#but hes mostly neutral

[phykoha]

Does Mikey realize how fucking pretty he is!?

He's so pretty.

Yes (no).

[polvsketchbook]

Leto's twins

[medusas-graveyard]

War knows

Earth, now in danger after the infinite realms waged war against them, is on a time limit to reverse it. The shadows speak of a person; the only person who can change the fate of the whole planet. So the Justice League scramble to find this person, only for it to be revealed as Daniel Fenton-Wayne, the newest adoptee of Bruce Wayne.

The same person who made headlines in Gotham media for his mid-western charm, looked at them blankly and told them good luck.

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[syn0vial]

my gun-loving, car guy, "i'm the straightest man i know" brother who just finished baldur's gate 3 talking about astarion:

[chrliekclly]

oh charlie kelly loose identity tied to emotions nd changing on a whim we're really in it now....

[raionmimi]

Super Mega Ultrawatch!Symmetra is Vishkar's failed kaiju experiment. She's become more aggressive towards people, but doesn't particularly seem interested in fighting either. They have to provoke her into turning into her kaiju form to fight the heroes

She really likes Lifeweaver's biolight plants though, it's one of the few things that snaps her out of her rampages. In this au, he takes her with him when he leaves the company

[littleoddwriter]

Trapped | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hi there! I'm incredibly down bad for him, to nobody's surprise, so here's the first fic I wrote for him. More to come! This fic isn't exactly romantic or even really sexual, albeit with some hints to it; but I used it to get a feel for writing him, first and foremost. And also because I saw somebody wanting a fic where Reader is in Lady Raven's position at the end of the movie, and I wanted that as well, so, here. It's not exactly what was imagined when demanding that, I know, but it's something! (also, excuse the uninspired title, please, it's very tongue-in-cheek, I know, dshjkfgsdkjs) summary; You're captured by the Butcher as his last chance of entertainment - and revenge - before his inevitable arrest or death. There, you learn a lot about him, and also yourself. notes/warnings; GenderNeutral!Reader; Reader is in Lady Raven's position (Reader is a pop star, etc.); slight spoilers for the movie (but I expect you to have seen that if you're reading this anyway); Character Study; Implied/Referenced (Attempted) Murders; Kidnapping; Angst; Implied/Referenced Sexual Attraction; Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse; Mostly Open End; Dark Fic. (once again, this is not a full on romantic or sexual fic about Cooper and Reader, but more of an exploration of the character, his dynamic with Reader, and Reader's own conflicting thoughts and feelings about the situation and Cooper. there are hints of romance and sexual attraction, though. this is a dark fic and it has a mostly open ending; but it does imply a bad ending if we're realistic. if you're like me, you could also find a way to imagine a better ending to it. that's why I left it somewhat ambiguous.)

The car’s passenger door was slammed shut on you, making you jump with the force behind it. A shaky breath left your trembling lips as you waited for Cooper to settle in the driver’s seat of his wife’s car. Soon to be ex-wife, you figured. If not a widow. 

Your mind was still reeling with the night’s events. One moment, you’d been giving your best for the concert, like you always did, and the next moment, you were stuck with a wanted serial killer because you decided to play hero. Desperately, you hoped it would all be worth it, in the end. Or else this might have been the stupidest decision you’ve ever made. You should have just alerted the FBI when you got the hunch that something was up with the man, you berated yourself internally. 

“Put these around your wrists,” the Butcher told you gruffly, holding up a pair of zip ties to you. 

Stunned, you just looked at him for a long moment, your mind trying to catch up with what he was asking of you. Everything has been happening too fast. Too much, all at once. And worst of all, you were terrified. Yet at the same time, you felt for him. He was a desperate man. Trapped. Cornered. In a way, you were his last resort now. How ironic.

Cooper gave you a stern look, his dishevelled hair covering parts of the upper half of his face, but the fierce glint of desperation and murder in his eyes shone through the brunette strands. 

“Put. These. Around. Your. Wrists,” he commanded again through clenched teeth, shoving the zip ties into your chest, as your hands automatically flew up to catch them.

Shakily, you nodded and put your hands through the loop. Once the zip ties were around your wrists, the Butcher pulled them tight, the thin hard plastic cutting into your skin, rubbing it raw with every small movement. 

As soon as he was certain that your hands were tied, Cooper started the car’s engine and quickly exited the garage and driveway. In the distance, you could hear police sirens on their way to the house you had just left behind. Too late. 

“If only you hadn’t decided to play hero,” Cooper mused with a strained, almost manic, smile on his lips, “None of this had to have happened, you know? I would have let you go.”

