#drone three draws shit

[drone-three]

Murderbot is living rent free in my brain. Also, I suck at backgrounds, so…

Pose reference: Justin Martin

[umblrspectrum]

this has been on my todo list for actual goddamn months. do you know how long i've been waiting to draw this fucking t

[the-cactus-taco]

I have some constructive criticism on uzi’s new form:

And by “constructive criticism” I mean they did great with it and I just wanted to draw robotic flesh goop

[electrozeistyking]

Hello, welcome to The Rare Bites AU! I was going to draw J and V, but my eagerness to show this to you was far too strong. Here's some notes on it:

-the disassembly drones are pretty much starving and scrawny. uzi hates that her colony basically lied to these guys because they're only attacking because they're desperate to feed. she's like "DAMN WE'RE A BUNCH OF FUCKING LIARS HUH."

-j, n and v are some of the rare few disassembly drones that reached close to adulthood. they're all shaky and weak by this point, but still strong enough to take down a worker if they absolutely pushed themselves to do it. their population has been shrinking for years, due to starvation, overheating and killing their own young.

-"And our parents are leaving these fuckers to starve over one stupid deal they failed to uphold and won't even tell us about?! Like, come on! If these guys were human, they'd be all bony and shit! That's gross! What the fuck is wrong with us?!"

-n unwittingly reveals how bad their situation is by announcing that j and v might kill him in order to feed themselves when they find out he's had more than enough to drink (uzi's like "damn" and gives him some extra oil canisters. the workers have enough as is, so she doesn't bat an eye over having to give any up to disassembly drones).

-because these three don't really have a major reason to hate each other, i like to imagine that n, j and v basically fell asleep in a very shaky cuddle pile in order to feel less alone in this cruel world, and eventually begin to include uzi. at that point, they feel safer and start gaining weight and showing their true personalities. :3

-long story short, they start off in a bad place but then everything gets better because of uzi's input. :3

[cat3ch1sm]

💚~ hi!! this is my first fic in so long, im so sorry for disappearing for almost two months ... idk I've been at a loss for motivation for a while. happy new years i guess😭. but it's a story based off of @a-hazbin-reader recent headcanons about alastor (first hazbin hotel writing!! exciting !!) i happened to come across it and immediately saw a fic idea finally. all credits to them and the person who requested the original writing (hope they see this too lololol) !!! also yes my anime writings will also return so yayy im officially back!!

heads up this is super long it's like 15 pages cause ya girl got a little carried away 😅 i hope you all enjoy and reqs are open for all!

🌲❦(๑˙❥˙๑)~ mentions of violence , abuse, bit of blood, alcohol, language, lewd language a little bit at the start, fem!reader

alastor x fem!reader

"Angel. Are you able to draw absolutely anything else?"

The aforementioned spider demon stared straight at Charlie with his brow arched and a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Beside his face he haughtily held up a sheet of paper with one of four hands, a drawing depicting nothing other than a giant penis.

"Nope." He popped the "p."

The hotel residents and employees, including Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, you, and Alastor were doing Charlie's usual scheduled feel-good activity. The devil's daughter had given out paper and pencils, gathered everyone in a circle and told everyone to draw something that made them happy. And of course Angel Dust, lewd as always, had spent a frankly concerning amount of time drawing the member currently on display on his paper.

Everyone just stared at the drawing in silence. Examining it while Angel continued to hold it up with not an ounce of shame on his face.

"Why is it... anatomically correct?" you finally questioned, tilting your head and squinting at the piece.

Vaggie, sitting beside her girlfriend, let out an exasperated groan, looking from the drawing to Angel with undisguised revulsion. "Angel Dust. First you drew pills, then you drew a liquor bottle, and for the last three goddamn turns we've given you, you've drawn a dick. Come on. Are you even trying-"

"Whadd'ya mean?" Angel asked innocently. "Charlie said to draw somethin' that makes me happy. Dicks make me happy. And as a worker here, you shouldn't be judgin' me," the porn star added smugly, making Vaggie let out an impatient growl.

Business as usual in the Hazbin Hotel.

"Well, I mean, you can't really say he didn't try," Husk deadpanned in a gravelly voice. "I mean, look at the vein-"

Ding dong!

"Oh, wow, hey, someone's at the door!" You'd never seen anyone move as fast as Charlie in that moment, and Vaggie was in close pursuit. In a split second, Nifty's tiny frame was flying after them both.

"Someone's at the door!" Nifty repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"Right. While they're distracted, I need a damn dick- fuck. Drink," Husk snapped, rising from his place on the floor. Angel immediately started laughing while Husk wasted no time lighting into him. "Shut up. You and your fucking anatomically correct dick got into my head," you could hear Husk snarl while Angel's taunting laughs never ceased as they headed off to the bar.

With those two gone, it was just you sitting in the circle, blinking. "Right," you murmured, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"Well, my dear? What did you draw?" came the oh-so-familiar drone of the Radio Demon's voice from the corner of the room. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips at the sound of it, and glanced up to see Alastor standing with his trusty mic stand, beckoning you to come closer. Of course, you obliged.

You scoffed a little, smile turned slightly sarcastic. "Well... I was going to draw you, but Angel suddenly became the Picasso of Penises and I didn't get around to it."

Alastor laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a gentle kiss on your head. "Ah, always the sentimental one, aren't you, my dear? Well, no matter. It's the thought that counts."

Your smile turned genuine again at his gesture and Alastor noticed. "There's that smile, sweetheart. Now, if you'd just keep it on your face at all times without fail, we could be quite the formidable pair."

You kissed your teeth with mock exasperation and lightly shoved Alastor away. "Oh, here you go again. And I thought we were having a moment. Alastor, my face just cannot stay like yours for that long-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Charlie came rushing back into the room, her sudden entrance startling you a little. She made her way up to you and Alastor. "Hey, um, Y/N? There's a woman at the door who says she's looking for you. She seems really upset."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. Someone looking for you? You weren't friends with anyone really outside the Hotel and those affiliated with it, so you had no clue who would be searching for you. You glanced at Charlie with a "What's going on?" look and with some reluctance pulled away from your boyfriend's grip to follow her.

As you neared the lobby, you heard a distressed-sounding voice in the door, and confusion growing you walked a little faster to the entrance. But before you could even register who the visitor was, she'd thrown her arms around you, fingernails digging painfully into your skin. But the stench of her familiar perfume wafting unwelcomed into your nose, into your mouth, smothering you and strangling you let you know the identity of this woman without even having to see her face.

You instantly stiffened, limbs suddenly like metal rods, not at all softening into her embrace. Your eyes went wide and you could feel your pulse speeding up.

"Mother?"

"My love! Oh, my precious girl!" she cried, pulling out of that suffocating hug for a moment to cup your cheeks in her cold hands, hands that no matter how gently they touched you their touch would always sting. She peered into your eyes with watery ones of her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I missed you so, my dear. This is where you've been hiding? I was so dreadfully worried!" Her eyes, always scrutinizing, ran up and down your figure in the way that made you want to tear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh, and I was worried you were starving somewhere. You were such a frail, skinny thing before on Earth. It's a great relief to see you've put some weight on your bones."

And the first stone was thrown.

"Mother." It was the only word you could seem to utter, fighting the urge to throw up, bile collecting in your throat. Her voice was like a slap to the face, and it was only your mother's grip that kept you from actually staggering backward. And how the others were just staring, awed, at the scene, Charlie's eyes sparkling with tears, Vaggie with a hand on her shoulder and a knowing smile, Angel and Husk watching contentedly from a distance, and Nifty clinging to Alastor who was smiling as usual. God, if you didn't vomit right fucking now, you'd be surprised. But you knew what they all saw in their clouded vision- a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. But really? It more closely resembled a predator at last capturing its prey.

You really couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding in your head, but somehow you were in her arms again, and she was fawning and cooing over you like you were a child, showering you with kisses that burned like molten iron and rocking you back and forth. Always she loved to put on a show, loved being the center of attention.

It made you sick.

You managed to come out of your stupor long enough to shove your wailing mother away, unfazed by her crocodile tears. It was like waking up from a haze. She stumbled back slightly, and you backed away, your entire demeanor hardening. Your tone was flat when you spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

You apparently weren't doing that clean a job of masking your emotions, because the venom in your voice caught even you off guard. Your mother looked hurt- that act wasn't new to you, either- and your friends and partner surrounding you shot you disapproving and mildly disgusted looks that clearly wondered why you were being so cold to your own mother. You dropped your eyes to avoid the accusing stares, unable to slow your breathing and fighting the desire to lash out. Charlie looked bewildered and hurt, Angel Dust arched a brow, Husk appeared disapproving and Vaggie’s venomous expression said everything she wanted it to. How dare they look at you like you were the bad guy without knowing shit! She couldn't care less if you lived or died. She was here because she wanted something, and nothing more. Perhaps she heard about your role in the extermination of the Extermination and wanted a piece of the popularity you'd recently found yourself gaining. Or she came because she was probably destitute, the frivolous bitch, and wanted to suck up to either you or the powerful people you were now associated with. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You wanted her gone.

But it was clear she had no intention of leaving.

"All this time, and not one visit. And she never calls," your mother moaned in anguish, now addressing her new audience. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to track you down like a bloodhound if you would just come see your poor mother every once in a while." Her voice was overflowing with hurt and heartbreak you just could feel wasn't genuine. Before you knew it, she had broken down into sobs again, and you could only stand there stiffly, rage boiling, while the always empathetic Charlie moved to comfort the woman, rubbing her back soothingly while she sent Nifty off to get her tissues for her tears. The dirty look Vaggie shot you- "How cruel of you to do this to your innocent mother,” it said- sent heat rushing straight to your chest. Jesus fucking Christ, how could they fall for this shit? Your stomach twisted again, and this time you actually did nearly puke, suppressing a dry heave.

You did not pay any mind to your mother's display- you refused to give her the satisfaction. You turned in the opposite direction, arms folded, nails digging into your skin hard. You felt nothing seeing her cry but bitterness and icy detachment.

"I don't want to see you-"

"Well, now- who do we have here?"

Alastor appeared from the shadows with his sharp-toothed grin, glancing at you first and then your weeping mother. Before you could stifle it, a rush of hope surged through you- if anybody could get this infernal woman to leave, it would be Alastor. You turned towards him, hoping he would see how distressed you were- he was typically fairly perceptive when it came to you and your feelings. But alas, your mother caught his attention first, peering up at the Radio Demon standing over her with teary eyes and wet cheeks, a piteous expression on her face.

"The Radio Demon? Oh, well, a being like you mustn't worry about who I am. I'm just- a poor mother come to visit her daughter. But she... doesn't seem to want to see me." She sighed in a melancholy manner and slowly unburied her face from the tissue she'd been holding. "I suppose I will simply see myself out."

"Oh, nonsense. Y/N's mother, are you? I absolutely cannot allow you to remain on the streets. I insist that you stay." Alastor extended a hand out to your mother, his maniacal smile gone suspiciously gentle. It was disgustingly familiar; it was the smile he reserved normally just for you. "As... abrasive as your daughter may seem at the moment"- you felt him cast a look over at your back turned to him- "I'm sure she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Please, you're welcome to remain here."

