#i’ve seen a bot before of me

[dovewingkinnie]

they fucking what

i was turned into a character ai…. if ur gonna do that at least put me in a room with a beautiful man ai..

[since-times-long-forgotten]

Kitten?...

kitty!

I offer you a picture of a family member’s cat in return

[webshootersandwingdings]

SHE-HULK (2022) | THE THING (1983) 🐶

[sleepdepravity]

The downside of getting more attention is that now bots can find me easier. I had been able to thin the herd a while back by blocking egregiously, to the point where I was maybe getting a bot follow about once per week at most, but now it’s ramping up again. Though it’s gonna be hard to be merciless this time…now that I have actual #content that I know people actually want to see…the only reason I was able to block egregiously before was because I could easily be like, “ha whatever these people wouldn’t even miss much.” But now…

[gigabyte-flare]

The Devil is Real (Part 1)

Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.

I hope you guys like thrill rides :3

The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail

April 22, 2008

Sis,

I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!

With all my love,

Vince

You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.

This letter, however, says otherwise.

“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned. 

You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.

“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.

Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”

“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!” 

You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.

Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other. 

There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?

“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”

“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”

You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone. 

“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen. 

Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.

“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”

“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.

“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food. 

“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.

“And who’s going to watch André?” 

André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.

“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.

The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.

May 15, 2008

Vince,

First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.

Sis

May 31, 2008

Sis,

I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Vince

You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.

The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.

Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”

Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”

You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”

You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”

“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”

“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”

You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”

You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”

You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on. 

“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.

“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”

“If you say so…” you reply softly. 

You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.

“Hey Sis, we’re here!”

After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.

“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.

You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.

“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it. 

Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.

“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”

Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”

Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.

“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.

“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.

“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.

“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”

“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”

You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.

“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.

“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”

“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.

“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.

“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”

While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.

“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”

Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”

“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”

“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”

You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up. 

“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”

Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.

“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building. 

Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.

“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”

There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.

You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.

Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”

Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”

The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you. 

As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.

Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.

“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”

For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief. 

Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”

“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.

Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…

Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.

“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”

The man nods, “sí, claro.”

Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”

“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.

You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.

“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”

“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”

“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.

“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”

“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”

“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”

Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She is perfect.

Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.

Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.

Part 2

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

~

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

~

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

~

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

 He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

[in1-nutshell]

Being Noah's twin and knowing the Autobot's before him

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human reader

ROTB

Buddy is Noah’s younger twin.

It all happened a couple years ago while Buddy was still in high school.

Noah had been going on and on about the army engineering program and the places he would go.

Buddy was close to shoving their hot dog in his mouth.

They knew with him leaving, things at home weren’t going to be the same and with no Noah at home…

It didn’t seem right at all.

They don’t know why they did it, but that night they snuck out of the small apartment and walked out.

Maybe they needed to get their head straight and accept that Noah was leaving.

Buddy didn’t know how long they were walking for, but soon enough they reached the docks.

It wasn’t too far from home, but far enough to warrant them to turn back and go home.

That was until they heard a whirling sound that sounded suspiciously like whining.

They tried to go back but the whirling sound grew a bit louder and more pitiful.

Despite their better judgement, they went to the noise.

Buddy couldn’t believe their eyes…

Maybe they finally snapped from the stress of finals.

A yellow robot clutching his ‘knee’ was making the whirling sound while two other robots were around him.

They looked concerned and tried to help Yellow.

Buddy took a step backwards and stepped on some loud bubble wrap.

Pink and Blue take out their weapons and point in the direction of the sound,

“Show yourself!”--Blue

Buddy shakingly steps out of their hiding place with their hands raised above their head.

All four of them stared at each other.

“…Hi?...”--Buddy

Buddy internally screaming at that response.

“Great, a human. Prime’s not going to like this…”--Pink

“I heard someone in pain and came to see…”--Buddy

“Yeah we’re fine—”--Blue

Yellow whirls in pain as some sparks come out of his knee.

Buddy looks at Yellow sympathetically.

“I’ve got a tool kit with me. I can try and see what’s wrong with your friend. I promise I won’t do anything funny!”--Buddy

Pink looks like she wants to retaliate, but Blue puts a hand out to stop Pink.

“Maybe squishy over here can see something we can’t. It doesn’t hurt to try.”—Blue

Pink finally steps aside with Blue.

“…Fine.”—Pink

Buddy slowly walked over to the bot’s sparking knee and took out their mini tool kit.

They used a flashlight and began their look.

A long twig stuck between some of the joints, that must have been the problem.

With a swift yank Buddy got the twig out of the joint.

They nearly cracked their skull but pink and blue both break their fall.

Buddy held up the twig in victory as yellow moved its knee much easier and without sparks.

“Ha! Got it!”--Buddy

“You did?”--Pink

Yellow beeps happily and gently pat Buddy’s head.

“Thank you darling—the pain—hurting like a—”--Yellow

“Got it! You’re welcome… umm do you guys have names?”--Buddy

“My--name is—Bumblebee.”--Bumblebee

Buddy smiles at the yellow bot.

“The names Mirage squishy.”--Mirage

“I am Arcee.”--Arcee

Buddy smiles.

“I’m Buddy. If you don’t mind, but what are you guys?”--Buddy

“Umm… I think its better to take you to the boss bot for that.”--Mirage

“Boss?”--Buddy

“Don’t worry we ain’t gonna eat ya or anything. We’re kinda like E.T!”--Mirage

Buddy deadpans.

Bee transforms into his alt mode.

“… E.T. never did this…”--Buddy

Optimus was not exactly happy to have been discovered by humans… but this one did help Bumblebee…

He decided to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

Over the next couple of years Buddy would start sneaking out and showing the bots Earth and the city while they shared their mission and their ways as well.

Buddy and Arcee, after the brief tension, were often seen driving around the backways on her alt mode talking about the city and its history.

Buddy and Arcee driving by a section of the docks.

“What about this place?”--Arcee

“Don’t know too much about this part, except the time me and Kris found 10 bucks and a pizza rat.”--Buddy

“What’s a rat.”--Arcee

Buddy and Mirage enjoy the little speedy joyrides around the city and a good game of ‘which hologram is mirage’ in the more secluded hiding places.

Buddy looks at the four holograms of Mirage.

“Eenie meanie minie…gotcha!”--Buddy

Buddy tries to tackle ‘Mirages’ pede but passes through.

“Ha! Try again Buddy!”--Mirage

Mirage picks up Buddy from the back of their shirt and stands them up.

“Best out of 25?”—Mirage

Buddy smiles as they brush off some dust from their clothes.

“You’re on!”--Buddy

Buddy and Bumblebee like to go out to the drive-in movie theaters, joyrides and stories from their lives before they knew each other.

