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randofics · 1 year ago

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Being able to reach where the bots can't

The men on base couldn't pull something out of Optimus's engine block. It was deep inside, wedged in the cables and framework. Without thinking, you offered to try removing it. They stepped aside, and you slipped underneath Optimus's bumper. The men watched incredulously as your body disappeared inside the engine space. You wriggled between the frame and the giant engine with a small light clenched in your teeth.

Your body pressed into the warm metal around you as you searched. When you spotted the offending piece of debris. You ever so gently twisted and coaxed it out of where it had been wedged. You felt him shake around you when it popped free. Dropping it to the concrete below with a clang, you wriggled your way out. Your clothes and hands had stripes of smudged grease and other remnants of vehicle fluids all over.

You popped your back after you slid out from under him and patted his hood. "Good to go, Optimus."

He'd never admit it, but having you pressed against the inside of his engine space felt... well, it made him feel things, to say the least. He thanked you, of course. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, but the thoughts running through his processor would've made him blush if he were able to.

-------

Crosshairs could feel that something was off as he moved. Almost like when humans get a stitch or muscle cramp. You noticed him moving to try and free whatever may be stuck or out of place. "Hey, Cross you, alright?" He looked up as he was feeling under his chest panels. "Something feels off, but I can't tell what or where it is."

"Can you transform? Maybe I can find it." He did as asked, transforming. "Where can you feel it in this form?"

"My engine space as far as I can tell." He pops his hood, and with a small flashlight, you look over parts of his engine block that are visible but can't see anything out of place. You lean over the side, looking between the frame and block. Something blue catches your eye, and you bend over, slipping your hand into the small gap. You feel Something wet and remove your arm to look at your fingers. Drops of blue enerjon color your skin and you hiss. "Looks like something cut one of your cables. Not all the way through, but you are leaking some enerjon. I can help stop the bleeding with some electrical tape if you want?"

"Please do. It can take a while for cables to seal on their own." You grabbed the electrical tape and practically climbed into his engine to reach the cable deep inside. Your chest and face were pressed into his engine so you could reach. As gently as you could, you wrapped up the leaking cable. Pushing up into a sitting position on your knees, you breathed a sigh of relief. "Just come get me when it feels like it's sealed up."

You closed his hood and walked back to do whatever you'd been doing beforehand. He watched your hips sway as you left. The feeling of your hands on his cables and block lingered long after you left, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back strut.

-------

Bumblebee could've sworn he felt something in his undercarriage as he was driving with you to run an errand. When he ran over a bump, it stuck him like a thorn. He spoke his concerns over the radio, and you offered to take a look when you got back to base.

Later, you had him drive up onto a pair of car ramps. With his undercarriage exposed, you slid underneath him to search for anything that could be problematic. Nothing in his front half stuck out to you, so you slid further back, and almost at his rear axel, you spotted something shiny and out of place. It was lodged in the crack around his gas tank. "Bee, I found it! I'll try to pull it free, but you can't move, ok?" A beep and wirr was all you got in response, so you took it as an ok.

Lightly, you touch the underside of his tank, and he shakes at the contact. Your other hand grips the edge of the metal object and gives it a light tug. It shifts a bit but doesn't pop free. With more force, you tug and wiggle the piece, and it pops free. Bee jumps an inch but stays on the ramps, and you slide out from under him. A deep male voice from an old show speaks over his radio. "Thank you, love, you're a life saver!"

You give him a pat on the hood and examine the metal in your hand. "Looks like a piece of tin roofing. Good thing it didn't cut any cables or your tires."

The feeling of your hands on his undercarriage stayed for a while after you left. He wondered what it would be like to have you wash him by hand rather than going through the wash station at the base.

-------

Ratchet lost an important piece of the machine he was working on in a crack just small enough that his didgets couldn't slip through. He would've had Arcee help him, but she was still out on patrol. He looked over to you, sleeping on the couch. You were the only human on base at the moment, and he really needed that piece. Reluctantly, he walked over to the raised platform and called your name a few times.

