#i don’t even have a name for the robot one yet

[camraz]

may i present some sci fi lesbians

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[kitkatscabinet]

Don't feed him he'll come back

simon riley x neighbour! reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 1.6k

part 2 here

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there. 

The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours. 

Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features. 

A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day. 

You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated. 

It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes. 

He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield. 

You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted. 

Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier. 

Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair. 

“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment. 

Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within. 

His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style. 

Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence. 

“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.” 

The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.” 

No laugh but you blaze ahead. 

“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement. 

“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure. 

“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied. 

“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle. 

“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle. 

“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”

The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it, 

“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange. 

The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain. 

Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you. 

You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.

You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.  

Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.

Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh. 

It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless. 

Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor. 

You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin. 

You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice. 

It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself. 

Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time. 

It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[physalian]

Your colloquialisms are ruining the immersion (or, non-contemporary dialogue)

I am no expert here! Whenever I wrote historical fiction it was anachronistic historical fiction. This advice is from a reader’s perspective and from my experience writing high fantasy.

So what’s the deal with immersive dialogue? I’m going to ignore writing dialects and accents and so-called “old English” with the thee, thy, thou and such. Solely focusing here on the narrative telling me this isn’t set in present times, and yet the dialogue being painfully colloquial like present times.

This is coming from a book I had to read set in HRE times. In it, characters were spouting modern curse words, tacking on verbal tics and crutch words like “or something” and “um” and drawing out words like “daaaamn” and “nooooo”. Rip out the dialogue and toss it in a script with zero context and it would read like two high schoolers from 2009, not two adults from the Holy Roman Empire. Which is a problem, because it completely shattered the immersion. —

1. On so-called “formal writing”

Everybody knows that nixing contractions doesn’t do a damn thing to help your writing look more “formal”, it just looks robotic and stiff, right? We’ve gotten past this as a society? There’s a time and a place for replacing contractions with the full words, but not for every single sentence.

I swear this show keeps creeping into my writing advice but here we go. Transformers Prime. The context for Optimus’ dialogue has a lot to do with his aging voice actor, Peter Cullen, and the perception of the character over the decades from the corny 80s paragon hero everyman type leader to the grizzled and wizened old soul type leader. Optimus isn’t “one of the guys,” he’s old. Very old. He’s the dad of the group (one dad, his grumpy medic is the other dad).

So he gets lines like:

“I fear Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith.”

“But if his return is imminent as I fear, it could be a catastrophic.”

“I bore Skyquake no ill-will.”

He doesn’t curse like the other Autobots. His voice only raises in surprise, horror, or rage. He doesn’t go “um/ah/so/but/eh” and always thinks about what he’s going to say well before he says it. Despite him, Ratchet (the dad medic), and Megatron all being very old, Optimus is the only one who’s “proper” and collected and dignified with his lines. The writers didn’t achieve this simply by omitting contractions, he gets them where necessary and removes them when effective (e.g “We do not.” / “We don’t.”)

2. Thesaurus Rex

Continuing with the Optimus example, no other character in that show would use “zenith” unironically. Or “ill-will”. This doesn’t mean crack open and abuse a thesaurus but there’s a huge divide between:

“Megatron’s gone crazy and he’s going to implode soon” and “Megatron’s ambition is at its zenith”.

I can’ think of a better word to use than dignified, perhaps distinguished to describe his dialogue.

He doesn’t say “what?” when he’s confused, he pauses and says something like “please elaborate”.

This is both word choice and a syntax issue so if you’re struggling to fit a non-contemporary vibe for your work, pay attention to both.

3. When to abstain from cursing

There’s something very special about the dialogue in the Lord of the Rings movies: It’s PG-13 so they can’t curse, but if they had, it would have probably ruined the trilogy. These characters are able to yell in rage and anguish, spit vicious insults at their enemies, and stare down armies that are determined to kill them, all while never breaking the immersion.

Insults like:

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear.”

“Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, you witless worm.”

“Your words are poison.”

And all three were said by or about Grima Wormtongue.

Characters aren’t dumbasses, they’re fools, with the exception of Gollum’s insults toward Sam, the “stupid, fat hobbit”.

Even devoid of name-calling, Denethor absolutely trounces his second son by asking (and I’m paraphrasing) “Is there any man here willing to do his lord’s bidding?” right after Faramir expresses some apprehension about a suicide charge with his remaining soldiers, completely ignoring him and implying that he’s not a real man.

LOTR is full of juicy lines beyond curse words, too. One of my absolute favorites is: “Dark have been my dreams of late” as opposed to “I’ve been having nightmares lately.”

Do you see?? It’s poetry. The motif of Shadow and Darkness as if they’re real, physical things, all the lines of poetry pulled straight from the books like Theoden’s “where is the horse and the rider” monologue just before Helm’s Deep.

It’s dignified.

—

This one was a bit harder to, ironically, put into words without doing a full-blown case study into either franchise’s ability to write dialogue and monologues. I didn’t even talk about Ratchet’s several monologues (one of which was done perfectly in the sound booth on the first take) because Jeffrey Combs has a voice like ambrosia.

TLDR: Immersion goes far beyond your vivid setting descriptors and the clothing or the names and languages. I mostly write fantasy and sci-fi and whenever I read or watch fantasy and sci-fi that isn’t meant to be a world different from our own, or about characters who don’t speak modern English, and they go off with modern slang, syntax, and verbal tics, it just feels sloppy and weak. Pay attention to the following:

Syntax

Modern slang and jargon

Filler words/verbal tics

Curse words/curses

Flat, unmotivated vocab

*All of the quotes were from memory because I watch both of these franchises way too often. So apologies if I got any wrong.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Good things come in small packages

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 2k

A/n: Hey!!! It's finally here! My Mini Han oneshot (posted in a couple of instalments because I get too excited to share). The idea for Mini Han was born through a conversation with my girl @noellllslut (we always have the most unhinged thoughts). Then I wrote a little "imagining" here (which I’ve incorporated into this fic anyway, so you don’t have to read), which then sparked quite a bit curiosity amongst you sweet/filthy readers. Questions came, and I felt compelled to explore more of this theme.

I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's sweet and smutty, and as I kept writing, I fell in love with our dear y/n and Mini Hannie. I want one for myself tbh.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. “I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

To be continued…

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

[lovelywhiteroses]

🐟Pressure🐟

——————————————————————————Sebastian Solace x Reader - Till “death” do us part. ——————————————————————————

✨🌹For those of you who don’t know what Pressure is, it’s a roblox horror game, Sebastian Solace is a character within the game. If you haven’t played it yet, I suggest you do so. It’s quite the horror thrill.🌹✨

——————————————————————————

You were married for four years with your husband Sebastian, though he seemed like the type of man who wouldn’t care for anyone, he ended up married to you. He was loyal, sweet, and always knew the exact things to say to make you blush… you wouldn’t image he would do anything troublesome…..

However… one day he was accused of murdering 9 people. You didn’t believe it was true, you never wanted it to be true! Sebastian even claims it wasn’t true and yet he was locked up till his trial in 2013.

You on the day before his trial, went to go visit him. The guard’s warning you he was dangerous and to stay away from the bars… however you knew he was innocent. When you came upon his cell he immediately got up and held onto the bars, he looked desperate to prove he was innocent as if you didn’t believe him anymore.

“{Name}, please… I never killed those people, you have to believe me. Im sorry that this is happening I never.-”

You didn’t care about the rules at this point and ended up creasing his cheek through the iron bars.

“Sebastian, I never doubted you for one second…”

His hand then held yours, still on his face, it’s been so long since he last felt your gentle hand touch his skin. Little did you both know this would be the last time you two would ever talk or touch. For within his trial, he ended up guilty, he was sentenced to death.

You were heartbroken… you wanted them to reconsider, tried requesting for another trial… but it was too late… you gained the news your dear husband died a “guilty” man… the sorrow, the anger you felt went on for days… you still wore the wedding ring, a reminder of his love for you.

Near the end of 2013 it was declared he was innocent, for the killer was someone else. You were enraged, they practically killed an innocent man. You’re husband! But you weren’t expecting them to pin it on you.

In your trial you were accused of killing people, and pid it on Sebastian, you tried desperately to prove you were innocent…. It never worked… who ever was the murder.. definitely had a twisted way in proving innocent people were guilty… you were sentenced to death. The day of your death, however… you were actually knocked out and brought to a different facility. UrbanShade, you’re death was faked and you were experimented on. You weren’t human anymore… you felt hopeless, even the ring, the reminder of your husband was now broken due to your hands new size. You were devastated, you were locked up like an animal, you were framed for 9 murders you didn’t commit just like Sebastian, and now you’re last memory of him is now gone…

You didn’t speak, you were moving around like a robot, you just did as told, and never caused trouble… you just wanted to sit and wait for your eventual demise…

You lay there in your cell, quiet, unresponsive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Till you heard the alarm go off, you’re cell was open. What’s going on? You see monsters killing people.. so much blood, so much panic. You sat there scared out of you’re mind, you didn’t move, you covers you’re ears as to not hear the screams…

Later, you realize that everything was quiet. You got up, looking around, you’re cell door practically broken from the chaos long ago. You saw blood almost everywhere while looking around the facility. The smell of fresh blood invaded your nose. You wondered around till you saw a monster with a long tail, three arms. You were a bit frightened and tried to back away, however phantom legs got you and you fell back, causing the fello monster to look over at you.

