#she doesn't deserve android hell

[rakkikuroba]

"Helloo? Is anyone there?"

Now introducing, tiny lego turret! (She fits in the palm of your hands!)

Fresh out of the production line! (and not because i was too lazy to make her stand in Studio...)

And she comes in discoloured colours! (She's different! please put me down)

How do we get so many lego bullets in 'em? Like this! ... Oh ... there's no bullets?

And the best news? You can build her too! And in the colours you want! You want her yellow? (Why would you want this?) Go for it i guess? Like good luck finding that slope curved 2 x 4 in yellow

"Target lost. Goodbye."

[alwaysmicado]

The Bunny

7.1k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Nathan Bateman Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, soft(ish) Nathan, mild smut, alcohol, drunk Nathan being horny, emotionally repressed idiots in love Summary: When you’re distressed over something very personal, Nathan shows you a side of himself that you haven’t seen before. A/N: This story can be read alone or together with my other Nathan fics. In my mind, this is the same reader as in predator & prey, in control, Fleshlight and smile, baby—but it doesn't have to be. Happy reading & let me know what you think! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @/cafekitsune.

Your life with Nathan is an exercise in contradiction. 

It’s like orbiting a distant star—searing heat one moment, icy indifference the next. 

You hate that you find him attractive, hate that his arrogance somehow draws you in, but you can’t help it. He has an irresistible pull on you. You don’t understand him, and that’s part of the problem.

One minute, he’s a brilliant visionary; the next, a drunken, whiny mess. And somehow, amidst the confusion, you’ve found yourself craving his touch more than anything else in the world.

You’re not dating, not in any traditional sense. The boundaries of your relationship blur after dark, but you’ve seemingly found a rhythm that works for both of you. And that rhythm entails staying out of each other’s personal business. 

What you have is casual. At least, you’ve convinced yourself it is.

Sometimes, when he’s being particularly infuriating, you wonder if it’s just stress relief for both of you; fucking your frustrations into each other simply because you’re both there. Other times, you catch yourself overthinking every little detail, wondering if you’re falling for him, and if so, whether it’s the man or the enigma you’re falling for.

You try not to think about it too much.

He has this way of getting under your skin though. It could be the way he lazily sprawls across a couch, his eyes half-lidded but alert, or how he dismisses your concerns with a casual wave of his hand, expecting you to move on as if nothing he says or does affects you. But you do care. It does affect you.

And it annoys you how much.

Tonight, after a long day of work, you retreat to your room, needing space for yourself. Nathan’s house is a labyrinth of technology and luxury you’ve come to really love and appreciate for its unique design and remoteness, but there’s a particular, strange comfort in the sterile, minimalistic walls leading to your bedroom. They don’t judge, don’t ask questions. They don’t look at you with the unsettling intensity that Nathan sometimes does.

You close your door, leaning against it as you exhale. Your room is your sanctuary, cluttered with things that feel out of place in Nathan’s stark, clinical world. Books, trinkets, and your beloved bunny plushie resting against your pillow, a remnant of simpler times. A remnant of that wide-eyed girl with ambitions and a thirst for adventure who vowed to get the hell out of that miserable town.

Well, that girl is grown up now. And she’s exhausted, more mentally than physically.

You’re struggling to keep up with your deadlines, rationalizing your work, and the overwhelming feeling that you don’t deserve to be here, that Nathan made a mistake when he selected you, that you’re simply not cut out for this life. 

You take a deep breath and decide to put on your comfiest pants and a soft shirt, get into bed and read a bit while sipping on a warm cup of tea. Yeah. That’s what your soul needs right now. No Nathan, no androids, no computers, no nothing. Just you and your favorite Kazuo Ishiguro book.

But then, as you reach for the mug on your nightstand to empty the leftover coffee from this morning, your hand slips. The coffee spills, soaking the sheets, and worst of all, your bunny. The dark liquid seeps into his white fur, staining the once soft, clean fabric.

You freeze and a moment of pure, unfiltered horror grips you. You don’t hear the mug shattering on the floor over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. The sight of the plushie, now a soggy mess, tugs at something deep inside you as you stare at it through watery eyes. It’s not rational, you know that, but emotions seldom are. It feels as though a part of your childhood has just been desecrated.

You’re devastated. 

The kind of devastation that tightens your chest, that makes everything inside you twist until you’re sure you’re going to break. You try to swallow it down, to contain the storm brewing inside, but it spills over before you can stop it.

And before you know it, you’re screaming. 

It’s a scream born of frustration, from the sudden surge of emotion that you can’t quite name, let alone control. It’s raw, primal, echoing off the cold, sterile walls outside and traveling through every inch of the house. The kind of scream that demands attention, that insists the world recognize your pain, even if you don’t fully understand it yourself.

You barely register the thudding of footsteps—heavy, quick, purposeful. Nathan. Of course it’s him. He’s always watching, always listening, probably heard you through one of his countless surveillance cameras. In a place like this, your privacy is an illusion, your every move monitored, recorded, dissected.

And now, your pain has become just another blip on his radar.

He’s probably annoyed, you think bitterly. Annoyed that he had to stop whatever important work he was doing in his lab because he can’t have you screaming and crying and possibly bleeding out in his house.

Nathan doesn’t tolerate messes, especially not emotional ones. And with the hangover he’s likely nursing, his patience is probably thinner than usual. You imagine him wincing at the sound, the way it cuts through the quiet, sharp and unrelenting, aggravating his already pounding head.

The door rattles as he reaches it, and you can almost picture the irritated expression on his face, the way his brow furrows, his jaw tightening. In that moment, you hate him for it, hate him for the way he can reduce you to a problem to be solved, an inconvenience to be managed.

But there’s a part of you, the part that’s still trembling from the force of your own scream, that’s also desperate for him to come in, to see you, to make it better, even though you know he won’t.

Because Nathan Bateman doesn’t do comfort. He does control. And in this moment, you’re the one thing in his world that’s slipping out of it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is a mixture of concern and impatience.

You don’t answer, your heart still pounding, your hands shaking as you hold your bunny close, trying to assess the damage. It feels ridiculous, absurd even, but the sight of your beloved plushie, soaked and stained, has shattered something fragile inside you. You can’t explain it, don’t want to explain it, especially not to him.

Nathan knocks again, harder this time, more insistent. “Open up. Now.”

“I’m fine!” you shout back, but the words catch in your throat, betraying you with their shaky delivery. You try to sound convincing, but you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“Sure doesn’t sound like it,” he retorts. “Let me in.”

You glance at the door, knowing that if he wanted to, he could override the lock. But you also know he won’t—at least not yet. He respects boundaries, in his own twisted way.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, and there’s a softer edge to his voice now, an undercurrent of genuine worry that catches you off guard. The knot in your chest tightens.

“What? No, I’m– I said I’m fine, Nathan. Just...leave me alone.” The plea slips out, your voice trembling, betraying how much you just want to be left in peace, to sort yourself out without being interrogated.

“I’m not doing that until you tell me what’s wrong. You can’t scream bloody murder and expect me not to–”

“I’m sorry.”

Nathan pauses for a moment, stumped. This isn’t good. This isn’t like you. “You don’t need to apologize,” he says, his tone calmer now, almost coaxing. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry.” The words come out rushed, panicked, like you’re trying to escape from the truth that’s threatening to spill over. But you know you’re not convincing him; you’re not even convincing yourself.

There’s a heavy silence on the other side of the door, and you can almost feel Nathan grappling with how to handle this. Then, he says your name—softly, but with a depth that pierces right through your defenses. It’s a tone of voice you’ve only ever heard a couple of times after some particularly demanding play sessions.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You close your eyes and take a shaky breath before responding. “I’m okay, Nathan. Just please…leave.”

You hate how weak you sound, how vulnerable, but you’re too overwhelmed to care anymore. You just need him to go, to give you space to fall apart in peace.

There’s a pause, a silence so thick you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind. You almost think he’s left, but then you hear the sound of him leaning against the door, the quiet sigh that follows.

“Fine,” he says finally, his voice lower now. “I’m, uh, in the lab if you...I’m working on Lana’s muscle tissue if you wanna help.”

His words hang in the air, an unexpected offer, awkwardly delivered. You can picture him on the other side, running a hand through his beard, trying to figure out how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.

Nathan Bateman, the genius, the mastermind, suddenly uncertain.

After a moment of continued silence, he steps back, respecting your wish. The concern, however, doesn’t leave his mind. His footsteps fade, leaving you alone with the mess you’ve made. The room feels colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves have drawn back in silent judgment. You slump down onto the bed, staring at your poor bunny, your fingers tracing the wet patches on his fur. 

For a second, you could swear you see disappointment in his glassy, button eyes.

The digital alarm clock on your nightstand blinks back at you as you wake up from your nap, showing that it’s well into the evening, the sky outside already swallowed by darkness.

The adrenaline that had surged through you earlier has long since dissipated, leaving behind a hollow, drained feeling in its wake. It’s as if the very act of screaming, of letting that raw emotion pour out of you, has stripped you of energy, leaving you brittle, fragile.

You know you should take a shower and change the sheets, but the thought of moving feels overwhelming. So you sit there, numb, your mind replaying the events of the past few days on a loop.

Eventually, it’s not resolve or determination that drives you to get up, but hunger. A dull, persistent gnawing that you can’t ignore. You drag yourself out of bed, each step feeling heavier than the last as you make your way to the bathroom to clean up at least a little bit.

The house is quiet as you make your way to the kitchen, the usual hum of activity subdued, as if it too is holding its breath.

When you enter the living room, Nathan is already there, seated at the table, a glass of red wine in hand. The rich burgundy liquid swirls lazily in the glass as he tilts it, the glow of the ceiling lamps casting a soft, golden light that highlights the curve of his nose.

His expression is unreadable at first, his usual mask of casual detachment firmly in place. But as his eyes land on you, taking in your disheveled appearance—your eyes red-rimmed and swollen, your gaze fixed on anything but him—something in his demeanor shifts. He’s never seen you cry outside of sex, and the sight unsettles him more than he’s willing to admit.

Nathan isn’t a man who deals well with vulnerability, especially not when it comes from someone like you, someone he’s come to rely on for your sharp mind and quick wit. But now, seeing you like this, raw and exposed, something inside him stirs—a protective instinct he didn’t know he had, and isn’t sure he wants.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he remarks, his tone light, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—concern, maybe? It’s hard to tell with him.

You shrug, avoiding his gaze as you grab a plate from the counter and start dishing up whatever’s left from dinner. You’re not really hungry, but the act of eating feels like something normal, something grounding.

Nathan watches you in silence, his gaze heavy. You can feel it, like a weight on your shoulders. You sit down at the table, focusing intently on your food, though it might as well be cardboard for all the flavor it has. You avoid eye contact, keeping your gaze fixed on your plate or the glass in front of you, anything to avoid meeting those piercing eyes that seem to see too much. The fork in your hand feels foreign, and every bite is a chore. You down three glasses of red wine in quick succession, the warmth spreading through you in an attempt to numb the edge of your anxiety.

But even the wine can’t drown out the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Nathan starts talking, his voice filling the space between you. He launches into a detailed explanation of the progress he’s made with his newest creation, his words laced with the usual excitement he reserves for his work.

Normally, you’d be right there with him, diving into the technicalities, challenging his ideas, offering your own insights. It’s what you do—it’s what makes you a great team. But tonight, it’s different. Occasionally, you nod or murmur a soft “hmm,” but it’s clear that your heart isn’t in it.

You’re not there with him—not really—and it’s obvious.

“...so close to healing itself, I’m telling you. The polymers have shown to be extremely resilient–” he hesitates mid-sentence, as if waiting for you to jump in, to offer the insight that usually comes so naturally to you. But when you don’t, when the silence stretches on longer than it should, he falters.

He looks at you, then at Kyoko standing obediently in the background, then back at you.

“Kyoko, leave us alone,” he instructs the mute android, his eyes tracking her as she leaves the room. Once the door clicks shut behind her, he doesn’t waste a second. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t look at him, poking at your food with a deliberate slowness, hoping he’ll drop it. “No–”

“Don’t say nothing, this isn’t nothing,” he interrupts, his voice firm, leaving no room for evasion.

You stiffen, your fork clattering against your plate as you glare at him. “Why do you care?”

He raises an eyebrow, unfazed by your sharp tone. “Because you screamed like someone was murdering you. And now you’re sitting here looking like a kicked puppy. So yeah, I care.”

“I don’t wanna tell you. How about that?” You lift your head, forcing a condescending smile that feels like a shield, one you hope will keep him at bay.

Nathan’s jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t back down. “And I can’t have you crying and moping around. It’s…distracting.”

“Well, I’m sorry for distracting you, Nathan,” you bite back, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “It won’t happen again.”

A beat passes, and in that moment, you can see the gears turning in his mind as he tries to piece together what he could have done to upset you this time. His thoughts race, quickly scanning through recent interactions, searching for any sign, any clue that might explain why you’re so distant, so...off.

Nothing stands out. You’ve always been able to hold your own, not easily shaken by his brusque nature or single-minded dedication to his projects. But then, his mind lands on a familiar concern—something that’s come up before. It’s the only thing that makes sense. 

“You’re not jealous ‘cause of Lana, are you?”

You snort, the sound more bitter than amused. The idea is so absurd that it doesn’t even warrant a full laugh.

