#Robot Ambulance

[thedoctorloveshis1hercompanions]

Doctor Who Parallel

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A10

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: Interstellar Marriage

Characters: Muneuji, Ushio, Nagi, Netaro, Akuta

Summary: The party is in full swing after the toast. Netaro finally arrives and hands out some colorful buns, however… 

Thank you jes @arcanecrayonn and Sou @/716chr for helping me tackle Chihiro's lines! Thank you Jelly @/jellyfish_apple and Aurora @/azurecrystalz for checking over my Akuta and Kuguri lines too!

Behemoth of a chapter, hope you guys enjoy!

Location: HAMA House - Dining room

Momiji: (I’m worried about Kafka, he’s been sharing a drink with the ward mayors one after the other… There's a lot of alcohol in his system now. I remember he could barely hold his liquor when we celebrated his 20th birthday…)

Kafka: *yawn* There you are Chief~ Carry me~

Momiji: Huh!? I take my eyes off of you for a second and you’ve already gotten yourself this drunk? 

Yukikaze: He must have been very excited to see the company finally coming together. Shall I carry him instead?

Momiji: Ah… Thank you, but I should probably get Sakujiro-san to handle him. 

Momiji: (What happened in Kobe couldn’t be helped, but he’d probably sulk if he found out Yuki-nii carried him again.)

Yukikaze: Oh, but I just saw him leaving with Liguang, Kinari and Yodaka to play mahjong.

Momiji: Really, mahjong now?

Kafka: I don’t wanna~ I’m not sleeping till Netaro gets here! We’re gonna take over the world together~

Momiji: (After interviewing Netaro on Daniel’s recommendation, the two of them really hit it off.)

Momiji: (It’s nice to find a colleague you can get along with on a personal level huh, Kafka?)

Chihiro: Aww, Chii was thinkin’ of snappin’ some cute selfies with Chiefy, but looks like she’s totally busy with Prez right now~ Oh well, maybe later then.

Tao: Yeah. …? Wait, do you hear that?

Chihiro: Huh?

??: ….meat buns~ get high on our meat buns~ made fresh everyday~

Netaro: So delicious they’d drive you mad! Would you like to dig into one?

Laika: Bun! 

Chihiro: OH-EM-GEE!! These buns are, like, super duper dazzably adorbs☆ And your robopet is SO slaying that gyaru fit! Chii’s totally obsessed~♪

Tao: Oh, are you Yowa-san, from the meat bun cafe? They did say you’d be coming in late.

Netaro: Indeed, you are correct! I am Netaro Yowa, soon-to-be 18th ward mayor! I was a teensy bit delayed as I was specially preparing these new flavored meat buns, exclusively for this party! 

Chihiro: Chii’s name’s Chihiro! And this is Taotao! These mystery buns look mega delish and poppin‘~♪

Netaro: These ones over here are the “Peculiar Interstellar Marriage☆Natto-Curry Meat Buns,” and on this side are the “Bon Voyage of Laughter☆Cheesy-Shroom Meat Buns!”

Laika: Nattou~♪ Nanana~ Pipipi~

Chihiro:No way! Burstin’ into song like that, seriously, that’s just shooo freakin’ KYUTE ☆ Taro-ppu, can Chii like, snap some selfies with you two? Lemme post them on dazzle too, pretty pleaaase~

Netaro: Why of course, Chii~!

Tao: Crazy how they’re already on a nickname-basis… 

Chihiro: Hey cutie, d’you have fingers~? C’mon, make a heart-sign with Chii~

Tao: Don’t mind me enjoying one of these buns while you have your photoshoot. Let’s see… I think I’ll go with the cheesy mushroom bun.

Chihiro: Then Chii’s gonna go with this totes rad lookin’ natto curry bun~ Nom-nom time~♪

Tao and Chihiro: *munch*

Netaro and Laika: ….. 

Tao: Mmm…mph? Pft— Haha, hahahahahaha!! W-what’s going on, I can't stop laughing!

Chihiro: Huh!? Taotao…!?

Tao: Hahahahaahahha—! 

Chihiro: Waitwaitwait! Chii’s, like, got zero idea what’s goin’ on rn, but isn’t a Taotao mega ultra LOL moment like this is equivalent to rollin’ a SSR!? Gotta record this ASAP!!

Tao: Oh man– My stomach hurts…! 

Laika: Nattou, Giovanni, piroppu~

Chihiro: Gosh, he’s sooo cute, rollin’ on the floor like that ☆ Ugh, my maternal instincts are just overflowing right now! What is this feeling!? I’ve never felt this way before! I literally can’t stop snappin’ pics~♪

Toi: I-It’s Chii-sama…! I’m walking on the same ground as Chii-sama… Breathing in the same air…! 

Toi: Ahh… I need to express my gratitude for this miracle with a prayer! Thank you for letting me be born in the same generation as my favorite idol! 

Mashiro: Chii-sama is, without a doubt, one of the highest lifeforms to grace this planet! 

Sonia: Oh wow~ So Chii-shama is one of the ‘chosen ones’? I shee, I shee! 

Chouun: …I believe that all life is equal, but I shall refrain from commenting further. 

Momiji: Oh, Netaro-kun is finally here. Kafka’s already asleep though. 

Kuguri: Enjoying yourself, cica*?

Ten: We came over ‘cuz we didn’t get to toast together yet. Cheers to finding all the members~

Momiji: Thank you, both of you. Cheers! 

