#you got demons and robots

[nemo-draco]

Thinking about Sci-Fi and Fantasy

Robots learning about ghosts, demons, etc., etc., and taking precautions for those just as seriously as you would any other hazard.

Robotic or automated ships, with either a few ghosts of their own, or having a slight fear of ending up like old stories, ex: the Mary Celeste.

Extra precautions put into electronics and robots to keep them from being shorted out by the presence of magic/energy manipulation.

Robots swapping stories about supernatural beings and occurrences along with their human friends.

Weird stories about space, especially given that I can see robots being used for tasks too dangerous for human personnel. The robots or AI having a stronger sense of honesty when it comes to documenting these stories, and their senses having literal logs to back them up, would make for an interesting body of evidence.

AI that control certain ships and facilities having clear protocol when it comes to a supernatural event. Perhaps they might've thought it was extraneous, and then something starts to happen...

Dimensional tears? Odd ripples in time and space? How does something like a robot, or an AI, react? Do they try to protect the humans with them? Or would they prioritize their own safety? Would it impact them physically, or would they be unharmed? Would that be contingent on whether or not they have organic parts?

Would there be cross-species friendships, so to speak, where you have AI or robots engaging with supernatural entities/creatures?

Might add more to this. Just interesting to think about.

[scopophobia-polaris]

about to be annoying but id love to hear about your au sksw link and zelda and all of that.. ik they arent at all in the comic but i enjoy hearing about how you portray characters its fun!

Terrible news Sky Link and Zelda aren't that fleshed out tbh.....I don't have much for them and I wouldn't know what to say that's like....interesting.

[incomprehensi-bull]

man. i need to get around to playing ultrakill

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Pt. 1

You couldn't help but anxiously fiddle with the hem of your dress as you sat beside Simon, one of his hands resting on your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel. "It's going to be fine, sweetheart. They're going to love you." Unsure, you glanced up at him, a frown on your pretty face. "Are you sure? Maybe they'll just see me as an inconvenience that will keep you from them in the future. Or maybe they'll-" Simon interrupted you as he tightly squeezed the fat of your thigh, a possessive growl leaving his throat. "They'd never. Trust me." With a sigh, you nodded. And he was right.

From the moment you two walked into the same dingy pub where you first met, the others treated you as if they'd known you for years, and you were a part of the friend group. The entire evening, you laughed and drank, Simon's hand constantly on you. At least until he left to go take a piss and smoke a cigarette.

The moment you were alone with the three men, the Scottish one leaned across the table, a gigantic grin on his face. "So? How did ya two meet?" The older one quickly pulled the Scottish one back, a scowl on his face, as he regarded his team member, but there was a certain hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

You chuckled, thinking back to the day.

Excitement cursed through you as you stepped out of the cab, your phone in your hand as you watched your best friend type. But the moment she sent her message, the excitement dissipated. "I'm so sorry, but I can't make it! I'll make it up to you though!"

You rolled your eyes, glancing at the sign of the pub you were standing in front of. She couldn't have let you know before you made your way there, could she? Inside you, two demons started to fight. One yelling at you to go back home and gulp down an entire ice cream pint. The other one calmly stating that you were already here and should at least get a little bit wasted. Before you knew it, the calm demon had won and you walked into the pub, quickly finding a place at the bar. But you noticed him immediately. Sitting in a dark corner, his face almost completely hidden. And very obviously staring at you. It didn't matter when during the evening you turned around, his eyes were always on you. At first, it creeped you out, but before long, you felt warmth spread through you. You almost felt protected, his obvious attention keeping all the usual creepers at bay. So, you decided you at least wanted his number.

But when you paid for your tab, hoping to be able to join him at his table, you watched as he stood up and walked outside. As quickly as you could, without tripping over the air, you rushed after him, finding him outside, leaning against a wall. After taking a deep breath, you started to walk over to him, but he immediately pushed off the wall and started to walk away. Were you really this repulsing?

Before doubts could start to fill you, you called out to him. "Uhm, I'm sorry, Sir?" He stopped and slowly turned around to face you. With a small and hopeful smile, you crossed the distance. The closer you got to him, the more you could really see him. While the lower half of his face was hidden behind a black surgical mask, you could see the top of his cheeks. And they were red, practically glowing with heat. Adorable.

"I'm sorry, I hope this isn't too direct, but I wanted to ask if I could have your number? You're really handsome and seem like a nice man. Of course, it's okay if not, I don't want to pressure you or anything. I-" You stopped, your eyes wide as you watched his entire body trembling slightly. Like a robot, he slowly stretched out his hand to you. Your eyes focused on it and you watched for a few beats as the trembling only got worse. Then, you quickly pulled out your phone and handed it to him.

Once again moving like a robot, the man slowly plugged in his number, his hands trembling bad enough, that you thought he would drop your phone at some point. When he handed your phone back, you looked down and saw that he had also put in his name. But it was a mix of upper and lower cases, making you chuckle. You grinned up at him and pocketed your phone. “Thank you…well…have a good night.”

You turned around and walked a couple of steps before his shaking hand on your elbow stopped you. “U-Uh…uhm…eat? Uh now?” His voice was shaking even more than his hands and he kept stumbling over his words, but when he got the question out, you couldn’t help but nod with a smile.

“And yeah, that’s it.” The Scottish and the pretty one immediately burst into laughter, slapping their thighs and each other, while the older one just smirked, slowly shaking his head. You looked at them, confused. “What…?”

“What did I miss?” Simon slid into his chair beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders. His friends immediately started to tease him, recounting points from what you had just told them. Immediately, the blush was back on his face, and you couldn’t help but chuckle along. At least until his hand came to rest on your thigh, and squeezed tightly. Oh, you were in for a night.

A/N: Here we go! Part two and the real story all wrapped up in one! Hope you like it! Edit: Re-upload because I forgot to add tags... :)

@skeletonsucker

[acerby]

Cockpit Gimmicks

I love a good control system for mecha and wanted to share some of my favorite control gimmicks I have seen so far in gundam. NTD: FUCK Conventional control systems, harness the power of space autism.

I love the gimmick of psycho frames. Like who cares if your mecha swallows your mindsoul look at the RBG colors.

Alaya-vijnana: Spine friends. Also, don't worry the thing you're now attached to is totally not a demon. Trust us.

Plug that shit into my veins, real cool how you can just have an open-back USB port to your mecha. What is cooler than being spinel friends with a massive metal war Machine? Why is my nose bleeding?

Mobile Trace System: The patient zero for a lot of anime fans growing up to develop a latex fetish.

I love the over-the-top nature of G-gundam and having a gimp-suit-Kinect-controller for your Wrestle robot adds so much charm to the show. Also Domom and Rain are the only ones who seem to struggle with putting in on (minus the horse). I think they're into it…

Also, shout out to the Zero System from wing. Got to midmax the ptsd of your child soldiers as much as possible. Tell me some of your favorites. From Gundam or otherwise would love to hear it.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 25

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 24 | Series Masterlist | Part 26

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: You want to feel normal after your ordeal, but change won't happen overnight.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, crying, assault aftermath, inner turmoil, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Can you believe it has been almost here since we started?! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby and @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up earlier than you expected, but made no move to get out of bed. Your body felt stiff when you tried to sit up, which was to be expected since Clark threw you to the ground pretty hard. Being prepared for it didn’t stop you from tearing up. You blinked the tears away when you realized Bucky wasn’t in the room.

You barely said a word after you left the club, and you didn’t protest when he held you close in the car. It was like he needed you in his arms to chase away his remaining demons, and you needed comfort as well. But once you were back at the penthouse, he led you to the guest room instead of the master bedroom. He let you be while you robotically went through your nighttime routine. And he didn’t make a move when he got in bed beside you.

“I just want to make sure you get some sleep,” he told you, his hold tender instead of smothering.

Before you sleep took hold, you heard him whisper that he loved you.

Had he snuck out during the night, or did he get up not too long ago?

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand that Bucky graciously plugged in, you were glad you were alone. You didn’t want Bucky or any of his men hovering while you called Mrs. Crandle. It was bad enough you were calling in when you just wanted the sense of normalcy and control in your life, but what were the chances you’d make it through the day without breaking down?

You held your breath when you dialed and waited for Mrs. Crandle to answer. It didn’t take long. “Hello, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Crandle,” you tried to smile, but there were already tears in your throat. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“You are never a bother,” she promised, which only made you feel worse. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I…” What were you going to tell her? “I’m dealing with something very personal right now, and I don’t… I don’t think I can work today. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were dealing with something personal. It didn’t stop you from feeling like you were letting her down.

“Oh. Oh, dear. You take the day off, and don’t worry about finding someone to cover for you. I’ll take care of that,” she assured you, knowing you weren’t the type to make excuses to skip a shift.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, that’s your business, but is there anything I can do to help?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. She was so kind, always looking out for her staff. “Just… keep being the wonderful boss and person you are.”

“Oh, I will. And you tell that man of yours he’d better be helping one of my favorite employees with whatever’s going on,” she said.

A laugh almost came out. If she only knew. “I’ll tell him,” you said, sitting up straighter when you remembered something. You were concentrating so much on ther other things last night you had forgotten that Zemo met up with her. How could you forget about that? “Before I hang up, I wanted to ask. Did you win an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo?”

“Why yes, I did! Can you believe it? The man I spoke to actually contacted me this morning to make sure I was still going.” You gripped the phone tighter. Zemo had promised to back off, so why continue the charade of the expo? Unless it was legitimate, and letting Mrs. Crandle go was part of the olive branch to you. “I was going to ask if you possibly wanted to go, but if you’re dealing with something-”

“Then it’s probably best that you bring someone else,” you finished for her. “I understand.”

“It would be nice if you could go. I think you’d like Gotham,” she said, making your heart drop. Gotham, where Clark wanted to take you. “But we can discuss that later. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will, thanks.”

You put your face in your hands once you hung up. It was all supposed to be over. You hoped it was. Mrs. Crandle deserved only good things, along with everyone you cared about.

