#made the panels at the start of my shift. worked too long on the long gradient

[cornsarts]

Make a terrible comic day apparently!!!!!! I did this on company time!!!!!

[bkd-b3ans]

Boothill keeps messing up his revolver from all the slapping and you have to fix it

Heya, love For Boothill too big, so I've started writing something for the first time. Sorry for any mistakes, literally never wrote a fanfic before.

Ship: Boothill x mechanic reader (gn, but possible masc leaning)

Warnings: none, it's just a bit of banter

Chapter(s?) : just one part of a long thing I want to do. I will accompany this with art too of my oc later down the line.

"Boothill, can you stay still for one moment?" You said, clear annoyance in your voice as you almost dropped the small pins you had to hold with a pair of tweezers inside the cowboys disassembled arm.

You were trying to fix his revolver, which so happened to get jammed again due to his recklessness in fighting. You've told him so many times to stop slapping it into place so aggressively, that the springs and pins inside it are going to get worn out faster or shifted out of their place, but those pleas always fell onto deaf ears.

"M'bad sugar, it just gets sooo boring stayn' still like this for so fudging long." He said, rolling his eyes and slumping back down in his chair, tapping the fingers of his other hand onto the arm rest.

He always had these tics of his when getting fixed, which, to a degree, you could understand. After all, sometimes his repairs could take a few minutes or entire days where he'd have to do nothing but stay in your workshop, connected to your many machines in order to ensure that everything is running optimally. By now, he came so often that you could confidently just run your business on his funds alone.

"It won't take that long this time-" you adjusted the magnifying glasses on your nose, tapping the edge to zoom in a bit more, your steady hand placing the tiny pin inside it's hole "Luckily it was just a few pins that got out of their place. Other than that, your body seems to function pretty well."

He heard that little sigh of relief you sometimes did when checking his systems. It was a bitch and a half to fix them, and you were about the only mechanic not affiliated with the IPC that he could trust not to install some weird virus into his body.

" Well, what can I say, lady luck still riddin' shotgun with me I reckon. Can't say the same 'bout those jolly good fellows from the IPC." he let out a prideful scoff tipping his hat "I reckon their faces look better now with a few bullets between their teeth.

You shook your head, already used to his rants about the IPC and his hunt for revenge. Whilst you could appreciate his enthusiasm, you had yet to pry into the issue as to why. Despite all the days and hours spent with him, working on his body and listening to his rants, you had yet to be told the reason for all of this.

"As long as it is their face and not yours. After all, you're my number one customer~" you have him a wink, sticking your tongue at him playfully. Boothill nearly laughed, trying to say something smart back, but he was cut short by you suddenly slapping the revolver back in it's place, giving it a few spins before closing the paneling around it

"All seems to work well now Boots. Again, please stop slapping this thing into place like it owes you money. Your body may be made out of quality stuff, but it's not immune to your own idiocy."

"Hah, as if, that thing works better with a little tough love"

He didn't even have to look at you to feel the knives you were starring at him from behind your glasses.

"Besides, if I were to be careful, what excuses would I have to come pay ye a visit from time to time? Eh, sugar?"

You hated that shit eating smirk he had on his face sometimes. You just knew he enjoyed teasing and annoying you. It was part of your friendship at this point.

"One day your recklessness will be your death"

Standing up, you went to disconnect him from the machines he was hooked up, pulling out the cables from his back one by one.

"Aww, do I sense some worry in yer tone, darling? I'm flattered a-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as you tugged on his hat, pulling it over his face. Boothill couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine fine, I'll stop. Fudge me you can be tough to love sometimes. How much do I owe ya?" he asked, finally being able to stand up and adjust his hat.

"40k, do you want to put this on your tab again or just pay upfront"

"Just put it on my tab darling, I'll pay it once I'm back from this assignment"

You sighed. He always picked that option, but he always paid eventually, so you weren't too worried. What worried you us where the money came from sometimes. But what can you do, money is money after all.

"Fine, I'll see you next time Boots. And hey, bring me something nice from your travels, I might give you a discount too"

"What do I look like? A magpie?" he scoffed.

"You look more like a shark, but sure. Anyway, counting on you, Boots"

You gave him a friendly pat on the back, the cowboy tipping his hat to you before leaving, making you wonder sometimes in what part of the galaxy he's going to end up to next time every time he left your workshop.

[tofuxtea]

𝟏:𝟏𝟗 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — jack delroy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — nsfw, p in v sex, reader helps jack ‘relax’, slight coercion/convincing, unprotected sex, on a counter/table ? LMAO, rough sex lowk, cant think of any other tags, except its not proofread!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — this takes place right before the halloween special lol, def might be ooc jack but idgaf!! this took me two days to write i lowkey forgot how to write smut ?? discovered i was a lesbian and forgot how het sex worked my bad yall! anyways enjoy cuz i have yet to see a fic about this man.

the studio was buzzing with excitement when you arrived. crew members blew by you from every direction, barking orders and carrying pieces of halloween decorations that would be strewn around the night owls’ set within the next hour. tonight was the halloween special that was expected to bring jack’s show to the top, and he’d said he wanted you there to see it.

you’d only been there a couple of times — jack advising against you visiting him too often in case people started suspecting things about your relationship.

it was his first since madeleine had passed a year ago, and he wasn’t quite ready to go public yet. especially if it meant it would hurt any chances of the show not beating johnny carson’s tonight show.

afterwards would be your time, he promised you.

you hugged your coat closer to your body as you tried to navigate the set yourself, skimming over the panels beside every door until a familiar face came into view. you sighed, instinctively grinning when you spotted leo fiske, the show’s producer.

his stress-lined face shifted the moment he saw you, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. “how are ya, sweetheart?”

behind his sunglasses, he looked you up and down and hummed softly. you flashed him a tight grin and pulled your coat shut. he was charming, sure, but sometimes he was more direct than you liked. something told you that he knew about you and jack, and probably threatened the latter with it, but if he did he hid it well.

“i’m alright,” you kept the atmosphere light with a laugh, “where’s jack?”

the mention of his name made the man roll his eyes and scoff. “jackass has been locked up in his dressing room for the past half hour.” you pouted, realizing how much pressure he must be feeling. “end of the hallway to the right. i’ll slide you a fifty if you can untwist his panties, alright?” leo joked, gently patting your shoulder before brushing past you. you watched him go for a second, watching him beckon a female crew member over for something.

you hurried down the hallway to the door leo had directed you to, relieved when you saw jack’s name next to the door. knocking gently, you waited for him to call you in. “jack?” you called out when he didn’t reply.

boldly, you cracked open the door and stuck your head inside, finding jack sitting at his makeup vanity while an artist stood poised at his side, patting powder onto his forehead.

she startled when she heard your entrance, and flashed you a curt smile before returning to jack. he noticed you only when the woman had paused for too long and gestured you inside.

“give us a moment, will you?” he murmured to the makeup artist, who nodded and left the room.

you waited until the door was shut and her footsteps had gone quiet before sliding your arms around jack’s shoulders from behind. “how’re things going?” you asked with a coy grin, pecking him on the cheek.

he groaned when he saw a faint mark from your lipstick and realized he’d have to get another touch up later. “as great as they could be.” he replied rather bitterly, making your smile falter slightly. you gave him a curious look in the mirror, and that was his breaking point. his head lulled into his palm, paying no mind to how his fingers ruffled his gelled hair. “i swear to god, fiske thinks i can’t fuckin’ do it. he doesn’t think i can pull it off tonight.”

you hovered beside him for a second, unsure of how to console him. “what do you mean? tonight’s been all the talk for a week now, it’s gonna do great, baby.” you tried to reassure him, gently shaking him by his shoulders in his seat.

this seemed to ease his nerves just a little and he sighed, sliding a hand up to grab your hand. he found your eyes in the mirror and smiled for the first time that night, then looked down at your outfit.

you’d picked his favorite red dress, pairing it with the little devil-horn headband tucked away in your purse. it was shorter than you liked it to be, often having to tug the glittery fabric back down the curve of your hips, but jack loved when you wore it. tonight was a special occasion, so you figured he’d appreciate it.

“i just don’t know what i’m gonna do. what if he’s right?” jack continued to ramble. “you know, he keeps tellin’ me christou’s gig isn’t gonna gain enough traction to get us up. gus was tellin’ me that he’s called an act in last minute and he hasn’t run it by me yet — i swear to god, if it’s that jackass carmichael—” he huffed and stopped when he realized he was getting too worked up.

he hadn’t realized you had peeled yourself off of him and was tossing your coat onto the couch beside him. “hand me a smoke, won’t ya sweetheart?” he pointed loosely to your purse, knowing you were carrying some.

you two smoked the same brand, so he often stole yours. you didn’t mind.

you handed him a cigarette and he leaned in for a light. he sunk back into his chair as he blew out a puff of smoke, the tension steadily chipping away.

“baby, you need to relax, alright?” you cooed softly, stealing a quick drag of his cigarette. “you’re gonna do great. you always do.” your lithe fingers gently rubbed at his shoulders, smiling as his eyes fluttered shut and he melted under your hands.

“c’mere.” he grabbed your wrist and tugged you around his chair, steadying you with his hands on your hips before him. his eyes raked down your body and he sucked in a sharp breath. “relax, huh?” jack’s voice was low now, deeper. it made your breath hitch in your throat.

“jack, i…” your eyes flickered over to the unlocked door and you took a step back. your ass bumped into the edge of his vanity. a startled cry escaped you. “you’re on soon.” you whispered with an uneasy grin. although, he wasn’t live for another hour or so.

as much as your stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes, you feared the embarrassment if someone were to walk in on you two. especially if you weren’t public yet.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” jack groaned, chasing you out of his seat. his hands caged you in against the vanity, one reaching out to smash his cigarette out into the ashtray beside you, and his body pushed against yours. he practically forced you on top of the counter, a few bottles and trinkets toppling over in your little scramble. jack took the chance to nudge his knee in between your legs, humming with satisfaction at the small whine you tried and failed to keep inside.

you ducked your head shyly, but he moved with you, coaxing you into looking up. when he had you, he could tell there was no going back. your lips parted as you glanced down at his.

“that’s it.” he whispered with a gentle smirk before he kissed you. you sighed into it, feeling his urgency as his tongue slipped past your teeth. your fingers wrapped tightly around his biceps, your legs threatening to give out underneath you.

they instinctively parted when you felt the tip of jack’s finger trail up the top of your thigh. your skin dimpled with goosebumps and you shivered. he had such a feathery touch until he reached the hem of your dress, stealing a quick glance at how it bunched up at the fat of your hips and revealed your red panties.

then his hand dipped in between your thighs, his fingers prodding at your clothed cunt. you whined, a little too loudly, and jack flashed you a warning look.

“can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” he whispered. you hardly had the mind to nod, let alone comprehend what he was saying. your mind was fucking spinning trying to get a grip, and it didn’t help that jack’s middle finger was lazily circling your clit over your panties. “what’s that?” he taunted, chin lowering with expectancy.

“mhm, yes, yes i can,” you eagerly nodded, words stringing together in a barely coherent murmur.

“good girl.” jack groaned. he slipped his hand into the waistband of your panties, a smirk dancing on his lips when he felt how wet you were. “you wanted this, huh?”

you hadn’t entirely realized that he was talking to you, too busy working your hips against his heavy fingers. your body felt like it was on fire. you desperately pleaded for him to hurry up, for both of your sakes.

he looked down at your clumsy fingers as they tried to unbuckle his belt, but it was like it was welded around his waist. frenzied whimpers filled the room until jack finally helped you, almost taking pity on your incoherency. while he worked at the zipper on his trousers, you quickly slid your panties down your hips and around at least one foot. the thin lace dangled from the toe of your heel when jack captured you in another fervent kiss.

you feel the tip of his cock catch just below your clit and your breath caught in your throat. one of his hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you to the very edge of the counter. your legs widened for him, waiting.

he granted you relief, easing himself into your tight cunt. he groaned into your neck, stilling so he didn’t cum on the spot. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” his voice shook.

he went until his hips were flush with yours, watching how your face contorted with pure ecstasy. your lips parted in a high cry and your eyes squeezed shut, and your head lulled back. jack stole the opportunity to latch onto your neck, adorning your skin with kisses and licks. you pulled him closer with your arms around his neck.

“shit, jack,” your fingers raked through his hair, neither of you caring about how pissed hair and makeup were going to be with him. long, dark strands fell over his forehead and tickled your skin. “jack.”

he loved how his name sounded in your mouth. how he always managed to get you like this, though for some reason it was quicker than usual that your face flushed and your eyelids drooped with arousal. it stirs something deep in his stomach and he slams into you, setting an unrelenting pace. he didn’t care that it rocked the vanity mirror back into the wall with a hollow thud.

your thighs hug his waist and your ankles meet behind him, silently pleading for more. “greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he whispers with half a grin. he draws a strained cry from you with each deep thrust, your cunt clenching in fluttering pulses around him.

“fuck,” he hissed, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knows you wouldn’t either. your cries were growing louder and louder and more frequent. the mirror kept tapping against the wall and things kept rolling off of the counter and onto the floor. tears gathered in your eyes, painting your eyelashes each time your eyes squeezed shut. though each time you did, jack would remind you to look at him. he gently shushed you at first, then used his mouth when you weren’t listening.

your back arched into his chest as you came with a cry of his name, jack murmuring into your ear, “good girl, that’s it.” your body seemed to melt in his arms, going near slack as you came down from the high he was fucking you through.

it was only a few more thrusts until he came, barely managing to pull out before painting the insides of your thighs. he knew you would be pissed that it got on your dress once you realized, but he didn’t care.

after a minute of blissful silence, jack checked his watch. “shit, fiske’s probably lookin’ for me.” he rolled his eyes as he buckled his belt, praying to god that his beige pants were relatively stain-free.

if push came to shove, he’d tell him that he spilled his drink in his lap. he gave you room to get to your feet, watching with quiet pride as your knees wobbled pretty noticeably.

you tugged your dress down your hips, absently searching for a tissue box. a smile crossed your lips when you looked up and you lifted yourself onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“knock ‘em dead, baby.”

lowkey surrounded this smut based on the “secret relationship” trope and the last line. lowkey ass and rushed but enjoy!

[cozzzynook]

Hiii cozzzyyyy

What do we think about Rodimus adopting a lil human in secret on the LL, but Drift discovers it and tells Ratchet? And all three o them just look blankly at the human (that doesn't understand what's going on ofc ofc)?