Momiji: (It’s inevitable that new bonds would be formed as more people moved into the dorms but… I have to say, Ten-kun and Kuguri-san are an odd pair, I wonder when they got so friendly with each other?)

Ten: Oh yeah, I saw Shuumai barking his head off when that meat bun guy showed up earlier.

Kuguri: Fufu, perhaps it's some wild instinct at play… Are you sure you should be letting something like that in here?

Momiji: Like ‘that’… Are you talking about Netaro-kun? Sure, he’s a little odd but, I don’t really think he’s dangerous. 

Momiji: (According to Toi-kun’s reading, Netaro-kun is someone we need to lead us to his brother. I made a promise to help him, and I plan to see it through.) 

~~~

Akuta: Mph, everythin’ looks SO super tasty I can’t stop stuffing myself!

Akuta: I’m gonna eat a lifetime’s wortha food here and now! Nobody get in my way, got it!? 

Ushio: Ugh, how many “seconds” is that already? I can barely stomach watching you let yourself go. 

Kiroku: But… Kurama… that’s your third plate… of yakisoba… too… 

Ushio: So? That has nothing to do with what I just said.

Kiroku: There’s… no need to… feel ashamed… It’s delicious… after all…. 

Ushio: Who said I was embarrassed? 

Muneuji: Hm… I’m still famished. I should go get seconds as well. 

Nanaki: I’m coming with you, I need more of this pizza— Hm?

Tao: Phew, it’s finally stopped… I laughed so hard I really thought I’d need stitches… 

Chihiro: Wha-wha-whaaa? Why’re there like, a gazillion pics of Tao in my gallery? Weeeird, it’s like I got some kinda motherly instinct takin’ over me….

Netaro: Ahaha! I may have added just a teensy bit of a secret ingredient~ Right? Laika~

Laika: Shwatch*.

Nanaki: Huh, that’s…!? 

~~~(flashback)

Netaro: “Euclidean Deconstruction - Instant Undressing Pen.” A lovely invention, if I do say so myself~

Netaro: You see, human clothing can be so… ugh. They’re too restrictive! 

Kiroku: …Where did… he…come from…?

Nanaki: No, before that, who the heck is he? How’d he get all the way here? The door’s behind us… 

Akuta: Hold up, where’s the egg?

~~~(end flashback)

Nanaki: Ah…! 

Muneuji: What’s wrong? You’re shaking like a leaf.

Nanaki: I-It’s that guy from before…!

Muneuji: ?

Muneuji: —...!

Akuta: Aw yeah, I can feel the calories already!

Muneuji: Everyone, I need your attention.

Kiroku: ?

Muneuji: The strange individual we encountered on top of the school roof after our HosLive, is here right now. The intelligence operative who took the egg with him.

Ushio: Wha!? No way… 

Nanaki: No matter which way you look at him, it’s the same guy. Can’t forget someone who looks like… that. 

Akuta: …F’real? Don’t remember the dude. 

Ushio: Yeah, didn’t expect much from someone with your brain cells, Idiotake. But… Why's he here? It doesn’t make sense. 

Ushio: Is he the 18th ward mayor? The one they said would come in late. 

Muneuji: Most likely. He must be Netaro Yowa-san. 

Nanaki: What was it again… He was from a secret operation called… Ponzu or something—

Akuta: Yorozu!

Ushio: So you remember that. 

Kiroku: The… egg is… with him…!

Ushio: What?

Kiroku: Over… there… 

Laika: Pipipi. Jijiji. Bween.

Nanaki: That’s… not the egg, right? Looks like a regular pet robot to me. 

Ushio: I agree with Panda. 

Kiroku: No… That’s… definitely… 

Muneuji: You were indeed the one who had the strongest bond with the egg. I believe in Kinugawa’s intuition.

Nanaki: Putting the egg aside, you think it’s okay for us to be near that guy?

Ushio: Who knows… He seems dangerous. We should probably keep our distance from him, unless you want to get caught up in explosions or have your clothes stripped off or something… 

Akuta: Hey so, did we meet on the school roof back in summer?

Netaro: Hm?

Ushio: What is he— Why the hell would he just march up to the guy and ask him that!?

Akuta: Well y’see, my friends over there think we’ve met before so—

Akuta: Right, guys!?

Ushio: Pretend you don’t know him… 

Nanaki: …Wait, Muneuji!?

Muneuji: Pardon me. I am the 8th ward mayor, Muneuji Kaguya. Would you perchance remember me?

Netaro: Uji, your eyes are most beautiful indeed. I can’t help but feel I’ve seen them somewhere long ago— 

Muneuji: ….. 

Netaro: But, I cannot pinpoint the memory. How about we hold our greetings now instead?

Muneuji: ….. 

Akuta: In that case, heyo, nice to meetcha! Je m’appelle Akuta, superhero at your service! 

Ushio: Muu-chan, let’s go! You, too! 

Muneuji: …I understand now. It’s because he is a member of the Yorozu.

Muneuji: Precisely because they are intelligence operatives, they blend in with society by pretending to be civilians. He must not be able to reveal his identity as he did on the roof.

Ushio: Muu-chan, what are you mumbling about?

Nanaki: So, he’s saying that he doesn’t remember us, right?

Muneuji: Indeed. If that is how he wishes to spin this tale, then we must act accordingly. We should not hinder his mission. 

Kiroku: ….. 

Ushio: Right, let’s leave it at that.

Nanaki: Hmm… Well, okay, I guess. 

Akuta: ‘Kay~ Then I don’t care either~ Let’s get back to digging into some good grub! 

Muneuji: …..

