#that was a cool dynamic! it’s fun!

[flashhwing]

I would be really into the live action Suki and Sokka dynamic if they weren’t supposed to be Suki and Sokka

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

big bro jazz

[chloesimaginationthings]

Best friends who hate each other core

YES EXACTLY,, tbh it’s like if an 80s bully and 2010s scene kid became friends

[wyvernity]

been thinking about the sinnohtrio lately......plus misc other stuff

also, casual ko-fi drop!! get something in this sketchy style starting at $10 woop woop

[hey-hey-j]

Branch will have you know that he rightfully earned that employee of the month slot thank you very much

(★ my Kofi) | (★ commission info)

[naffeclipse]

Sparks and Oil

Mechanic!Reader x Mob Boss!Eclipse

Commission Info

I have the pleasure of writing @zayaayame's Crimes and Justice AU with a mob boss Eclipse visiting his favorite mechanic! Their dynamics are so fun together and of course, the boy is utterly endeared with the one fixing him up.

Content Warning for suggestive themes and robotic injury.

———

The animatronic, silver and gleaming, slips out the door with a cheerful wave of their newly restored digits on their left hand. You return the gesture with a gentle smile. When the door falls shut after their departure, you breathe a sigh. Exhaustion tugs at your seams; a day’s work worth. You step towards the open sign and flip it to close. Everyone has been taken care of. In terms of emergencies, your door is always open, of course, but as far as appointments go, you’re done.

Before your hand can find the deadbolt and slide it into place to lock up for the night, a shadow falls over you from outside. The lampposts lining the street already burn brightly, and the dusk is dying deeper into a fresh night. Slowly lifting your head, murmuring pleas to not be who you think it is, you find just the one you weren’t looking for.

Eclipse grins. A sharpness encases his brilliant red and black silicon and his sun rays jut out like red-hot pokers. Dressed sharply in a pink dress shirt, red vest, and black slacks, he reaches down with a hand from his lower set of arms to push the door open and step inside.

“Hello, spitfire,” his optics, burning orange, like the sun when it sets on a smoggy evening, go up and down your form. “Aren’t you looking like a dish tonight. And your prosthetics have never had more shine.”

“Eclipse.” You roll your eyes at his romantic attempts to appease you. You cross your arms, one of sleek metal and one of your natural, muscular flesh folding in your agitation.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asks and saunters a little closer. His lower arms are spread wide in greeting but you are not the least bit impressed. His grin is rough and rugged. His upper set of arms hang steady by his side. 

You tilt your head in the slightest. His pink sleeves are strangely rolled down, covering the intimidating factor of his thick limbs, but you spy a spot of grease on the corner of his left shoulder. Wires poke at the fabric from underneath.

It is bad enough to have a mob boss darkening your door. It’s worse when he needs your service.

“What happened? Wait, no.” You turn around, stepping one prosthetic forward before swinging your natural one after it in a swift stride. “I don’t want to know.”

“Not even a little?” He follows after you, a towering animatronic with the strength to break whatever he’d like with his four arms—three arms, currently. “You don’t want to know how the other man fared?”

You already guess that he’s six feet under and the less you know of illegal goings-on while managing your mechanic shops, the better. 

Ushering into the back room where your private workshop resides, you point to a low table and move in muscle memory, gathering tools and acquiring the necessary components to fix an injured shoulder joint. Afton Robotics services all animatronic parts and pieces, but they are not fun to get on hand. Eclipse is at least considerate enough to make monthly donations to your mechanic shops for all the scouring you do for him.

“Take a seat,” you command instead. “Don’t you have your own mechanics?”

Eclipse purrs a low sound as he settles on the edge of the metal table. He is too tall and imposing even when you stand before him, preparing your tray of tools for the procedure.

“Of course, but they don’t have the same touch as you, spitfire.”

You whip a glare at him before resuming arranging the parts you will need.

“Watch your tongue—and roll up your sleeve.” You stop at his side, ready.

“If you insist,” he rolls deeply in his voice box. Immediately, you stand on edge.

Now what?

To your chagrin, the mob boss’s lower set of hands gladly gets to work unbuttoning his vest. A flame flickers within you. Eclipse grins as he takes his agonizing time to uncover his torso, his pink shirt husked in favor of giving you a free look at his rugged design and bright red colors of warning. Your eyes roam unwittingly before his grin turns sharp like a shark watching you bleed.

Your natural hand reaches over you to twist and adjust your prosthetic arm as you battle the maddening urge to toss him back onto the street. When he finishes setting aside his shirt and vest, you immediately zero in on the torn arm dangling off of his shoulder by a few, straining wires.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, resting his hands on the legs of his black slacks. His optics flash. “I can show you more.”

“Are you injured anywhere else?” you reply clinically. 

Eclipse clicks his metaphorical tongue in disappointment.

You lift a hand to the damaged framework and the connector. It’s not as horrible as you feared, but it is a nasty wound. Oil drips freely now that you’ve exposed the sight of damage and wires spark with short bursts of burning light.

“Will you shut off power to your top left shoulder?” 

Eclipse tilts his head and the sparks stop spitting out from exposed copper wires. Now there’s no need to fear frying yourself on an open current. You gladly step closer and begin to salvage what pieces you can and mentally account for what you will need to replace as you remove bullet-chewed pieces.

“You know,” Eclipse rumbles amid your concentration, “I wouldn’t have to find you at the oddest hours if you were closer.”

His lower right hand snakes around your waist. You ignore how his large palm ghosts just over the clothes of your jumpsuit before lightly caressing your spinal implant. The metal vertebrae whirl in a myriad of flashing, wild colors. He hums a low sound.

