#humanized kid mangle

[toki-toro]

Is that the bite of 87

[stevieschrodinger]

Part one

Steve’s alone with fish guy, and it’s the perfect time to make his second attempt. For the first time Steve figures the guy must finally be relaxing, if only a tiny bit. The frozen peas were a massive hit, and maybe that’s helping. Being hungry like that must be really shitty, especially if it’s for a long time, like Steve suspects from the look of fish guy.

Maybe fish guy is starting to realize that this isn’t the labs under Starcourt any more. That Steve and his friends aren’t here to hurt fish guy.

Steve flicks another pea off into the water as he drinks his coffee; fish guy retrieves it in a flash, his eel like black tail easy to spot in the water, quickly coming back for more.

The kids keep calling him a merman - but he doesn't look like any cartoon or kids picture Steve's ever seen. His tail is too flat, for one, definitely more like an eel, plus there's no fins that Steve can see.

Steve offers him a handful of peas, carefully cupping them until fish guy has his hands cupped underneath, ready for them to be tipped in. They don’t touch, and Steve vaguely wonders if the guy will feel cold from the water. The skin of his fingers isn’t pruned like a regular persons would be, which makes sense since he’s a fish guy. Maybe he’ll feel clammy, or rubbery. Or scaly. Steve van very vaguely remember petting a stingray in a low tank at the aquarium once, surrounded by other kids. Might have been a field trip or something, but he can remember how surprised he was by the feeling of the mottled brown skin. Super rough, like sandpaper. Fish guy doesn’t look like he’ll feel like that either, though.

Fish guy eats his handful of peas and then looks back to Steve expectantly; or at least, that’s what he’d call it on a human person. It must be the same sort of thing though, right? The top half, at least, is built the same, right?

Steve’s down to his last handful of frozen peas; he’s already called Robin, she’s going to pick up a bunch of groceries of the green variety on her way over after her shift later. Also a few other bits, like carrots and bell peppers, to see if fish guy will try them.

Steve holds up a single pea between his thumb and pointer finger. Fish guy’s eyes track it from where he floats, a foot away from the ledge. Steve taps his chest, “Steve,” and then he points to fish guy.

Like last night, he comes a little closer, lifting out of the waster a little and then, cautiously points at Steve, he makes a noise that...kind of...sounds like ‘Steve’. His voice is raspy, and the word is kind of mangled, more of a sad ‘Steee,’ but near enough. It looks like he’s really trying, brow furrowed with concentration.

It’s not what Steve wanted, but Steve gives him the pea.

It’s overcast today, same as yesterday, and the day before. Blowy and cold. Steve doesn’t want to stay out here much longer, so he dumps the remaining peas into the water and then gets up and heads inside to wait for Robin.

Steve’s nearly at the door when he hears a splash and then a mournful, “Steeeeeeeeee.” and immediately regrets all of his life choices.

He sighs, and goes back to the pool, “yeah?”

Fish guy tilts his head, frowning, and then lifts his had out of the water, pointer finger and thumb a smidge apart...just like he’s holding an imaginary pea.

Well. Communication is definitely something they will be able to work on then. But Steve flaps the bag, showing the picture of the peas on the front, and the face that it’s very clearly empty, “all gone. Finished,” Steve makes a cutting motion in the air with the side of his hand, to indicate they’re done.

“Inied,” the fish guy manages cautiously.

“Yeah, finished.”

The fish guy watches him for a second, and then dips back down under the water, off too huddle in the bottom corner of the pool.

Steve wonders vaguely if he’s still hungry, but hopefully it won’t be that much longer before Robin gets here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who really, genuinely likes celery.”

“Me neither, it’s like peppery water.”

“With hair in.”

Fish guy though, very clearly, likes the celery. He didn’t quibble over the cucumber either, that disappeared very quickly. He was cautious about the carrots, but with a little encouragement, and a lot of sniffing, he ate the bottom half of one, not seeming to like it so much at the thicker end.

Steve hands him an entire bell pepper, watches as fish guy takes a bite. He seems to like it, but then pulls a face, scraping desperately at the seeds on his tongue and spitting the whole mess out into the water. Steve can’t help laughing. Fish guy looks affronted. The look of genuine distaste and irritation on his face is very human and also hilariously funny.

“Oh Steve, I think you offended him,” Steve wipes the tears away to see that Robin is right, and fish guy has gone to huddle in the far corner of the pool, only his eyes peeking out. That’s got to suck, having no where to go. No where to hide; no privacy at all.

“This has got to suck for him; he’s stuck in an empty box,” Steve tries to imagine living his entire existence in a completely empty room; he can’t, not really.

“Well what can we even do with him? He seems to be freshwater, so the oceans are out. Even if we let him go in a lake, we don’t know what he understands about people, if he got caught…” she trails off. Steve doesn’t need any help imagining what could happen.

“I don’t know but...we need a plan...and he needs something to do.”

“What like, enrichment for his enclosure?”

It’s the first sunny day for a while. Steve had been getting resentful about it but a bit of warm sunshine is starting to make up for it already.

Steve looks uncertainly down at the bucket of dollar store toys he’s paid for. Doesn’t matter that the kids picked them all out, apparently Steve is still the money in this operation.

Plus gas; they had to travel further since the mall is now a fenced off ruin.

All the kids are on their knees at one end of the pool; all of them holding something. There’s a slinky (he can play with it along the edge), a Rubik’s cube (water proof, and we might be able to figure out if he can see color), a bucket, a plastic dog bowl (it’ll float, you can fill it with peas), a rubber duck, and a ball.

Fish guy, on the other hand, had retreated to the furthest corner he could, curled up into a ball, and stayed there.

Steve’s starting to suspect that the noise of the kids constant chatter and bickering is actually a bit too much for fish guy to handle, from the way he either hides or watches them wearily from the other end of the pool. If they move, he moves.

“Maybe if we spread out, then one of use will be close enough because he won’t have anywhere to go-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve tells Dustin, “that’s cruel, if he’s hiding it’s for a reason. Just let the stuff be and he will deal with it when he’s ready.”

He gets a little bit of whining from them, mostly Will and Dustin, if he’s honest, all the other kids seem to be really understanding.

The ball and the bucket they let go to float around in the water, and the kids soon loose interest and head off to cause trouble elsewhere.

Steve desperately wants to dip his feet in the pool, same as he would on any other day, but since there’s someone living in it, it feels kind of rude. Like he’d be knowingly walking mud into someone's house, or something.

Steve kneels at the same end of the pool the kids were at, he doesn’t want to startle fish guy by appearing right above him. If he comes to Steve or not should be his choice, but Steve has two bunches of celery and a dog food bowl filled to the brim with frozen peas, so he thinks his chances are pretty good right now.

He’s right, fish guy does come over, but his whole face is scrunched up and he misses the celery on the first try; it takes Steve an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure it out, even with the guy eating with his eyes pretty much closed.

It’s the first fully sunny day they’ve had, and the guy had been in a shitty artificially lit lab, and before that, presumably the Upside Down for his whole life.

It’s fucking bright out here.

And even as he takes his sunglasses off, Steve has no idea how to communicate this with fish guy.

Steve has the bowl of peas for leverage, but still. He shows them to fish guy, who, squinting, does come closer. And then Steve hands over the glasses. Fish guy, face all scrunched up, tilts his head, looking at them.

Steve takes them back, put them on, takes the off, and offers them again. Ever so carefully and slowly, fish guy takes the glasses. Steve knows fish guy is at least kind of smart; he’s confident he will figure this out. He’s proved correct pretty fast when fish guy holds them up so he can blink up through the lenses.

And then he...very carefully, almost comically carefully, slides them on.

He grins up at Steve, and Steve floats the dog bowl in the water, giving it a nudge.

Fish guy looks delighted.

Part Three

[lenaellsi]

One thing that really gets me about the opening with angel Crowley is that he's not just excited by how beautiful his stars are, or how fun the process of creation is, or how impressed he's made Aziraphale. He’s not in it for the glory or the aesthetics. He’s actually horrified by the idea that the universe will just be "fancy wallpaper" in the future, even though Aziraphale assures him that humans will "marvel" at his creations.