~~~

Nagi: *deep sigh*

Sonia: Are you ok, Nagi-shan? 

Nagi: Yeah… 

Sonia: I guess you’re shtill worried… 

Nagi: Yeah. At this rate… something bad is bound to happen. 

Nagi: It might be better to just go back to the shop and hand out flowers… 

Sonia: But… It’s really cold outside at this time of night… 

Nagi: It’s better that way. 

Sonia: ….. 

Nagi: Yeah. This is for the best… Let’s go back. 

Sonia: Nagi-sha–

Momiji: Oh, Nagi-kun, what are you doing all the way here?

Nagi: …urk. Um, I… 

Sonia: Y-You shee, we got a last-minute order just now…!

Nagi: That’s right. It was very sudden.

Sonia: Y-Yesh, even though we closed the store temporarily just to come to the party, geez!

Momiji: I see… got it. We’re bringing out the cake, so come back soon! 

Nagi: O-Okay, thank you. Then… 

Momiji: Take care! 

Nagi: Urk…!

If player character is female: Momiji: Huh, w-why are you suddenly clutching at your chest!?

If player character is male: Kaede: Why’re you suddenly clutching at your chest!?

Nagi: It’s nothing, um… I’ll be off, then…! 

Sonia: Are you okay!? Nagi-shan! 

Nagi: I’m okay… for now.

Nagi: But, my happiness is overflowing… This is real bad. I need to balance it… 

Nagi: …Let’s go, Sonia. Handing out flowers in the freezing cold should help water down this feeling. 

Sonia: Okay! 

Notes:

A very minor difference between Kaede and Momiji's response to Nagi, being that Momiji is more prone to stuttering when surprised, but I thought it would be good to point out for anyone interested.

Swatch is an exclamation that Ultraman uses.

Cica is how Kuguri refers to the Chief. It means kitten.

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Masterlist

[viktorreadscomics]

Doom Patrol: Weight of The Worlds #2 by Gerard Way

[weak-hero]

love when doctor who writers show you the horrible consequences of having corporations controlling every aspect imaginable

[starleska]

this is exactly what it feels like trying to figure out how to draw Archie's face 😂💖

[203y]

honestly hope valves deadlock takes off in popularity bc the potential SFM porn would go craaaaaazy w this character roster lmao

[bkfisher]

Too funny!

Someone send a privatized medical transport-- I'm dying!!!

excellent names on the enemy team tonight

[doctorhomo]

OKAY OKAY. OKAY.

OKAY.

IM GONNA LIST THEORIES/THINGS I THINK

the constant mentions of susan returning and the red herring of susan triad is not just a red herring. it would be weird to have her brought up that much and not actually do anything. sutekh was luring the doctor in - why? and what’s his leverage? why lure him in with promises of his granddaughter unless he actually has susan? what if susan is his leverage over the doctor? sutekh gains control of the universe or susan dies

the toymaker, maestro, the mara and the trickster were all mentioned - but only the trickster hasnt showed up recently, in the main show or in extras. toymaker in the giggle, maestro in TDC, the mara in the S20 minisode - why mention the trickster at all if he’s not relevant? ruby’s “mother” is the trickster. it wasnt pointing at the doctor, but rather at the tardis - or sutekh. the trickster is bending reality by sutekh’s side, bc i dont remember sutekh being too fussed about bending reality, whereas it was the tricksters whole thing in sja

whenever the trickster pulls someone from reality in sja, they were in an entirely white void. whenever something significant/emotional happens to ruby, it snows.

sutekh’s last minions were just robots dressed as mummies - not humans slotting themselves into peoples lives, and certainly not children (henry arbinger). but the trickster did use a child to his advantage in TToSJS

susan triad said she gets her ideas from her dreams - what should we expect to see from her? self driving ambulances? bubbles? space stations?

we saw both susan and harriet turn into the creepy skeleton minions after sutekh revealed himself, but not mrs flood, who clearly also works for sutekh. is she the trickster? is she ruby’s “mum’”? she’s been planted there for sutekh’s plan, but she’s clearly more important than h arbinger and s triad

i feel like it was glossed over far too quickly that carla was like “that’s the beast!” ?????? excuse me ma’am??????? not one single person acknowledged that and i feel INSANE

why was susan triad appearing in all those episodes?? was it just sutekh trying to taunt the doctor?? i think she was under something like a chameleon arch, and she’d have sworn she was human until her dying breath. she feels more like a sleeper agent than an undercover one

in conclusion (for now) i feel absolutely insane. i have been vibrating all day and i dont think i breathed during that episode. im going to sleep for 46 hours and hopefully ill wake up normal

[cherryredstars]

Hiiii congratulations in 1k you deserve it so much!

not sure if this is how to request a prompt for your 1k celebration but can I get "reader gets injured" with Simon please

1K Prompts

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Injury, Hospitals, Angst with Happy Ending, Indirect Mentions to Simon’s Abuse

Summary: He hasn't done it in a long while.

 Word Count: 1.8K (Not Edited)

There is nothing in the world.

It all disappears in a blur as his mind races. His mind, his thoughts, are faster than the car. He can’t make out anything zooming past his window, barely even recognizes the colors or the feel of the wheel under his hands. He’s jittery, highly agitated as he yells and slams on his horn. He doesn’t even process the words he’s saying, doesn’t even know if they’re even words. Maybe they’re just sounds, grunts and wordless screams. He doesn't know, doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter right now. Nothing matters right now. Nothing will matter until he makes it to the hospital. 

