#o no what happenin

[braeveries]

❛ what is it ? what’s happening ? ❜ otto to mallory

Mallory falls to her hands and knees with a groan, taking in a sharp inhale. Peter's eyes widen as he rushes to the computer, typing as quickly and precisely as he can. He looks up as Otto approaches Mallory, shaking his head quickly.

❛ Doctor Octavius stop! You're putting yourself at the same risk, we need to try and handle it from here. ❜ He says quickly.

[khaotunq]

ah.

[jennycalendar]

As Jenny and Giles's correspondence blossoms into a long-distance romance, something lurks beneath the Council -- and it's got Giles in its sights.

been going through some Complicated Turmoil in my real life, which inspired me to turn back to this 'verse, which i started writing a few years back due to some Complicated Turmoil in my real life. very circular. updates to other things will likely show up whenever said turmoil dies down, but they're on the agenda! <3

anyway, this fic is because i said i had "some very loose ideas for an especially calendiles-y season seven sequel" to north star, and i do, and now i'm writing it. buckle up. <3

[kissenturine]

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 boothill x m!reader — 3.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: mechanic!reader, sub!reader, reader gives boothill a dick, reader takes away his censorship, mean dom!boothill, maybe ooc!boothill, fingering, heavy heavy dirty talk, boothill calls reader a whore & slut, boothill steps on reader's dick, blowjobs (boothill receiving), degradation. lmk if i missed anything!!

KAI SAYS: boy am i down bad for this little space cowboy

As a hardworking mechanic, you often pride yourself on your accomplishments. You—like any decent one—had many. From what you worked with to what you managed to fix, there were many things that could be considered impressive to a crowd.

None of them, however, were as impressive as the time you managed to remove Boothill’s censorship and give him back what he called: “a missing piece of his heart.”

Your dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools amongst other sharp things. Scattered about every flat surface usable is a screw, nail, wire, metal board—anything you could make use of. In the centre of the workshop is the only real space you kept clean.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a large, metallic workbench. It’s impressive, to say the least. Hooked up to an uncountable number of wires, switches and knobs decorating the sides, tools hanging from hooks, everything about it is a sight to behold.

What’s more impressive—even more magnificent—is the man sitting on top of it.

With his legs sprawled out and his head idly lolling from side to side, Boothill himself is a man to bless the eyes. The way his body worked, how each wire and sensor inside his cyborg body worked in tandem with each other to create the masterpiece that was him.

Of course, you only think like that because you’re a mechanic. You know how hard it is to put together a synesthetic body part, let alone a whole human being.

To people who don’t know the complexities of machinery, they might just think he’s a handsome cyborg. And really, they weren’t wrong. Whoever created his body, whether it was Boothill himself or another person, was quite the artist with the way they’d managed to create Boothill as a cyborg and still leave in his human charm.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Boothill grumbles, pulling you very quickly out of your thoughts. “Ya gonna continue starin’ or ya gonna actually help a guy out?” He waved at the dent in his hip, a noticeable cave to the metal plate.

“Yes, yes.” You huff. While you did find the cyborg part of Boothill impressive, his personality… not so much. He was endearing at times, but mostly he could be a pain in the ass.

A lot of the time, he’d get himself scratched and broken just to come back to you only when he’s on the brink of shutting down. Or, he’d either only come to you with the smallest, most irrelevant and easy-to-fix problems known to man.

His current state being the latter.

You make your way carefully over to Boothill, dropping to your knees beside the workbench to inspect the minimal damage done to his hip. “It’s… not even that bad.” You murmur, eyes darting up to his. “You could probably play it off as a hip dip or something.”

“Nope!” Boothill grunts, moving his metallic hand to tap against the metal of his hip. “Not happenin’ cutie. Need this body o’ mine to be in tip-top condition for my next bounty.” He grins widely, stretching his legs in front of him as he rests his arms back behind his head.

You only roll your eyes in response, already pulling out your screwdriver to replace Boothill’s so-called “broken” hip. “Whatever you say then…” You grumble, working away at the screws on the plate.

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Boothill hums, absentmindedly picking at the metal of his shoulder.

You wince at the nickname, your eyes shifting from where you’re working to Boothill’s face. “What’s with the nicknames…?” You say, voicing your curiosity. “We’ve known each other for what, six months now?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you continue. “Six months, and we're not even dating yet you always seem to use some form of a nickname.”

“Well,” Boothill hums, “the guy that made this good ol’ body of mine decided I would benefit from losing a thing or two. Those bein’ my ability to swear and of course my clock.”

“Your… clock?” You give him a confused look as you screw the metal back into place, finishing off his new hip.

“No, no, cutie, not an actual clock.” Boothill rolls his eyes. “My, uh, manhood, ya know?”

“Your…” You trail off. “Oh.”

He grins at you, opening his legs widely on the table. “Look if ya want, I got nothin’ to hide down there.” He gives you a wink before leaning further into your workbench.

You glance down at his crotch and see that it is, indeed, very flat. I guess what he said is true then…

You’re about to pick up your tools when you hear Boothill call for you, his name dropping from his lips. “Hey, uh, you don’t happen to have any o’ those synesthetic clocks, do ya?”

You give Boothill a blank look. While you did have a few lying around, as per a customer who was willing to pay a hefty price of seven million credits for one, you didn’t think Boothill would want one.

“Yeah…” You eventually respond. “I do.”

Boothill’s eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. “Oh, mother fudgin’!” He says before eagerly jumping off the workbench. “Please,” he begs, “ya gotta hook me up with one! Haven’t felt it in so long, ‘s like a piece of my heart’s been missing!”

You cringe at his choice of terminology before looking up at the pleading man. “Well, they cost a hefty price—”

“I’m willin’ t’pay!” Boothill cries, the same pleading tone still present in his voice. “Please, anythin’ for my clock back!”

“I—y’know what, fine.” You grumble, not having the energy to think up an argument. You wave your hand at your workbench. “Sit on the edge while I grab one. I’m just gonna assume you want the biggest size.”

You hear the faint rumble of Boothills laugh. “Oh, darlin’ you know me so well!”

You roll your eyes, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer where you kept your synesthetic… manhoods. You eye them all, cautiously taking one on the very left end before closing the drawer and going back up to Boothill.

“So.” You say, holding the synesthetic member awkwardly in front of Boothill. “Eight inches, pretty thick, the colour an’ design of the metal goes pretty well with your cyborg parts, I think it matches you.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Boothill grins, his sharp teeth shining under the light. “Now that's what I’m talking about. Can’t wait to have my fudgin’ shift back.”

You roll your eyes at the censorship before tapping Boothill’s knee. “Spread your legs, gotta get to you if you want me to actually put this on.”

Boothill gives you a teasing look and you already know what he’s about to comment on. “If you wanted to see my new duck in action, ya could’ve jus’ asked.” He grins and you roll your eyes again. Just what you predicted.

“Shut up and spread your legs.” You say, a harsh tone evident in your voice. This time Boothill complies, his knees spreading as you once again take your place, kneeling on the floor—this time between his legs.

Slowly, you unscrew the metal panel on Boohill’s crotch area.

Once it’s fully out, you take a peek into the hole you just opened, trying to grasp what you’re working with. You puff out your cheeks, sighing as you peer into the hole between Boothill’s legs.

There’s an assortment of jumbled wires, a few switches, and—is that a remote control? With two fingers, you manage to pry your way into the cavity in Boothill’s crotch. Lithly and carefully, you pull the remote from the little clasp it was stuck in before sliding it out.

You inspect it cautiosly, taking note of how there’s only one singular switch on the flat of it. You contemplate flipping it, but then it crosses your mind that touching random things that came from inside Boothill’s body wasn’t the best idea.

Setting the remote to the side for later, you continue your work with Boothill’s new member.

Carefully, very, very carefully, you attach each wire to the base of Boothill’s new appendage, making sure everything is kept neat and tidy. With a quick glance up at Boothill, you can instantly tell he’s at least somewhat relaxed.

“Boothill.” You call, tapping the inside of his metal thigh. “I’m gonna connect the synesthesia now, so you might get a bit…” You cough awkwardly. “Aroused… But just ignore it and try not to like—y’know, cum all over my face.”

Boothill grins down at you, once again flashing you his sharp teeth. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ve got some self-control.”

You nod your head, cautiously pushing the two wires together. The instant you twist them into place, you hear Boothill let out a loud groan. “Fudge, I missed this.” He murmurs, his dick twitching to life right in front of your face.

The sight, being able to watch as the new tip of his metal cock twitches and lifts, sends a shiver down your spine—one you chose to ignore as much as possible. Your hands go back to his shaft, gently pressing a screw in and Boothill lets out a loud hiss, his dick twitching in your hand.

“Darlin’ you’re teasin’ me.” He grunts before peering down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You don’t say anything, making sure to work carefully at his dick, making sure everything is functioning. As you trail your hand along the underside of his shaft, Boothill’s thigh twitches, pushing against your head and forcing your face closer to his cock.

You let out a squeal of surprise, eyes darting up to Boothill, whose face is flushed a warm pink with his teeth pulled between his lips. “Didn’t know this would affect you this much.” You murmur, a playful edge in your voice. You hate to admit it, but you’re already half-hard from being so close to Boothill and working on him in such an… intimate way.

“Shut it, darling.’” The cyborg grunts, and you laugh at the way his hands curl into fists beside him. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“I can tell.” You hum, tapping his tip a few times and smirking at the loud groan that leaves his lips.

“Fudging—” Boothill grunts, his hand grabbing tightly at your shoulder as you stand up. “Such a fudgin’ tease, aren’t ya, sweetie?”

“Dunno what you're talking about Boothill.” You say, feigning innocence. Sitting up from your kneeling position you grab the remote. “Any idea what this is?” You question, showing it to Boothill.

He eyes it carefully before shrugging. “Nah, got no clue.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You huff. “Cause I found it inside you.”

