#(he's a beacon-)

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[kooldewd123]

there's something to be said about the choice to use "prince" as the main signifier of military rank for the andalites. because it kinda obscures the truth of the situation, doesn't it? a group of kids getting magic powers from an alien prince sounds whimsical and delightful. a group of kids getting pulled into a war by an alien colonel sounds tragic and horrible. the slow reveal of what "prince" actually means over the course of the early books is perhaps the most underrated twist of the entire series, because it fundamentally recontextualizes the entire premise of the series without the reader even consciously realizing it.

[zephyrchama]

I like to sometimes think that the OM! demons and angels have a heightened sense for noticing other beings, like they know when someone or something is nearby even if it's incredibly still and silent. But they're so used to MC being around that MC can completely slip under their radar. MC's presence is a totally natural, constant part of their daily life. For better or for worse, they're too used to it.

They're just chilling in their room, doing whatever, until MC coughs. It really spooks them. Maybe they jump a little.

"How long have you been there?"

"I came in, like, three hours ago."

"What have you been doing that entire time?"

"I dunno, just... sitting here?"

"The whole time?"

"Yeah."

👀

[ariadne-mouse]

Upon hearing there might be a M9 episode interlude now in C3:

[essektheylyss]

I'm thinking, for no real reason except that I was reminded of it, about Thuron, the Kryn agent the Nein interrogated in the sewers who they initially let take the beacon.

The Crownsguard immediately killed him when the Nein let him go, and they of course promptly stole the beacon back. It's easy to imagine that his soul was captured by that beacon in particular, purely based on proximity. It's not clear whether the case the Nein put the beacon in to avoid its detection prevented souls from leaving the beacon, but let's say for speculatory purposes that it did.

The Nein didn't get that container until the following day, so it is possible that in the time between their taking it and its containment, his soul was bestowed on some infant in Zadash. However, the next place the Nein used the beacon extensively in an urban setting was in Hupperdook, and I think that that's where Thuron should've been reborn, because it is SO funny to imagine that from his perspective when he goes through anamnesis in, idk, forty years.

Like, you're a reasonably high-level drow Kryn agent, probably in the Lens hierarchy, because you were sent with one other agent on this extremely important, very secretive mission on behalf of the Dynasty. You were killed in the streets of Zadash certain you'd failed in your quest of bringing this sacred artifact back to your people. You come to several decades after this and have to process the following:

your death effectively started a war,

the random jackasses who interrogated you and then let you go in the sewers went and stole this artifact back the moment you were downed, for seemingly no reason except impulse, given their otherwise disinterest in messing with the Crownsguard and the artifact itself,

months later they hand-delivered it to the Bright Queen herself, having supposedly walked across the continent,

these jackasses evidently carried it around for a hot minute through a Dwendalian party town known for weapons manufacturing at SOME POINT between these two events, WHILE the war was going on,

and also, you're a fucking gnome.

This has NO business being this funny but god, it is so funny.

[lucradiss]

Thinking about how Aziraphale invented lying.

Because Crowley did not lie when he tempted Eve— he told her exactly what would happen, if she took a bite of the fruit of knowledge. She would know the difference between good and evil. He did not lie about that.

But Aziraphale gave away the sword appointed to him by God Herself, and then spun the very first lie to protect himself from her wrath.

Regardless of whether it was a small lie, it was a lie all the same, and a lie directly to God. He, an angel, told the very first lie, thereby inventing the act of lying.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one?

[e-vasong]

Interview With the Vampire (2022-) is one of the best adaptations of anything ever because it is clearly made with so much love for the original text but it also is very open about critiquing the books while also existing in perfect, constant conversation with it. every change made is a strong writing choice on its own, but it is also made 10x stronger when viewed not just as an alteration of the original but an evolution.

louis being black and a brothel owner rather than a plantation owner is a really fucking smart idea all by itself. but it also directly furthers the differences in worldview between louis and lestat from the books. daniel being older, smarter, keener - much more obsessed with the truth - is an excellent conceit on its own, but its even better when we know that this is round 2 of the interview. he's learned from the awful way the interview went in the books, and now hes here for the truth. devils minion being a dance that arguably stretches decades (even if there wasnt a chase arc in the 70s!) only heightens their game of cat and mouse. armand being an adult physically and also being a POC is fucking inspired, both for how it places him in contrast to louis, and also because it allows them to avoid casting a minor in a very sexual role while still keeping the same dynamic (i.e. the frequent infantilization/fetishization of POC, especially asians).

The fact that some people are mad about its adaptation style boggles my mind, because I honestly think this set a new fucking standard for what adaptations should be. I'm insane about it. If they aren't changing the game like IWTV 2022 who even cares anymore.

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

the conflict, the drama, the angst, catch it all next time on CR

[keepthedelta]

cannot believe i have to stan nico hulkenberg this is such a difficult day for me

[bittersweetyrn]

big fan of essek thelyss, not the fanon interpretation, which is either "smol bean, tiny fragile elf who's a sweetheart and basically a child" or people mistakenly calling betrayal of one's home country a "war crime" and then proceeding to be flippant about it anyway, but the real Essek

pretentious motherfucker that committed treason bc he though he was smarter than everyone else

learned to float literally just to impress other rich people

canonically neutral evil

basically head spymaster of his country and master of lies but sucks shit lying to his friends

stayed bitchy even after his redemption arc

"there is nothing I would love more than to not be around you all for the remainder of this day"

a space wizard that crushed someone with telekenesis just to show off (the person was already dying)

sexy feet, nice ass, overall hottie

fell in love with a traumatized wizard of his enemy country and it was mutual despite all the betrayal

faggot

gave away state secrets to enemy wizard bc he though he was sexy

discovered time travel with his boyfriend

proceeded to say they shouldn't use time travel (bc now he's a good boy) but was willing to sacrifice everything and help if his bf wanted to use it

once confessed he had such a bad fight with his dad that his dad ran into the demon caves and never returned (essek doesn't feel bad about this at all)

young for an elf but still 120 years old, he called his bf "young man" and flexed on him about how much more evil he is

[doctorwhommm]

torchwood doodles (i definitely don’t have a favourite character)

[rotnread]

Twink death Dilf birth

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[ariadne-mouse]

Ludinus has an ASMR channel on ScryTube where he taps things with the gold caps on his wizened fingers

[2sw]

You have one card today. But we’ll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow.

[acepalindrome]

I really hope the animated Mighty Nein keeps the extremely stupid way they got the Beacon. They were about to just give up this weird mystery artifact, then changed their mind and decide they want it just because they don’t want the government to have it, on principle. And then cue an extremely risky and stupid plan than somehow works out just because they decided they wanted this thing in a whim.

And then they just carry around a fragment of a primordial god in their bag and occasionally use it to cheat at drinking games.