He needs a new car, he thinks. This one is too slow. It’s max isn’t fast enough. At this point, it’d be faster for him to get into a car accident and be driven in an ambulance to the hospital than this piece of junk truck. It makes him grit his teeth, swerving in and out of lanes and breaking traffic laws he doesn’t care to keep count of. He can vaguely make out Price’s car behind him, Johnny in the car behind Price’s. Don’t say that, he can hear Price say in his head, Don’t say that, Simon. Especially not now. 

Great, now his own fucking thoughts are making him feel guilty. 

He doesn’t really park, he runs over the curb actually. It causes everyone to jump back, throwing mean words at him that don’t land. The keys are still in the ignition, trusting Gaz will take care of it. Who gives a damn about that fucking car anyways, Simon thinks. He’s already made up his mind that he’s getting a new one. A sports car maybe, not for the looks but for the speed. He’ll have to do research on the fastest car money can buy when he’s home. When both of you are home. 

The cold air of the hospital makes him shiver once he runs inside. He looks lost for a second, eyes scanning the new environment for his goal. His eyes skip over the reception desk before rapidly darting back. Once his eyes lock on it, he walks with purpose. His eyes don’t stray, effectively maneuvering his body around the busy waiting room and lobby until he’s right in front of it. He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he plants them on the desk. His fingers tremble and jerk, skin flinching with the feeling of absolute dread running through his body. 

“How ca-”

“Last name Riley. Car accident.” He cuts the receptionist off. His voice has the hard edge he uses with the recruits. It doesn’t faze the receptionist. 

He’s impatient as they tap away at the computer, their eyebrows furrowed and they ask Simon for more information like your first name and sex. Simon gives them irritably, almost blowing a fuse when they ask for his relationship with the patient. 

“Spouse.” 

He has never been annoyed to declare that to someone before. But he finds little reason to be prideful and happy right now. 

“Still in surgery, but you and your group can wait in the waiting room to the left. A surgical doctor should be out shortly with news.”

Simon turns around, not even noticing the rest of 141 standing patiently behind him. His eyes scan them, nodding before he turns and walks robotically to the waiting room. Price politely thanked the receptionist for him before following after Simon. Simon throws himself into an empty seat, leg bouncing against the floor. His eyes find the doors that lead to surgical suits. His arms wrap around his chest, attempting to keep his racing heart in his chest. A harsh breath is exhaled from his nose, getting caught under his balaclava. It gets a few stares from some of the families in the waiting room, some clutching their smaller children closer to them. Simon would usually take it off for the sole purpose of not drawing attention to himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Or, he doesn’t feel like he can. It feels like it's the only thing keeping him together right now. If he takes it off, he’ll come crumbling down. The fake composure will die away with the exposure and he’ll die before knowing if you’re alright. Depending on the answer, he might not make it through the night. 

A cup is placed in front of his face and Simon follows the hand up to the face of Johnny. Simon takes it, the warmth feeling strange against his skin. He doesn’t drink from it. Johnny and him don’t exchange words, turning to take the seat across from him and next to Gaz. Price is in the chair next to Simon, all four of them silent. Johnny stares at Simon, Simon stares at the floor, Price flips through outdated magazines from the coffee table beside him, and Gaz is surveying the space. All of them are still clad in their military gear, just gotten off the plane when Simon-- when Ghost-- got the call. Gaz cracks his knuckles and Simon has to bite his tongue to rest the urge to tell him to shut up. 

He resorts to counting the seconds that pass in his head. He loses count whenever the steel doors open and a doctor and nurse comes out. His head snaps up, the boys following his line of sight as the doctor peers over at the clipboard the nurse has. He prepares to shoot up when the doctor’s surgical mask shifts with jaw movement. He starts back from one when the name being called isn’t Riley. He thinks his heart shrinks with every name that passes. Price always pats his back with a ‘the next one, mate’. 

Sometimes between the seconds and names, Simon finds his forehead leaning against his folded hands. His eyes are shut tightly and he tries to do something he hasn’t done in a long time, something he has believed to not work for a long time. Simon sits and he prays. He prays. He doesn’t remember if there is a process he's supposed to follow. He only remembers all his past prayers had been rushed, hiccuped statements made after his father left his room or when he heard the yelling in the kitchen. They never got answered.

Is he supposed to start with something? Is he supposed to have a rosary or a bible or something in his hands? His hands are still covered with dirt from the battlefield, he reeks of smoke and gunfire. Is he clean enough to be praying? Does God or whatever up there care? He hopes they don’t, hopes they give him a free pass just this once. He hopes they do it for your sake. He hopes and prays and hopes some more. Is it enough? It doesn’t feel like enough. 

Is Simon supposed to sweet talk them? Butter them up until their egos are fed and find him worthy of listening to. He isn’t good at that. Or does he need to be direct? Demanding what he wants and not backing down until he gets it? He’s really good at that. You would probably know what to do. Even if you don’t, you’d probably have a solution that makes sense. Everything makes sense when it's you. You make everything make sense. Simon doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. He doesn’t want to be reminded. 

He debates getting up. Debates if he should go to the receptionist and ask them where the hospital’s chapel is. Maybe he’ll find whatever the fuck the religious connection guy is and ask them how to pray. Ask them to teach him. Or maybe he’ll ask them to pray for you. He’s sure they have a better chance of being answered then he does. But a fear glues him to his seat. What if he leaves and your name gets called? What if he isn’t there when it happens? What if he isn’t there for you again? He sits and he hopes and he prays. 