You went quickly through your morning routine, and heard chatter once you finally went into the hall. You stood still, torn between eavesdropping and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. Your curiosity got the better of you and you tiptoed down the hall toward an open door- Bucky’s office.

You stopped when you heard Curtis speak.

“You really think she’ll go for that?”

Go for what?

“You’ve already been keeping an eye on my girl from a distance, but she needs a bit more. She needs a real bodyguard,” Bucky replied, your eyes wide. A bodyguard? How the hell would you explain that to your friends? “Last night proves it,” he added with a bite to his voice.

“Why not Ray? From what I’ve seen, she trusts him,” Curtis said, which was true to an extent.

“I could have Ray be her bodyguard, but then I’d need you to be by my side and we know you don’t like being at the club,” Bucky pointed out. “You barely tolerated being there last night.”

Why did guilt fill you? Was it because Curtis put himself in an uncomfortable situation because of you? If you hadn’t been attacked, he would’ve stayed hidden in the shadows.

“She may be grateful that he helped her, boss, but do you think she’ll want him as her bodyguard?” Ray asked. “Or that she’ll want a bodyguard at all?”

“If not Curtis, who else? It’s the best choice,” Bucky replied, which was met with silence. The men must’ve known not to argue further. “And whether she wants one or not, it comes with the territory.”

You exhaled through your nose. Comes with the territory whether you wanted it or not? It was too early for that shit.

“You know, for starters, it would really help if you all asked me,” you said, making your presence known as you walked in. Bucky stood up, alarm in his eyes, while Ray and Curtis looked at you with unreadable expressions from their chairs. “But I guess we’re right back where we started where what I want doesn’t matter.”

Was Bucky going to make you live the rest of your life like that? Would he dictate whatever he wanted while trying to paint it as doing the best thing for you? How could he call that love?

For a moment you thought Bucky looked upset because you were eavesdropping, but he rushed around his desk to you and you knew that wasn’t the case. “Kotyonok, you should be resting.”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” you asked, stiffening only for a moment when he got closer and reached for you.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. Bucky wasn’t Clark. He wouldn’t throw you to the floor. He wouldn’t try to choke you.

“I did, and we will talk about that. I’m just glad to see you still have your spirit,” he smiled softly, slowly framing your face with his hands. Your spirit was both itching for a fight and begging for rest. “How are you feeling?”

“Stiff,” you admitted. A bath in that wonderful soaker tub of his would hit the spot, which you would take advantage of later. “But I don’t need any painkillers before you ask.”

He frowned and dropped his hands. “Lay down,” he urged, nodding toward the sofa a few feet from his desk. “It’s very comfortable, trust me.”

You huffed, but went to lay down as instructed. It was only because you were stiff and still tired. Before you could spread out on the sofa, Bucky took a seat on one end and patted his thigh. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Rest your head here,” he urged, patting his thigh again.

You snuck a glance at Curtis who looked like he was fighting a smile. Ray hung his head a little. “You want me to lay with my head in your lap in front of them?” you asked.

“They're going to see us for the rest of our lives,” Bucky said, tossing an arm on the back of the sofa. “Please, lay down.”

You blinked, remembering the night he broke in and sat waiting on your sofa like he owned the place. The darkness in his eyes, the smirk on his face. But now? He only looked like a concerned boyfriend.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, getting as comfortable as you could while resting your head in Bucky’s lap. You opted to curl up facing away from him so you weren't staring directly at his crotch.

Bucky caressed your arm, his touch featherlight. “Is this okay?” he asked.

You tilted your head back. He was asking if it was okay to touch you? “It's fine,” you replied.

You caught the soft smile he gave you before you faced forward again. It was strange how people called you Bucky’s queen when you didn't feel like one. What kind of queen curled up with a king in front of their council? Didn't queens stand tall and proud?

“You're thinking too loud,” Bucky whispered.

How did he know? “I think Zemo contacted Mrs. Crandle,” you said.

“He did,” Bucky confirmed, continuing to caress your arm when you tensed up. “You didn’t think I forgot about her, did you? I’ve had someone keeping an eye on her since Zemo met her up with her.”

You remembered. No one knew Zemo’s angle at the time. “But I didn’t…” You sniffled and felt Bucky’s muscles tense beneath your head. “I didn’t even ask about her last night.”

You asked about Lois and your friends, but not your boss.

“You were attacked and you’ve been dealing with so much. Last night was about getting answers for you and the fact that you went to the club after what you went through is nothing short of amazing,” Bucky said, refusing to let you blame yourself for any of it or let you argue. “Mrs. Crandle will be fine. Nothing's going to happen to her. Zemo just couldn't back out of the expo because it would've hurt or upset her, which would have upset you.”

“And he wants to stay on my good side after last night,” you guessed. So it was an olive branch of sorts. “It’s taking place in Gotham.”

That couldn't be a coincidence.

“Another possible way to get you out of the city, but there was no way to guarantee Mrs. Crandle would've asked for you to go with her,” Ray spoke up. “Not to mention Zemo would've had to handle her if you were missing, which could get messy.”

You shivered and Bucky suddenly had a blanket over you. It would've destroyed her if you went missing while on a trip with her, and your heart could hardly bear the thought of Zemo hurting her or getting rid of her. “So, she’ll be okay?” you asked.

“She’ll be just fine,” Bucky promised.

Your fingers curled in the blanket. “I’m trusting you, Bucky,” you whispered, hoping it was a promise he could keep.

His hand froze and you could sense the emotion in his eyes without looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Curtis?” you asked, his blue eyes meeting yours to acknowledge you. “I know you suggested Ray and I appreciate that, but would you like to be my bodyguard?”

Having a bodyguard was another step in the path of accepting your place in Bucky’s life. But if there were other enemies out there or anyone simply interested in using you as a means to get some of Bucky’s fortune, it was better to have protection. At least for now.

“I already-” Bucky began.

“I’m asking him and giving him a choice,” you cut him off. Yes, Bucky had his mind made up that Curtis would be your bodyguard, but you still wanted to ask. “I think I’ve earned that privilege.”

“Who am I to argue with my queen?” Bucky teased.

Curtis chuckled and you found yourself smiling a little. Even Ray looked like he wanted to smile. “Since you’re asking, the answer is yes.”

“Thank you, Curtis,” you said, closing your eyes. “Can we sort the details out later?”

“Of course,” Bucky replied. You had a feeling he would be the one handling that anyway. “You just need to relax.”

You were trying, but he was making you relax with him. “I need things from my apartment, like my bridesmaid dress,” you said.

“We’ll handle whatever you need so you don’t have to go back there,” Bucky assured you.

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was still him or his men going through your things, your memories. “I need other things. Stuff to bake the brownies, and things to make arrangements here.”

“Again, whatever you need,” he smiled. He’d probably make you a greenhouse on the roof if you asked.

“And I need to get in touch with Natasha so I can-”

“That doesn’t sound much like relaxing,” Bucky gently said. You huffed in response. Sitting around doing nothing wouldn’t do you any good, even if your body was screaming at you not to push it. “But I am arranging our movie and pizza night tonight, so that should help you relax a bit.”

You did agree to that the night before. “I think I want to go to the library,” you said. It was the one place Bucky said he wouldn’t enter without permission and none of his men were allowed in there.

You held your breath and waited for the argument, for Bucky to tell you to stay put. Instead, he carefully helped you sit up. “I’ll take you there and I’ll bring you something to eat, okay? You haven’t had anything yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” you admitted. You called Mrs. Crandle first thing and went to find him.

“Well, let’s change that,” Bucky smiled, helping you to your feet. Ray and Curtis began to stand before their boss motioned for them to sit back down. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, guiding you out and closing the door behind him.

You glanced back and remembered he had the door open while he spoke with Ray and Curtis. Had he done that as a way to build your trust, to show that he wouldn’t hide things from you? Was he going to make an effort?

Bucky stopped at the library door and kissed your forehead. “I’ll grab your phone for you, too, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, stopping when you took two steps in. “Did you stay with me all night?”

He nodded when you looked back at him. Had he held you? Kissed your forehead? Whispered to you to make any bad dream go away? “I wanted to make sure you slept peacefully, although…”

“You wish I’d sleep in our bedroom.”

His eyes lit up at the realization that you didn’t say his bedroom. “In time,” he whispered, walking away without another word.

You exhaled and went to select a book. Your fingers moved along the spines, recognizing some classics as well as modern titles. But you didn’t pick one, your eyes unfocused.

Curtis was going to be your bodyguard. Your life changed so much that you’d need someone watching you at all times. Would he hang around the shop while you worked? Would he linger nearby when you went out with your friends?

Could you even invite the girls to the penthouse?

You stood at the bookshelf long enough for Bucky to come back and clear his throat from the doorway. “Do you want me to bring the tray in?” he asked, holding it up for you to see. Not only did he have plenty of food, a drink, and your phone, he also had a bright flower in a small vase. It was sweet.

Shaking your head, you went to him. “I can take it,” you said, not wanting anyone in your sanctuary at the moment.

If Bucky was hurt by declining his offer he hid it well. It meant a lot that he kept his word and didn’t go in. That was progress. “You’re not okay, are you?” he asked, your eyes connecting.

You gripped the tray hard when you took it. “I’m just taking it one moment at a time,” you answered. It was all you could do. “Could you please shut the door?”

Bucky didn’t hide the hurt this time. It wasn’t just shutting the door, you were shutting him out. “Sure,” he whispered, the door softly clicking shut when you turned your back to him.

As you sat and ate, you let a few tears fall before you finally selected a book. You were unsure of the next steps, and you mourned, but you weren’t sure exactly what it is you were mourning. A piece of your innocence? A normal future?

Bucky, for his effort, gave you space when you refused to come out after breakfast, leaving your tray outside of the door and refusing to say a word to him. He brought you lunch as well, one of your favorites, and left you another flower and a small sheet of paper that read, “I love you, Kotyonok.” You thought about crumbling up the note, but you put it on the table with the flowers.