But Nathan isn’t laughing. His eyes narrow slightly, his usual sharp gaze honing in on you with unsettling precision. He studies you carefully, analyzing every microexpression, every subtle twitch of muscle that might give away what you’re really feeling.

His gaze travels slowly, deliberately, from your face down to your neck, lingering there for a moment before moving to your arms. You have a couple of visible bruises from last night, but that’s to be expected given the way you and Nathan play. 

But now…now he’s wondering if he might have crossed a line without realizing it, if he pushed too far and you’re too proud to speak up.

“Was I too rough yesterday?” he asks suddenly, his voice low.

“Huh?” The question throws you off, the abrupt shift in his tone catching you by surprise.

“Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” There’s a faint line of guilt etched across his brow, a rare sight.

You stare at him, your eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and weariness. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh, the exasperation clear in your voice.

“I know this is a difficult concept for you to grasp, but the universe actually doesn’t revolve around you,” you say, your tone resigned, almost tired. “There’s more to life than androids, having sex with androids, having sex with me, or even you and me as people. It’s all meaningless bullshit, Nathan.”

Nathan blinks, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of your words. He tilts his head slightly, studying you as if trying to decipher whether you’re serious or if this is just another one of your biting remarks. “Are you okay?”

You let out a small, bitter laugh, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The irony of your own dramatic outburst isn’t lost on you, and you can’t help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. As you down the rest of your wine in one quick gulp, the warmth of the alcohol does little to dull the edge of your emotions.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Nathan leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then tell me what happened. Might help.”

You bite your lip, frustration bubbling up again. “I can’t. It’s dumb.”

You brace yourself for the inevitable snide remark, for Nathan to dismiss your feelings with some cynical observation about the meaningless nature of the universe, to reduce your pain to just another inconsequential blip in the grand scheme of things.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he surprises you.

He leans back further, his posture more relaxed, his gaze steady as it locks onto yours. “Not if it makes you this sad. Come on, talk to me.”

There’s no condescension, no sarcasm, just an unexpected patience that catches you off guard. For a moment, you just stare at him, searching his face for the usual smugness, the mask of indifference he wears so well. But it’s not there. Instead, there’s something else, something gentler, and it stirs something inside you that you’ve been trying to suppress for some time now.

You sigh, feeling the fight drain out of you as the weight of the day catches up. “It’s stupid, Nathan. You’ll think it’s stupid.”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t rush you. “Try me.”

You absentmindedly play with your napkin as you decide to rip the bandaid off. “I spilled coffee on my bunny.”

“You spilled coffee on your bunny,” he repeats slowly, as if trying to understand.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like you don’t have other vibr–”

You roll your eyes, secretly amused by his thought process. “It’s not a fucking vibrator.”

“Okay, but unless you’ve been secretly building an AI rabbit, I don’t–”

“It’s a plushie.”

“A plushie.”

“Yeah, my bunny Cinnamon. I’ve had him since I was fourteen and he’s been with me through school and my whole adult life and through everything. I’ve always taken care of him, making sure he doesn’t get dirty, and today I spilled my stupid fucking coffee that I don’t even like ‘cause you buy these stupid beans no normal human would ever like, and I spilled it on him and it soaked into his fur, and now he’s ruined ‘cause I’m a clumsy fucking loser who can’t even take care of an inanimate object.”

You finish your rant, raising an eyebrow. “Happy?”

Nathan looks at you with a furrowed brow, clearly taken aback. For a moment, you think he’s going to laugh, and you hold his gaze, ready for the ridicule you’re sure is coming.

But he doesn’t laugh. He just stares at you, a mixture of confusion and...something else in his eyes. “Why don’t you just clean it?”

You push your chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor, and stand up, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Forget it. This was stupid. I’m going to bed.”

You turn to leave, but before you can take a step, Nathan’s hand is on your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “Wait.”

You stop, not turning around, not trusting yourself to face him.

“Hey,” he says, softer this time. “I’m not...I’m not making fun of you, okay? I just...didn’t expect that.”

You glance back at him, and the look on his face is so uncharacteristically sincere that you actually believe him. He looks almost...concerned. Genuinely concerned.

“It’s just a plushie,” you mutter, feeling foolish for letting him see you like this. But Nathan doesn’t let go of your arm.

“Maybe. But it obviously means something to you.” He hesitates, then adds, “Let me help.”

You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. This is new territory—Nathan offering to help with something so personal, something so seemingly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t part of your job description, nor is it part of your usual dynamic. You’re not sure how to feel. 

“What do you mean ‘help’?”

Nathan smirks, that familiar cocky edge returning. “I could make Cardamom or whatever his name is–”

“It’s Cinnamon,” you interject, your tone flat but with a trace of amusement that you can’t quite suppress.

“–play the piano or explain particle physics to you if I wanted to,” he continues without missing a beat. “You think I can’t clean him up?”

You sigh. Can’t argue with that.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice softer now. “But you can’t be too rough with him. His fur is very delicate.” The words come out more vulnerable than you intended, and you can feel the weight of what you’re entrusting him with.

“That’s why I’ve avoided washing him—I’m scared he’ll get damaged in the process. And be extra careful with his right ear. My grandma had to sew it back on a couple of times, and it’s barely hanging on.”

You pause, looking deeply into his eyes before you add, “And I know you probably think there’s no way I’d ever figure out you replaced him, but I swear I will. And I swear I’ll smother you with a pillow in your sleep if you do.”

Nathan’s smirk fades slowly, replaced by an expression that’s surprisingly serious. He nods, meeting your gaze with a sincerity that’s rare for him. “I won’t. I promise.”

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. Then, you pull your arm from his grip, feeling the warmth of his touch linger even after you’ve stepped away. You nod towards the hallway. “I’ll go get him.”

Nathan nods, his eyes following you as you leave the kitchen. Once you’re out of sight, he exhales deeply, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly. He pours himself another glass of wine, the liquid sloshing into the glass, and without hesitation, he chugs it down in one go.

The quiet of the night wraps around you, a stark contrast to the tension that has filled the kitchen just moments ago. The sound of your footsteps crunching on the gravel path is the only thing that breaks the silence as you start walking, letting the night sky and the crisp air clear your mind.

The stars above are faint, blurred by the ambient light of the house, but their presence is calming. You shove your hands into your pockets, trying to steady your breathing, to let the chaos in your head dissipate with each step you take.

The trees rustle softly in the wind, their branches swaying gently, and you find a rhythm in their movement, letting it guide you further away from the house, from Nathan, from everything.

As you walk, the tension in your chest begins to ease. The cool air feels like a balm on your frayed nerves, each breath you take helping to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside you. The doubts, the worries, the unexpected tenderness of Nathan’s promise—all of it seems to drift away, carried off by the breeze.

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky. The vastness of it makes your concerns feel small, insignificant, like a tiny piece of a much larger puzzle. And yet, your feelings of inadequacy still weigh on you, lingering in the back of your mind.

The walk brings a sense of clarity, a chance to distance yourself from the intensity of your worries, your stress, your fears. You needed this—to step away, to breathe, to remind yourself of who you are outside of everything that’s been happening. The steady rhythm of your footsteps, the coolness of the air, and the quiet solitude of the night slowly bring you back to yourself.

As you step inside, the house is cloaked in a quiet stillness, the dimmed lights casting soft shadows across the sleek decor. There’s a warmth to it that you hadn’t noticed before, a subtle comfort in the way everything is arranged, each detail meticulously chosen. It feels like home. It sounds strange, even to yourself, but it does.

This is your home.

You find Nathan lounging on the couch in his sweatpants, a beer in hand, the television on but muted, the flickering images washing his features in soft, rhythmic light. There’s a stillness to him, a calm that contrasts sharply with the man you’re used to—a man of constant motion, always thinking, always creating.

The scene is oddly serene, almost peaceful, and you take a moment to just look at him, to take in the man who has become such a pivotal part of your world.

It’s strange to think about how much has changed in the past year. How this man, with all his brilliance and flaws, has shown you a life you couldn’t have dreamed of before.

Empty bottles litter the table, evidence that he’s been going at it since you left an hour ago, either lost in his thoughts or deliberately trying to drown them. It’s hard to tell with Nathan.

You sit down beside him, feeling the tension in your body ease further as you settle into the familiar proximity.

Nathan glances at you, his eyes briefly scanning your face before he wordlessly offers you the bottle. You take it, the cold glass a comforting weight in your palm, and bring it to your lips. The cool liquid slides down your throat, its familiar taste bringing a sense of comfort.

“Feeling better?” Nathan asks, his voice rough around the edges.

“Yeah,” you nod, handing him the bottle. 

You shrug off your jacket, draping it over the arm of the couch, and you catch the way Nathan’s eyes immediately track the movement. His gaze lingers on the way your tight shirt clings to your curves, the fabric accentuating every line, every contour of your body.

It’s a work of art, and Nathan knows a thing or two about art—about bodies, creating bodies, perfecting them in ways that only a mind like his can. But as he looks at you, he’s aware that no creation of his, no flawless android, could ever compare to the real thing. To you.

There’s something different in his gaze tonight, a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch. He shifts beside you, setting the bottle aside as he turns to face you more fully. “Come here,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Your eyes lock with his, and for a moment, you hesitate. But the pull between you is irresistible, a magnetic force that’s seemingly always been there, drawing you together. You move over, straddling his lap as his hands find their way to your back, sliding down to your ass, pulling you in until every inch of you is pressed against him.

His touch is familiar, but tonight it feels different—deliberate, meaningful, loaded with intent.

He inhales deeply, his nose tracing the delicate line of your neck, his beard tickling you, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but sigh softly, your hips moving instinctively against him, seeking relief from the growing heat pooling low in your belly. The hardness of his erection pressing against you only intensifies the need building inside you, the ache that demands to be satisfied.

Nathan’s hands roam your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with a touch that’s both soothing and electrifying. When his lips find yours, the kiss is soft at first, tentative, but the hesitation doesn’t last long. The kiss deepens quickly, becoming more insistent, more demanding, making your head spin.

You’re both growing impatient quickly, the need for each other driving you to the brink. Hips bucking, teeth biting, lips sucking—you’re lost in the all-consuming sensation that is Nathan, in the desperate hunger that consumes you both. 

He grips the fabric of your shirt and pushes it up over your breasts, leaning in immediately to suck on your nipples, teasing, flicking, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, while his hands knead your flesh, pinching, groping, biting with a fervor that sends jolts of intense pleasure coursing through you. 

Unable to hold back any longer, he releases your breast with a wet pop, his breath ragged as he crashes his lips against yours again in a desperate, heated kiss. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you so close that there’s no space left between you, his need for you palpable. He holds you as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, as if letting go isn’t an option.

One hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as he deepens the kiss, while the other hand is splayed across your back, pressing you tighter against him. Every moan that escapes your lips is met with a hungry response, as if your sounds are the only thing anchoring him in this moment, the only thing that matters.

You’re close, so close, but it’s not enough. Nathan wants more—needs more. He wants to have you, feel you, own you, swallow you whole. He wants to lose himself in you, to find solace in the way your bodies fit together, to forget everything else in the world except for the way you make him feel.

You feel the same, more than ready for him to fuck your brains out and make it all right. But as much as you want him, need him, you can’t ignore the way your lungs are burning for air. Unlike the perfect creations in his lab, you do need to breathe. 

You pull back slightly, your lips parting from his as you gasp for air. But when you look into Nathan’s eyes, you’re struck by what you see there—something you’ve never seen before, something that reaches out and wraps around your heart, squeezing it in a way that almost hurts.

Something you’re not sure either of you are ready to face.

“I’m, uh...I’m tired,” you mumble, breaking eye contact as you clumsily slide off his lap and tug your shirt down, the movement awkward and hurried. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, and your hands tremble slightly as you adjust your clothes, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I’m going to bed.”

Nathan lets out a deep sigh, his hands falling to his sides as he watches you retreat, the space between you growing with every step you take.

There’s a sense of resignation in his posture, a silent acknowledgment that the moment, whatever it was, is slipping away. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, as if trying to wipe away what just happened, as if trying to regain the control that he’s always prided himself on.

He reaches for his beer bottle on the table, lifting it to his lips and taking a long, slow swig. The familiar taste does little to ease the frustration gnawing at him, but it gives his hands something to do, a way to distract himself from the thoughts spinning in his mind and the persistent throb of his painfully hard cock twitching in his pants.

As he sets the bottle back down with a muted clink, movement catches the corner of his eye. Kyoko appears, her presence as silent and seamless as ever, slipping into the room like a shadow. She moves with that same fluid grace, her expression blank, her purpose clear. Nathan’s eyes flicker to her, and for a moment, his gaze lingers, examining the beautiful android.

Nathan doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to.

As you fumble with your key card, hands trembling slightly, you manage to swipe it through the reader and push the door open to the hallway. But something tugs at you, a nagging curiosity or perhaps a sense of masochism that makes you pause. You glance back over your shoulder, hesitating just long enough to let that impulse take hold. Quietly, you turn and peer around the corner.

Kyoko kneels between Nathan’s spread legs, her movements fluid and precise. Her head dips lower, and Nathan’s hands tighten on the edge of the couch, his knuckles white. His head falls back against the cushion, his eyes closing as a groan slips from his lips—low, guttural, filled with a raw need that makes your stomach twist and your clit twitch.