Please. Please, whoever, whatever can hear me, don’t take them from me. Stop taking people I care about away from me.

He hopes it is enough. He hopes they hear him and they remember the shit they put him through. He hopes they take pity on him. Simon hates when people feel sorry for him. He hopes they feel really bad and really sorry and really, really awful for what he had to go through. He hopes they find him to be the most pitiful human there ever was to exist. He hopes it's enough to save you. He hopes they decided to be nice to him today. 

And they are. Holy fuck they are. 

The doctor comes out, a nurse with clipboard following three times. Simon gets up the fourth time, before the name is even called. Price and Johnny and Gaz stand with him. 

“Riley.”

He flies. He flies across the room, ‘Here. I’m here. That’s me.’ He doesn’t know if he says those words aloud or in his head. The doctor watches him approach and Simon almost collapses to the ground when his surgical mask moves. He doesn’t catch everything, his mind being too slow to follow. Traumatic brain trauma. Bleeding. Successful. Lucky. Strong. Fighter. Okay. 

Okay, okay, okay. 

He thinks Price keeps him upright when he grabs his arm to pat him in the back. Simon grabs him back, pulling him close and his shoulders shake as he hides his face. He feels like a kid, crying into his captain’s shoulder as relief washes over him. Price squeezes him. The two of them say nothing, and Johnny and Gaz excuse themselves to get everyone food from the hospital cafeteria. 

Later, Simon finds himself in your hospital room. The chair is slightly more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. The boys have gone home by now, promising to drop by and telling Simon to keep them updated. Usually, constant noise would irritate Simon. But he finds himself thankful every time the heart monitor beeps, praying the noise never stops. He must have dozed off because he’s confused when he feels the slight rubbing on his hand. The sound of the heart monitor is different, still consistent but a bit faster. 

He pulls his head from his arms, propping his chin on his forearm as his gaze drifts to your face. Your eyes are half-lidded and sleepy, face drenched in exhaustion. You are so absolutely beautiful that it's devastating. It punctures his lungs and deflates his body of any breath he will ever take. His heart beats rapidly, hand squeezing yours tightly as his spine straightens. He has to resist the urge to pull you to him and crush you against his frame. 

You give him a dopey smile, one stained with tiredness and the remains of the anesthetic. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is croaky and your speech is slurred. It’s beautiful and the most lovely sound to exist. 

Simon brings your knuckles to his chapped lips. He presses a firm kiss to them, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that a few drops of water drop onto your skin. 

“Hi.”

His voice is just as croaky and just as beautiful.

Got a little carried away with this one.

[revelboo]

Over it Now

Jazz x Reader- hurt

• Tires screaming on wet asphalt, Jazz rounds a lazy curving stretch of country road, pushing his speed into the redline in frustration. Because it’s his fault and this is the only way he can vent out the poisonous taste of failure. He’s supposed to know everything, be one step ahead of the Decepticons all the time. Optimus won’t say a word, but he has to be disappointed. He’s disappointed in himself. He speeds up, losing himself in reckless anger.

• Elbow deep in soapy water, you hesitate when you hear the crash. It sounds too close and you grab a towel, heading outside. For a moment all you can hear is the sound of frogs in the woods, the world peaceful. Then you see it.

• Breath locking in your lungs, you stare at the distant, fitful glow. People always take the curve too fast, but this lunatic was going so fast his car is down inside the woods well off the road for you to be able to see it from your porch. And then without really thinking, you’re running down the hill, feeling the rain-wet grass soaking your sneakers through.

• You fight your way through the brambles and undergrowth. Even with the swollen moon overhead, you can’t really see much except that glow. Headlights? It can’t be fire, it’s blue. “You okay?” Yelling as you keep pushing forward, you hear something. The sound of groaning metal and a loud crack.

• Fantastic, just a perfect end to a perfect day. Transforming so he can shove against the small tree that is partially on top of him, Jazz groans. But at least it can’t possibly get worse he decides, pushing clear of the tree to send it rolling. A sharp, pained cry is the universe’s response. Because of course it can.

• You’d frozen, staring at the impossibility of the wrecked car unfolding itself into a huge robot and then heaving the downed tree away like it’s a stick. There’s no time dodge, as it rolls into your leg and you crumple with a scream. Tears streaming down your face, you try to drag yourself away as the monstrous robot looms over you, big hands reaching for you. And you black out before the horror looming over you can tear you limb from limb.

• When you come to in the hospital, you lunge and nearly roll yourself right out of the bed as panic sparks through you. Your mind is a confused tangle of fear and pain and monsters. A nurse appears to push you gently, but firmly back down. Apparently your leg is broken and someone dropped you off, dumped you, unconscious at the ER entrance. It’s a miracle an ambulance didn’t run you over. You can only stare at the woman, whole heartedly agreeing with the censure in her voice as she fusses with your IV. What had really happened?

• Certainly not what your brain was insistently screaming happened, because that’s crazy. There hadn’t been a giant robot. You get an Uber to bring you home as soon as they clear you, and your hands won’t stop shaking the whole ride. Pretending you’re not about to have a nervous breakdown when the driver helps you with your new crutches, you struggle to the front door and let yourself in.

• Making your awkward, undignified way through the house, your skin prickles as you pass the French doors in the living room. There’s a car you don’t recognize parked beside yours, a sporty looking thing. White with blue and red stripes that scream not only speed, but money.