Every now and then you’d look around and swear that Clark was there watching you in the shadows. It was your mind playing tricks on you, of course, but you kept your eyes on the door in case someone tried to come in. You swallowed bitterly, hating how afraid you were. How would you conquer that?

The girls in the group chat all mentioned taking it easy today, which brought tears to your eyes all over again. They were taking it easy because they were exhausted, and they were exhausted because they were drugged. All of that because of you. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

No… it was not your fault. None of this was your fault. “It’s not my fault,” you whispered tearfully, gripping your head to quiet the taunting voice that blamed you. “It’s their fault.”

Everything in your mind swirled until it became a tornado, destroying everything in its path. It felt harder to breathe, like something was closing around your lungs. You had to calm down before you spiraled. You needed…

“Bucky!” you shouted.

You barely made it to the door when you heard footsteps race down the hall. The door flew open and Bucky stood with wild eyes, struggling to rush in and pull you toward him since you hadn’t told him to come in. “Kotyonok, what-”

“Tell me you won’t hurt my friends,” you demanded, a sob coming out when you pointed at him. You had to hear him say it. “Tell me.”

Bucky flinched when you gasped for your next breath. “I won’t hurt your friends.”

“Tell me it isn’t my fault,” you continued, shoving him back. You could hear Ray and Curtis in the hall, but you paid no attention to them. “Tell me what happened isn’t my fault.”

“None of this is your fault, do you hear me?” he said through his teeth, his anger directed elsewhere and not at you. “None of it.”

The spiral in your mind began to slow. “Tell me you won’t hurt me,” you barely whispered. “If you really love me you won’t hurt me.”

He made a wounded sound like you saying the words hurt him. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

Your shoulders slumped. You believed him, damn it. Why? “I’m sorry. I…”

Bucky waved a hand for Ray and Curtis to stay back before he extended it to you. “Come with me.”

You hesitated before you wiped your eyes and took it. You didn’t realize he pulled you toward the living room when the scent of freshly baked pizza and popped popcorn reached your nostrils. “What…”

Bucky had pizza, popcorn, snacks, and drinks set up along with blankets. “Our movie night,” he reminded you, guiding you to sit down. Had you been in the library so long that it was nighttime? “But before we do anything else, I need you to breathe.”

“Hurts,” you whispered. It hurt to think, hurt to feel, hurt to breathe. Why did it feel so hard today?

“I know it hurts, but you’ll get through the hurt because that’s how incredible you are,” he whispered back, pulling you into his arms to rock you. He breathed slowly, urging you to follow his rhythm. “There you go. Breathe. Good girl.”

You took another deep breath, ignoring how the praise relaxed you. “I didn’t bake today,” you said sadly. You wanted to make those brownies for Curtis. “I didn’t make any arrangements.”

You didn’t contact Natasha to set up those self-defense lessons. You didn’t figure out when you’d visit Lois. God, you didn’t even take that bath. Wallowing in self-pity led you to hiding in the library all day, but maybe you needed it more than you knew.

“It’s okay that you didn’t,” Bucky said, kissing your temple and wiping more tears away. “I know you want to bounce back immediately, but you have to give yourself grace.”

He was right about that. “I shut you out,” you said. You shut him out in his own home. Why? To punish him for his part in all of this? To be in control?

He sighed and only held you closer. “I deserved it,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “But we’ll be okay.”

He said it like he was fighting for you, for each other. “I just want to feel normal,” you said, giving him some insight into your thoughts and feelings.

“And you will. We’ll take it one moment at a time.”

A few minutes passed while he held you, and you eventually put your head on his shoulder. He held you so much in the last few days. You wanted to feel strong and not feel afraid anymore. You wished that could happen overnight, but you needed patience and grace.

And Bucky, well, he would need to accept his hand in this. He had to see you at a low point so that he’d never want you there again. He had to see you broken so you could build yourself again, with or without his help. Because if he wouldn't love and accept you at your lowest, then he didn't deserve you at all.

“So, what are we watching?” you finally asked.

“You said you wanted to pick the movie,” he reminded you.

He listened. He remembered. “Something funny,” you said. Something that wouldn’t upset you or make you think.

“Comedy it is.”

Bucky waited on you hand and foot during the movie, making sure you were comfortable while you ate. He had an arm around you when you weren’t eating, but didn’t let his touch wander. It took a bit, but you eventually laughed during the silly moments in the film, and he gazed at you like the sun rose in front of his very eyes.

You stole a glance after a few more minutes and found him staring at you instead of the screen. Unable to help yourself, you tossed a bit of popcorn at him. He blinked twice in shock while you tried not to laugh. “Did you just…”

“Toss popcorn at you? Yes,” you said, looking back at the screen before popcorn hit your cheek. “Hey!”

He licked the salt and butter from his fingers. “Oops,” he teased. “C’mon, Kotyonok. I had to defend myself.”

One second you were staring at each other and the next second turned into a full blown battle. Popcorn and candy went everywhere as you threw everything within reach and you found yourself laughing when a piece of candy landed in his open mouth. He growled and gently tossed snacks back at you, making you laugh harder.

It was ridiculous. Silly. Unexpected. It felt like… a real date.

“I’m not cleaning this up,” you giggled once the battle ended, gesturing to the mess. At least you didn’t spill any of the drinks. “And I think I won.”

“I have people for that, and we’ll call it a tie,” he smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Fuck, you have a beautiful smile.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He wanted to kiss you, you could feel it, but he didn’t lean in. He waited for you instead. You didn’t kiss his lips, you were still too raw for that today, but you did kiss his cheek before you put your head back on his shoulder.

“Thanks for this,” you whispered. It was only the first day since the incident, but he was trying and you had to give him that.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, leaning his head on yours. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

And resting in his arms like an actual date, you were blissfully unaware of the missed calls and texts from your mom.

Our poor girl. Let's hope Bucky keeps trying. And let's hope Mom's messages aren't a bad thing. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mediocreanomaly]

Rookie.

Cecil Stedman x Reader (GN!Reader, Age Gap)

Authors Note: Yes I'm a Cecil stan. No I won't apologize. There's just something about that old man's dry humor and morally grey decision making that enraptures me.

Cecil had stared down literal demons with a steadier pulse than this.

No, seriously, he'd experienced just about everything during his time on earth, kaijus, dead gods, alive gods, magic, mad science, fish people who, ironically, were pescatarian. Yet somehow, this is what shocks him.

“You don't want this, kid,” he sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples like he has the mother of all headaches coming on.

“You think you do, but you don't.”

The cocky mother fucker across from him just grins.

It's hard to pinpoint when exactly this had gotten so out of hand. With Rae, Rex, Rudy, Monster Girl, and Bulletproof gone, to say they were short a few guardians had been an understatement, and unfortunately, it had been Cecil who'd had to run the new tryouts. In the end only one really stood out, some local hero with the ability to steal other people's powers through touch for half an hour at a time. It wasn't much but apparently it used to be five minutes which suggested it could be extended whether that ended up being through training or the GDAs tech was yet to be determined but Cecil was desperate for a Hail Mary after his plan b and c against Mark had done jack shit and a temporary Viltrumite was as good as ever in terms of plans.

Looking back on it Cecil should have seen it from the beginning, the way the rookie had sat up straight like a dog waiting to impress its man with a trick when he'd walked in, but several of the others who'd known who he was had put on faces as well so he'd written it off as an attempt to impress.

The actual tryout had gone similarly; the little sneak had managed to get their paws on a few powers before getting into the ring and had made sure everyone knew it when a few training robots had nearly gone through the walls. Admittedly, Cecil had enjoyed the cunning; powers only got you so far if you didn't have the brains to use them, so it had been an easy call to green-light them onto the team.

Then things had gotten weird.

It had started with the training. Cecil didn't make it a habit to oversee every regimen; that's what Immortal was for, but he tried to stop in at the beginning of the month to see how the new members were settling in. When the rookie had noticed this, they'd begun showing up thirty minutes early and lingering late, purposefully trying to flaunt whatever flashy power they'd managed to snag for the session or showing off their new record for weights. Again, Cecil had begun wondering if they were attempting to brown nose their way into some higher position because it had at least become clear they were showing off for him.

It hadn't really clicked per se until a few months in when the rookie realized their golden ticket to seeing him was running reports to his office, a chore even Black Samson attempted to avoid at all cost.

Cecil should have nipped it in the bud; they'd begun overstaying their welcome as of late. He didn't do conversation, but God damn, the kid didn't give it a rest; they'd chatter on about how the guardians were, how their day had gone, about how great the GDA was. When he'd responded with varying levels of noncommittal grunts and ‘Do I look like your diary, kid?’ They'd begun a new approach.

Food, for one. Dropping off food with their reports because ‘there was no way he ate with his schedule’ which was half true but it didn't make it any easier accepting meals. Then they'd somehow managed to pick Donald's brain about interest of his and sneaking it into conversation.

‘I was just listening to Miles Davis the other day’ (they hadn't) ‘Ugh I could really go for a scotch right about now’ (they hated it)

What was worse is it had begun to work. Cecil didn't know why he hadn't told them to give it up and get the hell out of his office, if it had been anyone else he certainly would have but he was still a man at the end of the day.

It's not like he hadn't appreciated the occasional man or woman passing by before, but he was well out of his prime, not to mention too damn busy to even humor a one-night stand, much less anything regular. Besides, it's not like anyone really glanced his way these days, or they hadn't until you.

You had thrown some colossal-sized wrench into his life that he'd been trying desperately to ignore, which wasn't typically his style. Cecil was a problem solver at heart and saying ‘no’ to some green newbie on the team should have been one of the easiest decisions he'd made in a long life of hard calls. So why were you still sitting across from him and why was he still playing this game?

You pick up a stress ball off his desk that Donald had gotten him years ago (Cecil highly doubted he even remembered) and toy with it in your hands.