Boothill gapes at you, his jaw going slack. “Inside me!?” He roars. “And you just—just took it out!? What if I need that to live?!”

“Relax, cowboy,” you groan, his loud voice getting on your nerves slightly, “it wasn’t connected to anything, and you seem pretty fine now.”

Boothill glares at you seemingly having forgotten about his rock-hard erection standing tall against his metal abs. “Give it here.” He says, making a ‘give’ motion with his fingers. He practically snatches it from your hand the instant you’re within arm's reach, his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer as he grabs at the remote. “Hmm…” He hums, inspecting it in his hands. Slowly, he slides the panel down, revealing two short words that make the two of you gasp.

“Censorship… Control.” Boothill reads, and you instantly snatch the remote into your hands.

“Hey!” Boothill yells! “Wait a darn minute—I need that!”

“No,” you respond flatly, “you don’t. Whoever built in that censorship must’ve done it for a reason—”

“Yeah!” Boothill grunts. “To annoy the fudge outa me!” He growls again, desperately trying to reach for the remote again. “Oh, fudgin’ give it! What’ll it take for you to give me the darn thing?!”

You grin.

Finally, he asked.

“I think a good enough payment would be to test out this new dick of yours.”

Boothill’s expression turns from anger and annoyance to a smirk in the blink of an eye. His hands are no longer grabbing at the remote, and instead resting on your waist. “Oh?” He coos. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He smirks, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “But a test drive would be so much more fun if I had my swearin’ back. Think of all the dirty lil’ things I could say to you, hm?”

Your face flushes as you feel Boothill’s cool breath fan over your ear. “I bet you'd really like if I turned it off, be able to swear to your heart’s content” You do your best to stand your ground, ignoring the blood that rushes to your cock and the way your pants grow tight. “But I think I can think of a better way to put your mouth to use.”

Boothill growls lowly, his grip moving from your waist to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze. “Turn it off and I might just show you what this mouth of mine is capable of.”

“Hmph.” You grunt. “Fine. Let's see how dirty this mouth of yours can get, Boothill." You whisper, your warm breath fanning over his chest. With that, you’re flicking his censorship off, once again leaving Boothill free to say whatever he wants.

“Atta boy.” He growls.

Boothill’s eyes narrow as you flick the remote, effectively ending his censorship. Your face flushes, watching his lips pull into a wide grin as he grips your ass, tugging down your pants and leaving them dropped at your ankles. “Don’t worry whore, I’ll show you just how good I am.” Boothill growls, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll have you screaming my name while you’re wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You don’t say anything, only moving to press your face further into his neck.

“I’ll tell you every dirty word, every filthy thought that crosses my mind while I pound into your tight fuckin’ hole.” Boothill groans, starting to tug down your boxers too.

And suddenly, like he only now could process the extent that he could speak, Boothill is tugging you away from him only to press his lips harshly into you, murmuring into the kiss as he does. “You little slut, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re stuffed fuckin’ full of my dick. You’ll be drenched in your own cum, worshiping my cock, begging for more.” He lets out a loud groan, pulling away. “And don’t think you can fuckin’ hide, ‘cause I’ll take you right here an’ now, on your stupid workbench.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, watching the sight of your absolute arousal dripping down your dick.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ hard.” He wraps his palm around your cock, giving it a sharp tug before pulling his hand away only to return with a sharp slap against your tip. “Bet you’d pull your pants down for anyone on the street, like a common whore.”

You whine, knees buckling at the slap. You collapse onto Boothill’s chest, letting out a plethora of pathetic sounds as you do.

“Aww.” Boothill coos, lifting your chin to face him. “This weak already?”

He grips your body, getting off your workbench only to lay you on top of it. You lay flat on your tummy, with you face pressed into the thin padding of the workbench.

“You’re gonna be a good boy now, an’ take what I give you, ‘kay?” Boothil says, bending your knees to push your ass into the air. His finger teases your puckered hole, tracing your rim, but never pushing anything in,

“Boothill.” You whine. “Put it in already!”

“What’d I say?” Boothill growls, bringing down a hand against your ass in a harsh spank. “That you’re gonna take what?”

“T-Take what you give me!” You whine, pressing your face into the cushion in embarrassment.

You can’t believe what’s currently happening. Here you are, face down and your ass in the air as Boothill eases a finger into your tight hole, occasionally giving mean spanks against your balls and ass.

Eventually, Boothill presses his first finger in. The feeling makes you gasp out, your back arching against the workbench. His fingers are so thick. You whine out, instinctively rocking your hips against his fingers.

“That’s it.” Boothill praises, bringing a hand to rub your back gently. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, like a good lil’ slut.” He presses in another finger, beginning to match the pace of your hips as he curls them.

He thrusts them in and out, and in and out until you’re seeing stars. Your eyes are rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as you moan and writhe against Boothill’s hand. He curls his fingers, easily finding your prostate and laughing cruelly when your dick twitches.

“Fuck, you’re so easy.” He moans, watching you fuck against his fingers. Slowly, he grabs his new metal dick, dragging the cool tip across the crack of your ass. You whine, your eyes squeezing shut at the cold sensation.

“Boothill!” You moan out. “D-Don’t stop, I—I’m so close!”

“Oh?” He questions. “And who told you that you had any right to tell me what to do?”

Just like that, he’s pulling his fingers away from you. You’re a whining, crying mess at that. Sobbing about how you needed his fingers, his dick, his anything to make you come. “Please!” You beg. “Need t’cum so badly!”

“Really?” Boothill smirks. “If that’s really what you want…” He tugs you off the workbench, watching you fall to the floor into a pathetic heap. “Then beg me for it.”

You nod eagerly, instantly getting on your knees and kissing against Boothill’s hard cock. The rough concrete of the floor is painful against your bare knees, but you can make due.

You’re quick to take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool metal before pressing your lips slightly lower. Your tongue presses down, forced to drag along his underside the more you take him in.

You blink up at Boothill, tears welling in your eyes as you plead with him to help you. Help you. Use you. It didn’t matter.

Boothill lets out a tsk before grabbing your hair harshly. “What happened to my smart mechanic I knew so well? When’d he get replaced by this cock-hungry bitch who can’t even suck dick to save his life?”

At that, Boothill’s pressing your face all the way down. Your nose pokes at the cold metal of his pelvis before he’s pulling you back and thrusting his dick deep down your throat. He sets a quick pace, fucking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a fleshlight for him to use and throw away at his disposal.

Your jaw hangs slack, tongue forcefully dragging along the metal of his cock. Drool slips from your lips but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your mouth is being stuffed so full. Boothill’s pace quickens and you moan weakly around his cock, feeling something poke at your own.

From what you manage to see through the corner of your eye, Boothill is stepping on your dick, rubbing the sole of his dirty shoe against your tip as it leaks precum all over the rough concrete. The feeling of his shoe on your dick, his cock stuffing your mouth—it’s all enough to send you over the edge.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your cock twitching pathetically under Boothill’s shoe as you shoot ropes of cum from your tip. Some of it sticks to the bottom of his shoe, and some squirts farther. Boothill laughs, rubbing his shoe harder into your dick, watching you whine around his cock.

“C’mon slut, you can take it. This is the payment you wanted, so don’t go crying on me now.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

cannot stop thinking about Niffty and Vaggie chilling out playing darts together

except it's with knives, and they're giggling, and it's with Vaggie holding her permanently got-impaled-by-heavnly-steel hand up to the dart board, and it's Charlie walking right as Niffty takes her throw

Charlie: "Hey guys! Husk is wondering if you want another round of-"

Niffty: (throws knife through charlie's gf's hand)

Charlie: "-ffffffffaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAaAAAHGHGHGHGH?!!!?!"

Vaggie: "Wooo yeaaaaahh!"

Niffty: "SCOOOOORE! Oh hi Charlie~!"

Charlie: "AArGH???"

Vagige: "Babe you gotta come check this out."

Charlie: "VAGGIE WHAT THE- what are- your HAND-!"

Vaggie: "Cool huh?"

Charlie: "C O O L ?? You've been impaled!!!"

Vaggie: "Yeah I have, that's the point."

Niffty: "the POINT... heeheeheee~"

Demon Charlie: "NiFFTy."

Niffty: (gets grabbed)

Niffty: "AHAHAHA!! I'm in danger!"

Vaggie: "Okay whoa sweetie, maybe don't toast the employee-"

Niffty: "TOAST ME- hrrk!"

Vaggie: "And don't snap her neck either!"

Charlie: "She. HURT-"

Vaggie: "She didn't hurt me. Look, see? No blood. She put the knife right through Lute's stab wound."

Charlie: "....and that's a GOOD thing???"

Vaggie: "Sure! She got a hole in one!"

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: "A hole... in one..."

Charlie: (drops niffty)

Niffty: "Wheee-!" (SPLAT)

Vaggie: "Babe? Uh, Charlie..? Where're you going?"

Charlie: "Bar. I'm.... getting another round of drinks from Husk."

Vaggie: "But you haven't even asked what we want-"

Charlie: "It's not FOR you." (staggers off)

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "...Did I just traumatize my girlfriend?"

Niffty: "Naaaah, the trauma was already there, we just POKED at it enough for her to go cry all over Husk's countertops about it."

Vaggie: "So I should probably let her do that huh."

Niffty: "Once she's done crying, THEN you can hug her!"

Vaggie: "Or I could go hug her right now..."

Niffty: "OR you could let me see if I can put a knife between each of your fingers AND get a hole in one!!"

Vaggie: "...i guess... venting to other people did help her out a lot last time..."

Niffty: "Hole! In! One!"

Vaggie: "Hole. In. One."

Niffty: "BLOOD OR GLORY!!!"

Vaggie: "TRUST AND ACCURACY!!!!"

Niffty: "AND KNIVES!!!!!!!"

-at the bar-

Charlie: "It's gooooood she's gotta close friend, y'know? It is, so grrrreaaaat that they're bonding. Throwin'... throwin' knives right through her new unhealing and eternal puncture wound....."

