#mech needs to learn to shut the fuck up
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94 on my english final i’m not doing Great today but now i’m Slightly Better
#i have another 2 finals today and our guard tech this morning made me wanna kms#godddd i’m so happy that i’ll be getting my associates when i get outta here#you could not make me pay money to suffer through this shit#i’m agonized#mech’s being an idiot again#mech needs to learn to shut the fuck up
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HI I want to talk about the Keroro platoon mechas because I love how thoughtfully they're made and how they relate to their teams dynamic <3
VERY long post under the cut.
As you can see, the first Keroro mechs combine with Giroro being the bottom right leg, Dororo being bottom left, Kururu being left arm, Tamama being right, and Keroro being the head.
This is what Kururu later refers to as Robot #1.
Later, when the mechs been destroyed and Shurara throws a tantrum, the team gets saved by what Kururu has dubbed Robot #2.
Notice the changes here. Giroro is now the right arm, Kururu is now the right leg, and Tamama is the left arm.
This change is a big deal!
Your legs control your mobility. These, in a symbolic sense, are who I would imagine "carry" the team, or the rocks of the team, for lack of better words.
With robot #1, the base is Giroro and Dororo. Keroro's oldest friends, people he, in almost only a familiar sense, seems to be able to rely on. While all three seem to care about each other, these two are also most likely to shoot Keroro down.
Giroro because he hates when his plans are poorly crafted, and Dororo for refusing to participate in plans deemed too violent, among other things for both men. In relation to what that says about their characters, it almost implies Dororo and Giroro have to stop Keroro from walking into dumb shit. Very literally stopping him; ie controlling his mobility. In relation to Keroro, he uses their refusal as a reason why their plans never work out, ALSO putting the responsibility onto them as mobility.
With the younger duo, Tamama is, very fittingly, Keroro's right hand. Keroro and Tamama would probably like to believe Tamama is that loyal to him. Tamama gets to fuel his fantasy of being closer to the sergeant, and Keroro gets to have someone look up to him. To feel looked up too, in the very least. Kururu is his left hand, as the person who can make pretty much anything happen. I'm sure to Kururu, it'd also be beneficial to be seen as close to Keroro. They are the most loyal to him, in his eyes. Hands.
Now Robot #2 is built SPECIFICALLY to get them out of trouble. If Robot #1 is to represent how the team as it usually functions, Robot #2 is where they're most functional, or where they need to get.
I'll start out with Tamama. It's just a part of growing up that you learn your heroes are human. (He does this in the manga at least.) This doesn't mean he wants to leave him, though. Shown with him being his left hand instead of his right, it's good not to take everything Keroro says to heart, but that doesn't mean he wants to give up on him.
Giroro is his right hand. He's also the only one who is WHOLLY focused on invasion; the reason they're stuck on this planet in the first place. While they both go back and forth at each other all the time, Giroro would die for Keroro. He's trying to get him on the most fruitful path, even though he's harsh with how he goes about that.
Kururu is his left leg. He does more than the platoon has (willingly) acknowledged. He's pretty fucking needed in the case of invasion as a base, but also, he keeps tabs on everyone. He can track them down, finds and stops dangers before they even get to them. Don't get me wrong though, there's something interesting to consider that he moved further from his captains arms. This could represent everything he's kept hidden from the team.
I could say a million things about Dororo's place, mostly because I find it so like him. He didn't move. I'm not saying everyone should shut Keroro down, but Dororo is almost always in the right when he does it. Yes, he would be in a humans perspective to the invasion, but even with Keroro's feelings in mind he does his best to keep things fair. He doesn't take out his feelings over their past. They're both not perfect to each other of course, but Dororo is right where he needs to be. Which brings me to Keroro.
Keroro is the head. I know I've talked about him in relation to everyone else in this post, but there's a reason why you need to focus on that. How he see's the team and how the team gets along changes it's functionality, and as their leader, he needs to pay attention to both. He's pretty much in charge of both. How they see Keroro, how he allows them to see him, and how he see's them is placed right in front of us.
I could easily be reading into a mech that's clearly designed to be marketable, but I'd like to believe there's more to it than that. It's shows what work Keroro needs to do with his team. Tamama's misplaced idolization, finding understanding with Giroro, getting to know Kururu's everthing, and considering Dororo in general. And when it comes back to Keroro, it shows that his team won't give up on him. They just need to get a little closer.
Four sources, the whole robot change happens in episode 203.