“Ah! Please don’t hurt me! I’m a fellow monster! See! Like you!”

You laughed nervously, as you looked at the Monster with three blue eyes.

The monster dropped what he had in his hands, causing it to scatter. We’re those files? His eyes were wide.

“{Name}…?”

That voice… it sounded familiar, there was no way… he was dead….

“How do you know who I am? Who are you?”

The monster only rushed at you, you were prepared for and attack but… you only felt three arms around you. You were confused, did you feel tears?

“I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to come home to see you again…”

His voice rang familiarly all throughout you’re mind.

“Sebastian…?”

He let go of you and smiled, his eyes practically filled with tears… You ended up with tear filled eyes as well, this was your husband? He wasn’t dead! He was alive and you never knew.

Sebastian looked at you, top to bottom. His expression soon turned from pure happiness to pure hatred…

“They did this to you… THOSE FUCKERS DID THIS TO YOU!”

His light you didn’t notice till now flickers out of anger, he didn’t like the fact UrbanShade also did this to his own wife… you backed away a bit, you never seen such hatred from him before… you went to say something, till he took your hands in his. (Or at least what he could hold.)

“I’m sorry for that… don’t worry, I’ll figure out a way for us to get out of here.”

“How are you going to to do that?”

“You’ll see my dear… I’ll make sure of it.”

After so many years of not seeing him, you and he were reunited, soon the lockdown lasted for months and Sebastian start gathering files. You soon figured out he was going to try and blackmail UrbanShade into letting the two of you go. You weren’t sure it would work, but regardless you gone with it. All you cared about was your husband being alive and um mostly well..

Soon prisoners from UrbanShade started coming by, Sebastian had an idea of selling resources for data, which wasn’t too bad of an idea, when you heard about some sort of crystal the prisoners were after… it got you thinking… what if you two…. Had the crystal….?

——————————————————————————End. ——————————————————————————

✨🌹Hopefully this was to the fandoms liking. This was inspired off of @just-your-everyday-goth The story suggestion I couldn’t help but write! ^^✨ however, weather they like it or not is up to them. I hope you did like this scenario.. and have a great Day, Afternoon, or Night… see you in the next scenario.🌹✨

[webslingingslasher]

what if peter calls her annoying for doing soemthing so she geniunely stops

peter remembers the conversation vividly.

'do you mind if i play a game?'

'no.'

'are you sure? cause if you wanna do something now's the time to say it.'

'no, you can play.'

you told him he could play, and you didn't even sound the slightest upset. he must've read that wrong, because while he's trying to focus on killing and not dying, you're chatting up a storm.

peter figured after the third barely there half acknowledgement you'd figure it out, but no. not even when he cut you off to shout something to a teammate. it was the third missed shot and he just really wanted you to stop talking.

it's nonstop and about nothing important. shit about people he doesn't know, or people he has a faint recolection from. his team was about to pull through, but you had to call his name to make sure he was listening to some bullshit about whoever and whatever and he fucking died.

'jesus fucking ch- what?! you do this every fucking time, i asked if i could play, you said yes. i asked if you minded, you said no. yet, every time you sit here and try to have a fucking conversation with me.'

as if he didn't dig in far enough:

'you're fucking annoying.'

ouch. ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i'm sorry.'

ouch, 'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

a heavy sigh, peter rubs his eyebrow. 'yeah, i'm sure you are.' you want to shink into nothing, he made you feel so small in three words.

'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i am.' it's timid, peter sighs again, this time at himself. 'i know you are. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you. i was doing good and got distracted, i'm sorry and it's just a game.'

peter was sorry he yelled, not sorry he called you fucking annoying. no, that part he meant. it was obvious. 'it's okay.' you feel robotic, but it was your fault he lost his game. you're the one that told him he could play.

peter looks at you, his face scrunched. 'it's okay? i raised my voice at you and it's okay?' you nod, 'yeah. i distracted you.'

sure, that's what he said, but it's not what he meant. 'hey, don't sweat it. if i was a better player that wouldn't have happened, if anything you might just make me better by talking my ear off.'

'you're fucking annoying.' it still stings. you plaster on a smile, it's missing from your eyes. 'yeah, maybe.' peter winks, he bought it. or he just doesn't want to deal with it, you're fucking annoying anyways.

'you can play another round, i won't bother you this time. i promise.' and you don’t. not a single word, you just endlessly scroll on your phone and let peter celebrate his team win.

a cluster of kisses. ‘i had total focus and i set a new record. be proud of me, please.’ you smile, it hurts to know that your silence made him win. that’s how fucking annoying you are.

‘super proud, handsome. feel free to keep playing.’

it doesn’t feel right to peter, normally you’d be begging for attention or coercing him into cuddles. instead, you’re shrugging him off.

‘are you-‘

‘yes. i’m sure.’ twitter and instagram are boring. but you don’t want to be fucking annoying.

peter gives another kiss. ‘you’re the best, trouble. don’t forget it.’

you’re the best… and you’re fucking annoying.

you won’t be anymore.

———

peter’s won every single match this week and it stopped feeling good. and as he’s aimlessly wondering, half hoping to be killed, he realizes he hasn’t heard you in a little bit.

‘hey, trouble. what’s up? talk to me.’ he misses the soft chatters and gentle pokes when he loses focus on you. he misses you bidding for his attention.

‘nothing.’ you glance up to the screen, ‘don’t get yourself killed.’ peter shrugs, he doesn’t care how this match ends. instead, he moves from his chair to the bed with you.

‘c’mon, talk to me. tell me about your day or um, what’s that girl? the one with choppy highlights?’ you flip a page in your book, ‘harmony.’

‘yeah, her. what’s new with harmony?’ he moves into your touch, you slowly nudge away. ‘nothing.’ a multitude of things, actually. harmony is someone who has the life only a writer could make up.

‘i find that hard to believe, you’re always talking about her.’

you’re bitter with your words, but how dare he make it seem like he cares. ‘i did, but not anymore since im fucking annoying.’

peter looks at you, you’re choosing to avoid eye contact even if he knows you’re re-reading the same paragraph over and over. ‘you’re not annoying. who told you that?’

oh, you stare at him. you burn the glare of a thousand suns into his eyes, a moment of rage when you picture his head exploding.

‘you did.’

peter throws his controller down, he’s shot instantly. there’s not even a peek at the screen. ‘i did?’ his mind is counting back, when and the most important, why would he say that?

‘you said and i quote, ‘you’re fucking annoying.’ so don’t sit here and pretend you want to hear my stories or whatever. you’re a fucking liar and you think i’m annoying.’

in the time it takes to blink, peter’s grabbing your book away and forcing you to look at him. ‘i didn’t mean it. you’re not annoying, not now, not ever.’

you push his hands away. ‘you do. you apologized for yelling at me but not for calling me annoying. you said it and you meant it.’

‘i’m a sore loser with a big mouth. i don’t think you’re annoying, i’ve never thought you were annoying, and i never will think you’re annoying.’

you don’t buy it. he sure seemed to enjoy your silence for the past week and you tell him that. ‘no i didn’t. you think because i don’t say something, i don’t know it’s happening. i knew you were more quiet and less touchy, but i figured you were really into your new book- not that i hurt your feelings.’

it’s nice to know your efforts weren’t for nothing, but you still feel a sting in your heart. ‘you said i always bother you, and that i do that every time you play.’

peter shakes his head, he’s doing everything in his power to make you toss this idea you think he has about you. ‘i worded it wrong, that’s on me.’

‘what i meant-‘ peter tugs on your knee, you can’t escape his eyes if you tried. ‘what i meant was that it feels like you want my attention most when i’m in the zone and super concentrated. i love that you want to talk to me or sit with me, i just want to win a game too, that’s all.’

you sniff, a threat of a cry if he tries something like this again. ‘so, you don’t hate me or find me fucking annoying?’ peter frowns, he hates that he caused a mental breakdown of sorts behind the scenes over something he didn’t even realize he said.

‘never ever. you’re my girl, trouble. i’m an idiot who doesn’t deserve your passive aggressiveness. next time i act like that, feel free to throw the controller at my head.’

it comes way too quick, you’ve been waiting for this. ‘deal.’

