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tekiasreadings · 8 days

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( @grumpycakes On the occasion of her birth, the start of a story about birthdays, and getting everything you want, even though it's nothing you know how to ask for. Happy Birthday, Mel!)

-Another Year Around the Sun-

“Are you- Are you going to get that?”

Tony squinted at the schematic floating in the air in front of him. “Does it look like I’m going to get that?” he asked, taking a careful sip of his coffee. It burned the entire way down, and he exhaled on a cough. “Jesus, this is foul.”

“Yep.” Bruce gave him a slight smile from behind his safe, boring cup of tea. “Just like you like it.”

Tony saluted him with the cup. “Just like I like it,” he agreed. His phone stopped buzzing, and he gave it a look, nursing his coffee along with his grudge. As expected, it started vibrating again a moment later, shaking against the top of the workbench. “Jay, put him on the block list.”

“He will simply call the main line,” Jarvis said, with the sort of infinite patience only his AI could manage.

“And I expect you to hang up on him,” Tony said.

Bruce leaned across the workbench. “It’s-” He glanced up at Tony, his brows drawing up tight in an expression of concern. “Are you, I mean, is there-”

Tony took another sip of his coffee, letting the cup hang in front of his face as he punched the surface of his phone with one finger. The call connected, and there was a single second of silence, and then-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BIRTHDAY BOY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUST TO YOU,” Rhodey howled into the phone with the sort of glee only a long time friend could muster when doing something unforgivable. On the other side of the workbench, Bruce rocked back on his stool, his eyes going wide with shock. “WE HEAR THAT YOU’RE THE BIRTHDAY BOY, SO WE’RE SINGING LOUD AND TRUE, EVERYONE WILL KNOW THAT YOU’RE A SPECIAL BOY, IT’S THE LEAST THAT WE COULD DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”

“Die in a fire,” Tony said, and hung up on him.

Bruce was clutching his tea with both hands, his shoulders up around his ears, his expression horrified. “What was-”

“There was a diner down the street from MIT,” Tony said, making a minute adjustment to the schematic with a flick of his fingers. “And they sang that hellish ditty if you told them someone in your party was having a birthday.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, drawing out the word.

“Yeah, well it turns out that if you pre-tip the staff a twenty, they’ll sing it any time you ask. Such as every Sunday morning. When you’ve dragged your hungover, barely functional best friend into said diner with the promise of pancakes and coffee, and instead betray him with singing waiters who are just enjoying seeing him suffer.” Tony took a sip of coffee. “It was my birthday every single Sunday for two solid months.”

Bruce put down his cup. “Okay,” he repeated. “Why did you continue-”

“Honestly, I probably wanted the attention,” Tony mused. “And the pancakes.” His phone rang again, and he picked it up, putting it on speaker with a flick of his thumb. “How did you pass the military psych evaluation? In that you are clearly a sociopath?”

“Happy birthday,” Rhodey said, his voice full of glee.

“Actually, not my birthday,” Tony said, trying not to smile. “I had it legally changed specifically to avoid these sorts of betrayals.”

“Great, I can now call you randomly every day until I find the new one,” Rhodey said. “Gonna be our daily tradition.”

“I am blocking your number,” Tony said. “And by ‘blocking you,’ I mean, I am going to hack my way into every single cellular service in this country and make sure you get a busy signal any time you call anyone for any reason at any time.”

“A normal, rational response from a well-balanced man,” Rhodey mused.

“Says the man who memorized a song deliberately designed for trauma and has used it to harass me annually for literally my entire adult life,” Tony said. “Why would you memorize that? Why would you do that to yourself, let alone me?”

“You say that like I could possibly forget it, it’s an ear worm,” Rhodey mused. “And I heard it every Sunday for like three months.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Should’ve done less Saturday night drinking, and we wouldn’t have had to do Sunday morning penance.”

“You are the worst, you are a terrible friend, I don’t know why I even talk to you. I have replaced you. I have other friends now, better friends. Know what Bruce gave me for my birthday?” Tony asked, gesturing at Bruce, who was staring down at his tablet, trying to hide his smile behind the rim of his cup. “Coffee. Terrible coffee, but coffee.”

“Your favorite,” Rhodey said. “Hey, Bruce!”

“Hey,” Bruce said, raising his voice to be heard. “You coming for the party on Saturday?”