You stirred and turned over to sleepily look at him. "Mmh, I'm up. What is it?" You stretch and yawn while still laying down. "I apologize for waking you, but I need your assistance with something." Standing you rub your eyes to clear them. He takes you in his servos and places you on the floor before the gap in the wall. Looking up at him questioningly, he finally tells you what's going on.

With him shining a light into the gap, you slip through all the way till your wide hips stop you from going further. The piece is thankfully within reach, and you just have to angle yourself to grab it. Your rear stuck out in full view, and he tried looking away, but his gaze kept slipping back to you as you reached for the object.

When you stood up holding the object in hand, he picked you up and placed you on the platform again. He thanked you but couldn't look you in the eye. You smiled up at him, none the wiser of the thoughts running through his processor.

#fanfic #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #imagine #optimus x reader #bumblebee x reader #crosshairs x reader #ratchet x reader

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britt-kageryuu · 7 months ago

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Raph is in the garage working on a motorcycle maintenance while talking to chat, his model is in ripped jeans, a white tank top, fingerless gloves, black boots, and his mask with a set of stars 'stitched' to the tails. His tail is sweeping across the floor behind him as he moves. River is grabbing tools that Raph needs.

Donnie was working on the turtle tank off screen, but he had to go get a missing part he needed. A Super Chat asked for any odd stories from their teens. Raph had to think about how to tell the story.

"Well, a few years back Pops was training us in 'Ninja Hide N' Seek' and part of this training was to take something from one of the guard dogs from this hotel in the city. We didn't think to hard on it at the time, but eventually we learned that the Hotel was owned by his Ex-Fiancee, and this was a small way to get back at her." Raph during this lifts the motorcycle with one hand to check the underside of the engine area. Before gently putting it back on the stand that was holding it up. "So we were sneakin' around her hotel lookin' for this guard dog, and not really hiding like ninja. I think at one point I was just holding a huge leaf in front of me to 'hide' myself. We were kinda stupid back then."

River comes over with cleaning rags, and a bottle of crome polish. "There is now alot of people spamming 'Ex-Fiancee' in the chat, I think you peeked their interest!"

Raph sigh, "I figured." He takes the rags and polish to clean and buff the crome, "Yeah, they hit it off in like the late 80s or early 90s, then shortly after Dad proposed things went... well, he doesn't like to talk about that time." Raph looks a bit troubled while saying this, "We know he got away, but it's not really clear when, or how he ended up a Single Father of Four. We just know he had a hard time adjusting to all these changes at once."

He pauses to take a closer look at a spot on the side of the bike.

"But hey, he did his best, and we came out pretty Okay. If a bit crazy." Raph does a bit of side eye, "Some more unhinged than others."

Right after he says this Donnie comes into frame carrying a huge chunk of metal, an engine block, and pulling a wagon full of random bits of junk.

"Red~ you would not believe the luck I had at the juckyard!" Donnie almost sings as he goes to put thinks down his tail visibly wagging happily, and a loud thunk of him putting the engine down nearby.

"Did you get attacked by Ms. Nubbins again?" Raph asks in amusement at how his brother is emoting.

"No, she had a vet visit today. I found not only what I needed, but also this!" Donnie pulls a box of Wrestling Action Figures that were in pretty good condition.

"Oh my gosh! Is that the first series GhostBear action figure that had to be pulled because the 'claws' were too sharp!?" Raph whisper shouts in excitement.

"The very one! He says with absolute certainty! Plus a number of other figures, but wrestling is more your thing, so I don't know who they all are." Donnie waves his hand in dismissal as Raph grabs the box, and carefully goes through them to check their conditions. "I'll leave you to that, chat be ready to get a bunch of info dumping about wrestlers once he finishes checking them over."

And as Donnie said, a good chuck of the rest of the stream was Raph cleaning up the action figures, talking about who they were, and random facts about them. Meanwhile Donnie continues to work in the background unintentionally showing off more of his strength while moving very heavy objects.

Chat is a mix of people listening to the info dump, and those who are still reeling from the casual moving of an engine block like it was a big microwave, and Raph moving the bike with one hand again to have more room to place the figures down as he talks.