[ravcnism]

HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

[sanzaibian]

“Sir, here are the Beatty files.” The young woman told me, handing a USB key.

I have heard a lot about these files. They were intercepted in the town after which they’re named by the secret services a while ago, but were encrypted in such a puzzling way that only now can we view them. And of course, I am the first one to be able to review its content.

I know a lot of things, as it is my job to be informed of anything and everything happening around the world. I know the plans of China over Taiwan, the successor to the Ayatollah, the contents of the talks between Putin and Kim Jong-un, and all the current US military strategy. In my line of work, everything can happen, yet at no single point could I make sense of the Beatty files. Nor could anyone else for that matter.

I excused the young woman, bidding to her my thanks for the deciphering team, and went to the unused laptop I had prepared. When it comes to matters of national security, I cannot afford to be careless, and let anyone unlicensed to get access to this. So brand new laptop, created by us, which has never been opened, to open these files.

And so I fiddled with the parameters a bit, entering the secret code, and inserted the USB key to view its contents. Inside were a few files, all of which videos. Their names were not informative, since I know for a fact that their original names were not recovered, so I just opened the first file in the list.

The video opened looking down in a white cubic room, meaning it was very likely a security camera recording. In addition, there was the time indicated on the bottom right, yet something felt weird about how it was displayed… 15:58… 15:59… 15:60 ???... 16:01, etc. Why is it not counting time correctly ? Nobody indicates time like this ! It’s wrong, it’s incorrect ! I just opened it and there’s already something I cannot in any way explain !

Taking a deep breath, I look at the center of the screen, in which I have a good view of a man sat in a chair. He has tanned skin, black hair and black stubble, and a very developed musculature. He looks to be a very attractive middle-eastern man, although I cannot say which ethnicity he precisely has.

The chair he’s sitting on is quite massive, and he looks almost as if he is… restrained in it ? Yes, there seems to be little handcuffs tethering him to the armchairs. But most striking are the numerous tubes going out from his arms, legs, torso and even head, linked to some types of medical appliances I cannot recognize, as well as to a sort of glass tank.

Suddenly, I notice the deep voice of a man. I up the volume, and hear… a language I cannot understand.

“Tzai en 19/03, 2:17, en tzoujkbruoi odogattzion program en Scipio Labratory. Ny hse Hk. Adtem, tzai widt nyn hskadiais, Sjd. Fingtrosy ÿ Sd. Vagohs, ÿ naum wom fill no tzoujketvÿsn ekspÿrians widt no #1073 bymarjen.”

At first I get some German vibes from it, but then it seems to be Polish, and then French… Whatever that language might be, it is not one I have ever heard. The man in the chair looks around, seemingly half-dazed, as if he was drugged. I don’t know what will happen to him, yet I get the feeling that it won’t be a desirable fate.

Suddenly, another voice, that of a woman by the looks of things, speaking in that same strange language.

“Hsüzmalhsÿv drël en im.”

Then a buzzer sound. There seems to be some white substance flowing inside the man’s body, through the tubes from the medical appliances. As it flows, I can see his eyes starting to become more droopy, before fluttering, and then closing. At the same time, his body starts floundering in the restraints, as if he was keeping himself from falling asleep. But as time went on and the white liquid ran dry, all of his muscles were relaxing and his stance become limp, like that of a dysfunctional robot. However, looking at his accelerating breathing rhythm, it seems to my trained eye that he is not actually asleep. It’s only his body refusing to function correctly.

“Drël ingkatzt. Etvÿsn harjimÿll.” Says another voice, deeper than the last one, but not as deep as the first one.

I don’t really know what’s happening. If the counter on the bottom-right of the screen wasn’t ticking up, I would have thought that the image was frozen. But then, suddenly, I can hear a low sound in the recording. And that sounds starts creeping higher and higher, as if something was charging up… Yeah, definitively charging up, since I almost saw some lightning sparks going off from the chair…

I don’t know what’s happening, but it seems to be malfunctioning. The sparks make themselves more and more intense, and it almost seems as if the machine is ready to explode...

Just as I say that, the first deep voice makes itself heard once again, but this time more in a frustrated or worried tone than an official one.

“Sel heont havy… Go huop sel hstill pÿrdont...”

But suddenly, the sparks stop, and while the sound doesn’t stop, beige liquid start flowing into the pipes… from the man to the tank ? What is that thing ? I don’t understand ! However, I can hear cries of rejoice in the audience, with all three voices I’ve heard since then saying incomprehensible stuff that I wouldn’t even be able to transcribe. I guess they also didn’t think… whatever this is would work ?

I take a drink from my water bottle as I keep an eye on the video. However, since I need to reach my bag, I cannot actively monitor it. Besides, according to what I hear, nothing of note seems to be happening... But when I have put down the bottle, I stop the video. I rub my eyes, but even then, I still see it.

The man seems smaller.

Somehow.

I go back in the video to the time where the man with the deepest voice sounded worried and… Yeah, looking like that, it’s even more apparent. The man has been losing mass. And the tanks have been filled by this beige skin-color liquid… Heh, if I didn’t know I was in reality, I would have said that this is muscle-juice, but this is ridiculous…

Especially since the body mass hasn’t been the only thing to change.

As I play back the video and continue through the long haul of high-pitch noise and not much else, I notice that the man’s stubble seems to be disappearing… and his head hair growing as well, somehow ? It almost seems as if he’s becoming less masculine by the second, if it even makes any sense, even though nothing about this video actually makesanysense. If I didn’t know who supplied it to me, I would have said this was a fake…

As his pecs were shrinking, his arms were thinning, his waist narrowing and his legs slimming, his stance almost seemed to be relaxing further – if it’s even possible. I mean, I don’t know ! It’s just the impression that I’m getting ! As the last of his stubble vanishes, at least according to what I can see through the pixels, he almost seems to be getting cuter ? Whence more relaxed ? Fuck, this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever…

Oh. I know why I get this impression. It’s not anymore weird or nonsensical, but at least in this context it seems to make sense… I think he also is losing height. Yes, actually. Height. It’s almost as if someone took the textbook definition of a “twink” and decided to impart its characteristic on this poor fellow – don’t ask me why I know what it is.

As I continue watching in horror, the woman’s voice says, gleefully :

“Entzony as hen !”

How can they sound so… happy ? Happy to torture a man like this ? To, quite visibly, drain his muscles into those tanks that look more and more full ? It just goes beyond me ! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen my fair share of horrible and unethical treatments, and a ton of unethical human experiments. But this by far takes the cake of the most disturbing thing I have ever seen ! They’re taking away what he is, his identity ! Him ! That’s the most cruel violation of human rights I have ever seen ! To gleefully disfigure someone like that…

The tanks have finished filling up, and the sound starts lowering in intensity. The man left looks only like a shadow of who he was. He still looks like himself, except devoid of any… meat, may I say ? When the machine was well and truly turned off, the deep voice rejoiced, seemingly announcing the success of that terrible plot.

“Fÿstyfuroll ! Oll fod havy kotzvong !”

Funnily enough, the first word made me think of “feast for all”, which just feels wrong given the context. On that, they all seem to have left the premises, as a nurse came in and untethered the poor man from all the equipment, and taking with her the tanks filled of muscle juice.

I continued watching, hoping that I would get to see the young man wake up.

And wake up he did, looking around, before standing up… and immediately falling. Presumably due to him not expecting to be this skinny. He then looked at himself, and had an utterly horrified look in his eyes, as if he was processing the fact that he was irremediably different.

He crawled towards the wall, and using that, he climbed back to standing, managing to take a position so that he could be looking at the camera.

And on that, the video suddenly stopped, leaving me on this freeze frame :

I absolutely don’t know what to do with that. Now I not only understand, but also feel how confused the secret services were by intercepting this message. It just seems wrong in so many ways, so much that… it might not even have occurred on Earth for all I know ! The language is unknown, but familiar. The way to count time is disturbing, but otherwise identical to ours. The events depicted are of typical mad experimentation, but in a manner that is unthinkable in my knowledge of the world.

I don’t have the strength to view any of the other videos, since they’re likely all the same amount of disturbing. So I close the laptop, and already starts asking myself the question I need to give an answer for my superiors :

Just what the hell are the Beatty files ?!

[woso-soso]

You're Going To Do Great

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie gets put to the ultimate test, taking care of the team baby.

Word Count: 1,407

You cover your mouth, doing your best to muffle the giggle bubbling inside of you at the look on Jessie’s face. You stand behind the camera as you watch the robotic baby doll get tossed onto the table landing right in front of Jessie. You had been doing media for the Portland Thorns for the last four years, having been lucky to land an entry level position after graduating from UCLA. Which is where you had met Jessie, the two of you having been together now for eight years, married for three of them. 

“What is going on?” She asks cautiously.