“So, you came to earth before everyone? Even Boss bot?”--Buddy

“Yes!”--Bumblebee

“And this Charlie girl? She’s your friend?”--Buddy

“She was—my first—friend.”--Bumblebee

“You gotta take me to this Charlie so I can thank her for taking care of you.”--Buddy

Bee whirls happily.

“Ooh! The movies about to start!”--Buddy

In starts the ‘Terminator’ movie.

Optimus reminded Buddy a lot of Noah.

Older brother’s trying to protect their families, while also being the most stubborn beings in existence.

That must have been a reason why Buddy understood how Prime worked and got along with him so well.

Priem isn’t attached to a human.

No, he is not…

So, what he drove a couple miles to pick them up from a party when their brother couldn’t.

So, what if they let him rant about the war and they would rant about school and their family.

He isn’t attached or anything…

Buddy hurriedly climbs into Prime cab sniffling.

“Buddy? Buddy what happened?”--Optimus

Buddy curls up in their seat making themselves as small as possible.

“…Buddy? Are you all right?”--Optimus

Buddy sniffs.

“Noah… Noah and I had a fight and—and—I just need a moment Optimus…”--Buddy

Optimus wraps the seatbelt around Buddy loosely, the best way he could give a hug them.

“Take your time Buddy, I’m here.”—Optimus

Optimus plays Buddy’s favorite radio station.

“I’m here…”--Optimus

The day that Noah comes in Buddy was with Optimus and nearly begged him to not transform as their secret would be let out.

It was let out regardless.

Noah is just stunned that Buddy knew about the aliens for years!?

He wants an explanation.

“HOW!?”--Noah

“Listen, I can explain!”--Buddy

“You better!”--Noah

“Calm down, Noah it’s all fine.”--Mirage

“You don’t get to talk, you kidnapped me!”--Noah

“And you were trying to steal me.”--Mirage

“I’m sorry you were trying to steal him?!”--Buddy

[novafire-is-thinking]

Speculative Analysis: Why TFP Soundwave is so Terrifying to His Fellow Cybertronians

Time for an essay on why I think TFP Soundwave might have chosen his current cryptid form—electrical tentacles and all. There’s a TL;DR at the end, so feel free to scroll down first and then decide if you want to read the full thing.

This will involve cross-continuity speculation, centered around TFP / Aligned but with some IDW / MTMTE lore thrown in. This could also loosely apply to Bayverse Soundwave, but I won’t be focusing on him. I’m confident you all can infer the potential implications for that version of his character by the time you reach the end.

Okay, so I’ve seen several fellow TFP fans speculate about why Soundwave went from beefy gladiator to bonafide cryptid. Some say it could have been due to the loss of his horde of “minicons” (the term used in ‘Exodus’ by Alex Irvine). Others think it was just Soundwave’s way of adapting to the direction of the war by taking on a form that would give him the best strategic advantage in his position as Megatron’s communications officer. I agree with the latter, but I think there could be more to it than that.

As we see in the flashback for Ratchet’s story and the TFP Titan comics, Soundwave had his current frame type, armor, and alt mode back on Cybertron:

[Sarcastic Soundwave: Superior]

In the real world, Soundwave’s design is based on the MQ-9 Reaper military drone—an earth-based aircraft, but I’m not going to address that small discrepancy since it’s not relevant to this analysis. Skinny, cryptid drone Soundwave existing prior to his arrival on earth supports my theory anyway.

“Can’t we throw a tarp over him? He’s creepin’ me out.”

-Bulkhead in Minus One

On the surface, Bulkhead’s comment and Smokescreen’s subsequent response seem like an interaction between a couple of Autobots who are unnerved because they’re familiar with Soundwave’s reputation—Bulkhead more so than Smokescreen since the latter had probably not seen Soundwave up close in action before coming to earth. However, I think some of Bulkhead’s fear might have been due to an entirely different reason: Sparkeaters.

While reading MTMTE #3, my eyes were met with this lovely sight /s :

[Hey, wasn’t the energon eater in Rescue Bots called “Sparky” too? I guess it’s a cross-continuity tradition to call life-sucking parasites “Sparky” at least once.]

Terrifying? Yes. But I stared in horrified awe at this abomination and thought, “Wait. One. Fragging. Minute. I’m having a galaxy brain moment.”

Mind. Blown. Their overall sharp, jagged appearance, their thin, but formidable frames, their prehensile cables extending from somewhere inside (fuel lines for the sparkeater; multipurpose tentacles for Soundwave). I was—and still am—fascinated by the uncanny resemblance.

[Now who’s Sparky?]

It’s true that sparkeaters aren’t confirmed to be canon in the Aligned continuity, but their existence isn’t denied either. We got something similar with the zombie Terrorcons, but those were a new phenomenon produced either by Megatron’s blind ambition and stupidity or Knockout and Starscream’s lack of forethought and scientific restraint. For the sake of where I’m taking this, let’s assume that sparkeaters, as defined by IDW, do exist in the Aligned universe. What would this mean for Soundwave’s disturbing choice of frame/body type? Why choose a visual motif so strongly associated with death and disease?

One word: Mimicry

Mythologically, historically, and medically, sparkeaters are inseparable from death and disease. Their very existence instills fear in most Cybertronians. What better way for Soundwave to strike terror into the sparks of his enemies (and potential enemies) than to take on a physical form that resembles the sparkeater—something that has been known to kill normal Cybertronians using a deeply disturbing, painful, and even sacrilegious method? Even though the initial shock of seeing a “sparkeater” show up during or around a fight would have dissipated once the Autobots realized it was mostly cosmetic, an impression would have been left. Coupled with his spy capabilities and gladiator-style prowess in combat, a message would have been sent: Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

And there you have it, folks! Another reason to love Soundwave’s design.

Bonus:

I could see Soundwave being called a few things by allies and enemies alike: “The Decepticon Sparkeater,” “Soundwave the Sparkeater,” or just “The Sparkeater.”

An interaction between two Autobot scouts:

Scout 1, over comms: “You there, kid? Who is it? Who did Megatron send this time?”

Scout 2: “It’s The Sparkeater! He’s here!”

1: “You mean Soundwave!? Do you have a visual?”

2: “How many ‘Cons do we see walkin’ around looking like sparkeaters??? Of course it’s Soundwave! And yeah, I’ve got a visual.”

1: “Aw, hell. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

TL;DR: Soundwave may have put more thought into his appearance than is obvious. He may have opted to look like a sparkeater as a way of sending a highly effective warning.

[forever-and-whats-left]

SKETCH REQUESTS ARE OPEN DUDES!!

I’ve been sorta artistically constipated as of recently, I’m in dire need of your help! So do your pal a favor and give me a lil ol’ request! It’ll give you the opportunity to see perhaps one of your favorite poto characters/adaptations you haven’t seen me draw, a ship you like, or maybe just same old Christine and Erik.