The heavy door hisses shut behind you as you step into the hallway, but the noise doesn’t drown out the scene you’ve just witnessed. You walk, move away from the door, but halfway to your room, you hear it—his voice, needy and rough, reverberating through the corridor.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

The words are drawn out, dripping with a mix of pleasure and arrogance. You can almost see the smirk on his lips, feel the way his eyes might flicker with satisfaction, knowing full well you can hear him. He’s doing it on purpose, pushing your buttons with calculated precision, reveling in the power it gives him—the sense that he’s back in control.

It’s only when you’re finally under the covers, staring up at the ceiling in the stillness of your room, that you allow yourself to process what just happened. The events replay in your mind, sharp and vivid, but the more you think about it, the more surreal it seems. 

Maybe you were just imagining things. What you thought you saw in his eyes…it can’t have been real. It’s easier to dismiss it, to chalk it up to your own wishful thinking rather than confront the complexity of what it might mean.

You know Nathan too well. He gets needy when he’s loaded, it’s a pattern you’ve seen countless times before.

Sometimes that neediness manifests in long, rambling monologues about the futility of human existence and the inevitability of death, his voice heavy with cynicism and a touch of despair. Other times, it manifests in something more primal, a desperate hunger for a body to fuck, a way to drown out the noise in his head, and someone to make him feel like he’s still doing something right in a world he so often views as chaotic and meaningless.

Tonight was no different, was it? Just another of his drunken nights where he needs to either pour out his soul or lose himself in the physical, grasping at anything—or anyone—to stave off the emptiness that gnaws at him when he’s left alone with his thoughts.

The idea of it being anything more feels almost ridiculous.

You wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee sitting on your nightstand and the sight of Cinnamon, clean and dry, resting beside you on the bed. You blink, still groggy, as you reach out to touch him, half expecting it to be a dream. But he’s real, his fur soft under your fingers, the stains gone as if they were never there.

You sit up and scan him carefully, trace the little scratches on his eyes, examine the stitches on his ear, and determine that this is in fact him. You smell him, but can’t detect any detergent or other substance that Nathan could have used to clean him. 

You decide no to ask him how he did it.

A smile tugs at your lips, a warmth blooming in your chest as you hold the plushie close. Nathan actually did it. He took care of him, just like he promised. For you.

Sliding out of bed, you grab the coffee from the nightstand and head to the bathroom, savoring the warmth of the cup in your hands. As you take a sip, you’re surprised to find that it tastes better, smoother. You pause, raising an eyebrow. Did he really switch the beans? Must’ve hit a nerve when you complained about them last night. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror and sigh. The past few days have taken a toll, and it shows. Dark circles, dry skin—definitely time to stop moping and do something about it. You take another sip of the coffee, the rich, new flavor lingering pleasantly on your tongue, and as you lower the cup, something catches your eye.

Sticking to the bottom of the cup is a small, folded post-it note. You pluck it off, unfolding it with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

good as new, no need to murder me in my sleep

also, his name should be Cinnabun

he’s a bunny

You smile to yourself, carefully stick the note on the inside of your mirror cabinet, and take a moment to make yourself look halfway presentable before heading to the kitchen.

Nathan isn’t there, but the used blender and the bandages lying next to the punching bag on the deck tell you he’s already been up and about. You think of what you’re going to say to him on your way to the lab.

When you enter, you find him leaning against a glass table, a disgustingly healthy green smoothie in hand as he reads something on his tablet. He doesn’t look up when you enter, but you know he’s aware of you.

“Morning,” you say, your voice soft, tentative.

“Morning,” he replies, not looking up from the screen.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally, you settle on the simplest thing, the thing that’s been on your mind since you woke up.

“Thank you, Nathan. He looks great.”

Nathan finally looks up, his gaze meeting yours. He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, though you catch the slightest tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his tone casual, like it’s nothing at all.

But it is something. It’s everything, really, and you can’t hold back anymore. Before you can think better of it, you close the distance between you and wrap your arms around him in a tight, impulsive hug. It’s most definitely not what you planned on doing, not at all, but it feels right.

Nathan stiffens at first, clearly not expecting the gesture, but then he puts down the smoothie and tablet, and his arms come up to return the embrace, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. It’s strange, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat against you like this, but it’s also comforting in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

You stay like that for a moment, neither of you saying anything, just holding onto each other. When you finally pull back, Nathan’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes your heart ache. You want to say something, but the words don’t come.

Instead, it’s Nathan who breaks the silence. “You wanna see something cool?”

You smile at him, nodding. “Sure.”

He leads you over to another table where he’s been working on Lana’s thigh muscles. The intricate work is laid out in front of you, a testament to the hours he’s poured into perfecting every detail. He points to a small, precise incision. “You see this cut? It was a centimeter deep. Now look at it.”

You lean in, examining the area closely. The wound is almost completely healed, the synthetic tissue knitting itself back together seamlessly. “It’s almost healed. Incredible,” you say, marveling at the rapid regeneration.

Nathan observes your reaction with satisfaction, but there’s a slight furrow in his brow, a sign that he’s not completely pleased with his work. “It is. But I feel like I’m hitting a wall with these new polymers I’ve been testing.”

“Yeah?” You glance up at him, curious.

“Yeah,” he continues, his gaze shifting to you. “I’ve been meaning to get your input. See if you can spot something I’ve missed.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re stunned. The acknowledgment, the unexpected validation, it takes a second to sink in. Despite your best efforts, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. It’s small, but the warmth it brings spreads through you, impossible to hide.

All you manage is a quick nod before turning swiftly toward the disinfectant dispenser next to the door.

As you methodically disinfect your hands, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the warmth blooming inside you, and then pull on the nitrile gloves, you’re too focused on controlling your own emotions to notice the way Nathan’s eyes are fixed on you. His gaze lingers, taking in every small movement, every detail of your response.

His thoughts are a tangled mess, caught between admiration for your skill and the quiet way you’ve earned his respect, confusion at the intensity of his own feelings, and something dangerously close to longing.

Thank you for reading! Nathan Bateman Masterlist

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @pattwtf

[laboratory-for-peace]

HIHIIYA!! do you have any crack hcs, or serious hcs of the MADS members?

Oh man, I think I have a thousand little ideas for about every One Piece character I've spent 2 seconds thinking about, be it villains or not.

It's one of those cases where it's nothing concrete or big, and a lot of it verges on "character analysis" rather than headcanon, so I have a hard time listing specific things. But talking about all the big theory stuff or deep character analysis would probably be not what you're asking for + I'm not focused enough to do that right now, so let me think of some funny inconsequential stuff.

I don't know. Fuck. It's like I forgot every thought I've had about these science jerks. Idk. Caesar can't smell anything anymore due to all the toxic gas and chemicals burning his nostrils for years. Judge has severe back pain due to being 270-something cm tall and also in his 50s (and he deserves every second of it). Queen didn't loose his arm in an accident, he chopped it off on purpose to give himself a sick robot arm. All of them would have the most severe presbyopia right now were they not some of the few people on the Blue Planet with access to corrective eye surgery. Screw it, Stella didn't make the Satellites' consciousness via Brain-Brain fruit he was simply plural already, he just used the fruit to add a sense of concreteness to them and help with the android body inhabitation. Ms. Buckin' has a serious gambling addiction and got scammed by whatever the OP universe version of crypto is.

Joke headcanons aside.... let me think of more interesting stuff. Long post so it goes under the cut. You've been warned.

I''m fully convinced Queen made the Marys. Was that ever confirmed or touched upon? It's insane to me that canon never like, explained their existence. That makes total sense, right? Are all of them like, robots/artificial lifeforms, or are they cyborgs like Queen himself, and were once living beings? I think if he made them, either way, he has a funny uncle-niece relationship with Bao Huang. He's metaphorically giving her a gun and going "hell yeah go do crime little dudette". Also I like to think whoever the mother of his abandoned son was, was probably another member of the Beast Pirates. Also a big part of his rivalry with King definitely comes from the fact that King doesn't Trust Scientists after what happened in his childhood, and Queen knows that and tries to intentionally make him uneasy because he finds it entertaining.

I'm convinced of the "Caesar has some sheep/goat Mink ancestry" thing, it makes full sense. Even in a post-"horns in humans tend to signify Ancient Giant ancestry"-reveal world, I think the design of them looks too much like sheep/goat horns, rather than the more bovine design we've seen from everyone else. I know this is boring "everyone has this headcanon at this point" territory, but it just makes full sense to me. As a character in general, I think he's very easy to read, so I don't know if I have anything more unique to say about him. In my head, the reason he got hired at like, a very young age to join MADS, is because he gained a name for himself in the Underworld by doing some sort of horrific bio-terrorism type experiment that left a bunch of like, Marines dead or something, when he was a kid, and that put his name on Lu Feld's ears.

As for Judge, that piece of shit and his stupid little family have enough juice from being featured heavily in an entire arc that it's super easy to come up with a lot of things about them. I think for starters, his marriage with Sora was most likely arranged, mirroring WCI. It seems to be how royalty does things. I do wonder who Sora's family was before that, though, and how she ended up there.... Too many questions without answers until we get like an SBS or something. It'd be really poetic if she was from a royal East Blue family or something, considering Sanji ended up there... Also, I think that him being allowed to fuck off from whatever his royal duties might have been, at a very young age, and join MADS is interesting. So in my head, whoever the previous king / his father was, he was probably one of the funders of MADS. Both as a desire to invest in weapons for Germa, and to feel that he had a sense of control over whatever his (presumably only) son was doing. Also I think Judge and Queen had a Sanji vs Zoro type rivalry, obviously. He got called "twirly-brows" (derogatory) at LEAST once by him. I also like to think a lot of his horrific hypocrisy comes from a place of disgusting projection and insecurity. This man definitely grew up being a weak crybaby until his horrid ideology and pampered upbringing forced him out of it.

Ms. Buckingham is a VERY interesting one, because I feel like we already know a lot about her and also absolutely nothing. The Rocks Pirates are for sure a group we'll get more flashbacks on, eventually. Looking at the timeline, I like to think that after she saw her own clone (being the first ever successful human clone), she immediately started attempting to create Weevil. I like to think this was somehow her way of getting "revenge" on Newgate for "dumping her" or some petty motivation like that, on top of desiring his strength. That boy is a (not-so-successful) clone for sure. The Rocks Pirates had recently been dismantled at that point. I don't think it's a coincidence that Weevil is 35 and Stussy (clone) is 36 lol. It looks like she saw, she immediately tried to copy, she failed.

And for Stella.... now that's a man who's entire history we kind of already know of. There's so many good meta and analysis posts around Tumblr, even stuff I've written, so I'm not sure what to add. The plurality thing wasn't a joke. But other than that, I think that -to combine this with a Stussy (clone) headcanon, he was forced by the WG to hand her off as a Cipher Pol agent. 26 years ago, as an exchange for Not Getting Arrested and instead Being Hired by them. She would have been exactly 10 years old at the time (temporally; with her being a clone, we don't know what physical and mental age she would have been). He must have been raising her until that point, right? He was her creator. I think that the WG made a demand that she's taken as an agent, and like any father, I like to think Stella was reluctant to hand her over at first, but eventually decided it'd be safer for her too. He'd been Underworld so far, he was going to comply to most demands the WG made for him in order to keep his new position. But of course, seeing Stussy's faith to him in Egghead, she definitely kept contact with her father throughout the years, even while in Cipher Pol, even if it was in secret.

Those are my very cool MADS headcanons thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[simblorbo-bracket]

Round 1 - Simblr's Saddest, Wettest Meow Meow - Mainline

Geoffrey Landgraab (@fallstaticexit) VS. Steelie Buzzkill (@literallyjusthereformods)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

Who's sadder? Who's wetter? Read on for more information, and vote with your heart!

What is a ‘Meow Meow’?

(taken from tumblr user @/torturelabyrinth) “The thing about a true poor little meow meow is they have to be 1) downtrodden 2) morally questionable at best 3) deeply and pathetically miserable”

Geoffrey Langraab

What makes Geoffrey a Sad, Wet Meow Meow? What’s more pathetic: marrying the girl of your dreams just for her to turn you into the biggest cuck in the tristate area or slowly gaining consciousness but still pretending you don’t see it because what’s wrong with a little sobbing into your wine glass over your cheating wife’s affair? Geoffrey’s sweet, sensitive nature has paved way for him to be a meek, spineless fluff of a man that will stand outside on the front porch with bated breath for the return of his wife after she plows yet another woman into the mattress under the guise of running a multimillion dollar company (it’s both).

This is the same man who look his own sons in the eyes and know they deserve better but will quietly beg for it from across the room because communication is scary when your wife has walls as thick as the mascara that runs down your face. And just when you start to have an ounce of faith; you’re reminded this is the man who saw with his own four eyes actual hickies on the inside of his wife thighs and chooses to do- well. NOTHING. 😀 Because if you never acknowledge your cheating wife’s passionate affair, did it actually happen? 😏

Steelie Buzzkill

Nothing better says it than the last name Buzzkill. He just cannot contain his moodiness to himself. From his lackluster customer service composed of primarily a deadpan voice and a dead-eyed stare, to his need to glare at his coworkers when they're goofing off, this guy cannot give anybody a break.

Things Steelie hates about life:

Life doesn't seem so lustrous when one of your earliest memories of the open world was being frantically tossed out of a the back of a transport truck in a wave of silicon bodies. Steelie was brought into the world as an incarnate: a commissioned android designed to match a character provided by a client.

