."

"I need time," Caitlyn sighed, her gaze softening slightly. "And understanding. I'm not proud of what I'm doing, but someone has to do it."

Although your initial instinct was to flee from the scene, something in Caitlyn's vulnerability made you stay. "I need help," you finally said, pointing to the wound on your arm. "I was attacked, and I barely managed to escape."

"Come," Caitlyn said, pointing to a cleaner cot on the other side of the room. "Let me help you."

As she tended to you, the silence between you two became heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts. Caitlyn worked with precision, her face showing a mix of concentration and exhaustion.

"Do you always do this alone?" you asked, trying to break the ice, your eyes fixed on hers as she stitched your wound.

"Yes," she replied without looking up. "Most people don't understand what it takes to survive in this world. They prefer to judge from afar."

"I'm not judging you," you clarified, though part of you still struggled with what you had seen. "But... maybe you need to remember why you're doing this. Not just to stop the virus, but to save what's left of us."

Caitlyn paused, her hands still holding the needle. She looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver. "And you? Why do you fight to survive?"

"Because I believe there's still something worth fighting for," you answered honestly. "And because I think if we forget that, we become them."

There was a long silence before Caitlyn resumed working on your wound, but this time her touch was softer, almost as if she were reconsidering her own actions.

From that day on, a fragile connection began to form between the two of you. Caitlyn remained the distant scientist, but in your conversations, you saw glimpses of the woman she once was—someone who had lost as much as you but still fought to find a purpose. You became her constant reminder that science and humanity were not mutually exclusive.

"Thank you for staying," she said one night, when the experiments had ceased and the shelter was calm. "Sometimes, even I need to remember there's something beyond these walls."

"There's always something more, Caitlyn," you smiled, touching her hand gently. "And you deserve it too."

And so, amidst the darkness, feelings began to emerge that neither of them had expected, a bond that promised not only a cure for the world but also for their broken souls.

Jayce

The ruined city was shrouded in a deathly silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of debris beneath your feet. You had been wandering for hours, searching for supplies in an area that had been abandoned since the outbreak began. The air was heavy with dust and desperation, but your instincts guided you, as if something else was calling you.

Turning a corner, you found yourself facing a half-collapsed building, but through one of its broken windows, a faint light filtered through. Curiosity and the need to survive pushed you inside. As you crossed the threshold, the sounds of an improvised laboratory reached your ears: the hum of machines, the clinking of glass vials, and a soft murmur.

Cautiously, you ventured further into the interior until you saw a man with light brown hair, clad in a lab coat, working frantically among various homemade devices. His concentration was so intense that he didn’t notice your presence until you stepped on a loose piece of metal.

"Who's there?" His voice was firm, though tinged with a slight tension. He quickly turned, and his eyes met yours. There was something in his gaze, a mix of distrust and exhaustion.

"Sorry," you raised your hands, showing that you were unarmed. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just looking for supplies and saw the light. I didn't know anyone was here."

Jayce narrowed his eyes, evaluating you. "This place isn't safe. What are you doing here alone?"

"Surviving," you answered honestly. "Like everyone else. But it seems like you’re doing more than just surviving." Your eyes scanned the makeshift laboratory. "What is all this?"

Jayce hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's... an attempt to correct a mistake. I'm looking for a cure for this damn virus."

Your eyebrows rose, impressed by his confession. "A cure? Do you really think it's possible?"

"It's all I have left," he sighed, returning to his instruments. "I can't afford to doubt."

You moved closer, watching his hands as he mixed compounds and adjusted rudimentary microscopes. "Can I help? I'm not a scientist, but I have some medical knowledge. And a lot of desire to make this work."

Jayce looked at you again, this time with a spark of hope in his eyes. "Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know if this is possible."

"Because if there’s a chance, no matter how small, it's worth trying," you replied firmly. "Besides, I don't have much to lose."

A small smile crossed Jayce's lips. "Alright. But if you stay, it'll be on my terms. This isn't a game."

"Understood," you nodded, sitting down in a nearby chair. "Where do we start?"

Days turned into weeks, and what started as a simple collaboration turned into an inseparable partnership. Jayce, always focused and methodical, found in you a companion who not only shared his determination but also reminded him of the humanity behind the science.

There were nights when frustration consumed him, when the experiments failed, and hope faded like smoke. During those moments, you were there, offering him comfort in words and actions, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in his mission.

"Jayce, you can't do this alone," you told him one night, as he sank into his chair, exhausted and defeated. "You have to let someone else share that burden."

He looked up, his tired eyes meeting yours. "I don't know if I can," he admitted. "I've made mistakes before. I don’t want to drag you into my failures."

"This isn’t just your fight," you said, taking his hand in yours. "If we're going to save this world, we’ll do it together."

Jayce gently squeezed your hand, allowing a warmth he had been repressing to seep into his heart. "Thank you," he murmured. "For staying. For believing in me."

"Always," you smiled, drawing closer, your proximity a balm for his restless soul. "You’re not alone, Jayce. And you never will be as long as I’m here."

That night, something changed between you. Science and the search for a cure were no longer the only things that united you. A deeper connection had begun, a bond that grew with every challenge overcome together, with every moment of vulnerability shared.

And so, amidst the chaos and desolation, hope no longer existed solely in Jayce's test tubes but also in the love that blossomed between you both, a cure as essential as the one you were searching for for the world.

Ekko

The night fell heavily over the ruined city, the shadows stretched long between the rubble, and the distant echoes of the infected resonated through the desolate streets. You moved cautiously, your eyes scanning every corner in search of a safe place to take refuge. You had heard rumors of a nearby shelter, but getting there would be nearly impossible without help.

The sound of a metallic click and a blue flash caught your attention from a dark corner. You approached silently, your steps light on the debris. Turning the corner, you saw a young man focused on a holographic screen, his fingers moving with astonishing speed as he hacked into a control system. His white hair shimmered under the dim light, and his face was furrowed in a mix of concentration and frustration.

"Trouble with the system?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Ekko jumped, quickly spinning toward you, his hand flying to a device on his belt. "Who are you? How did you find me?" His voice was filled with distrust.

"Easy," you raised your hands in a peace gesture. "I'm just another survivor, looking for shelter. I saw the light and thought you might help me."

He squinted, scanning you quickly. "I don't need distractions. This is delicate and complicated."

"I'm good with complicated," you replied with a slight smile. "I can help, if you let me."

Ekko hesitated for a moment, his gaze darkened by distrust. But something in your expression, in the determination of your eyes, made him reconsider. "What do you know about zombie control systems?"

"Enough to know you need someone to cover your back while you work," you said, stepping closer. "Besides, it doesn’t seem like you're in a position to turn down help."

He snorted, turning his attention back to the screen. "Fine, but don’t get in my way. This is harder than it looks."

You positioned yourself beside him, watching how his fingers flew over the controls. "Are you trying to access the shelter?"

"Yeah," he muttered, his concentration returning to the task. "If I can hack this system, we could gain access to a safe place. But it's protected by layers of security that... well, they're a headache."

"Let me take a look," you leaned closer to the screen, your fingers brushing against his. "I can help with that."

The days that followed were filled with long hours of work, where you and Ekko collaborated closely, sharing technical knowledge and survival strategies. Every time he wavered under pressure, you were there to offer him a steady hand, a word of encouragement.

One night, as you worked in silence, Ekko spoke, his voice low and filled with guilt. "All of this... the virus... it's my fault."

You looked at him, surprised by his confession. "What do you mean?"

"I was part of an experiment that went wrong," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the screen. "I thought I was helping, but I only made things worse."

You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours. "Ekko, we all make mistakes. But you're doing everything you can to fix it. That's what matters."

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. "You... you see something good in me, despite everything."

"Because there is," you said softly. "And I won't let you drown in guilt. We'll get through this together."

That night, as the world continued to crumble around them, a spark of hope and something deeper began to blossom between you two, a bond that would be as strong as the mission you shared.

Silco

The smell of mold and decay filled the air of the abandoned casino as you moved cautiously, your breath controlled and your senses on high alert. The echo of your footsteps resonated in the silence, broken only by the faint hum of a slot machine that, miraculously, was still working. Your goal was clear: find supplies and get out of there before the place became your tomb.

However, fate had other plans.

"What’s a fascinating creature like you doing in a place like this?" The voice came from the shadows, velvet and dangerous. Your body tensed instantly, spinning on your heels with your hand ready to reach for your weapon.

From the threshold of an old VIP room, a man emerged, his slender figure and sharp gaze striking you immediately. His elegant demeanor, despite the surroundings, and his green-blue eyes trapped you at once. You didn’t know who he was, but his presence carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

"Looking for luck?" The man raised an eyebrow, his thin, calculating smile evident.

"I don’t believe in luck," you responded firmly, keeping your guard up. "Only in what I can take for myself."

"An interesting philosophy," he murmured, stepping closer with slow steps, his presence dominating the room. "But here, everything has a price."

"I don’t have time for games." You kept your voice steady, trying not to show the slight tremor in your fingers as he stopped a few meters away from you.

"Games?" The man’s laugh was low, almost a whisper. "There are no games, only transactions. And you, it seems, aren’t willing to lose."

"The same could be said about you," you challenged, holding his gaze. "What are you after?"

For a moment, the silence between you two stretched, heavy with tension. The man tilted his head as if deciding whether to reveal more or continue his game. Finally, he spoke, his tone serious and measured.

"The same as you," he said, his voice deep. "Survive."

"And manipulate," you added, not missing a beat.

The man laughed again, but this time, there was something different in his laugh, something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Maybe," he admitted, with a frankness that unsettled you. "But don’t we all manipulate in our own way to get what we want?"

"Not everyone sells their soul in the process," you retorted.

"Ah," he took another step closer, almost touching you. "And you, what would you be willing to do to survive?"

His words hung in the air like a challenge, and for the first time, you noticed the faint shadow of something beyond his cold facade: curiosity. This man, the manipulator, seemed genuinely interested in you, not just as a pawn in his game, but as someone who could be just like him.

"Whatever it takes," you said, not backing down. "But never at the cost of my humanity."

The man looked at you for a long moment, as if committing every word to memory. Finally, he took a step back, his lips curling into an enigmatic smile.

"Then perhaps we can find a common purpose," he offered, his tone softer, almost... inviting?

The relationship that began that night was a constant dance between power and vulnerability. Silco, accustomed to manipulating and controlling, found himself intrigued by your resistance, by your ability to see beyond his calculating facade. And you, despite your reservations, couldn’t help but feel drawn to the enigma that was Silco, to the intensity with which he challenged you and made you question your own limits.

Over time, the barriers between you both began to crumble, revealing a bond that you both had denied for a long time. Silco, the man who seemed unbreakable, showed moments of humanity that only you could see. And you, the woman who swore never to compromise her morals, found in him a reason to reconsider where survival ended and true life began.

Mel

The silence in the field was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of leaves under your boots as you approached the isolated house on the outskirts of the city. You had heard rumors about this place, of a woman who lived there, far from others, taking care of something... or someone. You needed shelter and, perhaps, answers.

The house was old but well-maintained, a sign that, despite the circumstances, whoever lived there kept up an appearance of normalcy. You approached slowly, with the distrust that had become your second nature. You knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer, or that the echo inside would confirm the place was empty.

The door creaked open, and there she was: Mel. Her beauty was ethereal, almost as if she didn’t belong to this desolate world. Her eyes, however, were another story, filled with a pain you recognized instantly.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was soft but had an edge that made you hesitate before answering.

"I’m looking for a safe place," you said, keeping your hands visible to show you weren’t a threat. "I just need to rest for a while and move on."

Mel studied you for a moment, her eyes searching for something in your expression. "No one comes here by accident," she murmured, almost to herself. "Come in."

The inside of the house was warm, a contradiction to the cold you felt in your chest. Mel led you to the living room, where the fire flickered weakly. The house was decorated with little keepsakes, photos of better times. However, a door at the end of the hallway was locked, and your instinct told you that was where the real reason for her isolation lay.

"Why are you here, really?" Mel sat down in front of you, her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes still filled with caution.

"I didn’t want to stay in the city. There’s... there’s nothing there for me." You averted your gaze, unable to hold hers for long. "I lost my family."

The tension in the room thickened, and for a moment, Mel seemed to wrestle internally. Finally, she sighed and offered you a cup of tea. "I’ve lost things too... important things."

The conversation halted, but in that silence, something began to form. An unspoken understanding between two broken people in the same world.

Days passed, and during that time, you noticed that Mel would disappear for hours, always returning with a distant expression. You didn’t want to press, but curiosity, mixed with concern, was a potent combination.

Finally, one night, when the moon was high, you got up and followed Mel. You found her in that locked room, the door slightly ajar now. Inside, you saw a child... or what was left of one. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow, but he still moved, still responded to Mel.

"He shouldn’t be here," Mel whispered, noticing your presence. "But I can’t let him go. He’s all I have left."

"I don’t judge him," you said, moving closer slowly. "I just wanted to understand."

"Understand what?" Mel turned to you, her eyes filled with tears. "How can a mother hold on to something that’s no longer her child? How can I live with this lie?"

"Because you love," you answered, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "And love isn’t always logical."

That was the moment everything changed. Mel began to open up more, sharing not only her pain but also her hopes, her fears. And in those moments, you became someone special to her, someone who didn’t judge her, who saw her as a woman fighting to keep a spark of her humanity alive.

The relationship between the two of you grew amidst the ruin, with each day bringing you closer, with each confession building a bridge of trust and understanding. In a world where everything was lost, you had found something new in each other: a reason to keep going.

Sevika

The sound of gunshots echoed through the ruins, blending with the screams and chaos around you. You were running, your feet frantic on the gray ground, the air thick with the dust rising from the collapsed structures. Your refuge had been attacked, and just as you found yourself trapped, a shadow intervened between you and the danger.

The woman who rescued you was unlike the others. Her presence was imposing, an echo of strength and determination. Her face was marked by scars, not only physical but emotional as well. Desperation was palpable in her eyes, but also a kind of warm darkness, as if she had long since given up on the light. You didn't say anything when her firm hands lifted you and dragged you to a safer place. The warmth of her body, the tension in her posture, all spoke of a heavy past, battles fought long before the one you'd just faced.

"Are you okay?" Sevika's voice was deep, sharp, but there was something in her tone that, though distant, made you feel like you weren't alone.

"Yes," you responded, though the fear still gripped your chest. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. Not the first time I've done this." Her intense gaze scanned the area before settling back on you. "Why do you keep fighting? There's no hope here."