Just a few rules!

- please give me a little repost or follow before, feels a bit silly to ask for art when I don’t even know if you like it lol.

- I’m not doing a first come first served way, moreso the fun asks. So feel free to drop as many asks as you want.

- no nsfw! Horror art is fine to ask for, but I don’t do risqué material.

- don’t get into shipping wars please god

- this is a poto centric blog, so please ask for only things related to that.

-Lastly, be kind. I am not a glorified ai bot(I’m actually a worse one(kidding kidding(or am I 🤖🤖)))

[bittersweetorpheus]

☆ LIFE, DEATH, AND REBIRTH ☆

☆ AUTHORS NOTES ☆

(This ended up getting written from Dottore’s POV. The God featured here is reader.)

😋 SACRILEGIOUS DOTTORE X DEITY!READER ???!!!!

I know I’ve been going for M.O.N.T.H.S but I came back to drop this and leave again. I was chatting with a dottore bot on character.ai which got my brain juices flowinggg so I had to open my computer and write this!

P.S: a certain part of this fic was inspired by one of hoyoverses other games *cough* HONKAI STAR RAIL *cough* 🤭. The real ones know which part it is ‼️💪

☆ CONTENT WARNINGS ☆

Death, gore, corpse, body horror aspects, sumeru archon quest spoilers

Dottore would admit that he wasn’t the least bit religious. Unlike the families that would give thanks before each meal and the Tsaritsa who believed Celestia should be struck down for trying to gain authority while You were absent, he couldn’t care less.

Afterall, however powerful they were, Archons could still die, so what was the difference between them when they all succumbed to the hands of death in the end? Was it power? No, he, himself, had created a being powerful enough to host the Gnosis of Kusanali, the Dendro Archon. Was it their life span? No, he, himself, had managed to create doubles of himself, all from different points in his life.

So in short, he didn’t spare a thought for the Archons, left alone The Creator. This, of course, did not help his nefarious reputation by any means, but he spared it no thoughts.

He did however grow curious about the abilities about this so called Creator when rumors about their descent started. Now, he finds himself in his main laboratory in the Tsaritsa’s palace with The Creator sitting on the examination table across from him- mind you, the cot that he had stained with blood just a week or two ago.

Now that he thinks about it, he never got around to cleaning it.

“Well?” The voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at them.

They wear a veil made out of a material he’s never seen before. Its sheer enough for him to make out the outline of Their face if he squints, but not more than that. Their clothes are made of the same material and seem to flow and move on their own, as if gusts of wind are constantly blowing at their garments.

Even if They aren’t The Creator, they’re definitely something far from mortal.

“Your blood is certainly unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if you melted cor lapis and combined it with crushed star sliver, but it glows like lumenstone. I wonder if it has any affect on organisms of this world, or if it just looks like this and nothing else.” He observes.

They chuckle dryly, “why don’t you drink it and find out?”

He grimaces beneath his mask, he’d rather not chug down a nefarious bodily liquid at 2 in the morning from someone who he dosen’t care much for.

Not that They were unattractive, of course. He would go far enough to say They were probably the only one who made him take more than a few glances at. No hard feelings, he just dosen’t care much for The Creator… or fakers.

They seem to pick up his feelings about what They just said and glide down from the examination table.

“Or would you rather I show you some properties of my blood myself?” They ask, pointing their intricate fan towards the corpse of his previous patient across the lab from them.

That fan had gotten Pantalone and Ningguang into an amusing biding war against each other, each hoping to gift it to The Creator. In the end, The Creator caught wind of it and ended up setting up a business meeting to stop the nonsensical month-long biding war. They left with a blush on their face and both several times richer. Apparently The Creator had managed to get them to get along and turn the business meeting from about one about a fan to an important business meeting that helped both of them build important business connections with each other.

“Give me the vial,” They command.

He’s already walken over to Them and given Them the vial before he realizes what he did.

They pour the vial of their ichor over the corpse and it springs to life in an instant, screaming and moving away from Dottore.

It seems like the people they revive retain their memories, Dottore notes.

“Are you satisfied now? Or is there something more that you’re expecting?” They ask him. He can’t see their face through the veil but he gets the uncanny feeling that they’re staring straight through his very soul.

“I’ll admit that this is quite fascinating, however, it’s… unexpected, to say the least.” He admits.

“Oh? Why is that?” They drawl.

He gets the feeling that they’re probably smirking right now.

“While some legends do say that The Creator’s ichor heals and even resuscitates people, most them say that even a drop of The Creator’s ichor could bring about the cataclysm.

Once, he had wondered if that had been the start of the cataclysm, or if it was just another fabrication.

“Hm, is that how this world sees my ichor?” They hum, “well, every universe has different theories about me.”

“Oh? Then is it true? Can a drop of your ichor cause the end of this universe?” He says, teasingly, or mockingly- he dosen’t really know either.

“It depends on the mood I’m in,” They reply.

Yeah, They’re definitely smirking right now.

“But I suppose with the type of person you are, you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes,” They say, snapping their fingers, “come, my darling Zandik.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. That definitely caught him off guard, all right, however, what catches him more off guard is the portal that appears in his lab.

He takes one last glance at his laboratory. This chance only comes once in a life time, after all. Even if They aren’t what They say They are, at least he’s getting some entertainment out of this.

He steps into the portal after them. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever ridiculous saying there is, but he’s in one piece when he steps out of the portal.

He gives himself a quick glance over. No new limbs sprouting from his body.

He takes in his surroundings. He seems to be in a universe with buildings that look similar to Liyue’s but with flying ships and surrounded by more advanced technology than he can take in.

“Look.” The Creator commands, pointing to guards dresses in what he would assume is this world’s armor.

On a side note, they’ve arrived on a huge tree overlooking the middle of a battle.

Some soldiers crouch with their hands over their heads. Looking closer, Dottore can see branches sprouting from inside their armor, (their bodies?), and growing outwards. Slowly, they all collapse and become afflicted with the same condition as them, sprouting foliage from their bodies with a grotesque scream.

Sensing his confusion, The Creator launches into a story.

“Not many people know this, but I don’t create the universes and worlds all by myself. This world was a case where I got bored and decided to create another god, or Archon, as you call them in your world, to have them shape this world instead. Whilst they was shaping this world, they grew more and more attached to the mortals in this world. They approached me and told me that everytime a mortal that he loved past away, their heart grew heavier and heavier. They begged me for a sample of my ichor, believing that if the mortals started drinking my ichor in place of water, they would remain immortal and everlasting, just like me. I warned them of the risk but he stayed adamant. I loved them, so I gave them my blood.” The Creator seemed to wilt in sadness. “Instead of being ‘gifted’ eternal life like they thought the mortals would be, the mortals became struck with a curse where, when they died, their body would start decomposing like it would a normal dead one, but they were still alive. In a last ditch attempt to save their people, the god sacrificied themself to me, hoping that their sacrifice would convince me to help their people. I buried the god in the earth we’re on right now, and the power imbued in the earth was the cause of the foliage growing from the mortals… or immortals now, I suppose.”

