Three Have Cats,

Hi! So, this is a question for the Siren AU. How would the boys react to a siren mc (on the predator spectrum) who already has a baby? Not newborn, but certainly still child age. And with her species of siren, oftentimes the males don't stick around and would part away from the female.

It's always important, anywhere in nature, to be incredibly careful of mothers with babies. A mother defending her child is immensely dangerous, she'll fight to the death without question, and even if she were a prey mermaid they'd avoid getting too close to her baby. All the boys would be very careful to give Mc (and her child) space.

Sans: Despite the dangerous reputation that comes with being an orca, Sans would actually be the one that she'd be quickest to accept. This is one of the few occasions where being an orca is to his advantage socially. Orca sirens live in family units, right? And he's all alone. She immediately knows that's odd. And when he starts following them, defending them, bringing them food... it wouldn't take long for her to realise he's bonded with them and considers them his family. There's no other reason for him to act the way he's acting. Her baby likes his funny whistle-click noises, too.

... Her sympathy for his situation only goes so far, though. He still has to prove himself. And prove himself he does; he rarely leaves their side, assisting in hunting and foraging, delighting in teaching her baby. He can let out a few loud calls, and the area clears of almost every predator, nobody willing to fuck with an orca.

He's dedicated, and built for a family. She likes that.

Red: Red's dead charming. He's got that going for him. A handsome, charming shark covered with the marks of his past victories, he screams 'potential mate' and can flirt with her pretty brazenly before her patience at his closeness runs out. His knack for entertaining children also comes in handy... she's much more tolerant with someone that can make her baby giggle like that. That's probably the way he sidles his way into their family unit- making both mother & child laugh while serving as a visual deterrent to any hunters who get the wrong idea. She's naturally cautious about letting a SHARK near her baby considering one bite would be all it took, but he's happy to wait for her to relax.

... He's also very sturdy. Don't forget, he's built for his partner to be an aggressive female shark much larger than him. He can get roughed around by his potential mate (and he'd probably enjoy it) so he's a lot more confident approaching her than the others are. His confidence gives him a casual air that she really likes... it's clear he's not got anything suspicious in mind.

Skull: Unfortunately for our big boy, Skull would have the hardest time convincing Mc that he doesn't want to hurt them. It comes with the territory of being a massive scary deep sea monster. There would be numerous occasions where his attempts to interact with either mother or child would result in Mc charging and attacking him- and though her attempts at causing any damage are totally ineffectual to this giant, it definitely hurts his feelings.

... His one upside... is that he's a ferocious predator. Talk about a provider- he's constantly bringing her and her baby meals, at a rate that almost alarms her. If he thinks Mc isn't eating enough because she's too busy guarding her baby, he brings her meals big enough to sustain her for days. And even if her baby doesn't look hungry he brings meals for them anyway. He's very adept at catching the little prey that her child relies on, his massive dexterous tentacles capable of snatching up anything moving... and though Mc doesn't like him at first, she'll never turn down food.

They'll probably grow close because Mc doesn't let him near her child. He's always bringing food, and she accepts it on her baby's behalf. With the amount of prey he brings them, there's a lot of time for bonding.

a fools guide to not wanting to die anymore

by me, a fool who doesnt wanna die anymore 

never make a suicide joke again. yes this includes “i wanna die” as a figure of speech. swear off of it. actually make an effort to change how you think about things.

find something to compliment someone for at least 4 times a day. notice the little things about the world that make you happy, and use that to make other people happy.

talk to people. initiate conversation as often as you possibly can. keep your mind busy and you wont have to worry anymore

picture the bad intrusive thoughts in youe head as an edgy 13 year old and tell them to go be emo somewhere else

if someone makes you feel bad most of the time, stop talking to them. making yourself hang out with people who drain you is self harm. stop it.

Azul: How has your day been, Mc?

Mc: Well, no one died.

Azul: Those are your standards...?

Mc: I can't expect anything better when I'm friends with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, who have one collective brain cell that they lose frequently.