What Crowley loves about his stars is their potential. He is building, essentially, a nursery. Most of the universe's stars, he explains to Aziraphale, will come pre-aged--but his are just starting out! After they're given time to grow, who knows what could happen! Good or bad, black holes or new constellations—there are so many possible futures ahead of them, and Crowley can’t wait to see what happens.

And then Aziraphale tells him that he knows what will happen: those stars will never grow up. They will never shine or burn out or implode or become anything new. They’ll be destroyed before they get the chance.

"You can't kill kids."

“Whose side are you on?” “God’s, of course!” “Same God that wants me to whack the kids?”

"People die." "They do, don't they?"

“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!”

"Don't test them to destruction."

"It's always too late."

"Nothing lasts forever." "No, I don't suppose it does."

This fear has been chasing Crowley since before the beginning. It’s what caused his first doubts, put the first traces of gray in his wings. He’s been raging at the futility of watching beautiful, complex things be damned or destroyed for his entire existence, and that’s why he seems to the audience and to Aziraphale to be a mess of contradictions.

He loves to follow the trends of the times, but he clings to his classic car in an era of planned obsolescence for vehicles. He lives in an ultra-modern flat, but finds his greatest comfort in the unchanging security of aziraphale’s old shop. He hates the idea of killing children, but is willing to see a child die if it preserves the rest of the universe and foils the Great Plan. He “goes too fast,” but his most unique and notable power is that he’s learned to stop time.

Crowley hates predestination. He hates divine intervention and the removal of agency. Crowley, the architect of free will, is constantly torn between his love of change and choice and potential and his terror that everything will be destroyed by an unstoppable, incomprehensible higher power. That’s his driving conflict in the way that Aziraphale’s is learning to find his own path without following Heaven’s rules, and I am fascinated to see how it resolves.

[brucewaynehater101]

Android Tim Drake AU:

Drake Industries announced they had successfully created realistic-looking androids that passed the Turing Test (and harder versions of it). They were planning to release commercial models to the public within twenty years.

To go a step farther, the Drakes wanted to ensure no one was skeptical of the androids' abilities to pass as human. Thus, Janet and Jack Drake had a healthy "human" baby by the name of Timothy Jackson Drake. The only individuals aware of this are Tim, Janet, Jack, and a small handful of engineers bound with a fuck ton of NDAs. They planned to tell the public when Tim was eighteen.

While Janet and Jack Drake are aware of Tim's ability to mimic emotions, they do not believe him to be capable of actually feeling them. This leads to Tim's childhood being lonely and neglectful. He is a robot.

At first, Tim is incapable of consuming human foods or using his touch sense. They fix his touch sense by the time he is four (and thus Dick is his first hug), and the food by the time he is six. He is constantly undergoing repairs to allow him to mimic the growth pattern of a child. It's when he is nine that he finally gets pain sensors to discourage and alert him to damage.

Tim is, for all intents and purposes, legally a human. When Janet dies and Jack gets into a coma, Tim stops receiving "growth spurts." He remains the same size even after Jack wakes up from his coma.

When Tim becomes Robin, he does not disclose his status with Bruce, Dick, or anyone else. Given that his parents treat him like an object, a machine, and incapable of feelings, Tim doesn't want to be subjected to that by his heroes either.

Instead, he gaslights the hell out of the Bats, villains, and other heroes whenever he gets hit.

["Tim! You got flung into a building. You are getting a medical exam."

Tim narrows his eyes as his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Bruce.... what are you talking about?"

"I saw you get thrown into a building. You're not getting out of this."

Tim glances to the side and then back to his mentor. He carefully places a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "B... Maybe we should have Alfred check you over."

Bruce blinks in shock as his brows furrow. "What?"

Tim purses his lips and shakes his head in pity. "It's okay, B. We'll figure it out. Whatever is going on, we'll fix it."

Bruce is so confused and concerned he doesn't ask Tim to get a medical check and agrees to be checked over instead.]

Tim becomes an expert at repairing himself because he can't explain to the engineers (most of who were let go after Janet died) how he got damaged. He spends a lot of nights alone in his room turning off his pain sensors (which isn't an automatic process and is difficult to reach)in order to fix the mangled hand, the gaping gash, the crooked foot, etc.

Kon, and conversely YJ, are the first to find out about his status (darn x-ray vision and super hearing). This encourages Tim to create artificial sounds within himself to fool Superman when they first meet. This also forces Tim to wear a long-sleeved uniform and a hood to hide from x-ray vision.

Tim finds comradery with Red Tornado.

When Jack wakes up from his coma, he originally treats Tim as he did before: an object. Dana, though, changes this. Jack can't explain why he treats his "son" that way and slowly morphs into becoming a good father.

It starts as only occurring when Dana is in the room and ends with a very bitter and antagonistic Jack when she leaves. He is initially disturbed by how much Tim is "faking" emotions, particularly because Tim learned to conceal his emotions from his parents as a coping mechanism (not that Jack knows this).

As they start spending more and more time together, Jack begins accepting the idea that Tim is capable of emotions. He starts caring and loving the kid as his own.

Because of this, Jack becomes fearful for Tim. When he learns that Tim is Robin, he is both jealous of Bruce's relationship with Tim and absolutely terrified for his son (what happens if people find out that Tim is an android? How would they treat him? Tim told Jack the Waynes don't know about his status. What if Tim gets injured too badly during a mission and they find out?)

This is why Jack initially forbids Tim from being Robin. There is way too much at stake for Tim if he continues (even though, theoretically, Tim can't die. Jack can keep saves of Tim and import him into a new body if necessary. They both don't want to do this, however, because Tim's body is his. It would feel weird and wrong to put him in another one).

While Tim is prohibited from being Robin, Jack bankrupts his company in the process of getting Tim rights. He bribes the hell out of judges, law makers, etc. to subtly put I'm rights for androids. He wants Tim to have full access to his inheritance, to freedom, and to everything humans can do. He doesn't want Tim to be without it.

Tim doesn't understand why Drake Industries is going under and is pissed at Jack for preventing him from being Robin. Robin is everything to Tim. It allows him to be treated as human. It connects him to so many people.

It's only afterwards, when Tim is finally allowed to be Robin again (and Jack has ensured he did everything he could for now for Tim's rights), that Tim fully understands how much Jack loves and cares for him.

Then Jack dies.

Tim is able to hide the fact that he's an android up until a Red Helmet asshole breaks into the Tower. While YJ whisk him away before the Bats can find out, Jason knows. Jason found out.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

(Y/n) Grayson, daughter of one of the greatest heroes, learns just how NOT invincible she is. Thrown back in time after her death, she must warn the Guardians of the Globe of the oncoming slaughter while she also battles her own monsters (both figuratively and literally). However, her father and brother begin to gain interest in her strange behavior, something (y/n) could rather do without.

(Y/n) Grayson,  the youngest member of the Grayson family, born to Nolan and Debbie Grayson, with your older brother, Mark, only three years your senior. Life growing up was idyllic in many ways—you had a loving father, mother, and brother who, at least for the first few years of your life, seemed completely normal. But you always knew something was different about your family, especially about your father and brother.

From an early age, you noticed how often your father would leave at odd hours, saying he was "called into work." When Mark turned 10, he and your dad started spending more time together, and they began excluding you from their bonding sessions. You were curious, but it wasn’t until your parents finally sat you down that you learned the truth: your father was Omni-Man, a powerful alien sent to protect Earth, and your brother had just started developing powers like his.

Excited by the revelation, you had a flood of questions—what it felt like to fly, whether you'd get powers, and what space was like. Though your father answered your questions kindly, the growing divide between you and your family was undeniable. Mark, once your geeky, lovable older brother, started to change. By the time you were 12 and he was 15, that change became frightening.