Thank uuu <3

Hi Bee,

Hear me out.

The human he brings aboard the lost light that doesn’t know whats going on is actually cyberronian and a baby.

The found them crying next to their offline creators and couldn’t just leave them there. He was going to tell police officials but when he picked the fresh bitty up and they stopped crying. Reaching out and gripping his chassis and digit whimpering for him, he just couldn’t bare to part with them.

Sooo he snuck them on board and let the ship take off.

Of course he told officials about the bitty’s creators and told Prowl in secret what he’d done and that he wasn’t giving the bitty up. Prowl can honestly say he’s never actually heard Rodimus sound threatening and he admired it before putting official documents in stating Rodimus was the sparklings caregiver now before sending them to him and hanging up.

Rodimus was entirely pleased with himself and more than happy to get started on bathing the dirty bitty that wasn’t old enough to have plating on their exposed protoform. He learned the bitty was a little mecha and so as he had them wrapped in a soft warmer against his chassis he had to figure out a name and get a bitty berth installed.

He wasn’t entirely out of his league here since he used to caretake for orphanages on Nyon. He knew what sparklings needed and their development. So he knew this was a fresh spark that wouldn’t be able to be away from him for a long time since the connection with his creators was severed so early in life.

Of course..in all his plannings he forgot to tell his crew and co captain…who just so happened to walk into his hab with Minimus and stare at the sparkling with open jaws and he immediately had to explain the situation.

“So you weren’t carrying this whole time and popped out a sparkling on a dangerous mission?”

“No I’m not an idiot!”

He looked extremely offended and felt it too which upset the sparkling almost pulling them from recharge if it weren’t for him calming them down.

“I got the paperwork and everything. I got attached…don’t look at me like that Mins! I’m not popping out a sparkling!”

The smug look on the mini turbo fox face plates and his co captains was pissing him off.

Just because he was a carrier mech did not mean he would go following his coding and pop out bitlets.

He was destined for greater things than being a broodmare! He said as much too.

“Rodimus its not meant like that. Carriers just-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he was genuinely upset but trying not to take it out on them since they didn’t do anything wrong. He was just sensitive about his coding and frame.

“I’d like some time off from being in public to get a better bond with them and get all the supplies I need. I’ll do all my paperwork here. I’ll keep my comm open as well.”

He ushered them out after letting Minimus hold his sparkling who began to fuss but didn’t cry.

“Lets get you some panel wraps and bottles annndd I’m gonna need to find you a crib…and a name.”

The bitty just kept sucking on their hand and he was off to find such things in the storage rooms while the dead shift was at its quietest time.

He managed to luck out on getting multiple blankets and an abundance of reusable panel wrappers. He’d brought those things back to his hab and set them on a gentle wash in his cleaning closet before heading back out to find a crib and clothes and some bottles.

He was yet again lucky in his search. Finding bottles, clothes and even a few pacifiers along with a stuffed fox that looked suspiciously like Minimus handy work made him smile. He’d have to thank his friend for leaving this here for him.

He was bummed he couldn’t find a crib but he had everything else he needed and he decided to enjoy the win. He’d gotten everything clean and settled when the bitty began to fuss and he knew immediately what time it was.

“I’m gonna fix a bottle. I know, I know. You’re hungry its okay,” he soothed to the upset sparkling.

He felt his chassis growing tight and he groaned looking down at the shifted plating to the still unfinished diluted energon meant for sparklings. He wasn’t about to make his sparkling wait an hour for fuel that wouldn’t be half as good as what his frame decided to make against his wishes.

So with a final groan and a hope for his luck to continue and his sparkling not getting attached to this form of feeding, he unclasped his chassis and let his breast mesh free. They were already filling with milk and he grimaced at how natural it all felt.

He didn’t like being a carrier but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of feeding his sparkling.

With that line running through his mind, he held his sparkling up to his nozzle and allowed them to turn their helm crying until eventually they smelled him and the energon his frame was building before opening teary optics and latching on.

The first few suckles felt weird but eventually he felt the milk begin to release and his sparkling was greedily suckling blinking the tears from their optics.

Rodimus didn’t want to admit how close and connected he felt to the fresh bitty letting them drink from him.

He’d always had a problem with being a carrier and few mechs knew that he was and all that did knew by accident. It was something he liked pretending he wasn’t but that was extremely hard to do when a bitty was nursing from his mesh.

He sighed and looked to the bottles on the drying rack and figured he might as well try organizing his hab and bitty proofing it.

By the time he was done, the bitty was finished nursing and he was burping them. They’d fallen to recharge immediately and he smiled looking down at them. They were tiny, even for a new sparkling they were tiny. He was going to comm First aid to come to his hab in the morning so he could get them fully examined.

Carrier instincts would’ve alerted him if something was wrong with a sparkling even if they weren’t his own. But he wanted to be completely sure.

He laid the sparkling on his lap and began squeezing the rest of his milk into a bottle.

He’d have to find a crib and milk pump the next time he went to the storage rooms.

He stood and held the sparkling to his breast mesh that was still too tender to close his chassis over. He really hoped his bitty would take a bottle and not his nozzles and that his milk could be turned off when he called First aid.

He laid in his berth, nest fresh courtesy of Ratchet and Drift who were on took an extra, with a servo on the bitty thinking of possible names when he felt his optics almost slip closed until panic gripped him.

“Frag I didn’t tell them I adopted a bitty…”

Recharge was not exactly restful due to his nerves and waking a few hours later to the bitty whimpering wanting milk was something that stole his attention from Drift and Ratchets reactions.

He’d tried getting the bitty to take the sparkling fuel he’d put on earlier but the bitty hollered energon murder and he sighed lowering his helmet trying to suppress tears.

He’d lowered them to his nozzle and they immediately gripped on. He looked to the warm energon bottle and picked it up slipping it into the bitties mouth only for them to spit it out and spit up the milk.

It took over ten minutes to calm them down before deciding never to do that again and just accept he would have to feed from his nozzles.

The bitty gave a little glare at him with blue optics that looked so much like Drift and Ratchets when he did something to endanger himself he smiled a little making the bitty giggle.

It was spark warming and asserted that he made the right decision in keeping them.

“Your gonna be trouble aren’t ya lil mecha,” he cooed, cleaning himself and the bitty while allowing them to drink. He’d put the sparkling energon by the door and thought of how he was going to tell Drift and Ratchet.

He went through the motions of burping the bitty and soothing them to sleep before starting on paperwork. By the time he finished he leaned back in his chair and looked down at his breast mesh and the bitty sleeping on them.

He maneuvered the bitty and tried to put his breasts back into his chassis only to wince and hiss in pain.

‘That won’t work. Damnit. I’ll have to get a new chassis supporter.’

He looked down at the bitty and couldn’t find it in himself to blame them or really be upset. He was still pushing off the mental breakdown at succumbing to his carrier protocols. But looking down at the bitty he found it a tad easier.

Things didn’t feel so bad…until he heard the hab door open.

He stiffened in his seat and slowly turned his helm to see Drift and Ratchet staring at him and their hab.

He tried to smile but it came off wobbly and afraid and the sparkling made a whimpering noise that pulled his attention.

He shushed them gently with a small bounce and they nuzzled into him.

He looked back up to see the spot by the door empty with Drift and Ratchet right in front of Rodimus staring shocked at the fresh bitty in his arms recharging on swollen exposed breast mesh.

“Hehe. Surprise? Funny story here.”

“Roddy were you sparked and didn’t know it?! Did you emerge our sparkling on a mission?!”

Drift was seething with a myraid of emotions but not one was anger. He was thankfully whispering as he did so and was visibly checking him over before getting closer only to stop so Ratchet could begin scanning the sparkling and Rodimus.

“No I wasn’t sparked! And no I didn’t emerge a bitty! They don’t even look like us!”

He whispered venomously before pausing. They all stopped for a moment before Rodimus apologized.

“I’m not getting sparked. Ever,” he spoke, looking them in the optic before motioning for Ratchet to keep working.

The mech gave him a look he didn’t want to see so he turned his helm and let Ratchet work.

“The sparkling is fine,” he stood, looking at the fresh sparkling still sleeping on Rodimus who had an arm covering his nozzles.

He refused to move it because he didn’t want them seeing.

He knew they knew. They had since before they got together. He’d blown up almost saying some really nasty things when they revealed to him they knew by his scent, nest, clingy behavior he thought he shut down and the way he’d act around sparklings. Of course having this revealed made him all but destroy his carrying instincts and reject anything remotely like it.

It hurt. Physically and mentally to do so but he did it anyway and rejected any advice on not doing it. Of course he took it a step further and took preventative pills that kept him from going into heat and added an extra spark baffle. He really hated being a carrier and how it made him look to other mechs and femmes. He was not weak. He was not some birthing machine and he was not going to degrade himself by popping out sparklings and prove them all right. He was more than a carrier mech. He was a living being. He wouldn’t succumb to code.

Of course doing all this and having no heat put him in danger and made him sick but he truly would rather get sick than suffer another heat and possibly get sparked.

It took passing out after throwing up energon for his own medical right to be snatched away. He was taken off heat suppressants and his spark baffles were removed leaving him with just one.

He’d rode out his heat painfully by himself and left the medical center before they could try talking him into something he didn’t want. He ignored his teammates outside of battle planning for a long time. He ignored Ratchet and Drift, at the time Deadlock, for even longer since they just didn’t get it.

As much as he butted helms with Optimus the mech understood but still didn’t want him endangering his life. The only medic he really trusted was First Aid who admitted he didn’t understand but tried to give him the best option instead of getting snippy with him or pushing carrier scrap at him.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels Ratchet put a servo on his breast mesh and feel around it. He knows he isn’t being a perv but he still hates it. He’d never exposed his breast mesh to them before and hadn’t ever planned to.

“Well?”

He was getting more impatient and uncomfortable by the moment and Ratchet gave him a look that he returned with the beginnings of a snarl that he restrained.

“Milk won’t stop till the kid doesn’t need it anymore. You’ll need a new chassis plating. I’ll get to working on one-”

“I’ll have First aid make me one. Its fine. You both should rest. I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

He was standing before either could get a word in. Was it fair? Not at all. But he really didn’t want this conversation nor the carrier slag they’d throw his way.

“Kid, get back here. This is a conversation we’re having now.”

He glared but didn’t go any further.

“I didn’t purposely attach the sparkling. It just..happened. I saw them crying near their creators when I went down to the lab. They were already gone and gray.”

“I wasn’t even thinking when I took them and decided to keep them. I’m sorry I didn’t ask first or tell you. You don’t have to care for them, I can do that on my own.”

He’d done it with sparklings at the centers and they’d recovered until they found a proper home during the war. So he knew he could.

“I’m not asking either of you to do anything and if they are a crying sparkling I’m going back to my hab.”

“Rodimus!”

Drift had yelled his name a little too loud to stop him from spiraling and putting distance between them. The mech was holding his arms on both sides and he wasn’t aware he’d been venting hard.

“Stop,” Drift vented hard, looking at him with his finials back and fangs poking out.

“You’re not going to your old hab. You’re staying here with us, where you belong,” Drift told him. “We’re not angry and we don’t blame you for getting attached. We just..”

“We’re surprised kid. Shocked really,” Ratchet came close and he felt crowded. The sparkling was picking up on his emotions and while that made him happy because it meant a bond was in place, he didn’t want them exposed to painful emotions or his cluster of feelings so he vented and bounced them. Keeping his gaze on the sparkling, trying not to notice how their gazes stuck to him and the longing in their optics, he started speaking again.

“I have the papers that say he’s mine already..Megs and Minimus know already because they came by unannounced.”

“Only yours?”

Ratchet was the one to ask and he felt bad that he didn’t think they’d want their names on the papers as well.

“I didn’t think you’d want your names on it. I didn’t think about anything other than your reactions honestly and I wasn’t fair in those thoughts either. I’m sorry.”

He owed it to them to at least get their frustrations out so he looked them in the optics expecting glares only to feel sadness and that was so much worst.

“Roddy…we aren’t..give us the papers.”

He went over to his desk and situated the sparkling while covering his nozzles and pulled the papers out handing them over.

They both signed it.

And he was both relieved and guilt ridden.

Both wanted a sparkling and were even partners with a mech who could carry by tank and yet…

“Why isn’t his name on here?”

“I couldn’t think of one…so I guess..as his sires, you can name him. If you want.”

They looked at him as if he’d revealed the secrets of Cybertron and he might as well have. Naming was a huge deal in their culture and for a carrier to completely allow the sires full handle of it meant a lot.

He looked down at the sparkling and stood beside them, “here, hold him.”

It was Ratchet who gently took the sparkling which made the bitty wake up looking confused. Their optics nor senses were actually developed but they could tell the difference between stranger, carrier and sire. They could smell that he was near but couldn’t feel him. And yet the sparkling didn’t cry which was a good sign. They did sneeze and Ratchet melted at the sight with Drift not far behind and he hadn’t even held the bitty yet.

It made Rodimus smile but the guilt ate away at him.

Truth be told, he really did want sparklings, but he hated the stereotypes, prejudice and weakness being a carrier brought on. He never wanted to be weak or seen as weak and he hated how he would be viewed if he were to get sparked. So he denied and rejected it and in the process, he denied himself and his partners something they all wanted. Its one of the reasons he wasn’t conjunxed with them while the two were. It was usually a guarantee a carrier would get sparked once they conjunxed. His fears greatly outweighed the speak of what if he still felt.

He was also certain they would one day tire of him and leave when they realized they could do better.

‘I sprung a bitty on them that isn’t even ours by emergence and they still want me,’ he let a few tears fall silently. ‘I’ve been unfair to them…’

He watched as Ratchet gave the bitty to Drift and how the mech melted completely with tears in his optics. Their bitty still didn’t cry which was also a very good sign he felt a connection to the two. He quietly bent down and grabbed a blanket to cover his exposed nozzles. He should let Ratchet make him a new chassis cover.

The feelings were overwhelming and he felt less of a warrior and solider and more the code he tried to reject for millions of years.

He..hated the vulnerability still and tried to quietly shift into the other room for a moment to gather himself but the two held him on both sides of his arms.

“What? Is he hungry?”

He didn’t want to make optic contact and tried to play off his sniffle until Ratchet pulled him in. He tried to move back but neither mechs allowed it.