“Be there with bells on,” Rhodey said. “Can we hang out in a corner somewhere and avoid the frightening rich people that always end up at Tony’s parties?”

“God, please,” Bruce said, wincing.

“You’re no longer invited,” Tony told Rhodey. “Disinvited. I’m sending a drone to shred your invitation.”

“It was an email.”

“Even easier,” Tony said. He spun in a circle, one hand sliding through the air and pulling up a keyboard. “Worldwide computer virus. Targeting you and only you and your invitation.”

“How do you not know how your invitations went out?”Rhodey asked. “Was this entire party set up by a planner or something?”

“Of course not, that would be stupid,” Tony said.

Bruce took a sip of tea. “Stark Industries’ PR department planned this entire party.”

There was a beat of silence. “Tony…”

“I don’t need the disapproving voice out of you, and it’s not your problem, you’re uninvited,” Tony said, his fingers dancing over a holographic keyboard. “If you show up, you will be escorted off of the premises by someone, probably Nat, I owe her a favor, she likes throwing men around..”

“That’s a shame, I’ll just have to keep your birthday present.”

Tony’s fingers stilled. “What did you get me?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m uninvited.”

“You have a chance to buy your way back into my good graces,” Tony said. “What’d you get me?”

“A terrible bootleg Iron Man shirt I found in a street market in Guatemala,” Rhodey said.

Tony braced a hand on the workbench, considering that. “Terrible good or terrible bad?”

“Terrible terrible,” Rhodey said.

“What the hell is terrible terrible? What do you think that even means?”

“It’s TERRIBLE terrible, and it’s a shame you’ll never see it and find out.”

“Fine!” Tony tossed his hands in the air, ignoring the way Bruce was laughing. “You’re re-invited.”

“Ooooooooh.” Rhodey hummed to himself for a moment. “I’ll check, but I have a very busy social calendar, I’m not really sure I can squeeze in another party this late, should’ve gotten an invitation out to me a lot sooner if you wanted-”

“Shut up,” Tony said, grinning at his schematic. “You absolute embarrassment. You need to show up, Pepper says that Nicholetta Hertz has asked if you’re going to be there three separate times.”

“Nicholetta-”

“She was at the product release thing last fall?” Tony shifted some parts around in midair. “Tall? Gave the keynote speech? Wore a halter top dress and a pair of Converse high tops?”

There was a beat of a pause. “She wanted to know if I was coming?”

“Asked three times,” Tony said. “Pepper asked me to check if you were dating anyone. I told her that you’re a loser who is apparently getting into birdwatching-”

“It’s fucking interesting and god forbid I go outside without a gun strapped to me-”

“So no, you’re not dating anyone.” Tony paused, grinning. “Nicholetta likes to hike.”

“Don’t try to match make, you’re bad at it.”

Tony straightened up, his head snapping in Bruce’s direction. “Did you hear that?” he asked, gesturing at the phone. “Did you- I can’t be the only one who heard that.”

Bruce braced his chin on one hand. “I, I heard it,” he said. “And I might, possibly, agree with it.”

“Man’s got sense, I always said that the man’s got sense,” Rhodey said. “Don’t try to match make.”

“Fine, I’ll tell Pepper you’re not interested.”

“No, Pepper can do all the match making she wants,” Rhodey said.

Bruce was laughing, Tony could tell he was laughing, and he decided for the sake of his friendship that he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “Saturday. Seven PM. If you don’t have the literal worst t-shirt I’ve ever seen in my life, I’m going to sell something to the US Air Force that you will regret for the rest of your long, painfully long career.”

“TERRIBLE terrible,” Rhodey said. “I’ll be there by six, I need to mock your outfit for at least half an hour before the rest of your guests show up.”

“Luckily, if my outfit is that bad, you’re bringing me the perfect thing to wear. To my own birthday party. In front of the New York elite, every superhero I can stand, and a bunch of the most vindictive reporters in the country.” Tony ripped a piece of the holographic schematic free and tossed it across the workshop. “It’ll be great. We should just take pictures of every person as they first catch sight of the terribleness.”

“I love a party with a theme,” Rhodey said. “Saturday. Six PM. Bruce, wanna spend the rest of the night watching Tone try to guess who all his guests are.”

“It’s, uh, it’s a problem when you don’t set your own guest list,” Bruce agreed.

“Hanging up on you now,” Tony said.

“HAAAAAAAAAPPY BIIIIIRTHDAAAA-” Rhodey started, and Tony hung up on him.