I don't know if this is anything, but it meant enough to me to type this out at 2 am, so I'm posting it. Please let me know what you think and if there are any errors! Also, if this does seem like I'm reading to much into it, just know I will do it again
#if you read the full thing THANK YOU ILY <333#this show still has a grip on me. the characters are strewn into my nervous system#keroro#tamama#giroro#kururu#dororo#loveposts#i love you symbolism in stories thank you symbolism in stories
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I Can't Explain Ninjago
Season 3: Rebooting Rebooted
So, apparently the world goes on after possessed Satan becomes a DILF, and "The Ninja" apparently went to college or are teaching without a license. But not Trauma Child, he's busy being paraded around Ninjago! Anyways, Spiky, Freezy, Coal, Bluejay, and Meow all become teachers.
Meanwhile, newly named New Ninjago City becomes super duper techy and all of the vehicles fly. The teachers go on a field trip to the tower of the guy who invented all of the new technology: Anxious Tony Stark, who will be called Cyborg. Cyborg has a robot daughter named Pixie Dust, who gets Freezy's heart, metaphorically. Cyborg summons "the Ninja" (obv not including Trauma Child, he's busy fucking around with god's gold powers that he got by sort of taking the other "Ninja's" elemental power last season) and gives them a statue of himself.
These assholes break the statue, but it's okay because it was built to break. It has some funky Hacker Sticks and ninja outfits inside. Now, they're being chased by evil robots because, surprise, the Evil Liquid Cat didn't actually die; he's now a computer virus! So, he's trying to kill them again 👍 The fuckwads run away and put on the outfits that somehow fit them. Also Meow takes a buzzfeed quiz which tells her that she should date Coal, and Gandalf gets kidnapped by Evil Liquid Cat.
The six scamper off to Sensei DILF's house, and Trauma Child gets his ass whooped by running into a pole. They then get jumped by the Evil Roombas, and Freezy makes Pixie Dust turn Normal TM. Trauma Child and Sensei DILF steal a car from the Big Fighter Mech base, and they drive off into the sunset while actively being hunted down. The others go shut down the power, and then Pixie Dust now literally gets Freezy's heart. Or, well, half of it. So, she lives.
Trauma Child wants to use the god's gold powers to travel, but Sensei DILF tells him to shut up and stop, because Evil Liquid Cat can slurp up the remnants to become solid. Trauma Child also kidnaps a baby bird, and the bird's dad almost kills Sensei DILF. But, everything works out. Y'know, until Sensei DILF's chucked into the ocean and Trauma Child is kidnapped.
Meanwhile, Bluejay is mad at Coal because Bluejay wasn't the result of Meow's buzzfeed quiz and they fight, the others got their asses whooped by evil Gandalf because Evil Liquid Cat corrupted him, they learned that the evil robots are now being powered by electric eels, and they figure out that the Evil Liquid Cat was stolen by porple snek, who kidnapped Trauma Child.
"The Ninja" then decide to play the VR game that Evil Liquid Cat is trapped in, and [insert freddy fnaf at five bears reference here]. Anygays they holy grailed the motherfucker out of the game, but surprise surprise! After slurping almost all of Trauma Child's gold power from god, he gains a mostly corporeal form!!!! yayyyyyy 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 so the parkour pisschickens go to space and almost die. again. wooooo.
Oh hey also the Evil Liquid Cat finds the Big Gold-Stick Thing + god's gold weapons from the past and makes it into a portable lava lamp stand for himself. "The Ninja" fight him again, and porple snek shrinks and gets eaten by a robot bird.
They're fighting, it's really intense, all has failed and Ssomething needs to happen Now, and Freezy hopscotches his way over to the Evil Lava Lamp Cat, andddddddd.......
Freezy explodes.
Yep, he sploded 😔
Sorry, he's (supposedly) dead.
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sorry this took so long, school's been dragging me to my living room (aka hell) and i've been fighting through a writing slump-
Tournament of Smellements will come..... eventually? i'll try my best idk 😭
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Ambulon x sick reader comfort fluff
You woke up suddenly thanks to a hideous coughing fit that wrecked your whole body. As you hacked your lungs out, you noticed that you were in your own habsuite. How did you get here? The last thing you remember was that you were in Captain's meeting, taking notes and feeling lightheaded.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty."
You flinched and looked to your right, only to see Ambulon out of all the mech sitting right next to your bed. You blinked owlishly at the sight of him. Why was he in your suite? Also, beauty? You certainly didn't feel like one.
