#this part is from chains perspective

[0ozie]

A Gift From Him

Chapter 01; The Foggy Abyss

A work in progress primochain fic, written by me. I’m honestly not sure I’ll ever actually finish this, and I don’t even have a clear story in mind, just chain (and someone else) being summoned to serve the ministry and their musical attempt at world domination.

Read here or on AO3!

//cw: passive suicidal ideation, ghouls being ghoulish

Water. It surrounded him for miles, obscured his view and altered the lights from above. Cold, dark, and damp– expansive but claustrophobic. A place he’d call home for all of eternity, or for as long as he lived. The Abyss of the Pit. There were no real buildings, nothing that could be recognized as one. Instead most formed dens under the muddy sand or in the dead carcasses of some ancient hellbeast that failed to be the victor in a battle against another.

The ghoul wandered around the pitch black of the depths. Scarce was the prey, and even more scarce was a friend. He could try to take all he wanted but the familiar and rabid glow of another ghoul’s bioluminescence would chase him off every time. He failed to return the favour every time another ghoul would come to steal his own catch. Still, malnourished and alone, he would persevere. Go home and reread every script carved into sea glass by long dead ancients that praised his Lord. Retreat into the comfort of the bones that made up his home and wait for the snow of some unfortunate souls' remains to fall down into the abyss.

All for what? Everyday was the same. The only advantage he had was his translucent body and even then, other ghouls used it far better than he could ever hope to. Maybe it was because they had packs. Maybe it was because they were bigger. Or, maybe, it was because he was destined to fall and become someone else’s dinner. Sleep tempted him— one only death could bring— but what feasible way did he have? There wasn’t much in the Abyss and starvation would be far slower than any he could bring upon himself. He couldn’t find it in himself to will away his own instincts when other ghouls attacked and so he was left to repeat the same cycle every day.

Wake up.

Read the scripture.

Hunt… and then fail to keep it.

Retreat and come up with a plan.

Scavenge for someone’s leftovers— only to be chased off by another ghoul more desperate.

Retreat.

Read the scriptures.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Read the scripture.

Hunt… and then fail to keep it.

Retreat and come up with a plan.

Scavenge for someone’s leftovers— only to be chased off by another ghoul more desperate.

Retreat.

Read the scriptures.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Read the scripture.

Scavenge.

Return home with another ghouls lungs.

Devour.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep…

Where was he? It was bright. Too bright. Far too bright. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was obscured by whatever was glowing in front of him. And then it all dimmed. He could see again.. or.. he could see better, at least. Something foggy and pale in front of him. Hair darker than the Abyss’ depths. It wasn’t cold here. Much warmer actually. Steaming. He could feel his squishy flesh let go of the cold water it held, only for it to be replaced by something much more humid. The figure’s lower half turned red as it’s.. arms— were those arms?— moved something dark and unsaturated over itself.

The ghoul couldn’t explain why he felt compelled to reach out to it. To them. He reached into the fog and froze up when he hit something cold and invisible. When he pulled his hand away he could clearly see where his hand had been. It was less blurry. Clear. There was someone on the other side. Skin bare for him to see, hair as long as the sea herself. They were blasphemy brought to life. And so, he tried to leave them a message; sliding his webbed fingers along the cool, damp glass, in hopes of them seeing.

Hallå?

[littencloud9]

i have watched episode nagi… i am a changed person

[cerulesen]

ghfhfhdhfhhhh

[garygoldenbignaturals]

fuck if you click the jaden link on my pinned (it's just search results if you look up her name) she really is being flanderized at the moment. by me. she's not defined by violence i promise she has depths trust me......

[clover-the-awesomest]

THIS.

THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME.

by reading this comic you've entered a legally binding contract to go vote for gemini's team in the sep au comp to help us tie <3

the gemini [ start ] [ prev ] [ next ]

[samclownchester]

I am immensely enjoying how autistic Christopher Lightwood is

[prokopetz]

One of the pieces of feedback I'd received on the previous revision of Eat God is that the introductory text didn't clearly communicate what the game's big-picture deal is. I'm hoping this rewrite makes it clear!

(Image transcript under the cut.)

Introduction

Eat God is a game about being on the outside. It revolves around the Folk, beings who stand for every small, funny-looking creature in every game that insists small, funny-looking creatures are morally okay to kill, every goblin and kobold and imp, all reimagined here as members of the same impossibly varied, self-created people. Each player will take on the role of one of the Folk, different from any other, and navigate the world from their knee-high perspective.

Of course, player characters in Eat God aren't just any small, goblin-like critters. They're also God-eaters, practitioners of an esoteric discipline – part existential philosophy, part martial art – that comes with both fantastical abilities and big questions: namely, what does it mean to eat God?

Is “God” the systems of oppression we build to keep others down, and eating God means throwing off those chains?

Is “God” the culmination of an error in our understanding of reality, and eating God means finding another way to be?