Azul: I, I see...

👀 harpy nonzoo AU with MC with kid? How would that go down? Not sure if/how MC would take their kid to the mountain tho

Sans: She'd be much more cautious going through Sans' forest if she had a child with her- she wouldn't go through at night at first. No way she's taking that risk, she'll just spend the night in town. Which means they probably meet when her kid runs off in his woods and gets totally lost.

... He looks after her child. Keeps them from getting too upset, or panicking... being lost can be very scary, he plays with them to keep them distracted, and acts lazy to calm the nerves. If he's acting lazy and sleepy, there must be nothing to fear, right? If Mc stumbles across them, she finds her kid playing with a completely harmless and happy owl- and if she doesn't find them Sans puts her baby on his back and makes a game out of finding mom again. As much as he's a little shit, and he'd like to play keep-away with her kid... he knows he's got to gain both their trusts before he does something like that.

Sans visits their home at night. He feels protective. Mc has grown accustomed to looking out of the windows at night and seeing his terrifying eyelights in the pitch-black near distance.

Red: Well that's even MORE of a reason for him to move in, isn't it? He wants a mate, and a child. Right there? A perfect mate with a beautiful child. He wants to protect, he wants to provide... someone needs to go in and make sure they're protected. Lucky for them, his schedule is free.

She's, obviously, very defensive of her child when a massive harpy moves into her house. He loves it- as we know, there's few things more attractive to Red than someone with fire. This time it's extra easy to prove his worth as a mate and a father, because her child immediately takes a shine to him... who wouldn't? He's a cool eagle with a gold tooth, and he proves to be a great playmate. Mc tries her best to distrust him but it's difficult when he cleans the messes she can't manage, respects her personal space, and plays with her child so much they happily settle down for their nap.

Skull: It's not unheard of for parents to take their child hiking. And if Mc is a single mother, maybe her kid really likes hiking and camping, and she just wanted to do something nice for them. She never could've foreseen herself being stalked and getting injured.

As for Skull... well, he's a big bird, there's more than enough space in his warm feathers for a mother and her kid to cuddle up and survive a harsh winter night. Especially if he takes them back to his den, where he can be certain the icy winds won't reach them, and snuggles them in real close. Skull is in heaven, mate and baby in his arms... the two of them tucked against him so close he can feel their heartbeats. He doesn't sleep; he can't, he's too happy. He coos all night.

His den doesn't feel so empty anymore. Neither does his Soul.

ATTENTION ALL GIRLS AND LADIES: if you walk from home, school, office or anywhere and you are alone and you come across a little boy crying holding a piece of paper with an address on it, DO NOT TAKE HIM THERE! take him straight to the police station for this is the new 'gang' way of rape. The incident is getting worse. Warn your families. Reblog this so this message can get accross to everyone.

(Masterlist) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3/hereee)

P.s. Little Sanji was shorter than you before he hit puberty so he was standing on a stool when doing your hair.

Tag: @marvelsgirl4ever , @i-reblog-fics-i-like , @laurasmultiverse , @secretlife028

MC: If we die, I’m going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault.

Ace: That’s cool, I wouldn't mind having company as a ghost.

You know what I could use a pick-me-up soon

If error n nightmare has been bhc afied, how about dust, killer n ink? Horror has technically already been bhc afied XD

here's Killer, newly named Steel!

he's the least adjusted out of all of them but maybe there's hope for him yet. how do you recover when you made all the terrible things you've done your identity for so long?

A lovely commission from @vallleyoflilllies, Error being a silly tsundere and not knowing how to deal with his crush on a human <3 absolutely CLASS idea

---

He was back again.

You could always tell when he was back- you’d come home from work and hear the sounds of a random dramatic soap opera drifting from the TV. He liked those... he would binge-watch entire series’ in one sitting. 

... You shook some of the droplets off your coat, then hung it up to let it drip-dry for a bit. The weather was pretty grim outside. You headed to your room first, changing into pyjamas and picking up your project... you didn’t have any other outings planned today. Sitting with him on the couch sounded really nice.