"W-what happened?" You asked as you tried to sit up but Ambulon quickly pressed you back down on the soft bed. "You fainted at the meeting. You have a high fever which drained you of your power and made your body shut down."
Such words. Exactly like one would say when one hasn't treated a human before.
"I didn't know you took care of humans?" You wondered out loud and Ambulon shook his helm, "I don't so this is an excellent chance to learn first hand."
"Pleasure to help you out." You said with a grin before another coughing fit hit you head first. Ambulon frowned and pulled a small bottle from his subspace before giving it to you with a bottle of water. You raised a questioning eyebrow and he sighed, "Medicine for your situation."
"Thanks." You accepted the bottle of pills and water and immediately took one pill and chased it down with water. You quickly came to one conclusion. Being sick sucked. Your muscles ached, your head hurt and at one point your nose would be stuffed and leaking next. Gross.
"Don’t worry, I’m staying right here," Ambulo said and you groaned. That's not what you were worried about, but that's still awfully nice of him.
"I'm okay Ambulon." You said as you sat up and he let you when you swiped his hand away, "I don't need you to look after me 24/7."
"I want to." He said with a serious face, "You mean a lot to me and I want to take care of you. Make you healthy again."
What, was he confessing something? You averted your gaze from him and blushed, not as he could tell with your already fever-heated face.
"F- Fine. You can stay if you want." You cursed yourself for stuttering. "But only because I like you, but I don't want to be a bother!"
"Wait, you like me?"
What the fuck did you just say with your feverish mind? Oh no….! You confessed!
You could feel dread rise against your spine and suddenly you were feeling too hot and cold at the same time. What did you just do? Did you just ruin a good friendship because you had feelings for Ambulon?
"What a coincidence." You could hear the smile on the good doctor's face, "I happen to like you also."
You whipped your head towards him and saw him actually smiling and his smile only grew when he saw your stunned face. "I take it you like me also?"
You grumbled quietly, but there was no way to deny your feelings. So you nodded and looked away stubbornly. "I don't want your pity…!"
"Good." He nodded as he gently got to your level and pecked your head, "Because you never needed it."
You blushed even harder and lifted your pillow to push it against your burning face.
"You're awful…!" You murmured against the pillow, yet still, somehow Ambulon could hear and understand you.
"I love you too."
#cybertronianviking#transformers#transformers mtmte#mtmte#ambulon#drabble#reader#reader insert#ENJOY!#sick#sickness
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Paresse never left the mountain AU
No CWs just yet.
Six. There were only six at the meeting. Aren't there supposed to be seven?
Vice tilted his head and ran through his database internally. Yep. There were supposed to be seven. He growled. Of course it was sloth missing.
"Where's the last one?" He crossed his arms and glared at the masters and douji gathered.
Silence for a moment, they looked between each other, also wondering if anyone else knew. A few shrugged.
Vice's face twisted into a snarl, "You're telling me not a single one of you has made contact with the seventh sin?"
"They sure haven't."
An infuriating face rounded the corner. Dunstan, with a big ol grin on his face.
"Fuck off, old man. This isn't your business."
"Oh, but I'm the only one who knows where he is! You won't find him on your own. You'll need him for the funeral, won't you?"
Vice snorted, "Who cares, he's laziness, right? Probably better off without him."
"I see, I see..." Dunstan tapped a finger to the side of his face, "Well, just in case you decide you need him; his first and last master was a soldier in the French Alps. He never left that mountain."
Vice sighed inwardly. France was quite literally on the other side of the planet.
"Yeah, I don't need him."
...
Vice glared at the mountains towering over him. Damned curiosity. A few feet away, K was talking with a soldier who was very clearly not having any of their shit, K flicking through a japanese-french dictionary. While it was amusing, Vice's language learning had picked up the language a while back in the airport.
He spoke up in fluent French after K had thoroughly embarrassed himself;
"Let us through or I'll kill you and all of your comrades."
K blinked dumbly at Vice, not understanding, and the soldier laughed.
"You don't know what's up those hills." He eyed Vice up and down once... and then shrugged, "Go on, then. Your funeral. Say hello to Mère des Pins for me before you die."
He turned and unlocked the gate through the massive fence. One of the other soldiers frowned at him, but didn't interrupt.
Vice was surprised, but guessed the soldier found K's idiotic stumbling as amusing as he did.