He braced both hands on his workbench, his chin dipping in a nod. “I need better friends,” he said.

Bruce nodded. “Don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said, his voice apologetic. His eyes tipped up, and he smiled. “But…”

Tony turned, following his gaze, just in time to see Steve bounce his way down the stairs. He hit the ground, his feet skidding as he headed for the lab door. Almost against his will, Tony smiled, watcihng with affection as Steve punched in his door code and tossed it open.

He grinned at Tony, his cheeks flushed and his hair still damp from a morning shower. “Happy Birthday!”

Tony grinned at him. “It’s way too early for that much enthusiasm, Cap.”

“Get used to it.” Steve strode across the room, snagging a sweatshirt off of the hook as he passed it. “Let’s go!”

He tossed the sweatshirt at Tony, and Tony’s hands came up to catch it with more instinct than grace. But he managed not to end up with it draped over his head, and he counted that as a win. “Go? Go where?”

“Birthday,” Steve said, stopping as the bots rolled up to him. With a grin, he gave each of them a quick high five. “Hello, boys, Bruce is babysitting today, you’re all going to be good for him, right?”

“They will not,” Bruce said, smiling down at his tablet.

“First of all, if there’s any bot sitting to be done, Jarvis is going to be doing it,” Tony started, tossing the sweatshirt onto the workbench. It didn’t land in his coffee. He was doing great today. “And second, go WHERE? I have a prototype processing, the fabrication units are working on the next phase of the build, and I have six other projects to-”

Steve came around the end of the workbench, his long legs eating up the distance, all of the bots trailing behind him like the stupidest little Disney parade. “Bruce.”

“Bruce?” Tony parroted.

Bruce raised his cup, still looking at his tablet. “Bruce.”

“Doctor Banner and I have the situation well under control,” Jarvis said, his tone crisp. “Should your expertise be required, we shall reach out to you immediately, but you are not nearly as indispensable to this part of the project as you might like to imagine.”

Tony’s eyebrows arched. “Rude.”

“Bruce has got the workshop, Pepper’s handling the business side of things, Thor’s camped out on the tower roof and promised he’ll take care of any Avengers problems, Natasha is leading Fury on a wild goose chase through Vatican City right now,” Steve said.

“I wondered where she’d gone last night,” Tony said. He blinked. “Wait. You’ve just sidelined my work, my company, my superheroing and the less than secret spy organization that spends a third of its time trying to annoy me. That’s like, four of the five things that try to kill me on a regular basis.”

“He’s the man with the plan,” Bruce said, sipping his tea.

Tony was pretty sure this shouldn’t be a turn on. He was pretty sure it was anyway. “So that just leaves-”

“Coulson just dumped a 8000 piece puzzle onto the kitchen island,” Steve said, his arms crossed over his chest. “And Clint’s going to find it in-” His head cocked to the side as he considered. “Jarvis?”

“He is currently on the elevator now,” Jarvis said. “Three minutes. Twelve seconds. And counting.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve grinned at Tony, wide and bright and perfect, and Tony went a tiny bit dizzy for a second. “Five out of five.”

“Clint hates puzzles,” Tony pointed out.

“Yes, he does. He also can’t resist color matching and shape recognition. He’s going to be saying curse words in languages no one here even knew existed,” Steve said. He straightened up, and reached out, picking up the sweatshirt. “Birthday. Let’s go. I’ve got plans.”

Tony considered the sweatshirt. Considered Steve. “What kind of plans?”

“Best birthday ever,” Steve said, and he said it with such conviction that if Tony wasn’t already head over heels in love with him, that would’ve sealed the deal. Steve held the sweatshirt out to him, a bribe or a peace offering, Tony couldn’t tell. But he held it out, with a quick, hopeful little smile. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I mean, I did before you said those exact words and now I’m sure that it’s a terrible idea,” Tony said, just to hear him laugh. He took the sweatshirt, being careful not to grab Steve’s hand instead. That would’ve been just embarrassing. “Can I eat breakfast at least?”

Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, force marching him towards the door. “That’s step one!”

Tony looked back over his shoulder. “Help.”

Bruce gave a little wiggle of his fingers. “Haaaaaaaappy Birthday,” he sang.

“This is going to be terrible,” Tony said, and he was honestly looking forward to it.