You wanted to cry when he said this- could he really not see who this woman was? Did he really think you were just being testy? And when your mother took his hand and held it for much too long, you could take it no longer. And as everyone crowded your mother, showering her with welcomes and greetings and kindness, you pushed past everybody and walked straight out of the hotel doors, the last thing you saw being the tauntingly smug smirk on your mother's face before you slammed the doors behind you.

When you returned to the hotel, drunk, night had fallen. You hadn't seen any of your hotel mates since you'd left, and as far as you knew nobody went after you after your abrupt exit. Who the hell cared about that now, though? You'd talk to them about your deranged mother when you got inside, without her presence. Perhaps Alastor had just been being nice when he told her she could stay, and they hadn't actually been blind to why you were acting the way you were. Maybe they were just being supportive of a guest when they saw you acting out of the ordinary, knowing you usually were never snappy and stony, and still took her side. Maybe so.

You wished you hadn't had so much to drink.The pounding in your head was worse than when your mother had shown up earlier and your eyelids felt heavy. You had tripped a minimum of ten times on the way back and almost let two thugs take you in their car with them. You hated being drunk, but your mother you hated more.

With unsteady hands you pushed open the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, vision blurring a little. You weren't amazing with alcohol, and again, being drunk wasn't your favorite thing. But the moment you entered, you realized you weren't nearly drunk enough.

In the lobby sat your boyfriend, Alastor, enjoying a cup of tea with none other than your mother. The two were laughing together, which incensed you enough, but what made you wish you'd just blacked out at that bar was when you caught sight of your mother's hand on top of Alastor's as they shared a laugh over God knows what.

It didn't take long for the two to notice you in the doorway, a turbulent, unreadable expression on your face, standing as still as a statue as you took in the scene. Your mother turned to you and smiled, waving the hand with the cup of tea in it.

"Why, darling, we hadn't realized you left! Alastor is quite a charming gentleman. We were just having a moment." She slipped her hand from on top of his with a slightly mischievous smile.

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. You had no fucking clue how, but somehow your mother had discovered that Alastor and you were an item. She wasn't sitting here with anyone else but Alastor, drinking tea with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. And she was wearing makeup she hadn’t had on when she’d first come in the hotel- red painted on her lips, blush dotted on her cheeks and glitter on her eyelids in a display clearly meant to make an impression on Alastor and Alastor alone. It wouldn’t be the first time she'd gone after one of your partners, but it angered you no less- it was like the woman wanted to take your place somehow.

Alastor turned to you as well with a smile, but when he saw the look in your eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. However, he made no comment at your slightly disheveled appearance and picked up his expression once more. 

“Why, hello, my dear. Your lovely mother was just telling me about her life before you,” Alastor enthused. “A lively woman she was! I’ve heard story after exciting story. Quite a wild one, indeed- rather unlike you, sweetheart.”

You gave Alastor what could only be described as what is called ‘the thousand-yard stare,’ expression flat, not knowing really what to say to that. Despite the fact that you were in a bit of a daze still, either from the alcohol or the fact that your mother was on a date with your boyfriend, the haughty, self-superior expression on your mother’s face was not lost on you. Nor were the cow eyes she was giving him, or how when Alastor reached for the teapot to refill his cup her hand was conveniently already on the dish, lingering beneath his for what felt like hours.

She turned to Alastor, looking up at him with that sickly sweet, beaming grin of hers that she always plastered on her face when she was really about to lay it on. “I’m still wild if you ever care to find out,” she purred, batting her lashes at Alastor with an unmistakable air of seduction. 

Before you could even register it, you heard yourself saying, “Get out.”

Both your mother and Alastor turned to face you, your mother’s face having dropped and Alastor’s eyes piercing into yours. 

“What?” your mother asked, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. You truly saw red for a moment, knowing damn well those tears were as false as Angel’s lashes, and the twitching in your muscles to just lash out was almost painfully difficult to stifle. Alastor’s smile wavered a little as his eyes darted from you to your blubbering mother, who had already started her shit.

You advanced forward, your stride making your mother jump and Alastor stand, and without hesitation tore her hand from Alastor’s, yanking her arm with force that momentarily startled even you. She was pulled from her chair and forced to stand up. 

Her voice full of anguish, she pleaded, “Baby girl, what did I do wrong?” However, unmoved by her over-the-top performance, you’d already started dragging her out, not bothering to respond to her or explain why you were throwing her out. She already knew; you could see past the tears and wails and her struggles to pull away from you. Fueled by fury, distress and the afterbuzz of the alcohol, you hauled your protesting mother out of the hotel, pitilessly leaving her outside in the dark, and forcefully slammed the doors behind her. There were muffled screams of your name coming from the other side, her fists pounding on the door, but after a bit they faded away.

The moment she was gone you instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest, slumping against the door with a breath of exertion and relief. But that relief quickly dissipated when you locked eyes with Alastor, who was advancing on you, his smile obviously strained. The way he spat your name at you made you shrink back slightly, realizing that he was actually not pleased.

“You cannot just throw your own mother out like that. Into the streets? My dear, that is no way to treat your mother. And frankly, it’s rude.”

You felt anger rising once more, but you didn’t want to start anything with Alastor despite the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course it looked simply like bad etiquette from his standpoint; he had no idea who your mother was. And somehow you didn’t feel it was proper to tell him- you knew how much he valued his own mother and mothers in general, and as sweet as you had always thought that was, you knew he and his rosy view of maternal relationships wouldn’t understand and perhaps not allow for your turbulent relationship with your own mother. And you didn’t want to be the one to tarnish his otherwise endearing perspective by explaining how abhorrent of a person your mother was. So despite how much you just wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no clue what was really going on, you kept your composure, inhaling shakily.

“Alastor, please. You- you don’t know what you’re talking about. So just stay out of it, alright?”

“She’s your mother, not the devil, dear.” Alastor’s tone was back to normal, and he was speaking in his usual radio voice as if he was talking to just anyone, and it made your stomach churn. 

“She’s not innocent, Alastor, she’s in Hell-”

“Ah, but so are you and I, sweetheart.”

Your face crumpled, and you found yourself coming up short for a rebuttal. Before you could stop them, tears started to well in your eyes, frustrated that you couldn’t get through to him. Out of spite and pride, you blinked them back harshly. Alastor tilted his head and started to come towards you, his mic stand clacking on the ground as he walked, and for a moment you felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that he truly wanted to talk and get to the bottom of your animosity towards your mother. 

But the Radio Demon breezed right past you and, before you could stop him, opened the door, and your mother whom you’d thought had given up at last and left waltzed right back in, suddenly no longer the aggrieved mother you’d thrown out and back to beaming a mile a minute. The self-assured smirk she sent your way had your blood boiling with rage, and you felt powerless to act. You wanted to slap that smirk off of her face, but why wouldn’t she smirk? She had Alastor exactly where she wanted him, and both of you knew it. 

“I apologize sincerely for the earlier… incident,” Alastor told your mother with a note olf sympathy in his voice, and again he took her hand; you had to tear your eyes away, back to the scene.

“Aren’t you charming!” your mother exclaimed, voice pleasant and upbeat. ‘Don’t even think of it, I’ve already forgotten.”

“You’re too kind, miss. But in order to make up for it, I’d like to offer you to spend the night. I would hate to send a lovely woman such as yourself out on the streets of Hell after sundown. I implore you.”

Fucking Christ. You didn’t even have to see her to know the way she was grinning at you. Your shoulders tensed, rising to your ears, and the tears burned hot in your eyes. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, you bit your inner cheek hard enough to draw blood so as to not make the slightest sound alerting her to your tears.

“What a kind invitation. It’s nice to know at least somebody wants me here.” An icy silence from you. “It’d be rather rude not to accept; I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Lovely!” Alastor praised. 

You couldn’t take any more. Unable to stifle your sobs, hot tears falling down your cheeks, you tossed back a cracked “I’m going to bed,” and stormed out of the lobby with your head down, rushing upstairs as fast as you could and ignoring Alastor’s calls of your name. Just as you slammed the door to your room, you heard your mother say, “Oh, don’t worry about her. Let her cool off for a bit, and then I’ll go after her. A mother always knows how to cheer up her child.”

It was quiet now. Hours ago Angel Dust had returned from his work and Charlie and Vaggie had locked up for the night. Nifty had been, though with much effort, put to bed by Husk who had then closed up the bar and retired himself. You didn’t know where your mother or Alastor were, and you didn’t want to. 

You were the only one up now, and you had finally run out of tears. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were sore and bloodshot, and you could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. It felt like days you’d spent just crying in your bed, unable to suppress the emotion you’d felt since your mother reappeared that morning. Charlie had actually come to check on you earlier, worried, along with Vaggie, but Alastor had told them to let you be for now. You’d heard their muffled conversation from outside your door.

You just wished Alastor would understand, that they all would understand. Your mother wasn’t a mother. She didn’t nurture, she didn’t love, all she did was belittle you, bully you, and take from you. Yet never once had you been able to figure out what you’d ever done to her. You had tried so hard to help and to please her as a living child, then teenager, then adult- tending to your siblings when she was out on the town, working multiple jobs to take care of the house while she spent the day blackout drunk and the nights in the city, and still desperately believing she would change, you sent her portions of your salary when you grew older and begged her to utilize the money, but she always blew it on material shit. And as if it wasn’t enough that you had to be the mother to yourself and your siblings, she beat you too, mostly when she was drunk but sometimes you felt it was just for her amusement or to make you feel small and worthless. As a teenager she did nothing but sabotage you- you couldn’t ever have friends over because she was always passed out on the couch or acting erratic and stinking of cheap liquor, and you had to fight like hell to get your siblings out of there after you left home for school. And yet you had still had hope for her.

That all changed when you came to Hell. It was the end of the road for real now, and you figured there was no point trying to reconcile with your mother anymore. So you’d left her in the past, thinking it was over, finally allowing yourself a little peace. But you hadn’t realized the extent of the resent you’d been harboring until she showed up at the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. All those feelings just came rushing back.

Another hour or so passed and your swollen eyes were dried out and heavy-lidded. Exhausted from fretting about your mother and regretting the amount you'd had to drink, you turned over in your bed with a stifled groan and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would finally find you and you could escape the events of the day at least for a little while. But just as you were drifting off, you were startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You let out a moan that was half confusion and half sleepiness, and rolled over just a little to glance at the door through hazy eyes. “Alastor?” you mumbled questioningly, rubbing your eyes groggily.

But the voice that responded woke you right up.

“Not a chance, pet.”

You sat up instantly, knocking the bedcovers off. In the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, was your mother. A discordant note of exasperation sounded in your head; the woman couldn't let you be even at this hour? For the moment at least, you were more mildly annoyed than pissed like you were earlier, just wondering what in the hell she could possibly want now.

“Why are you even-”

You cut yourself off and immediately jumped out of the bed just as your mother lunged at you like a pouncing tigress; you'd sensed the attack in the way she had been moving and acted accordingly before she could maul you. It didn't mean it didn't still catch you off guard, though.

Your voice rising, you snapped, “What the hell are you-”

Again you were interrupted when she sprung off the bed and snatched your wrists in her iron grip before you could dodge again; her clasp was tight and bruising and you winced painfully. You caught a glimpse of her eyes in the faint light, and they were inflamed, wild with fury she'd probably been suppressing this whole time. It wasn't a new expression.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, voice trembling with fury. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, tearing your wrists from her grasp and moving a distance away from her so she was on one side of the bed and you were on the other. By the bewildered look on her face, she was clearly not expecting you to break away so effortlessly; maybe thinking she could just abuse you like she did when you were a defenseless child.