Husk: "Wait the fuck, they're doing what now?"

Charlie: "....another something that Lute and heaven did to her....that I wasn't there to stop from happenin'...."

Husk: "Shit."

Charlie: "An' now she's playing parlor games with it! Yay!"

Husk: "This is the least fucking 'yay' I've ever fucking seen you."

Charlie: "That's like, free therapy for her though! Right!?"

Husk: "No, but this is."

Husk: (pours drink) "Here."

Charlie: (takes bottle) "Thank- hic-s!!"

[eveningspringbreeze]

A First Step, Towards Friendship

Season: Spring (ES!! second year)

Characters: Kohaku, Hiiro, Madara

Hiiro and Kohaku: Nom nom….

Hiiro: Ah, I accidentally got some on the table. Could you get a wipe, Kohaku-san?

Kohaku: ‘Course, here ya go. Ya gotta open yer mouth big an’ wide so that ya don't spill crumbs. 

Hiiro: Thank you, I’ll take note of that! 

Kohaku: (...He looks ‘bout as normal a boy as they come when he’s eatin’ breakfast, huh)

(The Hiiro-han I saw durin’ Matrix astonished me so much that I can’t help but incessantly worry away just from bein’ near him) 

(He disciplines in a way that dredges up memories of my sisters… or particularly, the way he made us prepare for all kinds o’ things) 

(He dived headfirst into playin’ villain just so Crazy:B could secure the first win)

(There sure were lotsa things happenin’ in the Amagi village, but by far my biggest shocker would be…) 

Hiiro: Umu. Today’s bread was baked wonderfully. It was so delicious. Maybe I should get seconds? 

Kohaku: (whispering) With that face, he follows every rule to an absolute. He forces everyone to follow them with him, an’ any opposition turns him into a terrifyin’ lad)

(Like say, were there to be a rule that determined that all breakfasts shall be bread, what would Hiiro-han do?) 

(Would he even go as far as to tell me, who’s currently eatin’ rice, to have bread instead?) 

Phew. I got so caught up with these stupid ideas that simply eatin’ breakfast took far too long. 

???: I’m hooooome!!!! ☆ I’m so thirsty after running! 

Kohaku: Mm… no doubt, that’s Madara-han’s voice. G’mornin’. 

Madara: Ohh, if it isn’t Kohaku-san! Goooood morniiiiing! ☆

Kohaku: Yer always so damn loud. 

Anyhow, there’s somethin’ I wanted to ask… 

Would ya rather have rice or bread for breakfast? 

Madara: …Hmm? That’s quite the unexpected question. 

Have you been wondering about what food I like? I’m so happy to hear that ♪

Kohaku: Ah, no, this ain’t the type o’ question that should be thrillin’ ya. Not like I’ll die without yer answer anyhow. 

Madara: Now now, don't be shy and say it with your chest! "I'm dyin' to make breakfast for Madara-han", right? ♪

Kohaku: Who’s sayin’ what? And the same goes to you. Rather than "accidentally" pullin’ it outta me, can'tcha just ask directly? Y'know, "Why is Kohaku-san asking me something like this, hmm?"

Anyhow, I’ll explain… I was eatin’ with Hiiro-han just now. 

So we were in the Matrix project, where this an’ that happened… Now, I’ve got this slightly odd relationship with Hiiro-han. 

Madara: Mmhm. I see, I get the situation now. 

Oh, to think that Kohaku-san would consult me for relationship advice ♪

Mama’s delighted! Moved beyond words! So happy, in fact, that I feel inclined to ruffle Kohaku-san’s head ☆

Kohaku: Uwaah!? Stop! 

Actually, what’s with this weirdass attitude? Are ya makin’ fun of me, ya jerk? 

Madara: Hahaha, who’s to say? 

Anyway. Personally, I’d say that becoming friends with Hiiro-san could alleviate much of your worries, Kohaku-san. 

Kohaku: Friends? 

Madara: Yep. For example… if Hiiro-san were to invite you to a meal, you wouldn’t turn him down, right? 

Kohaku: Well, I ‘spose so. We were eatin’ together earlier too. 

Madara: Then, let’s extend it from within the Starmony dorms to ES as a whole. What would you do if he asked you to go shopping with him? Turn him down? 

Kohaku: Maybe if I had other plans… ‘sides that, I don’t see a reason to not go. 

Madara: Yep. So basically, you two are already on pretty decent terms. 

But what would you consider Hiiro-san to be to you? 

Is he an acquaintance from a different unit? Or perhaps someone close to a good friend of yours? …Try taking a step back to reevaluate. 

Kohaku: That’s true. Who knows whether or not Rabu-han an’ I have the same thoughts on this person. 

Madara: I’m also assuming that, since whatever happened during Matrix, your thoughts on him have complicated since. 

You two may be on relatively good terms, but with your perspective, it seems you can’t quite put a good name to your relationship. 

And that’s exactly why if you were able to get to a point where you could start calling him a “friend”, you could reforge your relationship with him entirely. 

Kohaku: Woah… I’d never expected you to give such sound advice. 

Madara: ….That’s odd. I’m supposed to be your older senpai with plenty of life experience under my belt, no?

Kohaku: My bad. I just didn’t expect the friendless Madara-han to be the one advisin’ me on makin’ friends. 

Madara: Hrm… what was that about me making fun of you earlier? 

Kohaku: Ahaha! ‘Course, I think I can do this with yer idea. Thank ya kindly ♪

Now, I’ll call Hiiro-han right away—

Hiiro: This… is a store selling idol merchandise, yes? 

Did you want to come to this store with me, Kohaku-san? 

Kohaku: It must’ve been a doozy to be called an’ brought here so suddenly, sorry ‘bout that. 

I was just glad to have gotten in touch with ya… but the only spot I can think for bringin’ “friends” is this idol goods store. (2)

Hiiro: “Friends”? 

Kohaku: Mmhm. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout wantin’ to be such with ya, Hiiro-han. 

I thought of talkin’ it out with fists too, since I reckon that a playfight could bring us closer. 

Hiiro: With fists? Playfight? 

Kohaku: Ah, I’m just talkin’ to myself. Don’t worry ‘bout that. 

…So far, I believe you and I’ve been toddlin’ along on just “being on decent terms”. 

What do you think ‘bout callin’ each other “friends” from now on? 

We’ve even worked together as one unit before, so how ‘bout we continue workin' together? 

I’d never really tried to make friends before, so I may slip an’ say weird things from time to time. If that’s okay with you…. how about it? 

Hiiro: ….Umu! I’d love to, Kohaku-san! 

Kohaku: Really? 

Hiiro: Of course ♪ You’re a close friend of Aira’s, so I assumed that the two of us were already friends. 

But now that I think about it, I never did walk up to you and go, “let’s be friends!”, did I? 

From now on, as newfound friends… I’ll be in your care, Kohaku-san ♪

Kohaku: Ahaha, shakin’ hands as proof of our friendship, huh. What a nice feelin’ ♪

I planned on the two of us just goin’ shopping as friends, but I’d like ta hear more ‘bout ya, Hiiro-han. 

Do you have any other friends, like Hinata-han? What hobbies do you have, and what do ya usually talk about? Can ya tell me?

Hiiro: Of course! Let’s shop and chat away! 

Kohaku: Thanks, Hiiro-han. As friends, from now on… I’ll be in yer care ♪

—--------------------

Translation Notes

Callback to Aira's FS1 4* story, "Novices in Friendship", where Aira brings Kohaku to presumably the exact same merch store. 

Thank you for reading! This is not proofread at the moment, but this was such a cute story that I had to translate it!! ^^ 

[ang3lc]

hi!!! I was wondering if I could get some headcanons from task force 141 (separately) about finding out their s/o’s ex boyfriend was abusive and how they would react, maybe their s/o would joke about the things he did but didn’t realize the severity, thanks so much :)

ahhh!!! my first ask, thank you! I'd love to write this for ya! hope you like it :p

summary -  TF141 finds out their s/o was in an abusive relationship…

⟡ wordcount - 1.8k-ish

⟡ warnings - gn!reader [usage of love, bonnie, babe, hun, but no actual fem prns], smidge of angst, fluff, making light of toxicity/abus!ve behavior, trauma responses, swearing, established!relationship, tf141xreader

SIMON RILEY

Simon knew your previous relationship had some…. Difficulties. When you first started dating, he could sense something darker about you. Something latent within you. He always had a sort of six-sense for these kinda things - a sense for people like him.

He didn’t want to pry- oh god no. If he accidentally triggered something within you and hurt you? He wouldn’t ever forgive himself. 

Eventually you had revealed how much of a prick your previous boyfriend was. You, however, failed to leave out the fact that the arsehole would leave you acutely aware of your surroundings at all times, sudden behavioral changes, and most notably, incredibly numb to all.

“Si?” You asked through his closed door, your knuckles gently rapping against the cool aluminum. With the rustle of sheets and some shuffling, Simon opened the door with a smile on his face at the sight of you. 

“ ‘ey hun… What’s happenin’?” Simon grumbled in his usual fashion. He was clad in his blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt that always dwarfed you. 

“Think you could help me out in the kitchen?” You said sheepishly… You had been trying to make a nice dinner, but heaven forbid someone puts key ingredients on an accessible shelf. He nods and follows you to the kitchen. Enveloped by the warmth of the room, as well as the delicious smell that emanated, he was also… astonished by the plethora of ingredients that were strewn across the counter.

“You cookin’ for an army?” He said gravelly, eyeing the counter, but not really paying too much mind. Who was he to complain when he was able to share a home cooked meal with his love? He circled the counter to stand next to you, noticing how you peered up at a rather high shelf. He wordlessly reached for the item you were peering at and placed it on the counter.

“Maybe,” you smiled cheekily, making your way back to the various pots and pans on the stove, Simon lingering behind you as he watched, leaning against the island, “I could cook like this all the time if you really want me to, I don’t mind.” Simply stated. 