Or is “God” just a great big tyrant in the sky, and eating God means exactly what you think it means?

As a God-eater, your journey to find out will take you from place to place, with each destination presenting potential answers, usually in the form of someone being ground under someone else's boot. Owing to your limited outsider's perspective, your interventions may not always help, at least not in the ways you intend, but they'll definitely ensure that those who benefit from the status quo are having a bad time.

Or, in less elevated terms, Eat God is a game about a bunch of gender-ambiguous muppety things with bullshit super powers wandering around causing problems on purpose. If you cause enough, you might even accomplish something.

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

this is from Jason's perspective, but the next part will be a more standard 'x reader' fic. the reader is a fox, in case that isn't clear. there will be more parts soon, I promise. the yandere is a bit slow burn-y with this story.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely.

“What do you mean something happened? We’ve got all the guys pinned down over here!”

“Red hood, who took it?”

“That— it’s fine don’t worry about it, I’ll get it back”

“Red-“ *click*

Red Hood disconnected his com, before creeping closer to the small fuzz ball.

“Nowhere to run you little thief. Just give it back,” he bit out, while reaching for the flash drive in the foxes’ mouth. The fox was not happy, being trapped in an alley with a large man blocking the only exit, but it wasn’t as unhappy as one would expect, looking more annoyed than scared. 

Red Hood continued his slow approach until the flash drive was finally in arm’s reach, his hand shooting out to grab it, only for the little fox to dodge and dive right under a large green dumpster. It emerged a moment later— without the flash drive.

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!! I NEED THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT!!” Red Hood shouted, already realizing he’d need to move the whole dumpster to get the drive back. The fox sat in front of the dumpster, staring him down with a blank expression. It brought one of its front paws up to point at the metallic back door stapled into a wall of the alley. Red hood paused. That door led to the back entrance of a restaurant, he recalled to himself, did it want food? The fox sighed with such an attitude its full body sagged a bit, before pointing to the dumpster, and back to the door.

“A trade then…” Red Hood translated hesitantly, and the little red fox perked up with excitement, “I’ll get you some food and you’ll give me back my flash drive?” The fox nodded enthusiastically. 

Red Hood sighed, before walking around the building and into the generic burger chain before him. He was greeted with abused plastic tables, torn red booth seats, a singular front end worker who looked like he lost his will to live years ago, and a strong stench of weed radiating from the kitchen area.

“Welcome valued customer, how may I serve you,” the worker droned out. Red Hood looked up at the menu plastered on the wall above the dead eyed boy at the register. ‘What do foxes even eat? They eat chicken, right? There are a few chicken options… the chicken sandwich has vegetables on it… vegetables are good, right?’ Ya, he’s going with that. “Can I get a regular chicken sandwich and cheeseburger with fries?”

Once he had the food, he returned to the dumpster where the little fox sat expectantly with the black flash drive hanging from its mouth. Red hood approached, sandwich in hand, and this time the fox didn’t run. He placed the sandwich at the fox’s paws, and held out his hand, where the fox delicately placed the drive, before trotting away with its food.

*click* “I got it back”

The coms immediately flooded with admonishments; for turning off his com, for not telling them what happened, for disappearing for ten minutes without explanation, among other things. He listened without comment, much more focused on his surprisingly delicious burger.

A week later he found a familiar looking fox dumpster diving along his patrol route, and decided to give it some fries during his break.

At a certain point sharing his mid-patrol meal with the little fox had become a daily occurrence for the Red Hood. He found its presence soothing, the way it chirped in excitement adorable, and the few times it would let him run his gloved hand down its back were the highlight of his week. 

The fox was currently resting near him on the roof, devouring a box of chicken nuggets, while he reread some case files on his phone. The penguin was up to something — one of the goons that was apprehended last week had slipped up and mentioned a ‘secret shipment’, and then promptly died in his cell before he could be questioned. 

There was other suspicious activity too; he had been spotted with Twoface several times over the past week and a half, his underlings were more on edge than usual, and he had been quieter lately. He was planning something. Something big. But nobody could figure out what. There just wasn’t enough evidence.

Exasperated, Red Hood turned to the joyous little fox beside him.

“You know anything about what the penguins planin’, little fox?” He chuckled into the thought, not really expecting an answer of any sort. If he didn’t know, how could his little friend? 