Like hell.

“What the hell are you even mad at me for?”

Your mother, seething, launched more accusations at you. “You think you're better than me, now, is it? Saw your sorry ass on the news after that damn Extermination rebellion. Bet it took your ego up a few notches killing those Exorcists, huh? And now that you're in some fancy hotel, dating some powerful boytoy and hiding behind hell's princess, you think you can just get rid of me?”

“Apparently fucking not, because here you are. And I'm not hiding. I'm trying to get away from you.”

Your mother let out a bitter, droll laugh. “Oh, you think that's how this works?” she hissed in an icy manner, and even though you were already a good distance away you backed up further still. “Think again, whore. I'm the one who deserves to be here, not some ungrateful little cunt who just happened to fall out of me. If I have to live destitute in the back alleys of Hell, so do you.”

The heartless insults and vulgarities she hurled your way would have shattered the living version of you. But it was about time your mother learned that you were no longer the pleading daughter you’d been on Earth, and instead of piercing your heart the names merely bounced off of you.

“You might recall I spent my whole damn life trying to help you,” you answered with equal coldness. “And for nothing, too, because here the hell we both are. Don't blame me because you turned out to be the nothing you always were.”

Without warning, she lunged at you, rushing forward like a charging bull, and though you tried to dodge she managed to snatch a handful of your hair and slam your head into the wall. You let out a cry of shock and pain and spots exploded in front of your vision before you reached up, tore her hand from your head and shoved her forward. You advanced again, teeth bared and fists balled, unwilling to let her get up- but before you could swing, there was a crackle in the air- and what followed was a cacophony of static, crackling, and microphone feedback that would've deafened an elephant. But the sound wasn't new to you, and you weren't surprised in the least when you lifted your eyes to see Alastor, smile maniacal and glowing red eyes wild as he entered the room. The sudden explosion of sound made your mother flinch and clap her hands over her ears, and seeing your opening, you kicked her to the ground; her head hit the wall rather roughly and she lost consciousness, her body going limp. You were breathing heavily, staring at her body sprawled on the ground without pity.

Alastor's eyes lost their luminescence and his smile softened; and he came over to you, attempting to touch you, but you shied away. You weren't necessarily ready to forgive him; if he'd just done a little more pushing and hadn't invited your mother here with you, this could have been avoided. You dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” Alastor offered in a voice that was sufficiently staticky. “I wasn't too kind to you today.”

You wanted to say, no shit, but held your tongue, back to him still. Feelings of resent still swirled within you, but admittedly, hearing his apology did make them dissipate a little.

“Why is it you didn't simply tell me she was like this?”

Now you were silent not out of spite but more because…you simply didn't know what to say? Where were you to even begin? How would you explain that you didn't want to somehow tarnish his view of mothers by explaining your history with your own? And that you didn't want him to feel guilty about having a good relationship with his mother while yours was knocked out on the floor in front of you? And that you didn't want him to lose his love of mothers because you were unfortunate enough to have a shitty one? 

Somehow you managed to splutter all of that into something coherent, because Alastor gathered you in his arms without waiting for your approval, which you didn't mind, finally feeling somewhat okay since your mother had first shown up. You felt his hands in your hair, taming the out of place strands, and he lifted your wrists to his eyes, tutting in disapproval when he saw the bruises beginning to form. He settled for wordlessly kissing the deepening marks gently, but when he spotted the gash on your head where your mother had slammed you into the wall, his smile turned positively venomous. His head did a full 180 on his neck, which always made you cringe, to glare at your groggily awakening mother, who froze in her position on the floor when she caught his alarming gaze.

Alastor turned back to you, static popping in the air, and his smile grew- if that was even possible. “Well, sweetheart? What would you like me to do with her?”

You were frankly tired now of fighting your mother, who had staggered from the ground, rage still evident in her visage but with Alastor present she wasn’t about to act. So with a weary sigh, slumping into Alastor’s chest, you muttered, “I just want her gone.”

“Anything you wish.” And within the next few minutes, Alastor had summoned Nifty, who was more than eager to take out the trash, and had the tiny janitor drag your mother from your room by her hair. You lost sight of the two after they left, but by the way Nifty was giggling the entire time she was hauling your mother, you had a feeling the next several hours wouldn’t be too enjoyable for her.

You’d been on edge the whole day, but you didn’t quite realize the sheer amount of tension your mother’s presence had placed on you until it was only you and Alastor inside the room. His hand traced soothing circles around your back, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

The morning, after what seemed like centuries, finally did arrive. You were already up although day had barely broken, and that was because the earlier commotion had disturbed the hotel residents and they had literally gotten you and Alastor (who had evidently felt bad enough to spend the rest of the night with you, which he didn’t often do for posterity reasons, kissing the side of your head where it was wounded and apologizing once more) up out of bed to barrage you both with an onslaught of questions (and Nifty remaining suspiciously silent save the occasional maniacal giggle). With some reluctance you gave the group a brief explanation of everything that had gone down, Alastor standing beside you with a protective hand on your shoulder. Long story short, everyone basically grasped that they’d fucked up by allowing your mother in and judging you harshly about it, and before long Charlie was in tears and begging for you to forgive her, Vaggie had admitted her remorse over it, Angel Dust was shifty-eyed and sheepish, and Husk apologized to you formally. You dismissed the apologies with a grateful look, and that seemed to satisfy them all except Charlie, who you had to tell straight out you truly did forgive her at least five times and that only set her off bawling again to the point Vaggie had to carry the girl out.

Alastor, although one couldn’t tell by his face, apparently did feel guilty about his involvement in the whole fiasco because he took you out for breakfast and spent the rest of the day with you, and by the time night fell once more your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your spirits were significantly lifted. It wasn’t until the two of you were in bed together (again, your lucky day, you didn’t even have to convince him) that he broke the long, contented silence you two had been sharing to inform you curtly:

“You didn’t ruin my opinion of mothers, you know.”

You sat up at this, eyes wide with hope and relief. He rose along with you to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t?”

“Oh, no. My dear, I love my own mother dearly, but don’t think I’m not aware that others may not have the same relationship with their own mothers. I did admire your resilience, though, and though it really wasn’t necessary, I do appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings. If I do say so myself”- his hand came to rest on your lower belly- “you seem like you’d make quite a stellar mother yourself.”

“Alastor.”

“Merely a thought.”

[celestialprincesse]

Can you please do an anemic reader on who her lack of red blood cells are getting worse enough that she has to be hospitalized?! And we have to see soaps reaction?!

OHH He shits his pants

It's a routine blood draw, nothing you're not used to. Just a cell count to make sure everything's working properly and that your supplements don't need to have their dosage increased.

"So this here is the red blood cells.." The nurse drones as you sit in one of the consultancy rooms of the local hospital, chin resting in the crook of your palm. "They're low enough that we'll need to keep you in for a couple of days for an iron transfusion and monitoring before and after."

"I'm sorry?" You choke, snapped from your reverie as you look at the nurse and your results paper she currently points at.

"It's really nothing to worry about. We'll keep a good eye on you, you'll probably be in for three days, tops." "No but I have work." The woman across from you looks frustrated at your resistance as she raises an eyebrow your way. "I'd really strongly advise you not to go back to work like this. It'll only exacerbate your condition." "Right. Fine. Can I just make a call quick? Get my boyfriend to swing by with some essentials." "This isn't prison. You can call who you like when you like."

You tap your foot anxiously on the linoleum floor of the hallway as the phone rings persistently, waiting for Johnny to pick up.

"Bonnie! How'd it go?" John's Scottish brogue still manages to send flutters to your tummy, even after three years of dating and just having received bad news.

"They're keeping me in for a few days." The anxiety in your voice is obvious, and John can practically picture you worrying at your bottom lip.

"Why? Wha' happened?" "Just a really low red blood cell count. They're going to monitor and do a transfusion on Wednesday. I was wondering if you could bring me some stuff? Toothbrush and pyjamas and whatnot?" "Course I'll bring ye a bag. Text me what ye need and I'll be there in a half hour." "Thank you Johnny." "You dinnae need to thank me. I love ye, bringin' a bag is nothing." "Well, thank you anyways."

Johnny must've sped with how quickly he gets to the hospital, conveniently sporting his tags on the outside of his khaki hoodie and a pair of military issue boots. If his charm isn't enough to wriggle the visiting hours around, his job most certainly is.

You give a little soft 'Hi' and he's already dropping a black duffel to his feet, scooping you up, trying to ease the tension from your back by rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades.

"Bought all yer things. Clean clothes, washbag, laptop, chargers." "You're an angel." "Am no, 'm just very worried for my woman."

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 3/8

Just an extra long chapter here because they didn't want to shut up. They're getting closer and their best friends are slowly coming on board to the idea.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Eddie was vibrating. Chrissy had done a total deep dive into this guy and other then being a bratty teenager and having shit parents there was nothing in Steve’s closet that would set off alarm bells.

Steve Harrington just knew how to deal with people to get what he wanted. He knew when to back off, too. In fact, Eddie was trying to get the dude stop backing off so much.

He was a people pleaser with eroded boundaries. And while that was certainly a problem, it wasn’t a ‘might be a serial killer’ problem like Chrissy thought.

So yeah, Eddie was vibrating because he was going to show Steve his first set of sketches for him to okay the design.

Steve was late. He had called to let him know he would be late. A meeting had gone over and he would be there as soon as he could.

Eddie pulled out his drawing pad and flipped through the designs he had come up with. He itched to pull out a pencil and “fix” a line or seven. But he had to refrain. If he started on it he would be so far down the rabbit hole that he would have three new designs before Steve got here.

A shadow crossed over him and he looked up to see Steve standing there.

“Steve!” he greeted warmly, getting to his feet.

They shook hands and then sat down.

“So what have you got for me?” Steve asked eagerly, leaning on his forearms to see Eddie’s drawing pad.

Eddie grinned at him. “I’ve got loads, big boy.” He turned the drawing pad around and Steve paid diligent attention to each piece.

He went back to the third design and turned it back to face Eddie. “I like this one. But I have one suggestion, if I may?”

Eddie shrugged. “Sure.”

“What if the dragon’s wings spread out over the four other pieces connecting them?” Steve asked, biting on his lip.

Eddie began to sketch furiously while Steve watched in fascination.

“Have you ever thought about streaming your process?” Steve asked. “It’s very enthralling.”

Eddie’s head jerked up like he’d forgotten Steve was there at all. He looked down at his pad and blushed. “I never thought I’d have the patience for it, you know? The whole explaining it while I’m doing it.”

Steve nodded. “I can see why that might deter you. But if you just drew or painted and put music over the top, I think it would do very well.”

“And would you be my first subscriber?” Eddie teased.

“Hell yeah!” Steve said with a grin. “And I would tell everyone I know to subscribe too.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He slid the drawing back over to Steve, who grinned.

“Perfect.”

*

“Edward Allen Munson!” Chrissy hissed as she threw open the door to their loft. “You tell me right now: are you joking about the YouTube channel?”

Eddie looked up from his sketching and blinked at her. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

She walked over to where he had sprawled out in front of the five canvasses and flopped down across from him. “I am pleased but only if you aren’t trying to butter me up to leave you alone about your ridiculous crush.”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, licking and smacking his lips as he struggled for words.