• And pity joins the guilt as the little human unlocks the glass doors and limps outside to stare at him. He hasn’t meant to hurt anyone and he’s broken you. Hadn’t even known you were there. Well, this is his fault. He can own up to it. Transforming, he just manages to catch the human in his servos as they keel over. Again. Scrap.

• Groaning, your head lolls back against a hard and warm surface. Something else shifts against you, under you, touching your jaw to gently turn your head. Your world moving like you’re on a boat. Squinting against the throbbing in your head, you stare up at a huge face staring right back at you from way too close. And you scream.

Next

[blastovkatamarinecromancy]

That's the hat component of the giant combining robot of all municipal vehicles

>Tall enough to stand inside >sedan height front hood for pedestrian safety >looks like a ducky :3

YOU MAY NOT LIKE IT , BUT THIS IS WHAT THE IDEAL MAIL BODY LOOKS LIKE

[lazybutsmexy]

Are you looking for a wife?

Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Warnings: pure fluff, mention of injuries, probably very wrong medical information, prescribed drug use, some cursing.

Summary: whenever you get ketamine as pain relief, you lose all thought-to-speech filter.

On AO3

A/N: I just watched an episode of one of those shows about air ambulances from the UK where they gave a guy ketamine, and he was high as a kite and kept telling the doctor (who was like 20 years older) "you're my kind of bird 🥺♥️". You really can get inspiration from anywhere, huh.

•~•~•~•~•

It had been one of those missions that went to shit really quick but somehow the Ghost team got the upper hand in the end. The intel was found, the hostage was rescued, and most of the team got away with minimal injuries.

Unfortunately for you, you were the exception to the last one.

The bullet and the stab wound you had received left you at a risk of bleeding out. One of the Vaqueros - Fernando, you learned - had enough medical training to treat you on site, but you really needed the MedEvac stat. The stim shot you had given yourself during the heat of the battle had long since worn off, and you were administered a strong dose of ketamine to keep your blood pressure from spiking any further and help with the pain once you all made it to the safe house.

However, one funny secondary effect you always got when you were given that drug, was that you lost all filters with your musings. They were never inappropriate per se, just plain weird. In a few words, you were high off your tits.

"...Mars is the only planet in the universe to be entirely inhabited by robots…" you mumbled to no one in particular as you stared straight at the roof over your head, past the top of Fernando's head who was still stitching a scratch on your forehead - only God knows how you got that one. Fernando just blinked at you and shook his head, focusing on his task, while Soap, who wasn't that far from you, was having a really hard time trying not to laugh at your stoner talk.

The utter (non?)sense that came out of your mouth was indeed amusing to whoever was listening closely, mostly Soap and Ghost, who, like the rest of 141, were already used to your reaction to ketamine from previous experiences, and would sometimes even prompt more unhinged thoughts from you. Price tried not to pay too much attention to whatever you said - he knew that as long as you were somewhat coherent and cohesive with your words, they could rule out any brain damage. Whenever Gaz heard your comments, it actually made him think about what you said, always coming to the conclusion that you were actually onto something.

Fernando finally finished with your care and left to check some of the others, while you kept staring at the ceiling of the safehouse, completely lost in your thoughts again. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was because of the drug or the blood loss. You were trying really hard to stay awake, but now that your body wasn't burning with pain and the adrenaline had worn off, all the exhaustion from the previous days caught up with you.

You looked over at Ghost, who was now speaking to Alejandro, and couldn't help but sigh dreamily at the leader of the Vaqueros - your inhibitions had really flown out of the window when the ketamine hit. They both glanced at you and you blinked twice, each time your eyelids got heavier.

"LT, 'm sleepy," you groaned, not noticing that you were pouting at both your Lieutenant and the Colonel like a grumpy toddler that needed a nap.

Alejandro somehow maintained a passive stare at you - inwardly though, he was already cradling you in his arms and cooing sweet nothings at you until you fell asleep.

Ghost simply stared at your lying form, and walked closer to you, crouching down to take a better look at your bandages.

"...Well, since you aren't actively bleeding out, I suppose you can take a nap," Ghost huffed but quickly held a finger to your face before you could take him up on it, "but someone will wake you up every 30 minutes just to make sure you still live, copy?"

"Copy, LT, loud and cle-" you interrupted yourself and just stared straight at his skull mask. Ghost frowned, wondering if he should feel concerned.

"...Are you-"

"A cheeseburger," you interrupted him, your eyes wide like sauce plates, "is a dead cow covered with its lactation." As soon as you finished your sentence, your head lolled to the side and you were knocked out cold, a soft snore leaving your barely open lips.

"Bloody fucking hell, kid," Ghost sighed, shaking his head in defeat as Soap wheezed not far away from you.

Alejandro could only stare at you, his hand clutched to his chest. "...Ay, ternura…"

•~•~•~•~•

Thirty minutes had passed when Alejandro decided to check on you. Activity had lulled to a stop and most of the people were catching on some sleep, except for those keeping guard.

He could've gotten some shut-eye too, but he was the kind of leader who wouldn't completely rest until it was totally safe to do so for the whole team.

As he approached you, he noticed you were already awake and staring at the ceiling. He smiled softly, wondering if you were getting lost in your silly little thoughts again, and sat down next to you, watching your eyes focus on him this time.

"What's in your head, preciosa?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as to not wake the others.