As Mark's powers grew stronger, so did his sense of superiority. He began referring to others as "humans" in a dismissive tone, something that deeply unsettled you. He no longer saw himself as part of the same species, despite being half-human. While he still had moments of warmth and humor with your family, outside of the home, Mark was becoming someone else—cold, calculating, and even cruel.

He rose in popularity at school thanks to his new powers, good looks, and charisma. He became the star athlete, using his power to brutalize opponents on the field, often injuring them far beyond what was acceptable, and then charming others to get out of trouble. One day, he came home covered in blood after beating a kid so badly that the other boy was left mangled and broken. Mark’s behavior was alarming, but what terrified you most was that your father approved of it. Omni-Man encouraged Mark’s aggressive dominance, much to your mother’s distress and your growing fear.

While Mark and your father’s relationship grew stronger, you felt more and more left out. Your own 10th birthday had passed, and your powers had yet to manifest. Nolan began spending less time with you, focusing on Mark's training, leaving you chasing the bond you once had with him. Debbie tried to bridge the gap, but you couldn’t help feeling the loss of both your father’s and brother’s attention.

The real turning point came when you were 12. One day after school, you were hanging out with your friends Hallie, Connor, and Weston in the reclusive meadow near your school. It was a peaceful, secluded spot until you were suddenly attacked by a strange creature—something none of you had ever seen before. It was monstrous, something straight out of the Dungeons & Dragons games you played. You barely managed to kill it, naming it a "Demogorgon" after the game. The four of you hid the body, terrified and confused.

You didn’t know what to tell your parents, but the scratches and bruises covering you were impossible to hide. Your father didn’t have time to deal with what seemed like childish nonsense, and the local law enforcement was baffled by the sudden attacks happening in your area. The creature you killed wasn’t a one-time event; strange attacks began occurring more frequently, leaving the community on edge. Still, your father was too occupied with his work for the government, and Mark was too wrapped up in his own world to help.

As time passed, it became painfully clear that your father was growing distant. You idolized him, but without powers of your own, it seemed like you were losing him. Mark, meanwhile, reveled in his strength, and with your father’s approval, his behavior became more dangerous and reckless. He started using his powers in more violent ways, and the line between heroism and cruelty began to blur for him. You watched your once-loving family dynamic twist into something darker.

Despite this, you chased after them both, desperate to stay close to the people you loved. You begged to join their training sessions, hoping that maybe your powers would eventually show. Yet, with each passing day, you felt the weight of their growing alienation. Mark was becoming someone you barely recognized—a far cry from the nerdy older brother who used to sneak you extra cookies at night and argue about comic book trivia.

Now, you and your friends are facing a looming threat from these mysterious creatures. The attacks are increasing, and no one seems able to stop them—not your father, not Mark, and not the authorities. As the danger mounts, you realize that you and your friends are the only ones who know the truth about the creatures. You’ll have to rely on each other to survive and solve the mystery behind these attacks.

Now at 15, your life had already turned into a living nightmare, but that year? That year, everything truly fell apart. You’d made it to high school, but the past three years had felt like an eternity. Your father was still physically there, but the emotional distance between you two had grown insurmountable. When he did spend time with you, it felt more like an obligation than a genuine connection. You weren’t stupid—you could see it in his eyes. He’d written you off the moment it became clear you didn’t have powers. To him, you were just another weak human, barely worth his time.

Mark wasn’t much better. He oscillated between two extremes: sometimes he was distant, barely acknowledging your existence at home or school. Other times, you’d catch glimpses of your old brother, the one who’d stay up late with you, watching cheesy movies and tucking you in when you fell asleep. Those rare moments of warmth became your lifeline. You clung to them desperately, as if each one could push back the growing darkness in your family.

But then there was the other thing—the real problem. The Demogorgon situation. What had started as a single encounter had become a full-on invasion. No one else seemed capable of dealing with it. Not your dad, not Mark, not the heroes the world adored. So you and your friends had decided to do it yourselves.

At first, it seemed impossible to hide the cuts, bruises, and sprains from fighting the monsters. But with your mom working full time and your father and brother too wrapped up in their own twisted lives to care, no one really noticed. You didn’t blame your mom—she was drowning in her own problems, trying to keep the family together despite everything.

You were fortunate enough to meet Haymitch—a rugged, grizzled man who’d been hunting the creatures for longer than you could imagine. He tried to tell you to back off, to leave it to the adults. But of course, you didn’t listen. You and your friends had been through too much, seen too much. In your stubborn teenage way, you refused to step aside, leaving him no choice but to train you. Over time, he became something of a mentor and a father figure, filling the void that your real father had left behind.

But that year? That year, the world came crashing down.

It started with the Guardians of the Globe. They were the strongest superhero team on the planet, and they were slaughtered—every last one of them. Except for your father. At first, the news rocked the world. Omni-Man was hailed as the tragic survivor, the hero who narrowly escaped death. But you knew better. Something felt wrong about the whole thing. Your gut told you there was more to the story, but you couldn’t imagine the scope of the horror that was to come.

Soon after, the truth emerged.

Your father didn’t come to Earth to protect it—he came to conquer it. And Mark, your once-nerdy, sometimes-kind brother, had fallen right in line with him. Together, they unleashed chaos on the planet. They pillaged cities, tearing through anyone who stood in their way. Mark, now going by the name Invincible, seemed to take after your father in the worst possible ways. The sweet boy who used to protect you from bullies was now a monster, crushing anyone—heroes, civilians, soldiers—who dared oppose him.

The world was plunged into ruin.

You and your friends ran, barely escaping the destruction. You thought maybe your father would have taken you, but no. You weren’t a Viltrumite. You weren’t powerful. You were just… nothing to him. Weak. Disposable. He had already whisked your mom away to a “safe location”—where, you didn’t know—but you were left behind. Haymitch stayed with you, leading your ragtag group as you all tried to survive in a world turned upside down.

You’d never felt so betrayed, so alone.

But even in the wreckage of your life, there was a flicker of hope. You had your friends, and you had Haymitch. And most importantly, you had a burning desire to stop your father and brother. Even if you didn’t have their powers, even if you didn’t have Viltrumite strength, you had something they didn’t—humanity.

And you were going to fight back.

Months passed, and the world’s governments were in tatters. Omni-Man and Invincible’s conquest was nearly complete. Entire cities lay in ruins, and any resistance from the human military or remaining superheroes was swiftly crushed. Yet, even amid the chaos, pockets of resistance formed. Small groups of survivors, including former heroes, started to organize, desperate to reclaim their planet.

You and your friends became part of that underground movement, thanks to Haymitch’s connections. He was no stranger to fighting overwhelming odds, and with his help, you quickly became proficient in guerrilla tactics. You might not have powers, but you had your wits, and you knew how to strike fast and hard, using the terrain and the enemy’s overconfidence against them.

Every day was a struggle, a fight for survival. You missed your mom, wondering if she was safe or if she even knew what was happening. As for your father… well, you weren’t sure what you felt anymore. Love? Hatred? Betrayal? It was all tangled up in a knot too painful to untangle.

And Mark. God, what had happened to him? Was he too far gone, or was there still a part of him that remembered what it meant to be human? The Mark you once knew wouldn’t have done this. But now, the lines were blurred. You didn’t know if he could be saved, or if he was beyond redemption.

The day started out like any other grim scavenging run. You, Hallie, Connor, Weston, and Haymitch had been searching for rations—anything to keep your group alive. The world had become a brutal place, where food and supplies were scarce, and desperation drove people to violence. It was only a matter of time before you crossed paths with another group, and when you did, tension rose immediately.

The air was thick with the potential for bloodshed. Hands hovered near weapons, and the slightest wrong move could trigger a firefight. But as the seconds ticked by, you realized that these weren’t just scavengers—they were survivors, just like you. What’s more, they were part of something bigger. The remnants of humanity’s greatest defenders had gathered in secret, forming a larger resistance led by the surviving heroes who had managed to evade the massacre Omni-Man and Invincible left in their wake.