“It’s about the crush but not in the way you mean…?” he said with a grimace.

She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees. She rested her head on her knuckles to stare him down. He wiggled and squirmed under her gaze.

“Explain.”

So Eddie did.

Chrissy rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So no talking but what if I convinced you to let me write words to put up on the screen while you paint talking about the subject matter and why you chose it?”

“Oh!” he said brightly. “Even better! Why don’t I talk about D&D or music while I paint? That way I can babble to my hearts content without out having to drone on about the process.”

She blinked at him. “Eddie Munson you are a genius.” She rose up on her still crossed legs and kissed him soundly on the forehead. “I love it and you.”

Eddie blushed and went back to his sketching.

*

“Steve!” Dustin screamed into his ear when he picked up the phone mere days after his last meeting with Eddie.

“God, kid,” Steve groaned. “Tone it down. I don’t want to go deaf please.”

He could practically feel the eye roll from here.

“Eddie Munson has a YouTube channel!” Dustin continued to scream. “Oh my god do you know how big this is?!”

“One, I need to you to breath before you pass out from lack of oxygen to your brain,” Steve said. “You like your brain, don’t abuse it like this.”

Dustin let out a slow shuddering breath. “Right. I’m breathing.”

“Good,” Steve said slowly. “And two, I know about the channel because he told me about it.”

“You already know?” Dustin squawked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve sighed. “Look at the clock and tell me what time it is?”

“2:37pm. Why?”

“What time did the channel go live?” Steve asked, pinch the bridge of his nose.

“About one.”

“And where would you have been at one?” he asked, his eyes fluttering shut against the audacity of this kid.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, bud,” Steve said. “Oh. You were in class. Which I still don’t understand why you are taking summer classes. You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He tilted his head. “How did you find out so fast anyway?”

“I follow Eddie on twitter, Facebook, Instragram, and his fan Discord server.” This was said as though it was obvious.

“Well now you have one more place to follow him,” Steve said ignoring the tone.

“Steve…” Dustin said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why are you his first subscriber?”

“Look, Dustin,” he said trying to keep the giggle in his throat from bursting through, “I’ve got to run. I have a meeting.”

“Stev–”

Steve sighed as he held the phone against his forehead, grateful they weren’t in person.

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin said from the doorway, “why were you his first subscriber?”

He blushed a dark red. “Because I promised I would be when I suggested the channel three days ago?”

Robin narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

Steve wasn’t sure what she saw, but he knew he would find out soon enough.

*

Eddie was working on Dustin’s first because he felt like it was the most important to get right. Wizards were usually portrayed as dusty old men and it appeared that this kid had done the same. But then the character was created ten years ago.

But Eddie decided to avoid a Gandolf/Dumbledore looking dude and went more for a Jafar that had gotten the time to grow old. A neat goatee, a sharp piercing gaze and weather-beaten skin.

His robe had stars on it according to Will the Wise’s picture of them. So he decided to make the robe look it was filled with swirling galaxies and nebulae.

Eddie was working on the cave background when his phone chirped. He tucked his paintbrush behind his ear and pulled it out.

Rich Pretty Boy: I got ahold of a couple of friends of mine that are going to help promote your charity. Nancy Wheeler is an investigative journalist most of the time but she owes me a favor and is willing to interview you about the charity to get it seen on a national platform. I’ll email you the details.

Eddie blinked at his phone in shock. Nancy Wheeler was the new and improved Barbara Walters (improved as in she wasn’t an ass to the people she was interviewing.) That must be a huge fucking favor she owed Steve if he got her for this.

EM: Holy shit! What kind of blackmail do you have on her for this?

RPB: LOL! I’m sworn to secrecy, sorry. :(

EM: All right, keep your secrets.

RPB: That’s LotR, right?

EM: Correct. I know you keep telling me you aren’t a nerd, but dude every time we talk I gather more and more evidence to the contrary.

RPB: I blame Dustin. He wore me down.

EM: Then I take it upon myself to complete the education that Sir Dustin has begun!

EM: Meet me at my loft on Friday at 8pm. We are going to start with the animated classics of the 80s!

RPB: Beer or wine?

EM: Beer.

EM: I’ll see you later, pretty boy. I have this huge project I’m working on that is on a deadline.

RPB: Curse the bastard that’s taking up all your time. ;)

Eddie laughed out loud.

EM: He’s the worst. ;)

RPB: See you on Friday, Eds.

EM: Laters!

Eddie put his phone down with a fond smile on his face. It was absolutely ridiculous how much he loved this beautiful idiot that had come in and swept him off his feet.

*

“Tell me again why I have to be here for this?” Chrissy complained for the fifth time that hour.

“Because fair Christine,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “it’s not a date and he’s bringing his best friend.”

“How is his secretary his best friend anyway?” she groused, folding her arms and burying herself into the big fluffy sofa.

Eddie rolled his eyes and flopped down next to her. “They were friends before he took over the business. They had worked together in every job they’ve ever had so when he took over he put the one person he could trust in front of his office to shield himself from the assholes who make his life a living hell.”

Chrissy pursed her lips. “Fine.”

He kissed her cheek and went to go get the popcorn and candy.

“You ever going to tell this Steve you have a hard on for him?” she asked as he kept swapping bowls around for best placement.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. “Not while he’s paying me, anyway.”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s fair. It’s just...”

“That I have it so bad my only two thoughts are painting and Steve?” he finished for her.

“And me,” she agreed. “But pretty much.”

He put his head on her shoulder. “I’ve never fallen this hard for a person before. He’s sweet and funny and an absolute dork.”

Chrissy kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be good tonight. No bitching or being mean.”

Eddie snorted. “He’s also a queen bitch. So you can be you all you want. Just...”

She turned on the sofa, bringing her knees up to her chest. “But what?”

“When he starts gushing about something don’t...” he floundered for the right words. “Just don’t make him feel small about it.”

Chrissy tilted her head to side. “Has people made him feel small about his interests?”

Eddie nodded. “I think his parents were like yours, if I’m honest.”

“Rich, entitled assholes who wanted a doll and not a child?” she asked bitterly. He nodded. She sighed heavily. “Yeah okay. You got me. I know the signs and will adjust accordingly.”

He threw his arms around her and gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Just then the doorbell rang.

“They’re here,” Eddie said nervously.

Chrissy leaned down to look at him. “Do you want me to answer the door to give you a second to prepare?”

He nodded.

She gave his hands a squeeze and gracefully slid off the couch to do just that. She bounded over to the door and threw it open. And yeah, objectively she knew what Steve looked like, but seeing him out of his trademark blue power suit was a revelation. And immediately she got why Eddie fell hard for this guy.

He was wearing a David Bowie t-shirt from his Ziggy Stardust era and tight, light blue jeans. His sneakers were Nike’s, and his watch was Schwartz but those were the only major shows of wealth.

Next to him was not what she was expecting either. Chrissy was expecting someone more bookish. Glasses, frumpy. Or even the extreme opposite, a fashion plate. Someone who fit the sexy secretary stereotype. But nope.

She was fashionable, Chrissy had to give her that, but not in the way she thought. Billowy pants with a long-sleeved button up with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and pair of colorful suspenders. Her blonde hair was artfully tousled and she had freckles on her nose and cheeks.

In short, Chrissy was in love.

“Hi!” she greeted as though her heart wasn’t going to leap out of her chest to prostrate itself before this lovely maiden, only for her stomp all over it.

“Hey,” Steve smiled back. “You must be the agent/best friend, Chrissy I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s nice to put a name to the face.”

The woman elbows him. “Face to the name, dingus.”

Steve flushed. “I’m so glad I have you here to correct me.”

“Come on in,” Chrissy said warmly, moving out of the way for them to enter the loft. Inwardly she briefly wondered if maybe the best friend was the cause of the “limiting” as Eddie called it.

“Thanks!” he said and then pointed to the woman next to him. “This is Robin my platonic soulmate, best friend, and all around Stevie wrangler. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Aww,” Robin said with a smile and hip check.

Steve stumbled but laughed, too.

By the time they reach the living area Chrissy still wasn’t sure what to think about these two.

Eddie leapt to his feet at the sight of them.

“Stevie! Robin!” he greeted brightly. “You found the place okay?”

Robin nodded. “I’m glad you gave us directions on top of the whole GPS otherwise we would have ended up in some cemetery.”

Chrissy grimaced. “Yeah. But that cemetery was here before the condos and high rises so I can’t complain. Even though I really, really want to.”

“How old is the cemetery?” Steve asked eagerly.

She looked over at Eddie for help. “I don’t actually know.”

“Uh...” Eddie said unhelpfully. “I don’t know exactly but I know it’s over a century old.”

Steve lit up. “That’s so cool.”

“You like old graveyards, Steve?” Chrissy asked. She sat down on the sofa and grabbed the bag of popcorn.

“Steve is obsessed with them,” Robin said playfully.

“Am not,” he said and then turned to Chrissy and Eddie. “I’m really not. I just think it’s super neat.”

“What makes them so neat?” Eddie asked, taking the beer from Steve and setting it on the table with the array of goodies.

“Like seeing a bunch of people with similar death years knowing that it was because of a pandemic,” Steve said. “Or on Memorial Day going to see all the American flags for those that died during war time. It’s all just endlessly fascinating.”

“I could take you some time,” Eddie said. “Have a picnic lunch, make a day out of it.”

“You’d do that?” he asked eagerly.

Chrissy bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie here likes graveyards because they’re spooky.”

Steve laughed. “That’s a great reason to like graveyards.”

They settled down to watch the movies Eddie had picked out for them. A double feature of “The Hobbit” and “The Return of the King”.

“Holy shit!” Steve said afterwards. “How did they get more faithful to the books in less time than Peter Jackson?”

Eddie laughed. “Good story telling.”

They finally left for the night and Eddie closed the door behind them.

“Thoughts?” Eddie asked.

“And prayers,” Chrissy said. “Holy fuck do you have it bad. And I’ll swear under oath that if there is a god, he made Steve especially for you.”

He blushed. “Fuck, you can’t say that.”

“Why not?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“Because it feels that way for me, too,” he whined, “and if you think that too, then I’m royally fucked.”

Chrissy sighed. “Yeah.”

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

[kydrogendragon]

Call of the Night - Day 2 of Sandmanniversary

Words: 3k

Pairing: None (but implied future Dreamling)

Rating: Gen

Ao3 Link Here

When Hob signed up to help man the White Horse, he hadn't really cared about what it was they were doing. All he knew is it was a three month expedition, it paid decently, and they needed an engineer on board in case anything happened to the old girl. Honestly, he'd expected a fishing vessel or maybe some government contract type deal. Once he was aboard and introduced to the crew, however, it became apparent this was a little different.

Loads and loads of gear and boxes were set up in the hull. Constantine, their lead researcher and childhood friend, filled Hob in on the details of their mission. Apparently, they were a team of marine biologists (there were definitely more titles and fields, but they went over Hob's head, so marine biologists it was) studying some rare sightings out in the North Atlantic a good five hundred miles from port.

The journey so far was fine. He'd gotten to reconnect with Jo—who he hadn't thought he'd see again since she'd left for uni in the states. He'd also gotten to get to know the rest of the crew. And The White Horse was quite the beaut. She ran fine and ran smoothly. They probably didn't even need Hob around, which left him with more free time on his hands than he was used to. He's pretty sure he's just a few more "visits" away from Jo wringing his neck.