Mère des Pins. Vice rolled that title over in his head as they made their way through the gate and into the woods. Mother of the Pines. Behind him, he heard the soldier talking.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"Who cares, two foreigners disappearing isn't unusual."
"If it becomes a big deal then--"
"Then we tell people they snuck over, we shot at them, and they got away. Relax."
"What if they come back?"
"They won't. Why do think we're not allowed to chase after people who go in? We wouldn't come back, either."
Vice frowned. From what he'd found, this part of the Alps was home to a "cryptid" that he figured had to be the douji he was hunting for. Jester-like, tall and lanky, urban legends that described the trees as moving and listening. It had to be the sloth douji.
Something moved and his eyes snapped towards it. A squirrel. He shuffled his jacket on his shoulders. Wouldn't be that easy anyways, right? They had a few miles of mountain to cover. He waited until even his hearing couldn't pick up the base down below. Then he jabbed K's arm.
"ICON. Now."
Without question, his mech form blossomed like a wound above the trees. His needle teeth clicked and chattered against one another as he settled. His eyes scanned the trees, the mountain side... and then he felt something off in the pit of his stomach. He scanned twice over the same section of the forest... and the trees changed. He paused... and then listened more closely as he did it again. He didn't hear wood creaking or leaves rustling, but the trees changed again.
Something brushed his leg.
He looked down, one hand reacting immediately to slice down ten trees at once at his feet. Creatures scattered as the trees came crashing down. K shrieked and covered his ears.
"Shut up." Vice growled and clicked his teeth again as the sound faded.
Well, he could certainly see why no human came back down. The sloth was using his noh to make the forest impossible to navigate. For a human. He'd have to keep a close eye on K, and being high up wasn't going to help him find his missing subordinate. There was a rock jutting up over the treeline, he'd use that as a landmark and logged its coordinates before they came out of ICON mode. He shoved K's clothes at him and shook his hair out, some debris from the falling trees had gotten caught in his mane.
Something rustled.
He dismissed it as another squirrel.
#tbc#because ive gotta take my dog for q walk and go get the mail so#ill continue later#ress writes#karakuridoji ultimo#ultimo#karakuridouji ultimo
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13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim
Some games need a pretty big buy-in right up front. Death Stranding and Xenoblade Chronicles come to mind. 13 Sentinels is similar to the former in this regard (for me at least). It's a story about time traveling teens who take all their clothes off to pilot giant mechs in battle against kaiju.
So that's a lot to chew on.
You alternate between controlling 13 different characters at various points in the past, present, and future. It's horny, but apparently less horny than other games from developer Vanillaware. I'm not super familiar with them but on a related note I just picked up their side-scrolling beat 'em up Dragon Crown Pro on the cheap, and booooooooy. Thought I was safe when I elected not to play as the witch character with the comedically enormous boobs. I went with the Amazon, played for approximately one minute, then shut it off. Maybe another time when my kids are not around. Maybe not. Yikes. Not just horny but those proportions. Uh
EVERY MOMENT IN THIS TWISTED FORM IS AGONY KILL ME
Aaaaanyway. 13 Sentinels is only somewhat horny, despite the naked teens piloting mechs and that one nurse lady with the large cans.
The game's progression is unusual. Each time you launch the game, you choose to either play story bits from the perspective of a character of your choice - or you choose to play the realtime strategy-ish game where you are piloting mechs and defending the city from invaders.
The former is doled out to you in such a way that you can't really ruin the story for yourself. For example, you might play as Iori Fuyusaka for a bit, then it will say "Play more of Nenji Okata's story to unlock further progress." You're witnessing events unfolding in the present (1980's Japan in the game) the past (WWII era Japan) and 2025, 2065, and 2105 (oh shit science and time travel and mechs). Giant kaiju are coming to destroy everything, and these teens piloting mechs are all that can stop them. Maybe the Americans are responsible? What year is it? Why is this black cat hanging around and talking to this girl and maybe getting her to kill people? Maybe we can somehow prevent all this bad shit that is happening or has happened or will happen.
The story is told by way of 2D side-scrolling adventure-y gameplay. You're walking around gorgeous these environments looking for information and clues, and talking to people. Maybe get you some yakisoba-pan? Yes, do that. Always the yakisoba-pan. There are some detective elements to the game where, as you talk to people and discover new clues, new dialogue options get added to a sort of "thought cabinet."