After a tense exchange, they extended an offer: come with them. They said kids shouldn’t be out here, fighting for their lives like this. It took your group time to weigh the options, but the decision was unanimous—you’d all go. You’d join the resistance and help however you could.

Those weeks spent with the resistance were the best you’d had since the world fell apart. There was food, shelter, and—most importantly—hope. You trained alongside the heroes, working with them to organize missions, raid supply caches, and defend what little remained of civilization. For a while, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance to fight back against the Viltrumite tyrants.

But in the back of your mind, you dreaded the inevitable. Every night, the fear gnawed at you—Omni-Man and Invincible would find this place. They always did. And when they did, there would be no mercy. No escape.

That day came sooner than you expected.

You were talking with another resistance member when the alarms blared. Panic rippled through the compound as the distant sound of gunfire echoed closer and closer. Then, the ground shook beneath your feet as the roof was torn open with monstrous strength. Invincible descended into the fray, a twisted grin plastered on his blood-splattered face. Omni-Man followed, cold and detached as ever, watching the carnage unfold like it was just another day.

The heroes fought valiantly, but one by one, they fell. Invincible tore through them with savage glee, while Omni-Man dealt crushing blows with deadly precision. It was a massacre.

You were frozen in place, too terrified to move, when you heard a booming voice cut through the chaos—your father’s voice. "To the rest of you," he called out over the battle, "you will die today. There’s no point in fighting." His words sent a chill through your bones.

Everything happened so fast. You tried to run, but before you could escape, a powerful hand grabbed the back of your shirt and lifted you effortlessly into the air. The breath was knocked out of your lungs as you were spun around to face the monster holding you.

It was your father. Omni-Man.

Your mind reeled as you looked at his face, stained with blood—an expression of cold indifference as he gazed down at you. You wanted to scream, to beg, to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at the man who once cradled you in his arms, who used to play tea party with you, who had been your hero.

But now? Now, he barely recognized you as his daughter.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was useless. His grip was iron. His gaze pierced through you like you were nothing. Then he spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

"It really is a shame you turned out like this. So weak."

The words hit you harder than any physical blow could. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into his face, searching for any sign of the man you once loved. But there was nothing.

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if considering his next move. Then, his large hand enveloped your head, cradling it—just like he used to when you were little—before he squeezed.

The pain was blinding. It was as if your skull had exploded under the pressure. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. Everything went dark.

You were dead.

Your father killed you.

You didn’t even get to graduate high school. You didn’t get to have your first crush. You were dead.

But then, you started to feel.

You were supposed to be dead. The pain should have been gone. Darkness should have consumed you. But you could feel again.

You violently jerked awake, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst. Your mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. 

You should be dead. Your father crushed your skull.

Your hands frantically touched your face, your head, everything. You were whole. You were alive.

Your heart raced, your breathing ragged as you clutched your chest, desperately trying to calm the frantic beating. You forced yourself to focus, but only one thought kept swirling around in your mind:

‘How the fuck am I still alive?’

Last you remembered, your fathe—Omni-Man—was crushing your skull in, revealing just how much of a useless, weak, waste of Viltrumite DNA he thought you were. Then... nothing.

That’s when you noticed your surroundings.

Wait– this wasn’t the battlefield or a bunker. This was your bedroom. The walls were familiar, decorated with posters of bands you loved when things were still normal. The faded rug beneath your feet had that same worn-out spot where you always paced while talking on the phone with your friends.

But this wasn’t possible. You watched your house get destroyed when Invincible and Omni-Man tore through your neighborhood. You watched it crumble along with everything else. You scrambled to your feet, heart racing again as your mind tried to make sense of it all. That’s when you stopped dead in front of your mirror.

Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale, but something was off. Way off. Your scars. The ones you had earned during your time in the resistance, the ones that covered your face, arms, and body from fighting to survive—they were gone. Not all of them—no, the scars from your battles with the Demogorgons were still there, thin lines across your skin like faint echoes of the hell you’d been through. But the deeper, newer scars from the resistance, from facing Omni-Man and Invincible’s destruction? They were gone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced to make sense of this.

Wait a minute.

Something clicked, a horrifying realization dawning on you. You spun around, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few seconds of tearing through your sheets, you finally found it, buried under your blanket. Hands shaking, you powered it on, staring intently at the screen as the date loaded.

October 13th, 20XX.

Four months before the Guardians of the Globe were slaughtered. Five months before the world would fall to ruin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, the word escaping in a half-choked whisper.

Your bitch ass time traveled.

[bigfatbimbo]

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment. 

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub. 

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you. 

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns. 

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him. 

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened. 

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process. 

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject. 

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments. 

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food. 

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards. 

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt. 

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye farting from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped. 

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head. 

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?” 

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking. 

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more. 

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics. 

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course. 

[kittenshift-17]

Omg I feel like any teen wolf fic (sterek fic) you write would be amazing, on that topic ur an amazing writer and I’m glad that one day I stumbled upon one of your fics. And also speaking of sterek fics (or any teen wolf fic) do u have and recommendations on what to read for that fandom???

Okay, so I took my time with this one because I had read some, but not a lot... but oh boy, did I deep dive into the research to bring you some top tier Sterek Fic Recs.

TOP 20 STEREK RECS

Play It Again by metisket ***I LOVED THIS ONE***

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

Don't Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

so now you've got the best of me (come on and take the rest of me) by mangotangos

"It doesn't matter how hot Derek is, how Stiles barely comes up to his shoulders or how Derek's hands could probably fit really snugly around his waist. None of it matters, because he's basically a glorified babysitter for the foreseeable future and Stiles wants him out. Operation annoy Deputy Derek Hale into leaving begins now."

~or, the one where Stiles' dad hires Deputy Derek to be Stiles' bodyguard, Stiles hates him on principle and then 2 seconds later falls in lust (and love) and tries to seduce him into bed with his sexual prowess.

There Are No Wolves In California by kitsunequeen

Hunter!Stiles accidentally hits a wolf with his car and can't bear to leave him in the road to die. It's not till he gets the wolf home that he sees its eyes glow red... ------- Even everyday roadkill is upsetting, but this thing… Moments ago it was probably a majestic beast, and now it’s a mangled pile of soon-to-be rotting flesh. He presses a shaking hand to the only part of its chest left intact, not even thinking about whether it'll give him rabies or some other awful disease.

He’s about to pull back when something even crazier happens.

He realizes the wolf is breathing.

(not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The sheriff watched him for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open a cabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so it rolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frowned and inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enough to be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be a larger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legs crossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knew someone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and he held up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was, but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said the sheriff, “is my son.”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm for missingsun

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays

Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles.

But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 for xXxClassifiedxXx 

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Sleeping Dogs by starsystems

Let sleeping dogs lie. Prov. Do not instigate trouble.;Leave something alone if it might cause trouble.

Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there.

Because of course it does.

We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) by notthequiettype

Stiles is on his back on hard-packed dirt. He's cold and there are leaves stuck to his neck and there's a four inch gash in his side that he thinks he can feel his ribs through. There's so much blood around him he feels like he's floating on a pond and everything is so much dimmer above him than it was a minute ago, which is saying something because he's in the dark center of the forest in the middle of the night. And the worst of it is that he's alone, totally alone with the smell of his own blood drowning him and the soft side of him run through by a tree.

As his eyes slip shut, the last thing he thinks is, "This is going to kill my dad."

In Case You Didn't Know by Blu_Crowe

Stiles moves into the lofts, and he and Derek start to get closer. Unfortunately Stiles is a moron, and Derek is bad at feelings. They figure it out... Eventually.

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.” 



“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 



Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 



DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

Feral Formalities by Aleandri

"There was silence as no one seemed to breath at the table.

Derek had just gifted Stiles, an unmated Omega, with food.

Right in front of another Alpha.

Who he was on a date with.

To discuss being heat partners...."

*In which, Stiles presents as Omega, and everyone wants a piece of the alpha-baby-making ass!*

for a good time, call... by EvanesDust for kalika_999

Stiles unlocks his phone to send out a quick text asking his father what he wants to eat, even though he’ll get salad regardless, and notices a strange number on his recent call log.