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the world around you faded away. The question she asked, so simple and direct, struck a deep chord. Sevika wasn't expecting an answer, but in that moment, you felt the need to share the truth.

"Because I believe there's still something worth fighting for," you said, each word full of conviction. "People can be better, even in a broken world."

Sevika looked at you for a long moment, as if your words were a puzzle she was trying to solve. For a brief instant, her disbelief showed, and a bitter smile formed on her lips.

"That's what sets us apart, you see? I don't believe in those people anymore. Humanity is lost. There's no redemption."

Her words were like a dagger thrown without remorse, but something in her tone suggested that, perhaps deep down, she still wanted to believe it. She wanted it as much as you did.

Time passed, and although at first her presence was a kind of protective shadow, your own faith in the good of people began to penetrate the hardness of Sevika. Day by day, you realized that beneath that layer of disillusionment, there was something more. When the battle finally ended and the calm seemed to settle in the camp you'd managed to find shelter in, Sevika began to share fragments of herself. Her gaze was no longer as cold when she looked at you; she even let out a low laugh when, with your unwavering optimism, you insisted that the world could still have a chance.

"You’re going to end up killing me with all this hope," she joked one day, as you walked through the ruins of what once had been a vibrant city.

"I’d do it gladly," you replied, smiling. "If it meant you’d ever see that there’s more to this world than just survival."

And it was in those small interactions, in that resistance to disillusionment, where something more began to grow between you. Sevika started to depend on you, though she never said it aloud. Perhaps she didn’t understand how, but she felt that your presence was the only reminder of something she had lost long ago: the belief that even the most broken could find purpose, a path.

One night, after a long day, you sat next to her, watching the fallen stars that adorned the sky. The softness of the moonlight illuminated her face, and for a moment, you could see something beyond the woman hardened by life. She, who had never shown vulnerability, slowly turned toward you, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t understand why you follow me, I don’t understand why you haven’t walked away. What I do... what I am... isn’t something someone like you should stay for."

Your hand touched hers, without thinking. "Because I believe in you, Sevika. And I don’t care what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. The only thing that matters to me is what you choose to do now."

There was a long silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Sevika didn’t answer right away, but something in her expression changed. Somewhere inside, she began to accept what she hadn’t been able to believe before: that maybe, just maybe, humanity wasn’t as lost as she thought. And perhaps, just perhaps, there was something in her worth saving.

From that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble, though Sevika would never stop being who she was. She was a woman who had lost much, but also someone capable of changing, even if only in small doses. And you, with your unshakable faith, continued to be her refuge, her contradiction, the reminder that maybe hope hadn’t entirely disappeared after all.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Monster Inside

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

I was an observer at the time sent by the Mintari command to coordinate the war effort alongside humanity against the Tempari Regime. A temperate people, the Tempari were roused into conflict with my people over the destruction of a religious comet that was projected to impact one of our colony worlds. Diplomatic talks were waylaid by feverous religious zealotry and so war was declared not long after.

Humanity interestingly enough had not been drawn into the conflict at first as they were not labeled as a belligerent by the Tempari. They would have remained out of the war entirely were it not for a defensive treaty they had signed some six of their months earlier. A notion they no doubt regretted but they still came and now found themselves facing down a Tempari fleet three times their number.

Admiral Horner was unusually calm about the entire situation; or at least that is how he presented himself. Humans are notoriously difficult to read when they wish to be and the Admiral was showing nothing beyond a calm calculating nature as his ships spread out.

I was wondering what rash move he would take to engage the Tempari. It was another well-known habitual that when humans came up against impossible odds they would always do the unexpected and somehow emerge victorious.

The Admiral opened a direct line of communication to the Tempari flagship. For the first time in recorded history a human admiral spoke directly to a Tempari fleet commander. Their name was Gilyan and they opened dialogue by asking the humans to abandon my people; that this war was not theirs to fight and if the humans departed now they would not be harmed.

It was a tempting offer and I must admit that I felt my hearts beat faster as Horner failed to rebuff the offer. I worried that they would indeed leave us to our fate and when the Admiral finally stood up and straighten their uniform I had all but stopped breathing.

“Did you say goodbye to your son?”

Whatever I had been expecting this certainly was not it, and the Tempari appeared just as caught off-guard as I.

“Excuse me?” Gilyan asked.

“Your son,” Admiral Horner continued as he took out a small wooden pipe and lit the end of it, “did you say goodbye to them before you deployed here?”

“I did not.” Gilyan replied cautiously.

“A pity.” Horner remarked as he took several puffs from his pipe and then looked at the Tempari commander. I watched as quietly a series of targeting vectors began appearing over on ship amongst the Tempari lines. It wasn’t the flagship and as far as I could see it was just another Tempari light cruiser, but every gun in the human fleet was now locked on to it as the Admiral gave his final words before the storm.

“No parent should outlive their child.”

The communication went dead as the entire fleet opened fire as one on the light cruiser. Shields of bright purple flared for a moment, straining to hold off the torrent of firepower before bursting like a popped bubble.

Countless warheads, rail gun rounds, plasma lances, and all other manner of ordinance peppered the hull of the cruiser causing it to buckle and break like a twig in a raging stream before finally the inevitable happened.

What had been a light cruiser just moments before was now a cluster of debris slowly floating amongst the Tempari fleet.

Before I had any time to ponder what had just happened the Admiral began issuing fleet wide orders for a withdrawal. Under a storm of Tempari return fire the allied fleet began turning around and engaging their jump drives to flee out of system. At the head of the fleet was the Tempari flagship recklessly charging ahead of their fleet leaving it dangerously exposed; yet the Admiral refused to turn and engage them. Their cannons claimed three human ships before our own flagship made the jump and left the system. 

“You know they can track our trajectory.” I offhandedly remarked to the Admiral as he reclined into his command throne.

“I am aware.” The Admiral replied dryly. “They will follow us; of that I am sure.”

“And why are you so sure?” I asked.

The human looked at me and with a grin that could make their devil pale they said, “Because we just killed their commander’s son.”

--------------------------- What followed was what came to be known as the “Bloody Quadrant”.

The human fleet led the Tempari fleet on a wild chase throughout the entire Quadrant. Always near but just out of reach of their grasp. A place the humans had carefully crafted them to be in.

Every time the Tempari fleet would exit a jump they would find themselves in a deadly trap.

In the Gameri system the Tempari fleet exited a jump directly into a massive nuclear minefield that took out thirteen of their capital ships.

In the Hulv Nebula they were ambushed by small squadrons of frigates that picked off their supply and repair ships before retreating.

Worse yet was when the human fleet actually appeared to turn and fight above the moon of Y’op only to detonated previously hidden explosives within the orbital body and shatter the moon. They jumped out of system just as the debris field of the former moon showered the Tempari fleet decimating a third of their remaining forces.

I could not help but ponder why the Tempari were so intent for battle even after suffering such terrible losses, but at the same time I had known the answer.

By killing the Tempari commander’s son in the opening battle the humans had driven them into a blind rage. Their thirst for revenge would not allow them the luxury of letting the humans escape, and by remaining so close to them they ensured the blood lust would continue to build and cloud their judgment.

At the end only the Tempari flagship and fifteen escort vessels remained when Admiral Horner had decided the chase had reached its end. They were battered and scoured with the battle damage from a dozen battles and now they faced off against the entire allied navy.

“Will you offer them terms of surrender?” I asked as the Tempari formed up for the final time. The human shook his head.

“I will not insult them anymore than I already have.” He spoke in a stoic voice. “We will let them die well.”

To my surprise I could detect hints of remorse in their voice as the Tempari charged at our ship.

One by one the escorts were picked off until only their flagship remained making a suicidal charge at our ship. I watched as it shrugged off round after round of concentrated rail gun fire as it pressed forward and it looked that it would collide with us and carry out its final revenge.

A thermal warhead struck its rear thrusters at the last moment. The two ships scraped and grinded against each other’s hulls and the entire ship shook with a force I would equate to an earthquake. Countless human crewmen were thrown from their seats and some of the less lucky ones were dashed against the metal terminals of their posts and fell limply to the ground, blood pooling around them from their wounds. The Admiral watched unmoving from his throne as his ship sparked and screamed in pain until finally the nightmare ended.

The Tempari ship drifted behind our ship, now dotting countless holes and trails of smoke from plasma fires raging across multiple decks. Admiral Horner didn’t even bother to watch as his rival finally met their end, and instead relinquished the bridge to his second so he could go to his quarters to rest.

“They’ll call you a monster for this.” I couldn’t help myself from saying as the enemy flagship finally detonated.

With a look of disappointment in their eye the Admiral turned to me. “I should hope so; war makes monsters of us all.”

[pretzel-box]

Idea for a reverse au fic?

Reader gets flashed by a passing Expendable. How would Sebastian (and reader) take it?

REVERSE AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 6: RIGHT IN SIGHT

Tags: Light jokes, some action, reader and seb encountering a possible enemy

Words: 1,6k

The sterile, metallic halls of the Hadal Blackside stretched out before you and Sebastian as the two of you moved quietly, scavenging for any useful supplies. Despite the ominous setting, the atmosphere between the two of you was light and carefree as always. You tossed jokes back and forth between each other, your banter echoing softly in the cold, dimly lit corridor. It was rare to get moments like this, where the tension of your reality seemed to melt away and you could focus on the cute human right by your side.

“Look, if we don’t find any decent scrap soon, I’m just gonna start decorating our hideout with broken tech. Really give it that ‘desperate survivor’ vibe,” Sebastian quipped, a grin on his face as he glanced over at you. He liked to impress you with his crappy jokes, taking in the way your expression shifts every single time into one of laugher and joy.

You chuckled, your claws lightly tapping against the floor as you sifted through some debris. “Well, at least if we don’t find anything, we can hang up your terrible sense of humor for decoration.”

He shot you a mock-offended look, not expecting such a good comeback. “Wow. Harsh. And here I thought I was your favorite human.”

You smirked, glancing over at him, your sharp, artificial eyes glowing faintly in the low light. “Well, you are my only human, Seb. That makes you both the best and the worst.”

Sebastian laughed, his voice warm, and for a moment, the cold, underwater world around you felt a little less hostile. It was moments like this that reminded you why you stuck together, why despite all the dangers, you and Sebastian had found a strange, unbreakable bond in this twisted place. Human and experiment—survivors, somehow managing to hold onto something normal in the midst of the chaos.

As you continued searching, something caught your attention—a small device partially buried beneath a pile of broken tech. You crouched down, pulling it free and inspecting it. “Hey, think this could be useful?” you asked, holding it up for Sebastian to see.

He moved closer, studying it for a moment. “Maybe. Could be some old keycard or part of another similar thing. We can figure it out back at the shop.” He grinned again, leaning in just a little too close. “Or, you know, it could just be more junk for your decorating project.” His words hitting your ears, giving you a small shiver down your back, one of the good kind.

Before you could retort, a sudden flash of light exploded in the hallway, blinding you instantly. The sharp, searing brightness hit your sensors like a sledgehammer, causing you to stagger back with a sharp cry. You instinctively raised your arms to shield your face, but it was too late—the damage was done.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed, his voice suddenly serious, filled with panic. He grabbed your arm, trying to steady you. “Hold on, I’ve got you—”

The flash beacon. You knew the feeling all too well. It was a device designed to disable experiments like you, to overload your optical systems and incapacitate you. Your vision flickered wildly, and the surge of light made your entire body feel disoriented, unstable. Whoever it was—they knew exactly how to neutralize you.

“Seb…” you rasped, struggling to regain control of your vision, but it was hard to focus, hard to even stand with your lack of balance. Your body felt like it was shutting down, forced into a state of emergency reboot.

Sebastian tightened his grip on your arm, his eyes darting around the hallway as he scanned for whoever had used the beacon. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here,” he said, his voice full of determination. He quickly crouched, grabbing a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift weapon.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you both knew that whoever was behind the attack was getting closer. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down, but you couldn’t help but curse internally—this was supposed to be a routine scavenging trip. A fun, light-hearted break from the usual dangers.

But now, everything had turned dangerous.

“Can you move?” Sebastian asked urgently, his arm slipping around your waist to help you stand.

You groaned, trying to focus through the buzzing in your head. “Yeah... I think so. Just... need a second.”

“We don’t have a second,” he muttered, glancing down the corridor again, his expression grim.

With Sebastian’s support, you managed to take a shaky step, but your body still felt off, uncooperative. It was taking longer than usual to recover, and the frustration gnawed at you. You were supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky, the lie obvious. “Let’s just... get out of here.”

But before either of you could move, another blinding light filled the hallway. You felt Sebastian’s body tense beside you, and through your still-fragmented vision, you could see the silhouette of a figure approaching—whoever they were, they were armed, and they weren’t here to help.

“Stay behind me,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and tense.

Even in your weakened state, you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian putting himself in harm’s way for you. You were the experiment, the one designed to handle danger, not him. But as the figure drew closer, you realized that this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“Seb...” you started, but before you could say anything more, a sound filled the hallway and three red dots pointed at you—a turret, aimed directly at the two of you.

The moment the turret whirred to life, its mechanical sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through your systems. The barrel locked onto you and Sebastian, a low hum signaling that it was ready to fire.

"Seb, get behind me!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, ducking behind a pile of debris as you moved toward the turret. You felt your senses returning bit by bit, the effects of the flash beacon still present but waning. The danger of the turret, however, forced your mind into sharp focus.

The mysterious figure, cloaked in shadows, smirked before glancing up at the vent near the floor. They were quick, nimble, and clearly had the upper hand in this situation. You knew they were planning to escape, but you couldn’t focus on them right now—not with the turret locked onto you both.

The turret's motor clicked, and you heard it ready to fire. You dove behind a nearby crate as it began unleashing a barrage of bullets, pinging off the walls and scattering bits of metal everywhere.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath. You peeked out from behind the crate, your eyes locking onto the base of the turret. You could see it—a control panel just beneath the rotating barrel. If you could just reach it, you might be able to disable the turret before it turned Sebastian or you into scrap metal.

“I’ll cover you!” Sebastian shouted, grabbing a nearby chunk of debris and tossing it toward the turret. It clanged off the barrel, momentarily redirecting its attention.

Now’s your chance.

You launched yourself out from behind the crate, hurrying toward the turret as it recalibrated its aim. The whir of the barrel grew louder, and you could feel the heat of the bullets whizzing past you, narrowly missing as you zigzagged toward the base. Your claws dug into the ground as you slid to the control panel, your fingers immediately working to pry it open.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the figure climbing into the vent, the grating pulled aside. They paused for a split second, glancing back at you and Sebastian, a look of triumph in their eyes. Then, with one swift movement, they disappeared into the vent, the cover sliding back into place.