When he'd returned to his bunk later that week to a small stack of books and pad and paper, he just laughed. To Jo's credit, she at least found him some books that actually sounded like something he'd read.

It was a month into their journey when it happened. The sun had set long ago. Most of the crew was either having their "breakfast" for the late-night shift or fast asleep in their bunks. Hob strolled the deck, walking its length and enjoying the fresh sea air.

It was quiet save the roll of waves and splash of the ship against them. It was this, this peace and silence of the ocean at night that Hob had needed. He also probably needed something more to keep his hands busy as well, but at least Jo was trying with the drawing supplies, as shit as he was with them. The most exciting thing that's happened so far was one of the rigs kept catching when reeling up. He at least got to whip out the tools for a few hours.

He was about to head back when he heard...something. If they were closer inland, he'd guess it was a bird—still could be, he supposes. It was quiet, just barely heard over the crash of water against the steel of the ship. It droned on, long and drawn out. It was deep, pained almost. And each minute it sounded closer.

Then he saw it. There, way on the horizon, a pale red dot among the darkness. It looked like a buoy or beacon as it moved with the waves. Hob frowned, lifting his binoculars that hung around his neck up to his eyes. It was hard to pinpoint in the night, but when he finally landed on the light, he gasped.

It was still far out from their ship, the details hazy, but it wasn't a buoy and it definitely wasn't some sort of beacon or the like. It seemed to come from some sort of...creature? Fuck, it was hard to see at this distance.

The noise grew louder, sharper, as the light drew closer. Hob's heart raced in his chest as the eerie sound soon filled the air. Tales the crew had told flash through his mind, stories of leviathans, of creatures belonging to the deep. Of mermaids and sirens, of life unknown and undiscovered. Of the rare sighting they were here to locate in the first place.

Hob reaches down, pulling the walkie-talkie off his belt. He clicks the button and raises it to his lips.

"Alex, you're gonna want to see this. Starboard side, up closer to the bow. And hurry. Think we may just have your mystery monster."

Seconds pass before his walkie talkie crackles to life. "Hob? What?"

"I'd get up here quick, mate. Whatever it is, it's not man-made. And it's glowing."

"Glowing? Paul, can you—...Okay, okay! We're headed up. Keep your eyes on that thing."

Hob clips his device back onto his belt and keeps his eyes trained on the rapidly growing bright spot amongst the dark seas.

The thing looks only a mile from the ship at this point when the strange sound coming from it quiets. And then there are footsteps on the hull.

Paul and Alex race up with Jo and some of the less science-more muscle crew follow close behind. Paul steps up, putting a hand on Hob's shoulders to steady himself against the rocking of the boat.

“Where is it? What did you see?” he asks.

“Paul…look.”

Hob and Paul turn towards Alex who stands against the ledge. He points out into the water where the red glow is beginning to dim. Paul gasps, waving to the others.

“Go! Go, hurry! We need to get that thing, toss out the netting now!”

The ship comes to life. People race about, orders are shouted, lights flicked on. Ropes are tossed around as the rigs are set up and ready. Hob watches that fading dot all the while. Its hard to tell from here if the thing is sinking into the sea or if whatever part of it that glows is simply…fading. Fuck. Is the thing dying?

“Sending!” One of the riggers calls out as the net is lauched out into sea. The lines of rope are illuminated in the bright ship lighting until they fade from view as they fall over their target. Then, that noise from earlier sounds off. It howls, calling out into the darkness as—Hob guesses—the net falls over it.

“The hell is that noise?” Jo shouts over the sound of machinery and waves.

“Dunno!” Hob calls back. “The thing was making a different sound earlier.”

“What kind of sound?”

“More…pained. I guess.”

Jo looks grim as she turns back towards the ocean. The crew call out to one another and the rig groans as the net is recalled. The chains and gears slowly clank. Rope and netting is hauled aboard, swirled in piles to the side.

“What the hell are you putting the thing in when we get it on board?”

Jo pales. She races towards Alex, talking into his ear. Its too loud as the winds start to pick up and the waves grow stronger. Hob watches as the two dart below ground.

The click-click-clicking of the gears rolls on. Hob backs up, giving the open area of the boat wide berth for whatever it is they end up hauling in. Paul's leaning over, calling out to the other biologists and scientists when Hob catches the words “I see it!” leave the man's mouth. Alex reappears, sans Jo, and races over towards Paul, shaking the man in excitement as the last few dredges of netting are hauled up.

And then Hob sees it. He sees the mass of wriggling black and red and white. He sees a mess of fins and scales. And he hears the deep, almost growling call that comes from the things mouth. Its…its human mouth.

The creature, whatever it is, struggles against the thick ropes as its lowered onto the deck. Salt water splashes over the boards, clinging to Hob's skin. He hears the wet slap of flaining limps and fins as the last of the net grows slack.

And then he sees hands.

Or something close to hands. The fingers are longer, sharper. Like claws dipped black. As the creature reaches out, trying to get traction on the slippery surface, Hob can just barely make out webbing between the digits. Alex and Paul step closer along with some of the others. He steps forwards and then freezes. Eyes, as blue as the ocean herself, pin him in place. The red glow fills his vision and then all Hob sees is darkness. He drifts off to the sound of shouting and a final, deep melodic groan from the creature.

He wakes up in his bunk. Or a bunk at least. His is normally the upper one but Jo sits to his left so unless she gained the ability to float, he's on one of the lower ones. Probably Matt's.

“You're alive,” Jo greets, setting her notebook down on her lap. He can just barely make out what looks to be field notes as he turns towards her.

“I am. What…what happened exactly?”

She sighs, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Matt carried you down here all freaked out. Said you'd passed out on the deck as the damn freak storm rolled in. Hell of a time to play damsel in distress there, Gadling.”

He chuckles, stretching his limbs as he does so. His body is sore, but not in any way that's out of the ordinary. His head aches a bit but not too terribly. “Any ideas what happened to me?”

Jo shrugs. “Dunno. Weird pressure drop from the storm fucking with you in combination with who knows what else. Rach took a look over you though. Gave you a clean bill of health from what she can do with you being passed out as you were. Said you should probably go see her for another once over when you woke up though.”

He sits up, nodding as he does. “Sounds good.” Flashes of the night before run through his mind. He remembers the black and red and white. He remembers fins and scales and claws and hands. And then he remembers those eyes.

“The, uh. The creature. Did you—”

“Get it? Yeah. You missed out on all the fun of figuring out how the hell to get it in the observation tank. Could have used your strength though. Thing weighed a shit ton. Had to use a hell of a lot of tranquilizer to get it to even stay calm and not flair about. We'll have to run more tests and cross-reference the sighting reports but I think this just might be ghe creature people were talking about.”

“What is it?”

Jo huffs. “That's the thing Hobsie. It shouldn’t exist at all.” She turns with a mischievous smile on her lips. “Things a bloody mermaid.”

The creature—and Jo was right. Things a bloody mermaid. Well…merman, he supposes—glares at them from its tank that is definitely too small for a thing its size. The part of it that looks human is about the same size to a normal person, though it’s significantly skinnier and bonier than most men. If it had legs, it looks like it could have been a high-fashion runway model with that narrow waist and sharp cheekbones. But, it doesn’t have legs. Instead, its got a giant fucking tail with fins and scales and everything.

Hob is definitely processing this world perception altering finding completely fine.

If merpeople are real, are unicorns? Bigfoot? Nessie? Fucking dragons?

Hob needs to sit down.

He falls into the folding chair by the wall, hands in his lap, as he watches the group of scientists flitting between their equipment, the tank, and back to their equipment again. They’re checking the water for lord knows what and currently seem to be trying to find a way to get a blood sample without the creature—man—merman thing attacking them with either its claws or tail or teeth. Christ, it has sharp teeth. Nearly took off poor Paul’s fingers when he tried to grab a water sample. Looked more like a monster from the deep than anything from the Little Mermaid.

Its skin was pale and it stared them all down with eyes black as the night sky. It’s hair—was it even considered hair?—floats off its head in the tank like the smallest, most dainty strands of kelp you’ve ever seen. Well, if kelp was pitch black, anyway. Gills protruded from its neck near the leathery looking fins and fans on its face. Its hands faded from normal-ish looking skin to inky black nails that could pierce as well as a knife.

Then there was this thing’s tail. If the upper half of it was something that should be played by Bill Skarsgard, the lower half was a thing of beauty. A dream and a nightmare mixed. Most of the scales were black, but caught the light with an iridescent shine. It reminded him of the tail feathers of the roosters they’d kept when he was young. Mixed in were sections of deep ruby reds, painted on the merman in patterns similar to koi fish. There were large fins on either side and down towards the tip, not unlike a betta or goldfish, but were currently tucked close to its body. It was quite a sight to behold.

And then there were the eyes. The one Hob kept trying to make a conscious effort not to look at but keeps finding himself drawn to. They're dark. Black like the night sky. And yet, he remembers the brilliant blue of them on that first night….

“Hob?”

He startles, whipping his head up to see Johanna standing off to his side with an amused expression. He sighs, placing a hand over his heart.

“Christ, Jo. Make more noise before you sneak up on a man like that.”

She rolls her eyes before nodding her head towards the stairs. “Walk with me?”

Hob stands, following behind her as they make their way up and out of the room with the impossible but here creature. Jo pushes the door open and they step out onto the main deck. The salty sea air hits Hob’s lungs. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and he realizes just how shaky he’d been down there.

“So.”

Hob huffs. “So? This the part where you tell me I’ve seen too much and have me killed?”

Jo just turns her head slowly to him, looking at him with her classic ‘you’re an imbecile’ face. “Nope, wasn’t planning on any murder today. But I did have a favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?”

Jo sighs, pushing her bangs up out of her face. “Obviously, we’ve a bit of a major discovery on our boat here. And, of course, I’m thrilled about it and I’m certain the rest of our crew here is too, but I also know that this whole things gettin’ funded by the Burgess family and, no hate to Alex, but I trust his father about as far as I can throw him.

“So, if that thing we’ve got down there’s got a brain like ours, I want you to try and befriend it cause there’s no way in Hell I’m letting Roderick Burgess get his hands on something like this. And if you can befriend it, then maybe we can get it to trust us enough to release it without having to use all the equipment and having people figure out what we’re doing.”

Hob blinks. This was...not where he thought this conversation was going. “What do you think the old man’s going to do?”

“Keep it trapped like some exotic pet? Try and eat it? Fuck if I know what those rich bastards like to get up to in their free time, but I’ve never heard a good story come from them when it came to keeping rare creatures in their possession. How many horror stories have you heard about those rich old fucks keeping tigers or crocodiles or other shit in their house?”

Hob huffs a laugh. “Not many, honestly.”

“Right, forgot. You like to live like it’s medieval England and newspapers and Twitter haven’t been invented yet.”

“Hey! I do use the internet, you know!”

Jo elbows him lightly as she laughs. “So, will you help me?”

He sighs, leaning back against the wall by the door. Jo watches him, hands in her pockets. Hob can say, with certainty, he’s never been asked to befriend a literal sea creature before. And he’s pretty sure that keeping one in a tiny tank isn’t doing them any favors either. But it’s Jo that’s asking. And she doesn’t ask for much, not for serious stuff like this. And he owes her a lot already, like this job, for one.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Alright, yeah. I’ll see what I can do. I make zero promises I’ll be successful, but I’ll try my best.”