“Dottore stayed silent for a few beats after their story, “then if you’re The Creator, will you ever die?”

“It depends on what your definition of ‘death’ is,” The Creator replied, “I’ve died millions of times, over and over again and will continue to do so, but then again, I’ve also never died a single time and will never die. I am not the god of life, death, and rebirth, I am the concept itself. Everything comes from me and everything will return to me in the end because I am everything.”

The Creator slowly removed their veil, and reality itself seemed to break the more of Their face that They revealed. They looked him in the eyes, and it felt like he was looking at everything and nothing at the same time. He could see the void in their eyes, a place of nothingness, but also everything that was happening in the universe at the same time.

They put their veil back on. “Well, did that satisfy your curiosity, my darling mad scientist?”

Dottore could feel his heart speed up, an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest- Oh Creator, is he religious now? Well, whatever he might be now, he thinks hes not so against drinking nefarious bodily liquid after all.

[itsabouttimex2]

I've been brainrotting on your LSO au so much and the bot is very fun to mess with. I've been brainstorming angst comfort, etc in my head, and I gotta ask

If Clover met Monkey King, and asked him to train them, since the Monkie Knight is, ahem, 'postponing' their training, would Monkey King do it? If he did, would MK find out? How would he feel about that? Especially since one of Wukong's way of training is just to throw them into battles

I don't know if this counts as a request, or a question, so take it as either!

Let’s Start Over:

Second Option

(Part One) (Part Two)

“I’m not mad at them,” the Monkie Knight hisses into the phone, gripping the metal tightly. “I’m not mad at them. I wouldn’t go to confront my own student if I was still mad.”

Mei giggles from her side of the line, lighthearted and airy. “You sound mad, dude.” The sound of metal clinking and fire hissing emanates from the background- she’s probably getting her bike worked on. “Like, super mad. Like you’re about to blow your lid.” Even after a full decade, she hadn’t lost her sisterly teasing and frequent ribbing.

“I’m not mad,” MK repeats. “I can’t be mad at Y/N. I did the same thing when I was a kid.”

“But you’re calling them by their first name, though?! You only do that when you’re mad, MK!”

“Or when things get serious. And if my kid might be in danger, then things are serious.”

“…promise you won’t blow up at the kid, alright? They came to me for advice before running off, so it’s not like they were running around recklessly.”

He’s not surprised to hear that. You had dubbed his best friend as “Auntie Mei”, and frequently went to her for help that he couldn’t provide, or information that he might be a little embarrassed to provide. Not that the Monkie Knight wouldn’t sit through an awkward chat about bodily functions or crushes with you, of course. Just that Mei was much better at it.

“I swear, Mei. Clover is just a kid- making the same mistake I made. I’m not gonna get mad at them. I’m worried sick because I haven’t seen them since yesterday, and they weren’t

“They’re… the kiddo’s out at that new burger place with the Monkey King.”

“…with who? With who?”

“Look, I’ve got the restaurant cam pulled up right now- I’m making sure nothing happens. They just ordered their food.”

“Nothing is happening?”

“Nothing,” she reassures. “They’re just treating the kid to a meal.”

“…thanks, Mei. Talk to you soon. Friday?”

“…yeah. Yeah, Friday works fine.”

MK smiles, just a little. He’s gotta be better for you. No letting his close relationships fray. He can’t set the example that fighting and living alone is acceptable. You need to learn to rely on others, so he has to put his best foot forward with at least a few people.

He has to be better for you.

———————————————————————-

“Aww, you’re the sweetest! But I’m not sure MK would want me doing that, bud. He’s pretty insistent on teaching you without help.”

You look away from the Monkey King with a sigh, focusing instead the basket of fries in front of you. You haven’t had much of an appetite recently. Lunch was especially miserable, given that your mentor insisted on big meals to promote proper muscle growth and high amounts of energy.

“Oh, don’t look so down! Look, MK’s just trying to do what’s best for you, alright? If he’s putting your training on hold, it’s probably what’s best for you. Here, lemme see your wrists…”

Sun Wukong takes your hands gently, turning them over to observe your still-bruised skin. His thumbs drag reassuringly across your knuckles, offering some small comfort.

“You haven’t even healed yet, kiddo. MK is just a little worried still, okay? He’s got your safety in mind, trust me. That’s what all of this is for.”

His hand drifts over one palm, the seal crackling into sight. And though a slight frown mars his exuberant face, the king fights it off to reassure you.

“I’m sure things’ll get better once you’re all fixed up, okay? You can bear with it a little longer- I know you can, Y/N.”

“Of course they can. They don’t have a choice.”

Both of you whip around to see MK stood near the table, his foot tapping impatiently. Arms folded over his chest, the man leans forward to meet Wukong’s eyes.

“Any reason you’ve got my kid miles from home without telling me, Monkey King?”

Though he expects to see anger, Wukong finds worry and exhaustion on the man’s face instead. Sleepless nights and long patrols.

Maybe it’s time the king stepped in, huh?

“Hey, hey- let’s talk outside, alright? No arguing in front of the kid.”

The simian leaps over the table with a fluid start, clearing it without trouble. He lands easily in front of a very unamused MK.

“…fine. Outside. As for you- I want to see you at least halfway through that basket by the time I’m back inside. Do not make me say it again.”

Folding under your mentor’s stern tone, you snatch a handful of the greasy appetizer and a condiment package, tucking in without a word. MK tries to remake the best out of even a bad situation- getting you to fill your stomach after a long period spent rejecting food makes him a little less upset about the whole thing.

“Are you mad?” Is the tentative question from between your lips.

“I’m not mad. Stay here and eat, Clover. Can you do that for me?”

With a nod, you return to the basket of fries, grabbing more packages from the end of the table. He’s angry (somewhat) at Wukong, not you. He wouldn’t still be calling you ‘Clover’ if he was.”

The Great Sage doesn’t have the same worried and upset expression- he reaches put to ruffle his old student’s hair, grinning ear to ear. With a lopsided smirk, he hauls MK away from the table and out of the burger joint.

And though the renowned Knight wants to launch into a lecture, or maybe even get physical- Sun Wukong interrupts his intentions with a big hug.

“I missed you, bud! I’m glad you’ve been doing well, huh? Sorry I haven’t been staying in touch with you!”

The hero freezes for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of warmth and unconditional support. God, when was the last time that he was just held? He really should be tearing into Wukong for taking you so far from home without permission or notice, but… it’s so hard to focus on anything but just how right the world feels at the moment.