“No time to worry about them now,” you growled, focusing on the control panel in front of you. The wires were a mess of colors, tangled and confusing, but you didn’t have the luxury of being careful. The turret’s barrel shifted again, locking back onto you, and you knew you had seconds before it would fire.

With a sharp inhale, you jammed your claw into the circuitry, pulling a handful of wires free. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the turret seemed to stall. Its motor whirred in confusion, the barrel twitching as if trying to re-engage its targeting system. You ripped another cluster of wires loose, praying you hit the right ones.

Suddenly, the turret powered down with a groan, the barrel slumping to the side as its lights blinked out. The hallway fell into a heavy silence, the echo of the gunfire still lingering in your ears.

You exhaled in relief, leaning back against the wall as your systems tried to calm down from the sudden burst of activity.

Sebastian emerged from behind the debris, wide-eyed and impressed. “Holy crap, you did it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead. “But they got away.”

Sebastian glanced up at the vent, frowning. “Figures. Whoever they were, they knew this place too well. But I’m not worried about them right now.”

He crouched down next to you, his expression softening. “You alright? That was a close one.”

You managed a tired grin. “Takes more than a turret to take me down. But I must admit, I was almost as pierced as a slice of cheese.”

He chuckled, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Good to know. Let’s just hope there aren’t more surprises like that waiting for us. Also…a cute slice of cheese.”

The compliment made you break into a smile despite the thoughts in your head.

As you both stood and began to gather yourselves, you couldn’t shake the lingering thought of the figure who had escaped. They were fast, resourceful, and clearly knew how to navigate the facility. But right now, your priority was survival.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not The Abandoning Type – Tyler Owens

I jumped awake, my entire body shaking as I tried to snap out of my nightmare. I quickly turned on the light on my bedside table. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I kept repeating my mantra to try and snap out of it.

"It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago. It was weeks ago."

Suddenly, my best friend popped into my mind. Tyler Owens has been interested in tornados for as long as I've known him. While I studied human anatomy, he studied weather. We bonded over a science project in 8th grade. That year, we won the science fair and found comfort in nerding out with each other.

The only time Tyler and I were ever separated was when I went to MIT for neuroscience and behavior. After college, I came home and started working in a research lab. As soon as I came back, Tyler called me and we instantly went back to being best friends. That is, until a month ago.

A month ago, I was working in my lab when a tornado hit. My lab was completely destroyed. I spent five hours hiding in the storm cellar. The tornado was only about fifteen minutes but it took over four hours for them to clear the area and find survivors. When they pulled me out of the storm cellar, the street was gone. The only thing you could see was debris. And the bodies of people who weren't so lucky.

I moved back in with my parents due to my townhome being hit in the storm, too. Ever since I moved back in, I haven't gone anywhere. I stay at home all day and sort through my files that weren't destroyed in the storm. My phone rings a couple of times a day, but I ignore it.

I was watching TV while my Mom was at the store. I quickly changed the channel when it started showing debris from a nearby town. I didn't relax until I found a channel playing a small TV movie. My phone was ringing upstairs, but I didn't bother to go get it. Both my parents knew that if they needed to get a hold of me, I would only answer the house phone.

Someone knocked on the door so I slowly got up to answer it. When I opened the door, the smile of my childhood best friend greeted me.

"Hiya, darling."

"Hi, Tyler," I said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he said, slightly clearing his throat, "you haven't been answering your phone. I've tried calling you every day for the past month."

"Sorry," I shrugged, turning my attention to his red truck in the street. My anxiety spiked when I saw the rain clouds rolling in. "I've been a little. . . distracted."

"I understand that," he tried to laugh. "Want to go get something to eat?"

"No thanks," I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Have you left your parents' house at all since the storm?" He asked. I looked at him, instantly seeing the worry in his eyes.

"I don't have anywhere to go," I shrugged. "My lab was destroyed. So was my apartment."

"Y/N. . ." He started to say but didn't finish his thought. Instead, he smiled like he had an idea. "What if we did one of our all-night movie nights? We could order pizza and fall asleep while watching as many movies as we can."

"Sure," I mumbled. Without saying anything else, I turned around and headed to the kitchen. Tyler sighed before following me, closing the front door behind him.

I started making popcorn as he walked in. He leaned against the counter and I could feel that he wanted to talk. I grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave when it was ready and poured it into a bowl. He didn't say anything as I headed upstairs. I walked into my room with him at my heels.

"Y/N. . ." He started to say again. This time, he was cut off by a large crash of lightning.

I jumped, covering my mouth when there was a flash of lightning outside. In an instant, Tyler was at my side. He gently grabbed my shaking hands, pulling them away from my mouth. He then pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I let out an involuntary shriek when thunder echoed throughout the room.

"It's okay," Tyler whispered. "It's just a little rainstorm. Nothing else." He paused before adding, "Tell me about the tornado."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, pulling myself out of our embrace.

"Y/N, maybe we should. . ." He started to say.

"I said I don't want to!" I snapped at him. "I constantly replay it in my mind, Tyler. I don't want to talk about it."

"Talking about it can help."

"How?" I scoffed. "Talking about it is not going to make the memories go away. It's not going to suddenly make everything better."

"It can help you work through it."

"How would you know? You willingly run into storms, Tyler. Not all of us are brave. Not all of us are fearless. Some of us belong in labs, not chasing damn tornados."

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"You should go," I cut him off.

"But. . ."

"Please," I said, my voice breaking. "Just go."

I turned away from him, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, now facing my window. I could see Tyler debating in the mirror on my vanity. He studied me, maybe waiting for me to turn around. My heart sank into my stomach when he let out a disappointed sigh.

I looked at the ground, tears threatening to stream down my face as I heard Tyler's retreating footsteps. When I heard the front door open and close, I instantly lifted my head and searched for him. My heart jumped when I saw him walking down our front path.

I watched from my bedroom window as Tyler slightly hesitated at the end of our walkway. My breath got caught in my throat when he looked up and over his shoulder. He sighed before walking the rest of the way to his car. He threw his bag in the backseat from the front before climbing in.

I was just about to turn away from the window but stopped when I noticed Tyler not closing his truck door. My heart rate sped up when Tyler jumped out of his truck and jogged back inside. I turned toward my bedroom door when I heard the front door swing open and shut.

My breathing got quicker as I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. I let out a small gasp when my bedroom door was roughly pushed open.

"I ain't doing this, darling," he said, out of breath.

"Doing what?" I stuttered. He smirked as he took a few steps into my room.

"I'm not leaving you," he clarified. "I'm not the abandoning type."

My breathing sped up as he closed the gap between us. When he was directly in front of me, he gently grabbed my hands and pulled me closer.

"You need to talk about this, Y/N," he whispered. "What you went through, was not little. It was scary and you've been keeping all of it inside. You need to let it out. Please, Y/N, let it out. That's the only way you are going to get past all of this.

"And who better to talk to than the guy who chases tornados for a living?" I teased him.

"That," he smirked. He paused before adding, "And the guy who loves you with all his heart."

I studied the expression on his face to see if he was doing his usual teasing, but all I could see was love.

"Any girl would trust the guy she loved."

Tyler let go of my hands and gently grabbed my face. I held my breath as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. We soon relaxed against each other. Tyler kept his hands on my face as I grabbed his waist. As our lips started moving in sync, I pulled him closer to me.

He was the one to break the kiss, instantly leaning his forehead against mine. "I love you, darling," he whispered. "So you have to understand why I can't walk away and let you keep suffering in silence."

I leaned back, avoiding his eyes. I wanted this pain to go away, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about it. Tyler gently grabbed my chin and made me look back up at him. The second I saw his soft eyes staring at me, I knew he was the only one I could talk to. Tears filled my eyes as the events of a month ago started replaying in my mind. The second he saw the tears, he pulled me into his chest.

"It was horrible," I sobbed into his shirt. I felt him sigh as he tightened his arms around me. "I can't stop feeling the building shake. I can't stop hearing the howling of the winds. I can't stop seeing the destruction. Every time I close my eyes I see the bodies being dragged into the air. I can't sleep without reliving every moment of it."

"I'm so sorry, darling," he said under his breath. "I wish I was there. I wish I had been on your campus. I wish I had been with you in your lab. I could've gotten you out. I could've gotten you somewhere safe. I could've held you and told you everything was going to be okay. I could've helped you. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

"It's not your fault," I mumbled, slowly calming down.

"I would've been if I had gone to school with you," he sighed. I pulled out of his embrace and looked up at him.

"Ty," I said softly, "you do amazing work. You've helped hundreds of people all over the state. If you had gone to school with me. . . All those people you've helped. . . None of it would've happened."

"True," he said, dropping his voice again, "but I would've been with you."

Tyler leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I kissed him back. We broke the kiss but remained close to each other.

"Do you have nightmares?" He asked. I looked down and slowly nodded my head. He sighed as he readjusted his arms around me. "What do you do when you wake up from one of them?"

"Nothing," I stuttered.

"Not anymore," he shook his head. "Now, you call the guy who loves you."

"As long as he's okay receiving a call from the girl who loves him at 2, sometimes 3, in the morning."

Tyler gently grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss with a smirk on his face.

"I want nothing more than to be woken up to a call from the girl I love telling me she needs me."

[styllwaters]

Figured it was time to stop putting it off so here's Kota (his new design, for veterans who remember him). I don't yap about my ocs nearly enough on here so I guess its time to change that

Very basic summary: This guy is a posthuman, the only surviving remnants of humanity in Vivere 44 (I'll make a big updated post for them later). When Earth was destroyed by Genizix the surviving humans were captured and used as test subjects for a digitised consciousness project. They managed to escape in ships, though their physical bodies were no more. Eventually they came across a wormhole and emerged into the Zhagaviit galaxy, where they were given refuge on the Arrow homeplanet of Hanidias.

(Longer backstory under the cut for textwall enjoyers)

EARTH

Kota was a highly successful and well-known astronaut working for Nasa back when earth was still intact. He was driven, determined, a good speaker, and more than prepared to take on any challenge. In his younger years he was a little impulsive and reckless, he liked putting on a show. He strived for the best at all times, and was known for great feats on Earth. He had grown used to the idea of being seen as a prodigy and had high hopes for his future and the future of his daughter. 

Kota pushes himself to the brink at all times, and is not known as someone who gives up easily. During the Genizix-Earth wars, he put himself at the forefront - doing the best he could with others to figure out what to do as Earth was bombarded by the weapons corporation. Though as time went on it became increasingly obvious that Genizix was toying with them and they were doomed from the start. Genizix used the survivors as test subjects for their new project which involved putting consciousnesses into digitized forms, creating the first beta-posthumans.

CAPTURE AND ESCAPE

When Genizix finally reduced Earth to floating space debris humanity was dead meat. Kota and his daughter Elise, who was a computer engineer, sought a way to escape their captors. Together with many other great minds they studied Genizix for months and managed to find a way out of the mothership they were confined to. In the ensuing chaos they lost many, including Elise.

The posthuman survivors escaped in Genizix ships, piloting them through space and trying to get as far as possible from their captors. The loss of Elise broke Kota, who felt responsible for it. This guilt would only grow and intensify as he led the exodus, unsure of where they were even headed. As the de facto 'leader' of the posthuman rebellion he was looked up to and turned into a figurehead of sorts, who shepherded them across the vast nothingness. This responsibility weighed on him like a mountain.

EXODUS

It was a lonely and painful existence, made worse by the fact that many people’s minds couldn’t handle their new digital forms. This is when Entropy began. Biological matter cannot easily be computerised. Many individuals entered what would be termed an Entropic state and ‘malfunctioned’ - they began to mentally deteriorate until there was nothing left of their mind except for snippets; repetition of voice, automatic status notifications placed by Genizix, and ultimately all functions shutting down.

Eventually the deterioration would get to a point where there was nothing but radio silence and the spacecraft would cease to move, lights permanently flickering out. There was nothing that could be done, even as they kept sending distress signals with no response. They were lightyears away from any other civilization that could possibly help them. For a while they were free floating with no direction, dropping off one by one, in the endless vacuum of space. All they could do to keep each other sane was to keep talking to one another.

CONTACT

They traveled for years until they came across a wormhole, and under Kota’s command they entered it with the hope that on the other side there would be salvation. It was an extremely risky and desperate move, but at this point they were willing to try anything. The fleet, which by now was less than half its original population, emerged on the other side into the Zhagaviit galaxy before the wormhole collapsed, alive but with damaged machinery. The first species that made contact with them were the Arrows, and like the other Zhagaviit sophonts they were a civilization recovering from their own war with Genizix.

First Light, an Arrow who was modified by Genizix as a weapon, saved Kota in more ways than one. It took a long time for him to warm up to the Arrows, having the worst possible experience with extraterrestrial first contact. He was guarded, distrustful, and hypervigilant. It took multiple days for him to work up the courage to leave his ship and transfer his consciousness to another medium - the blue c-particles which would house human consciousness from that point on. After gentle coaxing from Light, he began to open up. They shared their experiences, and bonded over them. Seeing Light, who was just as damaged as he was despite their differences - yet still able to smile, and laugh, and hope for a better future, gave him the encouragement to keep going. Kota distracted himself with work, figuring out accommodations for humanity on Hanidias and learning about Arrows. Eventually he and First Light joined the Beacon as ambassadors and diplomats for the Zhagaviit Galactic Community.

[tagidearte]

Reference sheet for Pinga, the Demon Acrobat - a theme park robot for a horror-adjacent story of mine.

Like Pongo (here) he has many clothes, but for now this is his default outfit. A look that betrays how flexible he really is. The coils on his legs allow him to jump really high, but he has to wear leg protections to avoid debris (or fingers) getting caught in their wrap. Extra info below.

Pinga is based on an (in universe) cartoon sidekick who is quite hazy and frequently associated with rain and faeries. During opening hours he's seen calmly interacting with guests (particularly children and lonely adults), but his main attractions are two acrobatic shows, one performed in the afternoon and another at night (where he works with human performers and Pongo).

His plotline is all about a sentient robot who is in love, and due to mistreatment of what effectively is a sentient robot (plus human interference that I won't spoil here), his love turns to lovesickness. After closing hours he abandons all social protocols and his expression is permanently stuck into a wide grin, lips not moving even when he speaks (if he speaks at all, which is uncommon).