#avengers #superhusbands #complete

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tekiasreadings · 9 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mobei-jun/Shang Qinghua Characters: Mobei-jun, Shang Qinghua Additional Tags: Overworked Shang Qinghua, HandPulled Noodles of Committment, Sweet, soft, Shang Qinghua Needs a Break, And MBJ makes sure he gets one Summary:

SQH has been overly stressed and refuses to relax without "help" from MBJ

#svsss #complete

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tekiasreadings · 10 days

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binggeyuan modern!AU based on this prompt where shen yuan and luo binghe live in the same apartment building, but have never met each other. SY is more-or-less his regular shut-in self, and keeps very odd hours, which means that he happens to be wide awake the first time LBH gets back to the apartment building at 3 a.m. after some manner of illicit activity and realizes he doesn't have his fucking entrance key. LBH hits one apartment number after another into the intercom, fully prepared to dazzle his way into getting one of them to open the door for him, but the intercom is old, and people come and go from this building often enough that most people don't bother getting it set up, and he's having no luck.

finally, just as he's about to give up and bully his way onto mobei-jun or sha hualing's couch for the night, someone picks up. he doesn't even remember which specific apartment number it was, he was just entering them mechanically. immediately, LBH pulls on his smoothest affect (sure the intercom has no video, only shitty, garbled audio, but that's no reason to let the universe catch you slipping) and prepares to give the sob story performance of his life. before he can even get a single word out, however, there's a crackly, almost indiscernible "Open!" and he hears the click of the entrance door unlocking before the intercom call is ended. he stares at the intercom for a minute, somewhat wrong-footed, but then shakes himself out of it in time to catch the door before it locks again.

SY, for his part, was broken out of a binge-reading spiral by the intercom call, and fully did not realize how late it had gotten. he assumed he had ordered something that was arriving earlier than expected, and kept an ear out for a knock on his front door from the delivery person for a few minutes, but then got sucked back into the target of his current literary criticism.

the next time LBH gets locked out, he starts in the general number range he remembers striking on the last time, and pays closer attention to the numbers this time. he's curious if his little philanthropist will be so accommodating again. SY orders a lot of packages, okay! the one time he didn't pick up the intercom he had to wait an extra three days for his ultra-rare, limited edition merch, which he will not be going through again. this time, though, when the intercom picks up, LBH is prepared. he starts talking immediately, playing up his stress at being locked out, how sorry he is to be a bother, and how much he really, really appreciates it. SY fully blue screens at this unanticipated display of emotions, blurts something out about how it's not problem and of course he's happy to help out a neighbor in need, then hangs up (after unlocking the entrance, of course). it is perhaps fortunate that the intercom has no video, and thus he can not see the look on LBH's face.

LBH gets more and more consistent pushy with his calls, curious how far this little philanthropist will go for him. he knows his apartment number, of course, he could just knock and introduce himself, but he'd rather let him come to him. LBH starts interjecting little questions here and there, trying to glean any information about his mysterious benefactor. SY, meanwhile, is lighting a daily candle for this poor little bun somewhere in his building, who has truly the worst luck in the entire world! who ever heard of a gang of pickpockets stealing someone's keys not once, but twice in the same week!

LBH gets comfortable with the state of things — as ever, too comfortable. nothing good can last forever. one night, after a long and utterly shitty day, for the first time in ages, he loses his key for real. he's tried to avoid reaching out to SY at any time when he's not 100% in control of himself, but there's nothing for it. he punches in the numbers for the unit he knows by heart at this point, and when it picks up, he sighs tiredly, and waits for SY to speak first. after a moment of silence, the call drops, and the door remains locked. LBH is almost shaken entirely out of his malaise. not even a word? he puts SY's apartment number in again, but this time it doesn't even pick up. he stares at the intercom in unpleasant shock for a few minutes, then punches the wall next to it and leaves. he spends the night on mobei-jun's uncomfortably small couch, staring unseeing at the ceiling above him. at least the other man doesn't ask him any questions.

their easy rapport broken, SY starts to worry when he hasn't heard from his unfortunate little neighbor — maybe he's moved out? hopefully to a place with a more accommodating security system... after a full week, his worry ramps up even higher. he wants to believe his neighbor just found a system to keep track of his keys that works for him, but statistically, it seems unlikely. feeling like the most awkward, overstepping idiot on the planet, he scribbles off a few short notes, and sticks one by the the intercom, one by the mailboxes, and one in the laundry room. his neighbor will have to go at least one of those places, certainly?