“And let you kill more innocent people? I couldn’t bear the guilt, knowing I could have prevented it,” you responded quietly.

“As if you actually care about random people’s lives more than your own. You’re just as fake as they all are. Pretending that you’ve got it all figured out, that you’re fulfilled.” He sounded bitter, angry, spitting those last words in your direction, like your existence has personally offended him. His grip around the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

Not wanting to anger him any further, you decided to stay quiet; even though you had a million things on your mind that you would have liked to retort. 

The FBI had briefed you on what kind of man they figured him to be. A psychological profile, they called it. You had heard about those on TV before, but it always seemed silly to you. How could they possibly know what was going on inside a person’s mind without having ever met them before? With all conclusions based on evidence from crime scenes instead? It didn’t make sense to you.

Until now, that was. Cooper seemed like the exact man the FBI had described to you. Perfect on the outside, an overachieving family man, unassuming, kind, always happy and ready to lend a hand. And beneath all of that, on the inside, there was a hurt child, craving their parents’ love and approval, but never getting it. Now, he let that anger that had manifested out on people he deemed to have had it all, to have what he was missing all his life. 

Deep down, you felt bad for him. If his parents had been different, perhaps there would be one less killer on the loose. Or perhaps, he would have ended up this way, no matter the circumstances of his upbringing. Who was to say that killers like him were only a product of abuse? 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into another driveway, getting out of the car. His footsteps were quick and heavy, and your heart was sinking in response to those sounds. 

Ripping the passenger door open, he leaned down to look at you, grabbed your bound wrists and jerked your body in his direction, forcing you out of your seat. Stumbling out of the car, you almost bumped into him, your head barely reaching his shoulder. He really was massive. You stood no chance against him, you thought, feeling defeated. This was it, then. 

Cooper bent over and quickly picked up the bag he had taken with him from the garage, before slamming the door shut once more. And just like he had done before, the Butcher put his fingers on your shoulder, verbally giving you directions for where he wanted you to go, while keeping a dominating presence behind you, not allowing you a real chance to escape.

Eventually, you found yourself in a basement, not unlike the one Spencer, who was hopefully safe now, had been stuck in before. 

The Butcher pushed you down to sit on the cold hard chair in the middle of the room, a support beam right behind it. He made quick work of putting the ice-cold steel chains and cuffs around your wrists and ankles, snapping off the zip ties at last. 

Looking up at him from where you were seated, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeped in. There was no way you were getting out of this alive. 

Cooper retrieved a cleaver from his bag and pulled out another chair, placing it across from you and sitting down on it, playing with the knife in his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, just breathing calmly, idly stroking the knife’s handle with his thumb of the hand that was holding it. With his other hand, he brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

Once again, he was smiling at you. A smile that never reached his eyes, which glinted with murderous intent and something else that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was too big, too sharp, to be genuine. It seemed manic and desperate. Strained. And at the same time, he looked to be in complete control over the situation. 

Cooper Abbott was a man of many facades, you came to realise. 

“I was gonna stop, you know?” he finally spoke up, the tense silence broken by his voice that was laced with too many emotions at once, giving away that he didn’t feel as in control as he seemed to be. 

You waited for him to continue, not daring to ask questions.

“It’s been a while since I last felt the urge. Until you, tonight. I don’t know if it was because of everything that happened, or because I could see right through you… but it was an almost pleasant surprise to feel the urge again.

“Spencer was gonna be my last. That was the plan. Go to the concert with Riley, kill Spencer from the comfort of my home, sneak out hours later, making up some kind of lie of having to work an extra shift because of an emergency, chop him up, dispose of his body and any evidence, return home, and pretend like nothing had happened,” Cooper explained his initial plan for tonight like he was talking about something completely normal, like a family vacation he was planning instead. It was eerie, but somewhat intriguing to you. 

“And then, with time, I would have cleaned out all the houses I had bought to keep my two lives safely apart. I could have been a regular husband, father, and firefighter in just a couple of weeks, maybe months. And no one would have been any wiser on what I had done for all those years that the Butcher was active. It was the perfect plan,” he finished with a frustrated sigh, brushing his hair away from his face again with more force than was necessary. You could hear the steady, but sharp, tapping of his fingers against the cleaver’s wooden handle.

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

You almost felt the urge to apologise for ruining his plans.

“Why did you decide to stop?” you asked, unable to contain your genuine curiosity any longer.