“You… you need to leave a note next time. Or- or send a text. I worry. You know that I worry about everything.”

“I know,” the king chuckles, holding the knight like he was still a kid. “I know, bud. Just take a minute to catch your breath. I’ve gotcha, MK.”

“…you’ve got me?”

“Always, bud.”

MK allows himself to go slack, collapsing in the warm arms of the sunny simian. Wukong hauls him back inside, waving to you with a smile. He props the man against your side and slides into the booth with a hearty laugh, slowly rubbing his back.

“It’s gonna be okay, bud. Everything is gonna be okay.”

If he were less tired, less worried, less “running on four hours of sleep”, MK might have not believed him. He might’ve put up more of a fight. But his head is foggy, his limbs are already limp.

So MK puts his trust into the king once more, and chooses to close his eyes.

And for just a moment for the first time in months, maybe years- his life is peaceful.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi! You have a really cool blog and have been getting me into indie RPGs, so firstly just thanks :) But anyway, any RPGs that could work well in a play-by-post format, even if you'd need to homebrew or hack it a little? Online friends on the other side of the world are a beast.

THEME: Play-by-Post.

Hello friend! So I haven’t done a lot of play-by-post games, but I’ve tried it out once or twice. I think in many cases, you might not even need a ttrpg in order to do online roleplay; I’ve played in Star Wars pbp that used the FFG system, but I’ve also seen Star Wars forums that are completely text-based and host their own wikis on information that’s been established in their world to keep track of what's happened so far.

That being said, I can understand having a framework to help guide you, especially if you enjoy the structure of traditional ttrpgs. The possibilities of playing these games by post are vast, although I'm noticing that most of the old forums have migrated over to Discord these days - and Discord makes things like rolling dice so easy, so it makes sense!'

If you're converting a ttrpg that uses dice into something that is play-by-post, you'll have a dice-bot, while if you're using a game that has no dice, or is a little more free-form, then that's one less mechanical piece that you'll need to worry about. Other considerations will likely be things like where you put character sheets, whether the game will be organized in a West Marches format or more like a traditional story, and how often players will be expected to write up what they're doing.

All of this is to say that the following recommendations are just the tip of the iceberg, really. Some of these are designed for play-by-post, while others are just games that I've seen out in the wild before.

Lords of Creation, by Five Points Games.

Lords of Creation is a rules-lite cooperative world building game with a focus on the Divine. Players create Divinities and populate a fresh, open world with a focus on myth telling and lore. The game is intended to be played via Play by Post, allowing players to run multiple societies, factions and elements at once.

Five Points Games clarifies in the game text that this game isn’t really their brainchild, but rather the culmination of play-by-post roleplaying on old WOTC forums. It’s a game about divinity and world creation, and each “turn” of the game takes place over the course of a real-time week. I think this gives a lot of time for each player to be involved in each step of the game, as well as providing in-universe ways to manage players who no longer participate, or who need to stop playing for one reason or another. Lords of Creation is also GM-less, allowing everyone to participate in a partial player, partial GM-style role.

Yowl! What A Strange Hotel, by Zargo Games.

Yowl! is a reviewing service that allows customers to rate establishments from 1 to 6 stars and tell the important details of their stay in a handful of paragraphs. This game is about telling the story of a particular establishment, in this case a hotel, through a series of Yowl! reviews. Reviews are from a different perspective each time, and should reveal something interesting and unusual about the hotel. Is there a dark secret that the hotel is hiding, or is something even stranger going on?

Yowl! looks to be designed for a shorter length of play. Together you will create a strange hotel, and then take turns leaving reviews, letting little pieces of information contribute to a larger story-line as you go. I think this is a relatively simple way of playing by post, although it relies mostly on each player’s creativity, as the game doesn’t come with any prompts.

World /Chronicles of Darkness Games (currently published by Onyx Path).

The World of Darkness franchise is a beast, and has been fuelling play-by-post form play for decades. There’s a number of reasons this collection of settings has been so popular.

It’s focused on factions and politics, which means that a large number of people can join in and fill out various political groups and start plenty of drama with each-other. Because the drama is so juicy, dice rolls can fade into the background. (I don’t think that stops you from being able to use it in a small group though!)

It’s got oodles and oodles of lore, but it’s set within the real world, so players can use something like Google Maps to create a fantasy version of a real-life city, and it provides a solid frame of reference.

It’s been around for a long time, which means that there is so much in terms of resources and advice that you can look at, such as the Onyx Path forums, or the WoD Discord Server.

The Chronicles of Darkness games are specifically designed to be cross-compatible. Changelings, Hunters, Vampires, Werewolves and more can all interact in the same universe - as long as the GM is on board with it. Most of the base rules are the same, with some tweaks for each splat, so if you have some players that really want to play a werewolf, while others are more interested in becoming mages, you can combine the two no problem!

Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine, by @jennamoran.

The Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG is a dice-less RPG from Jenna Katerin Moran, author of the well-regarded Nobilis and an important contributor to Eos’ Weapons of the Gods and White Wolf’s Exalted RPG.

Pursue fabulous quests. Progress through Issues. And find a place for yourself in a world of breathtaking beauty.

Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine doesn’t require dice, but rather asks you to role-play through scenes and spend points in line with your character quests. You gain XP for the experiences your character has, the way they interact with other characters, and the steps they take to move towards completing their quest. Because character advancement is dependant on role-play, I think Chuubo’s is a great way to prompt interactions in a play-by-post setting, and character advancement is both a compelling reason for folks to participate and an engine that feeds the storytelling machine.

The rulebook for this game can be a bit of a big read, but there’s a starter adventure included, with pre-built characters to help you get going.

Kids on Brooms and Teens in Space, by Hunters Entertainment.

Kids on Brooms is a collaborative role-playing game about taking on the life of a witch or wizard at a magical school you all attend that uses the “Powered by Kids on Bikes” system, first used in the award winning Kids on Bikes. Kids on Brooms is a rules-light storytelling system that takes you on magical adventures.

Teens in Space is a space opera RPG that uses the “Powered by Kids on Bikes” system. Teens in Space is a rules-light storytelling system that takes you into the cosmos for adventure and profit.

Both of these games use the teen-horror inspired game Kids on Bikes. Since these games rely heavily on polyhedral dice, I think setting up a discord server that also has a dice bot is the way to go with this one. You can choose a character from archetypes provided in the books, or create your own piece-by-piece. Different locations could be represented by different Discord channels, and since these games seem to work really well in regards to mysteries, I think a GM could focus on putting clues in different locations for characters to find, allowing the characters to slowly piece together a mystery over time.