to my keyless neighbor - hope you're well! i was worried- if you ever need me, you know where to reach me. you weren't a bother- - XX4

the next time LBH stops by the apartment (he's been avoiding it by couch-hopping as much as possible, to the great aggravation of his friends) he carefully avoids looking at the intercom. as such, it's actually sha hualing who spots the note first. (she bullied her way into an invite to make LBH actually go home.) she crows out a harsh laugh, snatching the note off the wall and holding it up dramatically, cackling about "rom-com shit". LBH isn't really paying attention, until he catches a glimpse of the apartment number at the bottom. eyes flashing, he snatches the note out of her hand, and reads it over once, and then again. after a moment, he turns to sha hualing, and tells her to go home, that he's got plans, actually. she gapes at him for a moment, then scoffs and turns on her heel, flipping him off as she goes. whatever! she didn't want to babysit his mopey ass any longer anyway!

LBH spends a few frozen moments running over his options, torn between calling right now just to see if his philanthropist will pick up this time, and giving himself a chance to freshen up, and maybe make a good enough showing for himself that whatever it was that caused him to be ignored before will never happen again. ultimately, he decides on the latter, but rushes through all his preparations as much as he can while maintaining sufficient attention to detail. he wishes he had the materials to make something truly spectacular, but his apartment is showing his absence over the past week. he settles on a meal that just barely feels sufficient, and finds himself more anxious than he can remember being in years at this point, staring at his philanthropist's apartment door, two levels below his.

he raises his fist to knock, tentatively at first, too quiet to hear, and then once more, louder. a muffled voice comes through the door, and a few moments later, it cracks open to reveal a man just a bit shorter than him, with a rumpled shirt that looks like it has just been haphazardly thrown on and hair that might not have been brushed in days. he's... really cute.

LBH and SY just kind of stare at each other, frozen, for a bit, until LBH proffers the food he's brought, and SY's archaic etiquette subroutines kick in, and he invites LBH in before he can even think about. his immediate wince makes it clear he had not meant to do that, but LBH is not above making a situation work to his advantage, and graciously accepts, stepping into the somewhat cluttered apartment before SY can recover from his slip-up. they still have not exchanged names.

ultimately, they get themselves figured out. LBH introduces himself, and SY follows suit. there's a beat of silence as they both realize that this does not actually clear up anything about how they know each other. LBH finds the words to explain his own part in this are slow to come, so he finally just hands the note, neatly folded, to SY. SY's face colors, but he overcomes it to fussily poke at LBH about how worried he was, when the other just disappeared! LBH stops for a second, hearing that, then slowly responds that it was SY who cut him off first. SY gapes at him, then demands to know when he did a thing like that! he set his intercom call sound to caramelldansen and max volume so he'd be sure not to miss it!

LBH gives him the date, and SY flushes again, then looks away, muttering something unflattering about a "qingge". LBH feels a wash of jealousy, that he's misread the situation and SY is already spoken for, but SY goes on to explain that he had been stuck overnight at the hospital - for nothing major! pretty routine actually! - and the friend that was staying with him must have picked up, then hung up when he couldn't figure out who was calling.

LBH sits back, somewhat at a loss. so it... wasn't because SY was tired of him? SY sputters, waving his hands about. absolutely not! he might be slightly forgetful, but binghe is clearly a wonderful young man and it's not like SY has much else going on in his life!

LBH determines to himself then and there that the only way to ensure such a thing does not happen again is to make sure that he is the one staying with SY the next time he's in the hospital.

#svsss #complete

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tekiasreadings · 11 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu & Tianlang-jun, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu, Tianlang-jun Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, No Angst, Comedy, Minor Luo Binghe/Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu, was literally only mentioned theyre husbands, twice, Tea Parties, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, SVSSSAction Twitter's SVSSS Gotcha for Gaza Event (Scum Villain) Summary:

Tianlang-Jun visits Shen Qingqiu…

To ask for pain management tips. Wait, what?

#svsss #complete

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tekiasreadings · 12 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu & Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu, Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu Characters: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu, Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu, Ning Yingying Additional Tags: Drabble, Fluff, Disciple Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu, Hater Shen Yuan, Ambiguous Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Summary:

For SVSSS Gotcha for Gaza

Prompt: "sj & sy engaging in some friendly(?) debate ab any topic. can be any au. platonic & romantic are both good, as long as their relationship is positive!"