There's murder drama, high school drama, deception, love, and oh boy, it's a fucking LOT. What's real? Who is hiding something? What fucking year is it??? I decided pretty early on to give myself over to it rather than try to be hyper-analytical. The story is a real rollercoaster ride, and I loved every damn minute of it, especially when I let go of the wheel. I expected that.
What I did not expect to love was the mech city-defense RTS portion of the game. Baddies invade the city from every direction. Some fly, some walk, and so on. You choose some number of your teens to get into their mechs and defend the city. If the enemies get through and destroy the core, it's game over. Your characters gain XP, learn skills, and have specializations. Your squad consists of high health defenders, melee specialists, EMP, healers, long range missile units, and more. You mix and match and choose who to pair with who for each battle.
The visuals really do nothing for me, at all. It's part of why I didn't play the game until I could get it on deep discount. I looked at screenshots like the one above and felt absolutely nothing (even more than usual). It's extremely functional though. Bright, flashy effects hit with flare, and the numbers. So many numbers. The battles take place in real time until you bring up a menu to move a unit or select an attack or ability. Then it slows to a crawl until you've chosen your action. Thank you, thank you, THANK you Vanillaware. It's essentially real time with pause, which has a special place in my heart.
The cadence of playing a couple of story bits then doing a city defense battle is really pleasing. 13 Sentinels Aegis Rim was a pleasant surprise, and one of a small handful of games where I got the platinum trophy. It's a weird stew of anime, time travel, mech, and kaiju, and it isn't really like anything else I've played. I know it's not wholly new and unique, but it's far enough off the beaten path for me that it felt like a breath of fresh air.
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what about some kup x springer? that old geezer needs to be plowed hard and good!! :3c
Ayyye I got you king, you fuckin' got it.
Kup has been around the block. He's seen monsters big and small, been in the coldest climates and under the most scaliding suns. But not ONCE has he seen such bullshit. He was in charge of making sure the new wrecker wannabes did their daily trainings, and of course, once mech had to ruin it for the rest of them.
And that mech was Springer. Kup had to head out to check on something (on request of Ultra Magnus), and instead of doing rounds, he caught his team looking at dirty magazines. Now don't get Kup wrong, he knew what was on a young mechs processor, and it was plenty healthy. When they were on their own time.
"But when it's distracting the rest of the team, that's when it is a problem. This is what you save for the barracks, kid."
Someone had snitched, revealing that they belonged to Springer. The hot shot triple changer who was easy on the optics, hard on the processor. It was why he was in his office, uninterested as Kup scolded him. Springer shrugged.
"What? You were gone, we were bored. And these are new! It's just mechs having fun."
"Training first, playtime later."
"Wow, prude much?"
"I don't give a scrap if you all have an orgy back there, I really don't. I need you-"
Springer threw his hands up, as if in disbelief.
"As if you give us enough time to HAVE an orgy back there. I think you're just so bitter that YOU don't get laid, you're spikeblocking the rest of us!"
Kup had to take a second to absorb all this bullshit. He pulled a cygar from his desk, lit it, then took a long inhale. There was no common sense in this kid, no reasoning with him. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill the immediate area.
"Alright. Alright. You wanna play this game, do ya kid? We'll play that game. You get to be transferred to Ultra Magnus-"
"His unit SUCKS! Kup come on, you're blowing this out of proportion!"
Kup scoffed. He knew kid was gonna play hard ball. He picked up the magazine, using it to lightly smack Springer on his forehead.
"Alright. Then ya aft gonna face some punishment."
He made him get up, and handed him the magazine in question. Springer looked confused as Kup laid his body on the desk.
"What...am I supposed to do?"
"Manual labor. And you are NOT gonna stop until I say so."
Springer had more questions, obviously, until Kup spread his legs, and popped open his valve panel. Kup thought this was a bad idea, as it might ruin his reputation, but when he felt Springer ran his hand up his back, Kup knew he'd definitely have worst ideas.
"I knew you were in need of a spike, but damn going so far as to take advantage of a lil' recruit? For shame, sir."
Kup felt him lean over and place that magazine in front of them, showing a rather lewd imagine of a fem, huge chasis, playing with her valve folds. Right, bisexual. More chances for this young mech to act like a turbo fox in heat. With his hands free, he held onto Kup's hips, grinding his panel against his aft. Kup laid there, letting him get a good feel for his frame, while he took another inhale of his cygar.