“Had no idea you were much of a cook.” He replied, seriously considering your offer. The man was constantly thinking with his pitless stomach, and boy was the offer tempting. 

“Long as I don’t get popped for not havin’ the table set at 7, it’s fine with me.” You laughed, stirring the sauce you were making.

Crickets.

Simon maneuvered to stand directly behind you, his gentle hand feathering over your shoulder. 

“What..?” He replied quietly. Quieter than usual….. Definitely quieter than usual. 

You turned around, looking at him. Breathing a laugh, you looked at him casually, searching his eyes that slowly grew concerned.

“What?” You said right back to him. Your eyes searched his nervously, a familiar constriction in your throat. “...Did I do something wrong..?”

Now, Simon was never one to jump to conclusions, but why else would you have said that? Such a specific scenario and thing to say… He knew it almost immediately. He knew your last relationship was rocky, but… getting… hit? He nearly vomited at the thought. His mind raced with thoughts as he searched your eyes, not noticing that his own began to water. 

“Simon… Are you okay…?”

He stared incredulously. Why would you ask if he was okay? Rather than yourself? Are you okay?

“Love,” he inhaled, holding himself together, “...What’d that fuckin’ monster do to ya…?” 

He had taken the lives of a thousand men without a thought or protest in his mind. But now? He could feel his hands clam up. 

When your posture crumbled; when the look in your eyes shifted at his words, he knew. You didn’t have to say a thing. Your eyes matched his now, tears brimming in both like a dam littered with cracks. 

With a tremble of your lip and a shaky inhale, he engulfed you, pulling you into his chest before you could speak. 

“Not a thing in this world’ll hurt you again.”

JOHNNY MACTAVISH

It was no secret that Johnny had a difficult job. Probably one of the hardest, at that. He had tried so hard to keep you shielded from it, trying to keep “Soap” and Johnny separate, for your sake. 

2 months in the jungle, the man nearly became tarzan. He could barely keep in contact with you, constantly under a thick canopy in the hottest, most humid environment you could think of. 

It was nothing new for you. You knew he’d always come back home to you. The usual “coming home routine” for the two of you was as follows:

1) Johnny walks through the door, embodying death and exhaustion

2) You pamper him and shower him with affection

3) Life resumes as normal until he’s deployed

You had the routine down to a “T” after some time, so when the door opened with a soft click and you saw him in the front doorway, not a single one of Newton's laws stopped you from launching yourself at him. 

He genuinely had not seen you coming. An understatement to say you startled him. 

He was still in his work mindset, causing him to reflexively shove you off of him, causing you to land on the floor with a painful thud. 

He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. The second he did it, he realized that no one else could have tackled him like that, except for you. 

“Bon…” He started, but he cut himself off after seeing the look on your face. You stared at him with a look he’s never seen. Sadness? Sure… But something else was there… Fear? Had he really shoved you that hard?

He moved toward you slowly, but he was beaten as you scampered and gathered yourself up faster than he could process. Before he could blink, the door to your shared room was slammed shut, with the click of a lock. 

He gathered himself, rubbing his face with his hands as he sighed at himself. A bloody fuckin’ idiot. He made his way to the door that shielded you behind it, pressing his ear to it as he gently knocked.

“Lovie… Ahm sorry… ya startled me…” He sighed defeatedly, his forehead leaning against the door. He could hear your sniffles and shuffles. 

“I just…I… I missed… ‘m sorry… sorry” 

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t the person he fell in love with, and he knew it instantly. 

“Bonnie… ‘m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…” He said through the door, trying to be as soothing as possible. 

After about 20 minutes, the door cracked open, your eyes peeking through the small crack, seeing Johnny sat against the wall, his head lulled forward. He had fallen asleep. 

You opened the door fully and sat next to him on the wall, your head finding his shoulder. He woke up at the feeling, immediately turning to you.

“ ‘M sorry love… You can tackle me all ya want… I promise… I’ll never do that again… So sorry Bon…”

JOHN PRICE

The mission went wrong. Wrong in every possible way. Their intel had been completely wrong, causing the whole Task Force to be caught in an absolute gridlocked nightmare.

Instead of an easy in-and-out, the whole OP was doomed from the start, he knew it when the LZ was hotter than the surface of the sun. 

Despite that, the whole team managed to complete the objective. It wasn’t until you all were making your way to the exfil point suspiciously smoothly when something stirred in your stomach. Something was off. Taking out your sniper, you scanned the tree line ahead.

Your gut was right. The thermal scope picked up on about 20 snipers hiding in plain sight. The second you noticed them, you picked up a glare out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you turned and took out the sniper aiming at your captain. The bang alerted the enemies in the treeline. You jumped up and threw yourself over your Captain, your boyfriend.

Bullets wisped over your collapsed frames, the rest of the team had followed suit. But your action had ignited a gunfight, prolonging your exfil and risking all of your lives. 

“In my office. 10 minutes.” Price had whispered to you as you left the debriefing room. You knew it would happen, so you made your way over 10 minutes later, ready for him to either kick you off the team, or suspend you from it. You knocked on his door and entered after a grunt of acknowledgement. 

A cigar sat in his hands as the smoke billowed from his mouth. You sat down in front of his desk, trying to read the situation. He turned his head up to you.

“How is it that you’ve made it this far in the military, making stupid decisions like that?”

“I..” Speechless.

“Do you know what you could’ve cost us?”

“I do but-” You held your tongue. 

He stood up, his frustration clearly bubbling to the surface.

“You could have died because of a decision that you have no authority to make.”

“I was trying to-” He cut you off.

“What were you THINKING?!”

“I WAS TRYING TO MAKE SURE YOU DIDN’T DIE!” You let it go.

“THAT’S NOT YOUR FUCKIN’ CHOICE.”

“STOP FUCKING SCREAMING!” You screamed back.

Within the span of the 20 second interaction, you had been reduced to tears, shaking like a leaf. 

Yes, this man was your captain, but he was also your boyfriend, and he had never raised his voice to you like that. To his other men? Sure. But to you? Never. 

You also hadn’t ever raised your voice to him like that, always softer spoken, yet your words were always meaningful and self-assured.

His eyes softened at your state, how you made yourself small, how the tears streamed down your face. You gently sat back in the seat parallel to his desk with your arms laced in front of yourself. 

He noticed how your thumbs drummed against your arms, how your eyes glued their focus to the floor, how your body would shake every few seconds - a violent tremor. 

He slowly circled the desk, and kneeled next to the chair. You had completely dissociated, and he truly didn’t know what to do. The only thing he knew was that he fucked up. He gently placed his hand over the vice grip you had on your own arm, you flinched.

God he could just die at the sight of you like this. You were inconsolable. He could only sit next to you, waiting for you to come back to reality. Waiting for you to come back to him. 

KYLE GARRICK

I simply cannot write gaz with any form of angst i am so sorry, but take these awesome pics from pinterest :p

masterlist

[jmagnabo92]

Sirius Vs Remus last interaction with Harry in POA

With all this conversation about who's the better parent, the better guide to Harry, I'd like to address the LAST MOMENT in POA with Sirius vs Remus and WHY Harry ends up closer to Sirius and it has NOTHING to do with his 'status' as godfather and everything to do with their behavior directly after Harry discovers their relationship to his father.

Long Post under the cut.

First, Remus' last moment with Harry:

A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them. "Know I shouldn' feel happy, after wha' happened las' night," he said. "I mean, Black escapin' again, an, everythin' -- but guess what?" "What?" they said, pretending to look curious. "Beaky! He escaped! He's free! Bin celebratin' all night!" "That's wonderful!" said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing. "Yeah. . . can't've tied him up properly," said Hagrid, gazing happily out over the grounds. "I was worried this mornin', mind. . . thought he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin' las' night. . . . " "What?" said Harry quickly. "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er -- Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'. . . . Thought everyone'd know by now. . . Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night. . . . He's packin' now, o' course. " "He's packing?" said Harry, alarmed. "Why?" "Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again."

Let's stop here - I included this part because it tells us something EXTREMEMLY important - Remus was going to LEAVE without even talking to Harry. He had NO intention of talking to Harry or explaining what happened. He had NO intention of following up on their relationship and build on it - he was just going to leave after ALL that.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "I'm going to see him," he said to Ron and Hermione. "But if he's resigned --" "¨C doesn't sound like there's anything we can do --" "I don't care. I still want to see him. I'll meet you back here."

This tells us that Harry wanted a relationship with Remus, and expected to have one. Only for Remus to disappoint him.

Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door. "I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map. "I just saw Hagrid," said Harry. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?" "I'm afraid it is," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

Here we have proof that Remus knows that HARRY would reach out to him - yet, he doesn't reciprocate. He sees Harry's upset about it and he just ... keeps packing. Using the Map to see Harry do just that.

"Why?" said Harry. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?" Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. "No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives. " He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he -- er -- accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast." "You're not leaving just because of that!" said Harry. Lupin smiled wryly. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents. . . . They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you. . . . That must never happen again." "You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" said Harry. "Don't go!"

Here Lupin simply answers the question matter-of-factly and in fact, seems to expect that Harry would be affronted on his behalf. What's interesting here is that Lupin KNOWS that Harry has formed this bond with him and still makes what happened about him. Even though he ENDANGERED the kids ALL YEAR, here he focuses on the night before which was the most dangerous moment, and while he's doing the responsible thing but resigning and making it about the parents reaction to his condition feels like a ploy to make Harry feel sympathetic towards him. He didnot want him to feel like he screwed him over by not telling him about his parents, Sirius (and hiding something if it Sirius HAD been after him would've gotten him killed), and by slipping up the night before.

Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned. . . . Tell me about your Patronus." "How d'you know about that?" said Harry, distracted. "What else could have driven the Dementors back?" Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again. "Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "You guessed right. . . that's why we called him Prongs."