Strangely enough, Cooper’s smile softened, his face relaxed and his eyes lost some of the fierceness in them. “Because I thought that I had finally done enough. The urge had lessened over the years, like I said, I didn’t feel it for a while until tonight. I was just doing it out of routine at this point, I think. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I wasn’t ready to give that up for a while.”

“What changed?” 

“I did… My children changed me. Riley and Logan are everything to me. And I was trying my hardest to be the dad they deserved to have. The one that they needed. A loving, fun, and especially involved, dad. I didn’t want them to feel like I did growing up,” Cooper explained in a wistful tone, “It all started out as just another way to keep suspicions away from me. Starting a family with Rachel seemed like the perfect cover. Nobody would ever suspect that a true family man could be a messed up serial killer, right?”

Despite your current situation, you felt your heart flutter. You understood where he was coming from, and you wished things had gone differently for him. But most of all, you wished that he wasn’t what he was.

“I didn’t expect to actually enjoy fatherhood, or to love my kids the way I do,” he continued after a short pause, still in that oddly wistful tone, a harsh contrast to the entire situation and his true being, “It’s so strange… With everything that happened tonight, I’m just enraged. But I’m less angry about having been found out at all. I’m mostly angry because I’m never going to see my children again.”

This time, you couldn’t resist the urge, and so you whispered, “I’m sorry,” like it was somehow your fault, when in reality, it was his decision to murder people in the first place.

Letting out a long sigh that ended in a small, insincere chuckle, Cooper got up from his chair, meat cleaver in his hand, towering over you like this inescapable force that he was to you. 

With practised ease, he took his shirt off and threw it over the chair behind himself. You had no idea why he would do that. Easier clean-up, maybe? With regret, you realised that you didn’t hate the sight. He was an attractive man, there was no question about that. But to feel such attraction, despite your current predicament, was nothing short of confusing and embarrassing to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Cooper,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wish that was true, but… there’s no escape. Not anymore. I might as well have fun one last time,” he told you quietly with that eerie smile that did nothing to hide his intentions. It only emphasised them now. 

Feeling your heart rate accelerate, your stomach sank with the realisation that this would be it for you. 

It only took two steps for him to stand right in front of and above your seated, captured, cowering form. Before you could utter another plea, Cooper’s free hand wrapped around your throat, almost covering the entire thing with his large palm as his fingers gripped onto your jaw, moving your head further back as he bent down, leaning into you.

A small noise escaped your throat, sounding both distressed and almost aroused. You had no control over that, and it felt utterly humiliating to have made such a sound in response to his actions. 

The Butcher chuckled darkly, a sharp smile playing on his lips, and a glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“I think I’m gonna enjoy this a lot more than expected…” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Please don’t…” you tried again, weakly, your voice strained from the weight of his hand against your windpipe. 

As you struggled to breathe, and his hand only tightened around your neck, your vision started to blur both due to panic and the lack of oxygen. Darkly, in the back of your fuzzy mind, you thought that at least you’d go out with a handsome face as the last thing you'd see. 

Faintly, in the far distance, you heard police sirens. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“If only you had saved yourself…” the Butcher whispered to you before he quickly, and with impressive force, snapped your head back against the support beam behind you, and your world went dark.

[jays-doodle-spool]

i have quite literally never been endeared by a protagonist so quickly

this was supposed to be a quick doodle but i just kept going

[aka-indulgence]

I.. am begging... more Ravioli... he's precious

Here you go! And of course @llamagoddessofficial contributed hehe

He likes making you laugh! And also grabbing you from the other room.

(close ups under read more)

“graveyard” comment based off this ficlet :>

[pacikiara]

y'know I expected the racism, like the "you are not purebred Cybertronians and therefore are abominations" thing to be said by a Cybertronian at some point

but I didn't think it would come from SHOCKWAVE

they nerfed his tits and made him xenophobic 😔

[deaf-solitude]

In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 1 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I have no defence for this. I’m so weak for pathetic men it's not even funny 😔 I’m planning on making this a 3 or 4 parter, so this parts a little on the shirt side for simplicity’s sake. Also I swear I’ve been trying to work on some Umbrella Academy stuff, but I got major writer's block for one of my requests that I was super excited to write. I’m hoping this little fallout tangent will kickstart my motivation. Anyway, enjoy my brain rot-induced fanfic bc there’s not enough appreciation for my boy Thaddeus lmao

You really wished you didn’t have to have a squire tagging along with you constantly. Okay, sure, you didn’t want to be carrying that overly-massive bag of shit yourself, but all they ever did was get in the way and die.