I think Kids on Bikes is a kind of game that is going to require a lot more work to replicate as a play-by-post game than some of the other games on this list, because characters will need to roll dice in order to get things done, and it's best used in a small group. However, one thing I think really works well for these systems is the relationship questions that you roll on to determine how your characters relate to each-other. It gives you a connection right from the get go, and it can give the players something to work with while they're finding their feet.

Belonging Outside Belonging Games.

As a rule, Belonging Outside Belonging games don’t require dice, and as a common feature, BoB games don’t usually require GMs either. Characters are typically organized into playbooks; tropes or classes or collections of abilities that both define characters and make it easier for new players to find their rhythm. These playbooks will come with three categories of abilities: things that you can always do, things that require a token to activate, and things that reward you with a token when you do them. These games also usually include the setting itself as a playbook, or a divided series of responsibilities handed out to each player.

I can imagine a play-by-post form of game moving between descriptive scenes and active scenes, with players alternating between introducing elements of the setting / narrative obstacles; and describing how their characters react to these new events. (I've also seen this kind of thing happen on a Wanderhome server.)

Some Belonging Outside Belonging games that sound interesting to me are Lunar Echoes (a solar punk hack of Wanderhome), Geese at the Beach (chaotic water fowl looking for shines), and Capitalites (urban Asian young people trying to figure out who they are).

I hope you found this useful!

[starliights-shining]

Bayverse drift, crosshairs, Optimus prime, and lockdown

Reaction to their gn cybertonian s/o, who's shorter n smaller than them, just easily carrying him??

He's injured or something so reader just.. picks him up with ease and I'm honestly very interested of what the darling's reaction would be

Yes, yes, yes, and yes! I love Bayverse so much, it far too good for this earth. Also, I took Crosshairs out, simply because I just can not write for ever and i feel like no matter what way I go I fuck up his personality. Anyways, hope this is what you were looking for! Enjoy :)

Pairings: Bayverse! Drift x Reader, Optimus Prime x Reader, Lockdown x Reader

Warnings: Lockdowns a little spicy but nothing to NSFW,

Drift 

Drift is up against a building, holding his side as he attempts to stop whatever bleeding is happening. The rest of the autobots were off fighting, except for you. Your small frame, being seen from across the road behind that building. You were on your hands and knees, optics scanning the sky for cons, and then your helm peeking from around the corner, he watched as you got up a bit, it looked like you were about to sprint and you did. When it looked safe, you ran across the road, servos covering your helm as you made your way to him. 

“Hey Handsome!” 

You said, a smile on your face as you scanned him, servos moving him to take over the process. He watched as your medical training kicked in, you were not a fight, no you were never a fighter. He remembers asking why you didn’t have a weapon. You soft laugh reaching his audials as you put your servos up in front of you, while saying something about medical equipment being your weapons. He remembers this moment why you're trying to stop him from dying. 

“We gotta get you out of here,” 

You grabbed his servo and placed it over the work you did, patches over the wound.

“Hold here, I’mma pick you up” 

You went into position, hands in the spots to pick up the mech. You watched as his optics grew wide. You picked him up, like it was nothing and started walking away. 

“Alright Handsome, I need you to keep talking to me. Can't have you fall asleep on me.” 

He knew you were right, but he was too stunned to speak after you just casually picked him up, and started walking like it was nothing. 

It had been a while, you had him back at a safe distance and with the other team members. You were almost done fixing him up, your optics focused on his wound, but his optics were on you. You covered the wound and smiled at him. 

“Ya gonna stare all day, Handsome?” 

You watched his optics look away, before he spoke. 

“No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be able to pick me up.” 

You laughed, you servos on your hips. 

“It’s not that hard to pick up a mech.” 

His shock was funny to you, you’ve never seen him this surprised before and it was in fact funny. 

Optimus Prime 

He’d fallen, the fight not lasting long for the bot. As for your small servos are already making their way over Prime’s wounds and trying to find a nice spot to grab for easy lifting. 

“What are you doin!” 

Prime’s voice loud over your helm and the sound of gunfire and occasional shouting from both sides. 

“I’ve gotta get you outta here.” 

Your servos grabbing at his plating, and practically throwing him over your shoulder. He was originally trying to stop you from moving him, but you easily lifted him into the air. Servos held him close to you as you moved swiftly back towards Ratchet. His movement stopped, when  you moved to put him down, his blue optics stared into you. His face mask was still on, but you could tell by the way he stared, he was shocked. Your small frame build, able to carry him like he was a small child. You simply smile on your face, as you lean in to kiss his forehead. 

“Can’t have you dying on us now Optimus.” 

Lockdown

You looked up at him with an evil stare, of course he’d attack your height the second you two got into it. He stared down at you as if he could easily handle you, and that was far more upsetting than him calling you short or small or petite. 

“Something upset you?” 

You just squint your eyes, your servos formed in fist. He was also so, you can’t do anything but medic things, you're weak. He was starting to get on your fucking nerves, and it was showing. You turned away from him, and walked away. 

“Don’t wanna talk anymore, what happened to that fighting spirit?” 

He was mocking you, his helm turned upwards as he watched you walk, walk your pretty little frame a good distance away before you threw him the bird. 

“I have a saying, I don’t care.” 

That might have been the first time you thought you just man handle the neutral mech, His rude words about you being weak, and not worry of your power. It wasn’t until after the humans let Prime get away that you finally had enough. The human long gone, your servo came up to push his helm away. A grunt in return from your actions, he didn’t have time to register your actions, as you were already grabbing at his waist. Picking him up over your shoulder and throwing him towards the wall of the ship, a short distance away, he was shocked, optics scanning your face plating as he thought. Your helm still turned up to the mech. 

“Say something one more time, Lockdown!” 

He could finally see why you were a part of the Decepticons, that brute strength of yours. He wasn’t surprised, you were small, it looked like you could barely hold your own against a normal sized bot, but you just manhandled him like you were Optimus Prime himself, he had no reason to be shocked, he pushed you to this moment. This moment of upsetness, he saw how upset he has you, and it lit something within him, something you’ll see in just a few clicks. 

[in1-nutshell]

ANOTHER EARTHSPARK REQUEST SINCE THERES NOT MUCH!

So, I wanted a terran bot buddy that kind of acts like Rumble, kind of- since I wanted to see Soundwave becoming their dad2 and the minicons being their adopted siblings unintentionally lol

And I meant unintentionally, maybe they met sometime before the “Decoy” episode, which leads a bit of an angst thing since I also wanted to see the minicons a bit shocked seeing Buddy being with the autobots

Oh!

Oh... this is going to be fun...

On a serious note though, where is Rumble? And where's Ratchet?!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Terran with the personality of Rumble meeting Soundwave and the minicons

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronain (terran) reader

TFE

Buddy was one of the livelier Terrans between Twitch and Thrash. Defiantly the hardheaded one.

Having a mini rover as their alt mode, Buddy often liked riding around in the back blasting whatever tunes that were on the radio or on their playlist. And being the smallest Terran also had its perks.

