#the left hand who loves him

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[jubileedeeznuts-posting]

as my personal resident seiko lover how you doing after the seiko mentions

BLUBBERED like a baby and then scribbled this Out

[mschismosa]

Silly comic for day 1 of barok week: Past ⚔️✨

I love putting him in stupid situations, sorry.

[tohruies]

“coco, do you mind if i hold your hand for a while?”

“h-huh?! um, yes!”

“oh… alright then, forgive me for being so forward.”

“wait, sorry, i mean— no, of course, i don’t!! um! sorry, i don’t mind! i don’t mind if we held hands at all…”

“… you’re, um, endearingly reactive.”

— THANK YOU SO MUCH NICK FREN!!! 🥺💖 for bringing yaoco ‘first date’ to life :’3 in your most beautiful cutieful art style :’’3 @scarameownya nick is so awesome to work with; he is exceptionally talented and communicative!! his eye for details is impeccable and he always strives to tell a story through his art which is so very lovely 🥺 you should absolutely consider commissioning him whenever he has open slots hehe YAY!!!!

[smile-files]

authority has only found me appealing because they've always known i'd make a great cog in the machine

[starry-bi-sky]

DPXDC Idea: Mother of Monsters Dan(yal)

Specifically Fem!Dan because I made this in mind with my Fem Danyal Au bUT. The best part about Dan is that I get to play dress up with her, and Fem Dark Dany is gonna go by Layal (pronounced lae-el) because it means "the nights" and it sounds similar to Danyal, and I think she'd choose that name to mock Dany. ANYWAYS

Mother of Monsters Danyal. She may be evil but she's an Al Ghul at her core (even with vlad's soul merged with hers - however, considering that Layal looks and sounds like Dany, she considers that soul to be the more dominant one.) and loves animals. And she might be heartless, but she adores the monsters of the infinite realms.

Mother of Monsters Layal who hates everyone but utterly dotes and adores on every manner of beast she comes across. Stealing the eggs and infant young beasts of the Infinite Realms to raise as her own because she wanted them. Her own island full of monsters, a monstrous menagerie of her own. She steals most often from poachers or exotic pet keepers and other menageries -- the full grown beasties can keep their young.

And with every monster she raises, she can shapeshift their features onto herself, allowing her to change her shape from humanish to any matter of monster or hybrid creature. She calls herself their mother, and them her children. Her precious little babies, capable of incredible mass destruction and mayhem.

From little griffins the size of kittens, to stymphalian vulture chicks, and leviathan young hatching from eggs the size of her pinkie, to creatures native of the ghost zone that didn't even have names in the living realm. There really wasn't a limit to what or who she would take in and she didn't limit herself to any form of mythology. If they were beasts and they were unwanted, she wanted them. And as such, amassed her own mini army of "children" willing to listen to her any command.

Earth doesn't know what hit it when she attacks them.

There are many monstrous forms she could take on, the first one I've thought of is a combination of various serpentine/reptilian features. The body of a naga -- her lower half long and serpentine, her upper still human -- with spiked fins connecting from the bottom of her arms to her sides, ever seen Sinbad where Eris goes "you might have seen my likeness on the temple walls" and her arms do that fin thingy? Same concept. Her hands are webbed and taloned, perfect for slicing through the skin of the living, and her teeth are needle-sharp and shark like. Her hair can either be spiny and feathery-like like the spines of a lionfish, or frilled like a frilled-neck lizard. It's perfect for dealing and doting on her reptilian and amphibian-inclined darlings.

I'm more of a fan of aus where Dan is a sibling of Danny's rather than their kid, so Layal's redemption(..?? probation?) proceeds with her legally becoming Danyal's "twin" sister, who had been lost to the foster system before the Fentons adopted Dany, and was only recently reunited with her. The two of them look so alike that the lie is easy to take root and spread.

