#maybe I should write an au

[beautifultypewriter]

Okay, so I just watched The Magic of Ordinary Days (2005) and I freaking loved it! Like seriously. It made me feel all the feelings. And now I need to read 10 books with the same exact plot.

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[1-marigold-1]

When your best friend is a bilblically accurate angel

They are all in the same situation guys (Yes I headcannon Pix as a watcher, since the Empires x Hermitcraft crossover hghgh)

They are three stages of one expierience

Mumbo: confused, shocked, kinda uncomfortable when around Grian in his full form, starts getting used to it

Impulse: Used to it

Sloy: Literally. Doesn't care. "You're a watcher? Cool."

Also this meme

That's the vibes I get from them

Ngl "My best friend is a biblically accurate angel" sounds like a good movie/book title

[homkamiro]

Someone suggested making an infection AU with my tf2/mlp crossover and you know I can't resist when stuff's about gore

Forgot to mention! Demo's body is so intoxicated with alcohol that infected don't want to attack him at all!

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[katsukikitten]

Both you and bakugou growing up on a youth reform farm, tolerating one another because of your friends until he gets jealous and calls you a buckle bunny cause you're wearing a buckle of a man ten years your senior who he used to idolize and Bakugou is jealous it isn't his.

And now the two of you hate each other's guts and it carries into your adult lives blah blah horses

[thewritingautisticat]

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Stars and Disco

(Disco side of the swap)

[sweeneydino]

Battle

Getting that 2012 Splinter treatment.

Was thinking of doing a short story on Yoshi's last moments, but I'm not particularly in the mood to do much of anything new rn cause of some things.

Might do it later tho.

...

The stab doesn't kill him but the poison might!

:)

He really wanted him dead.

[lihhelsing]

cw: domestic abuse and mentions of violence

Eddie Munson is the most infamous hitman in Chicago. Everyone knows of him and if you ever feel like getting rid of someone he’s who you should hire.

Enters mob boss Tommy Hagan.

He hires Eddie for a delicate job, one that gets Eddie doing home visits for Tommy, something he doesn’t usually do. There he meets Tommy’s fiance, Steve Harrington.

Steve is… Addictive. Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of him, even if he tried.

And he doesn’t really feel like trying because Steve is sweet, gorgeous, everything Eddie ever wanted but could never have.

Steve might be a househusband, but he knows a lot about Tommy's business and the people he makes deals with, so under the pretense of researching his target, Eddie starts spending time with Steve.

Tommy keeps a bunch of archives in his home and he asks Steve to personally help Eddie through all of that while he's dealing with other shit. Steve is more than happy to comply, enjoying the distraction - and the company.

It doesn't take long for Eddie to realize there's something wrong happening between Tommy and Steve. Tommy keeps the facade of a good soon-to-be husband, brings Steve's flowers and gifts every time he goes out, but Eddie has never seen Steve out of the house.

He's seen Steve asking their house staff to get groceries and things like that but he always just assumed Steve preferred not to leave the house. Now...

Eddie starts to see that what he thought was a good, perfect relationship doesn't seem that perfect anymore. He sees the bags under Steve's eyes whenever Tommy greets Eddie in a bad mood. He sees the underlying tension in Steve's shoulders whenever Tommy walks into the room.

He sees the bruises, too.

The decision is made before Eddie can even think it through, and he is willing to risk his reputation, his work, and his life if it means getting Steve out of this.

But he’s not the only one with secrets and things won’t be as simple as just killing Tommy and walking away.

[mbirnsings-71]

Struggled with today's art but I have to draw Scar Daily or I implode basically- also Ren for @pup-pee because I have to practice drawing him and Martyn after all-

Also I think Non-dog hybrid Ren is cursed but like it's what we're working with here we're balling-

[cursedzucchini]

Danny working as a batburger employee.

And now I know that ain't the most original thing on this website, but consider;

When Danny comes into contact with food, it gains sentience.

I mean imagine the jokerized fries coming alive trying to kill each other, bc there can be only one, before seeing the real joker and immediately forming a team to take that bitch down.

Or the poison ivy salad (I think) combining their powers together to try and kill whoever bought them.

Or the batburger hiding in the shadows.

Or like literally anything you can think of.

Just Danny, tired employee, trying to convince ppl to buy normal fries, bc if he gotta deal w the joker version one more fucking time he's burning this whole place down.

Or just trying to convince the food to stay on the plate. (And stabbing it to place if necessary)

So I'm not sure if anyone thought of this, but this is my vision ✋✨✨✨✨🤚

[maysrinn]

Despite everything Sejanus was compared to his younger siblings a really energetic little bundle of joy much to the enjoyment of his mother. Whatever emotion he was experiencing it was 120% of it. His little laughs where contagious. His pouts where at best entertaining or at worst frustrating, and his temper tantrums made Coriolanus question his whole existence…not exactly sure if he got from him or his mother…the answer is BOTH. 🐍✨

Since Lucy Gray didn’t allowed nannies to handle situations on their own, it automatically also made it his problem as well. Babies are unpredictable and Coryo doesn’t like it.

While Janus was energetic Xanthos was quite almost deadly silent, which worried lucy gray a lot of times leading for her to check on him every hour, just to see if her little boy was still alive. Sometimes resulting if not leaving his side all together. Rosalyn on the other hand was just mostly casually sleeping her infant months away, and being a bubbly happy baby while being awake, the dream of every parent. Coriolanus definitely approved of that 🥀

[animatedplush]

um .. hey fiddlestan nation… have u considered: priest!fiddleford and stan corrupting him sexually … teehee

[rowanisawriter]

This is my idea btw if anyone wants to see what’s making me shake and cry and scream and dry heave and hide from my own reflection in the mirror