“Kid..for once..don’t fight it..it doesn’t make you any less and it’s not a bad thing. Just for now..let it out..don’t reject it. Don’t reject us.”

The dam burst and he was sobbing with his intake covered by his servos to keep from being too loud. He kept his face plates hidden and felt Drift hug his back with their sparkling secure in his hold. Their arms tightened around him. He felt all the things he never allowed himself.

Safe. Vulnerable. Secure. Open. Tender. Exposed and held together as he mended himself whole with their comfort.

It felt as good as it hurt and by the end of his tears he felt raw and their nest had never felt so good to slip inside. He felt Drift and Ratchet pressed on both sides of him after giving him their sparkling when he whined for him.

Their sparkling nuzzled into him and made cooing noises, trying to fight their sleep but Drift wouldn’t let them. His humming was infectious and it was hard for him to stay awake but the plating that remained on his upper frame left him so uncomfortable. He knew what that meant but he wasn’t sure he could handle accepting it.

“It’s okay, Roddy,” Drift whispered in his audial, slowly taking the locks off his tank and back strut plating with Rstchets help. He felt pure relief at the metal being removed allowing his belly and wide hips room to breathe.

Accepting the sparkling as his own, his frame producing milk and allowing his emotions freedom in the presence of his partners triggered his body to go into a pseudo heat that was brought on from denying his code all these years.

“Let us take care of you,” Ratchet kissed along his neck cables, servos rubbing the chub along his belly, sending butterflies bursting within him at the love and comfort freely given.

Drift rubbed his palms along his hips and bit into his neck, hands making their way up to his sensitive breasts where he tensed and Ratchet cooed at him, reassuring him as he too cupped Rodimus breast. Both slipping the blanket free and wrapping the sparkling inside it.

The bitty inhaled the pheromones in the air and began to fall into recharge. What smelled of heat to adult mechs smelled of sleep pheromones to sparklings.

They placed the bitty on the edge of the nest yet still within close servo and optic contact.

Laid out bare for them to see, Rodimus tried to cover his nozzles but the two stopped him. Both Drift and Ratchet pressed a kiss to his nozzles before licking the dark milk duct and kissing the tender mesh again.

They enjoyed the way they bounced heavily and how his belly followed suit.

“You make an amazing person and carrier, sweet spark,” it was Ratchet who always spoke sweet words while taking them apart in berth. The medic popped his panels open and let his spike free, Drift followed pressing kisses to Rodimus’s belly, servo rubbing the chub as he worshipped it with kisses making Rodimus array snap open and lock.

Drift placed a kiss on his soaking valve before moving to let Ratchet do the same.

“You’ll look even more beautiful growing, swelling full with our sparkling. You already look so beautiful caring for our first one,” Drift soothed into his audial. They both were lining up to meet at the entrance of his valve, both their spike heads bobbing together before slowly slipping inside.

They all groaned together in unison until Drift and Ratchet nipped at his nozzles pulling them. Their servos resting interlocked over his belly as they rubbed the soft flesh stimulating his nerves. Bobbing their throats to a wave beat as they drank from him while fully sheathing their spikes deep inside him.

They left him a silent screaming, back arched mess that could do nothing more than cry and whisper his begging for their soft loving touches that left him exposed emotionally and a soaking, valve squelching mess that tried to cycle and lock down on their raw spikes that were struggling to keep from bursting inside him.

He felt their grip on his belly tighten and they rubbed his flesh as if he were already accepting their loads for a new spark when he felt their chassis open and his spark thrum to life.

Three different hues of blue made the dark room glow. Spike and valve bio lights pulsed and grew vibrant while Drift and Ratchet lifted themselves to hover and look down at Rodimus who looked up at them.

“We aren’t letting you go, Roddy. Not now, not if we never got to conjunx and spark you,” he leaned down, kissing the sobbing mech who gazed up at him before Ratchet leaned down capturing plump lips that quivered at his bite. “But now that we have, no more running and hiding from us. We love you Rodimus and we know you love us too.”

Rodimus sobbed even harder.

Feeling their sparks glow and leave their chambers to meet between them and merge making them all conjunx and completing the connection.

They overloaded together, squeezing each other, Rodimus’s valve clamping down on their spikes that buried within his soft tank lining spilling into him. Their sparks dancing getting lost in each other until none could be distinguished and they all held a large piece of each other once their sparks returned to them.

Rodimus was enternally grateful to have Drift and Ratchets servos in his belly as he felt the flesh stretch and grow heavy at all the transfluid that sloshed and flowed inside him. He felt his valve and cheeks grow hot all over again and he moaned, rocking into them.

“Please,” he cried, feeling them rub his distended belly full of transfluid, valve throbbing hot as his tank wanted more. “Please,” he begged again, seeing the two smirk.

“We’ll give you everything you want and need, sweet spark,” his medic promised.

“We just hope you don’t mind carrying two or three by the time we’re done with you.”

“Although, it’d be nice to see you so round and full of three while feeding our first,” Ratchet chuckled.

“Maybe we aim for three next time?” Drift kissed along Rodimus’s face, nuzzling into his olfactory sensor when the mech needed the reassurance and care.

“We can discuss that later. For now,” Ratchet pulled Rodimus close, washing his em field over the mech who needed their affection they were more than happy to give, “lets focus on mending him. He needs our love first, we can think on that later.”

With a nod from Drift and a quick check on their sleeping sparkling, they made love to their conjunx.

-

My mind…went elsewhere..anyway if anyone wants to tip me the link to my kofi is on my pinned post.

[aluhnim]

Hello!! When you start a comic, how do you go about deciding your panelling layouts?? If this is too big of an ask for covid brain, how about your favorite song of the moment / a song that really inspires you?? I hope you feel better soon!

I was searching around for an old write up I did for some Original Character Tournament folks who were interested in my thoughts on panels and layouts. To try and answer your question, I go off of vibe now that I’ve made a LOT of comics. However, as much as it doesn’t seem like it at times, I do typically stay as “conventional” as possible to make sure my readers are still following the plot. I make a lot of adjustments along the way. Smarter layouts allow me to draw less, and drawing less is better for me in the long run! It’ll allow me to put more time in other places of the comic.

Anyway, here’s my write up back in the day that’ll hopefully answer some comic drafting questions!

More conventional paneling is a necessary stepping stone because you know your reader won’t get lost and the structure will have you more focused on flow and pacing. It seems remarkably easy to do comics with more “static” or traditional panel layouts but they work for a reason. There’s no real need to break out of something that works, unless you want to! Breaking out of the structure can really add some OOMPH to your important pages.

Some tips, note that these have been my preferences and some definitions don’t quite match their descriptors.

Bleed

I consider open panels or panels that stretch out beyond the edge of the page to be considered bleeds. They’re simple ways to make you feel like your not just sticking within your margins and making your page feel less static without much extra effort. Manga does this quite often, and Western American comics, especially during action packed moments or large splashes.

Some examples of things bleeds can do:

- They can also be used as transitions between pages (first panel bleeding in, last panel bleeding out).

- They can be used to interrupt or add a beat to a moment. Although the example below is mostly bleeds, you can see the one full panel at the bottom stands out because it’s not like the others. A subtle beat.

- They can also just be used to extend a panel to make it bigger. That seems obvious, but larger panels do make people spend a bit more time on them, regardless if there is text or not. Though, “more time” means probably several milliseconds or even a few seconds more than usual.

- Collaging with a bleed is a really great way to think beyond panels and open the space. You will be spending more time thinking of how much you can cram in along with the flow of how your text is going to lead through a series of images.

- Removing panel borders can really open a space and allow for more room without having to go above and beyond the ideas of comics and panels. (sorry, gale galligan is just good)

Gutters

The space between panels is almost just as important as the panel itself. That’s where readers and inferring actions and time. You can only control so much of what the reader is doing between their eye shifting between panels, which is why composition within panels and clarity are so important.

Gutters can also be played with! A simple example is changing your gutters from white to all black. It can be a subtle shift in time, a transition to a new space.

Even the amount of space between panels leaves an idea of time! I think webtoons/manhwa really work well with the gutter space, leaving you to physically scroll and feel the effects of time passing with the amount of empty space you encounter.

It’s important to understand that the gutter has a lot more to do with reader imagination, and your goal is to have them understand that the next panel is somehow plausible.

THIS SCENE EMFIELDS DID IS VERY FUCKING GOOD. TIME, SPACE, GO OOOOOOFFFF KING

Panels themselves can be a part story!

This one is a difficult thing to write for, since I feel like there isn’t many examples out there. There are very structural examples of panels out there, like Watchman. While the 9 panel grid was intentional, it also was likely the only way to deal with Alan Moore’s script effectively without missing details. The panels themselves don’t ENHANCE the story, but a means to an end.

But it’s also an incredibly good example of how conventional comics paneling can still be effective, especially when you start breaking that mold just a little bit.

But then you have comics like M. Dean’s “Baby fat”. Where the comic paneling itself never strays from its original structure, but is indicative of the story itself, representing tiles, mirrors, patterns.

Or Robert Hunter’s “The New Ghost” which he uses circular motifs and has circular panels representing the telescopes sight line.

Predicting Reader Navigation

These are my rules of thumb when doing general sight reading panel by panel.

1. Text is what people gravitate to first. It’s the context needed to approach the next panel.

2. Faces are next, this provides context to what the subject is feeling.

3. Familiar people/animals/objects and SFX.

4. Everything else!

This is an example of sight reading notes I gave to my friend Holocene when we were collaborating.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Get Well Soon

Poe Dameron X GN!Reader

Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Rating: T

Warnings: TYPOS, SWEARING, mentions of feeling sick, fluff, hurt/comfort, unwell reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

A/N: for the ask here. This is the Poe version. Sorry this has taken so long. I am having some not great times with my mental illnesses at the moment.

Word Count: 623

You stared at the control panel, trying your best to actually see it, despite the aura of lights that were disrupting your vision. 

It had been a stupid idea to try to keep working, to push through the pain in your head and nausea in your stomach. The obvious warning signs of sickness. 

And now here you were, on the far side of the base that was still practically abandoned until the repairs were completed. 

You groaned and slowly sat down on the ground. If you just took a few minutes, you’d be fine. You’d be better. You’d have enough strength to get to your bunk without passing out. 

The cold wall was soothing against your back and you closed your eyes for a second, trying to fight off the wave of nausea. 

After a few deep breaths you ended up completely on the floor, curled into the foetal position, clutching your legs, and willing the sickness to dissipate. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point because you didn’t hear him come in or call your name. Anxiety adding an edge to his words. 

But you did feel his cool hand press against your forehead and the sharp hiss as he took a breath. 

“Baby, you’re burning up.” The pet name slipped passed his lips before he could catch himself. He bit down on his tongue, as if he could take the word back, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed.

“Poe?” Your voice was low as you cracked open your eyes. The strong sunlight from earlier had weakened dramatically. How long had you been here? 

Concern was etched into his handsome features. 

“I’m here.” He whispered; brow furrowed. “Been looking for you.”

You hummed an answer, your mind taking a minute to catch up with his words. 

He moved his hand from your forehead, tracing his fingertips down your face and along your jaw. You lent into his touch, unable to stop the instinctive need to be close to him. 

Finally his words from before registered. And despite your sickness, a giddy high flooded your veins. “You’ve been looking for me?” 

He nodded. “You’ve been gone for a while.” 

“Sorry.”

That made him smile softly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” He swallowed. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty.” 

He nodded again. 

The urge to close your eyes was so strong, overpowering almost to the point of pain. You’d close them for a little while, just a little while.

Poe, noticing your ongoing battle to stay awake, shifted in his crouched position. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

You gave him a weak smile, but kept your eyes closed. “I don’t think I can walk.”

He tutted good naturedly, “who said anything about you walking?” Carefully he took you into his arms, moving slowly so that he wouldn’t shake your head. 

“Poe,” you tried to protest, your voice weak. “You can’t carry me all the way.”

“Yes I can.” He said so matter of factly as he stood as smoothly as he could, trying to cause you minimal disruption.

“I’ll throw up on you.” He was so warm, comforting. A different heat from the burning of your fever. He felt safe. He felt like home.

“Okay.” 

“Poe-”

“I don’t mind.” He whispered, cradling you as he began to walk.

“Poe-”

“I really don’t mind.” 

You frown but conceded your defeat. “Drop me if I get too heavy.”

“I will not.” There was an almost childlike humour in his voice.

“Or if I start to throw up.”

“Nope.”

“Poe-”

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, and with kindness. “Try to go back to sleep.”

You pulled a face but didn’t say anything as the sound of his beating heart lulled you to sleep. 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor

[house-of-kolchek]

Dress (Part Two)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

OK I KNOW ITS BEEN A HOT MINUTE SINCE PART ONE BUT I LITERALLY REWROTE THIS THREE TIMES I APOLOGIZE

Also I love you all.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part One (18+)

Ok this is slightly (significantly) more drama than I was initially planning so. Enjoy my tears.

You didn’t get your dress dry cleaned. 

In fact, for a long time it remained in that pile, pooling at the foot of your bed. You were too afraid to call at first, your stomach churning with guilt, rejection and most of all, shame. And finally, two weeks later when you did try to call, the phone didn’t make it three rings before it was sent to voicemail.

So, with growing resentment in your eyes, you turned your phone off completely.

But still, as you stopped seeing him at work, that nagging itch in the back of your mind convinced you to ask around - even begging Hunnigan to assure you that yes, he was still alive in the least.

With that knowledge, you resigned to staring at the dress on your floor. The rumples in your sheets from your unmade bed - having not properly made it since that night. You felt like you were going crazy, biting at your nails and asking question after question to yourself in the silence.

Was he more drunk than you thought?

Did he think it was something else?

Did he regret it - did you ruin something over a one night stand?

The six week mark came and went. You’d finally picked up your dress a week prior, dumping it into a bag for donation, or just garbage, you weren’t quite sure. At this point, that stain was probably cemented into the fabric. You’d gone through a deep cleanse of your room, your apartment, anything to push away the plaguing memories of that night. If Leon wasn’t going to get back in contact with you, you would just have to move on.

Which was, of course, easier said than done. 