Layal is very indignant to the fact that she's now ten years in the past and has to restart her menagerie all over again. Do you know how much blood and sweat went into raising those children? How dare you separate them from their mummy. Although she'll admit she does miss their juvenile years, so she won't mind (too much) needing to raising them again. Dany is helping her retrieve all of them though, dammit.

long story short: epic the musical's "Scylla" has a CHOKEHOLD on me and this is the result of it

Unlike her Dan counterpart, Layal's voice is dancing and sirenic. It's purposely alluring and motherly, in order to lure people into a false sense of security until she feeds them to her "children." Echidna doesn't have shit on her. She almost seems friendly and reasonable, until you get too close and realize it was all an act and she drops it to metaphorically swallow you whole. She's like an anglerfish that way. She and Dany both sound like Scylla from Epic.

[sankttealeaf]

its two in the morning and i'm plagued by thoughts of the von zarovich brothers

[azaisya]

oh to be the last king of your people, knowing that this will be your final act but that the god who has watched over you for generations deserves nothing less

(oh to be killed by a man who thinks it mercy, who knows nothing but that you're his god and that your death will mean his own, who wears your brother's face)

[taters-for-tots]

hey guys i went fucking insane last night i guess

[cloysterbell]

'Cause that's what us, we mere mortals, do. We die. And sometimes it's not pretty. It's ugly and it's messy and it's painful.

[laniidae-passerine]

I am so not immune to a Medea moment. my beloved has left me. we had a life and a love and a child. my beloved has left me for another. I have lost my life and my love. I still have my child. my beloved deserves to pay. all he has ever really loved is our child. here is a stage. here is a role. here is the chorus to sing my sins. here is my beloved with his horrified gaze, fixed on me. here is my beautiful daughter. here I am, in her countenance, her phrasing, her cruelty and her mirth, mother that I am. punishing him. letting the light in. letting my daughter burn. and here I am, in those beautiful eyes of the girl I helped raise, the very last thing she ever sees before she dies. I am her and she is me; and all that is left of us both is utter agony

[bolly--quinn]

The craziest part of the episode to me is the ice cream table exchange about Beth tbh like Morty truthfully believes that Rick would say

“This may as well be our real daughter because she’s just as real as you.”

and

“Put it this way. You’re all basically NPCs. Only Morty and I are real, so your side quests don’t matter. The main quest is us.” (referring to he and Diane exclusively)

And when Diane, rightfully, combats him for his thinking with

“You’re disgusting. You’re talking about our baby girl like she’s theoretical?”

Beth throws in “Welcome to the family.”

Which might be one of the most heartbreaking lines in the whole thing to me because Morty has observed Rick enough to believe that this line of thinking is entirely in character for not only Rick but for the rest of the family too. Like Morty truly believes that Rick doesn’t care about them in anyway and that when faced with this, even Beth would just respond with the belief that this is the norm, at least from Rick anyway. So much so, that he uses an outside character in Diane to call out how insane it is.

Morty believes that Rick only cares about Diane and literally everyone else doesn’t matter and that’s just so sad to me, especially when we have seen otherwise but he can’t be faulted for thinking that when Rick carries that facade with him almost always, and especially to Morty directly.

[bertrei]

The bertholdt hoover fandom is dying rt if youd wipe the sweat from his brow like if youd give him a warm glass of milk

[hikaruchen]

I believe the king of Wessex cares for you.

[kurithedweeb]

I just learned why Shad hates Irene in canon and knowing what I do now about everyone’s favorite the Matron, I can say with my whole heart,

What the hell, Irene

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 6

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 971

Written: 21st December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Masterlist AO3

Sylus' body is an inferno. He's well used to running hotter than most. It's just another part of who he is, that doesn't occur to him the majority of the time.

The first few times you'd shared a bed, you'd wriggled out of his grasp, sweating and uncomfortable. Had he had less control over himself, he'd have pouted. (You probably didn't miss the furrow in his brow though.)

So he'd slept wearing as little as possible.