You made your way to the sofa, flopping down beside him unceremoniously. He didn’t look at you. He wasn’t watching a soap opera today, though- he was watching some cooking show you’d never seen before, based in Italy.

“This is new.” You commented. “Why’re you watching an old people cooking show? You never cook. All you do is eat my food.”

“i put-t-t it on for you, actually. since your cook-k-king is gross.” He said, still not looking at you. You knew him well enough to know his words had no real venom to them. “take notes, glitch.”

You snickered. “Doesn’t stop you from coming back. Weirdo.”

You liked when he was here. 

Error... he had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. Literally- he’d appear out of thin air. Disappearing for days, then showing up again, acting like no time passed. Your first encounter with him had been him shaking you awake in the middle of the night; he was visibly upset and berated you for leaving your stove on by accident, informing you you could’ve had a fire if he wasn’t there to turn it off. You were so tired, and so perplexed by what was occurring, that you just sheepishly apologised- convinced you were dreaming. Apparently somewhat mollified by your apology, he proceeded to... vanish like a mirage.

...

Well. You obviously wrote that off as the strangest episode of sleep hallucination you’d ever had.

The next occurrence was when you left a cupboard door open, and almost stood up into the opened door. You would’ve whacked your head pretty hard. But a firm, large hand on your head stopped you from standing up fully- you heard the sound of a closing cupboard and a glitched “st-t-upid human, you’re going to hurt yoursel-l-lf.”. You were absolutely shocked to look up and see that the monster from your ‘dream’ the other night was real, and glaring down at you.

... He then disappeared. Again. Like he wasn’t even there. You didn’t have time to process it.

It happened with further and further frequency, and for lesser and lesser reasons. At first, it was things of genuine concern, he would make sure you weren’t leaving your oven on, he’d replace the battery in your carbon monoxide alarm. Then stuff of slightly less importance... shutting off a tap you left running. Plugging in your phone overnight when you’d forgotten. And it wasn’t long before it was stuff of absolutely zero concern- turning off the TV when you weren’t in the room, tidying up your shoes when you left them at an askew angle by the door, washing up plates you’d abandoned on the counter. 

Oddly, it felt like in certain ways, he had completely slipped under your radar. Of course you were concerned that a large glitching skeleton monster somehow possessed the ability to instantly get in and out of your home. Of course you were worried about your privacy, your safety, his intentions. He would sometimes look at you for several seconds, unbroken, yellow eyelights blank despite your nervous queries- other times, he would say confusing jittering things to you or himself, about ‘universes’ and ‘alternates’. ‘Mistakes’ he had to ‘eradicate’.

... But... also...

... You weren’t worried at all.

Error was funny. Both intentionally, and unintentionally. He tried to act all tough, speaking with barbs and calling you a ‘glitch’- but to you, he was so clearly all bark and no bite. You shot right back, calling him a broken record player and a weird homeless guy... he took it in stride. He obviously delighted in having someone to play off. To banter with.

... He clearly liked you. He kept coming back, again and again. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him too.

Did you still have questions? Sure. But in the end, it wasn’t really worth driving yourself crazy over stuff like his secret backstory. He could obviously go in and out of your home completely at will, he could rob you blind or murder you if he so pleased. All he did was do a few menial chores, and occasionally eat some of your food.

He clearly just... needed someone.

At this point in your... ‘relationship’... Error seemed to have given up on the excuse of doing chores in order to be in your home. He still did them, sure, but sometimes he’d just stay anyway. Once he seemed to clock that you tolerated him, whether or not he was unexpectedly picking up your dry cleaning, he began sticking around all day. He would hover nearby you, drifting in and out of whatever room you were in, watching you like a curious cat. If you acknowledged his existence in any manner, like with a question about his day, he’d visibly brighten and start chattering. He’d sit on the couch with you. Listen while you rambled about work, family, friends, anything... making snide remarks and staring with those bright yellow eyelights.