That’s how you found yourself in your current position, gripping your radio tightly between your metal-clad hands.

”No, I do not need another squire! Do not send one-“

”A replacement squire is currently on its way to you. Hold position.”

You groaned loudly as you released the call button, feeling inclined to rip the radio out of your suit and be done with the person on the other side of the transmission. You could do this all by yourself. There was no reason to waste yet another squire on a mission that could easily be completed by you and you alone.

Your last squire already had you walking a fine line between focusing on the mission and focusing on not smashing his head into a wall, though the yao guai he pissed off had beaten you to it. You looked back at the cave behind you, where your squire’s mauled body currently resided, deciding to move away from it in favour of getting yourself back on your intended path.

You didn’t stray too far from the general area, however, begrudgingly waiting for the Brotherhood transport to deliver your new squire. You leaned against a tree in wait, sighing heavily as you tilted your head back.

You were starting to regret ever joining this odd faction, though you supposed you didn’t have many other places to turn to as an abandoned child. Some knights had picked you up off the side of the road one day, where you were protecting an injured dog from a small band of rad roaches. You’d been caring for it for days, bringing it any food and water you could scavenge, and you weren’t going to give up on it so easily.

The makeshift spear you made with your small pocket knife tied around the end of a stick made them laugh, and they quickly shot the roaches before offering to take you back to the Brotherhood. They told you that you could help people just like you helped the dog. You, with your big heart and even bigger ambitions, agreed to go with them.

From that foggy interaction, you specifically remembered the look of the squires’ faces when you so readily agreed to tag along. They almost looked remorseful. You understood why now: the Brotherhood was not a very welcoming place to wannabe heroes. You understood that quickly.

…You never did see that dog again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a half hour or so, before you could hear the familiar sound of an approaching vertibird. You sighed, pushing off of the tree and straightening up your stance. Here we fucking go.

You hardly had it in you to look up as your new squire rappelled down, the oversized bag he was carrying falling to the ground with a loud thump while he clumsily unhooked his harness.

He had already started talking before he even turned around, sending the rappel lines back up to the vertibird. “Oh, Knight Mire!” You barely registered the familiar voice before you saw his face, and it took everything in you not to scream or curse him out.

It was fucking Thaddeus.

He kept talking even as you froze in place, getting down on one knee and going on some spiel about how he was honoured to be in your charge, but it was drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You were going to strangle this man.

You and Thaddeus didn’t have the… best history. Arriving at the Brotherhood airbase around the same time some other kid—Maximus—did, you were both subject to his horrible bullying for a while. You were able to stand up to him after a while, giving Thaddeus a thorough beating for shoving you past your breaking point in your first few weeks there. You were pulled off of him by some officers and thoroughly scolded by Elder Quintus but returned to normal duties soon enough.

Thaddeus had enough of you after that, avoiding you at all costs as long as you weren’t near Maximus, who was now his group’s primary target. As nice as the younger kid was, he never had it in him to fight back against them. You decided to keep away from him regardless, not wanting to get caught up with those assholes again. Another infraction could’ve meant a much more severe punishment for you, and that was not something you were interested in.

“Uh, Knight Mire?” You were snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at Thaddeus, who was still kneeling and looking up at you with some expression of concern or anxiety. Did he not… recognize you? No, of course, he didn’t: he didn’t know your last name, and as far as he was aware, you were dead as soon as Quintus sent you off base years ago. Being sent off base almost always resulted in death.

Good. That was good.

”Rise, squire,” you commanded, your voice garbled by the voice modifier in your helmet. Thaddeus scrambled to his feet, his posture tense and his arms held closely to his sides. You inspected him a little longer, taking note of his skittish demeanour before brushing past him to resume travelling to your original destination.

“You’ll do,” you commented briefly as you passed him, hardly giving him a second glance to see if he was following.

Thaddeus was a bit taken aback by your words, pausing for a moment to mumble to himself: ”I’ll do…? Do for what?” He blinked and shook his head, rushing to fall in line behind you. He struggled to carry the pack that was nearly as big as he was, stumbling every couple of steps as he tried to balance himself.

”What do we have to do?” He questioned quickly, trying to keep pace with you. Great, still as talkative as he used to be. You could never forget his stupid rants, though they used to be more ill-intended, when he would muster up every possible insult and demeaning phrase he could to try and get you all upset. It worked against him, in the end.

You were tempted to pick up your pace and leave the fucker behind—there was no way he’d be able to keep up with you with that thing on his back—but you decided against it, lest the Brotherhood send you another squire.