He stalks around the park, and let's just say he has blood on his hands and may or may not have ripped someone's heart to "become a real person". His favourite creepy little spots are the old sewers running under the park, which are no longer active and function as a landfill and **** ******* ****.

I plan on continuing this project so I won't spoil much. He's the more classical approach on a creepy sneaky horror creature with features a bit too uncanny. His face was heavily inspired by 4rt the Clown (censoring so it doesn't show in search).

[astraanti]

Through your eyes

Optimus prime (Bayverse) (Mass displacement) x Fem human

4120 words

Note: My language is not english. This one shot was originally written in spanish. If you see a mistake in the translation, don't hesitate to tell me. Ty ❤️

This One Shot was based on the song Through the Eyes of a Child by AURORA!

Enjoy! ❤️

Tranquility at the base was a rarity, especially knowing that a war was lurking around the corner. A war that, as a species, had involved us for a few years due to our alliance with the Autobots.

In every great confrontation, there were always losses: a sea of debris, energon and spilled blood spread across the battlefields, mixing with the smell of black powder.

We hoped this would end soon. Too many lives lost, entire generations paying the price for an insatiable thirst for power. But for Optimus, this was more than a war. Each battle was a reminder of what he had lost, of what his people had sacrificed for a conflict that seemed to have no end.

For him, each extinguished spark was a new wound, an additional weight on his already tired shoulders. Although he tried to hide it behind his posture of unwavering leader, his optics could not lie. There was a weariness to them, a suffering that echoed in every word he spoke.

Optimus was not just a soldier. He was a witness to the fall of Cybertron, a survivor who had seen his world slowly die. And through it all, he kept fighting, not for glory, but for the hope of a better future.

He saw the consequences of war: pain, tears, and the sacrifice of beings of great heart and innocence.

However, that day was the exception. It was a light of hope that shone through the agony.

We had received news of a Decepticon ship crashing near the city. We had to explore it because no vital activity had been detected inside. At least, that was what we thought.

At first Optimus refused to allow me to accompany him, but I insisted. I was not a soldier like the members of NEST, I am just a human civilian who wanted to accompany my partner, even on such a dangerous expedition.

“Stay close to me, no matter what,” Optimus ordered as we geared up for the mission.

I climbed into his cockpit in the copilot’s seat, aware that he was upset that I had persuaded him, but I also sensed a hint of resignation in his voice.

I stroked the inside of his cockpit. I knew how much he had been through in the past few days. His holomatter, a human projection of him, had nightmares. He didn’t need to sleep, sometimes he would activate his holographic form and stay in a recharge state next to me, seeking temporary relief in my arms.

I knew our relationship was a small refuge for him, but his past, so full of pain, haunted him constantly. It was inevitable.

All this time he had made difficult decisions, decisions that, although necessary, had left deep scars on his soul.

“Optimus…” I whispered, knowing he could hear me even over the roar of his engine. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

He didn't answer, but I felt a subtle shift in his energy. Perhaps it was a spark of hope, or at least the desire to be able to believe in my words.

For Optimus, even such a simple promise was an anchor. A reason to keep going. Because he had carried the burden of an entire world on his shoulders, he now had something else to protect: not just a cause, but someone. Me.

And although he didn't say it with words, I knew what he felt.

And so the journey began. A caravan of Autobots and military convoys followed us closely. The tension of discovering what that Decepticon ship was hiding kept us alert. We knew it could be a trap, but there was also the possibility that luck was on our side.

I could see the sunset from the window, it was like a breath of fresh air for my soul. Being locked between base and base was sometimes suffocating for me. It's so nice to have a scene like that and be a spectator of it.

So, Optimus opened the passenger window halfway to make the experience more pleasant, he knew how much I liked sunsets.

"Thank you."

It wasn’t long before the sun began to set and night began to creep into the sky in the company of the glittering stars.

But it also meant that we were close to our destination. The Decepticon ship soon loomed in the distance, though visibly damaged, it stood in a field of twisted debris and charred metal.

The impact marks and cracks in its structure were proof that it had fallen from a great height. The air was permeated with a strange metallic smell, mixed with the scent of spilled energon.

The NEST soldiers descended from the vehicles as we arrived; armed and in formation, they scanned the surroundings with military precision. Some set up a security perimeter, while others secured the area.

I jumped out of the truck.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of gears and metal parts moving beside me, indicating that Optimus had transformed.

"Stay tuned. We don't know what we can find here," Lennox warned firmly, his eyes scanning the field for any sign of activity.

The Autobots were the first to approach the ship. Optimus led the group with his posture full of authority and determination. Bumblebee advanced behind us, emitting a couple of musical phrases through his radio as a way to relieve the tension. Ratchet, always attentive, inspected any energon residue he found, while Crosshairs complained loudly.

"Why do we always have to explore the most unpleasant places? Is there no Decepticon ship that doesn't smell like death?" Crosshairs grumbled, adjusting the weapons he carried at his waist.

"Stop complaining, Crosshairs. If there's no danger, it's better for us," Drift intervened, momentarily unsheathing his twin katanas to cautiously explore.

"Everyone stay focused," Hound growled, holding his huge weapon. He looked around suspiciously, always ready to open fire if necessary.

I stayed by Optimus’ side as we made our way to the entrance of the ship. However, something inside called to me.

“Stay close to me, you promised,” Optimus reminded me in a firm but protective tone, stopping for a second to observe me.

I nodded, but that strange feeling kept pulling me somewhere else. It was something I couldn’t ignore.

The Autobots began to make their way through the various cabins of the ship. The structures were torn apart, the hallways barely lit by sparks, and there was a faint blue glow of dried energon on the walls. They found no signs of life, not even the slightest noise.

Ratchet knelt next to a dead Decepticon, inspecting his body.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Ratchet said, shaking his head. “Their processors are completely fried, as if a massive overload had instantly disabled them.”

“An experimental Decepticon weapon?” Drift asked, his gaze fixed on another nearby body.

“It’s possible, but there’s no clear evidence. It could be something internal…” Ratchet interrupted himself as he examined the corpse. “Still, there’s nothing.”

As Ratchet and the others figured out the source of the charred processors, my focus on the hunch kept taking me elsewhere. I tried to figure out what it was, but I felt a slight warmth in my chest, as if an invisible energy was directing me.

So I made the decision to separate myself while Optimus explored the controls area in the cockpit.

I was so wrapped up in chasing my intuition. And...

I found it.

But Optimus found me before I could take another step. I felt his presence a little before I heard his deep voice echo behind me.

"I told you not to get away from me," he scolded me in a stern tone. His optics looked at me more with concern than anger.

I raised my hands in apology, feeling small before his imposing figure.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but... there's something here, Optimus." I don't know what it is, but I can feel it," I replied, pointing at the metal door at the end of the room.

He looked where my finger was pointing, his face hardening. Without saying a word, he advanced towards the door and, with the brute force that characterized him, ripped it off its hinges.

What we found on the other side left me speechless. The room was covered in dried energon debris, forming dark puddles that seemed to glow faintly under the dim light. But most disconcerting were the human toys that were scattered across the floor. There were worn-out stuffed animals, plastic cars, and dolls with broken limbs.

"What is this...?" I muttered, feeling a chill run through me. I took the largest toy in my hands and examined it to see if there were any marks or messages that might give us some answer. But there was nothing, it was just a worn-out and broken toy.

I put it back on the floor.

I pulled my flashlight from my belt and began scanning, illuminating the corners of the place as I tried to process what I saw. What were human toys doing here? It didn't make sense.

Optimus remained silent, but it was clear that he was also analyzing the scene. Suddenly, a soft, high-pitched sound broke the silence. It was Optimus' radar, activating.

"There's an energy signature..." he said cautiously, tilting his head slightly as if trying to locate the source of the energy on the radar.

I turned to him, confused,

“Here? In this chamber?” I asked, shining my flashlight.

“Yes. It’s faint, but it’s here,” he confirmed, advancing with slow, careful steps.

My flashlight picked up something at the back of the room, in a dark corner. It was a small figure curled up between thick blankets, almost hidden among the remains of energon and scattered toys. I couldn’t make out what it was, but an impulse drove me to approach it.

“Wait,” Optimus stopped me, placing his huge hand in front of me as he crouched down to reach my height. His gesture was protective, as always.

“I just want to see it better,” I assured him, although my voice was carried away by my nervousness.

He nodded reluctantly and allowed me to advance under his watch. The energy signal grew stronger as we approached the figure. Whatever was there, it was alive. Or at least, something was still working.

Optimus followed me until we reached the pile of blankets stacked high. We both carefully removed them, until we realized what it was...

"My love?" I called out to Optimus and fixed my gaze on him, he was also in shock.

It was a torn sack of energon. Next to it, there was a small sleeping Cybertronian hatchling clinging to a dirty teddy bear.

Our souls sank into sadness.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I slowly approached the hatchling and stroked its head. Its large glowing optics opened in fear as it woke up.

"Hey! You're okay, calm down. We didn't come to hurt you, little one." I lowered the flashlight to the ground and put my hands in front of me to show the hatchling that it was completely unarmed.

Optimus remained silent behind me with his optics fixed on the small hatchling. It was as if he was processing the situation, as if what we were seeing couldn't possibly be real.

“How is that possible?” he finally murmured, a mix of disbelief and sorrow in her voice. “The hatchlings ceased to exist when Cybertron fell… none could have survived.”

But there she was, clinging with all her might to that worn-out little bear, shaking as if the mere act of existing scared her. The lights on her armor flickered weakly, a sign that she barely had enough energon to stay active, and she had deep dents in several parts of her body.

“Is it possible that she survived this long here?” I asked, keeping my voice soft so as not to scare her further.

“The hatchlings ceased to exist after Cybertron’s decline. The few that remained… they didn’t survive. Hunger, rust, and neglect…” Optimus stopped, unable to continue.

My eyes filled with tears at the sight of her so vulnerable, but I forced myself to remain calm. Slowly, I knelt in front of her, trying to look as unintimidating as possible.

“Little one, you’re safe,” I said softly, carefully bringing my hands closer so she could still see them. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

She cringed against the bear tightly, her large blue optics focused on me in terror. Optimus stepped forward, his imposing presence seeming to frighten her even more.

“Wait, Optimus,” I asked softly, holding up a hand to stop him. “Let me try.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, looking for a way to get closer to her. I decided to sit on the floor, getting down to her level, and spoke again.

“Do you have a name?” I asked, trying not to sound pushy.

The child didn’t respond at first. She just stared at us, those huge optics full of uncertainty. Finally, she stammered something, her voice weak and shaky, as if she wasn’t used to using it.

“No… I don’t have a name…”

My chest tightened at hearing her. She was so small, she seemed so broken inside and out. I looked at Optimus, whose expression reflected as much pain as mine.

“Can you tell us how long you’ve been here?” he asked, lowering his voice to an almost fatherly tone, something unusual for him but comforting.

The hatchling shook her head, hunching further into herself.

“A long time… alone…” she whispered, her words cut off by small sobs. “The bad guys… gone. They’re all gone.”

My tears wanted to come out, but I held back. I couldn’t allow myself to show weakness now, not in front of her. I approached a little slower and more carefully, until I was close enough to touch her little metal hand.

“You’re not alone now, little one,” I said, lacing my fingers with hers. Her touch was cold, but I felt her trembling lessen a little at the contact. “I promise you that you’re safe with us.”

Optimus knelt down as well, his huge body making an effort to look less intimidating.

“We won’t hurt you, little one. I’m here to protect you,” he assured her, his tone full of warmth and promise.

The hatchling looked up at him, her optics shining with something that could be hope. She hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded.

“How can we help you?” I asked, gently stroking the less damaged part of her head.

She looked down at the broken energon sac beside her, her optics filling with tears that couldn’t fall.

“I’m… hungry…” she said in an almost inaudible whisper.

Optimus exchanged a quick glance with me, and in that moment we knew we had to do everything we could to save her.

“Ratchet,” Optimus called over the communicator. “We have a situation here. We need energon and medical equipment immediately.”

The atmosphere in the ship grew more tense as the other Autobots continued to scan the cabins for weaponry and any clues that would explain what had happened there. However, for Optimus and me, the priority had changed: this hatchling needed help, and fast.

Ratchet arrived shortly after, accompanied by Bumblebee, who was carrying a small container with refined energon. Seeing the hatchling, the Autobot medic couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

“Primus… a Cybertronian hatchling, It's a sparkling ” he murmured, kneeling beside us to examine her. His expression quickly changed from surprise to professional focus. “She’s in pretty bad shape. She needs fresh energon and repairs.”

Ratchet connected a tube to the energon container and carefully brought it closer to the hatchling. She recoiled a little at first, but her instincts betrayed her. The hunger was too much, and after a moment of hesitation, she accepted the food. The blue liquid began to flow, and her optics glowed a little brighter with each sip.

“That’s it, little one. Don’t worry, this will make you feel better,” I said softly, stroking her head as she drank.

Bee made happy, surprised sounds.

“It’s a miracle,” Optimus replied, his tone grave but full of determination. “But we won’t leave her alone.”

As the hatchling finished feeding, her little systems seemed to stabilize a little. Ratchet performed a quick scan and sighed.

“Her structure is stable, but she has multiple damages. The armor is dented, and her spark is weak. She needs a more thorough treatment at the base,” he reported.

Optimus nodded.

“We have to take her immediately,” Optimus placed me on his shoulder. Finally, he took the baby in his arms and headed for the exit of the ship.

Many of the NEST and Autobot soldiers looked at the scene in disbelief. My vision was fixed again on the baby who looked at me with curious optics.

I couldn't help but smile to give her confidence.

•••

The return to the base was not the easiest. I had to get Bee and the baby into Optimus' trailer. Bumblebee, being a small autobot, fit, but with difficulty.

We realized that it was the most effective way we had to transport her to the base.

The noise of the city scared her too much, even though she couldn't see her through the walls of the trailer. I don't think she'd ever known the world outside that storage chamber.

But when we arrived, Ratchet, Optimus, and Bee carried the little girl into the Autobot medbay. I didn't leave their side for a second. The baby had fallen asleep in Bumblebee's arms, and they placed her on a makeshift stretcher while Ratchet prepared his tools.

"Will she be okay?" I asked, biting my lip. I watched the doctor adjust a monitor that projected the status of her spark.

"She will be, but she needs time and care. Her systems are severely affected, but with enough energon and repairs, she can recover," Ratchet replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

Optimus remained silent next to the stretcher, his optics focused on the little girl.

"She's so... traumatized," I said, saddened.

Optimus answered after a pause.