Lowering his head to your shoulder, a kiss presses into your shoulder, touching the sweat and grime you’ve accumulated throughout the day. You almost jump but force yourself to focus on splicing two wires to repair the strain they endured. Then, once you finish, for good measure, you snap a glare in Eclipse’s direction.

“If you kiss me while I’m working on you, I might make a mistake, and you will pay for it.”

“Understood, spitfire.” He chuckles but his hands still roam over your body. 

Even as you stand and bend over his wound, his fingers trail over your muscled arms and touch the cords of strength along your back, trailing down your hips to your strong thighs. Scars bump underneath his smooth, metallic touch. He even stoops low to study a few marred knits of flesh along your arm where your prosthesis joins with your body. 

If you weren’t so focused on replacing the connector of his shoulder, you might have caught a glint of guilt in his optics. He instead rubs your arm softly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes an electric breath. “You should move closer to me, so I can keep you safe. It’s so dangerous out here.”

You scoff and don’t bother to lift your eyes from the task at hand. His model is familiar if not threatening. He was built to be a weapon and a weapon he has made himself.

“Oh, you wound me, spitfire,” he croons dramatically.

“Do I,” you give dryly. “I doubt I could wound you as much as whatever did this to you.”

The precision of your tools fit between metal slats and wires, restoring what was once blasted apart by a gunshot. No, you don’t think you could hurt him like this.

One of his hands falls over his chassis and he swoons while keeping still enough for you to work.

“So cruel, so heartless. And I only offer all of my parts to you,” he sighs. If only you could have taken his voice module and switched it off. 

“You’ll live,” you promise. Against your will, a tiny small slips over your lips when Eclipse straightens, his optics slipping over you in a low burn. “There. You’re all patched up.”

You turn away to reach for a rag to wipe your greasy fingers on but the hand you just restored takes you by the arm. Falling still, you feel one of his other hands move into the pocket of your jumpsuit, depositing what feels to be a thick wad of cash. Another crook of a finger captures your chin. Slowly, you rise to meet his eyes, caught in the bright orange light of his optics.

“Thank you, spitfire.”

Your lips part to ask how it feels if the current flows well and if his movement is hindered at all, but he silences you with a kiss. His metallic mouth presses over yours. He’s warm and strong but mostly, gentle. You make a soft sound, surprised and furious and flustered by his audacity. He pulls slowly away from you as if savoring every last drop.

“I’ll see you again soon.” His grin is harsh and handsome, and you boil. He can’t do that to you just because he can. But he leaves you speechless, left with oil-slick fingers and a buffering mind as he slips to the front of the shop and out the door, into the night.

You burn where you stand. Your hand moves to your lips and traces where his kiss still simmers in your skin, and you groan. 

If he doesn’t get killed, you’ll kill him one of these days.

[noodles-and-tea]

Hey there! I've said something before but now I want to say that your art is great and that you are responsible for getting me into Sherlock & co. But I have a burning question regarding your thoughts on Guy Richtie's Sherlock. Do you like it?

I actually do like it!!!

[ricky-mortis]

Surprising absolutely no one- I absolutely adore Tadius

[ryllen]

if they ended it peacefully, i want to see more 9s with a2

[deoidesign]

It's my right to tell myself I can do just a little animation just for fun just for really quick to do some action and then spend 3 days straight on it

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[chloesimaginationthings]

What is the relationship between Michael and Gregory like?

I’d say like dysfunctional brothers

[necrotic-nephilim]

not enough TimJay content takes advantage of the fact that the Red Robin mantle and suit were Jason's first, and Tim effectively stole Jason's shit that Jason wanted to throw away. Tim took Jason's name, his suit, to go on a one-man crusade when he's at odds with the Batfamily. You're telling me Jason wouldn't be weirdly offended but also weirdly turned on by that?

robin (1993) #177

robin (1993) #178

And yes, Tim only knows about the Red Robin suit's existence because Ulysses Armstrong stole it for a hot second, but the fact he stole the suit from Ulysses and fucking kept it? Even before he had any reason to? Like before becoming Red Robin, Tim just kept a suit he knew belonged to Jason despite openly disliking Jason for. Reasons. And later on, it's explicitly confirmed Tim's wearing it because it's Jason's legacy? That's the most toxic gay shit I've ever seen.

adventure comics (2009) #3

Tim's punishing himself with Jason's image. Jason, who has been constantly trying to get Tim to see things his way and work with him would lose his mind over that. There's such a potential for a toxic possessiveness to it all, Tim branding himself with Jason's suit and name. The assumptions Jason would make about Tim because of it. The way Jason could hold that over Tim's head, that they really are one and the same, and deep down, Tim must know it to some degree, if he became Red Robin when he felt replaced as Robin. I truly do not think Jason would ever shut up about it. As a fan of 'possessive/weirdly obsessed with Tim' Jason, I think this would take Jason's weird feelings about Tim to the next level. And if Tim will punish himself just by wearing Jason's legacy, imagine how much more he'd punish himself for falling for Jason too. Weird freaky little masochist who tortures himself through Jason seems exactly Jason's type, tbh. I'm feral about it.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

I jumped into the TLOOW train!! Have some Time Buddies Sillies 💃

(Au and character designs by @elwensa !! you can find it ->here<-)

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[the-names-catastrophe]

So all we know about Leo's time in the foster system is that he ran away six times, right? We don't know how long each house vs each period on the streets lasted or even where in America he was dropped. Anyway what I'm saying is there's a brief period of time where he's living on the streets of Manhattan and he and Magnus were half allies against the wealthy and half competing over who could stick their hands in fire the longest when no one was watching. (They keep tying because they're both immune to fire.) One day when Magnus visits Camp Halfblood, they Spider-Man point at each other

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.