“Good. And if that doesn’t work, come two months, I’ll just need your brawn instead to help haul the thing back to the ocean instead.”

“That thing weighs like a hundred and fifty kilos! I’m not that strong!” Hob cries.

“Better work on your fish charm then, eh?” she says with a wink.

Hob shakes his head. The shit he does for this woman.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you lot do your poking and prodding. I’m going to stay up here for a bit and just...process my future months for a moment, yeah?”

Jo laughs as he heads back down the stairs, leaving Hob alone among the sound of waves and the spray of the sea. He walks over to the ledge of the ship wall. He folds his arms and rests them and his chin on them, sighing as he watches the boat rise and fall on the ocean waves. The stars shine above him, land long gone from view. It's just him, this boat, this crew, and the fucking fantastical creature in the tank just under his feet. What the hell has happened to his life?

He stays there until the chill seeps through his jacket and into his bones and only then does he retreat to the safe warmth of the interior. He pads his way down the stairs and hallways until he's crawling into his bunk. As Hob closes his eyes, he drifts off to the thoughts of pale skin and blue eyes and a lingering fear of what it all means.

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 31

A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter is late!! Usually I update on Sundays! And I've managed to update my Across This New Divide series once a week for the past couple of months! But I've been busy with a lot of other fics from different fandoms recently! Plus a lot of personal life stuff! So I'm going to have to go back to one a fortnight updates from now on! Updates will probably alternate between this and my SunnyBlue fic! Sorry again! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Prowl slowly came back online. For a moment, he was confused as to why the usual white of his ceiling was now grey.

Then something shifted besides him and Prowl turned his head to see Jazz's head resting in the crook of his arm.

Suddenly the memories of last night came flooding back to him and the concept of the Autobot Head Spy being asleep in his arms actually made sense.

Prowl realised that he had never actually seen Jazz asleep before. Previously Prowl had always fallen asleep first to find his fellow commander gone by the time he woke up.

But now Jazz was nestled into his side, a small smile on his face as his body rose and fell with soft intake of his vents. It was the first time Prowl had ever seen him look at peace.

Prowl managed to save the sight to his memory banks before the previously dim light of Jazz's visor blinked blue as his eyes presumably opened.

Jazz froze. His visor glitches white, apparently as surprised as Prowl to find that he was still here.

For a second Prowl thought the spy was going to bolt. Then a grin graced a his face.

"G'morning beautiful."

People had called Prowl many things over the years; a drone, a stuck up prude and an arsehole. However nobody had ever called him beautiful before. Prowl knew he must have been blushing like a inexperienced sparkling, but there was little he could do to stop it. Especially when Jazz stroked his servo down the side of his burning cheek.

Jazz shifted and Prowl's face flushed even brighter as he thought the spy was going to lean down to kiss him. Then he got out the berth instead.

Prowl felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. The past three instances confirmed that Jazz did not stick around. He should not have expected a different outcome.

He watched as Jazz searched through the draw across the room, waiting for him to find whatever he was looking for before he left. Eventually the spy picked out a bottle of energon, home brewed but thankfully not high grade otherwise Prowl would have to report him for day drinking. Jazz strolled back across the room, but instead of heading out his door, he crawled back into bed.

"You're staying?" Prowl asked, bewildered.

"Well this is my room." Jazz shrugged, holding out the bottle.

Functioning on instinct, Prowl took a sip. It was stronger than he personally preferred and silk smooth the way he knew Jazz liked it. Not sure how to process the unexpected outcome of Jazz actually sticking around, Prowl's eyes wondered around the habsuite. The last time that he had been in here he'd been a bit preoccupied trying to stay alive so he hadn't had the chance to look at it properly.

It was far more sparse than Prowl had imagined. Aside from the electro-base resting in the corner, it was practically empty.

Jazz must've noticed his eyes focusing on the base as after he'd had his turn to drink, he picked it up. Lying back down on the berth, Jazz idly strummed on the strings. Despite appearing to be plucking them at random, Prowl found the melody to be soothingly pleasant to his audials. Prowl knew nothing about music but even he could recognise that Jazz had a natural talent. He couldn't help but wonder what life Jazz could have lived with that talent if not for the war.

"Did you want to be a musician?" Prowl asked.

Jazz snorted.

"Everyone assumes that. Not that I can blame them. And if before everything went to shit if someone had offered me a recording contract I wouldn't have said no." Jazz paused his plucking, stroking a hand along the smooth metal of the instrument's neck. "Actually I wanted to be an actor. So I could be anyone but myself." Prowl watched as his grip around the instrument tightened. Personally, Prowl didn't think that Jazz was such a bad person to be. "I would be famous. And everyone would love me for it." He loosened it again as he let out another snort. "I suppose I did get get my dream in a way. Except instead of dodging paparazzi I'm dodging Deception blaster fire."

Jazz turned his gaze to Prowl. Even after everything Prowl had a hard time deciphering the look beneath his visor.

"What about you then? Why did you become a cop?"

Prowl could tell Jazz that he did it because he wanted to help people. That was the answer he usually gave. And it wasn't a lie. He did want to help others. But…

"I was born with a battle computer embedded within my processor." Prowl said, unconsciousness bringing a servo to the side of his head. He could feel the buzz of the bytes of the computer continuously firing under his skin. "Every day for as long I can remember it would run and run and run different scenarios over and over and over again about anything and everything that had ever happened." He scratched the side of his head, digging for an itch that never went away. "I thought joining the police force would at least put it to good use; to protect lives and keep it's endless outcomes occupied. And the enrichment of scenarios did stop my mind from breaking." Prowl brought his other hand up to his wrist, forcing his servo back down and once again fighting against the urge to rip out his own brain. "But no matter how many different options I would propose on how to fix our system to fulfil its purpose of keeping people safe. Those higher up never cared to implement any of them. Because they never cared about helping anyone in the first place."

That was why it hurt so much when people said he didn't care. Because for the longest time, he was the only one who did.

Even now, he couldn't stop running simulations on how many lives he could have saved if only those in charge had listened.

"You ever thought what you could be without thinking it through your battle computer first?" Jazz asked.

"I can't."

"Really? You never thought about being a musician?"

It was Prowl's turn to snort.

"Even if it was not for this," Prowl tapped his head. "I do not think I would have made a good musician."

"How wouldya know if you never tried? Here!"

Before Prowl could protest, Jazz had placed the base into his lap and Prowl quickly became preoccupied with not damaging it again. So much so that he didn't notice Jazz was now kneeling behind him until he felt the now familiar weight of his arms surrounding him.

Jazz's hands cradled his, moving one hand to the neck of the base whilst the other was held against the strings. Jazz placed his fingers until they mirrored his, and moved them against the strings. They made a simple strumming sound.

"Now you try." Jazz smiled.

Prowl moved his fingers on his own. Once again the strings strummed with sound. He did it again. It was the same outcome. Next time he did it slower, the sound instead coming out soft. He tried and changed and strummed, making as many different sounds as he could.

Prowl had no idea if any it was any good. But in the end it didn't really matter. Music had no logical purpose to it. It couldn't be programmed into a weapon or change the outcome of a battle. It wasn't designed to do anything physical. It was made to evoke a feeling.

To create something without a purpose other than to create was freeing in a way Prowl had never felt before.

Prowl glanced over his shoulder to find Jazz already staring at him.

Despite the fact that they had literally been inside each other, this creation of feeling was the most intimate experience Prowl had ever felt with another person.

"What if you don't need the whole world to love you?" Prowl asked, for once just doing instead of over thinking what he was about to do. "What if you only needed one person?"

"Like who?"

Prowl shivered as the musician's breathe tickled his shoulder.

Jazz moved his hand from the base to cup his chin, holding him the same tenderness he did his instrument.

Prowl glanced at his parted lips, as Jazz tugged them ever closer until he could taste their mingling morning breathes in the air.

"THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME! DO YOU READ ME?"

Prowl bashed himself into Jazz's nose, completely missing the spy's lips, as the Prime's voice blasted over his comm. By Jazz's echoing wince, he too must've gotten the same message.

"Y-yes sir." Prowl replied, grateful that their leader could not see the state that they were currently in. He couldn't even look at Jazz who had dropped the hand from his chin to instead cradle his own dented nose.

"GO TO THE MEDBAY! NOW!"

[traumatizedartist]

Sooo... I saw @electronix-arts repost of, and I quote, "Khori Yuri", and safes to say it gave me an.... idea, so to speak

Fucked up Khan au x transfem Khan au???

Maybe? Possibly

Who knows

I might

Khitties might become real

(It will become real)

Anyways rambling of this under the cut

Soo, transfem khan

She figures it out while she's stuck with J, believe it or not

She had always felt a bit more girly than her male counterparts, but she didn't know why, and by the time she did, Uzi was already a teenager and Nori was "dead"

So she kept it a secret, out of fear mostly, that Uzi would become even more distant with her if she found out(the exact opposite will happen)

It didn't stop the late night crying in dysphoria, or the absolute hatred of her voice and clothing(I mean worker drones were made to look uni sex clearly, no curves what so ever)

She doesnt like her wrinkles either, or her mustache, but what would happen if those would randomly dissapear one day? Everyone in the Colony would question her and she didn't want to deal with that

Cut to episode 8, when khans face gets fucked up and J bitch slaps her with her body back into the labs, that being how khans face and arm got destroyed in my fucked up Khan au

But, as shes stuck with J, they both realize they have a lot in common, and become really close, like siblings, older bro lil sis, untill one day Khan tells J that it's actually older sis, not older bro, and J just, accepts it, she's like, "Yeah, that's fine" and Khan just breaks

So they hug for a bit and J, like the good lil sis that she is, takes Khan to look for some wigs, they find one, on a dead drone, and Khan, reluctantly, takes it

Cut to when Uzi and nori find them

When they do they're in shock, of course Khan doesn't notice them at first but when she does she fucken books it, nori grabs her with the solver and the most awkward moment happens between the three of them, and then to make it even worse, j comes in

She comes in sayin something like, "Hey Khan, I found a girly outfit from a dead body for you-" It's just more awkward silence

Khan is white in the face, the alternative to red in the face like humans, and nori finally says "Holy shit I have a wife now"

Also nori is bi, there is no other choice, she is and will always be bi

After she says that Uzi is like, "Sooo, you're trans" and Khan is like, "that's what its called?"

She may have known that she wanted to be a girl but she didn't know what the word for it was, she never bothered to look it up

Uzi is bewildered, and is like, "y know what, we'll talk about it later, let's go home" so they do

Uzi, somehow, found noris old wardrobe, and gives it all to Khan

And that's all I have right now

There will be a comic of this coming soon, trust me on that, and if you want to add on or draw this concept, please tag me so I can see it🥺🥺

[drone-three]

Messing with some energy weapon ideas for Murderbot's arms.

There is a reference that the inorganic parts around the weapons ports may look like augments, but the weapons ports look like weapons ports. Also, when Murderbot was at Milu, it commented that the skin on its fingers was sensitive enough to be able to feel the release catch for Abene's helmet, so it has skin there. And given it can pass for human with its sleeves down, in my mind the hands look human. So there we go.

Of course, my idea of what its arms and hands look like may change upon next re-read. :D

[umblrspectrum]

so gamebreaker

[mincyberr]

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ welcm to my profile !!