His face scrunches in confusion before realization dawns on him.

Oh shit.

Events from the night before peek through the hazy fog of his mind. Stiles thought, or he was hoping, that the phone call was a dream. But there it is, staring at him in the face—a one minute and 57-second call to an unfamiliar number.

Oh God.

Did he seriously call someone—possibly an alpha werewolf!—for phone sex?

...Or the one where Stiles drunk dials a very grumpy alpha werewolf and propositions him for phone sex. Hilarity, misunderstandings, and feelings ensue.

Golden Boy by trilliath 

Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can't really complain about Peter's 'gifts'. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It's just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.

But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He's spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.

It's enough that Derek hesitates.

[animentality]

not to be a fucking BOOMER or anything, but...

as a writer, whenever i see that kids these days rely entirely on chatgpt bc they don't know how to write anything at all without assistance...

i don't know.

i feel like... you're really cucking yourself.

like you're a human being...with thoughts. and feelings.

why do you not want to organize these?

like generate the things you see. the things you experience. the things you feel.

put them down somewhere, and then organize them from there.

not just because oh you have to for some assignment, but because you understand yourself better when you know what you mean...and what you don't mean.

writing isn't just something you do because you have to, it's something you do because you are a person, and people have the gift of language.

it's one of the most important inventions of the human race...

and writing...editing...re-writing... all that shit is problem solving.

it's not just an exercise in copy and paste.

it's not something you can regurgitate and still benefit from.

i get some of you aren't writers naturally, and it's not something you're necessarily interested in, but...

at a basic level... yes.

you should be able to express yourself in your own words?

you're going to be dead one day, you know. you only have so much time to leave behind evidence that someone as unique as you once existed...

maybe you want to leave something of yourself behind...

or maybe you don't.

because chatgpt is just gonna farm whatever you say and regurgitate it for the next person using chatgpt to use for some bullshit essay anyway, so what does it matter really, if you were the regurgitator or the regurgitated...?

but you know.

whatever, i guess.

who cares

generative ai is pecking at corpses. we are the living dead, and there will be nothing left of us soon.

at least ai will be spitting up the mangled bits and pieces of our bloated rot long after our flesh has become chemical.

[bloodmoonmuses]

stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance. 

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place. 

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it. 

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed. 

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time. 

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for. 

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone. 

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest. 

“So you let her wander.” 

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.  

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?” 

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it. 

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel. 

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.” 

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.” 

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.” 

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.” 

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea. 

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you.  “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.” 

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl. 

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic. 

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

 In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here-  fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza. 

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls. 

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.” 

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch.  You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue. 

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind. 

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….”  He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer. 

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!” 

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.” 

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him. 

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.” 

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.” 

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.” 

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods. 

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.  

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?” 

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

[mobox87]

BIG ANNOUCEMENT

Hello all! It's certainly been a while but I've come with good news!

There have been characters of Affinity that have been sold without others knowing, this has led others to get rather annoyed since they only think one person can buy these characters...

... Well, that ends today!

There are characters of Affinity that I don't have any use for anymore, the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU have no use to me anymore, and I don't want for them to go to waste without a good home for them to have, which is why I've decided to announce that all the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU are now available to be sold to the public!

Though, these designs have had a big impact on me, and I would like to say that I don't wish to sell them for anything less than $30. Please keep that in mind!

Thank you so much for reading, I hope these characters will be able to have good homes!

Please ask, I will make a long list of characters that have been sold to some people, in the meantime you can ask and I will let you know if it has been sold or not

list of SOLD characters (still going to be updated

SOLD!!! SOLD!!!

If some buyers want to put characters they already bought, let me know!

OPTA

Lian

Phantom Scott (FON)

Morbius (FON)

Bonter (FON)

Krungest (FON)

Beltren (FON)

Helltrap (FON)

Klames (FON)

GINNY (FON)

Delmare (FON)

Chica (The Fnaf School design)

Nightmare Springbonnie

Sammy (Old design)

Shadow Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Bonnie (VERY OLD design)

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf School design)

Fnaf 4 children (Chloe, The broen haired with The Plush toy AND little blonde GIRL (NOT Elizabeth) Old design)

Timothy

Son of one of The bullies

william's sister

William (Old design) The one you called Vincent

Steve

Plushtrap (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Freddy (High School design)

Renata's niece

Nightmare Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Old Baby HK design

The girl inside the mangle (VERY old design)

Baby x Funtime Freddy fanchilds

Red bunny (Fnaf World)

Julia

Baby Fanchildren

Iris and rainbear (very old designs)

Kenny and hk mom (OLD design)

Cupcake (OLD design)

Springbonnie's fanchild

Bawn bawn and bonnet little age

Baldi's son (Old design)

Redbear

Puppet Old Child inside

Cajeta

Shelby's ex boyfriend (The one with red hair)

Phone guy (THE VERY OLD DESIGN)

VERY OLD DESIGN OF BRANDY (Black)

Lumy & shade

Bonnet (With vitiligo)

Old Vincent design with black hair

Oliv OLD DESIGN

yenndo (OLD DESIGN)

Female kenny

Thomas

Danny (Sallem and Tiffany's kid)

White Rabbit (Fnaf worldd

Kuromi (Red Rabbit, Fnaf world)

Young Renata

Young Eggs (2016, the one with the red striped shirtt)

Security (Fnaf worldd)

Jeremy (KS)

Jeremy Cyclops (FON)

Mike the knight (FON)

Angelica (a girl with black hair with pigtails and a blue shirtt, from They Shouldn't Know

Girl with Bonnie ears from Nights At Freddy's

Chris the puppet kidd

Dark Toastt

Erick (a character with blue and black hairr)

Frannie (TT)

Jaine (Renata's other neice)

Lydia

A boy with orange hair aand a girl with black hair from the Suicide Didn't Work video

An old Mike design (2014)

Tara (Vincent's sister)

An old Alex designn

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf school designn)

Puppet x Ballora fankids

An old Alfred designn (with a green shirt and a blue hat)

Amatisaa (FON)

Abigail (the soul in Circus Baby in Sassy's Palace)

Stephanie (the soul in Bon Bon in Sassy's Palace)

Penelope (a student in Sassy's Palace)

Valen (a student in Sassy's Palace)

The people shown in the Machigera marketplace in the Beltren comic (everyone except the girl in the middle of the drawing)

The entirety of Ginny's crew that was with her when Beltren was killed (FON)

Ethan (the soul in Funtime Freddy in Sassy's Palace)

Shadow Freddy (old design)

Savy (a yellow rabbit that stood beside Tirsa in one image in FON)

The ruler of Treevelt with purple hair

One of Blurryface's kids (Sassy's Palace)

A humanized plush Foxy

Oliv's mom Old design

Oliv's sister

Yenndo OLD design

And to clarify, these characters will still be in my universe?

YES

But with a more elaborate design and clearly with other names, And some simply with other designs since I only sold ocs that didn't have much appearance And designs that will no longer be used for history Because they were already redesigned

I am unaware of the existence of many characters, if you remember any, you can ask me

[nicksbestie]

Kittens - M. Sturniolo

Summary : One specific person becomes a regular at the animal shelter you work at, always visiting the cats <3

Warnings : mentions of anxiety but nothing graphic!

Word Count : 1614

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader

A/N : i'm a sucker for baby animals and matt <3 maybe there will be a part two for this?

You have always been an animal lover.

You’d grown up in a house full of pets, so really, it was no surprise that you had ended up working in an animal shelter, taking care of all of the pets there until they found a loving home. You worked at a no-kill shelter, and you were grateful for that, because there was no way you could get attached and then have to watch them die simply because nobody had chosen them yet. You worked there because you couldn’t take them all home with you, so you would spend a ton of time with them at the shelter to show them all of the love you wished you could give them forever. You couldn’t lie, sometimes your job broke your heart, for a multitude of reasons. 