The law banning ownership of androids using the Mimic AI Model went into action during Steelie's transport. He and his fellow incarnates were hastily dumped on the side of the road and left behind. After shaken foot-travel, he located a tiny rural town, where he began trying to make this life of his work.

He's an employee at the local IHopTopic, a dusty relic of a very old and very unsuccessful partnership deal between companies IHop and Hot Topic. The job serves well enough for a dead-end job in a dead-end life.

Steelie is very uninterested in learning who commissioned him and who he is supposed to be. He chose his own name, and since his transport ended before he went through the personality and memory programming phase, has no idea what he was meant to be called. Only that he was definitely made in the image of some sort of anime. When Steelie stocks shelves, he just hopes from the bottom of his heart he doesn't find anything that looks like him.

Extra: He wants to change his hair, but it is made of a special silicon, which is expensive as hell to get redone. So he can't afford it.

His ears came pre-pierced. He just just purchased some cheap rings for them.

[the-lark-ascending69]

I loove the android robin au it's really one of the most interesting au I have seen in a while.

I am always happy to see new post abt it

Also making my favourite characters go through hell and then receiving comfort from their people is like the best thing ever for me so every time I see a whump!Robin post I like automatically

People loving android!Robin makes me so happy anansnssndsnsns she's curious and excitable and full of wonder and the world keeps punishing her for simply being alive. Sometimes it's too painful even for me, big whump lover 😭😭 though seriously, there is not enough Robin whump, and while all the characters in the show are very whumpeable, hurting my little blorbo Robin feels special because... she's just so deeply lonely. She's lonely and she thinks she deserves to be because of something wrong with her (pulling this interpretation from Surviving Hawkins lore which is canon to me 😭). That was a big idea I had when I first came up with android!Robin... that there is something wrong with her. Broken. In this AU she's literally broken in a lot of way (battery and memory problems, weak joints in her lower half, etc), but that's all within the range of normal robot problems. The real issue with her is that she's sentient. It terrifies people because it really brings out the existencial horror of... well, existing. It terrifies Robin most of all. She is the problem. She is what's wrong with her. She shouldn't exist.

But at the same time, she loves being alive so much! She doesn't understand it and doesn't know how it happened, but it happened, and now she's real and wants to experience life and the world and know people like human beings do. So it's her constant battle to become human despite humans having hurt her so much in the past... only for Nancy to already see her as human. Just one made of metal and plastic, but human nonetheless. She's the first person to see her that way and maybe everyone else thinks she's crazy, but Nancy is used to that. She's so sure of this, though, of Robin's self-awareness. She trusts her so blindly. She doesn't even need proof. And not only does she believe her, but she defends her humanity in front of her friends and family so ardently, fighting so hard for Robin to be aknowledged by everyone else as human. Fighting so hard to give her a home and family for the first time in her life.

Nancy has it bad for Robin, really. She's just so in love, even if everyone else thinks she's crazy for falling in love with a machine (no one thinks she is, though, because they all know Robin, and once you know Robin, it's impossible not to love her).

[enkisstories]

The mood was tense in the Reed apartment after Chloe's arrest.

Gavin: "Poe's about to come home any minute... I better keep the armor on."

Jim: "Shitting your pants, are you, junior? Can't say you don't deserve it. Knowingly arresting an innocent is bad enough, but your future sister-in-law? What the hell did I do wrong in raising you?!"

Gavin: "Do you mean when you lost your sperm donor certification by making a baby with mom, when you made out with her in front of the retail customers while wearing the latest collection and lost that job, too, along with our flat, or when you got yourself arrested for "spice" running and were out of my life for years, thank you very much?!"

Gavin: "H... Hi, Poe! How was work? Rose can be a real old sweat, huh?"

Poe: "Now you dare bring ROSE into this?!"

Poe: "Why is Chloe not here? You have the cell keys, you have the wits to distract your co-workers and you have the money to pay bail, you could easily have..."

Gavin: "No bail for androids. This isn't Lost & Found."

Gavin: "And especially not after your plastic-sister deleted and overwrote her whole memory. As evidence she's useless now."

Poe: "Chloe did WHAT? No... no, that can't..."

Jim: "To protect you, no doubt. But at what cost! What the fuck..."

Gavin: "Doesn't matter. I know who is part of the "Underground Railroad" and where you all live. How about a Thank You for keeping all of this to myself?"

Poe: "I don't thank you for not shitting on the floor, either! Keeping the Railroad secret is basic human decency!"

Gavin: "Your android sabotaged my case, Poe. What else than use my own knowledge should I do?"

Jim: "Maybe refrain from that. If the Railroad goes down, you go down along with it. After all, you were taken into confidence something like three years ago already!"

Gavin: "Oh, right. And if I go to prison, who pays your rent..."

Jim: "Yes, I admit that making that baby was a mistake!!!"

Poe: Ooops. Looks like someone needs a new flat again after having said that. I'll ask dad to bring out the collapsable guest beds.

[blookmallow]

my feelings about fo4 romances thus far

ive done all of them except piper and danse i think. i have both planned but haven't achieved them yet. i know one major thing about danse's development but have no idea what happens after the discovery of the thing comes out and have even less idea why so many people are into him so I'm hoping I will Learn

currently i feel like im just being followed around by a domineering buzz lightyear. he's... nice enough if you do things he likes...? he's supportive. but I have yet to get any personality out of him other than "soldier" and I'm guessing that's probably the point, so maybe there's a side of him I haven't seen yet. i really want him to get the hell out of the power armor though it is so unnerving having him stomping after me in the middle of diamond city. like. boy calm down for one minute we are going shopping. if he stays in the fucking power armor for his "waking up beside you" animation i am going to actually lose it

anyway i dont have a problem with piper (except i hate that she calls you "blue" i really feel like most of my SS's would be offended by that. you're nicknaming me after the vault i was lied to and controlled in. where i was frozen against my will and forced to watch my spouse die in front of me and my son be taken away. it's not cute! ) i just hadn't gotten around to her bc i hadn't figured out a character to make sense with her yet/it didn't feel natural but i think im gonna double her with my preston file. i have like 6 ocs going here dont ask (ive got uhh. my main is curie + hancock, then i have one for maccready, another one with hancock, one with preston + eventually piper, one with cait + gage, one intended for danse)

ive romanced hancock twice and had to talk myself out of doing it again on a third file. this man is my weakness. i would do anything for him. his romance lines are so sweet he makes me cry. perfect. no notes. the way he's threatening and dangerous but only when someone deserves it, and so soft and loving to you? rough and a lil bit fucked up, a lil bit nasty, but so calm and comforting and supportive to you? kills me. destroys me. my comfort character is a fucked up chem addicted radioactive ghoul who wears a 500 year old coat every single day of his life and might've lost a toe somewhere

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

cait's honestly feels so weird to me. it's like her personality just totally changes. she goes from being rough and sarcastic to "anything for you my treasure :) my heart is yours my beloved :)" and it doesn't feel like character development so much as just like. character flattening. it was actively putting me off spending time with her anymore. its like its not her. do you get me. does anyone feel this. i havent seen anyone talking about cait that much honestly so i have no idea

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

curie was my first love and i still cannot believe they gave us a miss nanny robot wife. i wish she was more android after the change though. i know human-passing synths are totally indistinguishable but i want her to be weirder. i want curie with glowing eyes. i want to see circuits on her arms instead of veins. anyway she is so so sweet and such a unique character i love her but also i do not understand her bc i was looking at her likes/dislikes and she apparently likes the brotherhood and doesn't like the railroad which does Not Make Sense To Me At All. girl you're a synth

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

i never really got why people are so into porter gage until i went through his romance and he's still not really my type but like, i get it now. the "man don't make me talk about feelings and shyit. we're... we're great! you know THAT. :/ " is so cute. i wish there was a redemption arc/reformed raider option for him because i feel like he had potential for growth that he just wasn't allowed to realize. underdeveloped but he is a DLC character so i guess that's how it goes

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

maccready is also kinda dangerously close to "personality changed completely when romanced" but it feels at least less jarring than cait's. maccready reads to me as a person who is actually quite sentimental and sweet but has become jaded/has to act tough to fit in/to protect himself and he's taking his walls down for you. he's another one that still isn't really my type but i Get It Now. his little toy soldier thing still gets me every time. speaking my exact love language of "here is a little thing that is important to me and i want you to have it and think of me." i respect maccready enjoyers

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

i haven't spent a lot of time on the file i romanced preston on but i was fully not prepared for the fact that he calls you "babe" once you're dating. it's so cute. preston is so cute. i don't have a lot else to say other than he is So Cute and deserves more attention than he gets.

@ bethesda give me nick valentine

[aloudplace]

Dirty thoughts 10

I might have been wrong about the forgiveness thing.

When they took us back to Stark Tower and Loki told them about Thanos, Thor's face went a shocking shade of red.

He grabbed Loki by the front of his shirt and punched him–-hard.

Loki stumbled back against the broad windows of the conference room, blood trickling from his nose, and said calmly, "I suppose I deserved that."

"That's the least of what you deserve, you traitorous little-–!" Thor advanced on him aggressively, fury evident in every line of his body.

Heart in my throat, I opened my mouth to stop him-–but Stark beat me to it.

"Alright, Point Break, let him be."

Thor spun, mouth open, radiating sheer outrage-–and hurt, I realized. "Six months, Stark! Six months he's been sitting on this, waiting to stab us in the back!" He turned back to Loki and snarled, "I should have left you to rot in that cell!"

Loki smiled, tight-lipped and humorless. "The end would have been the same, Brother."

"What end is that?" Romanoff spoke from her chair at the end of the long table where she sat between Stark and Banner. The Tesseract was on the table in front of them: a glowing, translucent blue cube. Loki had produced it from thin air, just like the pot of salve and his own clothing.

The God of Mischief straightened from the window, wiping the blood from his face. "Thanos is coming and there's not a damned thing you can do to stop him."

"I want to know why," Thor demanded. "Why would you hide this, Loki? What do you stand to gain? Will Earth be yours when Thanos is done with it? Do you still thirst for rule over the humans, even now?"

Loki opened his mouth–probably to say something snarky and unhelpful.

"Let's not give up before we've even started," Stark interrupted calmly. "I'm not just going to hand my world over to this Thanos guy without a fight."

Thor made a growling sound and stalked away from his brother to stand at the other end of the conference table, broad arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"He's right," said Romanoff. "We beat his Chitauri army once. We can do it again."

Loki laughed softly. "The Chitauri were childsplay compared to what Thanos will bring down on you now."

"You said he wants the Tesseract and the Mind Stone," said Banner, leaning forward in his chair. "What does he plan to do with them?"

"Destroy half of all life in the universe," Loki answered flatly.

"Half of all life-–!" Banner's eyes bulged. "Why the hell would he want to do that?

"Does it matter?" Stark stood up and paced around the table toward Loki. "You can tell us what to expect. What's this guy's M.O.? He's got to have a weakness."

"He's a madman," Loki grated. "But he doesn't have any weaknesses that I know of."

"Everybody's got a weakness," said Romanoff.

I watched Loki shake his head from my seat at the opposite and of the table from the Avengers. "He's been playing the planetary domination game for longer than any of us have been alive. Playing, and winning." He glanced at me, green eyes pale and angry. "Earth will be no challenge."

"We have the Tesseract," said Stark. "And Vision. Not to mention Wanda and the rest of us. That's two of these–what did you call them?"

"Infinity Stones," said Loki.

"Right. So we have two Infinity Stones and a collection of some of the most powerful people in the universe. In other words, we have resources," Stark turned to look at Banner. "We've worked with the stones before. We can do it again."

"Don't be a fool, Stark," Thor grated angrily. "You remember what happened when you tried to use the mind stone. Humans are not equipped to wield such power."

"I remember creating the most advanced and innovative android known to man," Stark snapped.

"Yes, and your arrogance nearly resulted in Earth's complete destruction," Thor shot back.

"Boys, boys," Romanoff interjected. "Let's focus on the issue at hand."

"I think we should call Steve," said Banner. "In fact, we should call everybody in. Vision, Wanda. This is an all hands on deck situation. Does anybody know how to find Fury?"

Tony's face creased with disdain. "You know damn well the Cap' and I aren't on speaking terms."

"I think, under the circumstances, it might be reasonable for you to set aside your personal issues just this once," said Natasha flatly. "We need all the help we can get."

"She's right," said Banner. And then to Loki, "How much time do we have?"

"No idea," Loki replied heavily. He'd come closer to the table when I wasn't looking and stood just behind my chair. His aura crackled with anxiety. I wanted to touch him-–just as much to comfort myself as him. This whole Thanos thing had finally become real and I was beginning to feel panicked, nauseous.

"Fine," Stark grated. "Call him, Nat. Fury, too."

Romanoff nodded and rose, pulling out her cell. She paused at the door and turned back when Banner said, "What about Loki?"

Everyone looked at the God of Mischief.

"I say we put him back in his cell," said Thor darkly. "Where he can't put a knife in anybody's back."

I could feel Loki's anger. I didn't need to see his face to know he was giving his brother a look of pure contempt.

"He can't help you from a prison cell," I said quietly.

It was the first time I'd spoken since we'd come into the conference room. Five sets of eyes turned to me.

Romanoff said, "I think it's pretty damned clear we can't trust him." She slid Stark a meaningful look. "I don't know why you ever bothered to give him a chance in the first place."

Her contempt was palpable, even without telepathy.