“Have you seen Buddy yet?”--Robbie

“I’ve looked in the barn, and garage.”--Thrash

“I flew over by the cows, no sign of them.”--Twitch

Twitch looking at Bumblebee, who’s leaning against the barn door.

“Have you seen them?”--Twitch

“I don’t see them.”--Bumblebee

Twitch groans before looking back at the group.

“They couldn’t have gone that far, they know they aren’t supposed to go out of the fences.”--Mo

“…But what if they did?”--Twitch

“They wouldn’t do that… would they?”--Thrash

“We need to find them before dinner’s ready.”--Robbie

“How much time do we have for that?”--Twitch

“15 minutes.”--Mo

“…”—The Maltos

They all spread out to go look for Buddy.

Bumblebee looks around for a bit before tapping the barn floorboard.

Buddy pops out of there filled with dust and some cobwebs here and there.

“You know you should go and tell them where you are.”--Bumblebee

“Nah, this is revenge.”--Buddy

Bumblebee looked at them curious.

“Revenge?”--Bumblebee

Buddy picks off some of the cobwebs off their arm.

“Thrash didn’t catch me during our trust fall exercise and Twitch decided to take me flying. She knows I hate flying.”--Buddy

“What about Robbie and Mo? What did they do?”--Bumblebee

“I… I honestly don’t remember…”--Buddy

Buddy suddenly feels sad and extreme worry.

“…”—Bumblebee and Buddy

“…You should get back to them.”--Bumblebee

“I should get back to them. Hey guys! I’m here!”--Buddy

They definitely had a bit of an attitude, but they were fiercely protective of their family.

They were not afraid to throw their servos at anyone who decided to hurt their family in any way shape or form.

No one was going to mess with their brothers and sisters except them.

When they first met Autobots, he felt weirded out by their prolonged stares.

Especially Megatron’s.

Buddy wanted to ask, but they never got around to asking.

Mainly because they were looking after their siblings while also doing the stuff they liked.

Buddy accidentally dropkicks Thrash during training.

“Oh! Sorry Thrash!”--Buddy

Bumblebee coming to Thrash and Buddy.

“Rumble you can’t just dropkick—”--Bumblebee

“Rumble? Who’s Rumble?”--Buddy

Bee freezes a second.

“Forget what I said. Just no dropkicking during training.”--Bumblebee

Buddy raises an optic through their battle visor but lets it go.

Buddy had fallen behind the group when they were introduced to Arcee and went to go and find Bumblebee.

They blamed the speed of their alt mode for not being quicker.

Buddy came out of the woods transforming and landed in front of their siblings ready to fight the other minicon.

To their surprise, all three stopped at the same time.

They looked… shocked.

Buddy in battle stance.

“Listen I don’t know who you guys are, but you better leave me and my siblings alone.”--Buddy

“Rumble?”--Frenzy

Buddy falters their stance a bit.

“Who’s Rumble? I’m Buddy. You know what never mind. Just go away!”--Buddy

The three snap out of it and charge up a sonic scream at them all.

Thanks to a catchy tune the scream stopped.

Bumblebee came from the ridge and started fighting the minis.

Buddy saw one of them charging a scream at their teacher.

“Bee look out!”--Buddy

Buddy took the hit instead and flew off the ledge to the battle below.

“BUDDY!”—The Maltos and Bumblebee

Buddy hit a couple boulders on the way down and ended up falling on the side of the battle. Their pede got stuck on some rocks rendering them immobile.

Arcee went to go and see Buddy, but the rocks were still pinning her down.

Optimus tried to go but got tossed to the other side by Soundwave.

Soundwave and Megatron were now in a stale mate servo locked in place.

Megatron looked quickly where Buddy was. They were still trying to get their pede out from the larger rocks angrily muttering.

Soundwave looked were Megatron was looking and his grip nearly faltered.

The minibot rubbing their helm with a pede stuck on some rocks looked so much like…

The sound of rocks crumbling was heard above Buddy as huge chucks started falling.

Buddy looked up in fear at the rocks starting to come downwards.

They felt more fear from the link from their siblings.

Oh no their siblings…

What was going to happened to them?

What was going to happen to their family if they got squashed?

“BUDDY!”—Megatron and Optimus

Soundwave threw Megatron to the side and sprinted to the minbot, throwing the rock from their pede, snatching them, tucking them safely into his chest compartment and ran out.

A couple of larger rock did hit him, but he made sure to protect the compartment with his frame.

Soundwave heard the frightened screams from inside which pushed him to get out of there quicker.

The last big boulder made him trip onto another pile of rocks.

He landed on his back, servos crossed his chassis and laid there for a bit.

Everything was quiet.

Soundwave slowly sat up in pain and opened the chest compartment.

Buddy spilled out into his arms.

Buddy just stared, shivering from fear, at the larger Con that had just saved their life.

They noticed that Soundwave’s servos started to shake too.

They gently patted them as he set them down next to him.

“Thank you—”--Buddy

Megatron tried to snatch them up, but Soundwave grabbed Buddy’s servo tightly.

“Soundwave, while you’ve done an admirable—”--Megatron

“Rumble.”--Soundwave

The bots freeze a bit.

“Where is Rumble now Megatron?”—Soundwave

“Soundwave—”

“Where is he!?”--Soundwave

With That Megatron yanks Buddy out of his grip and Arcee kicks him in the face, falling unconscious.

“Buddy?”--Megatron

Buddy buried their face into Megatron’s neck cables shaking like a leaf.

“I—I want to go home now… I want Mom and—and Dad.”--Buddy

Megatron can only hold tighter as he walks them over to their siblings.

Later that day, Buddy would try brushing the feeling of fear for of the dents they were going to have to explain to Dot to their siblings.

Robbie and Mo seemed less convinced than Twitch and Thrash, but they didn’t press more on the matter.

Dot and Alex were more concern with Buddy nearly getting crushed, but Buddy reassured them that they were fine and now had a cool story to tell.

Truth though was that they were far from fine.

They were terrified.

They were terrified of that name.

The name that had been bouncing all around today.

The name that everyone seemed to associate them with, but they didn’t even know who they were.

The name.

Rumble.

[chip-does-stuff]

Things I’ve noticed and/or thoroughly enjoyed seeing from watching Megamind eight times over the course of six days

Megamind has such a crush on Roxanne before he even steals Bernard’s identity

Hal gearshifts in midair while saving Roxanne during the midnight flight

Roxanne looks like she genuinely feels bad after slamming the breaks on the way to the school house

Megamind is incredibly good at hiding giant, smoke-producing blimps in midair (invisibility cloak???)