“You do know I'm not actually a kid right?” You retort

“You're still a kid to me, you're a third my age, rookie.” he watches the way you roll the ball between your hands, back and forth, back and forth.

“Put that down,” Cecil snaps, and you put it back on his desk, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Okay, well, I can consent is all I'm saying. Besides, you've been watching me too” you huff nonchalantly lounging against the seat.

Cecil stiffens at the accusation and sets his jaw in irritation. Watching you? Of course he had, he was the director of the GDA it was his job to watch you.

“I've been watching you because it's my job to make sure our new Guardian of the Globe isn't a liability” he answers cooly “Especially the reckless ones.”

That gets a snort out of you.

“Come on, boss, I've been on good behavior,” you say with a grin that drips with young cockiness and naivety and makes Cecil understand why he's losing hair.

It's irritating, both because you're a smug little bastard and because you aren't wrong. Cecil didn't need to look through your files or check in on the cameras to make sure you were getting on. All the reports said the same thing, a little rough around the edges in terms of discipline and skill but a very promising investment to both the team and GDA with great potential and a knack for following orders (especially when they came from Cecil himself).

“Plus-” you continue before he can lay his next words of disapproval down upon you. “-the fact you're even entertaining the conversation makes me think you're not as opposed to this as you're trying to make it seem.”

Ceci keeps his composure but internally, as much as he hates to admit it, you had a point. Despite all his reservations here the two of you were.

“Don't mistake tolerance for interest, kid.” he says a warning in his tone. “just because I'm listening to you does not mean I'm not opposed to this”

Your smile falters for a fraction of a moment before a new set of determination falls over you as you cross your arms.

“You're lying.” You cross your arms and fix Cecil with your own hard look forgetting the playful facade in favor of your own equally serious shift in mood.

“You barely let Samson talk about the weather but I get half an hour about jazz? I call bullshit.”

Cecil's eyes narrow at the accusation.

“I'm not lying I'm… omitting certain details.” He says crossing his own arms mimicking your stance, silently daring you to challenge him again.

“you mean the ones where you're interested in me?” You ask raising an eyebrow refusing to lose this little verbal tennis match.

“Interested is a strong word.” He replies cooly, but damn it all. Why did it sound like he was trying to convince himself?

“It's more… tolerating your relentless advances.”

And there it was, acknowledgment of the subject he'd been dancing around.

“Oh, so you have noticed,” you reply pleased.

Cecil fixes you with an unimpressed look, as if he could miss the outrageous peacocking that had begun to take place in his presence. His only saving grace had been the fact that no one in their right mind would guess who you were showing off for.

“That's good, I was starting to think it was going to waste.” You continue unbothered.

Cecil grits his teeth, torn somewhere between annoyance and grudging respect. The rookie had persistence if nothing else.

"How can I not notice you constantly showing off for me," he retorts "You're like a damn puppy. All eager eyes and wagging tail."

“For some reason…” you drawl leaning your elbows on his desk. “I feel like that's your type”

“My type?” Cecil lets out a short laugh, caught off guard by the audacity of the statement.

“I'm not sure you want to know ‘my type’, kid. It's anything but fresh-faced overly eager do-gooders.”

You shrug.

“Maybe. Or maybe you don't mind what sort of outlook or attitude you get so long as you're listened to in the end.”

You trail your fingers over the nameplate on his desk, tracing out the engraved pattern of ‘Director Stedman’

“And I've never questioned your orders, sir.”

Cecil's gaze follows the movement of your fingertip, trying to ignore the stir in his chest.

“You don't question me because it's my job to keep your naive ass alive.”

“Why are you pretending you don't want me?” You fire back.

“is it such a big deal if you feel a little something for someone?”

Cecil feels his patience thin at how easy you make this sound, like he's some handsome stranger at a bar and not the director of the god damn GDA.

“It's not about feeling, and it's a little bit more than a ‘little something’ You're like a damn virus, always there infecting my thoughts.”

He pushes away from his desk, fist clenching at his side like a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he was feeling inside.

You frown and furrow your brows at the man at the firm reluctance on the other man's behalf.

“Why are you saying it like it's bad? I've been thinking about you too you know”

A sharp laugh escapes between his teeth, harsh and humorless.

“It is bad, kid. This… whatever this is, whatever feelings you think you have, it's dangerous.”

Cecil begins pacing the spot behind his desk, his steps quick and frustrated.

“This isn't some high school crush, you can't just move on when you realize how wrong it is.”

You huff slightly insulted by the implication.

“I've put a hell of a lot of effort into this for a ‘high school crush’” you reply unimpressed.

“I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't serious”

“How can you be serious? You're more than half my fucking age!”

Cecil runs a hand through his hair frustration etched into every line of his face. Despite his better judgment, he could feel his ability to keep up the argument waning.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales.

“What could I possibly offer you aside from a life time of trauma and a constant reminder I'll probably die before you hit your fourties?”

You wrinkle your nose at the distasteful words.

“you're sixty, not eighty, plus I have money on the fact that you'll manage to outlive Omni-Man on spite alone.” you muse before letting your expression fall into something more serious.

“but honestly? I don't care about that. I like you. I mean sure at first I just thought you were attractive but-” you continue before Cecil can make a smart comment. “-you're competent. Like overly competent. You're witty in conversation and I know you care more than you let on. Let the others say what they will but I've seen the things you do for people's families and for their safety, maybe the job limits what you can do with that good but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'd like to know that man.”

“You make me sound like a god damn saint” he mutters eyes flickering to yours.

Your words had hit more then a few nerves whether he liked it or not. Ones that deep down… he knew had already begun to fracture.

You sigh and meet his gaze, unwavering.

“I get it more then you think. I'm young, not stupid... I won't pretend it'll be an easy relationship but I'm in it to try.”

You pause before adding, “and if it makes you feel better I like that you're an asshole too.”

Despite everything, an amused smile plays at his lips and with it a small pang if affection.

“You like me because I'm a bastard? That's a new one I'll admit.” he retorts, dry humor in his voice.

“what can I say?” You shrug “your general irritation is charming.”

You watch him carefully knowing that this was the make it or break it moment.

“... Would it really be so bad? You've given your life to the GDA, you could use something nice behind closed doors.”

Something nice…

He could feel his feet on the metaphorical edge of whatever leap was ahead of him. He was being worn down with your persistence but what was scarier is that he didn't really want to fight it in the first place.

“You know how how this would look right? The director of a top secret defense agency dating some rookie hero?”

You can feel it. The way you've got him snagged.

“I won't let it affect my work performance, hell I'll sign an NDA if you want”

“an NDA, how romantic” he scoffs but there's an undercurrent of sarcastic amusement at the idea.

Despite his barbed words, he appreciates the practicality. It was, after all, one if the reasons he'd been drawn in in the first place.

He let's out an exasperated sigh.

“... You're too damn stubborn you know that?”

You grin, already knowing you've won.

“I'll grab my pen.”

[lynns-bonkle-blog]

Stuff that actually happens in Bionicle:

Sexy snakes invent capitalism and then face severe regulation by a bunch of demonic mad scientists.

One of said mad scientists impersonated the mayor of a Frutiger Aero dystopia and put all of the citizens into The Pokéballs That Make You Smaller.

There are six fish-themed warlords with (for the most part) really on-the-nose names. They weren't always fish-themed, they just happened to be in a prison that became flooded with The Water That Makes You A Fish. Their main underling is a four-armed squid-man, who is naturally immune to The Water That Makes You A Fish.

The setting's equivalent of Hephaestus made a bunch of useful stuff, including but not limited: to the first six protagonists, the leader of the Bionicle CIA, some cool planes, and the Bionicle CIA's prison-warden robots.

One of the Magic Frisbees that are the central macguffins of the 2004 arc was stuck between the teeth of the Bionicle equivalent of The Bloop.

Some shark guys who were the antagonists of the 2006 arc got put into the Water That Makes You A Fish. They got turned into eels.

There's an entire group of heroes who were brought together to protect the mad scientist I mentioned earlier, then got turned into tiny lizard creatures by one of the sexy snakes, and they didn't get turned back until thousands of years later.

A random villager from an underwater city (which is directly next to the prison that got flooded with the Water That Makes You A Fish) was transformed by the main macguffin into said prison's jailer, who by that point had already been dead for several millenia after being shanked by the blue fish-themed warlord.

There's a substance called Black Fire, which isn't literally black fire. The CIA's warden robots are filled with (and presumably powered by) it, and can shoot it out of their giant impractical swords.

The Makuta devolution scene.

Bionicle Frankenstein's name can also refer to his private island and also a giant plant monster.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🛐 THEY WERE JUST TEENAGERS — AND THEY SAVED YOUR SORRY PLANET (A Blacksite Eulogy for the Original Mighty Morphin Power Rangers)

While you were crying over your overpriced Panera sandwich, while your parents were arguing about grass-fed artisanal pork, there were teenagers out there throwing hands with cosmic death witches.

Not grown men. Not Marines. Not government agents.

Teenagers. With SAT prep books in one hand and power coins in the other.

And they didn’t ask for permission. They didn’t file complaints. They didn’t demand safe spaces.

They got summoned to an interdimensional command center — and signed up for war in f*cking color-coded armor.

🛑 NO ONE GIVES THEM ENOUGH RESPECT

They weren’t trained assassins. They weren’t getting hazard pay. Half of them probably still had algebra homework they weren’t going to finish.

And yet —

While you and your emotional support latte were arguing about pronouns, they were out there spin-kicking mud zombies in the throat.

No Kevlar. No congressional backup. No antidepressants.

Just teenage testosterone, spandex, and enough inner rage to crater a moon.

💀 THE ENEMY ROSTER:

Rita Repulsa: Cosmic Witch Aunt with evil goals, a questionable skincare routine, and a vocal fry that could sterilize a goat.

Goldar: A winged ape covered in gold armor who sounded like he gargled motor oil every morning. (Respect. Goldar was a beast.)

Putties (or "Puddies" — who gives a shit): Literal clay zombies who showed up to every fight like crash test dummies with ADHD.