“One of the team predictions this year was that there would be another team baby,” you say off camera. “So far we haven’t had one so the team voted to do this, and you were selected to be the honorary mom.” You can see Jessie's nerves clear as day. It was a challenge to even get her to agree to do a video. There was no way you were going to tell her this was the plan. 

“So what am I supposed to do with it?” Jessie asks, picking the doll up slowly. Turning it over towards the camera, the little Portland thorns onesie on full display. 

“Well,” you start “IT’S name is Rose, and she will be spending the day with you.” You toss a ring of cards towards Jessie hoping and praying that her somewhat fast reflexes actually kick in for once. With a small sigh of relief you watch her catch them easily, well somewhat easily, the robot baby narrowly escapes being dropped on the ground. 

“All day?” Jessie’s eyes go wide as she stares past the camera into your eyes.

“All day,” you confirm. “But you’ll have this to aid you,” you toss yet another item at Jessie, the bright blue baby sling landing in front of her in a heap. “And those cards will be your life line, each one represents something different, feeding, changing, burping etcetera. There is also a panic card but trust me you don’t want to use it.” 

“How am I supposed to train with it?” Jessie asks as she fiddles with the baby sling. 

“You’ll figure it out Jessie, by the end of the day you're going to love ROSE.” You emphasize as the freckled woman glares at you. 

“Fine,” she grumbles, “Come help me with this,” she says as the camera is shut off, the baby sling hanging limply in her hand. With a soft smile on your face you go over to help her clip the robotic baby in. “Maybe this will be good practice,” Jessie whispers her hand resting gently on your slightly swollen abdomen. You were only four months along and no one on the team was aware of the impending arrival of baby Fleming, but you were ok with that. The two of you holding your notoriously very private status like a badge of honor. 

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing, just like with everything else,” You affirm as you brush her hair aside to clip the top of the sling. 

The camera crew follows Jessie around for the rest of the day, capturing every moment they can. You personally watch from your office window that faces down onto the training pitch. You laugh to yourself as you watch her attempt to leave the baby on the side lines, but the robotic screaming starts almost instantly. Jessie rushes to try and stop the crying, tapping every card on the ring multiple times until you see her visibly relax. Her teammates chirping at her as she heads back on to the pitch. 

You know for a fact that she has set off the panic card multiple times, the app connected to your phone alarming multiple times as she franctiled tried to get the screaming to stop. You watch as practice comes to a pause. Pushing away from your desk you slowly make your way down to the pitch. 

“Y/N,” shouts Olivia, the young girl attaching herself to your hip the second you're in sight. The much younger girl having become like a younger sister over the years as you took on a caregiver role while on the road. 

“Shhhhhh,” Jessie hisses at her “It just got quiet lets please not set it… “a loud screech echoes across the stadium. “Off.” Jessie sighs heavily as she digs out the cards again, starting the process of tapping every card not even taking a second to look at which was which. 

“Jessie, shouldn’t you be looking at the cards.” Olivia quips. “I don’t know if they didn’t have these in Canada but the more you hit it with the wrong card the worse your score is.” 

“IT'S SCORED?” Jessie asks panicked, turning towards you like you’ve betrayed her. 

“I told you to not hit it willy-nilly with the cards didn’t I,” Your eyebrow raised in question. 

“But you didn’t say I would be scored,” she exclaims. 

“Well,” you start, eyeing the cameras around you, “you might want to start making up for it, you might be able to redeem yourself before the end of day.” 

“Come on Jessie I raised you to be better to kids then that,” Sincy says patting the younger woman on the back as they head in for lunch. 

“If you think you’d be so good at it you take the baby then,” Jessie grunts in frustration as she shoves the plastic baby into the older womens arms. “I just need a minute away from the screaming.” Before Sincy can object Jessie is darting off into the cafeteria. 

By the end of the afternoon your phone has gone off another five times, the notifications popping up indicating that Jessie has yet again messed up and used the panic card. You take your time making your way to the locker room, meeting up with the camera crew along the way. You knock before entering the locker room, the screaming robot baby being all you can hear as people start to pack up for the night. Jessie having shoved the baby under a pile of pennies to try and muffle some of the screams.

“I don’t think that suffocating the baby bodes well for your score,” Your voice causes Jessie to jump suddenly as she whirls around to look at you. Her hand shooting into the pile of pennies to retrieve the robot.  

“I….” Jessie stammers. 

“It’s okay, give me the doll.” Your hand stretched out to take the screaming doll from her. Quickly flipping it over and turning it off. 

“She could have just turned it off all day?” Sophia shouts from across the locker room. 

“She could have,” you start with a smirk “but it wouldn’t have ended well for her if she had.” Jessies normally red cheeks flush even brighter. “Now, who here wants to know what Jessie scored on caring for our lovely Rose here?” 

“ME!” Exclaims a good portion of the crowd gathered in the room, the cameras panning across the grinning faces before settling on a flustered Jessie. 

“Mrs Fleming here has scored an impressive,” you pause for a moment to raise the intensity “57 percent, not too good there Mrs Fleming, looks like you might have some learning to still do.” You can make out a few digs and laughs in the locker room, most of them poking fun at Jessie for being as smart as she is. You hear quite a few questioning if that's the lowest grade she's ever gotten. 

You check behind you to be sure the cameras are off before making your way over to the shorter brunette, her cheeks bright red and eyes turned downward. She doesn’t necessarily look upset, more so uncomfortable with all the attention on her. 

“Am I really going to be that bad?” She questions quietly, her eyes moving to meet yours. “Am I going to break our baby,” her voice even quieter than before, wanting to maintain this secret from everyone for as long as possible. 

“Jessie Alexandra Fleming you are going to do great, amazing even. Trust me, I wouldn’t have a baby with anyone but you.” Your hand takes hers, your thumb gently running across the back of her hand. 

“Really?” She asked.

“Really,” you say gently, leaning down to place a soft kiss to her lips, her cheeks instantly flaming even more brightly at the very very rare show of affection in public.

[marwhoa]

request: hi hil! I read your work and it was amazing! I was hoping you would write the rise boys with a vigilante s/o? (Gn) but the boys don't know that yet and one day s/o is fighting the foot or someone, you decide, then their turtle bf shows up and helps them. S/o forgot they were in costume for a minute before running to their turtle in shining shell and kissing them, so it turns into a whole thing and s/o unmasks themself, how do the boys react??

🝮 “ violet virus ”

rise!donnie x vigilante!g/n

author’s note: eeee !! Gosh I’ve been meaning to post for months, but multiple x readers always stump me. I like making each a completely different story, and sometimes that ends up with me writing waaaay too much. So! I separated this one into a solo. Raph Mikey and Leo will be their own post since I imagine they’ll be much shorter… unless I’m a little freak again and write too much 😭😭. Sheldon’s speech will be the same color as Donnie’s but in italics :))

word count: 4.5k

“ I don’t understand why you won’t disclose this information, Shelldon. ”

Grumbles the turtle clad in purple as he sits on the floor of his lab. Tools are strewn around within reaching distance, framing him, Shelldon, and the computer plugged into the robot boy. The screen displayed a long history of access points to Shelldon’s database—none of which Donnie had the clearance for.

Odd.

A little sigh plays from the little bot’s speakers as his digital eyes shift elsewhere.

“ The information you seek is, like, confidential, dude! ”

“ Whuh—not only are you keeping secrets from your father, but you would even ‘dude’ your own father?! Poppycock! ”

Frustrated, Donnie throws his hands in the air, eyes fixated on the display screen. Error sounds growled through the computer’s speakers each time his program attempted to break through its encryption.

Just who could write an encryption code that could thwart even Donnie?

“ It just makes no sense. As not only your father but also creator, I should have complete access to any and all of your databases. Is this a rebellious development, update 1.2?! ”

Shelldon rolls over, groaning out in annoyance. He couldn’t just flat-out tell him, “ oh papà! you mustn’t worry, i am only hiding the identity of a certain vigilante you’ve yet to encounter! “, no, no, that would be absurd.

That would be a betrayal to you, Donnie’s kindhearted significant other who just couldn’t stand for the Purple Dragons’ treatment towards your dearest darling dear. I mean, what partner would stand on the sidelines as a measly cheerleader in the face of someone daring to disrespect YOUR boyfriend? Quite literally the smartest man alive (probably)?

It didn’t help your case that you were pretty powerless, aside from some scrounged-up determination, a pinch of courage, and a heavy dosage of computer expertise. Nothing up to par with Donnie, but it was remarkable by human’s standards. Combine that with the help of a sentient robot named Shelldon, and you were a force to stand on equal footing with that malicious group of super-nerd-punks.

Watching Donnie writhe with frustration, Shelldon can’t help but hope his walls were stronger than his father’s.