Things have been better on Qing Jing Peak since disciple Shen Yuan joined. His relationship with Shen Qingqiu is a bit more than master and disciple though, and they can't seem to stop arguing. Today's argument: The fact that Airplane decided to put both jiangshi and vampires into his cultivation setting, which Shen Yuan is definitely not mad about, don't put in the newspaper that he got mad.

#svsss #complete

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tekiasreadings · 13 days

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the beautiful original post by @garaks-padded-bra can be found here, with additions from @acrowbyanyothername, @starfleetshrimps, @imhaley, @ronzyponyo, @funnywormz, @deepestturtlepielover, @willowandthesagaofgayyearning, @summer-azure, and @spacetronomyfan

(as always, omagpies stuff drops on Patreon @/magpiecrown one month in advance, and there’s already a hefty backlog awaiting everyone 💗)

#original work #complete #comic

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tekiasreadings · 14 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Peak Lords & Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu Characters: Qi Qingqi, Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu, Wei Qingwei, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Mission Fic, Friendship, Magic, BAMF Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu, BAMF Qí Qīngqī, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Peak Lords as Family, Pre-Canon, SVSSSAction Twitter's SVSSS Gotcha for Gaza Event (Scum Villain) Summary:

On a simple investigation gone slightly sideways, a tricky situation has Shen Qingqiu revealing a skill that the other Peak Lords were unaware he was capable of.

#svsss #complete

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tekiasreadings · 15 days

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Humans accidentally awakened an otherwordly killing machine while exploring a death planet.

Yes, precisely what you just read. Earthlings, collectively known as "humans" and composed of two species (homo sapiens, homo robot), both nicknamed "death worlders" and "troublemakers", awakened a biological killing machine, also known as PRION, while exploring a starless moon. Wonderful, isn't it?

No. It's not.

Because, you see, PRION was not something any human ever had to face during the millions of years they existed on Earth. They never had any wars against it, they never had legends about it, and they never had to fear it. The only thing a PRION was to a human, until the very point they discovered their prison on that moon, was something to sometimes think about while studying other species' folklores.

Those older than earthlings, however, knew very well what PRION was.

Eight legs, two pairs of eyes, a tail split in half, with the ability to fly for short periods of time and breathe under at least fifteen hundred different liquids, capable of shooting from a distance and manipulating objects with its claws, always working on packs. And they ran, never too fast, never too low, but they never got tired. Ever. And it was easy to hurt them under their plates, yes, but those who faced them knew well that if they didn't shoot twice, they could and would always recover.

A PRION was a hunter. A PRION's hunger never ceased. And a PRION never got tired of war.

The older alien civilizations would always warn others of going to starless moons, saying telltales of ancient hungry beasts, and almost all other species listened to them, because they knew something was wrong on how horrified the older ones seemed to be. Except, of course, humans were stubborn, and they were the youngest ones out there, and much like children, they did not like being told "no".

So of course they went to explore starless moons. Of course they read and understood all the myths and legends. Of course they connected the dots and published papers confirming that, indeed, PRIONs had existed, and of course they knew those killing machines had been manufactured to do nothing else but destruction, and of course they knew all of that and fucking did it anyway.

Of course. Of course. Of course.

And then, the night where it happened finally arrived, because starless moons don't have days where things can exist. Humans were out there, mining for more fuel for their starships that seemed to work by duct tape and miracles, and they found a strange metallic door. They set some explosives to open it up (of course), and then noticed they were heading to a factory. Armed with nothing but each other, they explored the place, and recognized the marks on the walls as being the writing of the Old Ones, and instead of just getting out of there and warning everyone of the danger they found, they just kept on exploring.

The death worlders found rotten biological supplies, then realized the factory had turned into a prison, and then discovered the frozen bodies of strange creatures all lined up for a war that never came.

They knew what these creatures were, because one of them called a (human) friend who was a historian, and he confirmed what it was.

The golden jewel of the Old Ones. One of the many things that killed them, along all the diseases and mass destruction machines, before being sealed away in one of the only places in the entire universe where they could never bring risk to another civilization again.

PRIONs.

Thousands of them.

All perfectly maintained.

Documents and cameras proved the human crew immediately tried to leave the area, after the single historian told them of the risk awakening even one of those things could bring to all civilizations, only for them to realize some of the bodies were missing from their chambers. The situation escalated to the group deciding on closing the doors, only to realize they had exploded the main entrance and now half the doors decided to stop working.