"...Are you looking for a wife?" You whispered back at him after a few moments.

He blinked twice before leaning a little closer, wondering if he had heard you right, and if you could hear the way his heart rate picked up. "... Perdón?"

"Are you looking for a wife, Alejandro?" You repeated, dead serious.

He cleared his throat to get rid of the knot that formed there, before grinning at you. "...why? Are you offering?"

"... Yes," you nodded, offering him a little grin of your own, "where should I turn my résumé?"

He chuckled softly and reached down, fixing a stray lock from your forehead and tucked it behind your ear, "ask me again when you're sober and I might tell you, tesoro."

"Oh, the ketamine wore off," you sighed, slightly leaning into his fingers, "the pain woke me up, my whole body burns, actually."

His grin dropped and he frowned at you in concern, you looked awfully calm to be in that much pain. "...Want me to ask Fernando to give you some more?"

You shook your head, offering him a smile, but this time he noticed the sweat on your forehead and the frown in your brow as you tried not to move too much, "nah, I want to be sober to hear your answer. So? How do I apply?"

This time Alejandro could barely check the volume of his chuckle as he leaned even closer to you, his knuckles brushing your cheek, "If you're available, the position is all yours, preciosa."

This time you offered him a toothy smile, a flush staining your cheeks and all signs of pain gone from your features, "I make a mean huevo ranchero, you won't regret it."

"You could make me only tostadas for the rest of your life and I'd still look forward to them," he cooed, before signaling Fernando over to you, "now, let's get you comfortable for the trip, si?"

Just as he spoke, the rumble of the heli echoed in the distance, and little by little the teams woke up from their slumber. You got another shot of ketamine and were prepared for the journey, and it wasn't long until you started sharing your wisdom again with whoever could hear, much to Alejandro's delight, Soap's amusement, and Ghost's chagrin.

"If you think about it, the Miss Universe pageant should be called Miss Planet Earth, because no aliens participate in it… that we know of…"

A/N2: *quietly tags @ragingbookdragon here* 🤫♥️

[bulkheadbignaturals]

GOODRA ART POST GOODRA ART POST EVERYBODY REJOICE AND CHEER

The brainrot has spread so much i am now making my own Transformers AU

Here's my designs for the main Autobot cast! (for now...... Also i can't design cars for SHIT)

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

we need some more Brian May appreciation on this blog methinks so here’s Things About Brian May That Just Make Sense

Owns Groot pajamas

Once apologized for being straight to a guy who asked him out in a hotel lobby

Broke protocol talking to Queen Elizabeth because he couldn’t take the awkward silence

Noticed guys following Freddie into his dressing room and was basically just like “….huh. That’s new” and apparently went about his day (the correct reaction)

Commissioned a second giant statue of Freddie due to being jealous of Roger’s for like a solid decade 

Said his cat was the closest thing he had to a sibling, wrote a song about her when she died

Took a video of himself with the EMTs in an ambulance while LITERALLY HAVING A STROKE

Moved houses, forgot about the whole entire life-sized News of the World robot he had in his attic, was gifted another one by a fan, now has robot in his house somewhere

Once spent entirely too long trying to plug in a completely acoustic instrument

Once turned up to a sound check having forgotten his guitar, didn’t notice until far later than he should have 

Split his head open throwing up in a toilet 

Broke his arm after “losing a fight with a skateboard” 

Tried to get back at Crystal for pranking him, just ended up accidentally buying him breakfast

Bought land, planted trees, made it to be a haven for wildlife

Recorded actual thunder for a song, credited god for it on the album 

Low-key speaks Spanish

Brian: Roger and I used to argue about everything you can think of Also Brian: “special thanks to my most enduring partner, Roger Meddows Taylor—“

Clogs

Volunteered to play on top of Buckingham Palace, was absolutely unimaginably terrified the entire time

Dressed up as a penguin and tried to bond with the penguins on the IGSM video

[moonstruckme]

any chance you'd be willing to do disassociating!reader with sirius as a fade into you prompt?

Thanks for requesting!

join the party

cw: mentions of blood, reader is in shock/dissociates after injury-related trauma

Sirius Black x reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’ve long since stopped shaking by the time you get back to your apartment, but it still takes you a few tries to get the key in the door, your movements robotic and seeming somehow separate from you. 

“Hey, you’re home late,” Sirius greets you as you walk through the door. “I was just starting to think about dinner. How would you feel about…shit.” He stops as he comes into the living room, gaze snagging on your legs, dried blood staining them from the knees down. Your shoes, which used to be white but are now a rusty brown. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not mine.” 

“Okay.” He’s still standing a good few feet away, like you’re characters in a play, reciting your lines without moving. “Whose is it?”

“Macy’s.” 

“Alright.” The word is meaningless, but not any more than the rest of them, you suppose. Sirius steps closer, slowly, as if wary of spooking you. “Is she okay?” 

“She, uh.” You swallow. “Yeah, she’s okay. Or she will be. She fell and hit her head, but they said she’ll be okay.” 

“Who said, darling?” 

“The nurses. I just got back from the hospital.” You remember the ambulance ride there, the ridiculous quiet of it all. You’d thought that when someone was hurt that bad, hospitals were all beeping and yelling and people running around. But they’d only asked Macy questions in calm, measured voices, no beeping or alarms to be heard. What did you have to eat today? Do you know why you fell?

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks gutted, and you don’t know why he’s using that tone with you. You’re not the one who cracked your head open. “You should have called me, lovely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

“You were at work.” It’s simple, a fact. “Anyway, there was nothing you could do.” 