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Masterpost

I had these ideas pop into my head, and they made more sense to combine them than write them as separate posts.

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narukoibito · 2 years ago

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since feeling is first who pays any attention — chapter two

Summary: Ginny has done her fair share of watching Harry over the years.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: Thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes last time! Hope you enjoy a glimpse of Ginny during Prisoner of Azkaban!

ii.

Ginny leans out of the train window, the cold metal and glass pressing against her stomach, waving to Mum and Dad as the train speeds away. The wind whips strands of her hair into her face, but that has nothing to do with the tears that well in her throat. She swallows them down, waving harder until the train turns a corner and blocks her parents from view.

She tries hard to not feel like a cloud has blocked the sun.

Ron stops waving beside her and turns his head toward Harry and Hermione.

“Go away, Ginny,” says Ron suddenly. His voice isn’t unkind, but the words sting.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ginny huffs.

Her eyes flicker to Hermione’s apologetic smile and then to Harry’s green eyes for just an unbearable second before she automatically looks away. She holds her breath, but neither says anything.

Right then. Ginny lifts her chin and stalks off, anger and sadness churning inside her.

You would think saving someone’s life might bring you closer to them. Form a bond, perhaps. But as always, that would be asking for too much, wouldn’t it? Instead, her embarrassment around Harry Potter has only worsened over time.

All summer, she bottled up the scorching Egyptian sunlight, letting it spread through her body to dispel a haunting coldness that resided in the darker corners under her skin. It was easy to block out what happened when she was surrounded by family; Dad’s warm hand on her head, Mum’s soft hugs, and even her brothers’ annoying hovering were a comfort.

Each day, blinding gratitude pulsed through her. Apparently nearly dying does that to you. Puts things in perspective; makes you hyper aware of all the things often taken for granted.

This summer was ablaze with life and love, each new breath a fresh flame.

But here, on the train clanging its way back to Hogwarts, a chill starts to seep back in. She puts one foot in front of another, away from Ron, Hermione, and Harry Potter.

The compartments are filled with happy students reuniting with their friends after a long summer. There are also the eager first years, bright eyed and flushed with excitement. Her heart sinks as she makes her way down the corridor. None of the compartments seems any more inviting than the last.

The sight of Fred and George’s hair sends a shot of hope through her, but they’re fully immersed with other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Everyone is laughing, probably at something the twins said. They might be telling them about Egypt and how they tried to lock Percy in a tomb. She could join in, maybe do that impression of Percy that had them in stitches. She hesitates in front of the compartment window, wondering if they will notice her.

Go away, Ginny.

Stomach clenching, she goes on.

With dread, she nears the end of the train. That’s when she sees a few of her fellow second-year girls in a compartment, a mix of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff that she recognizes from Charms. She searches her mind for their names: Demelza, Robin, and…maybe Lucy? The empty spot next to Demelza signals that there’s enough space for her.

All Ginny needs to do is open the door and ask. It’s easy, she tells herself, even as her heart starts to pound. It’s easy.

But she can’t move.

What if they ask about the things she doesn’t remember? The memories she longs to forget? The nightmares she can’t escape?

One of the girls throws her head back in silent laughter, the sound swallowed up by the train’s engine and metal sliding over metal.

Cold slips down Ginny’s back like a shard of ice, even though her skin feels unbearably hot. The overwhelming juxtaposition of hot and cold makes her sick.

She stumbles forward, unseeing, bashing her elbow against the food trolley as it pushes past. The glimpse of the trolley witch’s wide-eyed gaze that only makes her chest seize with more panic. Her breathing sounds labored and harsh to her ears, like the air can’t get through her tightened throat. She slides open the door to the loo and shoves herself inside, her numb fingers fumbling against the lock until it takes.

She leans over the small sink, feeling the blood pumping through her veins. She wants to scream, she wants to cry. Fighting back the urge, she bites her quivering lip, refusing to give in. Not now, not here, not again.

Focus, Ginny.