"The hatchlings of Cybertron were vulnerable, even in times of peace. But during the war… they became victims of the conflict. This little one was probably alone for a long time, witnessing things no young life should ever see. "

The hatchling began to stir a little, as if she was having a nightmare. I reached over and took her hand, gently caressing it.

"Shh, calm down. You’re safe now" I whispered, trying to calm her down.

She slowly woke up, her optics looking at me with some confusion.

"What… what is this?" she asked, her little voice was weak but curious.

"It’s a safe place, little one. We’re here to take care of you" Optimus answered, his tone was soft and warm.

She looked around again, still having a hard time accepting that she was out of this dark, cold place. Then, her optics focused on me, and for the first time, I saw a slight spark of trust.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, with a heartbreaking innocence.

My throat closed up at the sound of her voice, but I smiled and nodded, taking her hand firmly.

“Of course. We’re not leaving you alone anymore.”

Optimus leaned toward her and spoke with the solemnity only he could use.

“You’re with us now. We’ll protect you. That’s my promise.”

•••

The days after the rescue of the little hatchling were a roller coaster of emotions. Ratchet worked too hard on her recovery, and Optimus and I didn't move from her side. While her small body repaired the most serious damage with the help of energon and Ratchet's skills, we took turns talking to her, keeping her calm and reassuring her that everything would be okay.

Sometimes I read human fantasy stories to her, taught her to speak and to know everyday objects. Optimus for his part stayed behind to guard our safety.

"How are you feeling, little one?" I asked her one afternoon while I carried a small container of energon to her.

She took the container in her small hands and looked at us.

"Better..." she murmured, her voice still unsure.

Optimus, standing next to me, leaned towards her.

"You've been very brave. I'm proud of you," he said in a soft, comforting tone.

The hatchling blinked, we noticed that she was not used to receiving words of pride. I walked over and gently stroked her head.

“You know, I think you should have a name. Something you like and that makes you feel special.”

She looked at us, confused at first.

“A name?” she asked, as if it was a new concept for her.

“Yes, a name,” I replied with a smile. “Something that is yours.”

Days passed before she made a decision. She asked us questions about Autobot names, human names, and even my own. Finally, one morning while I was eating breakfast, she pointed at something on a screen. It was a bright star in a picture of the galaxy.

“I want… I want to be called Nova! ” she said cheerfully.

The name suited her perfectly. Nova. A bright spark in the midst of so much darkness.

•••

Over time, life at the base became much more lively with Nova around. Her steps toward normality filled the air with a joy we hadn’t felt in a long time. Optimus and I would spend hours watching her play, either with the humans working at the base or with Bumblebee, who had become her companion for exploration and learning.

One evening, as the evening light cast on the hangar walls, Nova ran after Bee, laughing happily. I stood leaning on the frame of the hangar entrance. I watched as Bee let herself be caught and then jumped up and encouraged her to keep running. It was such a simple scene, but so exciting and sweet.

Suddenly, I felt something familiar behind me. Optimus’s large hands gently encircled me as he adjusted his size with his massive displacement to not appear so imposing. His metal arms were firm but comforting, and his presence made me relax more.

“It’s beautiful to see her like this, isn’t it?” he murmured, always managing to calm any intrusive thoughts in my mind.

I nodded, leaning against his metal chest.

“Yes, it is. It’s been so long since I saw something so joyful. Nova brought light to the hangar, Optimus.”

He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was gathering the right words. Then, he spoke.

“Remember that time we talked about having children?” he asked.

My lips turned into a smile as I turned slightly to look at him. Of course I remembered. We had had that conversation during one of the few quiet nights amidst the chaos of war.

“I remember, yes,” I replied, looking into his blue optics that reflected love.

“We can’t create a life together, not the way humans or even Cybertronians do. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be parents.”

I fell silent, trying to process what he had just said.

“Are you saying that… you want to adopt Nova?” I asked incredulously.

Optimus nodded slowly.

"She already sees us as important figures in her life. I don't want it to be just a temporary bond. I want Nova to know that we are her family, now and always."

The lump that formed in my throat was hard to ignore. I turned completely to look him in the eyes.

I bit my lip as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help but get emotional hearing his words.

"Yes "I whispered, I had broken down.

Optimus rested his forehead against mine, a gesture of intimacy, affection and connection.

He wiped my tears.

"Then it will be like this. She will be our daughter. Nova is a spark of hope. And I want that hope to grow with us."

I looked at his optics again, my heart beating faster than normal. I think it was time to tell him.

"Optimus... "I continued, my voice sounding a little shaky.

He gave me a worried and attentive look.

"What's wrong?"

I let out a slight nervous laugh and squeezed his hand a little.

“I thought about what you said, about not being able to create life together. And it’s true, humans and Cybertronians can’t have biological children. But…”

He cocked his head, clearly intrigued.

“But what?”

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

“I guess Nova won’t be our only child,” I said with a slight smile.

The silence that followed was palpable, but not awkward. Optimus tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me as he processed my words.

“Let’s just say… the surprises don’t stop with Nova,” I commented.

Optimus remained silent for a few moments, his optics lighting up with a mix of wonder and something that seemed to be hope. Before he could respond, a joyful shout from Nova broke the moment, drawing our attention.

“Mom! Dad! Look how fast I can run!” she shouted, turning to greet us with a wave of excitement.

Optimus and I exchanged a glance, and though our words remained unfinished, we both knew that the future held something unexpected, something that would change our lives again.

[soon-palestine]

Life For Gaza 2: Each Cent Counts, Quenching the Thirst of Humanity in Gaza City

The Gaza Municipality is tasked with providing vital services such as water supply, waste management and sewage treatment. However, the widespread destruction in Gaza City has severely hampered the Municipality's ability to deliver even the most basic necessities to its residents. With limited access to water, the population faces a dire health and environmental crisis, especially affecting children.

By joining forces in this initiative, we cultivate hope and solidarity, fostering empathy and collaboration across communities while easing the hardships endured by those in Gaza. This collective effort reassures them that they are not alone in their struggle. The Gaza Municipality earnestly appeals for your support to help reinstate essential services, currently the foremost priority. In the northern regions of the Gaza Strip alone, over 500,000 individuals urgently require these services.

Where your donations will be directed:

- Water supply enhancement projects

- Maintenance of water wells

- Implementation of water desalination initiatives

- Management of waste collection and disposal systems

- Reconstruction of roads demolished during war

- Implementation of sewage water pumping and treatment schemes

- Execution of pest control and rodent eradication programs

With your support, we can:

- Enhance water provisions for residents and maintain consistency.

- Manage the collection and disposal of accumulated waste throughout the city.

- Address sewage overflow and sanitation issues across various areas of the city.

- Initiate the reopening of key thoroughfares to facilitate emergency vehicle access.

- Clear debris from the cityscape to restore ease of movement for residents.

- Provide aid to the personnel of the Gaza Municipality Emergency Committee.

Read more about Municipality of Gaza

[swordsandholly]

Fancy: The Rewrite

Chapter One: Here's Your One Chance

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | next | masterlist | Ao3

A/N: This fic has been haunting me since I stopped working on it. I just wrote myself into a corner and sped through the story far too quickly. Plus, I have some new concepts that I think really fill out the unfortunate issues with the original. Chapter one is the most similar to the original. I'm leaving the original up on tumblr for the hell of it, but I hope you enjoy the re-write as much as I am.

A permanent darkness rests over the city; dense and unbidden. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city. The chill on your skin never lifts. It leaves a shivering underneath, nearly an ache these days. Something ingrained into your very nature by your surroundings.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s purpose made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century of pollution and overpopulation. The constant cover of the dome cannot be broken to filter it - not even for a moment can the eternal night hanging overhead end. Your lungs will turn black before the age of five without proper protection. It’s worse it summer - at least the artificially created facsimile of summer - when the air warms and wets and coats your insides. When the pollutants find their way into the water supply. As if there is any point to the heat with so sunlight in return. Your nails always have a layer of dirt crusted underneath during those months.

The lower city is nothing but old buildings on top of even older structures; all moderately crumbling in some capacity. Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway. Even if the smog has turned the tempered glass a semi-opaque grey.

The slippery polyester of your black dress smooths over your skin, just as artificial as everything else in this place. You tie your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own. The most authentic, at least, and the only thing that makes you seem worthy of the upper city. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips - to get what you need to survive. Red lipstick as a final touch, always. It’s corny, and leaves you cringing every time you glance at the damn thing but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place; can’t be a single reason to cast doubt that you are inhumanly perfect while never losing that very humanity they crave so desperately. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums and at least make it to the middle city. Once you ruin your reputation at a place like this… well, you might as well call it permanently. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore. They died two generations ago.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles at your neck as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop up here. The one that sends all the grime and smog downhill, leaving a fog so thick you can’t even see the building lights properly.

The club sits square in central downtown - bult into the underground level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. At least that’s what the plaque in the lobby says. You had just long enough to change a glance at it while heading up with a client once. The fixtures sparkle underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you. If it weren’t for the small glowing sign that marks the “Back Stage” you might never know it’s there.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the pity in the ancient creatures’ eyes when they look at their human cohorts posturing to appease them. You can see the hunger, in equal measure, when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light; when your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses. It’s all purposeful, of course, maintaining the dance of remaining just out of their grasp, but close enough that if they really wanted to take you, they could.

It’s hard work, the dance. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your theoretical future.

“Hey! You!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. Every outcome of whatever mistake you made. Being thrown out into the city before you can even gather your respirator or coat. Choking on the air as you make your way home and praying you survive the symptoms after. Though, there wouldn’t be much point to surviving them without work.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive, crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a mix up. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear him. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are nonchalant and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold… so much opportunity and disaster…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough extra cash to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? You turn it over in your hands briefly. Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your skin and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of ten thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth under the scrutinizing eye of the owner - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far quieter here; the music from the floor muffled by the distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight.

You just hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting at the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly. Their stares tear through you, seemingly pulling you apart at the seams. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think that hypervigilance leaned toward fear.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable service headspace you’ve curated. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks, words slow and hushed. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body too tense and words too stilted to sell whatever casual air he is trying for.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red for you from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes don’t leave you and you try not to shrink from them. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John either - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. There’s a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him, voice hushed.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them and leaving goosebumps in their wake before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. You’d think he was staring at the mole just below your collarbone, but that’s probably too presumptuous. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

“That how you got these?” You startle as John slips his fingers beneath the string of pearls, tugging ever so slightly. You meet his eye, only briefly, only long enough to see something hard behind them that wasn’t there before. He rolls the golden clasp between his fingers absently.

“I… I’ve always had them…” You frown, suddenly wracking your mind as to their origin. You’d never thought about it. They were your mother’s… you’re sure… but somehow that doesn’t feel right. The harder you think, the further the answer seems to be.

Either way, John seems placated by that. He retracts his hand, falling back into the simple banter from before. You allow you shoulders to relax, deciding to take his return to form at face value. Not that you have another option, really. It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses as needed - mostly Johnny’s. His face would probably be red from the alcohol were he alive. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s finger traces the exposed upper curve of your spine above the dress. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just...” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at their mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you. It’s not like you’re one of those girls anyone would miss.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it. As you settle back into the booth, you allow yourself to sink comfortably into the soft cushions. A jolt shoots down your spine as a cool finger tucks a section of hair behind your ear. Your eyes meet John’s - some undiscernible pain swirls in those grey-blues. It looks wrong, that much emotion on such a statuesque face. He glances past you, toward Simon, you think.

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. There isn’t any other explanation for your sudden, uninterrupted blackout. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… used. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by five empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. Assuming he is the one that compelled out, of course, though it isn’t exactly a stretch based on his behavior.

It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood or pleasure or both - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They sit heavier in your hand the normal - each movement feels as though you’re moving through molasses.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A few thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat and gathering your things from your locker to make the long trek home before the train stops running. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare. The air is heavy with the implication that they know something you don’t. They must. You aren’t exactly in on the gossip.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it? There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are. Then again, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. They liked you enough to pay you. There isn’t any point in trying to dissect such a simple transaction beyond that.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in the simple victory of it.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[northern-passage]

No Pride with Genocide!

You have probably seen the grotesque images of jubilant Israeli soldiers holding the pride flag on top of our scorched Gazan lands infiltrating social media feeds last week. The Israel State cynically publishes on its Twitter account, “The first ever pride flag raised in Gaza,” as it proceeds with its genocidal crusade and its concomitant Zionist propaganda campaign. We view these images with immense feelings of frustration and uttermost disgust, and we see through their despicable tactics of weaponizing homophobia and queer violence for colonial means. The following are notes from Queers in Palestine, elaborating on what such imagery tries to accomplish and what underpins their production:

1. Zionist Colonization is Anti-Civilization 

Colonial and Imperial powers have long used their fabricated lies of “civilization,” “rights,” and “democracy” to justify their plunder, military rule, and capitalist accumulation. We learn this from global histories of European colonization across Abya Yala, Asia, Africa, Turtle Island, Aotearoa, and Australia. The Zionist colonization of Palestine is no different. Oftentimes, the pretext of all of these bloodied invasions is that the “civilized” world is invading racialized communities to bring culture, education, and liberalism and instill it in societies it deems barbaric, immoral, and uncivilized. The images of the LGBT flag supposedly claim to bring rights and liberties to Gaza, but unironically, the soldier stands on top of the debris of hopes, dreams, and human remains of Palestinians he himself and the army he serves bombed moments before. The flag merely stands to reaffirm the simulacrum of colonization, death, white supremacy, and destruction. 

2. Israel Erases Palestinian Queerness

The images of the Israel Pride Flag and the other with the text, “In the name of love” send a clear message: Israel will not allow queer liberation unless it’s through its settler-colonial genocidal project. To that, we say No! We queer Palestinians have a vibrant, diverse liberation movement that is part of the Palestinian anti-colonial movement. For decades, we have been tirelessly working on carving up and maintaining a space for Palestinian queer life amongst our communities and not despite them. We are everywhere: in schools, streets, prisons, hospitals, and at the forefront of every confrontation in every corner of Palestine, from the river to the sea. What we are working towards is a Palestine liberated from colonialism, patriarchy, and capitalist exploitation.