Sirius takes your face in his hand, and it feels like he’s touching someone else, your skin waxy and foreign. “I would have left work to be there with you. It sounds like it was an awful thing to have to deal with by yourself.” 

You guess it probably was. You’d had to put pressure on Macy’s head until the paramedics got there, kneeling in a pool of her blood as it seeped from the wound and time seemed sluggish and unreal. You know, objectively, that it was one of the more awful experiences you’ve had, and you’ll probably be dreaming about it for years. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. Nothing feels any sort of way right now. 

“How long were you at the hospital for?” Sirius asks. “When did this happen?” 

You don’t know. It was…the sun was still out, when she fell on the sidewalk. But the length of time you were sitting there with her, or the time in the ambulance, is all stretched out and murky. You know you got back to your car and drove home, but you can’t recall any part of the journey. You leave that last bit out of what you tell Sirius, but his frown deepens anyway. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Here, let me take those off.” 

He bends over, untying your shoes for you, and you watch as dried blood flakes off the laces where they bend unwillingly. Sirius doesn’t comment on it, slipping your shoes off one after the other and setting them by the door. His hands are delicate about your shoulders as he steers you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. You’re distantly cognizant of him moving about, opening and closing a cabinet and turning on the faucet, but it’s not until he crouches in front of you that he enters your awareness again. 

Sirius takes your ankle in his hand and begins just below your knee, rubbing a warm, wet washcloth over the blood staining the skin there. He’s talking, still, in a low voice, but the murmurings don’t seem to have much importance other than placation. It’s more ambient noise than anything else. He works the washcloth down your leg, the rough fabric scrubbing gently at your skin. He presses harder in some areas where the blood is stubborn, and that’s where you feel it most. The beginnings of real sensation, connected to you rather than some shell that you occupy and that moves when you tell it to. 

By the time he starts on your other leg you feel as though you’ve been thinking through a dense fog that’s beginning to lift; you’re able to feel the warm droplets of water running down your calf and make out some of the quiet words spewing from your boyfriend’s mouth. He finishes with your legs, and you hold up your hands, now trembling again. The blood there is cracked around the lines of your palm, and Sirius takes your hand in his, wiping it away gently. You can feel the cloth even more there, where it brushes against your sensitive fingertips. You can tell now that Sirius is telling you stories, various anecdotes of when he or his friends had gotten hurt. 

“It’s scary to see someone you care about in pain,” he goes on at a murmur. “Even when you know they’ll be alright, I think it hurts worse than when we’re in pain ourselves.” 

A tear dribbles down your cheek, landing with a splat on your thigh, and Sirius looks up, surprise morphing into heartbreak when he sees your expression. He drops the cloth on the floor, rising to an awkward height so that you can put your head against his shoulder when his arms come around you. 

“I know, baby.” His voice sounds almost fragile, as though he’s feeling this as acutely as you are. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Are you feeling a little more like yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff. Your tears are still coming slowly, and you know the majority of your panic is still buried somewhere safe inside of you, but this is enough for now. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

Sirius pulls back, thumbing away your tears as he studies your face, eyebrows set close together in concern. “I think you’re in shock, sweetness. It makes sense, that’s a lot for anyone to have to see.” He strokes at your hairline, just beside your eye. “Do you want to talk about it? If not, we don’t have to. We can just watch a movie or something, try to forget about it for tonight.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to find the voice inside yourself that usually tells you who you are, what you want. It’s still quiet, but you think that’s answer enough. “The second one, please. I don’t think I’m ready to think about it yet.” 

“Alright, whatever you want.” Sirius nods, rising and offering you his hands to help pull you up. You take them, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’re standing. “Whenever you feel ready, lovely, I’ll be here.” 

[try-set-me-on-fire]

should we talk about the weather

(go check out Kaitlin’s amazing cover art!!!)

rated M // 20,259 words

part of the @118bigbang

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

This description felt too long for ao3 but here’s what I pitched to the Big Bang server:

“In a world where certain individuals are capable of sharing their own instincts and feelings — and even occasionally physical strength — with their likewise capable partners, Eddie and Buck, and Hen and Chim are what people sometimes call congeneric minds. It comes in handy in a high stakes profession like firefighting to have two people in such synchronization, able to warn each other of danger without ever having to waste time opening their mouths to speak.

Being so in sync with someone doesn’t necessarily mean smooth sailing communication however. Recently back at work after taking time off post-shooting, Eddie worries about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the events of the last year (last several years, really) but doesn’t know how to bring it up when he himself has always kind of encouraged them to move past life changing events with little discussion. While Hen and Chim are getting along just fine, Chimney and Maddie are dancing around each other and their recent breakup, and Hen feels trapped between disappointing her mother or her wife while being roped into backyard wedding planning.

With danger ever present on the job and turmoil seemingly always bubbling outside it, will everyone find the right words before it’s too late?

AKA what if people could be drift compatible in regular life without giant robots, and they’re all disasters at communicating anyway”

Tag list!

@theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @mcityxe @thehyperfixationspeedrunner @dangerpronebuddie @jenniferscraftlife @phdmama @bbbugzzz @leothil @pantsaretherealheroes @giddyupbuck @hobbitnarwhal @kaseysgirl86-blog @thebrofriends @lillathelegend @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis @bigfootsmom @blahblahwoofwoof @lover-of-mine @queerdiazs @eddiebabygirldiaz