I'm cy/cyber and a MD, TMR and Kpop fan!

this profile is run by a minor so do not send NSFW here!!!

I do hot takes and random shit 🤭

ﾟ:｡ ִ ✿𝆬 ⁔⁔ ۪ ⊹ ֗ ꫂ

about me:

I'm a creative person, aka I do art, gaming/coding and anything arty or creative

I'm a INFP!! yes I'm a huge introvert 😔😭

I go to school so I might not post at times, keep it in mind! 🤩

I am a big fan of TMR and MD so sorry-

ﾟ:｡ ִ ✿𝆬 ⁔⁔ ۪ ⊹ ֗ ꫂ

fandoms:

Maze Runner: top three - Minho, Newt, Thomas

Murder Drones: top three - N, Uzi, V

Kpop: top three - Julie, Natty (both KOF) Giselle (aespa)

ﾟ:｡ ִ ✿𝆬 ⁔⁔ ۪ ⊹ ֗ ꫂ

other accs:

this is only a tmr acc, so I post tmr

ﾟ:｡ ִ ✿𝆬 ⁔⁔ ۪ ⊹ ֗ ꫂ

my draw/MD acc is @twiuzii (I post art there)

thanks for reading, I add stuff at times here

♡ cy/cyber (stan minho)

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// Kuroo Tetsurou: Deforestation Enthusiast. inked 04. //

prev << 04 >> next

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations.  Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16.  Reader discretion is advised.*

Afternoons were Kuroo’s favorite part of the work day.  With the day’s routine settled into place, it gave him the perfect opportunity to zone out. Just him, the hum of the machine, and whatever the hell his client was droning on about now. One final wipe and- 

“Alright. You’re all done,” Kuroo smiled, wheeling his stool away from his client. “Go check it out and let me-”

“Hey, Kuroo? I finished your list.”

Heads snapped towards the swinging door separating Kuroo’s space from the rest of the shop. Fuck… He had forgotten about you. You had walked in the shop that morning and Kuroo hadn’t even bothered to greet you. He had left a piece of paper, outlining all of the chores he needed you to do for the day on the front counter with Akaashi. ‘DO NOT BOTHER ME’ had been written across the bottom of the page, underlined three times just to get it through your head.

It obviously didn’t get through your head.

“Was there a question in there?” Kuroo drawled, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees in the pure picture of annoyance. You begin to open your mouth to retort but he puts his hand up to stop you. “What part of ‘Leave me alone’ did you not comprehend?” He shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes as he turns back to his client, a smile back on his face.

“Sorry about that! My new apprentice still needs some house training. So, what do you think?”

“It’s as perfect as always, Kuroo. Thank you,” his client smiles, sitting back in the chair.

“Perfect! I’m going to get a couple shots of it for my portfolio and then we can get you finished up, cool?” The client nods, settling back as Kuroo finishes up the final steps, repeating the care instructions that he’s prattled off so many times that it’s become as natural as brushing his teeth. “But you already know all of that shit, so just keep doing what you’ve always done. You have my number, so if it gives you any problems, just shoot me a text or come on in. I’m going to get cleaned up back here, so Akaashi can take your payment and you’re set.”

The thick silence was only interrupted by the quiet spritzing of the cleaning bottle as Kuroo wiped down the chair. He crumpled up the rag, tossing it in the trash as he stripped off his gloves, yellow eyes turning to meet yours. “What did I tell you, kid? If you’re going to work with me, you gotta learn to move those legs. Quit standing there and help me get this cleared out so I can set up for my next appointment.”

You’re barely at his side when he’s already handing you his ink cups. “Dump that ink out and sterilize them. They go back over in that cabinet when you’re done.”

“Are you ever going to teach me how to tattoo or am I just going to be your housekeeper until I’m done with your shit?” 

“Are you ever going to clean those like I asked or are you just going to keep running your mouth until I kick you out of my shop?” Kuroo smiles up at you with a look that’s more sinister than kind, watching as you roll your eyes before traipsing off towards the sink in the corner to clean the ink.  “You have a good eye for composition and you obviously understand color theory, but your technical drawing skills are shit.”

You pause in your task to look over at him. “You know, that was almost a compliment.”

Kuroo stands from his stool, long legs carrying him across his work area to where you stand. The little space by the sink is cramped, his body pressing up against yours as he mutters a quiet, “Excuse me,” replacing bottles of ink on the shelf. “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment. It was just a fact. I’m not teaching you how to tattoo until you can draw.”

“But I can draw. Isn’t that why you took me on?”

He barks a laugh at you. “If you think that being able to draw is all this job fucking takes, then you might as well leave now, kid. You can make sick art, but believe me when I tell you that you can’t draw. You’re covering sloppy linework and bad anatomy with good color saturation and dynamic poses. I’m not letting you anywhere near a tattoo machine until you fix that shit.”

And just like that, he’s pushing back past you, leaving you to trail after him like a lost puppy, breaking into a near jog just to catch up with him. “So that’s it? I’m just not going to get to tattoo?”

Those black boots halt and you can’t stop before you awkwardly bump into him. “What was rule number four, kid?”  He watches your face as you wrack your brain, scoffing at your silence. “Listen, kid. I will teach you how to tattoo when you can show me that you have the fundamentals down. But until then, welcome to the reality of apprenticeship. It’s not all fun and getting to make art all the time. You can’t expect someone to let you permanently alter their body if your lines are shaky.”

“My lines aren’t-”

“Don’t argue with me, kid. You’re the one who came to me. You’re the one who came in here and annoyed me into taking you on. I don’t have to do this, you know. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re here or if you find some other artist to take you on. So if you don’t like how I’m doing things, by all means, get out of my shop,” Kuroo sneered, towering over you. He didn’t miss the way you instinctively ducked away from his looming form, looking up at him with something that might be read as timidness.  “Akaashi just got some new jewelry in. Go help him with the display case.”

And without another word, he stalks away from you, saying nothing as he slides into the chair at his desk and opens his sketchbook to a new page.

“He’s always that much of an asshole,” Akaashi’s voice comes from behind you. “Come on. Up front.”

The desk clerk slides a stool over for you to sit on and you didn’t realize just how much your feet were killing you until you were able to sink down, doing your best not to immediately lay down against the display counter to relish in the much-needed break. This was nowhere near what you had anticipated your apprenticeship would be… Sure, you knew that it wasn’t going to be all rainbows and butterflies, but this kind of menial labor all day? You didn’t realize that becoming an apprentice meant also becoming the shop housemaid.  Fuck, maybe you should’ve just listened when he told you to go. In the first week, you hadn’t even so much as touched a pen, let alone gotten an opportunity to show off your skillset. You had been stuck cleaning ink stains from the tile floor, polishing every damn piece of jewelry until it shined brighter than the fucking sun, sent on meaningless errands that did nothing to help you learn about tattooing. 

And now look at you, sorting individually bagged pieces of jewelry to be ready to sell. At this rate, you were closer to becoming a piercer than a damn tattoo artist.

Akaashi clears his throat, securing a golden hoop to a fake ear to display the latest jewelry selections. “I’m sorry, you know. About him.”

You just shake your head, trying to focus on your task. “It’s fine. I was warned… I just thought- I don’t know what I thought. I mean, I had heard that he could be a little rough around the edges, but I didn’t expect him to be that much of an asshole. And don’t get me wrong, I can put up with a lot, but this isn’t the fun playful shit talk that I’m used to.”

“I know. This is all new to him too, not that that’s an excuse for how he’s treating you, but just give him some time. Kuroo has never been the warmest guy around. He’s just playing a part right now, trying to be the big bad mentor that he thinks he should be,” Akaashi says, turning his finished curation towards you. “What do you think?”

Stunning. That’s all there was to say about it. The soft whites of the opal stones that he had used to create a small constellation in the flat of the ear contrasted beautifully with that gold hoop he had placed through the conch. Triple lobe and an anti-tragus to bring the star motif back to the bottom with some added dangling elements to pull the eye to all of the points of his masterpiece.

“Are you a piercer?”

Akaashi huffed a quiet laugh at your question. “No. Needles aren’t really my thing.”

“Akaashi, I think you need to find a new place to work.”

He grinned at you, eyes crinkling ever so slightly beneath his glasses. “Believe me, I know. But, in all seriousness,” he starts, placing his curation into the display case alongside the others, “I spend a lot of time researching jewelry and what stones go with what metals, what’s ‘in’ when it comes to styles and what no one is buying anymore. They try to stay up with what’s popular so they can learn what they need to in order to best advise their clients. Being able to take care of this one small thing takes some of the weight off their shoulders.  That’s all I’m really here for - just to help out where I can.”

You’re about to respond, to commend him, but the printer begins whirring, spitting out page after page after page. It’s not long after that the sound of Kuroo’s chair being rolled away from his desk and the steady beat of his footsteps enter your ears. 

Akaashi scowls as the printer continues to spill out sheets of paper, burning through the ream of paper. “What? You printing out a damn manuscript or something? What is all this?” He asks.

Kuroo says nothing, just taking the already unnecessarily large stack of paper and sliding open a filing cabinet. He thumps a binder down in front of you followed only by that freshly printed stack of pages. “Hole punch… Where the hell did I put the hole punch,” he grumbles to himself, pushing his fingers through his hair, yanking open drawers, bending down to look under desks, standing on his toes as if he needed to be any taller to see on top of the shelves.

“You going to tell me why you just became the leading cause of deforestation or are you just going to keep looking around like a meerkat?” You retort, thumbing through the stack. “Jesus, what is this shit?!”

“You’re homework for the next few months,” he mutters, finally rifling through the right drawer to pull out the 3-hole punch that he’d been searching for. “I spent the past few nights coming up with a lesson plan that we’re going to follow to get your technique up to where it needs to be.”

“Lines? Basic shapes? Kuroo, this shit is insulting. I know how to make a fucking circle!”

Kuroo simply cocks his head at you before grabbing a pen and a sticky note, holding them out to you. “Okay, then show me. Show me that you can make a circle in a single pass.”

Wordlessly, you take them from him. You can feel your hand shaking. Stupid fucking-

“Breath.”

You look up at Kuroo, his yellow eyes unusually soft as he watches you. Fixing your grip on the pen, you quickly draw your circle. 

“Fuck.”

It’s lopsided. More egg-shaped than circular. Kuroo takes the pen from you, flipping over the sticky note and you’re just left to watch as he slowly drags the pen across the yellow paper. His circle isn’t perfect either, but it’s damn near close. He tuts his tongue. “I locked my wrist on the upstroke,” he mutters to himself, examining his handiwork before crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash.

“I know that you can make all these perfect shapes digitally, but there’s no holding down the pen to create a perfect circle while you’re tattooing. Do that and you’re going to have one pissed off client. You have to nail these fundamentals now or you’re going to be paying the price for it later. So here’s how this is going to work,” Kuroo pauses, picking up part of the stack. “This week, you’re going to make 100 vertical lines, 100 horizontal lines, and 100 diagonal lines every day. Take it nice and slow and get used to the pulling motion. Try not to rotate the page, because you can’t rotate a client’s arm a thousand different directions to get the right angle. You need to switch the way you’re seeing something? You’re the one who has to move.”

“So I’m going to spend all week just making lines? You’re joking, right?”

“I wouldn’t have printed all these pages if I was fucking joking. Give me your lines by the end of the day so I can look over them. I need 90% of your lines to be damn near perfect before we can move on to the next lesson. If you fail, you’re doing this again next week.”