Sometimes it was because you got attached to the animals, and then they got adopted. You were of course so happy that they got a loving family, but you did wish that you could be there for them, so it was a bittersweet feeling. Other times, you watched adoption paper after adoption paper fall through, and perfectly loving animals stayed in their kennels or were returned by families who had changed their minds. Even worse was when you saw the strays and abused animals come in, mangled and dirty, sometimes badly injured, and you hated the way they flinched away from you out of fear. You always made sure to show extra love to those ones, to let them know that regardless of what had happened they were in a safe place now, even though it wasn’t a luxurious home. 

You loved getting a chance to turn these animals' lives around, to make them feel better and redirect them to a family or person that would love them for the rest of their life, and you loved how many other people showed up for them as well. There were often people who came in to donate food, toys, leashes, or even just money, knowing that they didn’t want to adopt an animal or didn’t have the capacity to take one in, but still wanted to make a difference, regardless of how small. Every donation was always appreciated so much, and really did go to very helpful results. There were also the groups of friends that came in, the occasional birthday party for some younger kids who love puppies, and those often ended in an adoption or two, which warmed your heart.

And then there were the regulars. The people who couldn’t take any animals home, but loved them too much to not come visit them. The people who were there just as often as the workers were, nearly every day, who formed bonds with the younger and older dogs, and brought the shyer ones out of their shell. You were so grateful for the regulars because they really did help in forming trust between the animals and the humans. It helped with their socialization a great deal, and it had positive effects on the animals. The only thing that occasionally wasn’t great about it was that these animals would get attached to them, and be incredibly sad when they left, or when someone else took them home, but they always ended up okay in the long run. 

The workers also connected with the regulars, and some of them even joined the volunteer group, which was a great help because there was always something to do there. It was nice to have extra pairs of hands every now and then, especially when they were always willing to do something to better the lives of the animals they loved enough to come visit multiple times a week. You knew all of the current regulars by name, but you had noticed one boy who kept coming often enough that it seemed like he was going to become a regular. And you had yet to learn his name. 

He didn’t come every day like most of the regulars did, but he was here a lot. A little too often to just be popping by. He showed up every Wednesday and Friday, normally in the afternoon, and stayed until closing. He spent most of his time with the kittens, and it was heartwarming to see someone bond with all of the new babies. New kittens came into the shelter more often than people thought, as a lot of people abandoned kittens or pregnant cats because they had become too expensive or too much work to take care of. It was just that a lot of the kittens weren’t out to the available adoption areas because they needed medical testing, checkups, vaccines, and a lot of extra care. A lot of immediate human interaction paired with a weak immune system could be a threat to their health.

On the days that there weren’t kittens out, because they did get adopted very quickly, this boy would go see the puppies first. He seemed to be a cat lover, but he also seemed to like the younger animals, like most people. If there weren’t a lot, or they were playing with other people, he would find an older animal, whether that be a cat or dog, and spend the rest of his time with them. One thing you noticed was that it didn’t matter what he was doing with the pet. The pet could be ignoring him, too anxious or shy, (you noticed he always sat with the fearful ones), and he would simply sit with it and wait, offering treats, pets, and if they didn’t want to sit next to him, he would scroll on his phone and let them come to him. He seemed to have a special connection with the vulnerable pets, and you wondered what that said about him.

The biggest thing that you noticed about him was that he never smiled when he was coming in. He would wave, look up, nod, something like that, acknowledge the people at the front desk being there. Sometimes you were the one checking people in, but he never smiled. Not until he was sitting down with an animal in a short vicinity of him, and you noticed that he smiled the biggest when he was sitting on the floor with a pet in his lap. He never smiled when he was walking in, because sometimes you could see him getting out of his car, never as he was checking in, but he did as soon as he was with an animal, and he always left looking a lot lighter than when he came in. He always left the building smiling. 

He had come in for three weeks in a row before you ever said a word to him, and the first thing you said to him was a simple “Welcome back.” He snapped his head up at this, looking confused, as if he hadn’t realized that he had been perceived coming in so often. And maybe by most of the employees, he hadn’t been, but you made it a habit to notice people, even the people who looked like they didn’t want to be noticed. He gave you his usual nod, before moving towards the door to the Cat Cottages. Unfortunately, that day, the kittens had been moved to a different room so that the normal room could be deep cleaned, so you let your coworker cover the front desk and followed him, tapping him on the shoulder just as he reached the door to the cat rooms. He spun around, a seemingly shocked look on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted you to know that the cats have been moved today.”

He looked confused, simply staring at you blankly. 

“Sorry. I was just telling you because you always go to the cats first, so I figured I would save you having to turn around.”

He was still blankly staring at you but this time he spoke.

“You noticed I always go to the cats first.” 

You nodded, listening.

“Yes. I do. You always come here first.” 

“I didn’t think you’d noticed. I mean, I notice you when I come in, but I always assumed that you saw so many people per day that you didn’t have time to notice anyone else.”

You smiled brightly at him, hoping to help him feel more comfortable.

“I always notice our regulars.”

“Do I qualify as a regular?” 

 “You show up on the same two days every week, always in the afternoon, for the past month and a half. I think that falls under regular territory. Now, would you like me to show you where the cats are today?” 

He broke a smile for the first time, the first time you’d ever seen him smile before getting to visit with the cats.

“Yes, please.”

As you walked down the hallway to the holding room that the cats were in today, you learned that the boy’s name was Matt, and he opened up a little bit to you. He told you that he came to visit with the animals because they help a lot with his anxiety.

“They really seem to bond with you. It seems like they really do love you. You have one of those souls.” 

He laughed, sitting down and smiling as a kitten stepped into his lap, pushing its head into his hands.

“You can tell what kind of soul I have?” 

“I don’t need to know you well to know that.”

As you motioned to the animals surrounding you both, you smiled at him, and he smiled right back up.

“Their judgment tells me everything I need to know.”

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[niechys]

Now how does one know if an ask has been eaten? but I guess nevermind? I also did a few revision so I'm posting it here is stead.

So, this is a bit of my spin on @keferon #tf mecha universe. Basically an au of Transformers francise where some of the characters are human who pilot robot but some are still Cybertronian and how they interact.

First Aid is a medic turned pilot who pilot a mech haunted by Vortex.

I think we haven't explore a lot about First Aid being a freak. So Ima take some time to do just that. This should go back to before First Aid got used to connecting to Vortex.

Also an excuse to write some gore. I totally wasn't going for that but I guess I needed it.

Also probaly lots of grammar errors incoming.

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

It was in biology class when he first got to dissect an animal at school. His friends had looked at him weird because he was a little too enthusiastic about it. Most kids were curious alright, but he already knew these stuff. He read in the books and was ecstatic to see the real thing, to cut the real thing apart.

After that He learned to keep it down. To hide the sparkle in his eyes even as he entered medical school. People don't cut things open for fun. Even if he did it for study, he shouldn't be having fun doing it.

---

It started with a soft mumble.

Felix curled into a ball on the pilot seat, knees hugged tight to his chest. Restraint in place but not connected to the neural link, not touching the controls. Watching intently as Vortex sliced through monsters' limbs.

It was one of his early mission as a pilot. Hot Rod was sent out with him. The red mech fighting several hundred meters to his right. The Quintesson had sent monsters with long, jointed legs and tentacle. They looked like someone cross bred a spider crab with an octopus with a hundred arms. Except they are the size of a big building. A bunch of them together look like mountains were moving to meet them.

Vortex's twin blades cut through tentacle, splashing green blood everywhere. Sometimes he wondered if Vortex got his callsign because of this move, twirled the two blades around himself, cutting everything in his path like a tornado.

The blade hit a hard plating on one of the legs. He had to pull back before going for another tentacle instead. Or hacked at the leg until it came off. It wasn't a big trouble for Vortex, but then he heard a small voice from inside his cockpit like a whisper.

"Hit the joint"

"Under there"

"That seam there"

First Aid was still curled up in a little ball on the pilot seat, watching. Something sparkle in those blue eyes behind his visor. Mouth mumbling occasionally, telling body parts or directions.

