mobile fusion

Neko Atsume: Steven Universe Edition 2.0!

So I want to thank everyone who has followed me, reblogged, and liked all because of my first steven universe cats. The first post got to 10,500ish notes, which is really crazy to think about! I have more than doubled my followers, with this blog now approaching 200 followers! To think this all happened over some cute cats is inconceivable.

I will be going back and doing some different stuff than the cats for a little while. I have a really big art piece coming out soon. So, be on the lookout for that! Again, thanks so much peps!



anonymous asked:

How about AC. going away to war au for SteveTony?

I’m not sure what the AC stands for (probably something really obvious, so I’m sorry I missed it), but here’s our going to war fic! It’s about 7200 words, so look for the cut if you’re on mobile!

Pacific Rim fusion/AU

Tony sat up in bed and watched Steve sleep. His chest rose and fell in great swells, as even and regular as mechanical bellows. Outside their cabin, Tony could hear the clatter of footsteps. It had become a never ending soundtrack in the frenzy of battle preparations with the rift open once more.

Steve stirred as the clock ticked closer to 0500. Tony had once hacked the station’s chrono and tried to reset the clocks, but Steve hadn’t been fooled and Fury had come down on him like the proverbial anvil from the sky. The chrono clicked over from 0459 to 0500, and Steve’s eyes popped open. He stared at the ceiling for several heartbeats, his breath frozen in his chest.

“It’s Sol 158,” Tony said, “3498.”

Drawing in a shuddery breath, Steve relaxed. His spine went liquid and he stretched like a cat, a smile blooming over his face as his eyes turned up to Tony.

“Good morning, Captain Gorgeous,” Tony said, leaning down to set their lips together. Steve’s smile stretched further and he nibbled on Tony’s lower lip.

“Morning, Captain Space Turnip.” Steve’s chest shook on a laugh and he sat up, abdominal muscles rippling against Tony’s forearm as he levered up in one annoyingly impressive movement. Steve wrapped sleep warmed arms around him and nuzzled his face against Tony’s neck. He mouthed at Tony’s pulse point.

The commlink beeped, and the holographic display clicked on just out of sight. “Rogers! Stark! Get your asses out of bed. Contact at the outer perimeter.” Tony couldn’t see his face, but he heard the hesitation there. “It’s a big one.”


Three years earlier…

Tony had his arms full of his flight suit and toolbox. He was leaning slightly backwards and to the left to see around the bundle of polymer fabric, which was apparently the wrong side to keep an eye on. The impact of the other body drove his toolbox into his gut and he stumbled backward the bulkhead. His left shoulder hit the corner hard and he cussed, dropping his whole bundle and sliding to the floor.

“I am so sorry!”

Irritated, Tony batted the stranger’s helping hand away and climbed back to his feet. His shoulder burned where it had hit the corner, and his suit was scattered all over the corridor. His toolbox, at least, had survived the drop.

“You’re… Tony Stark aren’t you?”

Suppressing a groan, Tony looked up at the human bowling ball’s face for the first time. He was absolutely gorgeous with blond hair that was curiously well-styled considering that he was wearing a pilot’s undersuit and carrying a helmet under his arm. He had the double bars of a paired pilot on his chest, though Tony didn’t recognize him – he must have been one of the new grads. His face was almost absurdly symmetrical, his shoulder to hip ratio was very nice, and he had fantastically large hands. Too bad he was gearing up to be an asshole.

“Actually, I,” Tony said, stuffing his toolbox under his arm and scooping his suit up by one leg, “Am a space turnip.”

The pilot blinked at him uncertainly and then said, “Hi, Space Turnip. My name is Steve.”

Keep reading

i know there’s a background chatter piece in the institute that talks about gen one and two synths needing to conserve their power levels and not go flat while working which implies some kind of… battery? cyclic power source? power cable port in a suitably hilarious body part?

but i’ve also read a few stories that posit that nick has a digestive power source (ie eating available carby/sugary food and plant matter to create an exothermic and/or pressurised gas source to power an internal generator) and can i say that is hands down my all time favourite theory because it’s basically saying that nick valentine runs on fancy lads and farts.

“why are diamonds so big?” a Theory

Alright, so the theory that all diamonds are fusions has been tossed around a lot. And I’d like to put a little more thought into this just for the sake of FUN. this doesnt make sense feel free to ask questions / point things out that i missed

Keep reading