Okay. Here's Lupin's opportunity to talk to Harry - an orphan and his best friends' kid - about James and he doesn't take it. He just said - oh yeah, that's what he turned into.

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry. "Here -- I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. "And. . . " He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it." Harry took the map and grinned. "You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school. . . you said they'd have thought it was funny." "And so we would have," said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle."

Here, this feels very manipulative. Of course, if he didn't give the map/cloak back to Harry, James and Sirius would be pissed - that's his birthright. But It's pretty obvious that just like the other times that Remus uses James against Harry (Like when he discovers the Map - months previously - and he says 'I don't think your {dead} parents would appreciate you gambling their sacrifices for a bag of magic tricks'), that this time, he's using him to stay in Harry's good eyes. Especially given his parting statement.

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket. It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn't look surprised to see Harry there. "Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he said. "Thank You, Headmaster. " Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. "Well -- good-bye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage. . . . " Harry had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible. "Good-bye, then, Remus," said Dumbledore soberly. Lupin shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift smile, Lupin left the office.

Now, finally, the end of his last moment in POA - note that he says goodbye, says he was pleased to teach Harry, and THEN SAYS:

"I feel sure we'll meet again, sometime."

What does this tell us? That Lupin - Despite being around for a WHOLE YEAR & creating a relationship with Harry - DOESN'T WANT to continue the relationship. He "feels like" they'll see each other - he doesn't say anything about 'I'll write you' or 'you can write me' - he basically makes it SO FREAKING CLEAR that he's done. He came into Harry's life and plans to disappear. There's no excuse for this (especially given book 4) and THIS is exactly why Remus isn't a "Parent" - he's not a "honorary godfather" and he's TERRIBLE.

Harry can tell in this interaction that he's just a professor, just Lupin, nothing else.

It just makes it obvious that he doesn't really care for Harry, so he wouldn't be a parent and doesn't deserve all of that 'Lupin was a better option', Lupin 'should've been godfather', etc.

***

Now, Sirius' last moment with Harry:

Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, "It's from Sirius!" "What?" said Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!" Dear Harry, I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt --

Let's stop here. First, Sirius makes sure to send Harry the letter when he's alone. I bet he's thinking Harry's going to do exactly what he does with regards to Aunt/Uncle because he KNOWS based on Harry's quick acceptance of moving in with him & the runaway situation at the start of the book.

Then, he immediately tells him that he's safe because he knows that Harry was worried about him enough to go through time, so he assures him that he's fine.

Next, he tells him that he's thinking about him and the affect of everything that's happened and how he plans to fix it SPECIFICALLY so that HARRY is safer after he put him at risk. He takes responsibility and does whatever he can to make up for it.

And while Remus acknowledged that he was at fault, he also put it off on 'Snape let it slip and I have no choice'.

THEN knowing that Harry was probably wondering about the Firebolt - he tells him what he did. Proving that he's been watching over and caring for Harry even from a distance.

"Ha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See! I told you it was from him!" "Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me. I'll write again soon. Sirius

Now, for the rest of the letter.

Sirius explains about the Firebolt and how DESPITE being in prison, he immediately wanted to make up for missing 13 years of Harry's like buying the Firebolt (which is noteworthy because Remus ALSO missed 13 years, and does nothing - and he could've done OTHER things besides a gift like pictures or letters or stories...).

Anyway, then, even though Harry probably didn't even remember that night he ran away, Sirius points out that the FIRST thing he thought of on getting out of prison was to CHECK ON HARRY.

He's been tortured for 12 years and has a mission to get the rat and his priority is check on his kid! And if he could do it - so could Remus. Anyway, he TELLS Harry what he did and what he wanted - just a glimpse to make sure he was okay - and then *apologies* - he's one of the few adults that does.

Then, lastly, he tells Harry's he's been paying attention by enclosing the Hogsmeade slip and ASSURES him that he WILL be writing soon and that Harry SHOULD write to him.

This IS SO OPPOSITE TO REMUS!

Sirius - I'm here for you, I'll write, you should too.

Remus - Eh, bye I'll see you around.

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he'd swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp. I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. "That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's a PS. . . . " I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat. Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. "Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. "What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine. " Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed. "I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion. "What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another --" "It's not," said Harry cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather. " "Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!" "Yes, I have," said Harry brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I'm happy . . . " And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

And Lastly, Sirius proves that he thinks of Harry's friends, too, by providing Ron an owl, as well as knowing that Harry's needs his form.

Also, it's worth noting that Harry was so touched by the letter that he kept reading and rereading it AND given that he'd run away after blowing up Marge & what happened with being locked in the year before, it's entirely possible that the Dursleys planned to lock him up again and Sirius gave him an adult that he could use against the Dursley's (WHICH IS APPARENTLY ALL THEY NEEDED TO BEHAVE) - and that means that despite reneging on the whole 'live with me' deal, he still provided protection that Harry desperately needed.

Which is what a PARENT does.

THUS, Sirius is the Proper Parent, the Best Choice, and did the BEST HE COULD DO for Harry, while Remus dropped the ball.

Also, worth noting the differences in the last POA interactions sets up the next few books nicely with regards to Sirius&Remus with Harry. Harry turns to Sirius when he needs someone, despite knowing Remus for more time. He writes to him, he lets Sirius reassure him and support him, he expects him to be there - and he is. Remus isn't. And he never planned or wanted to be.

That much is obvious from the get.

So, in conclusion, Sirius is a GOOD GODFATHER, and Remus can suck it.

This has been properly tagged, so don't come at me, but feel free to discuss nicely.

[pulsarsatellite]

Pouring Rain

The next chapter of Days of Laughs And Nights of Screams is up to read now!

You can read that new chapter here!

Chapter Summary:

Keep reading

[dancingpottedplant666]

So you know how Tf2 takes place in New Mexico? Well I’m an animal lover, and I know that there are tons of fantastic creatures there and I’m sure there are a bunch of them they would 100% be hanging around the nooks and crannies of RED team’s base. So I present to Ye:

Scenarios about how our beloved mercs and an animal-loving reader handle an encounter with New Mexico’s amazing fauna. 

Part 1 here!

Part 2: Defense

Demoman and the Swallowtail Butterflies 

It was mid morning during a ceasefire and all of the mercs were valuing their time away from the battlefield to the best of their abilities, and of course, Demo was last seen with two bottles of his beloved scrumpy as he headed outside to most likely, get drunk and pass out.

Two hours later, the heat was getting a bit too intense for anyone to be outside for too long, drunk or not. 

You decided it was best to try and find the team’s bomb expert before he burnt to a crisp. Grabbing a glass of cold, ice water and a wet towel just in case, you headed outside.

After a good fifteen minutes of searching around the base, you heard a familiar sound of snoring from the corner of a building. 

However, when you got there, the sight you saw made you let out a giggle.

A passed out Demoman covered in Swallowtail butterflies. 

They must’ve smelled the his sweat and decided it was a good place to rest. All of them resting on his face and hands, opening and closing their wings every once in a while. 

Although, as cute as this was, you did need to wake him up.

“Demo, Hey Demoman, can you hear me?”

You raised your voice a bit, hoping not to startle the small insects.

“DEMOMAN!”

“Uuuuaugggg Whah? What te hell?”

As he stirred awake, some of the butterflies startled a bit and then gently fluttered back on to his face, not seeming to care that their rest stop had woken up. 

Demo froze, you could tell he wasn’t exactly sure what to do in the situation he found himself in.

“ah, um what te…what in te *hic* is happenin”

“uh, heh, I think you fell asleep and your new friends decided to have a pit stop”

“Aaaye” Demo carefully lifts a scarred hand, trying not to scare the swallowtails. 

After stirring a bit, one flies up to rest on his palm.

“Ahhh ffeel like a bloody princess”

You gave a light chuckle, but then you remembered why you came out here in the first place. 

“Hey Demo, it’s getting a little bit too hot out here, we can’t have our Demolitions Expert die from heat exhaustion”

“mm, I suppose you’re right, I deserve to die in a blaze o’ glory don’t I?”

“Damn right” 

You hold out a hand that Demo took, and with one good hoist, the butterflies fluttered of Demo as he stood up, the both of you mesmerized as they fluttered around and up into the sky.

“you ok? You’ve been been out here for a while”

“Aye, dunne worry, I’ve handled worse, by te wae, what were those butterflies?”

“Swallowtails, you can tell by the extra long bits on the ends of their wings, I’m assuming you’re sweat attracted the swarm”

“mah sweat? I thought they onleh ate flowers.”

“nope, sweat, tears and even blood is on the menu for them”

“wot? Tha is bloody brilliant”

“I know right?”

Once you two where inside, you both sigh in unison as the air conditioner hits your skin.

Heavy and the Javelina 

It was late in the afternoon at the base, RED triumphed over BLU, as usual. Despite that, the men never got tired of celebrating their victories, and still drank and shouted to commemorate their win.

Although they can get a little too loud sometimes, so you decided to hangout outside to enjoy the silence and the cool night air. 

After a while, footsteps alerted to you to someone else approaching. 

You turned to be greeted by the heavy weapons man himself. He carried a plate with sandviches piled on top.

“Oh, hey Heavy! Come to relax in the night air too?”

“Da, is too noisy for Heavy’s liking, I sit outside to eat”

“Yeah, guess everybody needs a break from the chaos huh?”

He hummed in agreement as he ate his dinner next to you in relative silence.

Until a squealing noise caused both of you to lift up your heads in confusion

“What was noise?”

“I’m actually not quite sure” 

“It sounds like pig, but no pigs here, right?”

“Huh, you actually might be on to something Heavy” your head scans the area for any movement.

You turn to see him get up from his seat, walk over a few feet, and bend over a shaded area. 

“Heavy has found hairy pig”

“Hairy pig? Wait, What?”

“Hairy pig”

His huge hand ventures under the shade and pulls out a small, squirming, pig-like creature.

“No way! It’s a baby javelina!”

He looks at you with slight confusion as he looks at the grunting baby quizzically.