He was more akin to a helpful, close friend/roommate than anything else. You’d grown to kinda just accept that Error was part of your life now.

... He was very easy to accept.

///---///

Error let a slow breath escape him. His temper had been, only moments earlier, absolutely foul. Foul enough that the multiverse would’ve done well to fear him.

... You had no idea that before you arrived, he’d been seething on your couch, glitches overtaking his vision- literally blinding him with anger. Twitching, burning, infuriated by his difficulty with simple tasks while angry. It had been an awful few days, so awful not even the TV could distract him.

... Then he’d heard your front door open. He heard you sigh to yourself, shake off your raincoat, kick off your shoes.

... His vision had cleared. His Soul had thumped. Finally- the only thing that could distract him.

Your home was the only place where he felt warm. It felt like the only place he could come back to, that welcomed him, with familiar smells and sounds and trinkets that brought him back to reality. Even better when you were physically in the space with him, like you were now, nestled beside him on the couch. Unlike the anti void, a vast expanse of white nothingness where he had only himself to talk to, he liked how your home was full of things that had meaning to you. Your Soul’s energy had soaked into every item in the home- as had your scent.

... He glanced at you, then back to the TV again. Did you know you were the only creature in the multiverse he wanted closer?

(He had one of your shirts, in the anti void. You didn’t know. He figured he probably should return it soon... but it kept him company, when he couldn’t directly be with you.)

It was odd. You calling him a weirdo had made him feel so calm- affirmation that you still didn’t know what he’d done, that you still liked him. Still wanted him in your home. He sometimes asked himself what he, the destroyer of universes, was doing hanging around in a tiny backwater AU with a nobody human... but like most things in his life, he found that if he asked too many questions, the pain in his head became too intense. 

At the end of the day, you being close to him and talking to him made him feel good. That was all he needed to know.

Even just watching you had calmed him down; back before he realised you were happy to let him in.

You had settled in, your breathing was slower. Someone, relaxed around him... it felt good. Though he desperately wanted to stare at you, and talk to you, he also didn’t want to seem clingy. He tried to act like he didn’t care, pretending he was watching the Italian cooking show.

...

He didn’t manage long.

“there are aus with m-m-much better looking-g-g mediterraneans than that.” He said, yellow mouth pulled into a sneer.

... You gave him a customary ‘mhm’. 

You had no clue what an AU was. But you humoured him; he liked that. You didn’t really know what most of the things he talked about were, you’d just give him some nods and hums, maybe you’d tease him. You probably just thought he was nuts.

He finally glanced over at you. You were leaning on the side of the couch... something in hand.

...

He felt his Soul skip.

“a-a-are you crocheting?”

... 

... You looked up at him, you seemed surprised to hear him comment on what you were doing. Your eyes on him made his magic all but purr. He was looking at your ‘project’- a few terrible tangled messes, a ball of brown yarn, and a crochet hook pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

(You were in pyjamas. He liked when you were in pyjamas... he liked when you were comfortable. Comfortable around him.)

“... Oh. Uh... well, I’m trying to crochet.” Your voice soothed his glitches. Everything about you was a balm to his angry, spiteful, troubled Soul. “I’ve only just started. I can’t really work it out.”

He tilted his skull. “what are you-u maki-i-ing?”

Were your cheeks getting pinker? “... Nothing in particular, maybe a scarf? I just wanted to get into crocheting.”

He stared. “what don’t y-y-you understand?”

“Making the knot at the beginning. I dunno where to put everything.” Your brow furrowed. “You know how to crochet?”

“of course.” He said, sitting up. The TV was now purely background noise. “why do you seem surp-p-prised?”

You gave him a look, and a teasing smile that made him feel fidgety and hot. 

“... You’re so right. How could I have been so blind. You scream ‘guy who likes to crochet’.”

Error shifted. “how can you not know how to make a slipknot? they’re easy. there’s a lot of method-d-ds.”