”You just have to lug my shit around and try not to die,” you answered begrudgingly, “I will do everything else. That’s all you need to know.” You didn’t need another brainless squire getting in the way of your missions, so you hoped he’d take the hint and shut his mouth. But when did he ever?

”B-but the officers said you’d fill me in-”

You stopped suddenly, causing Thaddeus to run into you. You turned to glare at him the best you could from behind your helmet, but all Thaddeus could see was the intimidating blank stare of your metal face covering as you looked down at him.

“You will follow my command while we’re out in the Wasteland, or you will die. Is that clear?” You growled, taking a step towards Thaddeus while he took two steps back.

“Y-yes, my lord! I-I would never doubt you, m-my lord!” He responded enthusiastically, albeit nervously, eager to stay on your good side. That was going to get old fast. You turned back around to continue walking, slightly picking up your pace as Thaddeus hesitantly began following again.

”M-may I ask you something, though?”

You were unable to stop the sigh that came out of your mouth, the sound garbled and distorted coming out of your voice modifier. That made Thaddeus visibly shrink back, his mouth snapping shut at your disdain.

”Right, no! N-no time for talking. We-we have a mission to complete!” He exclaimed with a finger pointed in the air, unable to expel the shake in his voice from your previous order. Silence fell over the two of you for all of one minute before it was broken: “Do you think we’ll get in any fights out here?”

You were going to kill him, you were sure of it.

[santostrife]

[ POV: you are a tree log ]

[circlique]

Sorry I haven't drawn anything in like three weeks. I've been sick/busy/playing Baldur's Gate 3. Here's my Tav, Arlo.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Vox stims a lot in this AU, although I’m not sure in what ways other than excessive fidgeting. Teleportation is also pretty satisfying for him, as well as drumming his claws on things, but I’m not sure what else.

[hana-bobo-finch]

welcome to another episode of I Have a Bad Migraine and I Have Come Up With Something While Half Asleep That I Cannot Really Explain

~~

This is it.

The thought swam through Dingo’s clouded mind over and over. No other thoughts could come through. His mind was in a haze. He had fainted a few times already—he had felt a bit woozy for a few seconds and then came to a few feet away from where he last remembered being, in a heap on the ground. This had happened a couple of times already, but when he woke up from his most recent blackout he lacked the strength to stand back up. Was he really about to die thanks to his own impulsivity?

What a shame that Ohri’s brightest star burns out at such a young age. Oh, that’s deep. I should write that down.

His thoughts were clearing up a little as he began to regain full consciousness. Or maybe it was some sort of pre-death lucidity. He remembered Yonny talking about something like that like it was a fun little conversation starter. Oh, Yonny…he hadn’t thought of him yet. His thoughts, when clear enough to be coherent, mostly focused on his family. Well, ok, they mostly focused on his own survival and how sad it was that such a strapping young man would die so young…But after a good hour of wandering aimlessly with no sign of hope, he had accepted his fate and was mainly worried about how his family would cope. He hadn’t thought about Yonny, though. Not until now. Dingo wasn’t too worried about him, honestly. Maybe it was selfish, but Dingo felt more sorry for himself than he did for Yonny. Yonny would probably find a way to steal the recovered frozen corpse and grow a new Dingo in a lab somehow. But, Dingo, wherever he’ll end up when he dies, will be all alone. No family, no friends, no Yonny. He’ll only see him again whenever Yonny dies. Which, given Yonny’s occasional comments about wanting to solve the mystery of eternal life, probably won’t be any time soon. Somehow, that thought more than anything else, more than his impending doom and sore body, is what broke him. He curled in on himself and buried his head in his arms. He was too tired to cry, too tired to scream, too tired to feel anything but brokenness. He sat like this for what seemed like hours when a booming voice rang out over the mountains:

What’s up guys, Mr. Beast here, and today I’m going to be climbing this mountain and naming it after today’s sponsor, Shopify!

The words startled Dingo out of his stupor. He had no energy to look for the source of the sound. Even with the surprise, his heart was pounding worryingly slow, much different to his normally racing pulse at the slightest startle. Who was this Mr. Beast character? Was he some demon coming to drag him down to the underworld? Whatever the case was, the man continued speaking to his phone before seeming to notice Dingo.

How good was this beast’s vision…? Dingo was the size of the man’s eye, how had he noticed him? He must have the vision of a hawk. Terrifying. The Beast picked Dingo up, cupping him in his palm.

Cancel the video we had planned, he said to nobody in particular. This is all we need for our brand deal.

~~