You can see projector lines in the observatory from a brain-bot

Minion and Megamind consistently switch back and forth between older sibling and younger sibling roles

There is a brainbot with lipstick and eyelashes

The way Megamind comments on Roxanne’s hair during their date gives me actual butterflies

Hans Zimmer wrote the MOST AMAZING LOVE THEME FOR ROXANNE AND MEGAMIND AND I WILL NEVER GET OVER IT

Roxanne’s absolutely dumbfounded look when Megamind compliments Metro Man’s music

You can hear so much glass shattering every time Tighten destroys a building

Crazy Train is clearly Minion’s favorite song and I respect it entirely

The way Megamind calls Roxanne’s name when he saves her from the alligator room is weirdly sweet (maybe I just have a crush on him)

Minion has a little antenna on his back that I assume lets him control the suit

Megamind immediately steps to protect Roxanne when Tighten sees past his disguise

Is the warden a father figure for Megamind??? Like obviously he’s a crap father if that’s the case but like, is he???

Roxanne runs up behind Tighten with a street sign in hand to defend Megamind while he’s crawling to the invisible car

Megamind’s hurt look when Bernard calls the dehydration gun “cheap”

When Roxanne rejects him, Megamind winces with every accusation (and I genuinely feel so bad for both of them like ow)

I love Megamind’s and Tighten’s themes, they’re both reminiscent of lullabies, which is a fun choice for the villain characters

Roxanne has a picture of the design for the diffuser gun hanging in her apartment when she’s trying to figure out Megamind’s plan

Megamind still has his custom baby seal leather boots on during the Tighten fight

Have I mentioned the music enough? Because I’m trying to figure out some of the themes by ear on the piano and the music is decently complex. It’s not insane, but it’s tougher to figure out than a lot of music.

“Lyrical Magic” is credited as an actual song in the end credits

Megamind’s face when Roxanne admits to looking back is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen and the way the camera follows his face is really well done

The use of lighting changes for ambiance or passage of time can be really subtle, but honestly just amazing

My dad thinks I will get sick of this movie pretty soon, seeing as I’ve watched it once or twice a day whenever possible, and he is seriously underestimating just how much I am in love with Megamind. My mom has given up calling me weird. I’m also using my uncle and aunt’s peacock account to watch it over and over, and if they’ve noticed how often I watch it they haven’t said anything.

Next week I try to beat my friend’s record of watching her comfort movie twenty times in one week.

[pimosworld]

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary-Frankie comforts you during that time of the month.

CW-Tooth rotting fluff,mentions of sex but no smut, Frankie being the best partner anyone could ask for. Reader is not described but has a period every month, pet names, mentions of blood (of course).

WK-898

A/N- inspired by @beefrobeefcal he’s not quite chubby but he’s Frankie nonetheless. It’s so hard for me to write while I’m on my period because the cramps make me lose focus but this definitely helped in some placebo effect way. @triplefrontier-anniversary

Not beta read

At your service

Frankie rolls over to find your side of the bed uncharacteristically cool for a Saturday morning. Sleeping in and cuddling until you had to pry yourselves out of bed was one of your favorite rituals on the weekend. It’s too early and the only light illuminating the room is leaking out from the bottom of the bathroom door. 

  He can hear some sniffles and a groan and he’s throwing back the covers in a panic as he leaps out of bed. He tries the door and it’s locked causing him to panic even further. 

  “Hermosa, you okay in there?” His voice laced with concern echoing through the wall. 

  “Don’t come in Frankie…it’s a murder scene in here.” You groan to yourself again as you hear him try the door handle again. 

  He quickly realizes what predicament you’re in. He should’ve known your period was coming. You’re like clockwork each month, and instead of subjecting him to your dreaded pms you tend to shut yourself off the days leading up to it. Trying to stay busy at work or telling him to hang out with the guys so you can rage in peace. It’s still something you’re working on after all these years with him. Not understanding that he’s going to take the good with the bad and not be like your shitty ex who would make snide comments about your time of the month. 

  “Honey, I’ve seen much more blood than whatever you’ve got going on right now.”

  “I beg to differ.” You whine and he tries not to laugh, that would most certainly not make the situation any better. 

  You finally open the door and he’s met with the most pathetic site as you stand there with fresh tears in your eyes and one of his large tee shirts draped over your body. He’s only seen deeper frown lines on Santiago. 

  He pulls you into his chest as you try to wrap your arms around his larger frame, your body goes willingly limp as he rubs your head and rocks you back and forth. He’s so warm and smells like fresh laundry and you swear your hormones play evil tricks on you each month because you’ve never wanted him more than when you’re on your period. Despite his endless hours of showing you how much he appreciated your body and your mind and whatever else came with your emotions, you still weren’t comfortable having sex during these few days. 

  You had once or twice before with Frankie but he never pushed you if you weren’t feeling up to it. 

  “Vamos hermosa, let’s get you back to bed.” He kisses your forehead and waddles you to the bed, tucking you safely under the covers. “I’ll grab your heating pad and some water.” He kisses you again and you go tight lipped trying not to cry. 

  “I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as more tears spill and he pulls back from you visibly confused at your reaction. “We were supposed to go to the beach for Benny’s birthday.” 

  He tuts and pulls you back into him mumbling into your neck. “I don’t want to go to the stupid beach and get sand in my ass anyway.” Your wet laugh rumbles against him and he can breathe a small sigh of relief. 

  ****

  You can hear him in the hallway on the phone as he returns from downstairs. 

  “You owe me anyways pendejo, I covered for you last week, remember?” 

  You can hear him rest his head on the bedroom door as he huffs out. 

  “Ben, it's been way too long, you need to learn some Spanish…I gotta go, promise I’ll make it up to you soon.” 

  He opens the door with an arm full of way more than two items. He sets down the water bottle with fresh ice and dumps the rest of the contents on the bed. You giggle at the sheer amount of items but cover your mouth when he sends you a warning look. 

  He sets up your heating pad and explains everything down to a tee just like the military man that he is. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much he enjoyed taking care of you so those arguments stopped early on. 

  “I’ve got your sleep mask you left on the couch, you should get some more rest.” He hands you some pain medication and your water and you take it obediently. “I’ve also got a snack for when you wake up.” He sets the granola bar on the side table along with your phone charger, before turning off the bathroom light and rejoining you in the bed. 

  You can hear him warming up his calloused hands as he rubs them together under the covers before draping them across your belly. The only time of the month you’d allow him to rub your belly. Something he’d allow you to do to him everyday. 

  You’re perfectly content again as you resume your Saturday morning cuddles with the love of your life. 

  “Frankie?” You ask sleepily as he hums behind you. “What did you cover up for Benny last week?” 

  “Go to sleep hermosa, sweet dreams.” He kisses your neck as he pretends to start snoring and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside you. 

  “Fine, you keep your secrets. You’re lucky I love you.” 

 “Te amo tambíen.”