“ Maybe it’s nothing to worry about, bro, let’s just—“

“ Nothing to worry about—/nothing to worry about/— oh, it’s nothing to worry about, he says! “

A ding resonating from Shelldon draws Donnie’s attention for a second. His frustration churns, flashing into curiosity. It seems as though some sort of distress message has came through, but with a chime unlike what he’s programmed. Donnie drops his head with a laughter akin to a parent reaching their breaking point.

“ Oh-ho-ho, dear son of mine, ”

Mouth open, ready to retort with a snarky tone, Donnie raises his head up but holds his tongue at the sight.

An uncharacteristic silence blankets the robot-boy. Shelldon’s eyes begin to flicker until they beam with deep, velvety-purple hue.

Donnie flinches, shielding his eyes from the bright LEDs as he pointed and snapped his fingers.

“ AH-HAH! See, I knew it. This IS a problem! ”

Shelldon rises to his feet and turns robotically before then breaking into a brisk sprint. The cord plugged into him snatches the laptop a few feet before it ultimately yanks from Shelldon’s socket. Before Donnie could call him to return, his son shifts to quite literally propelling himself out of the lair from the rocket launchers in his feet.

Coughing and waving away the residual smoke, Donnie squints at Shelldon’s rapidly disappearing silhouette. He groans exasperatedly as his hands pull at nonexistent hair.

“ Damn it, I knew he wasn’t old enough to have those installed, Shelldon!! ”

Grabbing his tech-bo, Donnie wasted no time in following right after him.

——-

While your poor partner-in-crime found himself under his father’s interrogation, you are none-the-wiser as your fingers skirt across a keyboard. Your purple gloves whir quietly as they accelerate the computer’s performance—the faster you get out, the better. The display’s light shone on your outfit, one befitting a vigilante’s need for secrecy. Your hair was held back by a bandana while your face was obscured by a half-mask from the bridge of your nose to your jaw. A pair of glasses rested upon it with a little purple ‘ D ‘ logo in the corner.

A long sleeve turtle neck covered your arms and torso with angular purple lines following the underside of your arms and down your sides, tucked into a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. The pants tucked into a sturdy pair of boots, all matching with black and purple. If the light caught you in the right way though, then the faintest detail of smaller purple embellishment akin to the lines running along a modem board would shimmer.

That was a detail you were most proud of, albeit purely cosmetic.

But never mind that, you manage to squirrel your way into a hub room of sorts with large metal cabinets filled to the brim with wirings, likely powering the entire lair. The floor occasionally lit up with the rush of purple LED lights pulsing through thin indents on the floor. You didn’t know what information they carried or to where, but that was not your current concern.

“ Alright, Dragons, what are you looking for with the OKE YX23 system’s blueprints… ”

You whisper to yourself. As streams of data rapidly scroll across the screens, you soak it all up through a pair of modified glasses. They accelerate your comprehension and store databases chock full of what you saw in seconds. It was a neat gadget born of your own genius, albeit with just a bit of help from your beloved Donnie.

“ Supersuits? Why super… ”

Squinting, you slow your feverish typing pace and pinch your fingers on the projected hologram to zoom in and section off a few documents. Blueprints upon blueprints flood your senses, designs for all types of suits, each fully equipped for specific situations calling for varying levels of strength, agility, dexterity, and more. A few documents even detail their uses, discussing ideal fantasies of potential war use.

“ No… No way! This is.. I have to send all this data over to Shelldon. ”

Removing your glasses, you tap the shell icon at the top corner of the left lens to send it all to your partner in crime, Shelldon. As a low chime resonates from the glasses, confirming a successful message delivered, you stare at the purple D logo. Your thumb strokes it fondly as you purse your lips in contemplation.

“ Once I’m done with these dragons, maybe… Maybe it’s time to tell him who I am.. ”

You idle for a moment, your free hand balling in and out of a fist beside you. Wracking your head for answers, your thumb began to stroke the pad of your folded index finger as a sort of grounding measure.

“ … For now, I’ll put a pin in that, I need to figure out how to get out of here. ”

As you shift away from the computer to head out, a loud clanging of the door being forced shut in front of you was enough to set off alarms in your head. Paling, you click your boot’s heel against the cold metal floor a few times. There, you had planted one of your small gadgets to allow quick and easy hacking. It was an attempt to connect and override the system to get the door open, but as you’re met with nothing save for the soft thuds of your foot, a heavy pressure weighs on your chest.

They must have found you out. How long have they known you were here?

Goosebumps scurry along your arm as you look over your shoulder for the compressed hiss of doors mechanically sliding open. Previously hidden doors pulled apart to reveal a hidden hallway and a bot stepping through, its digital gaze settled on you while its heavy footfalls shook the room.

“ Ohhhh noooo… ”

Dragging out the syllables, the blueprints you just saw on the screen were currently whirring to life before you. At the sound of a grating, familiar cackle playing through the contraption’s speakers, your blood chills.

Not good.

“ Looks like a rat slipped through the cracks. ”

You could recognize her voice anywhere. What’s your escape route now? Have they closed all of them off? God, you did not prepare for a fight today—that was NOT on the itinerary!

“ Perfect opportunity to see what these puppies can do though. ”

Fully facing the super-suit occupied by Kendra, you take a hesitant step back as your eyes scan the room. They land on a rather ordinary looking door on your far left, equidistant to you both. The chance to get some distance is all too tempting.

Unfortunately, just as your foot raises to break into a bolt, an “ ah, ah, ah~ ” taunts through the mech’s speaker as it sends a projectile whisking past you with a high pitched pachoo! The object sparks against the wall it strikes and ignites instantly. You can’t help the spike in fear shooting through you internally as the blast destroys part of the room and sends debris flying.

With barely a chance to gather your bearings, your gaze raises helplessly as the bulky suit Kendra was operating closed the gap between you both and slammed a heavy fist towards you. It strikes the ground with a heavy THUMP, leaving a dent that was barely off enough to feel comfortable. You raise your hand to the purple logo on your glasses that sends an S.O.S. distress call to your man-in-the-chair, Shelldon.

Scrambling to get away, you lunge towards one of the wire-filled cabinets palms-first in an attempt to hack and utilize some to your advantage. Before your program fully engaged, you’re yanked away full-force and sent skidding across the floor. In your peripheral you notice two more of these suits enter the room. This is hardly the time to get distracted, you scold yourself, glancing back to Kendra in a nick of time.

“ Shit, shit, shit, shit!! ”

You scream, narrowly dodging a shrapnel of metal whisking past your ducked head and embedding itself into the opposite wall.

“ ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ”

Through a dramatic display of physical prowess, you screech and lunge every which way to avoid each zipping attack the bot sends towards you. To make matters worse, two more robotic suits emerge from behind the first.

“ That could’ve killed me, you runts! ”

Glaring, you turn your gaze to the maniacally laughing trio of super-nerds, donning what appeared to be the exact same super suits in the documents, all said to be powered by an all-too-powerful AI-chip. The suits’ reflexes are swift n’clean, ran by a superior digital brain that seems to be predicting all your movements even before you know them. In any other circumstances, you would have marveled in their presence.

However, right now it serves as too-great of a foe for you alone. In a pathetic display to keep up, you try to stand your ground against the super suits in a recipe of chaos that ends with you cornered and exhausted.

“ Now, now, Violet Virus,”

The leader, Kendra, steps towards you in a suit designed for strength. It’s bulky, intimidating, and an overall pain. You almost wonder if sheer artillery built into that suit was enough to single-handedly replace an entire army.

Behind her stood Jeremy in a suit built for speed—it’s racing LEDs left you dizzy if you stared too long and was designed to reach speeds fast enough that the residual shock alone might be enough to give your eardrums a hell of a jolt. Its fit was slim and sharp, fitting for the purpose.

Last is Jason, who..

Well..

He didn’t have some flashy suit for some reason.

Honestly, it seems more like just a prop suit. You didn’t even know if it did anything—to be frank, it kind of looked like they picked it up at Spirit Halloween.

“ You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. ”

Kendra’s suit thuds towards you, crouching in front of you. Her robotic hand reaches out to grip your chin between the thumb and index.

“ But that’s all I’ll give you. “

You’re starting to get antsy, mentally begging Shelldon to hurry up in helping you out of this ordeal. In the mean time, you muster the meanest glare, peering through the visual retinas of the machine. The speaker picks up her low scoff.

“ Well, maybe I should reward our little idiot for that signal to our friend,Othello von Ryan. ”

The boys behind her share a laugh in response.

“ … Who? ”

Confused, you yank from her grip, teeth bared in disgust. As powerless as you are to super-suits, an idiot was no where near appropriate to describe you. In fact, to say you were a vigilante with nothing but your boyfriend’s robot under your belt was a lie.

See, your outfit was littered with all types of covert gadgets. This included a pair of gloves and boots to match with dull, illuminated swirls under the pads of your fingers and heels of your feet. Within those swirling pools of light happened to be lie dozens of little terminals awaiting for your command to reshape and hack into any dormant or idle appliances and tech within range.