At first Vortex ignore the words. But when he started looking for the parts First Aid says and hit them, he realized it was more effective. It's like a weak spot had been pointed out.

Amidst the carnages, text appeared on the screen, overlaying the visuals.

[Stop backseating and connect to me]

"Huh..?" Felix asked, looking around as if he could see the ghost talking to him.

[Speaking is slow. Connect to me now or I feed you to big ugly over there]

Not wanting to test Vortex's patient, First Aid reached for the neural link with trembling hands and snap it to the connector on the back of his head.

He felt like he was falling, the next second he was standing outside, face to face with the monster. A threat. A living thing waiting to be diced up. His body made of metal, his sight are not just sight but sensors and infrared and targeting module.

Killed or be kill.

His mother dragging him along as they ran for the shelter.

Scalpel making precision cut on human flesh.

Kill it before it kill you.

His hands deep in someone's torso, Pharma lecturing through the process.

Blade cutting into flesh. His hand gripping the control, forcing it to cut through the bone.

Mangled body of another pilot in the seat he had to pry off.

Tentacle with barbed tip stabbing into the cockpit, into his face.

An alien's organ kept in quarantine.

Onslaught yelling at him.

Blood in his eyes.

Pain flaring through his body

The cockpit shook violently. The monster slammed into him.

'Concentrate'

The impact pulled First Aid back to the present. Vortex's voice echoed in his head. Then he realized he was seeing memories, both his own and Vortex's.

Slowing his breath, he concentrated on the sight before him. The crabtopus monster is still there, tentacle snaking onto his -Vortex's- midsection.

He looked at the tentacle, not where it coiled, but where it came out of the body. His blade stabbed at the base of it, twisted, sliced and the tentacle came free, falling slacked from Vortex.

'You aren't half bad for a medic'

Vortex's voice in his head. He almost panic again before remembering that he was connected to Vortex and not dead. He was still capable of thoughts.

And so First Aid looked on.

The giant monster was before him, preparing to strike again. They didn't just see the enemy. But analyzing it at the same time, even as they dodged the attack and raised blades to cut with renewed surgical precision.

He was seven years old when he cried his eyes out after taking a beetle apart and realized he couldn't put them back together alive. He never wanted anything to be hurt or die.

He just wanted to know how they works. What the inside were like. He wanted to open them up. If he know how they works, surely he would know how to save them, right?

Or know how to kill them better.

The blade penetrated the seams under hard shelled armor, then pried off the shell, revealing tender flesh underneath. The monster screamed, lashing at them with tentacles. They ignored the attack, instead, Vortex stabbed at the flesh repeatedly until the monster went still.

First Aid knowledge informed Vortex's action at the speed of thought. There was no need to think. They combined mind knew how to take this thing apart effectively.

Vortex was bleeding into him. First Aid was lost in a whirlwind of violence. They tore one monster to pieces and move on, hacked the limbs off the other before stabbing it through one of the joint, deep enough that the mech's arm went inside the body and tore out god knows what from the hole.

All the ones in front of them were gone. They turned, there was another monster, half of it on fire, trying to mow down the red mech. They grabbed it, peeled it from Hot Rod's mech and slammed it to the ground. Hot Rod backed away, swaying a little on his feet.

The fire slowly died down leaving a half cooked monster, screeching, writhing fruitlessly while being pinned to the ground with Vortex's blade.

'Where's the heart?'

'I think...here...'

'Haha! look at that, you're right!'

'So that's what it looks like....'

It was still squirming. Vortex step on the head and it cracked open, green liquid splattered out.

Insects are insects. No matter the size.

You can take them apart and never have to feel guilty ever again.

+++++

"---ome in. First Aid come in. This is Hot Rod. Can you hear me?"

'why don't you answer him before I hit that guy too. He's been calling for a while' Vortex speak in his head and he came back to himself.

"oh..."

First Aid took a while to realized Hot Rod was radioing him from his mech. The fire had died down, it seems that the other mech isn't in too bad a condition.

"Hot Rod. This.....This is First Aid. I can hear you"

"How's your condition?"

"I'm...I'm alright. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. You stole my last kill."

"I...um...sorry...."

"Nah. Also, don't forget to put that down before return to base"

First Aid looked down and saw that the monster's heart was still skewered on Vortex's blade.

'Why don't we keep it as trophy'

"Where am I gonna keep it? It's the size of a fridge"

"Pardon?" Hot Rod asked. First Aid was still on the radio.

"Sorry I was talking to my self. I....I will return in a bit. First Aid out'

With the radio off, First Aid leaned back and let out a long breath.

He just realized he was sweating. His hands squeezed the control so hard that they were trembling. When he could let go, his palm sting.

Vortex put the heart down, using the other blade to nudge it off, then cleaved it in half while First Aid watched.

'You like that, hm?'

"I......well....yeah" he was going to deny it. But Vortex probably saw everything already. "I just want to know, okay?"

'Sure, First Aid, sure' He can just hear the grin in Vortex's voice inside his head. He could only shake his head at it.

On the way back, First Aid feel for the link on the back of his neck and disconnect.

[What. Leaving already?]

"...I...just need some time. That whole thing just now was...."

[That whole thing just now was good. We make such a good team]

"How was that good... My head is still spinning. And how would I know you won't melt my brain"

[Your brain is too freaky to melt. I like it a lot.]

"What do you even mean by that"

But First Aid heard a rattling sound echoing from somewhere in the mech like a deep rasping laughter.

He couldn't sleep that night.

------

Once the battlefield has gone quiet, the mechs returned and parameters secured, the science team and rescue squads are dispatched.

They passed the mechs on the way back. Vortex lagging far behind the others, covered in green blood, blades still slicked with what ever was inside the alien guts. Every step shaking the earth beneath.

"Don't you think this is creepy?"

"What?"

"The aliens... they are in pieces.....".

"Well, think on the bright side. Sample extraction is really easy now. They even cut the organs out for us." That would be true. Except for the ones that was turned into mince meat.

"That doesn't make this any less creepy"

"I heard the pilot used to be a medic. Maybe that's why he cut them like this"

"Why did a medic decided to pilot that thing?"

"Beats me. Some people were saying Vortex chose him"

"Poor guy"

--------

Also I want First Aid to interact with other pilots. Hod Rod seems fitting and he hasn't show up a lot so here he is.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me our though. The human GLs finding out that Red Robin is the monarch they're talking about just before the end of the Bruce Quest and they try to convince The Guardians that Tim is far to unstable and needs to be replaced before he blows up everything. This backfires horribly because the Guardians contain at least one brain cell each.

Hal: he's gone mad! He can't be their leader anymore!

Guardian: how so, what happened?

Hal: OK so, some of his loved ones died not to long ago and he started saying that his father was still alive even though we have his dead body and showed the kid his dead body to prove he's dead and the kid freaked out even more and vanished off the face of the earth for a while and is now back saying he has proof his dad is alive but we still have the body. Also three of his close friends died and he tried to clone one of them multiple times to get his friend back.

Guardian, pinching their nose: so you're telling me you showed a grieving child the body of their dead, and likely mangled, parent when the child claimed their parent was still alive and then instead of helping them through the grief of loosing three loved ones and their parent, you called them insane and are trying to destroy their support network?

Hal: w-well- no! That is not the intention we just don't want him hurting people.

Guardian: get out.

Hell yeah. Glad the Guardians at least have one brain cell.

Alternative dialog line:

Hal: That is not the intention we just don't want him hurting people

Guardian: What about him? What about the fact that he's hurting? Who's helping him?

Hal: If he wouldn't disappear on us, we could help him

Guardian: Would you stay put if your entire support network crumbled and everyone called you crazy? Besides, we're more inclined to believe that child than the entire JL. At least he's proven to be highly capable and intelligent.