“Is baby? Where is mother?”

“It must’ve gotten separated from its group, I’m sure we can still find them”

You looked around, wondering if the family could still be nearby.

 As if to answer your question, you found a group of six javelinas, all gorging themselves on the sandviches heavy left behind.

“Ah, there is mother, and rest of family” 

Heavy bends over and lets the squealing baby skitter over to its family.

“Leetle baby may eat with family. Heavy can always make more sandvich”

You and Heavy stood and watched the family eat in relative silence, being careful not to disturb them. Eventually, the family left and walked off. 

After a while, you two found yourselves sitting back where you were.

“You know what hairy pigs were, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah! Javelinas”

“Hm, tell Heavy more about Javelinas”

“Oh, okay! Well, did you know that baby javelinas are called “reds” 

due to the reddish coloration of their fur? They use that to hide from predators looking for an easy meal”

Heavy’s eyes widen. 

“What predators?”

“Oh tons” you counted on your fingers “pumas, bobcats, coyotes, and even desert hawks will try and snatch a baby if their lucky”

“Hm, very dangerous for hairy pigs, yes?” 

“Oh yeah, but don’t think their helpless, they can run up to 35 miles per hour and if that doesn’t work, they have tusks and inch long they can use to clack to together to make threatening sounds or lacerate an imposing threat”

“Hm, leetle pigs know how to survive, Heavy respects that”

You continue talking into the night until you part your ways to head to bed. 

However Heavy will always remember that night where he met the family of hairy pigs.

Engineer and the Armadillo 

It was a calm morning during a ceasefire and today your body decided to get up earlier than usual.

4 AM to be exact (thanks internal clock). 

Knowing that there was no point in going back to sleep, you decided to bring a cup of coffee and some apple slices to your favorite Texan.

You already had a gut feeling that he wouldn’t be in his quarters, so you headed for the garage. 

After giving a quick knock, you heard clattering and a groggy voice respond.

“Ah, innna’ minute!” 

You internally cringed when when he opened the door.

He had bags under his eyes and motor oil and a mix of other gunk was evenly distributed across his entire body. 

In short, he looked like a total mess.

“Hey Engie, pulled another all-nighter ey?”

He gave an exhausted sigh but then lightly chuckled.

“Heh, ya know it, but ahm’ not sure if I should be happy or a lil’ upset that you’re startin’ ta figure out mah’ unhealthy habits”

He turns to the side, letting you in.

“Either way ahm’ impressed”

“Aw shucks Engie, you’re to kind”

You gave a joking swat at his comment but then set down the fruit and coffee.

“I hope I remembered what you liked in your coffee”

You see the slight widening of his smile as you offered him the caffeinated beverage.

He took it and gave it a few chugs, much to your surprise.

“Ah, perfect way to start ma’ mornin!”

You gave a laugh as he continued to chug the drink, gazing at the cluttered up garage.

Bits of machinery were thrown about everywhere, most of it being deconstructed sentries.

“So, whatcha ya been working on?”

Engineer looked around at the parts, using his non-gloved hand to munch on an apple slice.

“Eh, been tinkerin’ mostly, trying to boost efficiency and practicality”

He strolls over to one of his blueprints, eying it like it just insulted his mother.

“But as per usual, nothin’ but dead ends and another sleepless night”

Your next sympathetic words were cut off when the sound of a falling pile of metal stole both your attentions. 

“Dammit, ah just sorted those!”

The angry hard hat stormed over to the pile, ready to cuss it out, but he suddenly froze.

“Engie? You ok?”

“How the hell did ya get in here?”

You walked over to him and saw what he was talking to, and was met with an odd discovery.

A Nine-Banded armadillo huddled in a corner.

“Ah! Engie you have a friend!”

He let out a hearty laugh and put his hands on his hips.

“That ah do! But, he’s the last thing ah want in mah garage”

He went moved to pick it up but you quickly stopped him.

“Wait! Nine-banded armadillo are known to carry leprosy! It’s best to do it with both your hand gloved!”

“Ah, right, beats gettin’ a trip to Medic’s”

He hastily rummaged around for another glove as you grabbed the apple slices that were left.

When he came back, he used his now, fully gloved, hands to hurriedly wrangle and grab the armored visitor.

“There we go ya lil’ stinker! Huh, must’ve got in when ah left the garage door open for some air”

As he held it out by the rim of its shell, you got a better look at the calmed beast.

“Wow, it’s beautiful! I’ve never seen one this close…”

Engineer gave a light grin as you fawned over the armadillo and he gently rubbed its shell.

“Heh, I remember these guys from back home. Saw em’ all over Texas but never really looked into em’”

Your eyes lit up at this.

“Of course! They’re all over Texas and in the southern half of the country, but they can be found as far north as the Missouri and Iowa state line!”

You offered the Armadillo an apple slice and it began to nibble the fruit.

“Well ah’ll be darned! You do know a lot about your critters.”

You continued to state little facts about the animal as he walked it outside and far enough away so it won’t get the idea of coming back.   

“Did you know that they can swim and hold their breath for six minutes? Oh! And that sum guy tried to shoot one but its armor managed to ricochet the bullet into its face?!”

All the while, Engie was beaming like the morning sun.

Not only did you make his all nighter seem worth it, but it also helped him get some new ideas for his machines. 

***

Ah! This turned out so well! Sorry it took awhile! Should I do part 3?

[slippinninque]

Fontaine vs Usher

Notes: fluff, short n sweet, pouty 'taine, goofy reader, I added a bit more cause this one wouldn't leave me alone lol.

Fontaine video called while you were puttering around your kitchen cleaning up after your snack, your laptop still at the table open and flickering through playlists.

"Ugh, I had the biggest crush on Usher-- I'm glad he's still doing alright .."

"....Fuck him."

You snorted, pausing in wiping down your counter, "Now, 'Taine..."

"Mhmm, I said it...fuck 'em."

"What did he do to you?!"

"It ain't about what Usher did, it's what he does. He come over here an' call himself serendaing-- he'll be finishing that hook up at them pearly gates...."

You crumbled onto the counter, outdone and incredulous at your man. Fontaine's expression was every bit serious aside from the slight lift of his brow.

"You are terrible, Fontaine, you can't be out here taking out the greats!"

Fontaines face was suddenly up against his camera, "Turn me 'round, lemme see him..."

"You acting like he's here!"

"I said turn me, woman!"

Dutifully doing as you were asked, you held him in the direction of your laptop right when Usher took off his shirt, tossing it into the crowd.

"See? Look at 'em.... whore."

You couldn't stop laughing as Fontaine wished the absolute worst on the singer.

"I hope you roll your ankle the next time you slide up to a lady, you audacious bitch. Aight, I'm done."

Sighing as you wiped away tears, you shook your head once he could see you again, "You're terrible, but I'm lucky to have you."

Fontaine huffed, "Let him breathe in your direction, Imma bust his head down to the white meat."

Lost to your giggles, you went and plopped onto the couch as you reassured your the superstar in your life.

-------

The radio played aimlessly as you waited for your food to come up at the drive thru. Fontaine was watching the flow of traffic in front of him, when his ears perked at the music playing.

"Right in front of me?" He matched your surprised stare with his own, unimpressed one.

You floundered for a minute before tucking it behind an saccharine little grin, reaching and turning the radio up a bit louder.

"Its 9:00 on the dot I'm your green car parked on the street/ you got a real pretty pretty lil' thing that's waiting for yooooou..../ You-you pull up, anticipating good love, I won't keep you waiting/ I got plans to put your haa-aands in places you always see, boy you know what I mee-eean..."

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you threw yourself over Fontaine as much as you could, wriggling your brows as he tried to ignore you and your terrible remix.

"Gonna take me to a place nice and quiet/ so there were no one left to interrupt, ain't got to rush, you just wanna take it niiiice and sloooow..."

When you tried to kiss him, he turned his face away making you crack a bit.

"No, I don' want kisses." He said, petulant.

"Don't kiss you? I can't kiss you now?"

Saying nothing, Fontaine shifted away from you as if he was rolling over in bed and stared moodily out the window.

"Here, lemme sing to you some more, that might help-- NOW TEEEEEELLL ME, DO YOU WANNA GET FREEEAKY?"

He jumped at the sudden volume of your voice and you slapped a hand on the center of his back, sliding it every which-way as you babbled through the next few rhymes.

Giving your best show, you unzipped your hoodie and rolled your body in the passenger seat. The ruckus of it all making him turn to face you with surprise.

"What... in the Pretty Ricky is happenin' right now?"

"I'm serenading you! We can be each others Usher--

The window finally spun open and your carry out was provided. Fontaine hurried to grab the bags after handing you the drinks.

"I don't wanna be no damn Usher, girl, you lost yo' mind--can I get some straws, please?"

"They call you F-O-N-T-A-I-N and they need an' E-- now why you laughing like that at me in front of this nice Coney Island lady?"

It wasn't really a question, afterall to get that pout off his face was all you wanted.

Fontaine accepted the straws from the giggling worker and you thanked her before Fontaine pulled off and into the street.

"Yo' lil tail play too much." Fontaine eventually said, shaking his head and putting a hand onto your thigh. He was smiling, though, so at least your show was appreciated.

"Just say the word and I'll play you all the jams. Ooo, y'knowanothergoodone-- I'll be yo' grooupie, babyy, 'cause you are my suuperstah--

"Stop, stop!"

Pausing to cackle for a moment and turn the radio completely off, you went back into show mode much to the mirth of your Fontaine.

[jasonsthunderthighs]

Dick: Hey, you guys wanna go get some D-E-S-S-E-R-T?

Kori: Yea, dude I need me a T-R-E-A-T.

Duke: Whatcha guys talkin’ ‘bout?

Jason: Yea, why did you guys just spell “dess-”

Dick: *Coverin’ Jason’s mouth* No, no, no! SHUT UP! Don’t say it-

Duke: Uh.. Why?