Pinned to the ground in a sitting position, your hands laid palms down on either side of your body and feet flat to carry out the rest of this operation. So long as they keep their focus on you, they will be completely blind-sided by your retaliation. Inaudible over the commotion, a low groan of circuitry in the walls bowed as your programs seep into their systems.

“ I don’t know who that is, but you’re crazy if you think this battle is in any of your favors! ”

You growled out as the ceilings cave from serpentine cables raining sparks haphazardly. Your program had sent a sort of “ suicidal-sentience ” command through nearby wires that influenced them to rip apart and focus an assault on the super-suits.

Kendra growls in annoyance as metal panels from above knock her to the ground. The limbs of her robotic suit are then coiled up by the snake-like wires. She turns to see a similar fate befalling Jason.

But not Jeremy.

“ Oh, but it is in my favor. ”

Kendra cocked her head in Jeremy’s direction, grinning with an energy that sent shivers down your spine. His suit was equipped with speeds your program couldn’t fathom keeping up with, and as his suit whipped to your side before you could try to run, you were struck and pinned flat against the floor.

“ That was a clever yet feeble attempt. See, we know all about your assets. ”

Kendra recovers quick as she moves her suit to rip the cables off her.

“ … What assets!?”

You kick your legs, trying to get free. Just how much do they know? What do they know? What or which assets could they mean? You hold your tongue in fear of spilling information to potential bluff.

Amidst your confusion, Kendra doesn’t seem too impressed. She might have burst a fuse if not for Jeremy clearing his throat and intervening.

“ What she means, Violet Virus, is we intercepted your help signal. ”

The hair on the back of your neck rose up.

That explains the lack of indication from Shelldon that he received your signal. Your expression sours with worry. What use did they have with him? And wait, Othello von Ryan—

“ You didn’t honestly think you could serve any sort of threat to us, right? Had you even considered that we—practical GENIUSES of the modern technological age—may not have planned to stop at these suits? ”

—Wasn’t that one of Donnie’s aliases?

Kendra roughly shoves Jeremy aside as she crouches back down to eye-level with you. In this moment, you begin to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe—

“ Your naïveté is sickeningly cute, Vivi, this wasn’t our goal. ”

—you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Panic was washing over you.

With ice coursing through your veins, you thought about calling Donnie. Maybe if you confess everything about being Violet Virus, he’ll come help?

Or, would he be mad that you kept such a secret and did something so reckless by yourself? A heat wells up in your chest, igniting a fight with the chills. Flashes of hot and cold ran over you as the pieces fell into place.

How long have they known you were working with Shelldon?

Did they let you sneak in this far?

Were you just a stepping stone to get Shelldon?

…

Do they know your identity?

Your mouth dries at that notion. You need to hurry and turn these tides, but before you could put any plan forth, the wall beside you crumbles as a familiar short stature burst through.

The little robot gave heavy thuds as his feet rose and fell against the floor without any personality.

How did everything go so wrong?

“ Shelldon? “

Tone low, hardly loud enough to even be a whisper, you stared wide-eyed at a robot without a twinge of the boy you knew.

“ Shelldon’s not his name anymore, Violet Virus. ”

Kendra’s suit rises above you then moves to tower beside Shelldon. She raises her mechanical hand and rests it firmly on his shoulder.

“ This is Pulverizer now! ”

A series of “ no’s ” fall from your lips as you scramble to your feet and close the gap between you and Shelldon. Your hands tremble around him, unsure where to rest while Kendra breaks down in laughter beside you both.

You could see the computing of some program flickering behind Shelldon’s eyes, indicated some software actively downloading. He remained unfazed by your presence.

“ Shelldon, no, no, no, what are they doing to you?! I have to get you out of here, I’m so—“

“ Pulverizer, engage combat program ZG.09X, ”

Kendra interjects, barking some sort of command. You glance to her then back to Shelldon, baffled as he seems to respond only to that and not any of your efforts. Your eyes widen as his arm begins reeling back.

“ What did they do to y—“

A quick thwack interrupts you as Shelldon socks you across the jaw with a force so heavy it sends you to the floor a few feet. The hit cracked and crumbled part of your mask as bits of it sprinkle the path from Shelldon to where you’d landed. Your glasses had been slightly bent from your head knocking against the floor. The pain throbs through your skull, ebbing from the cheek your hand rose to caress in disbelief.

“ D-Donnie.. ”

As you stared at Shelldon thunking towards you, you couldn’t help but tremble and wish you weren’t alone. This was too much for you, and you found yourself imagining what it would have been like if you had teamed up with Donnie in the beginning instead of being a solo-hero.

Shelldon reels his arm back again, and you raise yours in a feeble attempt to shield yourself.

Shutting your eyes tight, you brace for the impact.

“ SHELLDON, PROTOCOL BOGEY-DOWN 61E9 ACTIVATE! ”

“ What—!? ”

Kendra whips her head around towards the same entrance Shelldon initially created.

You stare wide eyed as your boyfriend bursts in and shouts a command to Shelldon. His dramatic entrance is punctuated by him riding his tech-bo like a hoverboard.

Donnie jumps off, landing straight into Kendra’s mech with enough force to topple it over. He casts a glance in your direction, squints with suspicion, but then turns back to Kendra.

“ I knew it—SEE, I knew it! ”

The purple-banded turtle paces in front of the dazed Kendra, throwing his hands up in frustration. He stops to point back and forth between Shelldon and the rest of the Purple Dragons.

“ Who else could be meddling with MY son’s database but this group of wannabes! “

“ W-Wannabes? Othello von Ryan, this is whe.. damn.. ”

Winded, Kendra takes a pause to catch her breath. Jason tries to come and help her up but gets swatted away immediately. Angrily, she huffs and operates the suit to shove itself back onto its feet.

“ Get AWAY from me, Jase, UGH! Othello Von Ryan, prepare to be defeated by our revenge! Pulverizer, engage combat program ZG.734! ”

She cackles maniacally, jabbing a finger in Donnie’s direction. When Shelldon doesn’t move, the speaker goes quiet for a few beats.

Then, it starts playing a bunch of loud clanks, likely from Kendra frustratedly hitting things inside the suit.

Donnie, however, glances at Shelldon then back at Kendra and stomps his foot. He points an accusatory finger in her direction.

“ Oh by Galileo, if you lot did anything nefarious to Shelldon’s programming, so help me! ”

Sheldon’s fist wavers a few inches from you as different lines of code scroll past his eyes, registering the command Donnie called out. After hearing Kendra’s command, the lines of code began rapidly switching direction until a click resounds. He blinks a few times then looks down at you.

“ No! Damn it, what happened!? ”

Kendra pummels the ground enough times to leave a hefty dent.

Donnie scoffs at her, crouching to stare into the visual receptors of the mech-suit.

“ I see you did not consider I may have created an anti-dragons program with the idea that you would want to control my tech again, did you? ”

As Shelldon came back to his senses, he glanced every which way in confusion. One second he was being interrogated, the next..

“ Your distress signal! Y/—I mean, Violet Virus, bro, what’s the haps? How’d I get here? Ohh, Donnie’s gonna be so pissed at me, dude, he almost found out ab—“

You gawk at Shelldon’s loud voice, shushing him loudly. Whispering, you quickly scold him.

“ Shelldon! We can discuss it later, but right now we need to get out of h—“

As you gesture to leave, you are instead met with Donnie being sent flying straight into you. Your foreheads collide as you’re sent back against the ground with him dazed over you.

“ Technologically advanced mecha suits is an upgrade from our last encounter, I’ll give you that! ”

One of Donnie’s hands rests beside your head while the other holds his forehead, rubbing where you both collided. He groans in pain.

Similarly, you hold both hands against your forehead and writhe dramatically beneath Donnie at the pain echoing from not just your lower jaw where Shelldon struck you, but your forehead too now.

“ Ow, ow, oww! Donnie, that… that.. hurt.. ”

Your voice peters off as you look up at him. The fear was already beginning to melt away as your eyes scan across his face. He had such an uncanny habit of coming when you called, and this situation was no different. As relief washes over you, you forget yourself for a second and reach to give him a kiss. You’re just so lucky to have someone so dependable as him, even in situations where he didn’t mean it. You vow to tell him everything after this.

As your hands cup the sides of his face, Donnie opens his eyes to see you leaning in.

“ Whoa—HEY? ”

Mechanical limbs splay out of his shell and quickly put distance between you and him, stirring a squeak of surprise from you as he stares at you bewildered.

“ I don’t know you! This is a complete violation of personal space and my individual rights! ”

He shouts in disbelief, covering himself like a woman caught naked.

… Oh..

Oh yeah.