However, and much to his surprise, the little fox leapt from its spot, and pranced over to the opposite corner of the roof, before looking over its shoulder. Getting the message, Red Hood grabbed all the trash from their meal and followed. The fox led them from rooftop to rooftop, down back alleys, and between cars, before finally reaching an office building. It was a newer construction (relatively speaking) and bustling regardless of the time of day. It housed several different businesses, ranging wildly in specialty. “You're sure it’s here?” The fox nodded, “you know which one?” The fox shook its head, “well thanks for the lead, little guy,” the fox smiled as Red Hood ruffled the fur between its ears. He was already dreading telling the others he got a tip from a fox of all things… unless, of course, he didn’t. Plan formulating in his mind, he returned to his patrol, satisfied.

~~~~~

well, that's all for now, please let me know what you think! my ask box is open, and I'd love to hear from you 💚

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I got to thinking and realized something. Wouldn't you be the scariest thing in home? A human with sharp teeth, resilience and strength. To the puppets, who are all made of soft fabric, you're a machine made of flesh and bone.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Scary parts of the Reader

★ You might not think of yourself as intimidating, but from their perspective, you're a walking anomaly. A creature unlike anything they’ve ever seen. Even frank didn't know what you were! And he's supposed to be the smartest neighbor.

★ Puppets tear, unravel, and fade. Requiring patches or stitches. Even after that, they never look the same. But humans? You heal, your body repairs itself. Leaving you good as new after getting a scrape. That alone could make you seem unnatural.

★ There’s a fine line between strange and scary, and in Home, you might find yourself stuck between it. At least when you first move in. Even so, the tight knit community welcomed you.

★ If you use your teeth to open something, be prepared for some strange looks. Poppy might flinch, then look at you with concern. "O-Oh my goodness, oh dear. Why would you do that?! Is this just… normal for you?" Eyes darting between your mouth and whatever was torn open.

★ On days where you didn't have any sleep, Eddie gets nervous around you. It's something about the way you move that unsettles him. Partnered with the unfocused look in your eyes. Would Eddie be scared? No, not exactly. But he keeps his distance until you’re back to normal.

★ The worst thing Frank learned was that you're a predator. Specifically, an apex predator at the very top of the food chain. Before, Frank saw you as merely an oddity. Now, he sees you as something a little more dangerous.

★ After figuring out human's hunt prey by chasing them to exhaustion. Frank refuses to play tag with you. Saying "Absolutely not." While crossing his arms. "There is no way I'd willingly put myself in a situation where I have to outrun you."

★ Julie loves you, she really does! But sometimes you can be a downer. Even if it's not on purpose. Your serious moments just throw her off. Having a more realistic view on the world would make you stick out in the neighborhood.

★ Your stomach growing freaks out Barnaby. To him it sounds like a dog growling at him. And he reacts accordingly. Leaning back to put some distance between himself and whatever might be dwelling inside of you. Maybe just a little scared.

★ Howdy once saw you bite down on a plastic cord. Cutting it without the need for scissors. "Whoa there, neighbor! Did you just..." He gestures towards the cord, trying to process what he just witnessed. Watching you bite through tough materials is too much for him.

[kosher-toasty]

There's a movie coming out fairly soon called September 5. It's a dramatic retelling of the hostage taking and massacre of the Israeli Olympic team in Munich in 1972, told from the perspective of the ABC sports journalists who had to make the decision to air the event live to the United States as part of their Olympic coverage.

The movie has gotten... fairly middling press? Reviews I've seen say that it's pretty bog standard as historical action/thriller movies go. I, as a Jew, take some umbrage with having the PoV of a recent traumatic event in Israeli-Jewish history be that of the unaffected goyim on the sidelines, but... eh, fine. If it's a story told well, then gei gezunte heit.

I bring this up because the staff of the NYC location of Alamo Drafthouse - a US movie theater chain that I can only really describe as "the Trader Joe's of cinema" (in that it purports to have a better customer experience and support more out there projects) is trying to cancel screenings of September 5, calling it "Zionist propaganda" because, according to their petition:

So right off the rip, they call the Munich massacre by Black September's name for the plan, Operation Iqrit and Biram. This signals to the reader that they believe the massacre to have been a legitimate military operation, rather than what it was - the kidnapping and wanton murder of civilian athletes in the middle of the Olympic games. The rest of the paragraph is the same asinine drivel about how this is obviously Western propaganda and how portraying Black September as evil, antisemitic terrorists (which, by the way, they were, by dint of the fact that they kidnapped and murdered Israeli Olympic athletes at the Olympic games), and they plan to bring this petition to their union meeting later this month.

I spent the last few paragraphs writing about this because I'm disappointed. I've been to that Alamo Drafthouse, and I support the company's ideals of bringing less mainstream cinema into the greater fold, and having cool and interesting showings of popular movies. And now I probably can't go back there, ever, because even if Alamo Drafthouse dismisses the workers' petition and shows the movie anyways, I'll never feel comfortable supporting an institution that can see the existence of a film where terrorists kill my people and cry that it's propaganda by the victims.

[reasonsforhope]