Her eyes cast about, trying to find an anchor, but when they land on her reflection, she knows it was a mistake as she grazes against an unwanted memory—hollow eyes staring back, bright blood on her hands that won’t come off. She slams her eyes shut. Flashes of icy fear and hot shame flare through her aching chest.

She focuses on the memory of Bill in Egypt, the way the sun glinted on his fang earring, the soft warmth in his eyes behind his familiar smile.

Focus, he said, leading her through a dark tomb. His steady hands guided hers through the motion of new spells. Ginny was never afraid of the dark, but that was before nightmares that had her waking to strangled screams, sounds of hisses and laughter ringing in her ears. Trust yourself; you’ll find the way out.

That sunlight in the darkness.

Her breath finally evens out. Her legs are shaky, and she slumps back on the closed toilet lid. She feels drained, weak.

The sweat on her brow begins to cool her overheated skin. How long has she been here?

It dawns on her where she is. A short laugh escapes her lips, echoing in the loo.

A flicker of anger stirs her blood. She has spent enough of her time alone in girls’ loos, a shell of the person she used to be.

Ginny spent a year under the thumb of the darkest wizard in the world, fading with each day.

Nothing else will ever compare.

She won’t let Tom take more from her. He has already taken too much. Steeling herself, she stands and opens the door.

Before she can head back toward Demelza’s compartment, the train jolts to a hard stop. The momentum topples her over. Her hands feel tender and raw against the train floor. Sounds of students yelping and thuds of luggage falling in disarray fill the air.

Without warning, the lanterns go out, throwing the entire train into darkness. Everything goes quiet.

That momentary strength inside Ginny flickers.

The inky blackness sends her heart racing. For all the sunlight she has tried to trap inside her, the fear creeps back in whenever the sun dips beyond the horizon. Stupid little girl. She hates proving Tom right, but she hasn’t been able to sleep alone since the Chamber. The only thing that has helped is sneaking into Ron’s room. He always opens the door without a word, his face drawn. He doesn’t tease her, even if she cries. Even if she screams in her sleep. Aside from Harry Potter, Ron is the closest one who knows the pipes, the freefall, the plunging darkness.

Ginny gags. It’s almost as if she’s choking on the rotting stench of Basilisk skin.

Ron.

Through the eerie silence, a compartment door opens and—is that Harry’s voice?

Ginny blindly hurries toward the voices, her screaming instincts guiding her. Her fingers pull a door open, but then someone slams right into her, and they let out two squeals of pain.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s that?” she returns.

“Ginny?”

Relief makes Ginny weak. “Hermione?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for Ron—”

“Come in and sit down—”

Ginny rushes into the pitch-black compartment, her knees buckling under her. She immediately sits, but the seat is surprisingly bony and warm.

“Not here! I’m here!” says Harry, his voice squeaky.

Her system overloads with embarrassment. Did she just sit on Harry bloody Potter?

She leaps up and trips over a pair of legs.

“Ouch!” says a boy she doesn’t recognize.

She finally falls into a miraculously empty seat when a wizard shouts, “Quiet!”

Her heart pounds in her throat. What is an older wizard doing here?

There is a soft click and light floods their surroundings, revealing a ragged, tired-looking wizard holding a handful of flames.

“Stay where you are,” he orders, as if Ginny came here only to leave. But before he can move, the door slowly slides open again, and she can’t help but think surely this compartment can’t fit yet another.

She smells something putrid before she sees anything. But as a darkly hooded figure appears at the door, the smell of decay intensifies. It draws a long, slow, and rattling breath, as if to suck in more than air from the environment.

An intense cold overtakes her. It penetrates deeper than her skin, straight to her core. It’s so cold, it radiates from within her. To her horror, she recognizes this feeling.

It’s the painful drawing of a soul from her body.

Ginny gasps. It sounds like a wet sob, but the air is so cold it hurts to breathe. That lack of air makes her body shake.

It’s like she’s back in the Chamber, helplessly sobbing and pleading. Tom leers down at her, turning more solid the colder she becomes. Panic surges through her, amplifying her tremors.