Your face flushes with embarrassment instantly. Right now you aren’t Donnie’s girlfriend, but rather Violet Virus. You stand up, ready to explain yourself, only to be immediately knocked back down to your knees as an explosion from another one of Kendra’s projectiles goes off behind you. Donnie’s attention shifts from you to the Purple Dragons.

“ What sort of looney tries to kiss stranger during combat, he exclaims in disbelief! ”

Donnie vents aloud as he twirls his tech-bo around his body. Generating enough speed from the action, he then lunges towards Kendra. Right before he strikes, his index taps a button on the shaft of the swirling bo. Its speed increases as the tip shifts into a hammer-like shape and propels like a rocket to clock Kendra’s super-suit mech across the face. The strike is heavy enough that the robot’s head twists and twists the wrong direction until it pops clean off.

“ No, it’s not like that—and don’t call me a looney! Just, you know me! ”

“ No I don’t! The nerve of some people. I feel the need to add I am a happily taken man! “

You stumble over your words as you try to explain yourself. Slamming your palms against the floor, you inject another offensive virus into the room’s system as your glasses accelerate your visual capacities to keep up with Jeremy’s suit. Just as the program goes into effect, you’re pulled back as Jason’s arm catches your neck in his elbow.

He pulls you back, choking you as the program sets loose through the wires held in the cabinet. The cables surge out and land upon Jeremy’s suit, connecting to ports and lighting it up with enough power to overload and shut down the entire contraption. He gets lit up like a Christmas tree for a second before the suit slams into the ground non-responsive.

You hear a low ‘ damn it! ‘ from inside his suit.

Kicking your feet to try and be free from Jason’s grip, you’re let go only after Shelldon lands one of his heavy, rocket-powered punches to send the boy across the room. Even though he’s an enemy, you wince sympathetically at how much that must’ve hurt.

“ Thanks Shelldon.. ”

You murmur, rubbing your neck. Shelldon beams with pride towards you until Donnie steps between you both. His mechanical spider limbs shooting out once more to make some distance between you two.

" I’d appreciate you not fraternizing with the enemy, Shelldon. ”

He steps away from you and closer to Shelldon.

“ But Donnie, Violet Virus isn’t the enemy! ”

“ Yeah, I’m not an enemy, Donnie, just listen to me for a second! ”

“ Firstly, Shelldon, you’re on a friendly name basis with this fiend?! And secondly, Violet Virus, how do you know who I am? Does my reputation exceed me, I wonder? ”

He pauses for a moment to think to himself, likely basking in the idea of his popularity reaching farther, then shakes away the thought. Donnie takes a few steps closer to you with an intimidating air.

“ This is no good, no, no. Violet Virus, might it have been you who— Hold on. ”

As his gaze fixates on your glasses, you sharply suck in a breath by accident. Coughing, everything you wanted to say caught up too quick for even a single word to slip out. You needed to tell him! What will he think, that you’re a thief?

“ Wait—“

“ How do you have that, that’s.. Wait. ”

He crosses his arms, tapping his index against his bicep as he circles around you. Donnie stops in front of you, hums something mid-thought, then cracks a smile.

“ Ah, I get it now. How clever you are, my dear. ”

“ What? ”

You hesitate as he closes the gap between you both. His face softens as his hands make quick work of sliding your broken mask off. Without needing to explain a word, it seems he made quick work of who you were.

“ So this is what you’ve been up to.. Why? ”

His hand caresses your cheek.

“ I… Wanted to get back at the Purple Dragons—for you.. ”

Donnie cracks a bigger grin and chuckles, leaning a bit to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

“ We can discuss this when we get home, then. ”

[eneablack]

i shifted again help- two times in three days after robotic affirming for one week.

i affirmed that i accidentally shift every night to random realities and also my drs, like constant shifts every day, and it’s starting to happen as i’ve clearly noticed.

this time was a minishift for some minutes to a random fame dr but it was cool anyway :) and i did it via lucid dreaming.

in the dream I was lowkey desperate to shift because of some issues going on in my cr, so I looked up to the moon and prayed her to allow me to do it (so i was of course talking directly to my subconscious), and suddenly this guy appears and takes me far away on his motorcycle and I find myself in a supermarket with my dad, we were going towards the exit but my steps stopped and I couldn’t walk any further, so I said "please let me move" thinking that if I had walked beyond the exit I would have shifted, then after crying people around took my hands and helped me walk out and I tried so hard and I finally succeed and went out with the help of those kind individuals, and I find myself in a parking lot with two women and I was still sick because I thought I was still dreaming so I cried, then the two asked me what's wrong so I explain it to them and they tell me "no you're not dreaming, you've shifted".

(this is gonna be in present tense because i wrote it in the notes app after coming back).

then i shifted, and everything suddenly becomes clear and detailed, I feel the wind on my face and the cold and rough texture of the floor under my hands, the locks of hair on my cheeks and the tears on my face that are drying with the wind, so I cry even more and I'm like this shocked that I don't have memories yet, then they call me “Nicole?” (so apparently I was a woman) and I see that the people around me are looking at me strangely so I try to recover but it seems impossible because I have made it, and at that moment my phone rings, I don’t recognise the name so my hypothetical two friends tell me to hurry up “come on answer it's him!” so I pick up and I see this asian guy on a video call who calls me a nickname (that i won’t share cause it’s personal and cringe but it’s okay cause it was in an ironic way) then I panic thinking that at this point it was my boyfriend so I decline the call then someone else calls me and I hear the voice of a woman who I understand is my manager but I don't get anything at that moment and I still don't have the memories and at some point the woman on the phone asks me annoyed "what's wrong with you?" then I suddenly say that my boyfriend asked me to marry him and at the same time my two friends also say the same thing, so it was a memory of mine that was resurfacing and actually I had to get married for real and he was a famous guy and I was too. and then I came back probably because I was too agitated.

[rieamena]

I wonder at what point in the "reboot saga" would the other cunning hares step in and help Billy? Like, on one hand you have a convenient way to stop Billy from whatever he is doing, and watching how Y/N is trying to confess without crashing him must be entertaining. On the other after crash 65 it must get worrying :/

finally!—

the first few crashes had been amusing, a source of lighthearted teasing among the group. you’d attempt to confess, and billy, ever the charismatic and responsive robot, would suddenly freeze, eyes flickering as his system struggled to process the influx of data. the scene would end with him rebooting, and the cycle would start anew. after the first couple of crashes, the laughter faded into concern

“i don’t get it,” you muttered, sprawled out on the couch in the cunning hares' common room. “why does he keep crashing? it’s just a confession.”

“he’s not built to handle that kind of emotional intensity,” nicole explained, fiddling with the handles on his jacket, metal body limp after yet another of your failed confessions. “his programming is complex, but at the core, it’s still a machine trying to process human emotions.”

“and you’re very special to him,” anby added, smiling gently. “that makes it even harder for his system to cope.”

the three of you brainstormed solutions, testing different approaches and environmental controls. they installed cooling systems, tweaked his software, and even practiced mock confessions. yet, each time you poured your heart out to billy, his system would crash and reboot, leaving you both in a loop of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings

one night, after crash number seventy two—a number that was only devised due to your intricate logs of attempted confessions in your mini journal—the serious gravity of the situation hit everyone. billy’s constant reboots were taking a toll on his system, and the risk of permanent damage was becoming too great to ignore

“this has to stop,” nicole declared, her voice heavy with determination. “we need to find a way to get through to him without causing another crash.”

after much debate, the team devised a new strategy. it wasn’t just about cooling fans and air conditioners; it was about creating a space where billy could process his emotions without the threat of overload. they set up a room specifically for this purpose, equipped with not just temperature controls but also calming visuals and sounds designed to keep billy’s system stable

the designated spot was meticulously prepared. soft lighting filled the room, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. the hum of air conditioners and strategically placed fans ensured the environment was cool. in the center of the room, billy sat on a cushioned chair, looking a bit puzzled but the aura he exuded was always happy

anby gave you a reassuring nod as she adjusted a fan to blow directly at billy. "remember, y/n, stick to the script and stay calm. we’re right here with you."

you took a deep breath and approached billy, your heart pounding. "hey, billy," you greeted, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach

"hey, [name]," he replied, the crescents of his eyes lighting up the room. "what’s up?"

you clutched the script tightly, glancing at the words one last time before looking up at him. "billy, there’s something i’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. it’s been on my mind, and i need you to know."

billy’s eyes widened slightly, his full attention on you. you continued, your voice soft but clear, following the script's guidance. "you mean a lot to me, more than just a friend. whenever i’m with you, everything feels brighter and better. your laughter, your kindness, the way you always know how to make me smile. i cherish every moment we spend together."

billy blinked, processing your words. the fans hummed softly, maintaining a cool breeze. you took another deep breath, steadying yourself. "billy, i like you. a lot. more than just a friend. i care about you deeply, and i wanted you to know how i feel."

for a moment, there was silence. billy’s eyes flickered, and you held your breath, waiting for the familiar signs of a reboot, slower movement, glitched speech, loss of composure, but instead, his eyes displayed bright red hearts

"[name]," he said softly, reaching out to take your hand. "i… i like you too. more than just a friend." nicole crept over to a cooling fan close to him, cranking up its power

unfortunately, the slip of paper didn't have any more words to refer to so you had to improvise. "so does this mean we're like, dating now?"