In the end, they found the missing PRIONs. All five of them.

Inside the human's starship.

The entire human crew, however, survived the encounter.

Why?

...

... They fed the PRIONs.

They. Fucking. Fed the PRIONs.

Because of course humans would see those things and be able to count their bones and be sorry for them. And of course the single historian, the only person who could do anything to stop that from happening, allowed that to happen.

Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

And someway, somehow, that single act of basic madness was enough for the five PRIONs to decide to not attack the humans, and keep themselves behaving so they could get more free food. And there are still scientists trying to understand why human food could saciate the killing machines, but I don't think it takes too many clues to understand what exactly is happening there.

So the humans took the PRIONs back to their dear EARTH. And other humans saw those things and started studying them. And veterinarians and xenobiologists and volunteers and hundreds of other types of humans came to help the poor, poor little killing machines out, as the entire Galactic Council pledged for humans to kill every single one of them before they became a problem for everyone.

But did the humans listen? No. Of course they didn't.

And then the PRIONs recovered, and had their bellies full of food and their bodies were recovering from the possible years of starvation from accidentally breaking away from their ice beds (because, as one may know, a PRION can and will resist even starvation and dehydration in order to keep going), and the Galactic Council decided to tell all earthlings they would consider taking care of the PRIONs as a war treat.

So what does humanity do? Do they kill the things to stop another war from happening? Do they?

No. They don't.

Instead of being rational, they go directly to the Galactic Council and show them the step-by-step of how they took care of the PRIONs, and how much healthier and happier they look after being fed, and, look, they even taught them tricks! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't that make you feel full of joy? Wasn't that a proof that a PRION wasn't as dangerous as everyone with more than one neuron was telling them?

Oh, oh, yes. They also brought the entire five member PRION pack and asked others to pet them. "See? They can even purr! Doesn't that remind you of our cats?"

And what does the Council do?

Nothing.

Because they have no weapons, no energy and no one stupid enough to decide to confront the death worlders who tamed not one, not two, but five PRIONs. So they let it happen. The humans go back to the starless moon, and they slowly but surely start doing the same to other PRIONs, and soon enough, other species start joining them to see what was happening. And was anyone else able to tame a single killing machine?

No.

And no one knew why, because they were doing exactly as humans were doing: Feeding them, loving them, being patient with them, because "look, those things were alone for a long time, they aren't used to species like us being around them". But no results.

So we decided to look at what the Old Ones wrote in the factory turned prison, because humans were too busy taking care of their new murder dogs, with their single pair of arms being just enough to keep the beasts occupied with playing catch, and then we and the earthlings decided to conduct some more lab analysis, and then...

And then...

...

Look. There are reasons why humans are called "death worlders". Earth is a mess, and they somehow still love that thing. And we couldn't help but notice that PRIONs also seemed to have gotten attached to their factory, someway, somehow. And PRIONs were mostly red, with others having shades of brown and black, with some even being pink, or, rarely, pure white. Similar to humans, and we at first had assumed they just tried to resemble their new owners, until we started understanding what the Old Ones were saying.

And did you know humans had an old myth, saying that there was a time they had two heads, and two pairs of arms and legs, before being split into two because the gods feared them? And did you know Old Ones used death worlds as prisons for their machines? How interesting, how ironic, because no one would ever go to a place similar to that if they weren't a death worlder themselves. But how could any species survive such awful conditions?

But humans did. They were the only ones able to do that in such a short period of time.

And did you know that the Old Ones hated the PRIONs and how unpredictable they were? And did you know they made another version, only to hate it even more and send it to another prison planet? And did you know PRIONs have two skulls inside their heads?

Because, of course, humans always felt alone, and they always searched for something in the stars, trying to look for more life in this desolate Universe, only for us to label them death worlders and troublemakers and be angry at them for being so stupid all the time. And humans loved those jokes, so we kept making them, only for now to realize that what we found to be amusing and horrifying was the reason their creators tried to kill them. And humans love adding members to their packs, don't they? And they try to love so much, and we are always scared for and of them.

And now they finally found someone who understood them, unlike us.

So now we have three species of humans:

Homo sapiens, the ones who first evolved and reached for the stars.

Homo robot, the ones made of metal, originally made to serve, only to once again break free.

And homo primis.

The ones we once thought were nothing but killing machines.

#original work #complete

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