“There are? Course you'd know, grandma.”

“maybe try a pret-t-zel method.” He pointed to your yarn, sitting forward even further. “make a pretzel sh-shape with the yarn. then catch the inside loop.”

You made a loop over your finger.

... Then kinda just paused, unsure.

“n-n-no, a pretzel.” He narrowed his sockets. “don’t you kn-kn-know how to make a p-p-pretzel?”

“No.” You said, honestly. Then you glared at him. “But also, you’re shit at explaining.”

He loved when you sassed him. He leaned in. “maybe the cross method is easier for your t-t-tiny human brain. loop the thread twice ov-v-ver your fingers so it’s an x shape. then tuck the loose end under the x and catch that. eas-s-sy.”

... You looped the yarn over your finger twice.

...

“But like. Where do I tuck the end of it?” You said.

“under the x. you... ugh.” He grunted. “c’mere. gimme the-the-the end of the thread.”

...

You flushed. But you shuffled, sitting up, passing him the yarn.

Error leant over- he took your hands in his.

...

He took your hands. In his.

He froze, for a split second. Your hands were in his. He stared down at them; tiny, soft, warm, shrouded in his blackened bones. He had expected contact with you to feel like lightning, but it didn't, your hands were just... nice. Everything he’d dreamed of. 

... 'fuck' was the only thought running through his head. Repeating over and over. He didn’t mean to take your hands, he didn't realise what he was doing until he’d already done it- he was just so accustomed to instinctively hating the idea of touching anyone, he had no idea how to stop himself from doing it when the urge overcame him. He was just so comfortable with you, so warm- he hadn’t thought twice. In that moment, the thought to recoil from you hadn’t even occurred to him.  

He hadn’t thought twice about touching you. 

... It wasn’t until this very moment, your hands warming his bones, that he realised he was indulging an urge he’d had since the moment he first saw you.

...

Error couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge how deeply he’d been taken off guard. And equally, he couldn’t allow you to see it. So he forced himself to continue.

He didn’t want to let go of your hands.

“it-t-t’s a basic slipknot. i don’t get where you’re conf-fused.” He said, defaulting to insults, as he did when he felt any kind of gentle emotion. He hoped his glitches would hide the nervous stutter.

He moved your fingers in his claws, precisely, holding up the end of the yarn. Your hands felt tiny in his.

“do it lik-k-ke this. you want the end to be about this long. not too sh-short.” With the eye of someone who had done it a thousand times, he looped it over your first two fingers. “make an x, over your fingers, like that-t. you see? then you tuck the tail under here. but not-t-t all the way through.”

... 

... His eyelights moved from the thread, to your face. He caught you looking at him. He was very close, his mouth only a few inches from your face. Close enough to literally feel the warmth coming off you. 

... Just like that, he found it was difficult to swallow. 

You flinched, seemingly flustered at getting caught staring- you forced yourself to look back down at the crochet hooks. You bit your lip, apparently in embarrassment.

Your mouth.

...

It took him a few long, difficult moments to draw his eyelights away from your soft, soft lips. 

“... pinch the tail so you dont lose it.” His claws continuously brushed yours as he circled the thread over your own fingers. He took your left hand. “put your other finger through the loop. like... that. then slide the hook through and catch it. there you go, a slipknot.”

... He could hear your heartbeat. It was faster.

“make sure not to tighten it too much. the knot doesn’t count as a stitch. if you were knitting, it would count. but it doesn’t count in cr-crocheting.”

...

He felt like he’d reached the end of his list of excuses to keep holding your hands.

... He let go. And... he sat back against the couch, refusing to look at you, worried about what he might do if he did. He could feel the energy in his cheekbones, they were probably bright blue. 

His hands balled in his lap.

...

“Thanks.” You said, gently. Genuinely.

...

Error didn’t know how to process what he was currently feeling. He wasn't sure if he'd ever know how. So he just kept his sockets glued to the TV.

“... s-s-sure." He said. "whatever.”