And how did the Rangers treat them?

Like discount punching bags.

Spin kicks. Flying knees. Dropkicks to the throat. They didn’t even need a full morph sometimes — just boots and bad attitudes.

🧠 YOU THINK YOUR FINAL EXAMS WERE HARD?

Try being 16 years old and having:

Zords to pilot

Death beams to dodge

Homework still due by Monday

And if you failed?

You didn’t just get a bad grade. You got vaporized by a space tyrant.

🛡️ NO COMMITTEE HEARINGS. NO PITY PARTIES.

They didn’t sue Rita. They didn’t file grievance reports with Zordon.

They threw hands. They flipped over concrete. They somersaulted over explosions that would liquefy most Instagram influencers.

They woke up, morphed up, and chose violence.

And they did it without adult supervision.

Because guess what? The adults weren’t going to save sh*t.

🧠 TL;DR

They didn’t have backup.

They didn’t get applause.

They didn’t have TikTok therapists dissecting their trauma.

They had helmets, flips, and fists.

You owe your 90s childhood to five high schoolers who said yes to the ugliest job offer in galactic history — and threw hands until the cosmos learned their names.

💣 CALL TO ACTION:

🔁 Reblog if you know the Rangers deserved hazard pay and a pension by 18 🦖 Save this if you ever wanted to Falcon-punch a Putty like it owed you lunch money 🛡️ Send it to the friend who still does roundhouse kicks when no one’s looking 🔥 Bookmark it if you know Zordon’s draft was the last time teenagers were built properly

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is Blacksite Literature™, mythological reconstruction, nostalgic rage therapy, and 90s child soldier appreciation protected under literary satire and cosmic battle doctrine.

If you’re offended: Go put on your training wheels and cry about it. The Rangers were out fighting moon demons while you were still asking your mom if you could watch PG-13 movies.

🛡️ BLACKSITE LOYALTY DRILL™

🛐 BLACKSITE CHALLENGE: “WOULD YOU HAVE MORPHED?”

Ask yourself:

When Zordon called, when Rita dropped monsters on your city, when your best defense was a dinosaur robot and a helmet:

Would you have fought? Or would you have begged for safe zones and vegan concessions?

🔥 Reblog if you know you would’ve thrown a backflip into the void ⚡ Save if you would’ve swung fists before filing complaints 📡 DM it to someone who forgot teenagers used to be dangerous

🛐

[vrystalius]

The best gift

It’s the best time of the year — gifting season! So, your husband decided to gift himself to you as a gift… how will they do it?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyuu x gn!reader

MDNI- Minors do not interact please! This is slight NSFW/very suggestive.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

After pondering and visiting all kinds of stores across Japan while he’s supposed to be hunting and slaying demons, Sanemi figured the best gift he could give you is himself. What more would you want besides snacks and your dear husband? But since it’s the holiday season, why not present himself like a proper gift.

Sanemi tried to bind himself with the help of thick ribbons, but one can only do a good job with one hand and under time pressure to get ready before you call him over to open gifts, so his appearance now looks more like a last minute thought rather than a carefully thought out plan to seduce you with him being presented to you like a beautiful gift you could use all for your needs, whatever they might be.

After binding his hands together, Sanemi slapped one last bow in the center of his naked chest (and a smaller one right above his crotch area) as a finishing touch and proceeded to seat himself next to the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, waiting on you to notice your impatient, half naked husband trying to appear alluring while also not being able to move too much without compromising the ribbons.

“What are ya waiting for? You want me to oil up as well or something?!”

Actually, thanks to the tape he used, after being freed and unwrapped by you, Sanemi got a very cheap hair removal job. You had to treat the burn marks while he fussed about them not being a big deal.

Kyojuro Rengoku

After taking Tengen’s joke about gifting himself to his wife for the holidays too serious, Kyojuro bought multiple packages of red and gold wrapping paper, sparkly ribbons and a large bow as a final detail. First, he tried to wrap every limb individually but realised that he looked like a very unloved robot with all the tube looking shapes and wrinkled paper, so Kyojuro tried again. This time, he wrapped himself whole and just kinda sat beside the decorated tree in the living room, looking like a sack of potatoes that was decorated by golden ribbons and bows. Despite his appearance, your husband was waiting for you to finally unwrap him.

Although he does feel slightly guilty for just making a scrap book containing all of your memories together that looks more like a toddler’s art project rather than a sincere attempt to eternalise the best memories of you two and then wrap himself in wrapping paper and present himself as your second and probably better gift.

But as you free Kyojuro from the paper prison he put himself in and help him get untangled from all the mess, he was delighted to hear you laugh at his ridiculous idea and unforgettable sight of Kyojuro being wrapped in wrapping paper with just his head being exposed.

“A-Ah, I’m glad you enjoyed… well, me! I suppose you can now whatever you like with me, I am at your complete service!”

Gyomei Himejima

Believe it or not, Gyomei’s first idea about gifting himself to you were a little less than innocent. You never knew about this, but your husband is actually quite knowledgeable when it comes to Shibari— a bondage method that is not just purely for sexual purposed but rather for the aesthetic appearance of a carefully and thought-through bondage of a body and the trust needed to submit to your partner. Thanks to Gyomei’s build and stature, it can be hard for him to submit to you fully, as he can easily and accidentally break free from any restraint, ruining the fantasy. But with Shibari it would be much easier, more intimate too.

Instead of making it a surprise that he himself is the gift, your husband suggested that you could bind him with deep red ropes while Gyomei instructs you on what to do in every step, together creating a beautiful art piece out of your husband’s body, the ropes deliciously highlighting his soft chest and relaxed muscle and made Gyomei shiver in delight multiple times throughout the process, sending all the excitement down to his groin.

By the end of tying him down on your bed (the link is from google and sfw), your husband slightly regretted giving up all of his power to you like never before, as you could now tease and play with him until he is in tears, although Gyomei wouldn’t mind that much. You just need to loosen the ties around his crotch a little, it’s getting very tight down there.

“Please don’t tease me too much, I’m not sure how much I can handle, pearl.”

(Normally, praying away the impure thoughts always helped with his bodily reaction, but you gently tugging on the ropes and being fully at your mercy awakened something in that man that was not possible to be prayed away.)

Giyuu Tomioka

He actually had no idea what else he could buy for you as a gift. Giyuu buys you a fresh batch of flowers after every mission, he cooks and cleans whenever he is able to, he gets you small gifts like trinkets, accessories and clothes throughout the year anyway, so what else can he give you? Standing inside a gifts shop stressed him out severely as he was worried about if you either already have the item he was looking at, if you really would appreciate this neat gadget he found or even like the cute plush he found.

Giyuu then just bought a ribbon and wrapped it around his neck and decorated it with a cute ribbon, then awkwardly stood in the door frame of your bedroom, trying to look at least a little alluring by posing slightly.

“This… is rather stupid, but I am all yours. Your gift.“

After standing there for a couple of seconds in silence, Giyuu sighed deeply and let the cringe overtaking his body.

“Never mind. I’m getting you something else.”

💠

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone!! I am back from my break and Demon Slayer brainrot found itself back into my brain after getting access to VR Worlds and joining a couple kny worlds as Mitsuri and my Douma cosplay arriving— I still need to style and trim it a little but I am SO EXCITED FOR IT!! Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well 🫶 I wish everyone happy holidays and a lot of fun, good food, wanted gifts and a warm home <33

Anyways, again, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough <3

Take care of yourselves <3

[lovetei]

PLEASUE GYARU READER WHOSE LIKE A LITTLE SHY Y'KNOW BUT WEARS THIS BOLD FASHION AND MAKEUP ?? WITH THE DEMON BROTHERS AND MAYBE DIAVOLO IF YOU WANT ?? I DONT MIND

I am so fucking tired

GYARU CHOU KAWAII

This is short, I'm sorry :((

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The characters reaction to a GYARU!MC whose sense of fashion is bold but their personality says otherwise

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, no proofreading, readers gender is not specified, gyaru is a japanese subculture and fashion style characterized by an over-the-top westernized feminine look and “frivolous” behavior like partying at clubs

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

"At first, I assumed they would be similar to Asmo considering their sense of fashion. Loud, party animals and high pitch voice. But then, they dropped her lip gloss and started quivering so much. They looked at us as if we're gonna eat them alive..."

He wasn't surprised by your fashion sense, let's be honest. Asmodeus probably dressed like that in the past.

And he's seen similar styles back then when he had to visit Tokyo

Though, your personality is the one that shocked him.

Once you get close, he'll even pay for your thrift store shopping spree and nail appointment

MAMMON

"The duality is insane. Theg got pink nails, glitter eyeliner, and just apologized to the table for bumping into it."

Let's be honest, leopard prints would look SO hot on him

So he probably dressed similarly to you before on some modeling gig, but maybe less intense

But these type of fashion is pretty common in Devildom, don't worry!

So he's so worried that... You're... So... Shy?

MC, you're wearing six-inch high heels that can probably kill someone, have some confidence!

LEVIATHAN

"They looks like a final boss but then theg stutters like a low quality NPC... When they arrived, I thought they will bully me when in fact, they're scared that I will bully them."

You both bumped intro each other one time

And then you bowed to apologize

The he bowed too

Then you looked up to look at each other.

You thought he looked mean, and he thought you looked mean

So you two bowed deeper

SATAN

"We met in class. They're wearing fishnets and a short skirt then asked me if they can sit in the back "so no one will notice them." I just sighed. Then, one time, they handed me a neon pink glittery pen to borrow then bowed like we're doing a tea ceremony."

At first he thought you're so shiny.

And polite...

Like a polite disco ball.

Though, he admires you fashion sense and personality

He wished he can compliment you but he's afraid you'll combust

ASMODEUS

"Girl, I saw their eyeliner and I know that took an hour and a breakdown. And their lashes is so long, it's so long it waves before they does. I commend them, it really takes a lot of guts to wear platform heels and still be nervous ordering in the cafeteria."