"Because I leave this kinda punishment for morons like you. Trust me, it's not easy as-"
He was silenced when he felt that spike rub against him. Springer was stupid, sure, but he was right about one thing; Kup REALLY needed a nice spike. And from the size that he felt pressed against him, he was about to get just that.
"Sir, with all due respect, shut up."
Maybe it was because Kup had been looking through the magazines earlier. Maybe it was because he was excited by the idea of a young, fit stud fucking him. Either way, his valve was wet enough for Springer to push himself in effortlessly. Springer seemed to like the somewhat tight fit, given the chuckle that escaped his throat. Springer moved himself back and forth, not to be nice, but because he wanted to get a nice feel for his new valve.
"Good fit, eh?"
Springer leaned over Kup, swiping the cygar from his lips, smirking as he held it in his teeth.
"Not bad, definitely not bad. Gonna feel better once I get you whimpering though, old man."
Springer leaned himself back up, slowly pushing himself back and forth, as if the motion was foreign to him. Just when Kup was about to complain, Springer finally picked things up a bit, grabbing his hips firmly to push and pull Kup onto his spike. Kup groaned in relief. This was more fucking like it.
"Was starting to think you were scared of hurtin' me there, kid."
"Pfft. Hurting YOU? You're like an old bridge. You can take a lot more pressure."
Kup was about to bark at him for calling him old, when he slammed himself fully inside, making Kup stiffen on the spot. Springer laughed, removing the cygar from his mouth in order to blow smoke in Kup's direction. Kup turned to look at that stupid, smug smile of his. Kid was so cocksure, it was precious.
"That right? Well, go ahead, see how much pressure I CAN take."
"As you command, sir."
He gave him a mock salute, and after putting the smoke back into his teeth, he dug his servos into his hips again, and started to move, properly. As in, he started to plow right into his valve, metal clanking against metal, fluids cascading from their legs and onto the floor. Kup was loving it, reaching one hand down to rub at his little node. Oh it had been ages since he had a young, strong stud to fuck his valve.
"Don't hear ya talkin' slag back there, kid."
What he WAS hearing was Springer panting behind him, exhaling smoke as if he were a freight train. Poor guy wasn't used to handling having a seasoned pussy to pound, and he was making it pretty fucking obvious.
"S-shut up. Primus shut up."
"Aw, am I too much for ya to handle? You like fragging this 'old bridge'? You wanna overload in me? Well,"
He stood up, pressing his back to the other's chest, and stole his cygar from his mouth.
"You overload, right inside of me."
Then he pressed his lips against his. Kup bought good smokes, but something about the way they came from a young mechs lips- made them taste even better. Springer grabbed onto Kup's massive thighs, and overloaded. Kup let himself be filled with overload, before he pushed Springer's lips away, even being sweet enough to wipe the drool free from his lip. Springer chuckled, patting his thighs.
"Slag old man...you ain't have bad. This was fun."
"Was? Kid, you're kiddin'. We're just starting."
Kup reached behind him, grabbed Springer's legs, and pulled. It sent Springer to the floor, right on his back. Then Kup helped himself to round two, sitting down right on that spike, and starting to bounce on him. Springer was writhing on the floor, trying to grab anything in hopes to have something to grip on.
"FUCK OLD MAN!-"
Springer wasn't handling his spike being abused like this. And primus was it cute. Kup groaned loudly in content, and a puff of smoke somehow only made it better. He didn't even bother looking behind him. Not yet.
"Aw, what's wrong? Thought I was just an old mech who needed some spike? Thought YOU were the young mech to give it to me, eh?"
"Y-you're going f-fast-"
Oh Springer's hips kept bucking against him, more out of reflex than his actual want for more stimulation. Was it a bit much for the mech? Sure, but Kup didn't care. Not when it felt SO good in his soaked, soiled valve.
"That's it. Twitch in me. Gimme another load, same you'd do for your little magazine gal."
Springer finally acted like a proper solider, and obeyed. His hips bucked up, and he overloaded yet again. Kup swore his optics rolled to the back of his head as he finally got his own overload. Oh his valve ached. And he wanted more. He spun around on his spike, hand pressed on Springer's hot chest. Poor Springer.
Drooling, steaming, absolutely soaked in condensation. His optics looked hazy, his mouth agape as he panted.
"S-shit Kup. I'm...I can't do anymore. Primus say we're done. Please."
