#hybrid watch

[techdriveplay]

Introducing the Withings ScanWatch Nova Brilliant: A Fusion of Elegance and Medical Precision

Withings, a renowned global leader in connected health technology, has once again raised the bar with the unveiling of its latest innovation—the ScanWatch Nova Brilliant. This hybrid smartwatch masterfully combines timeless design with advanced medical-grade technology, making it the most sophisticated smartwatch in the Withings portfolio. A Statement of Elegance At first glance, the ScanWatch…

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[mysicklove]

sukuna guard dog trope, but he is actually a dog hybrid 💖

[iceman-soup]

amab reader x bot!soap

Though it's technically unspoken, the whole base knows that rottweiler!hybrid!Soap is yours. Sure, he should be Price's - he's the captain, of course. Or even Ghost's; why wouldn't he be, they're so close after all?

But it's you that he follows around all day, at your heels without even being instructed to do so. His tail whacking against your legs as it wags almost constantly, only speeding up when you pet or kiss him every so often.

On breaks, it's always you who he curls up on the sofa next to, head on your thigh as you scratch your fingers through his hair. His eyes either closed in bliss or looking adoringly up at you, ears pricking up whenever you speak.

Sitting with you in your office, whining when you tease him for wanting to crawl up onto your lap as you work. He just won't listen to "you're not a lapdog, honey," and climbs up onto you anyway, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, soft ears ticking your cheek, not moving even when someone comes in to talk to you.

Making sure everyone can hear him yap your name from your room when you're pounding into him, holding his tail out of the way with one hand and the other firmly between his shoulder blades, steadying you as you lean down to mutter praises to him, your pace not slowing even as he whimpers and cums.

Watching as he limps a little the next day, your eye being the one he catches if someone asks him if he's alright. Not being able to hide your smirk when he winces upon sitting down, his tail wagging a little even so when he sees you staring.

[b1mbodoll]

this was a personal attack so in return i will be riding his biceps like a mechanical bull .

[sexiestwerewolf]

they r gaming

[besidethepath]

A little duck puzzle

Mallards are omnipresent in our parks …

… sometimes there are exotic species among them that are difficult to identify at first glance …

… and then turn out to be runner ducks – a domestic duck.

Warty ducks (or Muscovy ducks) are easier to identify – also a domestic duck.

But what about this beautiful duck? Perhaps a hybrid of mallard and muscovy duck? Maybe.

And all on the same pond!

[wulvercazz]

⚠️Always keep your Wolverine on a leash when walking outside⚠️

[chai-berries]

eli’s costume dilemma (much to the amusement of his moms)

you: “so you wanna be spider man? like from the comic books?”

elijah, obviously irritated: “no :( i wanna be a spider who is also human!”

abby, overheard from the kitchen: “hey! we don’t raise our voices at your mama!”

elijah, quieter voice: “sorry mama. i’m just… frustrated”

you raise your brows at his choice of words.

you: “why are you frustrated?”

abby walks in from the kitchen, she wipes her hands on a dish towel then swings the towel over her shoulder

elijah: “everyone thinks i’m going to be spider-man but i wanna be a spider who is also human. it is different.” he pouts.

you open your arms and he climbs up to sit next to you. it’s a perfectly strategic move to hide your smiling face from his sad one.

you, brushing his hair back in a comforting manner: “and what is the difference again?”

elijah: “he was made into a spider but is human. i was born as a spider-human”

abby makes eye contact with you: “what a weirdo” she mouths then turns around to head back into the kitchen to work on dinner again

you hide your smile by kissing elijah’s temple

you, once you tame your laughter: “okay, baby. then a spider-human is what you will be. what do you need help with?”

elijah, thoughtful to your question, though obvious to the irony and absurdity of his costume: “i need to make four more legs appear on my body”

you: “hmm what about paper towel rolls? momma puts them in the recycling bin so I bet some are still there. why don’t you go look?”

elijah, happier than before: “ok! thank you mama!”

elijah detaches from you and sprints to the kitchen

abby, overheard in the kitchen, to elijah who must have ran right to her: “okay my little spider-human, what are we working with here?”

[loxare]

So I was rewatching the hbomb plagiarism video to get some chill morning embroidery time in and I got to the bit about Radclyff Hall and her book, The Well of Loneliness, about lesbian WW1 ambulance drivers, and the video says all of her books were ordered burned, but I was curious and fam. At least one person hid their copy. It's on Project Gutenberg Australia. So if you want to read about lesbian ambulance drivers in the first world war...

[starii-void]

currently thinking about the mortality of the lmk gang

Wukong is immortal, he'll eventually outlive all his friends, again. even if they reincarnate, it won't be the same. the world keeps moving, but he's the one constant. is this what he wanted when he sought out immortality?

Macaque has a long lifespan. he might end up gaining immortality with Wukong too, but that just means he'll outlive the others too. he's died once and is scared of it. but he has to watch his friends fall to it one by one.

MK doesn't know what'll happen to him. is he immortal like the other monkeys? is he more mortal? does he even age? at what rate? does he even want to be immortal?

Pigsy, Sandy and Mei might have a longer lifespan, what with the dragon/monster heritage, but they're still mortal. they still age. Pigsy and Sandy are older than the others. sandy's accepted it. pigsy doesn't want to leave his son behind. mei doesn't want to leave her brother behind.

Tang is fully human. he may have inherited the great monk's powers, but he is still fully human, flesh and bone. he's older than MK and Mei, too. he's the only one that has a confirmed lifespan. they all know it'll happen eventually.

[mythossaga]

Consumed by the feral urge to write chapter after chapter

Doomed with the lack of ability to magically teleport all the words out of my brain and onto the page in a matter of minutes :(

[yeyinde]

floating in donut at the beach while they play jaws the revenge on an old projector and i can't stop thinking about that one scene in Creature from the Black Lagoon where the creature is actively stalking the mc by swimming below her and like. i need that pred/prey energy with Price. being hunted in the water, dragged to his cave. his little human conquest.

[ghoulangerlee]

Aurora who is a water/air ghoulette hybrid, who has the physical qualities of a lion fish (with spines and poisons) who is invasive and that translates to her being an invasive type of ghoul; there's no one else like her because of this, because she's so volatile and will muddle up the somewhat chaotic system of summoned ghouls on the surface.

This in turn makes her very lonely at first. She's summoned many ages ago, left to settle on just the outside of pack; in the pits she had a large pack, going from place to place when there was need for that (as the pack grew bigger).

Now, she's pretty much alone.

And then one day, Copia finds her. She puts on a brave face; her voice a thing of beauty as she sings in the church's choir, haunting and perfect for Satan himself, though she thinks her singing sounds more like a call. A call for pack.

Copia invites her to step in for Sunshine, compliments her voice, offers her solace in his rag tag pack of ghouls that all come from very different parts of the pits. They're not invasive like her, but they accept her much to her own surprise.

Her poison and spines don't scare them like they do others.

Even Copia is enamored by her, not afraid when she's mostly unglamoured in the lake with Rain, hissing softly at the sting of her spines as he reaches out to touch her.

She trills happily, reaches out with a cool touch to soothe the sting and Copia smiles at her.

In her mind, she can feel the pressure of her packs' bonds, nowhere near as large as the pack she had in the pits, but she's happy now.

After years of being lonely, she finally belongs.

[vinylattes]

#i love her necklace

Natasia Demetriou as Nadja of Antipaxos in WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (2019) 5.07 (Hybrid Creatures)