"are we really?! we're dating now?!" billy jumped up from his seat, practically oozing excitement and happiness, "wait, but i've never had a partner before. what if i do something wrong? what if you don't like me anymore?!" he shook your shoulders, speaking a mile a minute, ranting about all the things he could do wrong and all the things that could go wrong

"also, it's really cold in here, i can almost feel my metal constricting! can we turn the thermostat up or something?"

you couldn't help but laugh. "one step at a time, billy. let's start with the thermostat."

you finally got billy kid after seventy two reboots, and boy, wasn't it rewarding.

its actually so embarassing how long this took and its not even good....

billy kid taglist

@pedrosimp137 @mary-moongood @nyxin-lynx @lemonboy011 @eisblume77

@amaryllisenvy @megan017 @astral-spacepumpkin @corrupted-tale @inkycap

@thurstonw @plapsha @lavenderthewolf @kurakusun @vitaevaaa

@sweetadonisbutbetter @cobraaah @mochiitoby @clickingchip @bardivislak

@h3r6c00k13 @cozi-cofee @apestegui-y @luvuyuuji @theitdoitnobody

@fersitaam @cathrnxxo @monkepawbz @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n @dabislilbaby

@many-names-yuna @muffin1304 @doort @j3llycarnival @juuanna

@discipleofthem @spookylorekeep @wazkalia @miaubrebmiau @hersweetsstrawberry

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

hi dear just wondering if you're taking request? If not then feel free to ignore me but I was wondering what or how would the yandere twisted wonderland boys react to a willing reader who actually finds there yandere tendencies hot and endearing and actually does not mind being locked up or the reader is just generally obsessed as they are with them hahaha sorry if it's to hard but if you find it uncomfortable then feel free to ignore me dear

Yandere-Obsessed | Yandere Twisted Wonderland x Reader

Malleus Draconia

“I will never let you leave my sights again!”

“Why would I ever?” 

After nearly obliterating those he feels as though are a threat to your health

He snaps 

With glowing green eyes, he refuses to let you go despite any protests you may have

But you have none 

Immediately jumping into the near-dragon amalgamation’s arms as you lovingly rub your cheek against him

“I’m so happy, you feel the same!” 

“Wait…does…this mean you purposefully orchestrated the incident?”

“Hehehe maybe?”

“...You love me as well?”

“Ohh Malleus I adore you!”

He’s near melting 

You guys are the couple that sits in public places with hardly any space between you as your constantly looking into each other's eyes

Its a fight should anyone intervene

On both ends

Sebek’s reeling but he gains a whole lot of respect when you easily threaten his life

Malleus and you are in your own world

Most people don’t get killed only because you two are so focused on one another no one really penetrates your bubble

“My child of man it felt as if my heart was torn in two! I can breathe now that your in my arms again!”

“Oh Mal-Mal!”

Jack Howl

“W-wait (Y/n) i-its not what you think!”

“Really? It looks like that guy was suffocated to death and your burying him.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You can’t bury him yet until we remove any and all traces of you! See!? Your nail marks are a dead-giveaway!”

“Uh–”

“Here we should just burn this part that way no one will know!”

“T-thanks?”

“Of course, baby.”

He’s always felt guilty for the stuff he was doing in your name

But to see you his beloved, his mate assure him

Brings him an air of confidence

Now he knows that you acknowledge him and will even defend him

Like a true mate!

He’s so pleased he doesn’t have to fight you to accept him

Rather he’s fighting you from doing the same

It just makes him so embarrassed you care for him

“Love you don’t need to do away with the other contestants!”

“But look at your blush! You won’t mind it all that much you can step down from your high horse for me? Right?”

“...Fine b-but you promise to spend the rest of the night kissing me, right!?”

Idia Shroud

“Y-you knew I was watching? T-the whole time?!” 

“Yup! I’m surprised you hardly noticed the ones I had on you!”

“W-what!?”

Any semblance of the love-obsessed mad scientist is diminished by your overwhelming display of love

He’s too busy reeling from that obsessed look you give him

He’s so easy to dominate from then on

Avidly obeying all your promises to terminate anyone who talks to him 

All with a love-obsessed blush on his face

But even with your reciprocated love, he’ll eventually want for more

Whether he convinces himself you're faking it or that you are trying to outshine his love

He’s turning the tables on you 

Coming up with something that will really blow your socks off

Something to show you he is the ultimate yandere in this relationship

“Darling, how clever you summoned the robots of S.T.Y.X to eliminate all your rivals. But believe me, I will do the same.”

“Hehe you misunderstand, muffin! They’re aren’t only here to eliminate my rivals but there also going to escort you to my love dungeon!”

“Love dungeon?”

“Yeah, how’s that for yandere!? I love you more than anyone even you can’t compete with me!”

Jamil Viper

“So if my suspicions are right you’ve been using snake whisper so that they’ll all stay away from me, right?”

“...”

“Don’t look so tense I wanted to thank you! And I wanted to ask if you noticed my own attempts to be noticed by you?”

“W-what?!”

He’s usually on top of it when it comes to knowing about you and hiding his feelings at the same time

But he completely skimmed over your various attempts to reciprocate his violent-obsessive tendencies

He’s reluctant to believe you 

But when he does he’s falling even more in love

He plans to occupy all your time

And doesn’t mind when you start sleeping at Scarabia just to be closer to him 

He loves it so much

He acts so much goofier because he’s falling in love all over again

“You better not be lying to me about this…”

“Trance me if you really want to know!”

“Maybe I will.”

[mangalho]

Ex-warbot OC

They don’t have names yet.

The two bots with the scary faces were specifically made for war, and now that it’s over, they still maintained their original ‘warface’ even though it has stigma associated to it. Many robots changed their faceplates post-war, as it made it easier to find jobs and not get into unnecessary conflict.

The sleeker looking guy used to be in their company, though he wasn’t made in the same factory as them; he isn’t their ’batch-mate’.

After the war he completely modified his frame, and now has an idol career. He desperately wats to erase his past, as people (and robots alike) will respond better to a ‘new’ and untainted idol.

The two warface bots are “brother and sister” and they do odd jobs here and there to make ends meet and to be able to afford things they want. Rich people hire them as bouncers a lot since they are a symbol of terrible times. Sometimes they earn 15k in one night for just one gig it’s crazy. They both really love clothes since it distances them from their body’s original purpose while simultaneously not erasing their past. Also they look cute and cool!

The idol bot once meets the warfaces by chance in the street and pretends he doesn’t know them AGAHAKALAK I think he’s insane… completely erasing your past and the person you were is psychopathic to me idk. Anyway

There arent a lot of warfaces going around anymore. since they either died during the war or changed their frames. Pre-war bots were re-fitted during the conflicts and just had to go back to their former unweaponized frames after it was all over so they’re fine.  All of these robots can download information and i want that type of learning to mostly disappear if its deleted, but if they learn things like we do or experience real events, those memories and skills can’t really truly be erased; if they do try erasing them, they will still remember them, just not with HD video clarity, which brings them immense suffering sometimes. “How to people live like this?!” Well buddy it sucks idk we all cope

Newly minted robots are wack because they don’t exactly have a ‘soul’ yet they just do things they’re supposed to do, but after some time, all of them actually develop real awareness and shit… my war bots had like a 78% chance of dying everyday when they were activated, but they survived and attained sentience at like one year post birth and they wised up rly fast after that. They remember their first year, but they describe it as a ‘weird haze’

These robots feel pain so they wont like dive into a hole or damage themselves too much. Self preservation means longer-lived machines which means less repair costs and less human lives on the line as well.. slay !!!

While the conflicts went on, most robots achieved sentience and decided to stop fighting so there was like a robots rights movement and eventually the war stopped altogether and now the robots have a salary and a normal life mostly. They arent organics, so they need other things. They are solar powered and need oil sometimes and also they need new nanomachines once in a while like we need vaccines. Get your boosters… its not just tetanus and coronavirus anymore now they gotta think about like..the trojan horse 9000

I want them to have this aversion to organic things dying bc they are universally gross. Like they dont like seeing living-machines die either but a rat being squished by a car is also gross!

There are probably some tensions between humans and robots but like i kinda get it bc i wouldnt mess with a guy who has like lead pipes for arms. also most robots ARE normal but some are insane idk 🙆‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just  like people are.

 mine are normal tho they’re just vibing 💖🗣🤙