“Raven two- are you still with me?” The voice in your ear snapped. You cursed, glancing back at the smooth wall in front of you. The questions in your head were starting to follow you everywhere - even into work. You couldn’t help but wonder if you should have been working in the state you were in, but who would accept “My best friend and I slept together and then he disappeared” as an even remotely valid excuse?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for intel,” you muttered into the piece, picking at your nails, and the bits of dirt catching underneath them. The hallway behind you was long, leading to a sealed door. “There’s a door here that’s locked with a biometric scanner. The name matches our guy though.” You continued to study the panel, lightly running your fingers along the seams until - bingo.

With the edge of your knife, you pried against the gap in the panel, until the screen flew off, falling to the floor with a crack. Within a second, the lights had dimmed, a faint echo of an alarm bleating across invisible speakers. You cursed under your breath, taking a moment to analyze the collection of wires and motherboard looking things beneath the panel. 

What the fuck did any of them even mean.

“Fuck it.” You grabbed a handful of wires, and in a final hail mary moment, yanked them all from the panel. The alarm grew to a shriek, though you caught sight of the door shifting, just enough to indicate that the lock had faltered. Honestly, you had no idea how that even worked. 

“What the hell is going on in there?” your earpiece rang again. Your operative sounded less than thrilled.

“Well, let’s just say the security in this place is weird,” you huffed, reaching to pry the door open enough to slide into the office. “I made it into Brown’s office though.”

“Good,” she sighed. “From what I can tell they’ve dispatched a team towards the office. You’ve likely got two minutes before you need to be out of there, so get the notes and go.”

You nodded to the empty room, your brows furrowing as the lights within the office continued to flash. A computer was still on, the login information filled in.

How convenient.

You raced over to the computer, snatching a random flash drive from the desk. Clicking the login button, you watched the foreboding circle on the screen as the information loaded, your heart soaring as the desktop flashed into view. Wasting no time, you hit the files tab, plugging in the USB and copying anything, everything that you saw. You filtered through the email tab, copying the most recent files onto the drive as well. 

And then, a chorus of voices caught your attention. 

As the drive process edged towards completion, you searched through the room again, your attention catching on a door on the opposite wall. Praying that it wasn’t a closet, you ejected the drive, your arms flailing to grab at a pile of file folders, each labelled with three lettered initials. Hopefully they were important; you didn’t have the time to care. 

In a haste, you wrenched the door open, and-

“Fuck me.”

It was a closet.

“Harper,” you hissed into your piece, pushing forward between the hanging jackets and a mop handle. “I’m a little stuck in place right now, and I would really appreciate any backup.”

“Where are you?”

“In a broom closet. In Brown’s office.”

You heard a frustrated curse. A chorus of frantic typing on a keyboard before Harper’s voice was back in your ear.

“Okay, hang tight. Kennedy’s on his way.”

Wait.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, wondering why the world had decided to curse you further in this clusterfuck of a mission. “How far out?”

“Five minutes. He was already on his way to the building.”

???????

You let out a whispered acknowledgment, falling silent as the first voice burst through the room. And then another, and another, until you were counting five low voices, assigning each other different areas to scout.

There was no way you could hide in here. Your free hand fell to the knife at your waist, shifting to the holstered gun along your thigh, and then back to the knife. It was safer. 

Better for close combat.

As Harper’s voice echoed “three minutes” into your ear, you heard a shuffle of footsteps halt directly in front of you. You held your breath, unsheathing your knife and loosening your knees into a short crouch.

The door flew open, and you lunged.

The first man let out a shout as you barrelled straight through him, sending him stumbling back off his feet. The four others - plus another surprise attendee - all whirled around to face you, their guns drawn. In a second, you ducked to the side, shuffling yourself behind the computer desk. You gave up on the file folders with a curse, throwing them over the desk towards your attackers.

In the distraction, you unholstered your gun, switching your knife to the other hand and crossing them together. Ducking your head over, you took a shot, hearing a pained cry. You shot again, creeping closer to the side of the desk. If you could sneak your way around and out the door, you could-

“He’s there.”

Another round of gunshots, ringing with that familiar weight, cut through the room. It felt quicker than three minutes, and you couldn’t help but peek your head over the desk.

Leon’s expression was stoic, his brows drawn into a line as he let loose another spray of gunfire. Two men fell to the ground, clutching at their legs. You took the opportunity to shoot out from your position, circling around towards the door. You took a few shots of your own, downing another two attackers as Leon’s arm reached out to force you behind him. 

You didn’t waste any time, grabbing his wrist and running from the room.

“Are you okay?” He huffed from beside you, having just barely caught up to your pace. You nodded, not trusting the words in your throat. His hair had gotten longer in the weeks, and there was a new hollowness just below his cheekbones. The sight of him sent a pang of emotion through you, and you chose to ignore it, keeping your expression blank as you raced towards the lab entrance.

Leon called your name as you escaped the building - surprisingly easily as no other security detail came after you. Your back flared, but your feet ignored the will of your mind, turning you to face the agent. With his long hair, wearing that familiar leather jacket and a pair of knitted brows. The sight of him, after those weeks of radio silence, of forcing you to question yourself over, and over again.

You weren’t relieved to see him. There was no spark of joy, no twinge of grief in your heart. You were angry.

“What the fuck do you want, Leon?”

He recoiled at the venom in your voice, his lips tightening further into a frown. You wanted to feel bad, to apologize and reach out for his hand, as you’d done in every argument before. But you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

Leon cleared his throat.

“You’re bleeding,” was the only thing he said, directing his gaze to your side. You glanced down, taking in the dark, damp spot against the navy fabric of your shirt. The pain in your side didn’t even flare up until you pressed a hand to the wound, a sharp breath hissing between your teeth. Leon stumbled forward a step, his arm stretching out, until you caught his gaze, and he faltered.

It was quiet for a moment, the dull throb in your side beginning to grow in intensity. Leon’s gaze fell to the side, his teeth catching his bottom lip. If you had to hazard a guess, he looked angry, but you couldn’t tell why. 

“Just get me out of here,” you breathed, after another moment of silence between you two.

—

You didn’t let Leon come with you into the infirmary, much to his vocal protest. You received a visit from Ingrid, her expression remaining mostly concerned, though her lips held a tight line, and some prodding got her to admit that the agent had mercilessly been pestering her regarding your wellbeing. 

Why now?

You remained steadfast, refusing to confront him and allow yourself to fall back into whatever spell had prompted this whole disaster in the first place. You wallowed, you caught yourself staring at his contact in your phone. You listened to the low, muffled timbre of his voice outside your room and fought the urge to call him in, face the time, the distance that’d been placed between you two. You forced a wall up, defensive and as strong as you could muster.

You kept that wall up for five days. And then Ingrid decided she’d had enough.

You were leaning against the bed, packing up your few personal items to take home when the door opened, signaling Ingrid’s arrival.

“Hey - do you think we could stop at a drive thru on the way? I swear to god I need an actual meal-”

You shut right up as Leon Kennedy stumbled into your room, looking like a feral cat as he shrugged Ingrid’s hands off his shoulders. Her gaze found yours, unrelenting as she gestured between the two of you.

“Change of plans. Leon’s driving you home. Figure out whatever the fuck is going on between you two or I swear to god I am leaving you to die on your next missions,” she hissed, slamming the door shut without another word.

You all but shriveled into ash, your throat tightening as the man that had plagued your mind for the past two months scowled at the wall. He rolled his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze slowly, sloooooowly found yours.

“What have you been doing here, Leon?” you finally sighed.

“You need to be more careful.”

You huffed. “Noted. As if you have any right to tell me that. I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?” 

“If I hadn't shown up, who knows what could have happened.”

“Leon-”

“You know, you’d most likely be dead!” His voice grew in pitch, his gaze growing harder as he took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Leon-”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that reckless,” he hissed. 

“Well, what the hell do you think caused that?” you shouted. Leon’s mouth finally snapped shut. His jaw clenched, his gaze falling away from yours.

“You can’t just disappear for six weeks and-” you cut off with a hissed curse, reaching for the sudden flare of pain in your side. Leon’s arm shot out, and against your better judgement, you stepped away from it, holding a hand out to stop him. You watched him wince.

“You can’t just do that to me and pretend everything’s fine, Leon,” you finished. He looked hurt, his hand coming up to cover his face under the facade of brushing a stray hair away from his eyes. And the silence between you grew for a long moment.

“I know,” he finally breathed, his voice clipping at the end of its sentence. When you spared him a glance, you noticed the tightness of his fists, his nails digging hard into his palm as his gaze remained unfocused against the floor. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, forcing the words out from your lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, and his gaze snapped back to yours in a moment. Before he could get a word out, you were talking again. “Did I take advantage of you? Because I swear, I thought you were fully coherent. Hell, I’ve seen you in a much worse state without any problems, but maybe I read into something and I forced your hand and-”

Leon’s hands found your shoulders, and you physically jerked out of your thoughts. You watched his face twist into something that looked like pain as his hands flew off of you with a muttered apology. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” he muttered. “I did everything wrong. I just…”

You waited. And he took a breath.

“Let’s get you home.”

You let his words balance on your tongue, your gaze slipping away from him. Your brain felt like mush, both relieved and disappointed. Overall, entirely unsure of what to think. So, with a silent nod, you let him slip your bag over his shoulder, his hand hovering over your shoulder as he led you out of the infirmary and to his car.

God, you’d missed his car.

The door shut behind you, and you immediately noticed your chapstick, still settled in the second cupholder between the seats. His bags were still strewn across the backseat, along with one of your old hoodies, the only neatly folded item on the seat. Leon flicked on the radio as he drove home, keeping the volume low enough that it almost blended with the noise of the car along the road.

You recognized the song, something you used to sing to your curtains at night. Something about a fancy dress, bought for a single person.

You reached across the dashboard to switch the radio station.

Throughout the drive, you made too much effort to sneak some glances at him. He looked tense, his grip on the wheel almost as tight as his jaw. He had that familiar knot in his brows that told you of the racing thoughts in his own head. And every once in a while, you’d catch him as he snapped his attention back to the road.

By the time you arrived at your home, you’d actually tired yourself out trying to analyze his thoughts. 

Leon parked the car, glancing towards your front door. Though it wasn’t dark, the moment felt familiar. The awkward silence, the silence that thickened the air. So, before it could get too reminiscent, you practically threw yourself out the car door. 

Leon was on his feet as you shut the door, looking over the roof of the car to meet your gaze. He’d already reached to grab your bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Can I help you bring this in?”

You fucking hated this distance between the two of you.

“Do you want to come in?”

Leon barely hesitated - only enough for his shoulders to relax - before he nodded, circling around the car to follow you into your home.

You shut the door, directing Leon to just drop your bag by the pile of stuff in the hall, before you trudged over to the couch, falling into the comfort of the cushions. He sat next to you, much closer than you would have expected. You spent a long moment staring into space, mustering up the words you needed to say before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Why did you disappear for two months? And then why did you show up? Why did I have to listen to you outside of my hospital room? Why did you leave in the first place?” 

As you asked them, your questions didn’t seem to stop, and Leon seemed to pick up on the increasing urgency in your voice as he caught your hand, rubbing a circle along your knuckles because he knew it would calm you down. You wanted to pull away from it, to keep that fiery wind in your sails before your resolve completely crumbled. Yet as you started to pull away, his grip tightened on your hand, a sharp breath sounding from his lips. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his own nose scrunching as he thought. “I thought I ruined something, that maybe I took advantage of you and ruined things.”

“So why not just talk about it?” you pressed. “I mean, we’ve seen each other through much worse.”

Leon was quiet. (I’m about to hit you with the cheesiest fucking line known to man)

“I mean, what could be worse than fucking that up and losing you?”

There was a strong wave of pure feeling that crashed through your chest. Something that felt like grief, like adoration. It felt like pain and bliss all tied up together in a bow. It was like you were teetering at the edge of a cliff and something in his words had just anchored at you. But at the same time, it felt like you were watching each other crumble apart next to each other. 

Without any warning, you burst into tears. 

Leon’s breath caught in his throat as you flew into him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and pulling him as close as possible. He was trembling, his own arms wrapping around your waist, as he buried his nose into your shoulder.

It was rare to see this kind of emotion from him. His voice was trembling, and his grip on your waist was tight enough that you wondered if he was scared to let go. Those walls you’d watched him carefully craft over the years crumbled right in front of you, and your heart couldn’t help but swell at the outpouring of those emotions he’d locked up for so long.

“Can you forgive me for running away?” he asked. Pleaded, really. His eyes grew wider in your silence. A part of you wanted to wash away the past weeks, draw him right back into your arms without another battle. The smaller, more bitter part of you wanted to keep arguing, to show him just how much he’d hurt you. 

But this was Leon. He was your closest friend…. And he was looking at you without any defense in his gaze. He held only sincerity, if not a little bit of fear as he waited. You’d been more honest with him than anyone else, and in a moment you simply knew with utmost confidence he would offer you the same. So you asked.

“What did that night mean to you?” you asked, fighting against the tightness in your chest for volume. As you pulled away to face him head on, his gaze softened. His lips twitching in the first smile you’d seen in months.

“You said you bought that dress for me,” he started, his gaze unwavering. “And I swear I saw heaven. I meant every word I said. And I want you. I want to be with you.”

The words were simple, but they made your heart soar. 

“You’re my person,” you muttered. “Always.”

And Leon let out a huge breath, his eyes falling shut and his shoulders sagging before he surged upwards to kiss you.

When he kissed you, it felt like he craved you, like he couldn’t live without the feeling of your lips against his. He held you tight, his fingers digging softly into your back. You let your own hands curl into his shirt, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to prod against the seam.

Leon broke away from you for barely a second before he kissed you again, soft and so tender that you felt like glass about to shatter. Your thumb brushed against his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tickle of his hair, simply reassuring yourself that he was actually there in front of you.

He pulled you close, closer than you could even have thought possible, his hands curling into your shirt. When he finally pulled away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone, his breath shook. Your shirt grew damp, and your arms tightened around him.

“Y’know how much I missed you, you fucking dumbass?” you sighed, and Leon let out a weak chuckle. He lifted his head slowly, his nose barely brushing against your jaw as you found those ever familiar baby blues of his.

“I think I have some idea,” he whispered with a short grin.

And you kissed him again.

TAGGING:

@chaosandbubbles @obsessedwithtoomanythings @navstuffs

[tommykinard]

Hi! Very embarrassing gif-making question, feel free to ignore if it's too complicated, but how do you layer two gifs on top of each other like that? Whenever I try, one of them always freezes

Hi anon! Not embarrassing at all, I'm happy to show you how I layer two gifs on top of each other. I'll be using this gif from my recent ineffable husbands set as an example:

You'll need a basic knowledge of gifmaking and photoshop, and I'll put the rest of this under the cut in case it gets long.