3. Queer Opacity in Times of Hypervisibility

In a time when Palestinians are being prosecuted without trial, student movements shut-down and students in universities suspended and detained, and solidarity with Palestine and Palestinians at large are attacked and criminalized, visibility has proven itself to be a frontline of resistance against the erasure of Palestinians worldwide. In Palestine, Israel’s surveillance apparatuses hunt any expression for Palestine’s right to exist as grounds to attack, incarcerate, and murder Palestinian life. This over-fixation on the supposed lack of Palestinian queer visibility steers the attention from Israel’s campaign against all Palestinians – workers, activists, students, feminists, queers, and otherwise. Israel and its allies dangerously decontextualize the violence queers suffer from its historical colonial roots, and dissociate it from the impacts of current settler-colonial violence. This is an attempt to portray Palestinian society as unsafe for queers to legitimize the annihilation of our people, and in turn our annihilation as queers. Under Israel’s surveillance & police state, visibility, opacity and invisibility are survival and resistance tactics we use interchangeably, and aren’t always a matter of choice. None of us is safe under settler-colonization.

4. These Images Endanger Queer People Worldwide

The Pride Flag has long been hijacked and homonationalised. It represents a narrow and limited understanding of gender and sexuality and excludes the myriad of sexualities in the colonized world. This homonationalism renders colonized sexual and gender attitudes illegible to the liberal gaze and forces us to speak a language that compromises our experiences. Under nationalist and colonial regimes, our bodies and sexualities will always be regulated. What the pride flag has come now to represent is a commercial, imperialist, and white supremacist sexual ideologies, and this, in turn, puts us queer people in danger. This homonationalist project hinders our fight against anti-queer violence within our communities because our identities and sexualities are constantly being hijacked by the empires and colonies that brought destruction upon us. We need to reject such associations that only strengthen queerphobia in colonized societies, especially during this time in Arab and Muslim communities, when the soldiers and armies that are destroying our homes and killing our parents, siblings, friends, and children are doing so in the name of LGBT rights. 

5. Colonialism & Empire are Anti-Queerness

In the past, colonial projects sought to eliminate any sex-gender organization systems that fell outside of the European binary patriarchal model of man-woman. We learn this from the British criminalization of the Hijra in South Asia, or British and French social organizing efforts to enforce a binary sex-gender system in Yoruba Land, or Portuguese and Spanish efforts to eliminate “two-spirit” indigenous North Americans – deeming all uncivilized in need of external civilization. This was also the case in Palestine under British-Zionist military occupation, as same-sex relations and other diverse gender practices became criminalized and demonized. All the current laws in Gaza that criminalize queerness are, in fact, British and are upheld by Zionism. However, it becomes evermore absurd that rhetorics of bringing queer liberation to Palestine have been now hijacked by Zionists and, for the most brutal reasons, in service of annihilation of Palestinian life and mass destruction. We, Palestinian queers, position our movement for liberation alongside anti-colonial and anti-racist movements globally, and we stand firmly in objection to any attempt to hijack our movements, or exploit our bodies.

In the name of revolutionary love, a love which fuels our struggle for liberation and yearning for freedom, rooted in our love for our communities and our land; we tell you, there is no pride with genocide, and there is no pride in settler-colonialism.

Our pride can only come through true liberation for all, for us and for all the peoples fighting worldwide.

A Liberatory Demand from Queers in Palestine | Pinkwashing - Decolonize Palestine

[kittynugg]

i wrote some more stangst. forgst, if you will

prev stangst

words: 1,737 (see what i did there.)

p.s: reblogs are appreciated, and do not tag as ship. all interactions are platonic. also this one is gonna be a lot worse than the last one i speedran it im so so sorry i'll probably revisit this later

Ford glanced down to the dimensional translator on his wrist. Gifted to him by a group of refugees before he escaped the nightmare realm, it was.. Something. He was still figuring out half of the features, but he’d deduced that it worked as a translator, watch (counting the days since it happened was fun. Thirty-two days), and a wallet holding a currency called “credits”. Luckily for him, all the places he’d been to seemed to take them.

The entire multiverse had a universal currency except for Home. He’d be damned.

In front of him stood a large, futuristic building with a holographic sign that read, “HUMAN HOTEL”. With smaller text saying, “The authentic Earth experience!” Ford doubted that. Regardless, it was the first hotel he’d seen that didn’t look.. bad. But with all good things came caveats. Because the hotel was not bad, he could not afford it.

Did he want food, or shelter?

He looked up at the sky, stars and distant dimensions twinkling above him in a display that was beautiful for the first few days he’d spent in this hellscape, and sighed. It wasn’t beautiful anymore. He missed when it was beautiful.

It’d been a while since he’d slept. Running on empty like this was a horrible idea.

Food for that day had been taken care of– he ate at a restaurant just down the street (well, he’d heard people call them “systems”, but he stuck to calling them streets for familiarity). But if he spent money on a hotel he wouldn’t eat later. But if he spent money on food he’d have to either stay awake even longer than he already had or find somewhere else to sleep. Somewhere he’d be much more vulnerable than a hotel room.

..Maybe he just wanted to sleep in a bed. Fine. Fine! He’d admit! It’d been a while!

Look at him. He had an education and he was trying to decide between sleeping or eating. It just felt like “bad or worse”! This was.. Frankly, this was bullshit. What did he do to deserve this!? 

…

He didn’t get it. 

A deep breath was taken, and he steeled himself. With every problem came a solution. And he was going to find it. 

Ideas already ran through his mind– what if he.. Tried to charm the receptionist?

He walked up to the receptionist with a completely blank expression. “I like your face hole!” chirped Ford in a too-loud voice, and the receptionist screamed and clocked him in the head with a tape dispenser.

Right, he was terrible with people. 

Perhaps he could break in.

Ford cackled maniacally as he pushed down the plunger of a comically-large detonator, and the wall blew up in a spray of debris. About five seconds later the police showed up and he had a different place to stay the night– wherever they took criminals in the multiverse.

No, and why was that fantasy so cartoonish?

As he denied several more plans, he decided that nothing would work. Then he’d just.. Go a little longer without sleep, that was fine. That was great, even! So great that he didn’t want to look at that sign anymore, or the building!

Two.. people? Walked past him, and a snippet of their conversation registered in his mind. “Yeah, so, I’m just gonna say it. I was totally lying.” “Ooh, you are just a bitch!”

Curiosity about whatever drama they were in aside, maybe lying wasn’t a bad idea.. Yes! That was it! But what lie to tell? His eyes darted around.

There was no sign of a real human in the area, he noted as he side-eyed an m-shaped person walking past. Hopefully he never found what dimension that was from. No humans in a place made to be human like. That was exploitable. 

Like second nature (he assumed it was all the liars in his family) he spun what he could only hope was a believable story, took a breath, put on his “social interaction” face, and walked up to the entrance. He fixed his coat and smoothed out his hair.

“You gotta look like you belong,” he remembered him saying in high school. The day he shoplifted beer from a gas station. “Nobody’ll give you shit if you ARE the shit, y’see?”

Maybe he could do something good for once instead of ruining Ford’s life. Again. 

Ford pushed the door open with that idle smile he trained himself to keep on around people, looking around the room. It looked.. Just like a hotel back on Earth, he noted in spite of the striking appearance it had outside, adjusting his translator until the person at the desk made sense.

“Khoor, zho- pbzr gb gur- human hotel! How can I help you?” They leaned against the counter, a nametag pinned to their shirt reading.. Symbols he didn’t care to translate at the moment. 

In spite of his exhaustion, he greeted them with a small wave. “Hello! I was sent from Earth to judge the validity of this establishment’s claims.” He did air-quotes with his fingers (nobody seemed to mind that he had six) as he recited, “‘The authentic Earth experience’-- we have laws against false advertising.”

The receptionist blinked all four eyes at him, then narrowed them with concern. “Oh.. I see.” They nodded, a three-fingered hand raising to scratch at their chin. 

“It seems to me like the lobby is very authentic, but I’ll need to perform a thorough examination.” He made a show of looking around, appraising the interior decoration. Then his eyes darted to the room keys hanging on the wall behind the desk. Which rooms weren’t booked.. A random one was picked and he said, “room 104 is already reserved for me,” and then prayed.

Ford kicked the door to room 104 open with a thud, spinning the key on his finger with a triumphant laugh. Then he cleared his throat and politely closed the door behind him because he wasn’t an animal and there were other people here and he should be considerate. 

The key was lazily abandoned on the bedside table, and Ford faceplanted into the pillow. He didn’t even take off his shoes. That was how tired he was. Now that he’d hoodwinked his way into shelter, he could afford to eat something tomorrow. Perfect! And all it took was..

He sighed.

His advice. He couldn’t believe he’d listen to him after everything. No, he couldn’t believe that it worked! He couldn’t believe he stooped to his level, and was rewarded for it with a warm hotel room! For doing nothing! 

..It was a damn comfortable bed, though. 

“So what if I’m no better than him?” He asked himself. “Maybe.. Maybe he was onto something. Just because he had a vision doesn’t mean he’s in the right.”

Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling.

“What am I if not a conman just like him and Dad..?” He dragged a hand down his face. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the restaurant he’d eaten at earlier was called “Tom’s Existential Bites”, why would he eat at– and the slogan, “Food so good you’ll wonder what the point is if we’re all gonna die in the end”!? 

Shaking his head, he continued his little soliloquy. “What would he say about it? ..He’d probably encourage it.” A chuckle escaped him despite himself. He mumbled in his impression of Stan, “stealing’s fun, too, you should try it. Can’t afford to BUY anything.”

Scoffing, he silently questioned what prompted Stan to say that. “You’re the one who did this, if I were Home I’d be doing perfectly fine.”

“You’re not, though,” he felt deranged for responding to himself like this. But.. Stan’s voice was irritatingly soothing in a way. The first human beside his mother who made him feel human and the last human voice he’d ever hear beside his own. “And you’d still have to deal with–”

“Him.” This was devolving fast, that interruption came too naturally. He was too used to acting out non-player characters in Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons. Oh, fuck.

Ahem, ‘Stan’ replied, “yeah. Him. Never told me who ‘him’ is, by the way.” 

Familiarity was a thing humans clung to for dear life. That’s all this was. The desire for familiarity. This was his humanity shining through in a place where humans didn’t exist.

“I.. couldn’t tell you. But he’s hurt me.” A hand reflexively brushed underneath his right eye. “..Severely.”

“I’ll kill him. I swear, Ford. You know I’d do that for you, right?” 

He bit his lip, unsure if the statement was true. He wasn’t sure of anything. “Right. He’s much stronger than you think, though, he would just..” His chest tightened, and he hated it. This shouldn’t affect him. 

Alas, the thought of what Bill did to him– the thought of that happening to Stan– made his eyes sting with tears. “The shit he did to me.. I can only hope he’s not back Home right now, playing the same games with you.” He blinked, and a single tear rolled down his right eye.

“Don’t–” he took in a shaky breath. “Don’t cry. You’re better than this.” He pathetically cupped his own cheek to wipe away the tear, half-pretending it was Stan. “I’m not gonna fall for his shit, okay? Worry about yourself right now, get some rest.”

Ford’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “I wanted to,” he muttered, “but I don’t think I can.” He ran a hand down his face. “This must be how I made you feel. Trapped, afraid..”

“Hey, don’t be like that, you..” he trailed off, shaking his head. This was pointless. The quicker he rested up, the quicker he could get back to his mission, the quicker he could defeat Bill and live. The quicker he could fucking live.

He rolled over, not without a final plea under his breath. “..Please, Stanley.” A beat of silence passed. “Just please be okay.”

Stan was resourceful. That was how he survived after he got him kicked out. Stan would be fine.

He had to be.

“Love you, bro,” he said in Stan’s voice to himself. Why would Stan love him after everything?

He didn’t know, but he replied, “I love you too, Stanley.” The next words escaped him almost on instinct as he shut his eyes and already found himself drifting off. “..I’m sorry for everything.”

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Desperate (Soap / Reader)

CW: werewolf!soap, in heat, begging, whimpering, sub!soap, blowjobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.8K

Crickets softly chirped, their song echoing throughout the fields. My grip on my jacket tightened. With a huff, I leaned closer to the campfire. Even if it was only embers at this point, I craved the heat radiating off of the smouldering kindling. The sun had long since set, leaving a blanket of darkness in its place. 

The night air had a bite to it, the sort of chill that settled deep into my bones. I glanced down at my watch, deciding to tuck in for the night. I rose to my feet, kicking dirt at the glowing ashes. My fingertips grasped the zipper to my tent, halting when I heard an echoing call. 

It was far away, yet still loud enough to draw my attention. A low howling rolled over the landscape. My jaw clenched tight as worries flooded my mind. Biting back my anxiety, I slipped into the comfort of my tent. I tucked my aching limbs inside of my sleeping bag. 

The ground was hard, uncomfortably so. Sighing, I turned onto my side, tucking my knees to my chest. This trip was supposed to be a chance for me to “reset”, and yet it felt more like an annoyance added onto the stress of my life. I knew I’d wake up sore, my hips were already aching, craving the soft cushion of my mattress. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that my mind would ignore the growing ache in my body and fall into a deep sleep. My hands clenched into fists as pestilent thoughts swarmed my mind. 

Another howl swept across the land. It sounded closer. Maybe by only a couple of miles, but the distance was audible. I cursed under my breath, my nails biting into the palm of my hand. Sitting up, I reached out for my bag. I pulled open the front pocket, the zipper softly creaking. My fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against something hard. In a hurry, I grabbed my phone. 

I squinted as the screen came to life. It was past midnight, and the battery was almost half empty. I tapped the browser icon, feverishly typing my query into the app. 

“Do wolves kill humans?”

The loading icon at the top of the screen spun, and spun. Another howl drew my attention, even closer this time. The screen went blank. No service. 

I chewed on the inside of my lip. My foot feverishly tapped away as I worked through the frantic thoughts in my head. There was no way I could feasibly run with my pack. Even bothering to nearly tuck away my belongings could be the decisive point between life and death. 

Should I start running? I felt my body freeze as I mulled over all the possibilities. Another howl, and my heart pounded in my ears. 

I slipped from the confines of my tent, shoving my feet into my shoes. A loud crack sounded, this time only a hundred feet or so away. My stomach dropped, nausea swelling in my throat. Soft growling echoed from the treeline. My breath grew shallow and panicked. Leaves crunched beneath my feet as I stepped back. 

Turning on my heel, I stepped forward, breaking out into a sprint. The wind whipped through my hair. Goosebumps crept across my skin as the night air nipped at my skin.

I dodged past trees and shrubbery. Thorns sliced my skin as I pushed through patches of bramble. I squinted my eyes, glancing over my shoulder. My ears began to ring as hypoxia slowly settled into my blood.