"Researchers at the National Cancer Research Centre in Spain (CNIO) have discovered a mechanism that is triggered just minutes after acute liver damage occurs—and it could lead to treatments for those with severe liver problems.

The avenues for future treatments of liver damage include a diet enriched with the amino acid glutamate.

“Glutamate supplementation can promote liver regeneration and benefit patients in recovery following hepatectomy or awaiting a transplant,” wrote the authors in a paper published in ‘Nature’.

The liver is a vital organ, crucial to digestion, metabolism, and the elimination of toxins. It has a unique ability to regenerate, which allows it to replace liver cells damaged by the very toxins that these cells eliminate.

However, the liver stops regenerating in cases of diseases that involve chronic liver damage–such as cirrhosis—and such diseases are becoming increasingly prevalent, associated with poor dietary habits or alcohol consumption. So activating liver regeneration is key to treating the disease.

Learning to activate liver regeneration is therefore a priority today, to benefit patients with liver damage and also those who’ve had part of their liver cut out to remove a tumor.

The research has discovered in animal models this previously unknown mechanism of liver regeneration. It is a process that is triggered very quickly, just a few minutes after acute liver damage occurs, with the amino acid glutamate playing a key role.

“Our results describe a fundamental and universal mechanism that allows the liver to regenerate after acute damage,” explained Nabil Djouder, head of the CNIO Growth Factors, Nutrients and Cancer Group and senior author of the study.

A “complex and ingenious” perspective on liver regeneration

Liver regeneration was known to occur through the proliferation of liver cells, known as hepatocytes. However, the molecular mechanisms involved were not fully understood. This current discovery is very novel, as it describes communication between two different organs, the liver and bone marrow, involving the immune system, according to a CINO news release.

The results show that liver and bone marrow are interconnected by glutamate. After acute liver damage, liver cells, called hepatocytes, produce glutamate and send it into the bloodstream; through the blood, glutamate reaches the bone marrow, inside the bones, where it activates monocytes, a type of immune system cell. Monocytes then travel to the liver and along the way become macrophages – also immune cells. The presence of glutamate reprograms the metabolism of macrophages, and these consequently begin to secrete a growth factor that leads to an increase in hepatocyte production.

In other words, a rapid chain of events allows glutamate to trigger liver regeneration in just minutes, through changes in the macrophage metabolism. It is, says Djouder, “a new, complex and ingenious perspective on how the liver stimulates its own regeneration.”

The research also clarifies a previously unanswered question: how the various areas of the liver are coordinated during regeneration. In the liver, there are different types of hepatocytes, organized in different areas; the hepatocytes in each area perform specific metabolic functions. The study reveals that hepatocytes producing a protein known as glutamine synthetase, which regulates glutamate levels, play a key role in regeneration.

According to the CNIO group, when glutamine synthetase is inhibited, there is more glutamate in circulation, which accelerates liver regeneration. This is what happens when the liver suffers acute damage: glutamine synthase activity decreases, blood glutamate increases, and from there, the connection with the bone marrow is established, reprogramming macrophages and stimulating hepatocyte proliferation.

Possible therapeutic applications

The experiments have been carried out in mice, but the results have been tested with bioinformatics tools, using databases of mouse and human hepatocytes.

According to Djouder, “dietary glutamate supplementation may simply be recommended in the future after liver extirpation, and also to reduce liver damage caused by cirrhosis.”

The first author of the paper, CNIO researcher María del Mar Rigual also wants future research to explore using glutamate supplements in humans who have undergone liver resection for tumor removal."

-via Good News Network, March 30, 2025

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[muletia]

miniformers is taking over my brain. I need to cuddle mini Starscream, bumblebee, Megatron, and knockout and kiss their little foreheads, Aghdfbsjfhsb I’m going insane

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝟑 ༘⋆✿

bumblebee, starscream, knockout

word count: 1250

A little manipulator (affectionate), who has absolutely no objections to using his charm to coax a few kisses or cuddles out of you

Bee knows he's adorable. He’s well aware of the effect his big, puppy-like optics have on you, and if he really wanted to, he could ask for absolutely anything, and you’d agree without hesitation. So it's no surprise that when he gets shrunk down, you find yourself completely incapable of refusing him anything

At first, however, he approaches the idea of using this to his advantage with restraint — at least until he fully accepts that being tiny is his new reality and that he has to learn how to deal with this new perspective. He stays close because he feels most comfortable in your company and can hide behind you whenever Optimus' towering height suddenly becomes overwhelming

Exploiting your bursts of affection comes later when he realizes just how hard it is for you to resist showering his entire face with kisses and scooping him into your arms at every possible opportunity. He enjoys this reversal of roles, especially since he used to be the cuddle-bug in your relationship. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up hugging you on his own terms — you often find yourself with a few extra pounds clinging to your leg whenever Bee feels like getting some affection