Creating your gifs

So to start off, you want to create both your gifs in separate documents. Most of my gifmaking process happens in timeline mode, and you want to make sure that both your gifs are smart objects.

I like to have both gifs open side by side in windows so that I can make sure that my colouring is consistent and that both scenes have a similar brightness when I'm done colouring. This is important because to overlay/blend gifs, they need to have similar lighting for best results. (If your photoshop opens up the gifs as tabs, just click on where the file name is and drag the tab anywhere outside of the top bar so that it opens up as a window).

This is how my gifs look before colouring, and how each of the layers panels look (I've already added my sharpening, which is why each gif has two smart object layers).

And this is how my gifs look after I add my base colouring + the yellow for this gifset:

2. Making groups

Now from here on it's fairly simple. First we want to put all our gif layers in a group so that it's easier to transfer them to the same canvas while still keeping them easy to edit in case we need to make adjustments afterwards.

So select all your gif layers by holding the shift key and clicking on your first and last layer.

Then to make a group you can either use the command + g keys (ctrl + g on windows) while all the layers are selected, or you can click on the little folder icon at the bottom of the layers panel.

You can then double click on the group that was created and rename it. I like to put a word or phrase that describes the scene, so I've named these 'bandstand' for the gif on the left and 'car' for the gif on the right. At this point, your gifs are still in separate documents.

3. Overlaying the two gifs

Now all you have to do is copy and paste one of the groups onto the other gif's canvas. For me, it doesn't matter which group I copy, so for this I'm going to copy the 'car' group by selecting the group in the layers panel and using the command + c keys (ctrl + c).

I then click over to the other gif's canvas (you should see the other folder name in the layers panel, so in this case I'll see it say 'bandstand'). To paste, you just need to use command + shift + v (ctrl + shift + v). The shift key ensures that the positioning of your gif stays the same.

So now you should only see your second gif on the canvas, and both your groups in the layers panel, like so.

Making sure your top group is selected, change the blending mode of the group to either 'screen' or 'lighten' depending on your preferences (if you're working with really bright scenes, it might also be worth trying out 'multiply'). Your gifs should then overlay on top of each other, and play simultaneously when you scrub through the timeline and save the gif.

And this is how the gif looks when saved:

4. Final touches

If you're not happy with how the overlay looks, you can do a bunch of things to make it appear the way you want. I use a combination of resizing, layer masks, and painted layers to hide/show different portions of the gifs. You can also modify the colourings at this point, add text/overlays, adjust the brightness, and add painted colour layers. At the end, just convert back to frames and adjust the speed.

After all this, I end up with the final result which is this. As you can see, I darkened the side of his face in the smaller gif and made the brighter part stand out more clearly. I also adjusted the shade of yellow using an extra hue/sat layer.

I hope this helps anon! Please let me know if you still have questions or if you run into any trouble!

Here are some other blending/gif overlay tutorials that I found very helpful as well: 1, 2, 3

[pencilofawesomeness]

Guys I'm having such a bizarre moment. I didn't expect to win like this, or to have my personal headcanons be confirmed so directly, but I also feel simultaneously robbed because Akutami is reaching into my head /jk

We received so little about Sukuna, but those brief brief brieeef moments of existentialism really caught me and I've thought about him for so long because of it. He was a fantastically terrifying villain, but there was always that dissonance there, between some of his words and actions, that portrayed that aimless longing and hurt and what that meant as a characterization point, and I'm honestly so hyped we turn around and get this in 271:

(scanlation for this panel because I think it gets the sentiment across better)

Followed by

I'm—

Y'all I started my draft for my Sukuna Reincarnation AU months ago and I never expected canon to validate me. They leave it easier and more open-ended, of course, but I'm coming on the record to say I wasn't crazy for my stretch of a character exploration and also I called it.

I won't go into the specifics of my "study Sukuna like a cockroach" notes now I just wanted to come grab the mic and announce that I beat Akutami to it >:D /lh

I'm being a good noodle and not stretching myself thin by starting a new multichap now, but I've had With the Storm in the works since January, and in light of the end of JJK and this lovely little tidbit, I'm tossing a sneak-peak from Chapter 7 because why not:

But maybe it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Uraume could accept this proffered hand and continue to hope.

---

Yet… things were different now. Things changed. Uraume changed, Sukuna changed, and even though they were still themselves, there was a myriad of shifts that piled on their shoulders until something gave way. Maybe a subconscious part of Uraume had braced for that to be a crash, but instead, Sukuna had been nothing but accepting and open. It only made them more nervous about losing him, just as they feared losing Pops. Uraume was not used to wanting, or hoping, but there was a powerful need in their chest that childishly demanded that they should get to keep both their kinder father and this happier Sukuna close, even if that may not be possible.

They nodded, not trusting their words at the moment, and Sukuna relaxed slightly.

“Good. Though that reminds me… You never really answered my first question. What do you want to do? With this life, I mean.”

There was that want again. Uraume felt the pull at their lungs until it was unbearable. They knew what he was asking; the question didn’t hinge on his involvement anymore, just them. Sukuna said he wanted to live peacefully, so what, then, was Uraume’s answer?

As much as they felt like a coward saying this, maybe that was okay. Sukuna felt the same way, after all. “I like this life too…” Uraume answered, and it was very different saying those words aloud. “Pops isn’t a shaman at all, and he’s good company and a good father. If I wasn’t able to find you, or you were not of this world, then… I would stay as his family.”

“That’s good,” Sukuna agreed, lifting yet another anxious weight from their chest. “I get that. Nobody else in my family are shamans either—at least, not really—and they’re all good people. It’s a good life, and even though I would have never expected it… I don’t want to lose it.”

It was amazing how similar they were, then and now. Uraume…really shouldn’t have worried about a lack of understanding. Sukuna didn’t have to say it, but it was clear that their thoughts had wandered down a similar road yet again. Their families, full of normal people living normal lives, were an unexpected treasure; to willingly become a monster, to become a scourge upon the world for whatever reason, would forfeit that. More than that, having people to care about made the desire to spread destruction lessen, rather significantly. Maybe that hurt and rage and bitterness was still there, in between their ribs, but in the ones that were dead and buried—a part of them, but also not quite there anymore, like when a scar ceases to constantly itch and ache and becomes only a mark on functioning skin.

They didn’t have to be monsters anymore. There were calmer, kinder things available to want—available to receive, even.

“This is so weird,” Uraume blurted, staring at their small hands and thinking of the strange miracle their lives turned into.

Sukuna barked a quick laugh before it was muffled into something like a snicker. “I know, right?” He leaned back in a stretch, his face catching the sun and lighting him in something that wasn’t a fire, but equally bright. “It’s not bad though.”

It was weird, to be a child, to be without some far-off goal, to be loved and happy, in the sense that it was absurd and foreign and absolutely unexpected. It was a breath of fresh air after years and years of having frozen lungs. Weird, surprising, but unmistakably good after so long of believing that no such term, deceptively simple, could have ever been applicable.

“Not bad at all,” Uraume agreed, a bright and blooming thing in their chest as their life began to slot into a new place. Still open-ended and perhaps a little terrifying for it, but Pops accepted them, and Sukuna accepted them, so maybe they could truly accept themself now, and whatever that will look like.

[wrencatte]

I don't know about you, but that "I'm so scared." panel is haunting me....

Please excuse all the weird errors of all kinds. I once again wrote this on my phone in tumblr drafts...at work (😅😅).

I won't know how many words this is until I can get it in a doc and clean it up for ao3 posting

Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

Dick had a tendency to go high. Jason's tendency is to go low. He tucks himself under tables and in small spaces that adults usually can't fit into. The Cave has a lot of places to hide under (and has a lot of places to climb onto, high into the sky where fear is just a memory and your parents bodies seem so far away) and Bruce has scoured the more obvious places before finding this one: the work table, where he dismantles and fiddles with gear.

And where Jason has taken to messing with his own gear, absolutely fascinated by the intricate mechanisms that made it all work. The kid is an absolute gearhead along with his love for literature, several books on different engines and vehicles have started to migrate to his room.

So Bruce crouches on his knees and peers under the table. The table is deep for toolboxes and a set of drawers on top, and Jason has managed to shove himself in the darkest corner, curled up in the smallest ball possible. He's hit a slight growth spurt in the last few months, leaving his elbows and toes sticking out from the shadows. His face is tucked into his knees. His breathing frantic and hitching - but still so impossibly quiet, like he's spent years teaching himself to cry silently and Bruce's heart breaks all over again at the reminder

(This isn't the first time Jason's cried since he came to live in the Manor, and every single time Bruce never knows unless he's right there when he starts or if he walks in on him mid-sob. And Bruce hates it.)

Bruce's broad shoulders block the light, and Jason flinches into a tighter ball, toes disappearing in the shadows.

"Hey," Bruce starts then stops and doesn't continue for a long moment. Jason stills like a rabbit caught in a fox's gaze, barely perceivable quivers. He exhales slowly. His knees ache on the worn thin rug that's meant to keep dropped things from rolling away. He settles down, legs crossed, hands up on his knees to show he's unarmed, though who knows what Jason's actually seeing. "Want to come out from there?"

Jason shakes his head.

"That's alright," Bruce assures him even though it can't be comfortable down there. "You don't have to so anything you don't want to do."

Jason's next breath is the loudest thing he's ever heard since he got hit with the fear gas. A new batch, more potent than the last. Half a dose could give an adult a heart attack. Jason got one-eighth of a dose via a broken mask and a second too late realization. Hell, they didn't even know he'd actually gotten hit until they made it to the Cave and Bruce turned around and he was gone, the analysis beeping behind him with the announcement that their current anti toxins would be ineffective.

He has a new anti toxin slowly being pieced together by a program and under Alfred's watchful eye, but that does nothing for him right here, right now, with Jason too terrified to make a sound.

Bruce doesn't talk much - he's never needed to - but he sits there and he starts talking. First about a case, of a long ago Rogue that had a funnier gimmick than most and did surface level property damage more than anything else - but eventually he found himself talking about the Justice League, about their unprecedented expansion, about various antics some of the newer heroes get up to.

He doesn't know if Jason's listening or even hears what he's saying. The boy doesn't uncurl. Doesn't make a sound. He hopes that he's breaking through the living nightmare somehow, but he also knows that hope doesn't mean anything.

But he keeps talking anyway.

During a lull, when Bruce's mouth is dry and his throat hurts and - Jason shifts just the tiniest bit. He peeks out from behind his knees, eyes glittering in the dark, and stares at Bruce with pupils blown wide from fear and drugs, chin trembling. Bruce feels like the kid is looking into his soul and finding him lacking, but he opens his mouth anyway and croaks out,

"I'm scared," soft and wavering, thick with tears and the type of brokenness that lends itself to helplessness.

It's a little bit like a confession. An admittance he doesn't want to make but he has no choice but to make it.

"I know," Bruce says gently. "We can fix that, though. It may seem like it, but you don't have to be scared forever."

He holds out a hand, warm and inviting in that same way he did towards the kid sitting across from him at a rickety outdoor picnic table, one who'd just finished inhaling a subpar batburger and fries, one who'd just fifteen minutes ago had even caught jacking the batmobile's tires and had the moxie to whack Batman in the stomach with a tire iron.

The kid then had eyed it warily. And didn't take it, just took a sip of his drink and quietly agreed to let Batman set him up in a warm house with warm meals and clean clothes and the most comfortable bed ever with the 'person I trust the most' - which isn't Bruce Wayne, but one Alfred Pennyworth.

The kid now eyes the hand warily. And takes it. Lets Bruce help him from under the table and lets Bruce fold him into a tight hug, his face tucked against the man's neck, breaths sobbing and hitching.

"I'm so scared," Jason repeats.

"Not for much longer, Jaylad. I've got you."

"I'm so scared," he says out loud, but there's no one around to hear it.

Jason's both grateful for it and collapsing inward when there's no assurance that'll all be over soon, that it won't be forever, that dad's got him. He drops to his knees with a gasp, heart thudding so hard he can feel it in his throat.

He's alone.

He's alone and there's a fear in his chest, invading his lungs, burrowing in his bones. It's going to be there forever. Forever and ever until he dies from it because this isn't a new life, this isn't a gift or love. This is a death sentence. Jason puts a hand to the ground to heave himself up but the thought of walking onto those streets makes him gasp and choke and the fear cycles in on itself from fear to adrenaline to fear fear fear. Never ending. Ramping up bit by bit the more Jason breathes and trembles and, fuck, he's terrified.

Jason scrambles backward on his hands until he hits a shelving unit that rattles. It feels like a knee to the spine, holding him down, driving in, and he sobs quietly. Quiet like he always is when he cries because there's never been a point in being loud about it. Being loud just got attention and attention was always bad.

And he's back to where he was fifteen minutes ago before Marquise - Scandal - showed up and dismissed him and walked away before he could explain. Knees tucked to his chest, arms around his legs, trying to convince himself to stand up, to just go already. His chest heaves. The space gets humid from his tears. He feel like he's going to pass out, dizzy and nauseous.

He's too exposed like this, Jason thinks. Realizes. Fears. (And that fear feeds back into itself, and he hates, hates this so much, but that's not enough. The hate isn't enough to override it.) The room is half trashed and covered in rubble, and he's a whole foot taller than he'd been as a kid, but there, right there -

Jason fits there. Here, under a metal table that has his mask sitting innocently on top. It got wedged against a wall, propped up slightly by some concrete. He tucks himself under it and stays there.

And thinks about - nothing. Because if he thinks about anything - like Batman across the rickety picnic table, offering him a warm house and warm food. Like Batman scolding him for doing something reckless and scaring the shit out of him. Like Bruce sitting on the floor, so patient and understanding and telling him that this fear is only temporary.

Like Batman throwing batarang and the thick spray of blood. Like Batman throwing a punch hard enough to shatter his helmet. Like Batman ripping the insignia off his chest and dragging him across a rooftop.

Jason can't help the whimper. He tips over to lean against a table leg and gasps around the vice around his lungs.

He won't make it out of here. He'll hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness and someone will find him, wearing most of his Red Hood suit, and that person will kill him. Or they'll call the cops and he'll end up in Arkham and he'll die there. There is no normal life. No identity in Metropolis for him. Even if he did make it there, he'd be dead at the first villain attack, unable to defend himself as his aderenaline surges and the fear sets in.