You're his discontinued dream

Oh please, wearing leopard prints, high platform heels, neon pink, and THICK eyeliner is his dream

But lucifer said it's too expensive to continue as an everyday fashion...

BEELZEBUB

"I saw them call a vending machine "Mister robot" while paying for a can of soda... Sure... Then I helped them open the can because they're having a hard due to their long nails and they said thank you so many times..."

He gets protective of you because you're so shy

He's always behind you so he looks like a bodyguard/jock bf of a mean bully vibed human

He's the type to eat chips on your bed while you take an hour to prepare for school

BELPHEGOR

"They're so bling bling I could see them through my eyelids. And her hails, oh those nails, they're always clacking on something like they're typing Morse code or something. Though, we vibe."

He always get flashbanged

Since you speak so low, he would always think he's dreaming of your voice when you're in fact trying to ask him something

He's probably emo back then so... No judge here.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Omg hii! I love your writing 🩵🩵🫶🏻 Can you make a soft and silly one where the reader is Si-eun’s sister and she’s albino?

Snowdrop Trouble

Characters: Si-eun (from Weak Hero Class), Reader (his younger sister, albino), and some cameos from Suho & Beomseok

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Found Family, Humor, Big Brother Energy

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your pale fingers barely grazed the bag of chips on the top shelf before Si-eun’s voice cut through the silence like a knife:

“Don’t climb the counter.”

You froze, mid-scramble, halfway up the kitchen cabinet.

“How did you even see me?” you huffed, twisting to glare at him. “You were in your room.”

“I have ears,” he said flatly, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the chips for you. He placed them in your hands without fanfare.

“You’re so annoying.” “You’re short.” “Genetic condition, dumbass—” “I know. I meant your patience. That’s what’s short.”

You snorted. Okay, that one was good.

You were born with albinism—white hair, pale skin, sensitive eyes—and a whole lot of drama from kids who didn’t understand why you looked like a human snowflake. Si-eun had been the first to punch someone over it when you were eight. He didn't even let you thank him.

“You’re not weird,” he’d muttered, tugging his bloody knuckles into his hoodie. “You’re you. And people suck.”

It was the closest thing to affection he ever said out loud back then.

Now?

He just grumbled when you stole his hoodie, blinked slowly when you spilled ramen all over his notes, and silently untangled your hair when you cried because it got too matted again from sleeping weird.

Si-eun had his own shadows. His own anger. But he never took it out on you. You were… off-limits.

Even to himself.

“Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Robot .”

He blinked. “What?”

You narrowed your pinkish eyes at him from across the living room. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re eating ramen with a fork. Again.”

“It’s easier!”

“It’s illegal.”

“...You wanna fight me over it?”

He sighed through his nose like a disappointed old man. “I would win.”

“I’m gonna tell Suho you said that.”

“…Never mind.”

You smirked.

Later that night, when the lights were dim and your eyes hurt (screens sucked after dark), Si-eun found you curled up on the couch like a snowball. You’d fallen asleep with your fuzzy hood pulled over your head and his textbook open on your chest.

He stood there for a long time.

Just staring.

Then, slowly, quietly, he bent down and lifted the book off you.

You stirred.

“…Si-eun?” you mumbled sleepily.

He froze. You rubbed your eye, squinting up at him with a lazy little grin.

“Thanks for always… y’know. Protecting me.”

He cleared his throat. “Go back to sleep.”

But before he could step away, you grabbed his sleeve. "Wait."

“…What now.”

You stuck your tongue out.

“You’re my favorite light mode demon.”

Si-eun stared.

“You’re… You’re the reason people turn on dark mode.”

You burst into laughter.

He didn’t smile.

But he did sit on the floor next to you. Letting your sleepy head fall onto his shoulder like it belonged there.

Because it did.

Extra Scene:

Beomseok: “She’s really pale.”

Si-eun: “Don’t say it like that.”

Beomseok: “No—I mean, she’s cool! She looks like a snow elf. Or, like, a K-pop vampire.”

Y/N: “I am a vampire. I’ll eat your soul.”

Beomseok: 😳

Suho, whispering to Si-eun: “She’s more terrifying than you.”

Si-eun: nods solemnly

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter four

synopsis: you and phosphorus cover for flag. and your "other personality" pays a visit.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, gore, blood, demon shit, reader might be a bit op but who cares.

"Are they fuckin' killing each other?" you scoffed, incredulously, as you pressed your pointed ear against the door with G.I Robot.

"Not too far off from what you sounded like an hour ago, sunshine," Phosphorus teased, reaching out to touch you.

"You wanna lose that hand?"

Instantly, your tail whipped up, its sharp edge pointing directly at his throat, Weasel letting out a whimper at the sudden movement.

The four of you were outside the bathroom, waiting for Ilana to finish patching up Flag's injuries.

Though, as made evident by the aggressive, obnoxious moaning, they seemed to have gotten side-tracked.

'Typical...'

Nodding, Phosphorus raised his hands in defense, smirking—unbeknownst to you.

"Message received."

"Have you seen General Flag?" Alexi asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

The four of you glanced at each other, before turning to face him with indifferent expressions.

"Uh, yeah, why?" Phosphorus shrugged.

"Because he should be informed that two of your teammates have left the grounds."

Your eyes widened, slightly, brow raising with confusion.

'The Bride... and Nina?'

You knew the Bride didn't give a shit, but you were surprised that Nina went along.

You never thought she would rebel, seeing as she seemed terrified to step a single webbed-toe out of line.

Not to mention, she had her little goody-two-shoes thing going on.

"Yeah, he's, uh, in there..." Phosphorus stood up straight, pointing his thumb toward the door.

But just as the captain was about to move forward, you stopped him, pressing your reddened palm into his chest plate.

"You don't wanna do that," you sighed, attempting to spare him from the sight of his princess in such a... compromising position.

"Maybe you should just give him thirty seconds," your skeletal partner agreed.

Alexi raised a brow, suspicious.

"I mean, you've seen the princess. I don't know how he could hold out for more than thirty seconds, do you?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as Weasel let out a soft squeak.

"Ah, you got a point, Weez," Phosphorus nodded, thoughtfully resting his hand on his chin. "He's an older guy... probably has a lot of experience. Give him a full minute."

"This is not funny. Why are you smiling?" Alexi ignored.

"Slow down, bigot," Phosphorus scoffed, pulling open his lab coat. "I'm a freaking skeleton. It looks like I'm smiling even when I'm not."

"You are not smiling?"

"Oh, I am... But you can't tell that."

Punctuating his sentence, the sounds of banging echoed from the door, followed by Rick and Ilana's moans

It went on for an uncomfortably long minute, but once it was over, Alexi let out a sigh.

"May I knock now?" he asked.

Phosphorus held up a finger, forcing him to wait as they started up again, only louder, the sounds making you want to smash your head into the wall.

'I was better off at Arkham...'

After Flag cussed you both out for waiting to tell him that the Bride and Nina had escaped, Task Force M left to go rescue them from Circe and the Sons of Themyscira.

But after you arrived to find that neither of them had been horribly harmed, everyone quickly realized their real objective was to leave the princess without protection.

Which is why all of you hauled ass back to the castle, and why all of you were currently charging into the battle-filled courtyard with Alexi's super-powered, armored truck.

Zooming forward, he mowed down a Son that was about to toss a grenade at the royal guards, dismembering the bastard on impact before coming to a complete stop.

The Bride exited the vehicle guns blazing, as well as Flag and Alexi, shooting down five of the Sons right out the gate.

With a sigh, you cracked your neck, exhaling deeply out of your mouth.

"My body is mine... it belongs to me... Shall Mahalat come running... I will force her to flee," you muttered under your breath, repeatedly, as you kicked off your boots.

'Arkham shrinks... don't let me down.'

Out of the team of psychiatrists tasked with keeping you mentally sane, one offered a simple, catchy mantra to help you keep your "other personality" under control.

Whenever you thought Mahalat was going to show herself, or forcefully take over, you were supposed recite it, as the words would keep her at bay.

It worked well enough in your cell—but, then again, you were heavily medicated, anyway, so it was hard to say for certain.

Rushing forward, you dodged the oncoming barrage of bullets from the group of Sons in front of you, completing forward flips, handsprings, and round-offs to build momentum before launching yourself in the air.

There, you attacked, using your tail to slash the eyes of the man in front of you before kicking him into another, the force so powerful that it smashed their skulls together.

Landing on the ground, you turned quickly, shooting a small beam of fire from your finger tip and meeting the oncoming bullet heading for your shoulder, completely destroying it as well as burning a pea sized hole within the man's brain.

Using your speed, you got in close to the three grunts next to him, punching the first one in the face with a flaming fist as your tail twisted the neck of the second.

When the first one tired to shoot, you swirled around, using the second as human shield while you kicked the third in the nuts, forcing him to his knees and thus low enough where your legs could reach.

Using your feet, you grabbed his face and the back of his head before violently jerking, snapping his neck all the way around.

But before he could fall, you ran up his face like a wall, using it to flip yourself back around as your tail let go of the second man's neck.

Landing on the first one's shoulders, you ignited your hands in flame, slamming your fists down on his head with a sickening thud and caving in his skull.

Though, you had little time to celebrate, as the raining bullets from the castle began to increase, forcing you to leap away and duck behind the fountain with the others.

"Are these Nazis, General?" G.I asked from his place standing up, seeing as he was bullet-proof.

With a smirk, Flag turned to him, giving an affirmative nod.

"Yeah, G.I... these are Nazis."

Breaking out into a wide smile, the robot retracted his arms and replaced them with guns, opening fire on the Sons of Themyscira with a look of absolute glee.

Though, it came to a surprise for everyone when his torso suddenly detached, some sort of hover technology allowing him to float high into the air, where two additional guns were added to each arm.

"Hit the deck!" Flag exclaimed.

Quickly, G.I began to spin, his bullets utterly dismembering every Son of Themyscira in sight.