Destroy the diary, her mind screams, but her hand refuses to move no matter how she tries.

In the weak light, Harry falls from his compartment seat, and her heart seizes up in despair.

Her vision blurs. Everything is a wash of fluid dark watercolors. Harry, lying on the Chamber floor, unmoving, blood pooling around him.

“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain,” Dad said, but what does where it keeps its brain have to do with anything? A person turned monster created that diary.

Is there anything she can trust?

A thick white fog swirls inside, dragging her down. Her body descends to the damp floor, the cold seeping into the back of her robes feels warmer than her own skin—

The intense cold starts to recede, and noises return to her muffled ears. The horrific thing has drifted away, the wizard standing guard at the door, his wand still raised and ready. The lanterns flicker back on, and the floor begins to shake underneath them once again.

Slowly, Ginny begins to register activity. Almost from afar, she watches as Ron slaps a ghastly pale Harry, trying to wake him. How is it that everyone else can move?

Colin Creevey, Mrs. Norris, Nearly Headless Nick, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Penelope Clearwater, Hermione Granger, and now—Harry Potter is dead.

He’s dead and it’s all my fault.

But then Harry stirs. His green eyes blink open, and thick tears blur her vision once more.

“What happened?” he asks, voice small.

Ginny makes a strangled noise, her freezing hand covering her mouth. He’s alive. She doesn’t know what happened to the hooded figure, but Harry Potter is alive, they aren’t in the Chamber, and Tom is gone.

These realizations don’t seem to be enough to stop the tremors still shaking through her. Her body doesn’t seem prepared to recover yet.

She huddles her knees closer as she chokes back a sob. She hears someone coming over and then feels someone’s—Hermione’s—arm around her. She needs to get a hold of herself; later, she will feel hot shame over falling apart in front of Ron’s friends, yet again proving she doesn’t belong. But right now she feels raw and hollowed out, and she can’t help but lean into the warm touch and comfort.

Eventually, she pulls herself together enough to force down some chocolate. It helps, but she can’t shake the lingering chill.

She glances through her lashes, guiltily, at Harry. He was the only one affected worse than her, and she wonders if he thought of anything or anyone, Tom’s laugh, Basilisk blood. She wants to ask, but he doesn’t look her way. He stares out the window as rain runs past the pane, a haunted look in his eyes.

Ginny bites her tongue and looks away.

#since feeling is first who pays any attention #Did I pick this moment because I wanted to highlight that missed moment when Ginny sat on Harry? Yes. Yes I did.#ginny weasley #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #missed moments #canon compliant #prisoner of azkaban

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i-eat-worlds · 2 years ago

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The Subject Part II

Things get a little bit better for B-127. Please tell me if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes.

CW: Pet Whump, Medical Whump, Restraints, Caretaker New Master, overheating, blink and you’ll miss it suicide ideation (this one is pretty chill)

The subject was jostled awake by the bouncing of the truck as it hit a pothole. It thunked against the walls of its crate as the truck drove along the rough road to the new facility. The back of the truck was pitch black, the air hot and humid. B127 ran its finger along the tight stitches in its chest. It could feel them tugging on its skin, preventing it from taking a whole breath.

The truck banked around a turn, sending the subject careening into the back of its crate and knocking the wind out of it. B127 struggled to breathe as it tried to get its bearings. The disorientation finally ended when the truck came to an abrupt halt, and B127 was thrown back to the back of the cage before being left on the floor in a painful, exhausted heap.

There was a beat of silence before the engine was cut, then the thump of metal against metal as the back of the truck was unlocked. Bright, too bright light flooded into the back of the truck as a man in work overalls walked in, blocking any view that the subject might have of the outside. A thick, dark blanket was thrown over its cage before it was wheeled out of the truck.

The cart came to a stop at the bottom of a ramp. It could hear two men talking near it. “Once you sign for it, we’ll be all good to go.”

********************************** “Dr. Brenner?” His assistant popped her head through the door to his oce. “Mr. Nesbit has a delivery for you.”