He never expected Bruce to be this so fucking naïve. Cynical idealism? Sure. But not this.

"Hood?"

Jason doesn't acknowledge his name, or the voice. Purposeful footsteps crunch on debris, announcing their path from the hole in the wall to Jason, getting closer and closer.

And closer.

Until there's a shadow of legs blocking the scant light. Until the figure crouches down and there's Nightwing, peering under the table with wide, concerned eyes. He's not wearing his domino, Jason notes almost distantly. His body doesn't feel like his own anymore for all that he can feel the cool metal table against this temple and the rough feel of his pants in his clenched fists.

All there is, is the fear.

"Jason," Dick says with his own kinda fear.

He's reaching under the table, not holding a hand out for Jason to take, for Jason to choose for himself - and the man doesn't know the significance of that, but something in Jason settles anyway at the stark difference.

Dick goes all the way, cupping Jason's face like he does with them all - a pinkie under the jaw for the faint hint of a heart beat, a thumb across the cheek for comfort, his palm to lean into and let him carry the weight. And Jason does lean into it, trembling and shuddery, wet eyes closing.

"C'mon, let's get out from under here." He guides Jason forward until he's spilling into his brother’s arms, face pressed into his shoulder. The Nightwing suit is too tight to grip so Jason wraps his arms around Dick instead, clinging to him tightly. Dick hugs him back just as hard, rocking back and forth.

"I'm scared," Jason whispers - an admittance he has no choice but to make.

Dick hugs him tighter, pulling him into his lap like he's a child. Under a difference circumstance it would be comedic - Jason is broader and taller than Dick - but right now he's just small.

"I've got you," Dick says gently.

He doesn't know why, but that juat makes Jason cry harder.

[simpforfic]

The tiger and The tamer part 1

Welcome to my second fanfic, This will be a Horangi x scientist reader. I got the inspo from @bluegiragi ‘s cod monster au, so show some love to them <3

Part 2 here Masterlist

Word count: 1035

The sound of heels clicking through the hallways drowned out the noises of other doctor’s idle chat. It was only 8 am in the morning, the white walls searing my tired eyes. I let out a small yawn as I walked past the same old white

hallways and steel doors with names of the subjects. This is my everyday life working as a doctor in a lab that messes around with genetics, I can't remember the last time I have seen anything other than white.

“Hey Y/n, How many hours have you slept? Looks like you haven’t slept in ages.” I turn my head towards my colleague, he leans onto the wall with a clipboard on hand. I scowled at him before walking away from that scene, can’t have a day without people telling me i look so sleep deprived.

I finally reached my destination, a steel door with the label horangi on it. I am the head scientist that monitors the subject and runs tests for them to see if they are fit for the battlefield. I scanned my key card and as I walked in, there he was staring at my soul with his yellow golden eyes from the bush. His code name is horangi but I can't really tell his name due to it being hidden from me. He is from what I can remember a tiger hybrid, his nationality is korean but how he got into the kortac is a mystery to me and his other doctors.

"Good morning Mr Horangi, hope you had a good rest." I let my finger off from the button that turns on the microphone and I watched as he stepped out of the bushes to reveal himself. Most of my colleagues are either simping for him hard because of his looks or disgusted by his facial scar. Half of his face was burnt from only leaving the skin around the eye. What makes people disgusted is being able to see the tissue beneath his skin and his teeth. He stood to his full height of 188 cm, tiger tail swayed a little as he stepped out, ears up as if he was trying to eavesdrop.

“Well Good morning to you too, Dr Y/N.” His voice was rough yet a bit deep like usual. He stood in front of the glass plane that separated us both. I could see the fake log they put in his cell was covered in scratches, “Horangi, have you been feeling okay?”, he seemed caught off guard from my question. “Yes, why are you asking?”He followed my eyes to which he quickly realised about the beaten up fake log. “Hey it's not my fault that I was hungry last night, your colleagues didn’t even bring me food when I asked for it.” He admitted to me, but this just pissed me off slightly. How ignorant can my co worker be, this is what I get when I am not allowed to choose the night shift doctor.

I let out a sigh before putting my finger on the microphone button, “I will have a chat with her about this later, Now your breakfast will come in soon. On your schedule for today, You will have 2 tests after breakfast; break time at 10:45; Training at 10:55; then the rest of the day you can either stay in your cell or go to the break area.” Horangi seemed a bit displeased with the schedule but hey I can’t change it for him, it was already made by the higher ups. Horangi muttered a silent okay before walking towards the small pool he has in his cell. I turned around to start doing some paperworks and preparing for the tests he shall do for the next 2 hours.

As I did my work, I could feel a pair of eyes staring at me the whole time as I did my work. Time to time I did turn my head towards the glass to only see Horangi still swimming around in his pool, how odd. But my small little trance was cut off by the sound of the metal door beside the glass panel being opened, letting out a sigh. I walked up to the microphone, “Okay horangi your breakfast is here. Don’t take too long.” He didn’t answer, instead he turned into his tiger form as the poor rookie seemed frozen in fear by his yellow golden eyes, orange golden fur with pitch black stripes all over his body. The rookie put his food down before running out as fast as light, closing the door behind them.

Horangi didn’t seem to mind and just laid down to eat as he ripped the meat into small bits using his sharp teeth. “So what test will he do today?” “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I fell backwards from my chair as Dr Choon-Hee appeared behind me like a ghost. “Hey language young lady.” She scolded me, I looked at the short doctor. I still get surprised from time to time at her height, only standing at 164 cm. I wonder how on earth she has not yet stepped on. “Oh, he has a medical test and a combat test after this.” I let out a small yawn as I stood up with a clipboard in hand and a radio on the other. Dr Choon-Hee gave me a worried look as she saw me yawn, “How long have you slept last night, Dr Y/N?” “Around 3 hours only..” “3 HOURS?!” She was of course surprised by my answer but to me it was normal to only sleep for 3 hours. We both chat as I slowly radioed for the test chambers to be ready and have some guards ready at the door to get Horangi.

Horangi’s pov

I watched Dr Y/N as she chatted with Dr Choon-Hee, I can’t help but stare at Dr Y/N’s body. She seemed like she was sculpted by God himself to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she looked so de-WAIT WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT?! I shook my head in frustration out of my thoughts on her, she is just a doctor.

[munson-blurbs]

STEVE + ARGYLE + READER, afternoon palm tree delight

Warnings: absolutely filthy smut (18+ only, minors DNI), voyeurism?, public sex, drug use, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up), male masturbation, pet names

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Ziggy didn't give me a place in this ask, so I asked her privately and she said the Wheeler basement. So that's where it came from.

--

“Forty-seven, forty-eight—shit, babe, you totally made me lose count!” Argyle groans as you tug gently on his hair to get his attention. 

You roll your eyes. “You were counting the wood panels on the wall, not performing brain surgery.” Your sarcasm garners a laugh from Steve, and Argyle flips you both off. “I was gonna ask you to pass me a joint,” you continue, pulling out your lime green lighter. It’s been a long day, and you could really use some Purple Palm Tree Delight.

Your boyfriend wrinkles his nose. “Won’t the Wheelers get mad if we smoke in their basement?”

“Doubtful,” you scoff. “Nancy told me that Mike once hid a girl down here for, like, weeks. Their parents were oblivious.” You stretch out your hand as he takes the joint from behind his ear and places it in your palm. “Thank you!” you trill, pressing a kiss to his cheek and lighting up. 

“Speaking of Nancy,” Steve interjects, rubbing his palms on his jeans, “do we have an ETA for her, or…?”

“Emergency newspaper club meeting,” you tell him. “But I’m surprised you didn’t already know that, loverboy,” you tease, inhaling and passing to him. He looks at it before taking a hit, shooting you a puzzled look. 

“Don’t try to act coy with us, Harrington,” Argyle laughs, plucking the joint from Steve’s fingers and placing it between his own lips. “You’re gonna sit here and say you’re helping your ex-girlfriend plan a surprise party for her boyfriend out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Steve mumbles, breaking the puff-puff-pass rotation and taking the joint before you can. “Yup, I’m still in love with Nancy.”

You lean over to snatch it back from him, and he gets a perfect view of your cleavage peeking from your tank top. “Wait your turn!” you scold him, but you’re smiling as you say it. 

“Aw, c’mon, princesa,” Argyle nuzzles into you, already feeling the effects from the weed, “cut him some slack. It’s exhausting pining over Nancy all day.” He kisses your neck and snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. He always gets extra frisky when he’s high. 

“Ugh, enough with the PDA!” Steve grumbles as you and Argyle shotgun smoke into each other’s mouths. “Seriously, I’ll leave right now.”

“Someone wishes he was doing this with Nancy Wheeler,” you giggle, only interrupted by your boyfriend nibbling on your earlobe. 

“I don’t want Nancy!” Steve shouts a bit too loudly, startling you. “I’m just being a good friend. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” you retort. “You love her. Why else would you always offer to drive us to work, when the mall is out of your way? Or bring us coffee when you know we have an early shift? Or how you come to all of my volleyball games,

because she’s the one who reports on girls’ sports?”

A deep blush sets into Steve’s cheeks, and Argyle adjusts his position to sit up straighter. “Uh, babe?” he starts. “I don’t think Steve wants to be with Nancy. I think he wants to be with…you.”

“Oh my God!” Steve buries his head in his hands. “Tell me this is a bad dream, and I’m gonna wake up any second now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your eyes widen. “Dude, why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Yeah, man,” Argyle says smugly. “You know we’re always down for a third.”

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, I’d feel too weird…like, touching your girl, y’know?”

There’s a brief silence before you have an idea. “So don’t touch me,” you grin mischievously. “You tell Argyle what you want him to do to me, and he’ll do it. And you’ll only be touching yourself.” You bite your lower lip; you’re already getting wet at the idea of Steve watching you. 

“O-Okay,” Steve stammers, swallowing thickly. “If it’s cool with you guys.” He feels his jeans tightening around his crotch. 

“‘S cool with me,” Argyle chimes in. “What about you, princesa?”

You nod, climbing onto your boyfriend’s lap and straddling his waist. “Whenever you’re ready, Stevie.”

Steve already looks flustered, but he manages to tell Argyle to kiss you. Your boyfriend chastely presses his lips to your cheek, purposely ornery. “Like that?” he goads Steve. 

“No, fuckin’…kiss her, man. Kiss her like you wanna fuck her.” His animalistic side is starting to show, but you barely have time to enjoy it before Argyle’s tongue parts your lips. You moan into it, and Steve palms himself over his jeans. 

“You like her pretty little sounds?” Argyle instigates, chuckling as Steve nods weakly. “There’s plenty more where that came from, Big Boy. Keep going. And, uh, make yourself more comfortable.”

Steve unbuttons his pants obediently, tugging them down along with his boxers. He takes his hard cock in his hand and spits on it. “Is she wet?” he asks. 

Argyle slips his hand under your skirt, bunching up the material and running a thick finger over your panties. “Soaked.”

“Shit,” Steve breathes, using his saliva as lube and pumping slowly. “Rub her clit. Make her feel good.”

“You got it, boss.” Argyle takes your lace thong off and tosses it to Steve. “A little souvenir,” he says with a wink, bringing his attention back to your pussy. 

“Touch me, please,” you beg. “Need your fingers.” He obliges, circling your sensitive bundle with the pad of his middle finger. “S-So good, babe. Right there. I’m gonna…” You grind your hips as he quickens his pace. You feel your orgasm creep up on you, just within reach—

“Stop!” Steve cries out; you and Argyle freeze. “Don’t let her cum yet. Make her work for it. Need to hear her fuckin’ scream.” He’s put your panties over his cock, thrusting into them as he gives instructions. “Go nice and slow.” Argyle complies, and your pathetic whimper only turns both men on more. “Thassit. Now, put one finger in her. Not too fast, though.”

Your fingertips dig into Argyle’s shoulders as you bounce on his thick digit, desperate for some sensory input. Steve notices, clearing his throat in disapproval. “Hey, Cheech,” he calls out, “our girl’s getting greedy. Better put her in her place.”

“Oh, she’s our girl now, Harrington?” Argyle smirks, tilting your chin so your eyes meet his. “You heard him, princesa. Only take what I give you.”

“Y-Yes sir,” you whine, silently praying that he’ll slide another finger inside you.

After a few agonizing minutes that feel like hours, you hear Steve finally mutter, “‘M close. Pull out–fuck–all the stops.” His fist flies over his erection, groaning as the fabric from your panties adds friction. “Wanna see her ride you.”

You couldn’t be more grateful as you pull your boyfriend’s cock out of his pants, grazing it along your wet folds. “Someone’s eager,” he teases lightly, but you have no patience to think of a witty comeback. Instead, you line him up with your wanting cunt, hissing gently as he stretches you.

“T-Tell me how she feels,” Steve pleads. A bead of sweat trickles down from his forehead. “Bet she feels perfect, huh? Bet our girl always feels s’perfect.”

“She’s so fuckin’ tight, dude,” Argyle agrees, throwing his head back as you grind down, allowing his length to hit every square inch of your walls. “Got the tightest little pussy; makes me cum in seconds.”

“Baby?” you squeak out, and both Argyle and Steve turn their attention to you. “C-Can I cum now? Please?” Argyle looks at Steve for approval, and he manages a nod. With that, Argyle pins your thighs against him as he pistons harder and faster, spilling into you as you finish all over his cock. Steve’s panting breaths echo around the room as he cums in your already ruined panties.

“Holy shit,” he says to no one in particular. “That was–wow. Didn’t know I was into that,” he adds with a chuckle. He cleans himself off with the lace, and Argyle reaches for the tissue box to wipe his own cum from you. “Wait–I wanna see. If…if that’s okay?” He realizes that he’s just asked, his ears tinging pink with embarrassment.

Argyle waits for your consent, which you give enthusiastically. “Just no touching,” he warns him, and his possessiveness makes you wet all over again.

Steve nods, feeling his cock twitch up as he watches Argyle’s load drip out of your pussy. He’s speechless for a moment, mumbling, “Clean her up before I get hard again,” tucking your thong into his back pocket.

You’re about to argue that that might not be a bad thing when you hear Nancy’s voice call out to her parents that she’s home. “Shit!” You tug down your bunched-up skirt as Argyle quickly cleans up. You’re all trying to act casual as Nancy bounds down the stairs, crinkling her nose. “Were you guys smoking down here?”