'Holy shit!'

He looked so happy, so utterly relieved to kill Nazis.

It was adorable, and even you were fighting off the smile rising to your lips.

That is... until Circe appeared, completely destroying him.

"G.I!" Nina screamed as he exploded right before her eyes, his parts raining down on the ground below.

"Well, that's enough of that," Circe scowled, looking down upon you all before shooting a large beam of destructive, purple magic.

Quickly, you all dove out the way, just barely avoiding the attack as chunks of the stone fountain shot into the air.

"Is that magic I smell, o' pitiful flesh?" a terrifyingly familiar voice grinned within your mind, turning your blood to ice in an instant.

'No... no, no, no, no, no! Not now! Not today!'

"My body is mine, it belongs to me. Shall Mahalat come running, I'll force her to flee," you muttered, frantically, screwing your eyes shut with fear as you pulled yourself into the fetal position, hugging your legs. "My body is mine, it belongs to me. Shall Mahalat come running, I'll force her to flee!"

"(y/n)! Snap out of it! What's wrong with you?!" Flag barked as he glanced over his shoulder, shooting at a couple of the straggling Sons as he noticed you were laying down in the middle of a battle.

"Is she having a mental breakdown in the middle of a fight?" the Bride asked, going back to back with the general.

"I was told she was cleared for the field!"

"Stupid girl. You know better than I such a weak incantation cannot keep me at bay..."

"Shut up!" you spat, sharply, as you clutched your head. "My body is mine! It belongs to me! Shall—!"

"Enough."

With a choking gasp, she silenced you, forcing your body to float into the air.

Like countless times before, your pupils shrank to the thin slits of a snake, the others watching with awe and confusion as your limbs fell limply to your sides.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Your voice seemed to dubbed over by another, more malevolent one, and after the words were spoken, you burst into hellish flame.

Within this flame, large, red, pointed wings sprouted from your back, your horns growing larger, fangs extending, claws growing, and clothes tearing, leaving you in the tattered remnants of your leather pants and top.

Though, when you turned to Rick Flag, you were no longer you.

But rather the thing that's been haunting you since you since you first opened your eyes in this world.

Mahalat.

"Where has the witch gone?" Mahalat asked, her voice dubbed over yours.

Utterly speechless, both Flag and the Bride pointed toward the castle, where Circe had flown to attack Ilana.

With a bone chilling grin, the demon turned around, her large, strong wings propelling her quickly as she zoomed toward the princess's broken, bedroom window.

Free for the first time in years, Mahalat had only one thing on her mind.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

When she reached the two, Circe had her magical orbs drawn, ready to destroy an already beaten up Ilana.

In an instant, Mahalat flew forward, grabbing Circe by the neck with a sharp, burning hand.

She fought back with a scream, hands frantically clawing at the demon's arm as her throat began to cook.

"I wonder..." Mahalat smirked, her sharp nails drawing blood with her harsh grip. "Is the flesh of a witch as delicious as I remember?"

With a sick grin, she lifted the woman higher, allowing a few droplets of her blood to drip onto her face.

"It's been a millennium since I've had one in my clutches..."

With a malicious chuckle, the demon sank her fangs into Circe's shoulder, the sorceress letting out a blood-curdling scream as the meat was torn from her bones.

Muscle, tendons, and all.

Taking a moment to enjoy her new snack, Mahalat threw Circe out the window with impossible force, leaving her to fall onto the concrete below.

Out the corner of her eye, she glanced at the princess, who looked absolutely horrified, before flying after her dinner.

As Circe attempted to scramble away, Mahalat landed harshly on her back, the sharp claws of the demon's feet digging into the witch's flesh and keeping her in place as she was absolutely mauled.

Any available skin was up for the taking, Mahalat's claws and fangs destroying anything they could reach with a delighted grin.

And as she went to town on Circe's back, Phosphorus approached, lifting Circe's chin with—what everyone could tell—a sick grin

"I always love a good barbecue."

Pressing an irradiated hand into her face, she let out another bone-chilling scream, unable to do anything but sit there as her face was cooked alive and her back was torn to shreds.

From the distance, Flag watched, wide-eyed and thoroughly disturbed as the two before him tortured the sorceress, the realization donning on him pretty quickly that the both of you had gone incredibly easy during your fight in the kitchen.

"You wanted monsters... you got monsters," the Bride smirked, standing knowingly by his side.

"Kunus matez ka'am aluk baa nat su da (y/n)!" your voice finally managed to break through, stopping the demon in her tracks.

Pupils dilating, you snapped out of it in an instant—your wings slowly returning into your back, your horns shrinking, fangs receding, and claws disappearing—while still leaving you in your torn up clothes.

Quickly, you threw yourself off the witch, chest rising and falling rapidly as you snapped your head around, frantically touching yourself to gauge if it was really you, while also covering your practically bare chest.

That was the first time she'd taken over in over three years.

You hoped it would never happen again.

'What did I do?! Who did I kill?! Oh, God, I can taste blood?! Who did I eat?! Why did I—?!'

"Hey," Phosphorus's voice broke through your spiral.

Out of instinct, you flinched, but when you looked up at him, you realized he was holding out his lab coat.

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by his kindness, and you couldn't help but stare at him with suspicion.

What was the gag?

Where was the joke?

Why was he being so... chivalrous?

"Unless you wanna walk around with your tits out," he shrugged, standing up straight with a grin. "I mean, I'm not complaining—"

Quickly, you took it from his hand, throwing it over your shoulders and crossing it over your chest, avoiding all eye contact.

You weren't sure how or why... but he was doing you a solid, so you wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks," you muttered, standing up.

"You don't understand what you've done!" Circe awoke from her pain induced fainting with a gasp, glaring up at you all as Weasel, Bride, and Flag reconvened.

Your eyes widened even further at her injuries, a little sorry.

It was nowhere near the worst you'd done to someone... but still.

Attempting to gather her breath, she turned her sights on Flag, brows furrowing harshly.

"You've doomed the world!"

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'ALL YOUR EXES,

-THEPENGUIN!SOFIA FALCONE X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You attempt to ration with Sofia's jealousy.

⋆ tags/warnings. sofia falcone x female reader. POSSESSIVE BAHVIOR!! minor angst, lots of murder and rage (she's got some issues to work through) somewhat unhealthy obsession, reader comforting sofia <3 pre!arkham sofia.

♫ “I want to live in a world where all your exes are dead, / Be the only girl that's ever been in your bed / I'm confident I've got them accurately demonized / You tell me not to worry, I'm the only thing you see / Well, yeah, I fucking better be.” All Your Exes by Julia Michaels

You think you should be used to this by now.

You've mulled it over in your head, the implications of dating a mob family member. To you; Sofia was always just Sofia. The same girl you'd grown up with. Respectful, in a quiet and calculated type of way. With you, her smiles were always genuine. A slight twitch of the lips that let you know; she cares for you. You're different. Good.

Though, you didn't think she cared this much.

"Tell me you didn't." You say, swallowing. It's rare she comes over to your house, and not the estate. But there is a quiet buzz and intimacy your home captures that hers does not. You think she's always preferred it. "Tell me it wasn't you."

You look between her and the TV. You never pay much attention to the Gotham News. It's always the same; murder, robbery, more murder. But this...this murder was different.

The voice on the screen recites a robotic retelling of a body discovered in an apartment around your area. An apartment you'd been to many, many times. And the body of a girl you'd had more than few flings with in the past.

"It seems as though the Hangman has struck again. This time, twenty-two year old Sarah Parkins has been found deceased..."

You lick your teeth in frustration.

Sofia stands there. You watch her jaw clench, and she seems to swallow in return. Her whole body is taut as the drink she's cradling pauses before her lips.

She sets the glass down with a clink, and averts her gaze from you, as if she's lost in thought. Eventually, her hands fold neatly in her lap before staring up at you. Her facial expression doesn't change besides a subtle twitching.

She knows where this is going.

You'd known she was the Hangman. There were no secrets between the two of you, she'd made sure of that. Though she'd never explicitly stated it, it was glaringly obvious as someone who'd loved her.

"You were going to find out eventually." She finally speaks, nostrils flaring for a moment. She says it simply, like it's been an item checked off her to-do-list.

You gape at her. Despite the quiet monotone in her voice, she seems to be nervous. You glance down to her nails subtly scratching into her wrist.

You take a breath. Or two. Or three.

"Wha- why?"

"She was practically stalking you. Always watching you. She was going to get...involved...eventually. I did what needed to be done."

"Fuck." You mutter, under your breath. You let out a groan, sitting down next to her. You drag a palm across your face as you scan the TV.

"The cause of death seems to be strangulation..."

Having enough, you grab the remote and switch it off.

"You can't do that, Sof."

She breathes hard.

"She was a threat. I handled it. You are vulnerable. I do things you're incapable of to keep you safe."

The words come out with a mixture of indifference and quiet worry. You see straight through the subtle manipulation and choose to ignore it.

"I haven't talked to her in months."

Her eyes narrow, and she leans forward. Her hands find yours, attempting to tether herself to you.

"Are you not listening to me?" She stares deeply into your eyes. "I did it to protect you. To protect us. It's about sending a message."

She looks...raw. There is a fury burning behind her eyes, and an insecurity you can't quite place. You purse your lips, and grasp her hands in return. Her breath hitches.

"There...there were other women before you Sofia. You have to accept that. What's important as that we are together. Right here. Right now. And there will be no one else, ever."

You mirror her intensity, breathing out the reassurance. You feel her hands clench yours tighter when you mention the others. Her insecurities rear their ugly head within her, but she hides it well, keeping her calm exterior as she gazes at you with steely eyes.

"She touched you," Sofia whispers, barely audible, voice shaking with what you can only assume is rage and regret. The next words come out of her mouth tightly, bluntly, like a threat.

"Did you...love her?"

You inhale, and watch what you say. Without a moments hesitation, you respond truthfully.

"No. I've never loved anyone else like I've loved you. You should know that."