The doctor frowned. “That’s odd. Haven’t ordered any supplies recently.” He started to get up from his seat. “I'll talk to him. Thank you, Delilah.”

His brow furrowed as he headed towards the loading dock. With any other facility manager, it would have been nothing, just a labeling mistake, but Nesbit never bothered him for something trivial. The facility manager had always been very clear about that. “The work you do is important.” He would say. “I won’t distract you unless what I need is importanter.”

The door opened with a beep as Dr. Brenner swiped his card. The facility manager stood next to a blue cart. A thick, black blanket was draped over a box-like object on the cart. Brenner didn’t have to ask to know what it was. “Seriously, Logan.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve already got three.”

“The powers that be decided that you could take another one, Chase,” Nesbit said. His voice dropped real low. “They’re from Hemlock. I couldn’t turn them away.” The blood drained from Brenner’s face. Hemlock Lab’s reputation was terrible when it came to how they treated their subjects. He knew that rsthand. Every single one that had come his way had been absolutely brutalized, and he knew that this one would be no dierent. “You do great work…”

“I know.” Dr. Brenner said as he stepped behind the cart. “I’ll do it.”

********************************

B127 curls up tightly as the new man-Dr. Brenner, it thinks it overheard-pushes him over the threshold of the lab, trying to ignore the pit in its stomach. The new lab was going to be like all the others; the antiseptic smell boring into its nostrils, the chill from the high-powered ventilation systems, and the blinding lights that were amplied by the sterile white color of everything. Dr. Brenner would be worse than Dr. Glassener had been, and it was going to die.

It almost didn’t mind the thought.

“B127…” Dr. Brenner lightly tapped on the cage. “B127?” Was the doctor talking to it? When Dr. Glassener talked at it, that always meant it was going to be hurt. Usually, new doctors gave it a day to adjust, but maybe Dr. Brenner worked dierently. It didn’t really matter, in the end. It was going to be hurt anyway, did it make a dierence when? “Hey, I’m going to take of the blanket now.” B127 quickly adjusted themselves into the cramped kneeling position that they had been taught. At least the doctor had given it a warning, though. “It’s going to be bright. I’m sorry.” With that final apology, the blanket was pulled of the cage. Bright light assaulted it from every direction as Dr. Brenner unlocked the cage. It helped that the proper position for cages meant that its forehead was touching the floor, so it helped block some of the blinding light out. Patiently, it waited for the doctor to bind its outstretched hands or grab it roughly by its collar. Much to B127’s surprise, the doctor did neither of these things. Instead, he slowly reached his arms into the cage and gently scooped the subject up. It tried not to tremble as Dr. Brenner carried it into a smaller room o the large, ovular one where it had been unpackaged. This one was rectangular, with all sorts of monitors and screens on the walls, and a table in the middle. The table wasn’t like the cold metal one that Dr. Glassener had thought, it was more like the one it had gotten to lay on when it had been operated on in a real operating room. “I’m going to set you down now, okay?” Dr. Brenner gently laid B127 onto the table, then turned around to a cabinet that was mounted on the wall. B127’s heartbeat sped up.

Why was it not restrained? Surely Dr. Brenner wouldn’t forget such an important thing. Maybe that’s what the doctor was getting from the cabinet. It would be unthinkable to leave it unsecured, after all. But, when Dr. Brenner turned back around, he only had a stethoscope hung around his neck. He moved to the other corner of the room to retrieve the rolling table with instruments, pushing it to the side of the table. It tried not to inch away from the doctor. It should have known. Dr. Brenner was going to do an exploratory dissection, of course. The procedure was common practice in many laboratories, so why not here. The subject swallowed hard as the doctor pulled on a pair of gloves. If it was allowed to speak, it would’ve begged.

Tag list: @stabby-nunchucks

#pet whump #medical whump #whump rescue #restrained #collar #tw sui ideation #medic caretaker #pet whumpee #test subject #B127oc #Dr.Brenneroc #hospital setting #caretaker new master #dehumanisation tw #worlds babbles #worlds writing #the subject #conditioned whumpee

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