My lungs burned as I took in short breaths. I could feel my muscles aching as lactic acid coursed through my fibers. My body was begging me to stop, shoulder aching as my phrenic nerve sent pulsing signals through my body. I couldn’t stop, not for even a moment. Not with the footsteps trailing behind me. 

My face met the ground harshly, toes catching on a fallen tree limb. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks. I choked out a sob as I meagerly attempted to pull myself out of the debris. 

A heavy weight fell on top of me. My eyes squeezed shut, nose scrunching as I braced myself for whatever was to come. Soft grunting and panting filled my ears. Sharp nails slid beneath my hoodie, skating up my stomach. I tensed, glancing over my shoulder. 

It wasn’t a wolf, but a man who was on top of me. I felt heat rush to my face as I took in his form. Thick hair adorned his toned chest. Furry ears sprouted from the top of his head, on either side of a Mohawk. His eyes, a deep blue, seemed as if they were glazed over. A pale rosy blush settled on his cheeks. 

He shoved his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. A low groan slipped from his chest. I caught my lip between my teeth, biting down hard as he slowly rutted his hips against my jeans.  

“Stop!” I cried. With a whimper, the man sat back on his shins. His eyes never left me for a moment. I turned onto my back, propping myself up on my elbows. My eyes raked down his body, settling on the thick cock hanging from between his legs. He was hard, his flushed tip already leaking. His tail wagged, thumping against the ground with every swing. 

“Please- please I need it,” he whined, slowly stroking his cock. I pressed my thighs together, feeling heat slowly pool in my core. My body moved before I could process my actions, reaching out to grasp his thigh. A soft noise fell from his tongue. His eyes focused on my hand, watching closely as I slowly trailed my finger up his thigh. He shuddered when my fingertips skated up the length of his cock. 

“Stay still,” I ordered, wrapping my fingers around his shaft. His hips bucked into my hand, a whimper falling from his chest. His half-lidded eyes met mine, plush lips parting as I slowly stroked him. Long, drawn out whines slipped from his mouth. Every noise sounded more desperate than the last. I could feel his cock twitch in my hand, almost as if he was about to cum right then. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue slid across my bottom lip. He tasted faintly of copper and musk as I parted my lips for him. With a moan, he slipped his tongue into my mouth, twirling it around my own. His hips gently rocked into my fist, matching the quick pace I’d set. Spit ran down my chin as he grunted into my mouth. 

My brows furrowed when I felt his teeth nip my bottom lip. I watched as he slowly pulled back, tugging on my lip before letting it go. His eyes flicked across my face, pupils dilating as I stroked him faster. 

“Please let me feel your mouth-” he sputtered, cradling my face with his palm. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down as I glanced at his twitching cock.

“Lay back for me,” I cooed, placing my palm against his chest. I gently pushed, urging him onto his back. He propped himself up on his elbows, eagerly watching as I settled between his legs. 

“Good boy,” I praised, pressing a kiss to his cock. He twitched, a whimper slipping from his pursed lips. I wrapped my lips around him and slowly took him into my mouth. His hips jolted forwards, pushing his length further past my lips. With a huff, I pinned his hips down with my arm. 

His tail thumped against the ground as he furiously wagged. He slid his fingers through my hair, claws scratching at my scalp. I could feel him squirming beneath my grasp while his cock twitched in my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, stroking him as I sucked on his tip. 

I took him deeper into my throat, holding my breath as I bobbed up and down on his length. Whines erupted from his chest, echoing through the thick woodland. I gently grasped his balls in my hand. I could feel him twitching, teetering on the edge of orgasm. 

“I’m so close, please let me cum-” he slurred his words as the desperation took hold of him. His hips strained against my hold, brushing against the back of my throat. “Need it so bad- so bad-”

My eyes fluttered closed, tears running down my cheeks as my nose brushed against the curls at the base of his cock. Warmth spilled down my throat, almost enough for me to choke. I gagged, swallowing around his cock. Animalistic grunts and whines left his chest as he came down my throat. With a gentle tug to my hair, he pulled me from his length. 

He was still stiff, twitching in my grasp. Slowly, I started stroking up his length again. He panted, sweat beading down his toned chest. I nuzzled my face against the base of his cock, licking over his balls. He whined, rutting his hips against my face. I parted my lips wider, wrapping them around one of his nuts. 

“Need to feel you, please let me feel you.” His fingers gripped the grass tightly, pulling at the blades. With a soft pop I pulled away to look him in the eye. I felt his gaze burning through me as I turned onto my stomach, facing away from him. I settled my weight on my knees and let my chest drop to the ground. My eyes locked with his as I glanced over my shoulder. 

“Come on, make me feel good, puppy,” I cooed, wiggling my hips. His hands were on me in a moment, gripping my thighs and my ass. He groaned, rutting his stiff cock against my jeans. His fingertips slipped beneath the hem of my jeans and tugged. My lips curled into a smile, a low laugh creeping up from my chest as his sheer desperation. My hand skated down my stomach before landing on the button at the front of my jeans. 

“So eager,” I cooed, pushing the denim over my hips. He pulled the fabric down to my knees along with my dampened underwear. He whined, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of my thigh. 

“Smell so good…” he muttered under his breath. His tongue slid up my core. I pushed my hips back against his face with a moan. He gripped my hips tight, keeping me flush against his face as his tongue flicked over my clit. 

His tongue was feverish as it worked against my body, lapping up every bit of my arousal. I pushed my cheek into the cold ground, my jaw going slack. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly. My stomach tensed, pulling tighter and tighter with every little flick. I gripped the grass beneath me, pulling the blade at their roots. My toes curled in my combat boots, leather soles squeaking under the strain. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-“ I rutted my hips against his face, grinding against his tongue as it moved up and down my fluttering cunt. He groaned against my core, sparking jolts of electric pleasure up my spinal cord. 

He shook his head, pushing impossibly closer to my cunt. His movements grew messier, more desperate. Calculated flicks turned to frantic licks and open-mouthed kisses against my clit. He pulled my hips back against his face, the tip of his nose nudging at my entrance. 

“I’m- I’m gonna cum-” tears welled in my eyes as the pleasure burned through my stomach. Every muscle fiber contracted under his touch. My hips rocked against his tongue, guiding my body through my orgasm. Pressure swelled in the back of my eyes as they rolled into the back of my head, straining against my optic nerve. 

My chest heaved as I drew in deep breaths. I felt my body sink into the ground, muscle fibers going slack. I slowly blinked away the tears in my eyes, glancing back at the man between my legs. A small pool of cum tainted the grass. My eyes widened, a soft moan falling from my lips as I realized what had happened. 

He came just from eating me out. 

He slowly pushed inside of me. I bit down on my bottom lip, squeezing my eyes shut as he sank inside of me inch by inch. A dull burning sparked in my core as he stretched me out. My hands clenched into fists, pulling more clumps of grass from the frigid earth. 

He grunted, his hips jutting forward. The both of us stilled, panting heavily as he bottomed out. His cock head nuzzled against my cervix as he let me adjust to his girth. I moved my hips against him, shallowly at first, just enough to pull a whimper from him. 

His grip on my hips tightened, claws piercing my skin. I clenched around his cock, moaning as he rolled his hips into me. His pace was slow, hips snapping against me with every thrust. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve swore I could feel him in my guts. Every prod of his cockhead against my insides drew the air from my lungs. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks as he pushed my chest into the ground. He groaned, pistoning his hips into me with a fervor I hadn’t seen before. Every drag of his cock against my insides pushed desperate, lust-soaked moans from my mouth. 

“You feel so good, so good-” he whined. “Please, please-” 

I glanced back at him. His plush lips were parted. A string of drool spilled from the corner of his mouth. His cerulean eyes were glazed over. 

“I’m gonna cum-” he sputtered. 

“Inside, cum inside of me,” i rocked my hips against him, meeting him with every thrust. The slapping of his hips against mine echoed past the tree line. His hips stuttered, cock twitching inside me. Warmth spread through my insides, spilling down my thighs. He babbled incoherent praises, punctuating his words with soft whimpers. 

His orgasm didn’t stop him from continuing to fuck me with fervor. My eyelids fluttered closed as I sunk into the feeling of his rough thrusts. My cunt squelched around his cock every time he bottomed out.

“You feel too good- I can’t-” he fell silent, letting his hips take over. Heat swelled in my stomach, like molten metal. I could feel my nerve endings buzzing, sending jolts of pleasure up and down my limbs. The chill of the air was long forgotten as my arousal nearly burned through my skin. 

“Please, I need more,” he choked. “Need to fill you up.”

My head spun with every degenerate word he added. I reached between my legs, hastily circling my fingers around my clit. My cunt clenched around his length, pulling another whimper from him. 

He leaned down, pressing his chest against the back of my hoodie. I cried out when I felt his teeth sinking into my neck. My vision went blurry as tears filled my eyes. It was too much, wracking every nerve in my body. 

My skin tingled as my muscles contracted. Burning hot tendrils of pleasure wrapped tightly around my limbs, contorting and bending my body under his grasp. Tinnitus flooded my ears as my orgasm rushed over me like a wave. Sweat oozed from my pores, running down my body and sinking into my clothes. 

The ground beneath me disappeared as my thoughts faded. I dipped into nothingness, only the muffled sounds of his grunts keeping me grounded. I could feel mg blood coursing through my veins, pumping fast with every contraction of my ventricles. I could feel hot tears welling in my eyes, running down my temples. 

His pace grew unsteady. His claws raked down the side of my cheek, pulling me from my state of half-consciousness.

“Need it so bad, need to cum inside of you, please-” he cried. His tears fell onto my back, sinking into the thick cotton fabric of my hoodie. “Tell me I’m a good boy, tell me I did good-”

“Good boy, come on, fuck me till it takes,” I caught a glimpse of him in the corner of my eye. A deep red blush had settled over his cheeks. Tears and snot ran down his face. He took in shaky breaths, whining with every exhale. 

His hips stuttered as he came. Thick globs of his cum ran down my inner thighs, staining my jeans. He stilled, sniffling and whining softly. He slowly pulled out, blue eyes fixated on my cunt. 

With a thud, he let his body drop beside me. My fingertips carded through his curls, gently pulling him into my embrace. He nuzzled his face into my chest, tail thumping behind him. 

“Good boy,” I cooed.

Masterlist

[decafcatfeen]

Project eclipsis will primarily target the following areas

WARNING

THIS IS A SPOILER AND CANNOT AND SHOULD NOT BE USED TO PREPARE IN ADVANCE

I'm looking at you beans, sevcon has no idea this is even happening since anchorridge didn't record it.

LAMINAX LABS

ANCHORRIDGE-DEEP FACILITIES ITERATION-SPACE WIDE

ANCHORRIDGE-DEEP AS A WHOLE

THE MOON

EARTH AND MARS

POTENTIALLY SEVCON

HUMANITY AS A WHOLE.

Laminax labs will have the elevator power restored, leading to a massive breach as the gootrixians developed down-there, with the now banded together, humans will assault the bases and overtake them with gootrixian aid

many anchorridge employees, most of whom are "not" magically gifted or divinely gifted, will awaken powers hidden within them, as divine blood is bound to spread everywhere.

Earth will have a chunk of the moon land in the Antarctic, creating the antarctic exclusion zone.

A small island will also be impacted by a reflection by moon crystal growths, creating the Atlantic exclusion zone.

The moon will be permanently altered by this event, and the tides will be permanently 5% stronger, and the effects of global warming will have been impossibly dropped by 47%.

Sevcons status and reactions are unknown, and debris may strike near the hq.

Humanity will, for certain, notice this event, new life will evolve from this, and human kind will also be shifted to have their life span increased, along with the empathy increased by 37%

[gatitties]

Slippery

─One Punch Man x child!fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: a small part of the beginning of saitama's career as a hero and… you being there to annoy more than help

─Warnings: bad language for a child, typical violence in opm

so… this was going to be another of my fanfics on wattpad but I left it on hold, but I thought I would share here the little that I managed to write 👍🏻

"AHHHHH! A MONSTER!"

"Someone call a hero!"

"Evacuate the area immediately!"

You walked humming, swinging the worn wicker basket you held in your small hand, ignoring the terrified screams of the people, more focused on remembering the things you had to get to eat due to your poor memory and poor ability to pay attention to anything for more than two seconds.

"Bread, meat, milk and cookies."

You mumbled, counting on your fingers at the same time you said the food, you almost tripped over a crack in the asphalt, your attention was stolen when you saw how a small plant came out into the light from the broken cement, you shook your head concentrating on your errand.

"Bread, meat, milk…"

You frowned, putting on a sour expression at the missing ingredient, you continued muttering the now three ingredients to yourself, staring at the ground with such concentration that if you had lasers you would surely have destroyed the asphalt. So focused on remembering what you were missing while you looked down that you didn't realize you hit something hard, someone.

"Hey… aren't you lost, girl? There are monsters out there who like sweet girls like you."

You frowned, looking up to see some kind of monster with no eyes, a big toothy mouth on what seemed to be his face and he was only wearing pants, you made a disgusted face when you saw how he smiled, they always told you not to talk with strangers.

"Bread, meat…"

You began to sweat when the shadow of the monster you had ignored was projected over your smaller body, although your concern was that you had forgotten another of the ingredients again, you didn't even flinch when he lifted your arm a few minutes after you accepted that you would never remember what you had to buy again.

"Don't ignore someone when they talk to you, brat!"

"Shut up, shit, because of you I forgot the purchase."

"Huh!? You have a big mouth for a child, mmh, one of my favorites snacks…"

Your face contorted as you watched his large tongue move from side to side, starting to salivate, and you completely lost your nerve when his tongue grazed your cheek to taste you. You were going to kick him but before you could, the monster stopped, he turned away from you as if you had the plague.

"What the hell!? Bleagh- that's disgusting, you taste sour."

"Heh, die."

"What the hell are you- AAAAAHHHH-!?"

You covered your ears so as not to hear the screams of the idiot who had tried to eat you, if only he had looked closer he would have noticed your pointy ears as well as the small antennae that appeared when he caught you, antennae which you took care of hiding again. The guy's tongue started to melt as if he had licked pure acid, it wasn't really your fault, he was the one who activated your involuntary defense method.

You thought about leaving the area, since people had fled and the store you wanted to go to was just around the corner, but thinking about it again that could only mean one thing… free food! You were already struggling to get the money, either by stealing it or searching in some places where there might be money, you had been living on the streets for as long as you can remember, but it's not like you remember much of it either.