Banner said, "He did tell us the truth," and then, in response to Romanoff's withering look, "He has a vested interest in our success. He's got just as much to lose as the rest of us."

"You think he won't jump ship at the first possible opportunity?" Romanoff demanded. "What do you think he's been waiting for all this time?"

"He planned to give Thanos the Tesseract to save his own skin," Thor added darkly. "He's only being honest now because it's his best chance of survival."

Loki's emotions spiraled toward rage. He was standing directly beside my chair now. I couldn't stop myself–-I reached up and curled my fingers around his wrist. The rage faltered a bit, tempered by a little trickle of pleasure. I'd suspected he was standing so close because I was his only real ally in the room; I was surprised to find that he'd read the anxiety in my posture and come closer just to comfort me. The fact that I'd touched him in front of everyone gave him great satisfaction–-and not just because I'd apparently accepted his attempt at comfort. It was the first time I'd given any outward indication of our relationship.

"Doesn't that mean it's in his best interest to help us, now that we have the Tesseract?" Banner was saying. "I mean, I'm not suggesting we should give him a clean slate, but it can't hurt to have another God fighting for team Earth, right?"

Natasha was looking at me with narrowed eyes. She was especially good at hiding her thoughts–-almost as good as Loki–-but her feelings about my budding relationship with the God of Mischief were quite clear.

"He's an egomaniacal killer," she grated.

I spoke without thinking. "How many people have you killed, Nat?"

The look she gave me was a surprise: gaze hooded, resentful and slightly amused at the same time. Touche.

Stark had been strangely silent through all this, standing halfway between our end of the table and the rest of the Avengers, arms crossed, expression calculating.

"And what do you think, Bella?" he asked quietly. "Is Reindeer Games on the level?"

Loki bristled and then withdrew from me psychically, giving me a blank, emotionless wall.

I glanced up at him, but he was looking at Stark, expression cool. His wrist flexed subtly under my fingers. I tightened my grip on him.

"I think you shouldn't give him access to any ships that could take him off the planet," I said carefully.

Stark smiled at my honesty. Thor gave a bitter little grunt. Natasha said, "See?" Banner just looked confused.

Loki gave me a trickle of grim amusement. He wasn't angry. That was a relief.

"Why are you sleeping with him if you know what a snake he is?" said Natasha, voice dripping disdain.

"I'm wasn't finished," I said, ignoring her jab. "He'll help us. Just like Bruce said; it's in his best interest." I didn't tell them that Loki cared about Earth. They wouldn't believe me, and Loki would probably deny it anyway.

But there was something else they needed to know–-something I hoped would change their minds. I looked up at Loki. "Tell them what Thanos would do if you gave him the Tesseract."

His gaze slid down to me, narrowed with suspicion. "You mean besides use it to destroy half the universe?"

I didn't even bother to nod. He knew exactly what I was asking.

He glared down at me for the length of a few breaths, and then finally he said, "He'd kill me," and then he looked at his brother with all the rage and resentment of a thousand years of scorn and rejection.

Thor's expression faltered, anger giving way to confusion, disbelief.

"He'd kill you even if you gave it to him?" Banner asked in surprise.

Loki gave the graying scientist a mocking look. "I had one chance to bring him the Tesseract, and I failed," he drawled. "Thanos rewards failure with death."

"So then why did you take it, Brother?" Thor demanded softly. "Why have you kept it secret all this time? Did you intend to use it yourself?"

There was a long, heavy silence, all eyes on Loki. I squeezed his wrist and he twisted it in my grip, taking hold of my hand as though to quell me.

He was tense, anxious. Resentful that I had put him on the spot and... resigned, too.

Finally, in low and angry voice, he said, "I thought to keep it from him."

And then he stood there stiffly, holding my hand, braced for their judgment–-for their rejection.

"Bullshit," Natasha said immediately.

But Thor didn't look so sure. Neither did Stark. Banner glanced at Thor as though to judge his reaction.

"Why didn't you let Syrtyr destroy it with Asgard, then?" Thor asked, almost pleading, anger gone now.

"Do you really think it's that easy to destroy an infinity stone, brother?" Loki replied stiffly.

Thor stared back at him, nonplussed.

"Is he telling the truth, Bella?" Stark asked.

Loki's grip on my hand tightened involuntarily. He knew what my answer would be. I swallowed hard.

"I can't say for sure," I replied quietly. "He can lie very convincingly, even to me. But I believe so." I realized as I said it just how true it was. I trusted Loki.

Stark's dark gaze was steady, grave. "Why? What makes you believe it?"

Everyone in the room was on pins and needles waiting to hear my answer, including Loki.

"Because he never actually told me," I answered quietly. "I figured it out myself."

"That's it?" Natasha said scornfully.

I curled my fingers against Loki's palm. "He tried to hide it from me." I glanced up at him again but his gaze slid away. I felt like I was laying him bare to them. It wasn't a good feeling. "He'd rather we all think him the villain."

Natasha looked skeptical and Banner was frowning, but Thor's disbelief had begun to crumble around the edges. He knew his brother better than the others.

"Why?" Natasha demanded.

I opened my mouth to respond but Loki beat me to it.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint you all," he sneered.

The words rang with truth, despite the venom. Loki had given up on being 'good'–-or at least on anybody believing him capable of goodness. It gave him a bitter sort of satisfaction to live up to their negative expectations.

But I understood that he'd secretly been waiting for someone to see through the facade. It wasn't even that hard if you just paid attention.

Natasha was giving him a stunned look. Banner, too.

Stark's face was carefully blank. He was waiting for something.

"He meant to escape," I murmured, heart beating fast, "But not just to save his own skin. To keep the Tesseract away from Thanos."

"Loki," Thor said softly, "What say you, brother? Does she speak the truth?"

Loki was very still beside me. I looked up at him–his face was closed, wary, jaw clenched.

The God of Thunder came slowly across the room, his one eye gleaming with emotion. "Have I misjudged you again, brother?" he asked in that same quiet voice. There was guilt in it-–regret.

Hope.

"Answer me, Loki. Did I misjudge you?"

Loki swallowed, releasing my hand. His fingers slid along my shoulder and snuck into the hair at my tape. It was an absent gesture; this time he was seeking comfort, if unconsciously.

Finally, he answered in a low, leaden voice, "You always have, Brother."

.....................................

I couldn't believe it. After six months of locked doors, security cameras, psychic supervision and bottomless suspicion, Loki was officially an Avenger.

I mean, nobody actually said the words, but at some point, they all just sat down at the big conference table and started planning. Loki was at the center of the discussion, fielding questions about Thanos and his forces, making brilliant strategic suggestions, and generally behaving like he'd never been at odds with them at all.

Well, except for his usual sarcasm and the occasional snarky exchange with Nat.

After a couple hours Stark called for takeout and everybody got up for a coffee and bathroom break.

Loki turned to me as the others were leaving and said in a low voice, "You don't need to stay, Bella. I'll call someone to take you to my rooms."

"I know where your rooms are," I said. I wanted to stay, though. Not because they needed me–-they didn't–-but because I was still anxious and the idea of being alone with my thoughts was extremely unattractive.

Loki shook his head. "I've got rooms in New Asgard now. They've already moved all my things."

"Since when?" I asked, surprised. 'New Asgard' was a series of buildings on the Stark compound where the Asgardian refugees had been placed.

"Yesterday," He smiled. "The accommodations are a vast improvement over the little closet where Stark kept me. I'm sure you'll find them comfortable."

I hesitated. I was tired. Utterly drained, in fact.

Loki misread my hesitation. "Would you prefer to return to your home?"

"No," I said quickly. "Well, I mean...I do need to feed my cat. And I didn't bring any clothes or toiletries."

His expression softened; he was pleased that I wanted to stay. Well, smug was probably a better descriptor. "I'm sure we can find someone to look after your cat. Everything else you need can be provided easily."

He didn't just want me to stay the night, I realized. He wanted me to stay. Indefinitely.

My heart did a little flip. "Loki..."

Later, he thought, in answer to my hesitancy. Then he pulled my chair around to face him and drew me in close, bending to kiss me lightly. I think he meant it to be a fleeting kiss, but I opened my mouth immediately and he gave me his tongue on a low groan, hands sliding up my legs, stroking my jean-clad thighs.

I'm not sure how long we kissed like that–-I was lost to it. When he finally pulled back, he touched my face, brushing his thumb very gently under my eye. "You need rest."

"Do I have dark circles?"

His mouth quirked. "I should have let you get more sleep last night."

"Good God, the two of you are just adorable." Stark's amused drawl brought both our heads around to the door.

Thor was standing just behind him, holding three boxes of pizza and wearing a slightly disconcerted expression.

"That was fast," I said, hoping my blush wasn't too obvious. Had they seen us kissing?

Stark grinned, "I have connections."

"Pizza connections?" I couldn't help smiling.

"Among others," he winked.

Beside me, Loki bristled. I glanced at him and his face was almost impassive, but he looked at Tony with narrowed eyes.

Jealous Loki was a revelation. He'd been jealous of Thor, too, at my house. I'd never found jealousy an attractive trait before, but from the God of Mischief, it was almost as good as a love letter.

Plus, I was looking forward to assuaging those jealous feelings.

Thor set the pizzas on the table and the smell wafted to me. Suddenly I was ravenous.

Banner and Natasha returned a moment later and the six of us ate together almost like friends. When I finally sat back in my chair–-belly full and feeling positively drowsy–-Loki asked Stark to send up an escort to take me to New Asgard.

Tony was the only one who didn't look surprised. Thor was positively floored.

They really were polar opposites, the two of them. Thor was an open book, utterly secure in himself, convinced of his own goodness.

He couldn't quite believe that Loki had become romantically involved with me–-a human. He wanted to be happy about it, but he was worried Loki would mistreat me.

But he was glad I would be in New Asgard because he would be able to keep an eye on me. I would be safe there, as well, in the coming battle.

That warmed me. The God of Thunder wasn't sure his brother could be trusted with my care, but he wanted to protect me for Loki's sake. It was a very brotherly emotion.

When the guard arrived to take me to New Asgard I stood, said goodbye to everyone, and then bent as though to say something in Loki's ear, making sure to angle my body so that the others couldn't see. I didn't say anything though-–I kissed his neck and had a little taste of his earlobe. His hand was on the armrest between us and I touched it lightly because I needed the contact. He turned his palm up and slid his fingers along the inside of my wrist, thinking about how silky the skin there was.

And then he thought about returning to his chambers later, finding me asleep in his bed, and waking me to make love.

I made myself straighten and then walked out very casually with Loki's pleasure and anticipation radiating through my body.

[wasdeviant]

this could be a mistake. shavonna knows that. there's always a risk, no matter the person that was being dealt with. she'd met deviants who were scared enough to hurt people - hell, she was one of them, herself. the feelings and emotions which come with breaking free from ones coding were a shock to the system, and shavonna couldn't blame those who had chosen fear and anger over kindness. the amount of androids shav has seen self destruct because of their stress levels was, frankly, too many, and she didn't want that to happen to any more of her kind. not if she could help it. there's a nod that's given to luther, shavonna glances around to make sure there was no one there to watch them, before she began waiting. still aware of her weapons, the escape routes surrounding them, always alert. she refused to ever be taken off guard, again.

she stands and waits, staring at the door until it opens and luther brings in a woman and a child, both androids, both deviants. despite being taken aback by the presence of alice, shavonna doesn't show the mild shock on her features, instead hesitantly nodding at the introductions that are given. kara and alice. these names are catalogued away. shavonna won't forget them. luther's either, not even when they're safely settled into jericho. she never forgets the names of any of her kind. they deserved to be remembered. 'shavonna,' eyes glance down to the little girl, who's hiding behind kara's hip, and shavonna smiles. minuscule, but there. comforting. when eyes move back up to kara's, to luther's, shavonna is back to her stoney stare, her features serious. 'the place i'm going to take you is called jericho. you might have heard of it. it's real,' her words are an assurance. even if shavonna can't quite believe in a future where androids are free, she still has some hope in the small gathering in the shipyard. 'we'll stay here until it gets completely dark, and then we'll move. and we'll have to be quick,' eyes move back to the girl, softening slightly. 'can you do that for me, alice?'

luther knows the choice to use the phrase mother and daughter might seem a bit odd. but once shavonna met kara and alice, he was sure she'd understand. there was just no other way to describe them. it was kara who raised alice, looked after her. kara who fed and clothed her, loved her the way a parent is supposed to. luther had interfaced with kara, seen what they were running away from. they'd gone out of the frying pan and into the fire with zlatko, of course, but luther was determined that they would soon see better skies. it seems like with shavonna, they might. 'yes,' he replies, 'they are. i didn't deviate until i met them.' he feels a swell of affection, protectiveness, and finally relief when he sees shavonna's expression relax–– even if only slightly. he nods. 'okay. i'll come right back.'

luther hurries outside quickly enough to be efficient without–– hopefully–– raising any suspicion. kara and alice are huddled together at a bus stop. 'kara,' luther says, voice hushed. 'i met someone–– shavonna. she says she can take us somewhere safe.' kara's eyes widen. 'shavonna? and she knows somewhere that'll be safe for alice?' luther nods. 'for all of us. i trust her.' he sees his companion's face set with determination. 'all right. let's go.' the moment she looks to alice, though her expression is all softness. 'come on alice,' she says gently. luther smiles down at the little girl. 'we have somewhere to go–– somewhere safe this time. i promise.' at that, kara shoots him a look of mild consternation, but she follows him inside nonetheless. alice sticks closely to kara's side as luther leads the way in. he takes her hand–– alice is quite shy with new people, and luther can hardly blame her, given all she's been through–– as kara steps forward to introduce herself. 'i'm kara,' she says, gesturing to the little girl, 'and this is alice. thank you for helping us.'