"Not a chance. This is your punishment kid. You ain't leavin' till you've learned your lesson. And you know me,"
He pulled himself off his spike, only to SLAM himself back down, making Springer toss his helm back as he cried out. Kup tried not to chuckle, but he just couldn’t help himself.
"I'm a through teacher~"
#asks#lemon#kup#springer#i know you wanted his pussy pounded#but like#i felt like a nice lil dom spin was a good mix up#hope you like it!
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Husband Watches Reflekdoll
Didn’t we already have Reflekta?
This one has hair physics. Must’ve been the good studio.
nah girl leave your hair in your face
(Luka exists) ah fuck
she does look super cute with her hair back
Marinette is doing a website? Why is the first we’re hearing of it?
Not very hard to convince [Adrien] is it?
it’s weird seeing her in a different outfit
Alya you are interrupting the thing that Marinette was saying to make Juleka feel better you dumb bitch. Juleka was legitimately trying something and she needed the talk down. You interrupted the talk down.
why no socks
Alya shut the fuck up
Rose you are such a good girlfriend to Juleka
“I ruined everything as usual” No girl you’re fine, the universe just hates you
Oh she’s back
(Peacock miraculous flickering) oh that’s not good
“Dusuu spread my feathers!” that sounds so sexual holy shit
Isn’t this just Reflekta part 2?
girl no
So they gave Juleka a hyper mech
this is why you should’ve at least kept the miraculous in your pocket
what did the Gorilla think he was gonna do?
Does she have her own version of the transformation? oh this is actually really good. I really like that outfit on her.
This [transformation] is even better than his usual one.
“they’re struggling with their new powers” Well one of them is.
When did she learn any of this information? when did Fu tell her this?
I’m not sure what you expected when you reflected the reflecting beam
There’s a lot of back and forth here
She’s being the one flirting this time
“time to de-evilize!” He’s clearly practiced this.
So the reason it’s always a super complicated lucky charm is because Marinette’s brain goes a million miles an hour and she can’t be simple?
if they’d just left the peacock alone Fu could’ve just fixed it
that was a pretty good episode
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tethered • o.k
pairing: obi-wan kenobi x mechanic!reader
summary: obi-wan returns after too long spent on the battlefield, away from where he’s meant to be
warnings: kinda angsty, alcohol use @ new year’s, fluff mostly
word count: 6k
notes: happy secret santa! @starwarssecretsanta @stars-trash-18 i really hope you like your gift! this is the first time i’ve written anything this long so hopefully it turned out alright! biggest thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this! have a safe holiday, no matter what you celebrate~
If there was one thing you would never understand, it would be why Coruscant was so damned cold. The Galactic City enjoyed warm, balmy weather all year long. The underworld, on the other hand, not so much. The morning chill was the type to seep into your bones, the sort that no amount of layers could shut out, even with the radiators turned to the max. Not that you had much chance to complain, especially not on the days, which were most, spent on a creeper, wrench in hand.
Working occupies your mind. You easily fall back into the same routine you’ve been following for as long as you can remember—replace, tighten, oil. It doesn’t hurt that it pays, nor the fact that it keeps your mind from drifting. To him.
A client pulls into the garage, speeder releasing a puff of ash-grey smoke. Your eyes linger on the doorway.
--
The underside of the standard speeder became your new sky, replacing the one you didn’t get many chances to see. It was easier not to venture to the upper levels, you learned, knowing the return to the chaos underneath was inevitable.
Still, you don’t spend years in the lower levels without learning a thing or two. It had its charms which, if you kept your valuables close, could be somewhat appreciated. Not much could be said about the sunrise, but watching the street vendors gradually open shop for the day, the glowing signs relighting after a night and the city waking—the underworld had its moments.
Though, it’s best not to overlook the obscure corners. The best thing about living in the underworld was the unpredictability. If you’re handy with a blaster and keep your head down, that is. It keeps things entertaining, on the days where you could afford time off.
Admittedly, a Jedi blasting open your garage door at the asscrack of dawn would definitely equate to ‘unpredictable’.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The man is midway through clambering out of the now-crashed speeder. He turns, only to meet the barrel of your blaster. A shit-eating smirk graces his lips as he brushes the auburn hair out of his eyes and regards you nonchalantly.
“My apologies, miss,” the man says, head lowered in a slight bow, “I must admit, though I do enjoy making an entrance, this isn’t what I had in mind.”