Still too much, waking up in the middle of his sleep schedule to find you across the bed, covers thrown off to cool down. Shedding your discomfort.

Next he'd taken to pulling your clothes off. Always a delight, this time a driven aim. It had worked somewhat, you'd wrapped yourself into his embrace and tangled around him, seeking out the heat of his body like he was your personal pillow.

It lasted longer, but still he was awoken by you edging away, seeking the chill of a turned over pillow and the outside of the duvet.

He'd changed the type of bedding he used, bought you new bedding.

You'd told him to stop worrying, to stop paying expenses, sometimes it was just too warm.

Sylus was sure at that he'd grumbled like a child. He wanted to hold you, and he wanted to wake up with you in his arms.

Everytime you moved out of his reach, he itched and ached like scales growing through raw skin. It was one of the few times he envied the doctor, he never seemed to have trouble with keeping you clinging throughout your slumber.

Eventually he had two things fitted, a ceiling fan and air conditioning. The change to temperature meant so little to him, unbothered by heat or cold. When you'd seen them on your next visit, you'd been incredulous. Since when did he need either of these?

He didn't answer that he needed them for you, for him, he just made an offhand comment about the best, and preparation for the future. (The immediate future. His sleep quality.)

His relief that day when he'd woken up, your head under his chin, legs tangled with his, and arms around him. Seeking out his skin against yours.

The second you left the bed, however, you'd complained for the chill. He left the remote for the new tools of his victory, in your hands, but he had gleefully held you as long as he could, chin on shoulder and hands dancing across cool skin.

Your week off has allowed him to experience that for a few days now, he's using your sleep pattern for the week, though there is no real track of time in the sky of the N109 Zone. He doesn't want to make your return to work difficult.

As he wakes, this morning you have stayed asleep, catching up on long hours. Your back is pressed to his chest and you're holding onto his arm. He won't tease you about the drool out the corner of your mouth, but he files away the image for himself. Tickled and endeared.

He doesn't want to wake you, you're so peaceful... but he can't stop himself from pulling as close as he can. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, and breathing you in.

You smell like his last meal in every life. Like he could bite down and die happy, your blood in his mouth and your soul in his chest.

If he were a weaker man, perhaps he'd drool as well, salivating and starving.

He certainly feels starved when he cannot keep you close, desperate and dogged.

You'd teased him that he reminds you of a wolf, and he thinks that's more accurate than he likes. He would bite your hand lovingly, but tear and snarl at your command, if that's what you wanted from him.

Sylus wants to get up, if he can get breakfast ready, he can see your eyes light up. Hand you a mug of coffee, that turns his nose, in bed. So you'll kiss his cheek and sigh happily.

He feels satisfaction when he sees you happy because of him. Yet...

Pressed against you, your chest moving with each breath. So alive, and warm and his. You trust him to guard you, to kiss your neck when the scent drives him to madness, to keep you warm against the cold. He once mused that you still took his hand despite how dangerous he was, and every day he marvels more at how you continue to do so.

Now when you take his hand, you place a kiss on his knuckles. That if he had no healing ability, would be scarred and torn and ruinous. He thinks, that even if that were the case... you would still kiss them tender and raw.

You had always seen something in him that no one else did. Flowers suiting his soul, a smile worthy of his face, love belonging in his hands.

He feels sick with the feeling, overflowing from where joined hearts beat in his chest, but it's a sickness he would never wish to heal himself of. Peace found despite how little he probably deserves it.

Sylus is selfish though. A fragment, a taste, a burst of you had not been enough. Millennia's will not be enough. Until the end of the world itself he will never think this is enough.

No matter his sullied hands, or the actions he has made, some of which he would not apologise for, he will never relinquish his treasure.

His Soul.

You who owns his heart for eternity.

As he bites down at your shoulder, stirring your sleep, and laves with his tongue to your sleepy pleasure, he settles for a taste of the cure to his hunger, that he plans to draw out forever.