[soapofbar]

I said in my previous post related to RWBY that I stopped watching after Volume 8, because what happened to Penny and how she was treated throughout the volume was very, very distasteful to me. It's the biggest reason, although there are also a bunch of smaller reasons surrounding it. This is still true, I haven't watched V9 and I don't really plan to. I may, some day, out of curiosity/boredom, but I have somewhat been kept in the know even as I move onto other things due to still knowing people who are interested in RWBY, along with fandom talk and all that.

The main thing I want to talk about is the supposed message of V9, and how it relates back to Penny. More specifically, how it strikes as hypocritical and tone-deaf after everything that happened to her.

The core message of V9, as stated by Kerry on Twitter and pretty much blasted at the viewer in the volume's finale, is that you are enough, just the way you are. Ruby chooses to be herself rather than trying to emulate her mother/be the flawless leader/etc. and she's able to get back up and save the day. It's an alright message to send.

The problem: What about Penny?

Penny, in V2, expresses some self-doubt about an android. Feeling that she isn't as real as the actual flesh and blood humans around her, she's comforted by Ruby that she's just as much of a real girl as anyone else, and from then on she doesn't seem to express any discomfort about being a robot. She seems quite happy to be one, even, as she rebukes May for simply calling her "Robo-Girl" in V8E3

Then V8E12 comes around, and the text all but implies that Penny is a girl trapped in a robot body. Ambrosious expresses concern at what's left when he strips all the robot parts from her and Blake replies that there will be "Penny, the girl who's always been there underneath". Yang holds her metal arm and says that those pieces are just "extra". That being a robot doesn't define Penny and it's not who she is and the implication is that it's even holding her back. She's then turned into a real girl by Ambrosious. A thing, which, to my memory, she never asked to have happened to her.

Hell, the whole process is very similar to ascension in the Ever After, even. Penny's original body dies and in it's place is a new, "better" one.

The implication here is the opposite of what V9 is trying to say. That Penny isn't enough. That she's not "perfect just the way she is". The robot parts are just "extra" after all (they're not, and I will always hate that line with a fiery passion).

It's just...it feels so incredibly, incredibly jarring. Penny's arc in V8 was already incredibly bad, and full of ableism, and then we turn around and apply a message which COULD work for Penny and is probably even the one she should have had with her arc...and apply it to the conventionally-bodied protagonist who never had to struggle with her entire person-hood. Who never had to question if she was even a human being or not.

It's just all so frustrating. Penny deserved so much better.

[utmostzenith]

I love Dragonball as an anime and manga because Toriyama and Toyorato are dope as writers and drawers. However, there is something Dragonball is the worst at, and it's how they make use of female characters. Bulma married Vegeta and has always been searching for a boyfriend, so there is that. Chichi kind of the same thing except that she was a fighter, but that did not really stick around either.

Marron, a Don Juan but woman. There is nothing else to say about her.

Android 18 did not exactly have to become the girlfriend and wife of Krillin later on, but that had to happen, I suppose. But, what is a shame about her is that she also stopped fighting and likely never trained either. She did not suffer the consequences of not training because she is an android.

Then we have Videl which was the one character with the most potential to actually do something. Hell, I can say that if it was not for the thing that happened during the tournament in the Majin arc. She would have been able to surpass android 18 in skills and power. Worth mentioning that she was already stronger than Krillin after her training with Gohan.

I would have genuinely understood if she had stopped fighting and training because of what happened, but this is not even the case. After eating a senzu beans and definitely showing how strong her mental is, she was perfectly fine mentally after being almost killed by that nameless guy. I'm calling him nameless because I don't remember his name.

Oh, and also, Hercule is the strongest human who does not use ki. So, believe it or not, Videl has a lot of potential as a fighter even if her father was written into a complete joke. The girl was said to be stronger than him back then, which she was, she was even stronger than the strongest human with ki known as Krillin.

If she was not written as a housewife like the others, she could have actually made it in the tournament of power instead of someone like Tenshinhan, for an example. Because I can confidently say she would have been stronger than 18 in the tournament arc.

This misuse of female characters is why I really don't want to see Caulifla and Kale again in the manga and on screen. Toriyama doesn't know how to write women. He makes them with a lot of potential, but he does not do them the justice they deserve.

[simblorbo-bracket]

Round 1 - Simblr's Saddest, Wettest Meow Meow - Losers Bracket

Hadvar Hammersmith (@plasma-tree) VS. Steelie Buzzkill (@literallyjusthereformods)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

They may be down, but they're not out yet! Who deserves a shot at redemption, to prove that they, truly, are the saddest and wettest of meow meows despite all the odds?

What is a ‘Meow Meow’?

(taken from tumblr user @/torturelabyrinth) “The thing about a true poor little meow meow is they have to be 1) downtrodden 2) morally questionable at best 3) deeply and pathetically miserable”

Hadvar Hammersmith

What makes them a Sad, Wet Meow Meow? He's just a little guy. Just trying to get famous and enjoy his life. He's trying so hard. He's also terrified of his mother's disapproval so he avoided her for about a year. Also he tried to get rid of his Stan by telling her that he'd give her his number if she stopped showing up at his house. He gave her the number for a local hospital.

Hadvar is literally out here just trying to become a movie star. Sure, he's like. Kind of neurotic and definitely will end up biting people when he's overstimulated, but look at him :'( sad. Wet. Like a sopping plushie full of milk.

Steelie Buzzkill

Nothing better says it than the last name Buzzkill. He just cannot contain his moodiness to himself. From his lackluster customer service composed of primarily a deadpan voice and a dead-eyed stare, to his need to glare at his coworkers when they're goofing off, this guy cannot give anybody a break.

Things Steelie hates about life:

Life doesn't seem so lustrous when one of your earliest memories of the open world was being frantically tossed out of a the back of a transport truck in a wave of silicon bodies. Steelie was brought into the world as an incarnate: a commissioned android designed to match a character provided by a client.

The law banning ownership of androids using the Mimic AI Model went into action during Steelie's transport. He and his fellow incarnates were hastily dumped on the side of the road and left behind. After shaken foot-travel, he located a tiny rural town, where he began trying to make this life of his work.

He's an employee at the local IHopTopic, a dusty relic of a very old and very unsuccessful partnership deal between companies IHop and Hot Topic. The job serves well enough for a dead-end job in a dead-end life.

Steelie is very uninterested in learning who commissioned him and who he is supposed to be. He chose his own name, and since his transport ended before he went through the personality and memory programming phase, has no idea what he was meant to be called. Only that he was definitely made in the image of some sort of anime. When Steelie stocks shelves, he just hopes from the bottom of his heart he doesn't find anything that looks like him.

Extra: He wants to change his hair, but it is made of a special silicon, which is expensive as hell to get redone. So he can't afford it.

His ears came pre-pierced. He just just purchased some cheap rings for them.

[rk1kheadcanons]

Markus and Connor are secret dating b/c Connor doesn't wanna be out to the world yet. The Jericrew (-Connor) go drinking and Markus gets *drunk* and starts rambling about his boyf after he rebuffs an advance made by a lady at the bar super sappily, but no matter how hard the others press him, they just get "oh, his eyes are the color of warm chocolate..." answers as to who this boyf is

You would never know Markus was drunk.

He didn’t stutter or slur when he spoke, he didn’t sway or trip over his feet. He didn’t giggle goofily or speak overly loud. He was perfectly composed, as much the charismatic android sober as he was when he was intoxicated.

What he did do, however, was go on long monologues like a Shakespearian stage actor.

Which would be fine, if Markus’ favorite subject to wax poetic about wasn’t his mysterious boyfriend, whom he’d sworn not to reveal the identity of until they were ready. Which would also be fine, if that mysterious boyfriend wasn’t Connor, who was often sitting right next to him (and slowly but surely bluescreening his way into that big Windows XP wallpaper in the sky) as he sang and lathered compliment after compliment, steadily giving away clues that were so blatant that it was a miracle that no one had figured them out yet.

Markus never remembered what he’d done the next day, and whenever Connor mercilessly played back his memories, his poor lover was as embarrassed as he was apologetic. Connor could hardly begrudge him (frankly he didn’t know what sane person on this planet could ever begrudge Markus, but that was just Connor’s correct opinion). What could they even do about it? Should he demand Markus consciously control himself? It wasn’t like Connor was any better at it. Give the RK800 too many AMB’s (Adios Motherboards) and he would be on top of the nearest table and scream-singing his every professionally repressed emotion, regardless if it was a karaoke bar or not. Hence why he never imbibed more than he could handle when they were around their friends. The last thing he wanted to do was sloppily propose to Markus after a long and terrible rendition of K-Ci and JoJo.

And Connor wouldn’t dream of telling Markus to measure the contents of his drink like Connor did. Not when his breaks were so rare, and getting him to relax and let loose was like pulling teeth.

It was just in the cards that their big revelation as a couple would be in a random bar at 3AM, with Markus saying something along the lines of “my boyfriend’s name starts with a C and rhymes with Donner”, and Connor had made peace with that.

“Scarlet woman!” Markus cried, at some random bar at 3AM, surrounded by their drunken comrades. Ah, would this be the night? Connor thought, on the correct side of buzzed as he watched on from the table right next to them, a heady mix of dread and amusement running through his computer soul. “Jezebel! How d a r e you solicit my happily taken hand!”

The waitress, who looked like she regretted serving their table, let alone attempting to get the number from the happily taken hand, raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry,” she said peaceably and with the calm air of someone who dealt with drunks as a job choice, “just trying to shoot my shot, ya know?”

Markus nodded at her magnanimously, because he was a kind and forgiving man even as a drunken buffoon. “Fret not. I pardon you of this most heinous slight, for if you knew the one to own my heart, you would understand that no other could compare.”

“Sure thing dude,” she said goodnaturedly, packing up and replacing drinks around their tables expertly, and parting with a “have a good night Romeo.”

“But who can no other compare to? WHOMST??” asked North, throwing her torso onto the table and looking up at Markus pleadingly.

“We’ve ruled out Jerry #451, Claudia, Baris from accounting, and Jerry #36,” Simon rattled off. He was looking down at a napkin that he had scribbled the names of all of their potential suspects. “I’ve got it. It’s Baris.”

North rolled her eyes. “We already said it wasn’t Baris.”

“Ohhh. Right, right.” Simon nodded his head and continued to not cross off the names of the people they had decided against, as he had been doing all night.

“How about you describe them a little?” Josh put in, reasonable, and therefore slightly less wasted than everyone else. “Hair color? Height? Eyes? Something?”

“Nay, I must not speak thusly!” Markus declared, back of his hand over his forehead and everything. “For if I were to tread down that forbidden road, I would surely not be able to stop myself from breaking our sacred oath of secrecy!”

“Oh my goOOOOOOOd I hate this fucking oaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaath,” North threw her head back and cried to heavens, which, considering her positon, was probably going to be hell on her neck come morning. “Come on! Break your oath! Be like Thor and wield oathbreaker goddamnit!”

“You might be thinking of Stormbreaker,” Connor added, the need to try and reason with alcoholics apparently embedded in his programming.

North narrowed her eyes at him, or rather his torso, since her chin was very resolutely still resting on the table. “If you think I’m thinking right now then you are drunker than I am.”

Connor lifted his barely touched glass to her in a toast because how dare she be lucid enough to clap back so quickly. A well deserved rebuttal fucking cheers.

“Glasses!” Josh exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Do they wear glasses? That should narrow down some people.”

“That’s right! That’ll tell us if they’re an android or not. Androids don’t wear glasses! Our eyes are like...fucking...better and shit!”

“Unless….” Simon narrowed his eyes, pausing dramatically. “....they do.”

North gasped. Josh put his hands on either side of face, muttering; “holy fucking shit he’s right.”

Markus scoffed. “Their eyes do not hide behind paltry spectacles! His beautiful orbs, so soft and caring when his gaze lands upon my person, seeing into my very soul, are the warmest chocolate brown!”

‘Ah shit here we go,’ Connor thought, wishing not for the first time that he could just down his drink and join everyone else in blissful, idiotic cavorting. The soft, melodic piano and crooning words of All My Life playing over the speaker stayed his hand. Best not take any chances

“HE!” Simon burst out, tipping over in his chair. “He say he! Them is He!”

“Are we talkin’ Hershey’s or Dove?”

“Ghirardelli you fucking plebs!”

“Oi!” North banged her hand on the table so hard it left a handprint indented in the wood. It was one amongst many however, and not all of them left by their party. Such was the price for serving android drinks at a human bar - you either shelled out for sturdier furniture or the dents and chips became a charming aspect of your décor. “Don’t get spicy with us Sir Lancelot!”