All it takes is for you to get momentarily distracted — maybe you’re trying to discuss this strange height-changing situation with Ratchet, sharing your observations and thoughts, when Bee is already tightening his servo around the sleeve of your shirt, demanding your attention. It's convenient and much more effective than verbally calling for you because the moment he tugs at your clothing, he’s guaranteed a kiss or a pat on the helm

He follows you everywhere and wants to be a part of all your plans for the day. You could be working, and Bee will still be cuddled up against you, finally able to sit on your lap without worrying about crushing it. I can totally see him crawling under your hoodie too, trying to get even closer to you, to experience a level of closeness he never could before

He won’t mind staying like this forever if it means receiving affection from you at every possible moment <3

He bolts before you can even let out a single coo in his direction

Starscream absolutely despises this new state of affairs. He’s become defenseless, easy to overlook, far too vulnerable to aggression from other bots who, in this form, could wipe him out in a nanoklik. He’s fallen to the very bottom of the food chain, which means that under no circumstances can he let himself be seen

He’d like to hide from you too, and from your untamed need to treat him like a sparkling, but the most he can manage is transforming and flying up to a higher level, where he can observe you safely from above without having to endure your cooing about how "cute" and "adorable" he is

That doesn’t mean he’ll stay silent, oh no. You’re going to hear plenty of complaints and theatrics, dramatic laments about the horror of remaining in this pitiful form forever, and screeching about how humans can possibly function while being tiny all the time. He’ll also expect sympathy, tears even, shed over his misfortune, so don’t think you can just ignore his unproductive, egocentric monologue. The moment you stop paying attention, he’ll call you out for it, accusing you of not caring, of being selfish — do you even want to help him? Or do you secretly hope he’ll stay this pathetic size forever just so you can continue tormenting him?

He just needs some time before he exhausts himself with all the dramatics and the consequences of his sudden size change finally catch up to him. The helplessness, the inability to fend off sudden threats, the need for support, because there’s no one else he can rely on but you. And so, he descends from his safe height and returns to you, warning you that he absolutely refuses to be treated like a sparkling

It’s a shame that his whole independent and self-sufficient facade crumbles the moment you press a kiss to his forehead, right at the base of his red crest, and coo sweetly, murmuring that you just can’t help yourself. Starscream manages one more outburst before another kiss silences him a little. And the next one makes him temporarily abandon all plans of immediately finding a way to return to his normal size

Perhaps he can allow himself to be adored by you for just a little while, can’t he?

That little while seems to stretch into eternity as you pull him close, hugging him tightly, unable to resist with such an adorable mech right in front of you. And maybe, just for a moment, he lets himself feel loved, without having to initiate touch himself, completely absorbed in the affection you pour into the touch-starved void in his spark

Unfortunately, he quickly remembers that while you make him feel safe, he can’t allow himself to stay in this form. No matter how wonderful it is to be wrapped up in your arms, he needs to return to his normal size — not just to match his ego but also to protect you and have any chance at victory

He hates this whole situation just as much as the rest of them — until he realizes you’re much more willing to give him attention in this form

Knockout values compliments from you and absolutely loves receiving them. He relishes every second of your attention, using it to stroke his enormous ego. Especially since, normally, you’re not too eager to spend time with him after he so boldly barged into your life and unilaterally decided that he was the most important part of it

So this sudden shrinking? It’s an unmissable opportunity for him to bask in the attention you now lavish upon him — even if, after a while, your incessant cooing starts to grate on his nerves when it’s not about his attractiveness but rather about how “cute” he is. Could you go back to praising his exquisitely polished finish? He didn’t spend all that time buffing himself to perfection just for you to completely disregard it in favor of fawning over his “adorable” faceplate

And while he drinks in your compliments like the finest energon, your constant, relentless attempts to touch him with your dirty, greasy human hands? Those are much less appreciated. You’re smudging his flawless paint job, leaving fingerprints all over him. Do you really have the patience to keep polishing him over and over again? Surely, at some point, you’ll get bored of trying to hug him and smother his entire faceplate and helm with kisses, right?

But when your wave of affection actually subsides, Knockout suddenly realizes that he appreciates your attention in all its forms. He immediately goes on the offensive, dynamically trying to draw your focus back to him, even if that means sacrificing his freshly polished shine and straddling your stomach just to pin you down and squeeze a few more kisses out of you

Oh, and by the way, he's definitely taking a few selfies with your phone. Just in case he ever needs to blackmail you with his “adorable little face,” as you so fondly called it, should you ever refuse to visit him on the Nemesis

[simp-ly-writes]

Skyfall

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Doing everything in your power to get away from the small town you grew up in, you moved to the big city and studied to now become an overworked nurse. But there was always a small part of you that wondered whatever happened to your childhood friend (and crush) Alexander Duggan... so what happens one night when you discover a bloodied man inside your apartment?

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, depictions of blood and gore, mentions of guns and violence, usage of pet-names (ex. love, sweetheart, etc) swearing, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,814 | PART TWO