Dick: Oh, God. How do we tell you guys this?

Kori: Garfield can’t spell.

Jason:

Jason: What?

Kori: He can’t spell, so when we talk ‘bout somethin’ that he wants, we spell it out loud so he doesn’t get too excited.

Jason: He’s a grown ass person and can’t handle hearin’ the word “Treat”?

Garfield: Treat?

Kori and Dick: No treat!

Garfield: Treat??

Kori and Dick: No treat!

Garfield: Treat???

Kori and Dick: No treat!

Garfield: Aww.. *Goes to hug Duke in disappointment*

Duke: *Confused as he comforts Garfield* Ok, what is happenin’?

Kori: We told you! He gets excited when he hears the word “T-R-E-A-T”!

Garfield: *Looks at both Kori and Dick* Watcha talkin’ ‘bout?

Dick: Taxes.

Garfield: Aww, shucks!

Jason: So, what? You guys treat him like a toddler?

Garfield: Treat?

Kori and Dick: NO TREAT!

Garfield: TREAT??

Kori and Dick: NO TREAT!

Garfield: TREAT???

Kori and Dick: NO TREAT!!

Garfield: Aww.

Dick: Dude, you gotta SPELL if you’re talkin’ ‘bout F-O-O-D.

Jason: Ok.. So.. Are we gettin’ a.. S-N-A-C-K?

Garfield: Snack?

*Kori and Dick groan*

Dick: Oh, c’mon!

Kori: Dude, really?

Jason: C’mon! I SPELT it!

Dick: Well, he KNOWS how to spell “snack”!

Jason: So, he can spell “snack” but can’t spell “treat”??

Garfield: Treat??

Jason: NO TREAT!

Garfield: TREAT?

Jason: NO TREAT!!

Garfield: TREAT???

Jason: NO TREAT!!!

Garfield: GOD DAMMIT!

[steam-beasts]

Toby, my dear Toby...what will happen to you?

When the infection first popped up, Henrietta wasn't that worried, and neither was Toby...as much. Though, he was admittedly a bit on edge with the fact it was affecting engines. It wasn't even fully clear what the symptoms were. As far as they were told, it would just be boiler ache, coughing and a fever. Everything was gonna be fine

But when Toby ended up getting it, it was so much worse than she thought

_______________________________________

It was a lovely morning at Arlesdale End.

The birds were singing...

The flowers were blooming...

...and Henrietta woke up to Toby who was having another coughing fit. The old coach groaned tiredly and winced as she heard the old tram cough and wheeze. Despite her clear annoyance with being woken, she felt a pang of sympathy for Toby "Aw, Toby... getting any better?" She asked.

Toby coughed and sniffed "Ugh... afraid not, Henrietta. It...it feels like this infection is just getting worse and worse..." he croaked. Henrietta sighed "Oh dear...it's been nearly a month! Surely no illnesses take this long, do they?"

Toby's driver patted her buffer "On rare occasions, ol' girl. This is clearly one of them" He said. Several curses could be heard from inside the tram's cab. Then, out came the fireman

"Any joy?" Asked the driver.

Nothin'! Unless there's summin' wrong with the coal we're giving 'im, I can't see or find a bloody thing wrong!" The fireman grunted, wiping his forehead.

"Well, I don't think taking him to Crovan's gate for the 11th time in a row will help either. Not even they can find the cause" the driver sighed "Plus, he'll need to get better at some point. Topham can only keep the railway closed for so long"

"Bloody hell..."

Toby wasn't really comforted by his crew's conversation. He grimaced at the thought of going up to Crovan's gate for the 11th time in a row. His wheels were starting to ache more each week. Sure, he'd gotten ill before from coal, or bad water, but this was much different. It didn't really feel like the coal was the problem, nor any water. It felt so much worse...

He liked his shed, but he didn't want to stay in it forever...

It was then Toby felt an awful queasy sensation in his body. He couldn't pinpoint where it was, but it didn't feel good one bit. His firebox crackled and fizzed excessively, and that was when he felt nauseous. Suddenly, he felt something traveling up to his mouth, and then–

"BLEGHH!!" He vomited and gagged as a deep black fluid came rushing out of his mouth and splattered onto the rails below. His crew came rushing to his side and were taken back by the sight of him vomiting. As the last few drops of black fluid came out, Toby coughed and tried to spit out the bitter taste, all the while panting for breath and wincing as it left the back of his mouth with a stinging pain.

"Oh god..." The fireman whispered. The driver then ran back in the shed "I'll get the towels!"

"Toby?! Are you alright, Toby? What's happening?!" Henrietta exclaimed, silently cursing her inability to see what was happening.

The driver dashed back with a bundle of towels and proceeded to wipe up the old tram's face and buffers "It's alright, old boy. Take deep breaths..." he told him soothingly as he proceeded to clean him up. Henrietta felt herself pale a bit, knowing whatever was happening was bad.

A few hours later, Toby didn't stop vomiting now and then, his crew gave up and just placed a giant old tub in front of him as a bucket for him to empty his...ugh...

Henrietta always winced at the sounds of the steam tram gagging. All the while, she could hear his crew talking about him.

"Whatever's happenin' to him is beyond concernin'. I'll tell ya that"

"What did he even throw up?"

"I checked. I found little chunks o' coal in that stuff. Must be liquidated coal he brought up"

"But...people and animals only throw up stuff that upsets their stomach. Toby's a steam engine. He shouldn't have a stomach..."

"...fuck's sake. I don't wanna think about it"

Henrietta only grew even more concerned as they went on. Of course they don't have stomachs! They never had them, they shouldn't have them, Toby couldn't be growing a...a...

Henrietta felt sick even thinking about the possibilities. She could only listen as Toby vomited into the tub and whispered;

"Oh Toby...what's happening to you...?"

[anon-e-miss]

Rebirth

This goes back to 2020. It's old as fuck. I don't expect anyone to remember or to find the original parts so, here, I dug through my archive on your behalf. XD

Considering the trauma Bluestreak had undergone, he was holding up incredibly well. It was Prowl, Jazz thought, that that was the reason for this. There were other Praxians in Iacon and even among the Autobots but there was only one Prowl. He was wholly unique. Many of the Autobots that served under the SIC called him cold and unfeeling and many more called him a drone. They sneered at the joors he spent glued to his desk never bothering to consider that he spent those joors trying to keep their ungrateful afts alive. Prowl care more carefully than any mechanism Jazz had ever met. Despite Prowl’s huff at Jazz’s observation that he was good with sparklings, it had not come out of left field. Jazz was not in denial, he knew his twins were scamps but Prowl endured their antics with a beatific grace and even encouraged their hobbies with little gifts, not only for holidays but just because.

“So Blue,” Jazz said as he set up the Tilting Tower for their next game. “‘M thinking wit the help Prowl is gonna need for the next bit, ‘m gonna need to move’m in wit me. What do ya think ‘bout joinin’ us? I got two mechlings yer age. They got lots o’ toys to share.”

“I don’t have to go into an orphanage?” Bluestreak asked, optics bright and hopeful.

“Not a chance,” Jazz replied. “Prowl would scrap anyone who suggested it, ‘n I’d scrap what was left. If ya got kin that weren’t in Praxus, Sweetspark, we’ll find’em. Otherwise or until then, ya got a home wit Prowl.”

“I don’t have kin,” Bluestreak said. He made a face and Jazz frowned. It was not the grief Jazz knew would haunt him on some level for the rest of his cycles. It was different.

“Is there somethin’ Bitty Blue?” Jazz asked. “That maybe ya outta tell me?”

“It was always just me and Origin,” Bluestreak explained, he turned one of the blocks over in his servos. “I’m a bastard.”

“No, Sweetspark,” Jazz crooned. “Never say that ‘bout yerself.”

“Origin wasn’t bonded when I emerged,” Bluestreak said. “The mech that sired me didn’t want me and my grandprocreators disowned Origin when he wouldn’t leave me at the orphanage. It was always just us. Forever.”

“That’s heavy, Bitty Blue,” Jazz said. “Y’re progenitor missed out on ya. Y’re a great little mech. But what ya aren’t is a bastard. Y’re illegitimate, okay, Sweetspark? That glyph, bastard, is meant to tear ya down ‘n make ya think y’re less ‘n ya ain’t.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Bluestreak sniffled. He knocked the blocks over as he came in and wrapped his arms around Jazz’s waist in a fierce hug as he cried against his plating. Jazz stroked his back.

“Been happenin’ all yer life, h’uh?” Jazz asked. “Mechanisms treatin’ ya ‘n yer origin like ya was less?”

“Mhm,” Bluestreak replied.

“Not gonna happen here,” Jazz promised. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“Why not?” Bluestreak asked.

“Only Bot got more power here than Prowl is Prime, Blue,” Jazz said. “He’s Second in Command. When Bots fall outta line, it’s Prowl that puts them back into place ‘n no Bot tests him twice.”

“That makes him sound mean,” Bluestreak complained. “Prowl’s not mean!”

“Prowl ain’t mean at all,” Jazz promised. “He’s firm ‘n he’s fair. Mecha don’t like gettin’ embarrassed ‘n Prowl’s real good at findin’ punishments that put the nastiest sorts o’ bullies in their place. Only mecha to razz ‘m on the regular are my twins ‘n he gives ‘em presents ‘cause he knows they’re playin’.”

“Will they razz me?” Bluestreak asked.

“I hope so,” Jazz replied. “It’d mean they like ya. That’s why they razz Prowler as much as they do.”

“Okay,” Bluestreak said. “Prowl’s a good mech. Isn’t he?”

“One o’ the best I ever met.”