“Apologies fair maiden,” Markus responded easily. He took her hand delicately and made a sweeping bow over it. “Alas, my passions got away from me.” He dropped her hand and whirled around, coat billowing with the movement and most assuredly by accident, placing both hands to his thirium pump. “Conjuring up the magnificent images that is the love of my life oft times sends my emotions into a tizzy! His hair; cloud like in my grasp as I run my fingers threw earthen chestnut tendrils - ”

‘Hhhhhhhhhhhhn so many adjectives Markus whyyyyyyyyyy,’ Connor wheezed internally. He didn’t bother trying to keep down his blush. Markus was nowhere near done laying on the compliments and he’d be subjecting himself to an endless loop of canceling the process. Besides, he could just blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the a a a a a alcohol - wait no. What!? WHAT. Connor looked down at his drink and saw, to his mounting horror, that the glass was emptier than it had been a few minutes ago. Goddamn his automated rest mode cycle for transforming into fidgeting whenever he was nervous! He resolutely pushed the glass out of his immediate reach.

Nines, who was quietly sitting next to him, hunched over and taking notes on his own napkin, snapped his head up to attention when the glass brushed against his arm. His younger brother was looking from Connor to Markus, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Markus carried on. Connor didn’t like that look at all. It was always a risk inviting Nines to their little outings, the only thing Connor could bank on was Nines passing out - as his dear little bro was a notorious light weight - before his deductive skills could pierce through his drunken haze. Apparently Nines had chosen tonight of all nights, where Markus had never been more obvious about their relationship, to bloody pace himself.

If he could, Connor would be sweating bullets.

“ - a wit SO SHARP!!” Markus declared, foot now planted on his chair and shaking his fist to the ceiling as if it had insulted one of Carl’s paintings, “that neither an UNDEAD HOARD nor a POLITICIAN’S EGO could survive it’s precision strike!!”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, banger body, smarty pants, good at analyzing shit, likes animals” North listed off, holding a hand up and ticking a finger down. “Well that rules out all the Jerrys; they’re all redheads and they’re pretty aggressive about it - except for Jerry #86. Is your man-squeeze Jerry #86?”

“No no no last I heard Jerry #86 is dating Hatsume Miku’s bodyguard; Android Lucy Lawless.” said Simon.

“Tch. Lucky,” pouted North.

“Oh wow, she really kept that name huh?” Josh said, voice faint with wonder and disbelief. “That’s such a mouthful.”

“And who are you to question a Queen!?” snapped North.

“Huzzah and many blessings to the fortuitous couple!” Markus cheered, toasting a stein of frothy blue intoxication that looked as cartoonish as it did poisonous to the sky, knocking it back in several impressive gulps and slamming it back on the table. “BUT NEITHER OF THEM CAN COMPARE TO THE BEAUTY AND GRACE THAT IS MY LOVE!!” he boomed, louder and more British by the second. “WHO’S CURIOSITY AND INTELLECT A CHERISHED BOON TO I, BUT A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION TO HIS ENEMIES - !”

North slapped her hand on the table several times, the proverbial light bulb lighting up in her eyes - oh. No not proverbial. There was currently little lightbulb emojis pictured in her pupils. Yet another drunken download added to the bill. Connor was glad he’d drawn the long straw on ‘irresponsible buying duty’ tonight. No doubt there would be a lot of strange receipts to sort through in the morning. “Oh! I know I know! It’s Josh!”

So startled by this declaration/accusation, Josh jumped in his seat. “What!?”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, hot, obnoxious, smart - everything FITS!”

“...he didn’t say obnoxious,” Josh muttered, then physically shook sanity back into himself. “It can’t be me. I think I’d know if I was dating Markus!”

Simon leaned in closer towards Josh, arm on the table, determination in his mien. “But what if…” Without breaking eye contact with his friend, he smoothly cracked open his Thirium berry blast bahama mama banana punch wine cooler, and proceeded to pour it just two centimeters off from his glass, all over the table. “You don’t know.”

Josh was shook in the face of this evidence. North narrowed her eyes so hard that they were just closed at this point. “Highly suspicious.”

“No. Nooooo. No? No! Of course I’m not. Right Markus?”

Markus steepled his fingers together and cackled in a way that most people would find concerning, but Connor just found it adorable. He would saving that in his memory banks. “I’ll never tell~,” he sing songed.

“H i g h l y s u s p i c i o u s.”

“I know who it is,” Nines suddenly said, calm but with such confidence that he was easily heard amidst the ruckus. He had his elbows planted on the table, chin resting upon his entwined fingers. Steele grey eyes swept over the now quiet group, everyone waiting with baited breath.

“Grant us your wisdom ‘o soothsayer,” Markus whispered, eyes wide with anticipation and literally perched on the edge of his seat. Connor seriously measured the pros and cons of just throwing his portion of the tab on the table and yeeting himself out of the window.

“It’s Sixty.”

Immediately the room erupted into scoffs and hisses of disbelief. North gave him a thumbs down and cupped her hand to her mouth, letting a long, “Booooo!”

“Why are you booing me I’m right!”

“BoooOOooOOOOOoooooo!” Markus, Josh and Simon joined in.

Connor blinked, and suddenly felt all of his concerns about Nines’ being the lynch pin in solving this mystery evaporate. If Markus transformed into a C grade Shakespeare impersonator when drunk, and Connor subconsciously wanted to be recruited by America’s Got Talent, then Nines became a consummate dumbass.

“That’s it!” North exploded. “Ten dollars says it’s Jerry #92! I caught him in a wig once!” She stood up, her chair sliding back from the force, and slammed a note on the table.

Simon also stood up with equal intensity. “Twenty says it’s Josh!” He reached into his pocket and slammed its contents onto the table. When he removed his hand six lego pieces, a My Little Pony leg, and two actual diamonds were revealed. Connor hoped dearly that the bartender cut Simon off soon.

“It’s not me!” Josh said exasperated. He paused, then pointedly pulled out some money and threw it in the pot as well. “I put forty on Brenden.”

“Bull! Shit!” North declared. “Fitness guru Brenden!? No way!”

“He fits the criteria.”

“I doubt ‘How To Tell If An Android Has Welded on Parts from China vs Russia in their Selfies’ videos on his YouTube channel is the kind analysis Markus was talking about.”

“You don’t know that! He didn’t specify...”

As the two continued to argue, with Simon chiming in with some non sequitur, and Nines tutting about these ‘ignorant fools and their blindness to the evidence presented’, Connor looked over to Markus. He was quiet. He had his elbow perched precariously on the edge of the table, his cheek resting on his fist, a small hat (that was not there literally two minutes ago) was on his head, folded from one of the bar napkins.

And he was looking at Connor as if he hung the moon and stars.

‘How could the world not already know,’ Connor thought, soft and warm inside, happy merely to be in his line of sight, ‘When he looks at me like that?’

Connor picked up his glass and lifted it. “One hundred dollars on Sixty.”

Chaos erupted. Nines threw his arms up and hooted like he’d won the super bowl. Josh tried to explain to him how that was mathematically impossible. North shook her head and warned him that he would live on the streets with an answer like that. Simon pulled out a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card and said he would give him this Charizard if he agreed with him that Josh was Markus’ secret boyfriend. Connor withheld himself from trying to convince drunk people that this was not how betting worked.

Maybe Connor shouldn’t worry so much about their relationship being discovered after all. At this rate, no one would know about he and Markus being together until the wedding invites.

[thatgrumpybxtch]

OK.. erm Stranger things Headcanons of Lucas realising his big mistake in calling your older sister (Eleven) a weirdo and erm...this happened..

https://www.google.com/search?q=despicable+me+2+agnes+scream&oq=de&aqs=chrome.5.69i57j69i60l4j69i59l3.1966j0j4&client=ms-android-samsung-ss&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8#

That almost damaged Lucas's hearing by 90% and the other kids reactions (Mike's, Dustins and Jonathan's) (Eleven didn't blame you..you were only eight and you got very upset at Lucas for it and Mike wasn't angry at you either because Lucas deserved it and he doesn't want to almost lose his hearing either.

Once again thank you for the request! You have many interesting ideas and scenarios I really enjoy writing for. Once again I may have gotten a bit out of hand but that’s only cause I often get lost in my writing,

Stranger Things Kids(Plus Jonathan) react to Eleven’s little sister almost blowing out Lucas’s ear drums:

Lucas still had a hard time accepting both Eleven and you into their lives

You both acted odd due to your isolated childhood’s, and not to mention the fact you both had literal powers!

Lucas once again was going off pointing out how odd Eleven was but usually he didn’t rope you into his insults (he usually just straight up ignored you if he could) but this time he made the poor mistake of doing so

“So none of you are going to address that we are sneaking around a bunch of weirdos?! We don’t even know what they want or where they came from!” Lucas shouted looking over in your and Elevens direction, throwing his arms up as he did.

Eleven took a glance over at you only to see your little face heat up with anger, looking like you were about to explode.

She knew what was coming and tried to distract you before you could scream but was unfortunately unable to get your attention.

You let out an ear piercing scream, shattering all glass around the group, and shook the ground you all stood on. If the group didn’t know better they’d think it was an earthquake.

Everyone shielded their ears, covering them tightly with their hands, as they squeezed their eyes shut.

Though because your rage was more focused on Lucas than anyone else, he got the worst backlash from your power.

Once you stopped screaming, Dustin, Mike, and Jonathan rushed towards Lucas’s side

You noted how he had collapsed on the ground and was still clutching his ears tightly, as if he was still in indescribable pain

“Holy Shit! Lucas are you okay?” Dustin asked loudly, not helping Lucas’s damaged ears.

Not that Lucas could hear him that well anyways…

Jonathan, who had just witnessed your powers for the first time, kept looking back at you in disbelief before looking back at Lucas

“What the hell did that little kid just do?” Jonathan questioned the others, panicked.

Mike seemed panicked at first, until Lucas finally started to come to. That’s when he had a breath of relief.

Lucas groaned, looking dazed and completely out of it.

“They-They didn’t mean to-.” Eleven stuttering out, standing in front of you.

You were only a small kid, you didn’t fully understand or mean to hurt Lucas.

“They didn’t mean to?! They almost killed Lucas!” Dustin accused you.

“El’s right, they're only eight. They probably don’t even understand what’s going on! Right, (Y/n)?” Mike defended, before asked you if you even knew what was going on.

You quickly nodded. You hadn’t meant to hurt him at all! He just called you and Eleven weird and you got angry.

“See? They didn’t mean to, they don’t know any better.” Mike pointed out.

The group knew deep down that you truly didn’t mean to hurt anyone. You were a young kid with an overwhelming power that you couldn’t control.

Teary eyed, and obviously regretful you spoke up. “I really didn’t mean to hurt him! I’m so sorry Lucas, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

When Lucas finally came to, and could actually hear a bit better, both you and Lucas made amends(with help from the others of course). Both of you apologized for hurting each other feelings/ears.

[secretsofdbz]

OH I have ~opinions~!!

I hope you don't mind my jumping in with an extensive list of ships and what I've seen of them!!

I tend to give a chance to almost all ships, as long as the premise is interesting, and the ship doesn't need to be healthy (but unhealthy ships need to be presented and written as such, you know, don't glorify abuse yaddi yadda).

(more under the read more because Long, also I mention cursed ships as existing)

The issue about having kids is.. well, you have Future Bulma so you can science it out even with non het ships (hell Trunks could have kids without being involved in a ship xD).

Honestly Future Trunks / Future Mai could be fine if she wasn't.. you know, OG DB Mai made younger, and who is technically 30-ish older than him. OG DB Mai was 18-20 when Bulma was 16 and Bulma had Trunks at 30, so Mai is 28-30 years older than Future Trunks (cuz he comes back to the future with two extra biological years due to his stay in the HTC). (Mai mentions she's 41 in the BoG movie, and that is about ~4 years post Buu saga)

In my fic I made "Mai" Videl's little sister. So Future Mai and Future Trunks are about the same age and go through the same events with similar levels of hardship and growth. They're "peers", in a way. Weapons masters who used to manage the bunkers alongside Videl and other Earthlings while trying to survive the Cyborg scourge? Yeah. Give me tht Angst.

Age gaps are interesting to think about, but it's also an issue of maturity.

Android 17 and 18 are teenage punks regardless of their biological age and regardless of timeline, so even if Future Trunks is 17-19 years old, they're "younger" than him in terms of growth/maturity/brain dev and approach to relationships? And that kinda applies to both sets of Androids (future and present; Future Droids are older only because of chronology, not because of "aging" in a ny way shape or form right?).

I personally find Future Trunks / Main Timeline 17 pretty interesting (as a parallel to K18, butterfly effect, etc). Part "we never see Android 17's wife in DBS, I bet it's Future Trunks laying low lmao" crack, part "actually the struggles they both went through and Trunks having to give him the benefit of the doubt because it's not the same android". It's very angsty and the dynamics are interesting to explore, but it's not healthy relationship in the beginning and it takes a lot of work and doubts. I'm not super fond of Future Trunks / Future Droids because of the "eh everything prior doesn't matter" aspect of things, buuuut I've seen some "program reset" stuff that's interesting. I also love Krillin and Main Timeline 18 so it's hard for me to play against it (mostly because it's usually Krillin bashing and my boy deserves better).

What I've not seen enough of would be Future Trunks and Future Videl. That's one helluva interesting ship (that would have been so fun in DBS lmao). Trunks was born about 9-10 years after Videl, but he comes back 2 years older, so they're actually 8 years apart. If you consider the ship happening after he kills Imperfect Cell, he would be 22 and she would be 30. But this Future Trunks is far more "adult" than a college graduate at the same age would be, so I don't find that age gap to be outrageous.