─ · · A/N: How are there not like a dozen fics on this show?!?! It's giving the Gentlemen (2024 - Series) all over again... so I must write something on it! Be sure to comment or reblog if you enjoy~

─────── · ·

You had just finished working a 48 hour shift at the hospital and after a two hour commute on delayed public transit due to the onslaught of never ending rain, you were finally at the door of your one bedroom apartment.

Eyes blurry as you fumbled for your keys, cursing under your breath as you dropped them your back-ached as you bent down and finally opened your front door. To make matters better, it appeared you had left the bathroom light on in your rush to get out of the house after waking up late. well, fuck, you said to yourself, kicking the door closed behind you.

Setting down your keys in the dish and locking the door and chain, you shuffled your coat off your shoulders and allowed it to dry before sitting down on the bench in the entrance ,shaking your boots off and changing into your slippers with a heavy sigh.

Picking yourself back up, knees feeling weak as you grip the doorway before heading into your kitchen, you feel around for the light switch, eyes hissing from the sudden change before placing the kettle on and choosing your favourite themed-mug. You open your fridge and peel open a pre-made salad, throwing the bamboo utensils aside as you grab your metal ones instead.

The kettle begins to bubble, steam rising, your ears start to ring as exhaustion clouds over your every thought and movement as you pour the blueberry's out onto the greens of your bowl and tear open a packet of sleepy-time tea.

The kettle clicks off as you breathe in the steam, closing your eyes as you lean against the counter and bring the mug up to your lips, a sudden hiss coming from the bathroom has your eyes rushing to open a moment afterwards.

That once ringing in your ears is now replaced for a rising heart rate, its beat drumming through your head. That once exhaustion you had felt now out the window as adrenaline pumps through your veins. It was too early in the morning for any of your elderly neighbours who all were retied to be up leaving only one explanation left, there was someone in my apartment- correction, there is someone in my apartment right now.

Gently setting your cup on the counter as softly as you can, you feel around the still-opened cutlery drawer for a knife and walk out of the kitchen and down into the hall. You make your breaths shallow, footsteps accounting for every squeaky floorboard you remember before pausing and pressing yourself against the wall near the door to the bathroom.

You rise the blade up from your side and for a split second, you see a tall silhouette in the warm light before the light flicks off, casting the apartment in an equal darkness and silence. All to be heard is the radiator humming in the window as your knuckles turn white around the handle of your blade.

You close your eyes, counting, one... two... but never quite making it to three as whoever the intruder was inside your apartment had suddenly turned out of the bathroom. Before you could scream, a large palm was being place over your mouth, your wrist twisted allowing the knife to hall and clatter against the floorboards.

You tried to twist, raising your leg up for a twist yet their open hand was already accounting for that, pushing your knee aside and using their bodyweight to press you flush against the wall.

You shake in place, feeling the intruders heartbeat on your chest as you both share ragged breaths. They release their hand from your mouth as you open and close it, debating of begging or not before feeling a sudden softness as your neck has you jumping as it shifts against your skin, tickling you- curly hair you can see highlighted by moonlight coming down the hall.

They rest their head against your shoulder, you can feel their shoulders move before hearing them chuckle, "Hello, love," they call out, their breath warm against your neck as your heart nearly jumping out of your chest as you more violently try and shake yourself away from their touch as their arms envelop you into a one-sided hug.

"Who... who are you?" you try and sound firm yet it comes out more shakily then you were intending. You push your hands against the strong chest, feeling the muscles underneath the thin sweater they wear, fingers extending- trying to shove them away with no avail as they stand firm in their spot.

"You know, I remember when you would shove and rough house with me on the play-equipment when we were younger. Thinking back..." the man laughs, you can feel his smile as he holds you, your fingers digging into his shirt, "...you really used to be so mean to me before changing that up so quickly the next year that I've always wondered why that was the case?"

You allow the question hang in the air, a name just on the cusp of your tongue as your hands move up from their chest to around their shoulders, you startle feeling a long metal object rather than more warm body heat. "I wouldn't touch that, love. I would have disassembled it before greeting you but I couldn't be too sure until you came home."

You nod, slowly, "Alex?" you whisper the name, unsure and nervous to get it wrong. The man grips you tighter, "yes, and... I need your help." You feel cold when he steps away, watching as reaching beside your head to turn the light switch back on before you can see his small smile... and bleeding side.

Your eyes go wide in horror as you look down to see your hand covered in a deep red liquid. "Fuck, you're bleeding!"

"It appears that I am," Alexander teases before wobbling in his stance, you rush over as he shrugs the large gun from over his shoulder, allowing it to settle on the floor before allowing you to help him over to the bathtub.

You stand there, looking down upon him for a sec, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head as you try and fathom how the man in front of you, currently bleeding out in your apartment and with what appeared to be a fucking sniper rifle was somehow also that little lanky boy who lived down the street and saved your life more than a few times before you threatened his own (with love, of course).