“Mhm, yeah, sorry,” Argyle blurts out. “Won’t happen again.”

Nancy narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Did I miss something?”

“Absolutely not,” you chirp too enthusiastically, and the two boys nod in agreement. 

Steve stands up suddenly, perspiration still clinging to his face. “I, uh, gotta pee,” he says lamely, but as he walks to the bathroom, your panties fall out of his pocket.

“Is that–” Nancy starts, shaking her head. “Actually, I don’t wanna know.”

--

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus being really stressed and not taking care of himself because he has so much going on. His spark flutters get so bad that he ends up having a seizure.

- rodimus over works himself because he gave his high command holiday leave to enjoy it with their conjunxs and he stayed because he doesn’t have a conjunx or partner. He doesn’t even have a frag partner this time around because contrary to belief he does not want to take advantage of his crew or start sleeping around on his ship. He’s not that irresponsible.

- He takes on their paperwork and has their shifts covered. He can’t get Minimus or Megs shift covered by anyone so he just does it himself. Its fine at first but all the caffeinated oil on the ship can’t keep him awake for all the hours needed to help him focus on paperwork. Not to mention he needs more recharge than the average speedster. His spark can’t handle too much caffeine oil either so he’s stuck with a tired spark and dulling frame as he does constant paperwork, long ongoing shifts and gets little less than five hours recharge.

- the cycle repeats for a solid month while high command is away. First aid is about ready to throttle Rodimus to make him get some recharge when Rodimus falls out during his shift and ends up having a seizure right there in the halls.

- rodimus missed too many doses of his spark medication and the over consumption of caffeine oil made his spark beat far more erratics than usual.

- Rodimus is put on berth rest and left in the medbay for optic supervision since he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

- When the others in high command come back, Roddy is still on berth rest and in the medbay in a deep, much needed recharge.

- Drift is not pleased Rodimus hasn’t been taking care of himself nor is Ratchet who wants to take over but First aid won’t let him.

- “he’s my stubborn patient,” and First aid promptly kicks them out but relents to Minimus and Megatron joining the space but only for a brief time.

- the seizure took quite a lot out of Rodimus who had to do speech therapy to strengthen his vocal cords and internal speech modules.

- he also had to get a new med panel for his spark.

- he doesn’t get released from the medbay any time soon and when he does he has to agree to let someone stay with him because he’ll need it. Rodimus out right refuses that.

- thankfully a little visit, forced acceptance, from Cyclonus, Whirl and Tailgate changes him processor and he’s staying with the three in their large hab until he finishes recovering.

- Drift is not happy Rodimus refused to stay with himself and Ratchet and Minimus and Megatron feel the same way.

The only thing Rodimus can say that won’t hurt their feelings is, “I don’t want to sleep in the same hab as a conjunx pair. I don’t need to hear you guys going at it.”

He resorted to saying that after, “I don’t want to intrude,” didn’t work.

Both were true.

But he really, really, really, didn’t want to lay in berth or watch them be in love when he once was in love with them. How he was alone and had no one.

The thing with Whirl, Cyclonus and Tailgate is that he didn’t have old feelings for them. They truly have only been friends and still are. So its a lot easier staying with them instead. He still doesn’t want to intrude but he can’t argue with Cyclonus carrying him bridal style into their room and Whirl threatening to poison him until he’s fully recovered.

“No more over working yourself Captain. There are still bots aboard that want you here.”

Cyclonus words are something only himself and his two partners truly know the meaning of and he has to hide his em field and optics while others are passing them by. The purple mech knows his appreciation and he whispers as much in that moment.

Rodimus doesn’t overwork or over stress himself after that but he does have a new appreciation for the trio.

When they land on a planet with bots and one comes up to him and kisses his servo, he doesn’t push the large femme away.

Instead, he smiles.

And hopes the future will be brighter.

[angels17324]

False Alarm part 2

A/N: So it's been two years since the original, and I now have a new true story that happened to me at work.

I wish these things would stop happening at work but I won't get mad about seeing cute firefighters (And yes the FD actually had to come in this incident)

This is a part 2 but can be read as a standalone Summary: An unexpected reunion and several meddling coworkers Evan 'Buck' Buckley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

For anyone who would like to read part 1:

False Alarm Masterlist

(Y/n) had recently started a new job in a new facility and everything was perfect; they got the hours they wanted, better pay, and it was closer to home. There was just one problem it was down the street from the 118 which meant Buck... They had broken up two years before. The rest of the 118 who had also become like a family to them always reached out to check on them.

(Y/n) had been working at this facility for 5 months and had managed to never have a run-in with Buck yet, however, they had seen the other members mostly Chim and Hen. They remembered the day that they had been in a room for a resident they were transporting. If the duo recognized them under the mask, they did not mention it, but (Y/n) certainly recognized the two familiar paramedics.

And they knew Buck and the rest of the 118 had been here a number of times. (Y/n) just was lucky in their opinion... well maybe not the day they hid behind the food cart... but in their defense, they didn't know the 118 was gonna be there! Was it maybe a bit childish to be hiding from their ex yes... but they just weren't ready to face him yet.

(Y/n) had been working a few night shifts again to help out. They had just sat with their coworkers at the nurses' station, chatting and making jokes to pass the time. (Y/n) yawned as they had only agreed to work that night to help their friend and the dark circles made it obvious they hadn't been sleeping well.

“I'm so happy I have almost a week off before I have to come back,” (Y/n) stretched a bit to loosen some of their joints from having sat around for so long.

“Lucky! I only have two days,” Ally exclaimed. Ally and (Y/n) had known each other for over a year they met at another facility and transferred together.

"We should do rounds soon," (Y/n) said glancing at the clock and noting they'd take their break as soon as rounds finished. Everything had been uneventful. "I'm also going to check downstairs too," "No one is down there," Ally raised her brow. "I know it's my other assignment," They said holding up some papers every 30 minutes they had to check the building since they were putting in a new fire suppression system which meant the current one was down as they added the new one. It also meant that the system wouldn't dial 911 for them.

"Oh," Ally nodded, "Have fun in the haunted basement," she grinned. (Y/n) shoved her lightly before standing up, "Go check on your patients," while walking to do the same in their hall.

After returning from their break everything was fine and they were now counting down the last few hours until they could go home and sleep for a week. Resting their head on their hand, that's when they heard it. The system was ringing but it wasn't the normal sound.

The nurse and both CNAs jumped up. (Y/n) ran to the fire panel to see what it said, and all that read was 'system failure'

"I just walked the building everything was fine." (Y/n) looked back at their nurse Eric.

"You call 911, tell them we're not sure and the systems are down, I'll make some calls too." He said pulling out his phone and walking away.

(Y/n) nodded and started to call while Ally went to check on residents again with (Y/n) following, while they called in case they needed to start an evacuation.

"911, what's your emergency," They heard Maddie's familiar voice which helped calm their nerves a bit.

At the 118 they'd just received the call, and everyone was gearing up to head down. they didn't know what they were walking into as the caller had told dispatch the suppression system wasn't working either.

Buck noticed how jittery Chim and Hen seemed to get when they heard the address.

"What's up with you guys we've gone on calls like this before," He looked at them. "Well... Uhm..." Chim started. "(Y/n) works there," Hen said. "What since when?" Buck said and he was now growing nervous. it wasn't a long drive but it was now too long for him. "About 5 months," Bobby chimed in causing the four in the back to turn to him. "I saw them one morning when we were there for another call," "So they work days then," "Not exactly," Eddie said, "Said they work rotating shifts," "Has everyone been talking to (Y/n) except me?" Buck looked at his team, their breakup hadn't really been because either of them wanted to but almost because they had to, with both their schedules they never saw each other anymore. So they had both decided one day it would be better to call it quits.

The drive felt like hours, but it was less than 5 minutes before they were in front of the building. They didn't see any smoke or anything else to raise concern for yet.

That's when Buck saw them at the front door, they were wearing their favorite scrubs and propping the door open. They still looked as beautiful as the last time Buck had seen them. But now wasn't the time for that. Bobby walked up in his turnout gear so they were prepared in case they found anything. "Bobby, we've managed to make it stop beeping for a while and we haven't found anything yet. but it ke-" They were cut off at the beeping from the panels resumed. "-eps coming back on and no one knows how to shut it off."

Buck noticed they looked anywhere but at him as Bobby and the others walked in to look around. But Buck couldn't stop staring at them. They walked over to their coworker and huddled together talking quietly.

"Alright, someone needs to check all the panels," Bobby said. "I'll do it," Buck volunteered.

"(Y/n) knows where they all are!" Ally said a bit loudly.

"Alright you two go check them all out then we will stay here," Hen happily pushed Buck in the direction of (Y/n).

The two were quiet as they checked the two panels upstairs before they lead him to the ones downstairs.

"So..." Buck started, "You work here now...?"

"I do," They said barely above a whisper.

"I haven't seen you when we've been here on any calls..."

"We probably just missed each other but why would want to see me..." They leaned against the desk as Buck started to check the panel seeing the same error code as the rest.

"To check on you make sure you're okay, and you know... not setting off fire alarms," He tried to tease.

"Neither times were my fault Buck and you know it," They rolled their eyes.

Buck had to admit he missed them, their break up had been mostly amicable. They had only broken up because of their time commitments to other parts of their lives, not because they wanted to. It still broke both of them more than either is willing to admit.

"Sure, if you say so," He chuckled a bit. They shook their head at Buck's jokes, "It's definitely not to see us in uniform again right?"

"Trust me, I've seen plenty of men in uniforms," they hit his shoulder lightly.

"Glad to see you can still do it,"

"What?

"Have fun and joke around me," he smiled softly.

"Buck,"

"So, got anybody..."

"We're gonna play 20 questions now?" They raised their brow and looked at him.

"No, I'm just curious," Buck admitted.

They shook their head again and led him to the last panel, "No," they stated simply. "You?"

"Nothing that's stuck..." He rubbed his neck and looked at the panel they nodded slowly. "Still nothing... let's head back up,"

When they rejoined the group Eddie and Chim were sitting on some chairs near Bobby and Hen. Chim had the manual for the system in his hand, they didn't remember seeing it the last time they were up there.

"Nothing," Bobby said.

Eric walked over after he got off the phone again, and pressed a few buttons shutting the system completely off.

"Hallelujah!" Ally shouted raising her arms up.

"Thank god my ears were starting to hurt," (Y/n) said.

After Eric explained to Bobby what he had been told the 118 started to pack up their gear to go. Buck glanced back at (Y/n) and started to walk out with the others.

Hen turned to him, "I heard she has the next week off, and you have a few days off after today too,"

"Okay..." Buck said not understanding.

"We all know you still like them, Buck we could see it in your eyes," Eddie looked at him.

"We broke up for a reason,"

"It wasn't a good one," Chim chimed in.

"Go ask her to get breakfast with you," Bobby looked at him.

"Not you too Bobby,"

"Look up there they're probably telling her to do the same thing," Hen pointed out both Ally and Eric talking to (Y/n) and pointing out to them.

"... We've gotta go," the other members groaned a bit at Buck but climbed back into the truck to head back. As soon as he sat down Buck pulled out his phone

Inside (Y/n) was indeed having the same conversation.

"He asked if you were dating anyone it must mean he still likes you," Ally grabbed her coworker's shoulders and tried shaking some sense into them.

"Look, love is hard and you two can still make it work," Eric said trying to impart some wisdom to the younger employee.

"It's too late now they're gone," (Y/n) nodded their head outside.

"You're ridiculous!" Ally huffed, and all three returned to the nurse's station, when (Y/n) heard their phone chime.

Buck: Wanna grab a bite after your shift and catch up?

They smiled a bit and sent him a yes before returning to work.

[android-anthology-hub]

A Robot and a Girl - Part 1

I've been working a lot on polishing things up for this series, including doing a full rewrite of all three chapters of the first story in this series.

So let's start things off with a bang.

You'll also be able to read this over on Fiction Press, Ao3, and Tapas.

Edit: Unfortunately, because Tumblr has somehow become even more broken, posts with certain images can't register in their tags! And Tumblr removed the ability to have line breaks without having to code them in HTML by hand a long time ago. So, unfortunately, the Tumblr version of all of these stories are going to be without those linebreaks! Which sucks! THANKS STAFF!

The stylus shifted about in D'Anna's grip as she trailed along the pages of her notebook. Her knuckles stood out against her dark skin, gold-alloy joints smoothly shifting with every curve and line. She followed along the edges of the coat in her memory. The image lay over the page before her eyes, like a digital ghost.

It had been difficult to get it out of the tower security systems. Tanu had tried to piece it together as best they could. Lines of loose code bled into the image of the man, roughing up the edges of his coat. 

But still, she sketched them in. A little flourish of her own. She kept her focus on the notebook in her hands-

The light panels overhead flickered, and the trams rumbled down the center of the corridor. The door beside her opened and shut as people moved past along the side of the transport lane.

-and the security door across the way.

Every flash and tone of the signal light ran ahead of the next wave of sound as it crashed through the corridors like a current. Passengers rode past on the transport lanes. Cargo runners raced somewhere over their heads. And people gathered at the lane crossings. The rumble of the trams faded down the corridor, the crossing gates opened, and the crowd rushed away. The signal flashed again as another wave gathered-

D'Anna glanced back and forth from her sketch to the crowd. 

-the cargo runners racing by-

There he was. Stepping right into the crowd as the lights changed-

-and the crossing gates opened. D'Anna watched as the man approached the door across the corridor. Circuits silently whirred to life in her eyes, tracking the man as he unlocked the door - scratching down the code as he punched it in - and slipped inside.

It looked like the info she'd gotten from Tanu was right on the mark-

She brushed her thumb over a name she'd written on the same page, Rosi.

She'd made a promise, and she planned to keep it…

She tucked everything away, the gates sliding shut behind her as she crossed to the other side.

-now she just had to stay on him.

D’Anna’s breath turned to fog in the cold air of the hall as she trailed her mark.

The man tugged his coat tighter against the cold, the steam of his breath glowing in the cold lighting of the panels overhead. Dark green spread across his shoulders, a stark contrast to the pale gray that wrapped his arms and waist. It wasn’t too uncommon to see on an engineer’s coat… But she could see a white synth-silk scarf poking out over his collar.