Prowl was alert when Ratchet wheeled him back in, as if he had not just undergone six joors of surgery. That was a quirk of Prowl’s Jazz was familiar with, he brushed off anaesthetics and painkillers quick. Bluestreak sat back with Jazz as Ratchet saw Prowl transferred from the gurney to the berth. As soon as Prowl was settled, Bluestreak scrambled up onto the berth with him and cuddled in close as he dared. Prowl rumbled his engine and ruffled Bluestreak’s helm. As important for Bluestreak’s recovery as Prowl was, Jazz thought Bluestreak was for Prowl’s. Of course, Prowl was not showing it, but Jazz knew the slaughter of his home state weighed heavy on him. He had not stopped to rest at all after he had landed in Praxus. It had taken him a long time, longer than it ever would have a drone, to conclude there would be no survivors. A drone would then have left the dead where they have been laid out but Prowl had ordered the grave be dug.

Jazz did not know what it was about that spot that had made Prowl choose it for the grave site, but he believed it was not simple luck that had made the Autobots dig so deep in just that one perfect spot. Neither did he believe it was just bad luck that had made the ground and the window give way under Prowl, leading him to fall into the catacombs and to ultimately find Bluestreak. Jazz believed a power beyond them, the will Bluestreak’s origin, the will of their ancestors, that had lured Prowl to just that spot. Prowl had been meant to find Bluestreak and Prowl alone. This, Jazz believed deep in his spoke.

“How long does Ratchet wanna keep ya?” Jazz asked.

“Just a mega-cycle,” Prowl replied.

“He’s gonna want someone lookin’ out for ya so ya can rest those new treads,” Jazz declared.

“Yes,” Prowl replied. “I know you have assigned yourself that role.”

“Natch. I been gone more than a bit,” Jazz said. “I cleared it wit Blue. While y’re healin’ the pair o’ ya can move in wit me so ya can take it easy.”

“Jazz...” It was a coolly yet quickly spoken glyph, an anxious warning Jazz had heard before. He smiled and squeezed Prowl’s leg.

“It’d be dicey for me to run back ‘n forth between y’re sweet ‘n mine nonstop ‘n I gotta think o’ the Twins too,” Jazz replied. “It just makes sense for the mechs that care ‘bout ya to take care o’ ya, Prowler.”

“Your originator is already living with you,” Prowl argued. “You cannot have the space.”

“It’ll be a lil cozy but I know I done worse,” Jazz declared. “We all have. Ain’t a burden, Prowl. Don’t think I don’t know exactly what y’re thinkin’.”

[ask-fineline-official]

masterpost (read under the yap too)

its like 2 am in my au right now so uh sleep isn't happening tonight. and im bored so we're giving up and starting a tumblr blog. ask me whatever ya want, im an open book. maybe in the morning ill drag the others into this, could be fun.

asks: open. come entertain me lol

rules (masterpost has those right?) :

-do n o t be a youngin, if you found this blog ya already know how we are. if yer ~12 then just walk away

-dont be freaks. i promise i couldn't care less about whatever weird politics are happenin in your universe. none a that sex/race-ism, antiLGBT crap neither

-if ya insult horrors cooking in front a him i will not be held responsable for what happens to ya

-if ya do literally anything in front a killer i will not be held responsable. seriously. personal space.

-its my ass on the line here so don't break nothin

(ACTUAL MASTERPOST BELOW CUT THIS IS JUST DUST YAPPING SO THE ACTUAL IMPORTANT STUFF IS BELOW SO PLEASE READ UNDER CUT)

ASKS ARE VERY MUCH OPEN

I'll be using the color red or double parentheses (()) to indicate editors notes so keep that in mind throughout the blog

We are going tk be treating this blog as if it is actually dust blogging on tumblr so it's technically an rp ig

TAGS:

#this happened. - Funny doodles/memes that have definitely happened at some point and are canon

#shitposting shit - nonsense memes/doodles that are just for the silly

#gang answers - for when one of the boys speaks or answers an ask

#Finelineauau - the name of this au and in case we do variations (human, greek myth, etc) :>

#Yappityyapyap - random thoughts and ideas abt fineline (maybe dialog too)

#fineline art - just general actual good art about the au

#Bea here too but she ain't got tumblr - if irl friend (and cocreator >:D) Bea-- hi!-- wrote a post, this tag'll be there

DNI:

proshippers

Middleschoolers and under (pg 13 lots of swearing)

Racists, homohobes, transphones (we very gay here)

CHARACTERS AVALIBE FOR TALKIN RN: (more will be added as they are revealed)

Dust

Killer

Horror

[hareofhrair]

Art from the most recent ask in its own post. Shafan has a run in with a clown.

story under the cut

HH: =oh i've had run ins with m=ore'n a few cl=owns, n=one of em pleasant.

HH: best =one was a sweep =or s=o back. i was cruisin this lil shindig a friend =of a friend was thr=owin

HH: m=ost everyb=ody there was a rusty, but tha thing ab=out thr=owin a g=o=od party is

HH: cl=owns will just sh=ow up

HH: they just manifest there =or s=omethin s=o=on as things really kick off

HH: like the way bleatbeasts just show up at metal c=oncerts

HH: anyway everyb=ody kn=ows y=ou thr=ow a big en=ough party yer runnin tha risk a cl=owns deciding ta crash it

HH: but generally speakin cl=owns aint subtle and when they sh=ow up ya kn=ow what's happenin

HH: s=o i'm at this party and havin a real g=o=od time

HH: maybe a lil drunker than I =ought ta be

HH: when i sp=ot this Big B=oy lurkin in a c=orner b=o=oth

HH: and yall kn=ow i like em big

HH: s=o i slide in and intr=oduce myself

HH: i feel it's imp=ortant ta menti=on here that the lightin in this place was n=ot s=o g=o=od

HH: and als=o my eyesight leaves a lil s=omethin ta be desired

HH: by which i mean im blind as tha pr=overbial flyin squeakbeast

HH: s=o between that and bein pretty sl=oshed i d=ont n=otice anythin suspici=ous ab=out this gentleman

HH: i start talkin ta tha fella, and he's a bit quiet, aint sayin much

HH: but that's fine i can run my m=outh en=ough fer tha b=oth a us, and i d=o

HH: lil while later, i get ta askin him if he w=ouldn't like ta walk me h=ome, if ya gather my meanin

HH: he says that s=ounds like fun, and we slip =out tha back a tha j=oint

HH: i'm hangin =off his arm, havin tr=ouble walkin straight, when I l=o=ok up an get my first g=o=od gander at tha guy under a streetlight

HH: and i see greasepaint, and a big =ole grin

HH: that'll s=ober a fella up p=owerful fast let me tell ya

HH: n=ow i mighta just g=one al=ong with tha guy and b=olted at tha first good excuse

HH: but apparently i was t=o=o drunk ta manage my facial expressi=ons, cus he sees h=ow i'm l=o=okin at him and his smile if anythin just gets wider.

HH: finally n=oticed, did ya? he says. that mean i cain't walk ya h=ome n=o m=ore? =oh well, tha =other way w=oulda been m=ore fun, but we can still have a g=o=od time.

HH: and he drags me =off int=o an alley and pulls o=ut a club, ready ta splatter me acr=oss tha pavement like a p=opped water bal=o=on

HH: but i tend ta babble when i'm scared, and all =of a sudden i say

HH: hell nah, y'all can't kill me like this, it ain't even funny!

HH: where's tha w=ordplay? tha creativity?

HH: yer just g=onna smash me with a club in an alleyway?

HH: where's tha fuckin craftsmanship? where's tha art?

HH: and that actually makes him st=op fer a minute

HH: and he just l=o=oks at me fer a bit, an then he says

HH: kn=ow what, yer right. Culls =ought ta be gl=ori=ous in tha sight a tha messiahs =or s=ome shit

HH: and i say hey ya kn=ow what w=ould be funny

HH: im a real fast runner, faster than hell

HH: and there's a train what comes thr=ough here right at sunrise

HH: let's say y=ou challenge me t=o a race with tha train

HH: and if I beat it, y=ou let me g=o

HH: he starts sayin nah i aint just lettin y=ou run =off i aint that dumb

HH: and i say =of c=ourse, that's the funniest part

HH: bef=ore the train c=omes, ya tie my feet t=o tha tracks!

HH: he says h=ot damn yer right that is fuckin funny

HH: gets right giggly imaginin me tryin ta run and gettin flattened like an old penny

HH: so we head =on =over t=o tha train tracks

HH: and i say wait h=old =on, we need s=ome supplies first

HH: supplies, he says?

HH: i say yeah well, we need r=ope =obvi=ously, and an umbrella

HH: he says, an umbrella?

HH: i say =o c=ourse an umbrella, i t=old ya tha train c=omes right at sunrise. ya d=ont want ta be standin there burnin in tha sun iffin tha train is late, d=o ya?

HH: and he says yer right yer right i d=ont care fer sunburns

HH: s=o he gets s=ome r=ope and a big black umbrella and we get =on tha tracks and he start's tyin my feet t=o tha tracks, but he's kinda strugglin because he's h=oldin tha umbrella at tha same time

HH: and i say hang o=n, ya can't tie it like that, it's g=onna slip right o=ff. here, let me sh=ow ya, i learned s=ome sailin kn=ots fr=om a c=obalt that never c=ome l=o=ose

HH: So i start sh=owin him h=ow ta d=o it, but he ain't gettin it, s=o i say here, i'll tie my =own feet, and y=ou watch and practice =on your =own feet.

HH: s=o he starts tyin his =own feet ta tha tracks, but he's still fumblin =on acc=ount =of h=oldin tha umbrella, s=o i say, ya need b=oth hands, here let me h=old that f=or ya

HH: and he says thanks and hands me the umbrella and g=oes back ta tyin his feet ta tha tracks.

HH: n=ow =of c=ourse ab=out that time tha sun starts ta c=ome up, and right =on time the train whistle s=ounds in tha distance

HH: and tha cl=own l=o=oks up

HH: by which p=oint i'm already ab=out half a bl=ock away, runnin like hell itself is =on my heels

HH: but i was still cl=ose en=ough ta hear that m=otherfucker laughin, laughin like ta bust a gut, right up till tha n=oise a tha train dr=owned him =out