When you finish your small declaration, it's like the apex of a crescendo. Her body finally relaxes, and she raises her head out of whatever violent fantasies she was drowning in.

She stops holding your hand so tightly, and nods slowly in response.

She puts a hand against your cheek, softly drawling you in with a nod. She kisses you softly, like it's a reward for your fealty, but you know better. It's for her own reassurance.

She pulls away, scanning you over one last time. There is still a burning jealousy that engulfs her, and her voice is low and serious.

"We belong to each other," She recounts, "Loyalty is very, very important to me."

It's a warning.

"I know." You mutter, before drawling her back in for one more kiss to soothe her.

You wonder if your words are enough to prevent her from tracking down other past lovers of yours.

You assume only time will tell.

[squibsformers]

Feral Fears pt. 2

Transformers x Human

18+

In which the human finds their fangs.

Prev

It took the human… two hours? Maybe? Before they got curious.

And when they got curious, things became dangerous.

They had stolen wire from whoever owned this ship- probably more fuckass robots, knowing their luck. They used it to make rope. lots and lots of rope. Some remained wound and bound up in their makeshift pack, and then more was used to make a way down- one time only, most likely, so they tossed extra out of the hole to store for later.

Then, they went up, not down.

It took work, a lot of hissing and cursing, but they clambered up out of the crate and looked around, squinting. Maybe if they were lucky…

Aha. They scrambled across several crates before getting to one marked with red and white. Even they could figure it out.

Medical supplies.

It took a lot of effort to climb onto the package, more still to pop the case open, but when they did… they couldn't help the delight that shot through them, despite the ache in their arm.

Sharps.

Oh, the little human stomped their feet in delight. Eagerly, they rummaged through, grabbing a few different items. A scalpel, extra blades, some tape and some soft cloths they could use as a blanket or make into something else. Syringe? Yoinked that needle. Some sort of small plastic case full of drill bits? They took a few bits, dumped the rest out into the crate and took the door-sized case. Storage, drill bits were always good, all they needed now was-

AHA.

Containers.

They bundled up all their goodies, the empty plastic test tubes would make for good water storage- a rare find, not difficult though on a ship. Once everything was secured, they made a sling to hold the spear-sized scalpel, packed a bunch of bits and bobs away in the small plastic case, and began abseiling down the side of the crate.

Probably should have tried closing the medkit back up, but they didn't care enough to do so. Fuck these stupid robots, these ones were probably just as bad as the others. Giant, metal monsters, with insatiable appetites for violence and humiliating others.

…They shook their head and kept on going, yanking the wire they used to rappel down and finally dislodged it, bundling it back up and making a run for the nearest wall. Their arm felt like there were two little discs of aching lava lodged in it, but didn't want to dwell on it. They had to hurry.

Come on, come on, they had to find it, they had to find one so they could hide and- BINGO! One ventilation shaft, right on time.

The little human unscrewed some bolts, tossed their junk in and soon followed behind, pushing and pulling their haul along. Dips, turns, sheer wall of metal they used some magnets they had in their pack to get up… There was (hopefully) a machine in this ship like the other had, one that let out water vapor and drifted it up to a dehumidifier that they could use as a water source…

They would be in here for a while, and they would set up a good little base, and be millions of lightyears from those other bastards. Everything would be fine. They would be fine. Everything was fine now.

….Their busted arm hurt so bad…

Once they found a good base camp location, they would be making sure to wrap and brace it as best they could. They were no medic but, well. The little human was sure as hell not about to stroll up to one of THOSE things, asking for help. Those metal demons…

_______

Oddities followed the Lost Light like a plague in the cycles after they took off from the outpost. Which was normal but…you know.

It was truly no one's fault, everyone that was a passenger aboard had long since accepted the fate. Glitch mice plague? Seen it. Spark Eaters? Dealt with it. Spontaneous hallway brawls?? Ultra Magnus had started making some incident reports ahead of time that he just had to fill in some blanks to save time.

Rodimus…was staring at the storage hold, arms crossed.

“So…we have a thief…?”

“It's pretty likely, Rodimus.” Ratchet grumbled, digging through the medical supply box and sorting while looking at the order he had placed. “That, or the outpost ripped us off. Half of my supplies are missing.” Snarling, he threw a damaged laser scalpel to the ground. “This is a load of slag! What in the pit am I to do with half my order missing- that fabric tape was important for staunching flows in coolant lines!!”

“Frag…” He grumbled, hand on his chin. He looked over to Perceptor, the mech studying the hole in the crate. “Do you think that it was that shady mech with the grey stripes who loaded us?”

The sniper hummed, zooming in on some of the discarded and scattered blades. “Maybe… or perhaps we have a stowaway?” He murmured. “Look at these marks. They're kind of oily, and look like..silicone or rubber digit pads. Very small, but-”

“Dude, I can't see what you're talking about.”

Perceptor huffs.

“I think what we have is someone who snuck aboard. The reason why is anyone's guess, but, taking into account the amount of sharp items that have been taken…”

Rodimus felt a chill slink down his backstruts, glancing over at Ultra Magnus. “...a potential assassin…?”

“Sounds like it…” He grumbled. “The question now is who the target is…. as well as where they vanished off to.”

Perceptor had moved to scouring over the crate, trying to see what he could discover as Ratchet clutched the medical supplies closer, uneasy at what was being said.

“Okay. This stays between us here and those in the security detail.” Rodimus points at Perceptor. “That means no Brainstorm.” He turned, pointing to Ratchet, who looked a bit cross. “And no Drift.”

“You say that as if Brainstorm would focus on something like this.”

“Prime, you're going to end up telling him anyway.”

“I know. But I wanna tell him. Not you.”

“Whoever this was is around the size of a Minibot.”

That caught Magnus's attention, the enforcer looking back over. “Are you certain?”

“Very. It's the only way they could squeeze through a hole this size, though, their plating would catch for sure…” Perceptor slowly stood, tracing a warbling path with a laser pointer before having it end right at the vents. Narrow, but some minis could stand upright in parts of the passages…. “Small, flexible, and doesn't want to be found.”

Rodimus's optics narrow. “Get the smallest security drones to do sweeps through the vents. We're flushing this cyber-rat out.”

________

Next NA

[roosterforme]

Geriatric Millennial | Rooster x Reader

Bradley loves all things '90s. You don't completely understand it, but you appreciate his spirit.

1000 words

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

There were certain scenarios that became normal over time when you were in a relationship with a man more then ten years your elder. Sometimes you didn't understand certain movie references. Slang words and jokes occasionally went over your head. He and his friends would often reminisce about trends you'd never witnessed. But Bradley never made you feel bad about it, and you never called him an old-timer unless you were joking.

You were used to these things, but nothing quite prepared you for what you saw when you got home from work. Bradley was relaxing on the couch in something that looked like a bright blue, full body straitjacket with some random vintage headphones on his head.

"What the fuck?" you muttered, inching closer when you realized he was listening to music and hasn't spotted you yet. You glanced around the room, trying to locate the source of disturbing chattering sound that just started, and you tripped over a hard, black ball.

Bradley looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you're home early." He quickly stood in his weird, fleece outfit and leaned in to give you a kiss, but you leaned away.

"What on earth is happening here?" you asked, standing frozen as he pulled his headphones off.

"What are you talking about?" He looked puzzled by your words but not by all of the weird things in the living room. 

"I'm talking about what you're wearing. And the robotic voice!"

"Oh," he laughed. "This is just my Snuggie."

"Your what?"

He glanced down at himself. "My Snuggie? I found it in a box of my stuff from highschool."

You were still so confused. "What's a Snuggie? And what is that weird sound?"

When his gaze fell to something fuzzy and brown on the couch, you jerked back in shock. "You mean my Furby?"

You glared at the critter and it's enormous, evil eyes. "Is that one of those things from that '80s Gremlins movie you're obsessed with?"

He barked out a laugh like you'd just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "Baby, no. It's not a Gremlin. It's just a Furby. But imagine if Furby manufactured replica Gremlins... Would have been fascinating." It was starting to sound like he was speaking a foreign language. "I was just listening to Chumbawamba on my Discman and playing with my pogs and my Tomagachi. I literally forgot the Furby was even here."

You were sure you were gaping at him like he had two heads as you reached up to run your palm across his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"Huh? No, but I did eat a Kudos bar I found in the box, so I might potentially have an upset stomach later. But it was worth it."

After you pinched the bridge of your nose, you asked, "I'm sorry, but what did you say you were listening to?"

"Tubthumping. By Chumbawamba. You know it, don't you? Pissing the night away, pissing the night away. I get knocked down...." He looked at you in wide eyed shock. "You don't know that song? How is that possible?"

You didn't want to tell him that Chumba whatever wasn't a word. And neither was Snuggie. Not when he looked so adorably baffled. You stroked your fingers across his forehead and down his cheek as you shook your head.

"No, I don't know that song, because I'm not forty like you are. And you look kind of alarming in this thing." You pinched the fleece fabric and pulled it away from his body.

"It's my Snuggie," he muttered. "It was from an Infomercial."

"I don't know what that means." He gasped and you started laughing. "But I would love to sit down with you while you explain it to me. As long as you don't make me eat something from the late 1900s."

He took your hand in his bigger one and and led you toward the couch and the demonic looking Furby. "Okay, but first, you need to listen to this CD. Because Jake told me Chumbawamba is a guilty pleasure, but it's actually really good."

About twenty minutes later, you were wrapped up in the Snuggie, enveloped in softness and Bradley's lingering body warmth. "I love this thing," you told him, burying your face in the fleece. "And yes, Chumbawamba is good, but I like Hoobastank better. And I'm really sorry I accidentally kicked your Magic 8 ball across the floor."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek as you skipped a track on his Discman. "That's okay. Hey, do you want to learn how to play pogs? The best part is, I'm not sure there are actually any rules at all."

"Sure," you said with a shrug. "Why the hell not? As long as you lock that Furby away and never let it out ever again."

"Heard."