That kind of fabric wasn’t cheap. Hardly something she’d see on an engineer this far down in the city. He was owned, whether he admitted it or not. That scarf was as much a collar as a comfort, paid for by his patron. But who paid him didn’t matter-

Another door slid open with a click, the engineer more focused on pulling his data card from the lock and tucking it away than on the hall. D’Anna followed close behind him as he stepped through.

Too close. Dammit, she was too close!

The door failed to close when it should have, the engineer’s heel grinding to a halt on the concrete floor.

She had to be quick. Think of something…

D’Anna tucked her hands away in her pockets as he turned, quickly speaking up, “I’m sorry, sir. I would have announced myself sooner, but my employer prefers discretion.”

-what mattered was the job.

With a cautious frown, he looked her up and down, nervously adjusting his scarf.

If he knew she was lying, he didn’t show it. He was too twitchy for her liking…

He kept glancing at her wrap-tunic, eyeing the synth-silk with a thoughtful tug of his scarf.

Sometimes it paid to keep a few of her old things.

His voice was low and ragged, “What sort of work, ma’am?”

He waved a hand over a sensor by the door, shop tables lining the wall next to him lighting up all at once. The light was just as cold as the hall, old metal arches casting shadows along the curved ceiling of the narrow shop. A pair of mech tables formed an island in the center of the room, their mechanical arms and cables neatly folded away.

It seemed innocent enough, a mechanics shop like any other. And yet, it felt wrong. It was too clean and put together, almost like a showroom. What was it hiding?

He chuckled as he looked back at her, waving to the selection of parts that sat neatly on his table, “We can work with whatever you might need: Mechanical, Cybernetic, even Mechatronic.”

Every piece had its place like he was proud of his work. He probably was. But it wasn’t good enough. Come on. If he could just show her where he could be keeping them…

“A mech,” she said, earning a pause from the man as he looked at her more carefully. “It’s my employer’s understanding that you’re in supply.”

The engineer frowned in thought as he picked an eye from the table, the gold-alloy iris shining under the light as he turned back to her. She stared at the eye as he rolled it in his hands, thankful for her tinted glasses.

“Well, that depends,” he started, slowly turning his back. He tossed the eye behind him, inquiring over his shoulder, “What model?”

D’Anna caught it on reflex, her joints glinting in the shop lights. She did her best to ignore the gleam in his eye and the self-satisfied smile on his face. He was getting a little too curious…

“An RC-N unit,” she said, keeping her voice gentle as she set the eye back in its place on the table.

“Workhorse,” he mused. “Now why is an expensive android like you coming here? And all for a mech that’s easy to order anywhere?”

“As I said, my employer prefers discretion,” D’Anna said with a frown. “And a workhorse isn’t the only model they’re looking to get, even if you’d have to reset their cores.”

She was pushing him, but if he took the bait…

He hummed thoughtfully, striding over to the far end of the wall as he spoke, “Very well, miss…?”

“AT-S-039,” D’Anna lied, earning a chuckle from the man.

“Tower staff, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see why your employer would wanna keep things quiet,” he said, eyeing her over his shoulder as he rummaged for his tools. “Folks up in the towers have reputations to uphold.”

“Yes, they do,” D’Anna said, her eyes scanning around the shop as she approached a tool chest embedded into the opposite wall.

“Well-” the engineer said as he came up behind her, core resetter in hand, thumb waiting on the trigger. “-you’re in luck, ma’am. I came into an RC-N unit recently.”

She heard the tell-tale click and crackle of electricity, spinning around in time to block the prongs of the resetter with her hand. Lightning arced from the three metal prongs, surging up through her arm, and into her shoulder as it threw her back. She slammed into the drawers behind her, shoulder screaming from the impact. She clutched at her arm, limp and numb from the jolt. Her hand was smoking…

“Took the shock to your arm and not your body. You’re pretty quick,” he hummed, giving the resetter another crackling click as he loomed over her. “Now, why are you here?”

She groaned as she tried to flex her fingers, “Looking for someone…”

D’Anna cried out as she slammed her arm into the drawers, shocking some sensation back into the limb.

The engineer just shook his head with a ragged chuckle, “No one else here but us. Not that it matters.”

Sparks arced across the triple prongs as he lunged for her.

One good jolt, and she’d be out like a light. She’d have to be quick.

She jabbed him in the arm - alloyed knuckles slamming into muscle - and sent the tool clattering to the floor. She surged up from her place on the ground. Her burned hand ached as another punch to the button of his chin sent him stumbling back into the mech table, head rattling.

“You…!” he sputtered, leaning against the table as his head spun.

She closed the gap in a single lunge, stepping like a boxer as she hooked an arm under his ribs. With her whole weight, she yanked him up and drove him back down onto the floor. She hauled him up by shirt and scarf, her joints whirring as she held him tight. He grabbed her wrist as he tried to stand, his feet scrambling against the floor. But she wouldn’t budge.

“You’ve got a storage space somewhere, don’t you, sir. Somewhere out of sight,” she kept her voice a soft-spoken threat, knocking his footing with a firm shake that ripped his collar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the engineer snapped, looking back at the tool chest embedded in the wall.

“It’s behind there, isn’t it, sir?”

She shook a yes from him before she threw him onto the floor again. She grabbed his collar and dragged him back over to the worktable, harshly propping him against its leg.

She yanked off his scarf, the man groaning as she tied his hands to the table, “W-Wait. Wait!”

“Don’t worry sir,” she dismissed him with a shake of her head. “I’m sure you’ll get yourself out in an hour-”

-maybe three, if she was being honest. But now-

D’Anna sighed and rose to her feet, her eyes scanning over the walls and floor as she approached the tool chest.

-she had a door to find.

She frowned at the wall as she looked it over, muttering under her breath, “Now, how do you open…?”

She could see the way the tool chest moved, her eyes picking up the grooves it left behind.

But she couldn’t find the lock…

She closed her eyes as she ran her hands along the sides of the chest, focusing on the contacts in her palms. As her hand trailed halfway down, she felt it, a gentle signal pinging against her palm.

“Data lock,” she hummed, feeling out the interface. She looked back at the man, still struggling against his scarf as she spoke, “Your card’s the key, isn’t it, sir.”

It wasn’t a question.

His data card wasn’t hard to find. No one’s was really…

She paused as she pulled it from his pocket, a softer green than his coat. But it was the emblem etched into the plastic circuits that caught her eye. A white oval with two flattened sides, three diamonds cut out along its center. 

She knew it well.

“Mr. Archer,” she said with a frown, curling her hands into a fist. “Now why is he funding a chop shop?”

“Wouldn’t know,” the engineer coughed, trying to get the wind back in his lungs.

“Yeah, you do,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

“Who are you?” he asked, staring at her as she looked back.

“I don’t really know myself, sir…”

She could feel the circuits firing as she tapped the card, the tool chest sliding out along the wall.

The room beyond was lined with storage stalls, five of them full. The back of the room was some kind of loading bay, the sounds of the transport lanes just beyond its rolling door. Each mech was held firmly in place with straps, their heads hanging low, without power.

D’Anna clenched her fists as she walked down the line, the lights flickering on overhead.

Just how long had he been running like this?

“Most of these are archer mechs, combat models,” she muttered to herself, frowning in thought.

She stopped at the last stall before the loading dock, running a hand over the scorched metal of the mech’s chest plate. 

They were an RC-N model, exactly who she was looking for… 

The engineer had pulled out their power cell, leaving it on a small table built into the stall. With a grunt, she pulled open their chest plate and slotted it back inside. Its circuits flickered to life as she twisted the cell into place. She could hear their systems warming up as she closed them back up.

“Rosi?” she asked, stepping back as their eyes came online, pulsing as they regarded her.

“You–” their voice box crackled. “You…know my name?”

She gave them a small smile as she undid the straps, “Somebody missed you a lot when you disappeared. Sweet lady asked me to find you.”

As the last strap came off they stepped free of the stall, arms turning and clicking in sturdy shoulder joints.

Rosi tested and flexed their hands after being bound so long, tilting their head inquisitively as they spoke, “You know Cole?”

“I’m gonna get you back to her,” D’Anna said, meeting their eyes as they studied her.

They clenched their hands at their sides, looking around at the other stalls.

“What about them? What will happen to them?” they asked, watching as she studied the other models.

“I’ve got a friend that can take them in-” she ran a hand along the chest of one of the archer mechs, their body brand new. “-I won’t leave them behind.”

“Do you mean that,” Rosi asked, towering over her as they stood at her side.

She took their hand in hers and squeezed until her nerves ached, the servos in her knuckles whining.

“I give you my word, Rosi. They’ll be safe,” she said softly.

Rosi stared at her for a long time, longer than most would be comfortable with.

It was a look that asked too many questions. A look that held thought behind it. It reminded her that even a machine like them, a workhorse, was alive.

“You surprise me,” was all Rosi said.

D’Anna gripped the hem of her coat, thumb trailing along the once white synth-silk, long since dyed red.

She looked back at them with a smile, irises glinting as she spoke, “That’s a good thing, Rosi, thank you…” she rubbed her hands together with a small chuckle, “Now, let’s get the rest of ‘em online, shall we?”

The Gardens were always warm, humidity dripping from the solar shaft’s machinery. Greenery grew along the walls, vibrant in the sunlight that spilled in from above.

The air rushed past D’Anna as the corridors of the city opened up into the Gardens’ wide open spaces, sunlight glinting off her glasses. She shaded her eyes as she let her circuits adjust to the natural light.

“So it’s morning already?” she muttered to herself, knocking her glasses up as she kneaded at her brow.

She would never get used to seeing so much growth outside the Towers. Vines and branches wound their way around metal and concrete, cleaning the air for the rest of the city. But that wasn’t all it did.

She could see people tending gardens mounted on the walls, picking fruits and leaves that thrived in the sunlight. Flowers bloomed in planters along the path she was walking, an absolute riot of color. She could see traders setting out their wares, gardeners gathering their harvest, and engineers readying their equipment.

“Looks like a smuggler drop’s coming,” D’Anna hummed, glancing up at Rosi beside her.

Rosi gave a sage nod, then tilted their head in confusion as they spoke, “Smuggler drop?”

She nodded towards the massive airshaft that dominated the space, climbing towards open sky.

“You’ll see,” she said. “We should hurry, we don’t want to get in the way, trust me.”

They looked back to their fellow mechs, the other four giving Rosi a questioning look. And Rosi just splayed their hands in a small, helpless, gesture.

D’Anna frowned in thought as she looked around, circuits whirring as her eyes scanned around the space. She let out a soft sigh as she found what she was looking for, a yellow diamond marked on the nearby wall. She laid a hand over the marker, the paint still pretty new, and turned till she found the next.

This wasn’t where the path was last time she was here… She’d have to ask about that later.

She waved for Rosi and the others to follow, tucking her hands away as her eyes traced from one diamond to the next. The gardens continued to hum with activity. The tension building to an event she knew all too well. She continued to follow the trail, her eyes scanning about

Her eyes scanned about, racing along the trail until she found a familiar sight. Hidden in the branches and vines was an alcove, a small door marked with that same golden yellow beckoning her. She could hear the rumbling overhead, the electric hum of engines.

Bell tones rang out all around the shaft as several aerial craft started their descent. Their atmo-drivers whipped the wind into a frenzy as they hovered. Men and women barked orders, machines creaked and groaned, landing pads sliding out from where they’d been hidden amongst the green.

A young woman’s voice crackled out all around the Gardens, “Starting the clock, ninety minutes.”

The crews clicked on their watches, small screens flickering to life. And all counted down-

-90-

The moment a craft landed, the smuggler crews went to work, opening panels and pulling their contraband from their hiding places.

-87-

Others opened their cargo bays as they descended, barkers leaning out to announce their wares.

-81-

Mechanics raced out to meet them, trading work for whatever they had to offer.

-counting down the small window till sector security took notice.

D’Anna flashed a small smile as she watched everyone go to work, bringing goods to trade and sell.

Before she came here, she had never seen anything quite like it. She’d hated the chaos back then, but now she could see the beauty in it. The people here were full of life, brimming with ideas. Now, she could hardly imagine any other sight that brought a smile to her face quite like this.

She turned to Rosi and the others, one hand still in her coat pocket while the other tapped against the door.

“That-” she said with a nod to the organized chaos around them. “-is a smuggler drop.”

Himari was probably hard at work already.

[comicaurora]

What you said about letting characters make decisions on a panel-by-panel basis is immensely fascinating. Has a character ever “surprised you” after some thought and altered the course of an arc?

So many times. Kendal going to help Erin and insisting they hear him out was planned, but Alinua hiding inside a tree to get a read on him was not. Kendal going after Falst alone in Gleicann's forest was a last-minute tweak, as was him outright telling Alinua that Zuurith would be targeting him. Caliban interrupting Falst and Alinua was planned, but Falst jumping off the mountain was not. The entire subplot with Shrike sort of blossomed out of nothing, and I wasn't expecting Alinua to KO a guard and take their lacrima OR Erin to leave behind a huge repository of knowledge to save the gang. Kendal and Dainix fighting in the arena was planned, but Kendal adamantly refusing to fight back was not. It's very obvious in hindsight and would've made the story much weaker if I hadn't done it, but Alinua deciding to break open Zuurith's prison was not part of the initial timeline of the story. Hell, Tynan turning into a dragon was a late-game shift when I realized Erin's plan was going to work and he wasn't going to sit around and let the good guys wear him down, and Erin immediately blowing himself up when Tynan grabbed him was not my original plan. The Void Dragon interfering was also a bit of a surprise, but I'd been planning on making him more of an active presence so that actually worked out better than anticipated - but in short, everything after the gang assembles to fight Tynan and before Vash shows up is the knockdown consequence of character decisions I didn't plan when the arc began. Tess wasn't supposed to join the party full-time, but she argued her case very convincingly. Alinua's current emotional state was planned but not Falst's extremely self-destructive response. It's in an upcoming storyboard and thus a spoiler, but there's a scene where Dainix surprised me twice in rapid succession by being very invested in a specific detail of what they're dealing with, and thus introduced an exciting layer of additional angst to the substrate of the scene.

I don't let just anything happen - fraught conversations with Falst in them often go through multiple drafts because he has a Punch Threshold where he'll just start swinging if I let whoever he's talking to say the wrong thing - but if someone has a better idea than mine that doesn't wreck too much in the long term, I usually let 'em do it.