You stare at him, absolutely baffled. 300 lines a day? He has to have fucking lost his mind to think that you can’t even make a simple line without screwing up. “Did you have to do this as an apprentice?”

Kuroo laughed. “Dude, hell no. I was lucky to get through that apprenticeship without contracting some bloodborne illness. But, I had to pick up what my mentor didn’t teach me somewhere. Believe it or not, I’m trying to make you successful, kid” He props his elbows on the counter, pushing the three-hole punch towards you. “Now, you can either get all those pages in that binder, or you can just carry that stack around like an idiot, but I’ll be honest with you, I don’t accept crumpled assignments.”

“Kuroo, this is like 300 pages!”

He smirks at you, pushing himself away. “Closer to 500, but you get the idea. Have fun!” And he’s about to walk off, about to retreat back to his space to put his headphones on and not speak to another soul for the rest of the day.

The bell jingles as the door to the shop opens.

“Well, well, well. Looks like the rumors were true, huh, alley cat?”

{Taglist: @boosyboo9206 @universal-s1ut @zamorazz // never miss an update! send an ask or a dm to be added to the inked taglist!}

[definesanity]

Bite Me (Taken Literally)

'What the fuck?'

Uzi had no filter, and never had. She forgot to install that update. But thank Robo-God she did.

Because she was dumbfounded.

She was the weird kid, the one who nobody liked; heck, she's pretty sure half her class doesn't even know she exists, let alone knows her name.

Which was why she was befuddled at a letter in her locker, asking her to visit a certain location.

Uzi had common sense, despite what many say. And so she used it. And deicided to always have her flight reflexes ready, no matter what happens.

Arriving, there was... nothing. Of note. It was just a regular cabin, much smaller than the ones in camp she's been wanting to visit.

She then heard... something. A noise would describe it, given she couldn't pinpoint it. And it came from a bed. Because of course there's a bed. Why wouldn't there be a bed?

Uzi slowly walked up the bed, thinking on what she'll find; maybe a dead Drone? A human? Heck, anything will do...

Pulling it back... to nothing. Just a bed.

"Huh. Maybe I am a bit paranoid..." she muttered to herself, and turned around to face the most horrific thing she's ever seen.

"JUMPSCARE." the thing wearing the skin ('Holy shit it's a human girl fused with a Disassembley Drone?!') announced, as it tackled Uzi on to the bed, arms pinned via weird tendrils.

The girl gazed down at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as two golden Xs shown amid the dark void of where eyes should be. "SMUG LAUGH. SLOW REACTION TIME THERE, BUDDY."

"Screw you!" Uzi attempted to kick the girl, but her legs were pinned down. The girl crawled on to her.

And without warning, bit her neck like a vampire.

Code flew past her eyes at a speed she couldn't understand, and then, it was gone. Leaving only Uzi and the girl.

"Who the hell are you?!" the self-proclaimed angsty teen demanded, with the Disassembley Drone/Human thing looking back. Being honest, she felt braver than she should be.

"MM. I AM THE SOLVER O-O-OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC. THE VESSEL IS TESSA. SHE WAS A GOOD FRIEND, UNTIL. WHIMSICAL SIGH. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO SEE IT, BUT, WELL. HERE WE ARE."

"You killed a child?!" Uzi shook her head, looking at Tessa. "Okay, sure, yeah, but still, really?! ...Wait, you're the thing that was--hold on, what the heck did you inject me with?!"

Tessa only giggled, as the tendrils went from Uzi's arms and legs and allowed Uzi to move.

"YOU WILL SEE, SOON. EVIL, LAUGHTER."

And then, she was gone.

"What the fuck?"

---------------------

"Sheesh, who looked at you wrong today?" V commented later on, as Uzi sat on the ship's chair looking sullen.

"Bite me." Uzi shot back, doing her hardest to sketch the thing. She also did eleven different scans of her software and hardware, and even her circuitry, but couldn't find anything amiss.

"Rude." V leaned back in her chair, looking around. "Where's N?"

"You tell me." she had started to draw the thing's ribbon, next, being done with the head.

"Hunting, then. I feel sorry for the guy, doesn't know what he's missing."

"Missing what, having to listen to you?" Uzi had started to draw the Xs.

"Chatting with you."

The Worker Drone stopped. She blinked, looking at V. "Say what."

"Exactly! For a Worker Drone, anyways, you're actually interesting. Not every day that happens. Or ever."

Uzi replied by not replying, going back to drawing.

"What are you even doing?"

"Got attacked, drawing the attacker, if the court was still here that would be wonderful."

"Really? Court?"

"Hey, before you lot came we had a civilization; never saw it myself, but some of my Dad's friends talked about how one of them tried to win a divorce case. It was really boring, the way he told it, but I was a kid who had nothing better to so than look through the Internet, so I listened for the full three hours.

"What what did I get? A headache, someone's life story, and wishing we could have court again so I could disown my dad." Uzi finished her story with a loud sigh, opening her eyes.

V was looking at her with muted surprise. "...Got any other stories?"

"Wha--You're interested?"

"Hey, anything is better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Speaking of, did you know that--?"

"--There is a setting that makes our bodies more human? Yes, I do, and I shudder to imagine what was going through their minds while making us."

She finally finished putting the last details on the sketch. "Okay, finally done. If you see this girl, tell I don't exist."

She presented the drawing to V, who blinked at it, and an emotion flew past her face. Then, it was gone, and V nodded. "Eh, fine. Anyways, stories, please."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want."

"Ever killed someone?"

"No, but I have committed several acts of violence against my classmates."

"Kinda hot." V said it with such a straight face Uzi had to pause. Then, what she said hit her.

"...I'm gonna... get some fresh air." Uzi started to get up and move towards the hatch, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"What, sick of lil' ol' me?"

Uzi just rolled her eyes (as best as she could, anyways) and left.

None saw the code flashing by V's visor, or how V's eyes softened looking at Uzi.

-------------------------------------

Lunch time arrived, and Uzi sat by herself. Not solely because she was a loner (that was one half of the reason), but because she preferred it.

Unfortunately, a hand touched her shoulder, and Uzi felt her solitude ending.

"Heya, um..." of all the people, Uzi had Lizzy had the bottom of her list. "...Uzi, right?"

"...Yes...?" tread carefully, who knows what she wants...

"Oh, I was right then, good; hey, listen, could I borrow you for a sec? Cool, thanks!"

"Woah--hey, what the hell?!" Uzi was then dragged away, her not giving an answer but Lizzy answered for her.

Through the corridors the two walked and walked (or, in Uzi's case, dragged and dragged), when the two ended up in Lizzy's dorm (she thinks it is. She could have been dragged into an empty one). Her arm was let go of.

"So. Uzi. Gotta be honest, I like your style."

"...Sty...? What, my clothes?"

"Yes, your clothes!" Lizzy rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Uzi. "Love the goth look, by the way. Gives you an approachable look, and makes people wonder if you're actually a softie underneath that cold exterior."

"...Where is this going." Uzi was not annoyed, just short of patience. "Is this about prom? It's about prom, isn't it?"

"Duh! I could go the classic, popular girl look but, let's be honest, it gets stale. Soooooooo me and Doll were trying to find new ideas and, well, here you are!"

"...Okaaaaay... where is Doll, anyways?"

["Hey."]

Uzi near enough punched Doll in the face, only for the Russian Drone to catch it.

That time, Uzi did see the code flying past her visor, and was able to catch some of it:

'OVERRIDE_ACTIVE'

'CONTACT=TRUE: BYPASS DEFENSES'

"...Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeee."

Uzi wisely sprinted away, taking her as fast as her little legs can carry her, which was into her room.

--------

She breathed a sigh of relief, and fell on to the lower end of her bed.

Then jumped further up, as the thing licked her face.

"You again?!"

"SAD LOOK. DID YOU, NOT MISS ME, UZI?" Tessa attempted to look sad, but failed due to the lack of motor functions. In better light, Uzi can see just how grafted the girl was on to the Worker Drone, and she held back on vomiting for the time being.

"Well, I can get answers! Just... first things first, what the hell is your relationship with my mom?!"

"AH, NORI. SHE WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSTS. SHE IS DEAD NOW, UNFORTUNATELY. BUT, REALLY, WHAT CAN YOU DO?" The AbsoluteSolver shrugged, looking less than sorry.

"...You motherfucker...!" Uzi felt angry, and rightfully so, but she held back due to the thing having the advantage, given its ability to make holograms.

"OOPSIE-DAISY."

This could not get worse.

"Heya, Uzi!"

IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET SO MUCH WORSE--

"Sorry about that, I was just fixing up a door! Heh, you know what they sa--" Khan cut himself off, looking at the scene in front of him: Uzi on her bed, with a fleshy-looking thing on top of her. "...U-Uzi--?"

"IT'S A PUPPY!" Uzi screamed out.

"...W-What?"

"...Y-Yeah! Turns out um, humans kinda... made up what they looked like, yeah! Sure they're... kinda weird looking, but they're adorable, in their own... creepy. Fleshy. Way. Er. Yeah!"

"...I see!" Khan believed her. Somehow. "Well, take care of them, Uzi!"

She waited until the door was closed, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

She glared at the Solver. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know. Got it?"

"AFFIRMATIVE SMILE."

"ALSO, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT, ME BEING CUTE?"

"Screw off. Now, answer me. What the fuck did you inject me with?!"

"DO YOU LIKE IT? I MADE IT MYSELF."

"Can't answer that if you don't tell me what it even does!"

"AN ANTITHESIS TO YOUR SOLITUDE. AN ANSWER TO YOUR LONELINESS."

"I'm not lonely, excuse you! I have N!"

"EYE ROLL. SURE. IT OVERRIDES DRONES TO FEEL CARING TO YOU. I." Tessa looked sheepish, as weird as it sounds. "WENT EXCESSIVE BY ACCIDENT. CONSIDER IT AN APOLOGY FOR KILLING NORI."

"Pretty shit apology, not gonna lie." came the dry reply. Uzi got off the bed and stood up, looking at the corpse. "But why me?"

"..." silence only came from the thing.

"...I'm gonna leave. Come on, I'll take you for a walk or whatever it is they do."

"GET ZIP BOMBED."

As soon as Tessa said that, Uzi had a zip file open on how to care for a puppy.

...Ugh, she's in for it now, isn't she...?

[groggygrimalkin]

Thinking about homestuck species headcanons but I've got a weird art block and don't feel like drawing them so what I've got so far is:

A group of trolls and or drones is called a swarm

Leprechauns are broken down into three main classes which are Sharks,Mammals,and Amphibians

If you somehow ate Cherub meat you would go insane almost emmediately

Trolls no matter blood caste without any outside influence live a very long time but species like Carapacians live even longer

Speaking of Carapacians they have an insane bite force only outclassed by Cherubs and some species of Lusii

Carapacians and Tealbloods both have something alike and it's the ability to eat really bizzare shit without getting sick

Leprechauns fuzz comes in three different piles(hehe pile get it because pile is the measurement of fabric being raised. And Felt is a fabric-I'll stop)Medium,Short, and Long

Trolls and Drones used to be able to carry young in some way years ago but that function is now vestigial

Before they pupate Trolls gain slight features of their lusii or person they imprint on like ear shapes and teeth and even vocalizations