[pigeonpeach]

Dragon arlecchino but like none of her kids are even close to being dragons which is very confusing for you, the stolen damsel who was told to keep a eye on her young. You expected… you know little dragon babies. But instead there is little lyney and lynette who are cat hybrids (catboy lyney agenda) and freminet who is nervous little like mer-human with no tail but plenty of scales and often found chilling in a little pool for himself.

Arlecchino is in of herself surprising for you the stolen damsel in question as you start to wonder if there’s more to her than you initially thought. You never expected a dragonesss to have motherly/fatherly instincts for other species, maybe she will be a kind captor?

But if you’re really curious about dragon kids then she’d be happy to give you som

Depends on your definition of kind though because when she brings back home food you’re secretly glad you aren’t whatever mangled animal corpse she brought in.

(Also given her special dish it’s probably best you cook it yourself)

(Also is damsel gendered? I always just took it to mean just someone who is captured but the reader here is supposed to be neutral)

[happilychee]

do u write for acno?????

If so, please feed us with acnologia x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻 headcanons, anything ill take it please the people are starved

I haven't considered acno before; he's not really a character I like to explore thaaat much, but I tried lol

these came out pretty angsty bc I really don't think there's a way to survive a relationship with acnologia given how he ends up :(

acnologia x reader headcanons

cw: mentions of child death and injuries; overall angst

♡ probably the only way to have a feasible relationship with acnologia is if you meet him when he's a human. the fiore of 400 years ago is nothing like modern times. it's wild, lush, vibrant, and dangerous. dragons roam freely, not just present but overpowering, and you're a meager human. still, you know you want to help your people in any way you can. you become a healer, and that's how you meet doctor acnologia.

♡ healing is a difficult job, and you spend many sleepless nights in the infirmary with acno mixing potions and balms and salves. you don't miss the way his eyes widen when your fingers brush against his as he hands you the mandrake root. he doesn't miss your tiny smile as his hand ghosts over your lower back when he passes you to weigh ingredients.

♡ it's a quiet relationship that blooms out of solidarity, a shared passion for healing, and dedication. you're both calm people, and despite the daily threat of dragons, you don't think anything could shake your relationship with the logical, ever-rational man working beside you. and yet.

♡ it's a day like any other. except a mother runs in wailing, her child dead in her arms. there's nothing you could have done, not with your healing prowess or with acnologia's medical expertise, because the child was killed by a dragon. you can't stop yourself from cringing at the mangled flesh, the smell of charred skin. acnologia is quiet, and neither of you can say anything to console the woman sobbing on your infirmary floor.

♡ things are different after that. acno doesn't engage you in witty banter or philosophical conversation. he eats less and less. he disappears at night. the work has always been split evenly between the two of you, but now you find yourself measuring ingredients and keeping the books. those were always acno's jobs.

♡ acnologia comes home covered in blood. it's not his. you can tell because it's black. the black blood of a fucking dragon, and suddenly you're dragging him into the back room, tears streaming down your face as you try to get answers from him. his voice is monotone as he confesses. you feel the world spin as the words dragon slayer magic, dragon festival, and dragon king run through your head. still, you patch him up.

♡ the days get longer and the nights shorter. acnologia seems calmer but... more distant. you notice the blood under his fingernails (not his. never his.) and the bags under his eyes, but damn is he good at distracting you. you know you should leave. you know dragon slayer magic is corruptive. you know what acnologia will turn into, but you relish every night that you can hold him close and press kisses to his crown.

♡ you rub salve into the scales that spread across acno's arms and cheeks. he brings you shiny stones and pretty glass. calls them courting gifts. it never fails to make you laugh. you eat more meat for dinner. you don't ask where it's from. you run the front end of the infirmary completely by yourself now, while acno stays in the back and prepares you potions. he doesn’t want to scare the kids that come to see you, and you take it as a sign of his persevering humanity. you start to think that maybe the idyllic life you've built together can go on forever.

♡ all you can think about is how green your village was, before it was consumed by dragon fire. the smoke makes your eyes burn, but you can't move from under the rubble. you can feel the dragon more than see it, its footsteps reverberating in your chest. you shut your eyes, tears streaming down your face, and accept death. but it doesn't come.

♡ your sweet, dear acnologia is unrecognizable. a blur of black and blue that makes the dragon screech in pain. it's quick, it's lethal, and it's terrifying. the dragon is dead, and you're sobbing for all that's changed in the past few years. the way acnologia pulls you out of the rubble isn't human, but it isn't dragon either. he clings to you, caresses your face, his worried words coming out in growls and roars. all you can do is reach up, brush your thumb across his cheek, and smile. it's still him, still your dear acnologia.

♡ you wake up on the outskirts of a town, bandaged roughly. you don't see acnologia for a long, long time after that fateful night. you set up a new infirmary, you treat new patients, you never forget the little boy with a constant sniffle that died in the dragon attack. and you never forget acnologia. in the dead of night, you let yourself imagine him coming home.

♡ it's so similar, you're getting deja vu. the town is burning, and you can barely breathe. you can move this time, though, and you run because you know he's not coming to save you. you make it to the edge of the forest, so close to safety. but a dragon blocks your path. scales dark as night, electric blue markings, and eyes that pierce your very soul.

♡ you fall to your knees and sob. you could never, never run from acnologia, even if it meant the end for you. you only wish that this won't hurt him. you look straight into your beloved's eyes, and you smile. tears streaming down your face, ash covering your cheeks, arms burned and angry red. you've never looked more beautiful. you close your eyes and wait for death. it doesn't come.

[cassyclassyfancy]

I haven't posted for a month lol ๋࣭ ⭑ Yandere! Morax and his love. Summary:Yao-Yao leads about Y/N in a story book and asks her mentor more about the lady, she would be fascinated in so. But Cloud retainer would not tell a tale so disturbing for a kid.

Short. All my post are short

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Warnings Kissing without consent Yandere themes ! I do not condone to this irl ! ๋࣭ ⭑

“You seem to know Y/N alot cloud retainer!”

“You're mistaken child. She, was the closest to Morax one simply mangled in their story.”

“Story?“ The beaming child Yao-Yao chirped, her eyes shining like diamonds.

“Surprising really.”

“Y/N fits every aspect of talent, looks, and personally. That was what made who Rex lapis is today. They often soured the skies, sit by the shores of Yaoguang Shoal or enjoy the sight of Jueyun Karst. She was his pride and joy, One cannot simply think of any possibility on how he will survive without his love.”

He would've let himself eroded. Morax would've set himself on stone and went insane centuries ago. Weren't it for their saviour. No matter how much Cloud retainer covers your markings or sometimes ignoring them completely, The bird does find ways in excusing your marks from the other adeptis, not anymore since you and Morax are already one. She doesn't have to fear that you go insane? Not that you weren't on his care.

Morax gladly agreed to be sealed to a domain, that you also with be. You were already immortal thanks to his 'gift' surely you won't mind spending eternity with the man you love.

(Your perspective)

Loving the gold he frequently gifts you, necklaces, bracelets, matching rings all jewels you could lay your eyes on. It would be at your door next morning.

You remember the gold chains that was in your door step with a letter with his initial in it.

The last morning you will ever see the (Real)sun rise. After being knocked out for God knows how long, you found yourself laying in land filled grass with glaze lilies, the Sun was shining down on you a strange phenomenon which was one in a million day in teyvat. There also laying in the grass was him. With your hands bound together by the same chains he sent. Noticing you awoke, he moved over your side and on top of you, tapping the chains

“Haven't I told you, that one day I would be turning my fantasy to reality? Now we're bound for eternity!” Morax chuckled in a sick and wicked way that you felt a knot building in your lower area.

His rough and gentle hands caught yours greedily bringing it up his cheeks so you could feel how incredibly cold it was. Almost in humane. His other hand scoping a handful or your locks playing with it.

Well, you know now how easily he gets sour when he groped your hands that tangled with his. His face coming closer and whisper in your ear

“Aren't you happy dear? Now that you're mine...” He forcefully grips your cheeks turning them bright red in the process, bringing his lips close to yours before kissing you passionately

Gold rusts anyway.