Future Trunks / Main Timeline Broly: Trunks is 19 (post HTC) and (Z) Broly is Goku's age (aka ~27-28). That's not too bad. And.. is Broly functionally "an adult"? He's far less independant and autonomous than Trunks is. Broly needs to be Goku's age because of his background (planet Vegeta, baby Goku, etc), but he could be 10 years younger and nothing would really change in his character. It's crack because of DBZA as you've said, but it existed before that (because Trunks is incredibly easy to ship).

Future Trunks / any version of Gohan: This is the unrequited stuff I really like thinking about. The age gap between the two is ~9 years, so it's easy to have the younger version admire the older one (kid Gohan admiring future Trunks who admired future Gohan). Childhood crushes are cute to hold onto to keep hope and carry on, as long as they remain unrequited and nobody acts or goes into NSFW territory.

With present Gohan, you gotta either have Trunks return by the Buu saga, or play with the DBS timeline (where Gohan is 24-ish and Trunks is 30-ish.. but that opens a can of worms when it comes to Gohan's marriage and I'm just going to shrug about it because DBS is DBS :-| )... oooorrr you gotta use "alien biology/earthlings aren't (our Earth's) humans" and imply present Gohan at 10-12 is actually "mature" and "in control" and not a "child". It goes into very dirty tropes (especially with Japanese trope of Wakashu tween and teenage boys... it goes into deep issues I won't get into, just mentioning that it exists so you guys can block it if needed).

In terms of "ship", my heart will always belong to Future Trunks / Future Gohan POST android destruction and Future Gohan being brought back to life, and then the two of them finding each other as a "similar-ish" aged (maturity) pair. Future Gohan was 21-22 when he died. There's a great doujinshi that plays on the two gohans and two trunkses having perhaps feelings towards one another in an unrequited way that's just.. sooo.. touching. It doesn't go beyond a kiss actually. Pretty shojo vibes haha. More recent depictions use Future Warrior in Black / Xeno Trunks, there's an anthology coming out next week and I'm quite looking forward to it!

Future Trunks / (main timeline) Goku. Ok I'm showing my age here, but this is a early 90s popular ship that is hilarious and built upon the stalk-by-admiration-senpai trope. Trunks has heard so much about Goku that he idalizes him and goes out of his way to be noticed by him. I adore the shenanigans involved. This has had a resurgence with Dragon Ball Heroes because Xeno Trunks and Xeno Goku are just peak coworkers. (note: Xeno ships are top tier and get rid of the "were raised together", "age gaps" and "is actually taken" issues; only Pan remains a problem because she's depicted as a 14-15 yo, but if you age her up it's all gucci)

You can find content with Trunks and Chichi because "milf" I guess, but I'm not that familiar with "content for men". It goes way into fetish territory and yeaaah....

Future Trunks / Pan. Much rarer than main timeline TruPan, but it does exist. Time Travel shenanigans happen and bim, new ship. Obviously Pan needs to be older than she was in DBGT (she's either 9-10 or 14-15 depending on whether you take Toriyama's designs (+10years post End of Z) or the actual DBGT timeline (+5 years post End of Z).

Future Trunks / Chronoa. Xeno Trunks is shown / characterized as being in his solid mid 20s. Chronoa is millions of years old and her "normal design" is often thought of as leaning on the "thousand year old dragon in the shape of a little girl" but her demeanor, speech patterns and actual clothes are not "child" (she has the same proportions as Shin after all). They have a great chemistry and her proper time unleashed form and their bons just work well. I like Xeno Trunks and Chronoa as a ship a lot, it gives Trunks a happy ending.

Alternatively, Future Trunks / Towa. Let's.. just say it's a thing that exists XDDD

Future Trunks / Goten. Ok this exists as a "what if"; either by Future Goten existing (which makes the future Timeline TruTen so... nice), or by having Goten meet Trunks somehow into adolescence or adulthood, or by using the Xenos. It mostly doesn't fit in "the timeline" as we understand it, ignoring all ages / restrictions, the dynamics can be interesting.

Future Trunks / (Future?) Erasa. Either in the Buu arc or in the Future Timeline (same as Future Videl). I like the concept enough that I wrote a little of it in my main longfic (Future Trunks is 19 in Orange Star. I set it up so that the school has anyone from 16-20, but most are 18-20; it's more like prep school than traditional western high school).

Future Trunks / OC (or reader). I've seen a few; Noah has a ton of art, there's an android situation by some people too, there's a Future Marron fic that's incredibly interesting. My friend Etheriumart has a Saiyan-werewolf hybrid, Rieka, that is just PEAK ship for Future Boi. Dragon Ball Multiverse's main artist Asura created Shokaki (fire extinguisher) as a Trunks GF for U12. She's very cute and a firefighter, and Asura truly gives it love :)

My longfic has a girl Trunks meets in the Cell Games (regular earthling who knew the cyborgs before they became cyborgs; they have a sort of fling that's very background overall; it's mostly used to show normal people during this period of canon).

There's also a niche for Future Trunks / Trunks (usually GT-aged maintimeline Trunks, but another Future Trunks has also happened). I've written it as part of my experimental stuff (Future Trunks x Dead!OG Trunks, but my version of Future Trunks is female), but it's obviously an ephemeral thing and not an actual ship that can sail (let alone have kids and stuff). Very angsty and very "identity crisis", but also "nobody but myself can truly understand what I've gone through" sort of bond that will obviously not last. Very Loki-tangential, in a way, but Trunkscest (or ToraTora) has a few different doujin authors (with about half being nsfw and half being sfw).

And finally if you dig deep into the weird parts of the internet, Future Trunks / Bulma or Vegeta is also a thing that exists (obviously not as a durable thing). There's a philosophical argument to be had that "this isn't his actual parents/they didn't raise him/they didn't see him grow up". Canon has Future Trunks call them mom and dad, though, so it's quite cursed, but it goes from unrequited infatuation (on either end) to pretty hard stuff (Android Saga Vegeta is a prick after all). I tend to nope out of it personally but it has quite a few content creators that I felt they needed to be mentioned in terms of Future Trunks ships. There's doujins, fics and occasional straight up hard NSFW stuff ("for men" sections get cursed real quick tbh). (knowing they exist gives you guys the means to block the tag)

I personally don't condone or condemn ships in general, as long as they're properly tagged so I can filter what I don't want to see, so please don't hate me for mentioning "problematic ships that exist" haha I'm just here to share knowledge!

Future Trunks Deserves Better Ships

So fanfic with Future Trunks is very limited. But here are the pairings that I have read or seen when searching for fics in the past:

Trunks/Past 18

Trunks/Future 18

Trunks/Broly (crackship based on DBZA)

Trunks/Mai (most prominent pairing now due to DBS)

Trunks/Female OC (never read any fics with this)

I have a question: why is Trunks constantly paired with people who are WAY older than him?

Trunks is literally the good boy next door type. I can see him getting on well with a variety of women. And Toriyama or whoever decided to pair him with MAI, a woman who was a gag villain in dragon ball?? At least 18 was a fleshed-out character. My boy Future Trunks deserves better!!! Mai is literally Bulma's age or older! She could be his mom!

Out of all the ships, I think Trunks/Past 18 is the best. The age gap would be lesser compared with future 18 and past 18 has the benefit of not being responsible for Trunks' trauma. I read a fic a few weeks ago called "Butterfly Effect" that had Trunks/past 18 as the main ship and it was so good. The downside is that Krillin does not get with 18 but Krillin got another love interest in that fic and I am not a diehard Krillin/18 shipper so I hardly cared.

Trunks/future 18 is interesting. I read a great fic where the OG Trunks (the one killed by Imperfect Cell) was brought back to life and ended up marrying his future 18. They had a daughter together. I loved the character development which made their enemies to lovers journey feel satisfying. However, the issue with Future 18 being paired with Trunks is that she is half responsible for his suffering. Even if it turns out she was mind-controlled, it was still her. Plus, I have a huge distaste for the dragon balls being used to wipe Earthlings' memories so former villains (like Buu) can walk free. It's disgusting. I think Bulma or Trunks erased people's memories when the androids were dead though. But it was convenient for the ship to take off. Can't start dating 18 if you have people screaming whenever they see her and want her in jail after all. Plus, Future 18 has to be at least 16 years older than him. Ugh.

I like Trunks/Broly as a crackship. Too bad there aren't any serious fics that are completed. The only completed works seem to be porn. Anyway, this ship has issues. First the age gap again. Second, it's not a fruitful ship (pun intended). As the last protector, Trunks needs to train humans to fight and/or have Saiyan hybrid kids to teach to take up the mantle. I think you get my point about why this ship is problematic. As the last full-blooded Saiyan, it would benefit the Earth more for Broly to either meet a human female or another strong alien that could bear him kids. Imagine a hybrid with Broly's potential?! I'm pumped with excitement already as I type this!

If I were to decide the type of girl I would pair with Trunks, I would go with something like this:

A fighter like Videl. Someone with a fiery spirit with a passion to get stronger. Maybe she was traumatized by the androids and her desire to get stronger is a coping mechanism. Or maybe she just likes fighting and heard about the martial arts legends. Anyway, her journey could lead her to Trunks and he becomes her master. Training has always been a duty for Trunks. He's like Gohan in that he does not enjoy fighting. But maybe training this girl/woman could help him find fighting/training enjoyable or fun. Her passion could rub off on him and it encourages him to keep pushing his limits. She could motivate him to be better.

A girl who loves adventure like Bulma. This woman could be an alien and through shenanigans she and Trunks end up on a galaxy adventure together. Trunks has likely never travelled much and grew up in a constant warzone. I think it would be nice for Trunks to go on a fun, low-stakes adventure and meet other alien races. Maybe he could find allies/friends that could help protect Earth. Maybe he finds New Namek on the way. Maybe he finds a master to help him unlock his hybrid potential more. Trunks needs a teacher after all. It would be nice for Trunks to have a relationship with a kind of girl that helps him relax and discover his inner child. Someone he can have fun with.

A girl of service/duty. Kind of like Padme from Star Wars. Someone who understands and can empathize with his burden of protecting the Earth. Maybe she works in a nonprofit or something where she is on the front lines helping people every day. She would have grown up traumatized by the androids and lost loved ones like Trunks did. They can help each other heal as they forge a new family together.

Anyway, I did not intend this to become an essay. I just love Future Trunks and I am so disgusted with his (not) canon pairing. It's like that bastard Toriyama checked his female characters catalogue and dumped Trunks with the first one who was still single. Future Trunks deserved better and DBS will never be canon to me! At least GT left Future Trunks with his happy ending. Screw DBS and screw Mai!

[ghostlyhamburger]

As somebody who doesn't believe in souls but digs your writing and wants your thoughts, I think it's possible, just possible, that the Adrien-is-a-Sentimonster thing could actually be quite life-affirming rather than tragic. Depending on how it's carried off, of course, because y'know, sticking the landing is everything.

I think Miraculous Ladybug itself has at least touched on the themes involved before. Things like Markov, an artificial intelligence who's treated as a discrete individual, plays on it. His emotions can even get him magically possessed! Ditto Chat Noir quitting after he almost killed Uncanny Valley, who's an android, but also somebody's beloved daughter and sister. They've got off buttons and were built rather than born, but they're still people, is the thing. Someone took the time to treat them that way.

Hell, more than one person on Miraculous previously worked on Code Lyoko, the show where they spent every S1 episode risking their asses trying to get a virtual girl out of a dangerous computer. Because she was a person, and didn't deserve to be trapped that way forever, even if she wasn't "real." She was capable of feeling and being felt for, and that was what counted. That's what made her a person.

(Code Lyoko symbol reference from Optigami, ayy.)

Anyway, not to get all corkboardy, but you remember how Adrien compared Plagg to the genie from the lamp from The 1001 Nights? There are actually two genies in that story, and I think it's relevant.

One is the djinn in the lamp, who grants wishes. The other is the djinn of the ring, who's more of a servant. He has to obey the wearer of the ring... kinda like Plagg (might even have been him). Or, in the theory we're talking about, like Adrien.

The most popular modern adaptation of that story is Disney's Aladdin (also a cartoon). It ends with someone using a wish to ensure that the genie, an all-around nice guy who's finally found a friend, gets his freedom. A thing every person deserves.

It's a big ask to spend a wish on such a "small" thing, but of course Aladdin does it. He loves his friend, and he's become the kind of guy we can rely on to do the right thing.

Before this story is over, it seems very possible to me that someone is going to spend a wish (or equivalent magic) making sure Sentimonster-Adrien gets to be a real boy. Free and clear. Because he deserves it.

In the original Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi (from 1883), the story ends when Pinocchio does a very selfless favor for the Blue Fairy. His kindness proves to the audience that he was, and deserved to live as, a real boy. He wakes up in a human body, no longer constrained by the puppet one that had imprisoned him.

I guess all we can do is spend a wish hoping that Sentimonster-Adrien is in the good graces of a kind "fairy" who really thinks a lot of him.

Fingers crossed!

Honestly, I actually really like your view! 

The problem is that the Adrien becoming real part has to be included in a potential sentiAdrien arc, and I do not have faith in the writers to do that well with how much of a rushed angstfest this entire season has been.

It’s all well and good for Marinette to love him just as much as if he were human, but the presence of the amok is an absolute danger. if that’s broken, poof, Adrien is gone. The end.

Ladybug’s cure could not bring him back, otherwise we’d still have Sentibug. Once a sentimonster is gone, then it’s gone forever.

And it makes me extremely uncomfortable that anyone can have that kind of power over him.