#your asks are probably not getting eaten i'm probably just not answering them crying emoji

[mychlapci]

I think my long ass Asks are being eaten by tumblr so im keeping it short and sweet.

Insecticons filling the Rescue bots with eggs after invading the island <3

oh yes i like that. the insecticons make a pit stop at griffin rock to pump these fertile young carriers full of their eggs and then dip. the poor rescue team has to deal with a painful pregnancy and a lengthy emergence… after dozens of eggs are expelled, the insecticons come back to recover their spawn and make some more…

[nolanhollogay]

“I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.” + ant!

[lip bite emoji] ant & his dad angst

tw for emotional abuse & physical abuse

-

Ant's mother's birthday was always hard to get through. Both his and his father's grief threatened to swallow them whole, and the house became a vacuum for negativity.

But it was the one day of the year his father decided not to kick the crap out of him, so silver linings.

They were in the living room eating the horrible store bought birthday cake she adored, watching some movie Ant had never heard of but his father swore was her favorite. It was in black and white, and he was pretty sure it was about a murder, but he couldn't tell and he wasn't going to ask.

All things considered, it was a pretty good day.

Until Ant fucked it up.

His dad reached out for something, probably the remote that was on the coffee table, and Ant flinched, holding his breath, waiting for him to strike.

Quietly, voice hard, his dad asked, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Ant replied, quickly looking back to his cake. "Sorry."

"That wasn't nothing, Anthony," his dad said. He threw his plate full of half eaten cake onto the table. Icing jumped off of it, splattering pink onto the knee of Ant's jeans. "C'mon, man up. What was that? Did you think I was going to hit you for no reason?"

Ant bit back the remark that he rarely ever needed a reason to hit him. "It wasn't anything. I'm sorry. It's just.. Sometimes I feel like I cant breathe when i’m around you.”

His father planted his feet firmly on the floor and Ant braced himself. Even though he’d been hit before and would be hit again, was more than familiar with the sting of a palm to his cheek or a punch to the gut, he still found himself thinking Please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me, pleasepleaseplease.

Instead, his father clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump.

"Why do you feel like that?" he asked. It was a fucking catch twenty-two. He was fucked no matter how he answered. Whether he answered or not.

Ant shrugged, looking away from him. "I don't know."

"You must know or you wouldn't feel that way. C'mon, Anthony, be a man. Speak your mind."

It was a taunt. A trap.

For a very brief moment, Ant hated him. He knew he probably should've, but he could never bring himself to hate his father. How do you hate the person who raised you, the person who made you who you are?

"I don't know. I don't."

A woman was being murdered on TV, being stabbed through the shower curtains. Ant couldn't tear his eyes away because that meant looking at his father. If he looked at his father, then he'd win.

In the end, it didn't matter.

His father grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to look at him. Ant bit his tongue to hide his wince.

"Answer me, god damn it!" he barked. That was the only way to describe it. It wasn’t a shout, but the word flying out of his mouth and stabbing Ant’s heart.

"Because you're going to hurt me!" Ant said automatically, without permission from his brain.

His father froze for just a moment, and guilt flashed in his eye before it was gone. Much quieter, but not any softer, he said, “I only hurt you when you deserve it. Because you deserve it. Maybe if you could follow simple fucking instructions and had some respect you wouldn’t get hurt so often, huh? Ever think of that?”

Ant didn’t reply, focusing too hard on trying not to cry. Things would get way worse if he cried. It always did.

His father let go of his hair, practically throwing him off of the couch. “Clean up this fuckin’ cake.” He got to his feet and walked out of the room, but not before standing in the doorway and stating, “Congrats, you ruined your mother’s birthday. Hope you’re happy.”

Ant had to sit there in silence, watching the old black and white movie with teary eyes, before he could bring himself to clean up the mess.