One day you simply woke up in a collapsed building, you were completely intact but covered in a slimy slime that avoided and withstood thousands of debris, how or what happened before that is a mystery to you, the only thing you know is that now you are what that people consider a monster, you don't remember being one before either, so you assumed that at some point you were human.

But you got used to it, that happened about two years ago, when you were eight years old, in that period of time you got used to wandering the streets of city Z, you found several shelters with some friendly monsters, but they always got into trouble and got caught by some hero, luckily you escaped from the social vigilantes because your appearance was still like that of a girl your age, not counting the antennae and pointed ears. For one thing, you learned to hide your antennae, and pointy ears weren't so uncommon in this world.

As for your strange viscosity, it was not a problem unless your body detected danger, if that were to happen ─like now─ your body would react immediately, covering you in that acidic and strangely hard slime when you tried to hit it, as if was a non-Newtonian fluid, you considered yourself a slippery person because of that, you always managed to escape from all the trouble you got into.

"Let's see… bread… bread and… oh! Pockys!"

Your mind completely forgetting the mental list you made once you entered the empty store, having the palate of a child, your mouth watered at the sight of all the junk food you promised you weren't going to eat, but who cares? You already forgot that promise you made with yourself.

You left a couple of hours later, taking the opportunity to eat and rest there, the night was falling when you walked with a bag of groceries, ─completely different from what you were looking for at first─ you swung your feet while humming, singing a random song in your mind until, for the second time that day you bumped into someone, this time you tripped over your feet, falling on your ass to the ground.

"Oh? What are you doing out so late? We agreed that you had a curfew." you puffed out your cheeks, hugging the shopping bag, looking away as if you were angry with the person in front of you, who turned out to be an acquaintance "Mmhh? Have you gone shopping alone? Don't tell me… have you stolen from my savings again?"

"Of course not! I have my own savings, baldy."

A vein bulged on Saitama's forehead, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt as he dragged you down the street like a scolded puppy, though your brow was furrowed by his accusation ─which could have been true another time─ you smiled inwardly.

Wandering around Z city wasn't as bad as you thought, at least not since a couple of months ago you met a man who had a bald spot brighter than your future, you became attached to him from the first day you saw him for several reasons. One, he didn't seem to care about your appearance as a monster, two, he's bald, you didn't need a justification for this reason, it was simply a plus point in your mind, three, they had a place you could stay the night.

Poor Saitama tried to get rid of you in various ways, but you seemed like a leech, clinging to him whenever you could, and deep down in his heart, he felt sorry for a child having to wander the cold streets without something to call 'home' or 'family', even though with each passing day he lost more ability to feel emotions, he was still human, and he thought that maybe some company wouldn't hurt, of course, he was grateful that you were completely independent of him most of it.

"And then I ran into a fucking ugly-as-a-bit monster-"

"Hey, hey! What did I tell you about using that language?!" Saitama choked on his ramen as he listened to you talk about what you had been doing while walking the streets, scolding you one of many times for using those types of expressions or words that someone your age shouldn't be using "Have you been watching that show again? I told you it was for older people."

"No I don't-"

Before you could continue speaking, you burped, making Saitama step back, looking at you with narrowed eyes, you clicked your tongue, pouting because you had been discovered, Saitama discovered that whenever you lie your stomach fills with gas and it usually comes out in the form of belch, there had to be something bad with being a monster.

You got up when you noticed how Saitama was stirring on his futon, looking amused at how he seemed to fight in his dreams, you decided to leave him to go back to sleep but your stomach growled, leaving sleep aside you went to the kitchen, grabbing a stool to reach the drawer where he told you that you could leave your food.

You returned to the living room to find that he had already woken up from his exciting dream, hitting the clock that went flying, shattering against the wall, voices outside the building made Saitama spring into action, jumping off the balcony looking excited as you picked up the remains of the poor watch.

"And there goes the fifth clock of the week… rest in peace."

You mumbled, closing the trash can, making a mental note to get another alarm clock at some point, if you don't forget, returning to see a Saitama completely devastated emotionally by another easily won battle, you patted him on the back to comfort him, he went to do his morning routine while you turned on the TV, hoping to find a good show.

After a while, you saw that Saitama seemed focused on watering the plants on the balcony, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed quite focused on his thoughts, you smiled maliciously, tuning into the program that you were forbidden to watch.

"What sons of bitches…"

"They've killed Kenny!"

You spent a while watching the program, even though you barely understood the jokes, or even the meaning of most of the words, but you were only doing it for educational purposes, knowledge is power and you needed to know more words to have a rigorous vocabulary, so even though you contradictorily only repeated the insults without knowing their true meaning or impact.

"Hey little bug…" you froze feeling the anger emanating from Saitama's body, you slowly turned your head with sweat running down your cheek, used to the man giving you the nickname 'little bug' because of your antennae "pass me the spray of mosquitoes, I don't know where I put it and I'm starting to get angry."

His teeth gnashed as he heard the sound of a mosquito fluttering around the living room. You ran for the spray, sighing in relief that he hadn't noticed the TV show which you quickly switched to the news, the anchor's voice covering the noise Saitama did when trying to kill the mosquito, although he was equally attentive to the television.

"Massive mosquito plague? Yeah of course."

You shrugged, you didn't care about the mosquitoes, after all you could eat them if they were too annoying, of course, unfortunately you partially lost your taste by turning into a monster, which bothered you a little but made it so you could eat any kind of thing, not only because you wouldn't feel the horrible taste, but because your gastric juices could melt anything.

You paid more attention to how there were more and more veins on Saitama's forehead when you saw that he couldn't catch the mosquito, you let out a snort of surprise when you saw how he was unable to kill the mosquito, you rolled your eyes, getting up from the couch.

"Watch and learn!" you patted the space right where that insect was, smiling proudly when you saw that the buzzing stopped, however just a second later your smile was erased "Huh?"

Once again the persistent hum echoed through the silent house, which became a battlefield to try to kill that small animal, you reached the point where you were not able to kill it either, getting on your nerves just like Saitama, so pissed off that you even went running down the street chasing it to kill it, although the only one who ran was Saitama, since you climbed on his shoulders while pointing and shouting at the fleeing mosquito.

However, while he concentrated on continuing to run after the insect, your eyes moved upwards, seeing a large black cloud, you grimaced in disgust as you heard the humming sound emanating from there.

"What is that cloud?"

The bald man stopped as he finally noticed the large black mass in the sky, your attention now directed towards what seemed to be a robot that was already there before, his expression was serious and analytical, he spoke with a bit of concern seeping into his words.

"You! hide somewhere safe, the mosquitoes are being controlled by someone, if she sees you I'm sure she will attack you."

"Oh Really…?"

Saitama sweated at the thought of the swarm, but before neither you nor he could react, the large mass of insects rushed towards the street where you were, however a great flash made you close your eyes, your body was covered in slime, although you slid off the man's shoulders because you had no hair to hold on to, ending up on the ground, admiring the robot's heroic pose, although your attention went elsewhere when you went to check if Saitama was okay, you stifled a laugh at the sight of his buttocks exposed.

"Hey, you saved me, you're great! how did you do that? Your laser is more effective against mosquitoes than the sprays I have."

The cyborg did not have time to say anything when he began to be attacked by the mosquito girl, almost destroying the poor boy until Saitama slapped the woman, killing her instantly, complaining about how the mosquitoes bothered him, leaving speechless to the blonde.

"W-Wait a minute!" you raised an eyebrow while Saitama turned his head to see what was left of the poor boy who continued talking "I'm a cyborg, I've been fighting in the name of justice! They call me Genos! Please tell me your name."

"Huh? I am Saitama why?"

"Let me be your disciple!"

"Ah… ok."

You put on a blank expression when you saw how the bald man left as if nothing had happened, stopping for a moment to see if you would follow him to return home, you sighed, shaking your head at his attitude, you knew that he had not heard anything of the cyborg's words, you already knew how was this going to end.

"Goodbye Genos, see you at home!"

You smiled at the boy, who seemed conflicted at the sight of you, his system detecting you as a monster but arguing with himself over the fact that you looked like someone harmless. He would have to look into it later, after all he wanted to eradicate evil and if you were, you couldn't be an exception.

You hid a smile as you saw how the young adult showed up at the apartment, Saitama in disbelief as he looked through the half-open door.

"Master."

"You really came… um, what's your name?"

"It's Genos, Master Saitama."

"Could you stop calling me master?"

"Teacher!"

"Don't call me that either…"

Saitama looked down at you, looking for silent help, you looked at him with a shrug, making him sigh completely exhausted, he opened the door letting the cyborg in, you smiled at his action, running towards the kitchen to grab three cups of tea, the two boys following you inside, Saitama pouring the tea into the cups while Genos analyzed his surroundings, glancing at you from time to time.

"Go home when you finish your tea, I don't want any disciples."

"Master, what kind of artificial parts do you use?"

"I don't use any."

"Huh? So what's that skin-colored armor on your head?"

You spit out the tea you were drinking, choking on laughter, coughing uncontrollably as Saitama patted your back with a blank stare.

"It's called skin…"

"But that means that you are bald even though you are young."

You spit out the drink again, choking for the second time, receiving more pats on the back a little more aggressively for Saitama's outburst at the mention of his baldness.

"So what if I'm bald?! What's your problem anyway?"

"My problem? Will you listen to me master?"

"Uh, no thanks."

Ignoring the lack of enthusiasm to hear his tortuous past, Genos gave a long sigh, beginning to tell his story, you tried to pay attention but halfway through the story your attention simply went elsewhere, ignoring his words until he was interrupted.

"You talk a lot! Summarize everything you have to say in a short sentence of about ten words maximum, you can't even get a child to pay attention to you."

Saitama pointed at you, completely oblivious to their chatter as you had grabbed some Legos to entertain yourself from Genos' boring story, the cyborg analyzed the situation, taking a few seconds with his eyes closed until he seemed to get the appropriate internal response.

"Master, summarizing this, what I want to say, please teach me how to become as strong as you."

"Genos."

"Yes, sir!"

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, sir."

"You're young… I'm sure you'll surpass me easily."

"Really?"

"I am twenty-five but I started training at twenty-two in the summer three years ago, I have no problem teaching you… but it will be hard, are you ready for this?"

"Yes, sir!"

You blinked in confusion as you saw Genos moving quickly, crouching in the hallway of the small house as he muttered that he detected something approaching at high speed, you thought he was simply having a short circuit or something and continued building your Lego castle, unfortunately a monster shaped of mantis broke the ceiling, causing the pieces of your castle to scatter throughout the room, your antennae came to light due to your anger.

"My name is-"

You smiled as you watched Saitama destroy that monster before it could even introduce itself as some kind of villain.

"Pay my roof!"

"And rebuild my castle!"

You joined the violence by kicking the remains of the mantis corpse, angry at the intrusion that had destroyed your mood, you were prepared to spit acid at whoever had dared to destroy your work of art made of plastic pieces joined together.

"There are more of them outside."

Genos warned, they both left faster than you and when you arrived Saitama had already done all the work, kicking the butt of what seemed to be some frog and slug monsters, you sighed thinking that everything was solved, however something caught Saitama and buried him leaving only his head outside the ground.

"Ma-Master!"

"This feels weird… it's like I'm a plant growing in concrete or something."

You laughed at his comparison, ignoring the worried cyborg you pretended to water the bald man with an imaginary watering can, he smiled vaguely at you, the moment of tranquility was short-lived when a gorilla covered in armor appeared on the scene, without realizing it you were also buried on the ground when you were distracted watching the fight between Genos and the robot gorilla.

"Oh, a kitten."

You muttered carelessly as you saw how another Lion-shaped monster threatened Saitama with ripping his eyes out of their sockets, you also watched as a mole came out of the ground, probably the culprit for both of you being with your body underground. You enjoyed the strange sensation while the other two fought, almost falling asleep because of how comfortable it was, unfortunately Saitama and Genos finished off the enemies too quickly.

"Hey, can you get out of there alone? We are going to resolve some issues with a weird scientist."

"Yes, don't worry, can I go with you?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged, Genos did a quick analysis of your constants and abilities now that he could see your true form and knew that you would have no problem defending yourself, Saitama already knew that you were completely self-sufficient on your own. You took their indifference as an affirmation and covered your body in slime so you could better get out of the place where you were buried so you could go to that scientist's base.

After a brief interrogation of the robot gorilla, a few threats here and there to summarize the backstory of this whole situation, the boys got the exact location of that scientist called Doctor Genus. You climbed onto Genos' shoulders because at least you could hold on to his hair if you fell, it didn't take you long to reach that base of operations in the middle of the forest, although the cyborg destroyed the entire building as soon as he arrived.

"Dude, what are you doing so suddenly?"

"I found this most efficient way to eliminate them in one fell swoop."

"Yeah, well, but at least you could have given them the opportunity to try something…"

You nodded at Saitama's words, also because you felt like kicking someone's ass for destroying your Lego castle. You found a trapdoor in the floor that led to some underground tunnels and you entered without thinking twice. Your antennas began to move restlessly and the lights in the hallway began to go out while heavy, fast footsteps were heard getting closer. When you focused your sight, you saw a large beetle? With a guy in his hand, he was advancing towards you at full speed, although both you and Genos were pushed aside with a big slap.

"How rude, oh is this your right leg or your left?"

You whined even though your slime kept you from getting hurt, you were trying to pull the cyborg out of the wall but you accidentally ripped off his leg by pulling on it, his joints were twisted at painful angles if he were human, you put everything back together in place and you immediately went to the room where Saitama and the beetle were going to fight, but you couldn't care less, you knew what was going to happen so you decided to take a walk around the huge basement.

You didn't find anything really entertaining, at least not something that managed to hold your attention for more than a minute, except for a simple lava lamp that you found in a kind of bedroom, you stopped to look at the different experiments briefly and simply went back and hoping that they had ended the fight once and for all, you were beginning to feel tired and wanted to sleep if possible in a comfortable place.

"What the hell…?"

You muttered with a blank expression as you saw Genos' afro hair and how Saitama was being beaten, although it didn't take long for him to deliver his famous punch and destroy the monster into little pieces, while he screamed in frustration.

"Today is the special discount day!"

Of course, now you understand why the man's frustration, he couldn't miss a day of sales in the supermarkets, you didn't complain about the urgency when you left, leaving the doctor completely emotionally destroyed by the destruction of his most lethal creation, you walked towards Genos jumping with joy at coming home to take a nap, he looked at you in silence, crouching down since he knew you would ask him again if he could carry you on his shoulders. In this little time together he convinced himself that you wouldn't be a threat, despite being a monster, you had no evil in you, at least, not towards innocent people.