"I'm blushing under your attention, sweetheart. But I really must insist you put your education to use or else you'll be catching up with a corpse instead of a man," you nod again, unable to find words before running towards your kitchen in search of your workbag and first aid kit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, you rush around your apartment, knocking into doorframes before falling to your knees and lifting his shirt up.

Not allowing yourself to become distracted by only looking towards the gunshot wound you quickly feel along his side, the bullet did not go through, its still inside of him. You look up, through your lashes at Alexander, "this is going to hurt."

"It currently hurts," he says back, "but I rather be hurting than dead." In the next series of moments, your white bathroom tiles become dotted in red as blood drips down your elbows and scrubs. Alex is breathing heavily as you dig your pair of tweezers into his side, groaning, moaning and cursing, "could you please, shut up?" you smile sarcastically, eyebrows furrowed as you can see the slight glimmer of metal from your phones flashlight, bingo.

You could only imagine if one of your neighbours woke up now, your public imagine with them now potentially tainted the next time you rode in the elevator together. "A little difficult-" Alex begins to say, you throw one of your hand towels up, "mouth, now," you demand and receive a muffled, "yes, ma'am." Your hands shake, adrenaline wearing off finally as you squeeze the bullet as it slides and Alex wines, "sorry," you murmur before going in again and this time- you are successful.

The bullet is successfully dislodged as you hold it up to the light, impressed by how small it is, "hand-gun?" you make as an offhand comment before placing it on your vanity. And moving to disinfect and bandage the wound. Alex's veins appear sharp, running up his hand that grips his knees, his head tipping backwards as you stitch him up with precision, licking your lips as your cheeks flush. Get a grip, you scold yourself before standing.

Alex looks up at you, before removing the towel from his mouth, and standing, removing his shirt before pausing halfway as you curse him out, "Fucking hell, A! Don't go messing up my stitch work!" You shake your head, telling him to sit back down as you remove the article for him.

Your eyes move down from his face to his defined chest and abs that contract with his every breath he takes before examining your work- still intact, thankfully. "I do believe I have some explaining, after some much needed sleep though," Alexander says, watching as your blinks become extended as you open your hand up for him to take as just like old times you lead him yet instead of towards the swing sets you sit him down at the edge of your bed before feeling around in your closet for clothing from your ex.

Alex watches you with a tilted head, eyes narrowing once he sees the large shirt in your hand and sweatpants in the other. He grips the sheets as you look at him with concern, "would you like some pain relievers? I can only imagine how much that must-"

"I don't think your boyfriend would be quite too happy seeing another man sleeping in your bed, love," Alex says, taking the articles of clothing into his lap as you roll your eyes. "Ex-boyfriend," you clarify before helping Alexander into his clothes and throwing his old ones into your washing machine.

You tip your head back into the bedroom, "I'm gonna wash up, try and get some rest," you speak softly watching as Alex slowly lovers himself underneath your covers. "Mhmm and you will be joining me later?"

You blink, confused, "I am uh- going to go sleep on the couch-"

"Why? There's more than enough space here," Alex opens his eyes again, looking at you with a raised brow, arm flexing underneath his head.

"Well, uh, aren't you married?" you ask, looking at the ring on his left hand as it is now his time to clarify, "divorced, still keep the ring for appearances and all." You nod, a bit confused, "I'll be back in 10."

"I'll be counting on it."

─────── · ·

─ · · PART TWO

[bearflinn]

Writing Advice: Worldbuilding as Tension

One of the most common pieces of advice/points of critique I see for writers of all skill levels, is avoiding exposition dumps, often accompanied by the age old 'show don't tell'.

When writing fiction in general, but especially sci-fi and fantasy, it's important that the reader understands how your world differs from our own. And worldbuilding is one of the few places where you're less likely to get hit by the proverbial SHOW hammer, since some things, like the rules of your magic system, are difficult to show. So telling becomes more permissible.

However, it can be incredibly tempting to just infodump at every opportunity. Especially for those of us who have a wiki with more words than the finished project will have. But as I'm sure you've heard before, doing this can break immersion and destroy the pacing of your narrative.

While there are multiple ways to make exposition engaging, I'm going to focus on the approach I use most commonly: The Drip Feed.

Filling an Ocean One Droplet at a Time

Before we get into the actual methodology, I want to take a moment to dissect how and why exposition dumps can be problematic.

The Problem: Context, Relevancy, and Retention

Context is both the thing we're trying to communicate, and the source of excessive exposition. It starts simple, like maybe the reader needs to know that the main character is poor. And I guess I should explain why they're poor. Next thing you know you've spent 4 pages describing the socioeconomics of your world.

That's what I call 'context chaining'. Since everything in fleshed out worlds is interconnected, it can be very easy to just keep on filling in the gaps. Preemptively answering any questions the reader might have. The problem?

Relevancy. When you introduce a ton of worldbuilding in one fell swoop, the vast majority of it won't be relevant to the current place in the narrative, even if it will eventually be relevant for the story overall. Which, you guessed it, hurts:

Retention. Without immediate relevant context for the worldbuilding you introduce. Readers won't have anything to anchor the information too. Calling back to the example I used earlier, readers will remember that the character is poor, and they will likely remember why. Anything beyond that is unlikely to be retained.

The solution?

Restraint and Trust

For many of us, the world we've built is a large draw of the narrative we're crafting. However, one of the best ways to draw people into your world is to talk about it as little as possible. But how will they know about x?? They won't, until it matters.

Now I'm not talking about soft worldbuilding. This will work for both hard and soft worldbuilding (honestly it's even better for hard worldbuilding).

Instead of straight up telling the reader about the world and all of its intricacies. Introduce the most complex aspects as questions that you answer bit by bit throughout the narrative. As an example, maybe our poor character is struggling to buy food because they went into debt casting spells.

Suddenly, the reader is wondering: Why do spells cost money? Who controls the supply of magic and/or components? Is spellcasting something everyone can do? What kinds of magic are more valuable than eating? and so many more.

But here's the key: don't answer them. At least, not until absolutely necessary or there's an organic place to do so. Wait until the perspective character is directly interacting with one of those questions. Maybe they walk past a trickling fountain, revealing that the mana wells are running dry. And later debt collectors come for the main character, revealing who controls the mana.

Unanswered questions are a huge source of tension, and worldbuilding can provide a subtle sustained undercurrent that you can leverage to propel the narrative in slow points and/or make your payoffs hit even harder. All you have to do is answer the right question at the right time.

The best part of this method is that by waiting until your perspective character is engaging with a part of your world. It allows you to convey exposition and character at the same time. But what about worldbuilding that the characters don't interact with directly? It doesn't matter.

Well it does, to you as the author. But in general, if something doesn't matter to at least one of your characters, it won't matter to your readers. If your character isn't a politician, they aren't going to care about the intricacies of your political system. So why would the reader?

In short, keep any worldbuilding closely tied to your characters' experience, and let the reader wonder. The end result is a smoother and more engaging learning curve that pulls the reader in. Giving them the satisfaction of putting the pieces together themselves.

If you have any questions or additional thoughts let me know!

[thesecond-if]

GENRES: Psychological Horror, Supernatural Thriller, Mystery, Apocalyptic Drama

CONTENT WARNINGS: Guilt, suicide, mental breakdowns, religious themes, emotional manipulation, death, violence (non-graphic), mass hysteria, existential dread, mild body horror, cult behavior, and scenes of intense psychological unease.

(This story is dark and introspective. Reader discretion is advised.)

You are a nobody. A citizen in a city crumbling under its own sins—violence, apathy, corruption, faith lost and power abused.

And then… He arrives.

They call Him The Second. He’s calm. Soft-spoken. He doesn’t threaten. But in every place He appears, people begin to break. Confess. Kill. Vanish. Not because He harms them, but because they see themselves… too clearly.

Some worship Him. Others fear Him. But one thing is certain: He is not here to save. He is the second coming of sin.

Customizable MC (you) with customizable reactions

Multiple perspectives (brief playable flashbacks of others affected by Him)

Dynamic morality system (not “good” or “bad”, just what you can live with)

Unreliable narration

Foreshadowing, hidden clues, and optional deep dives into lore

HIM

“I am not your savior. I am the consequence you summoned.”

The mysterious man at the center of it all.

Always calm, eerily kind.

Appears across the city at random.

His presence alone causes breakdowns, death, or revelation.

No one knows His real name—or what He wants.

He is either divine... or the final product of human sin.

Detective Jonah Voss

“You’re telling me the guy walks in, says nothing, and a man with no priors just hangs himself?”

A grizzled, chain-smoking detective assigned to investigate the deaths linked to Him.

Sarcastic, skeptical, and tired of everything.

Hides his guilt well—until He arrives.

Reluctant to believe in anything… but slowly realizing he may be part of something far bigger.

Sister Mercy

“You’re all asking the wrong question. It’s not who He is. It’s who we made Him into.”

A young nun who believes He is a divine reckoning.

Soft-spoken, poetic, unsettlingly wise beyond her years.

Acts as a spiritual guide—or a manipulator. You decide.

She may know more than she’s letting on.

Silas Wren

“I recorded it. Him. I saw it happen. And I’m telling you—he’s not human.”

A conspiracy podcaster-turned-doomsday prophet.

Obsessed with finding patterns, messages, proof.

Claims he caught The Second on video—but no one who watches it survives.

Loud, manic, strangely charming.

Dr. Elaine Marrow

“The phenomenon is psychological. Mass hysteria. Projected guilt. Explainable.”

A clinical psychologist brought in to consult with authorities.

Believes there’s a scientific explanation for the deaths.

Rational to a fault—but beginning to fray.

Has a personal reason to deny the supernatural.

Amari & Ruth (The Twins)

“He loves us. That’s why we see Him everywhere.”

Teenage twin girls who follow Him from city to city.

Claim He speaks to them in dreams.

Their eerily synchronized behavior unnerves everyone.

One seems sweet. One seems cruel. Both know more than they should.

Father Isaac Rowe

“I preached forgiveness for thirty years. Now I wonder if I just taught people how to lie to God.”

A once-popular televangelist now disgraced.

Obsessed with redemption—and terrified of what The Second means.

Wants to face Him. Needs to.

But his past is catching up.

ASK ARE WELCOME @interact-if