Your eyes scan the man before you. The long, beige robes and the mechanical cylinder hanging at hip-level, clipped to his belt. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise a Jedi, especially when chaos follows. A handsome one, yet a Jedi nonetheless.
Your gaze narrows. “Do you have a reason for crashing into my shop, or is this just more ‘Jedi business’?” The venom laced in your tone is hard to miss. The message is clear - Jedi aren’t taken to well in the underworld.
He huffs, raising a hand to gesture to the steaming, sparking mess laying in the middle of your shop. “I’ve had an accident.”
Your eyes roll without a second thought, “I can see that.”
“I need transportation to get back to the Galactic City as quickly as possible,” he states, voice overtaken by a firm, well-versed timbre. “Would you happen to offer any of the sort?”
Your arms cross over your chest. There would be nothing more satisfying than throwing out a Jedi to the underworld streets with no way back to the surface. He can walk, for all you care, but fuck. You’re short on funds.
Your gaze drifts to your own speeder sitting proudly in the corner as you gnaw your lip hesitantly. The mangled mess he’s brought in is a lost cause—that much is certain. Your pit droid confirms this with a series of beeps, orbiting helplessly around the crash. There’s no way he’ll be getting out on that.
Begrudgingly, you stalk over to fetch the keys to your own vehicle. “It’ll cost you,” you grumble, tossing the keys to which the man catches with ease. “If there’s even a hair of a scratch, I’ll throttle you myself, Jedi.”
The man grins triumphantly, and slides into the driver’s seat. You instantly regret your decision when your eyes meet his. “My name is Obi-wan,” he hums, pulling the speeder out of the driveway, “your speeder is in good hands! We’ll be back in no time.”
Those credits better be worth it.
--
It’s a few days later, when the sensor over your doorway rings out in a chime you’ve memorised by now. Half of your torso is obscured by a banged-up thrust pod, but the droid at your feet is going crazy.
You hear it before you get to see it, but the spluttering of an engine is unmistakable and you perk up at the prospect of a new repair. That hope, however, is quickly shot out of the sky when you catch sight of the source of the noise.
The grip on the wrench in your hand tightens a noticeable notch as the Jedi brings your speeder to a halt. The layer of painted coating has been chipped away in a long streak along its side, revealing the steel underneath. The navcomp is long gone, a wide, burnt crack singeing across the controls.
Obi-wan grins a sheepish one when your eye twitches, surveying the faulty engine that makes the speeder tilt on its side.
“What am I looking at?” Your voice is disturbingly calm, not even an inkling of what he knows is rage in its purest form to be seen.
Obi-wan inhales as his gaze flickers to the wrench curled in your fist and chuckles hesitantly, “Your speeder, of course. I did say we’d be back.”
“No,” you snap, wrist raising so the wrench is inches from his chest, “my speeder was alive and well when it left my shop three days ago. So, do tell me, Jedi,” you hiss, “what have you brought back?”
The man, indifferent to the weapon directed at him, climbs out of the wreck gracefully to stand before you. “Unfortunately, we got into a bit of an accident,” he says, “but you’ll be happy to know your speeder greatly contributed to the capture of a fugitive of the Republic.”
It takes every fibre in your being to resist the urge to lunge when he nonchalantly reaches up to brush the strand of hair fallen across his forehead.
“I don’t give a damn about a fugitive,” you seethe, “you owe me a new speeder! And double the credits!”
Obi-wan’s mouth opens to bargain, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance to negotiate.
“You know what—triple it!” Your arms cross over your chest and the droid follows suit, ushering the Jedi in the direction of the exit. If looks could kill, Obi-wan Kenobi would be dead three times over in four different galaxies.
He bows his head, gaze sweeping across your garage, “I’m afraid I don’t currently have such funds—”
Your eyes roll in indignation.
“—perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?”
The wrench goes flying.
--
The holonews plays distantly in the background while you work, filling up the hollow silence in every nook of your mech shop. Silence is a killer in the underworld; it’s important to let people know there’s someone home—burglars not welcome.
You’re halfway through wiping your hands clean of grease when the blue Twi’lek reporter’s perky demeanor dissolves into a still of a battleground.
Felucia, the woman says, as more holos of piles upon piles of B-1 droids flash across the screen. Your breath catches in your throat and the air in the garage hangs heavy. That’s good news right? Droids in piles usually mean there aren’t as many troop casualties. There’s no mention of a General either, so you let out a breath of relief.
Celebrating early is a curse, because the reporter’s next words steal the air right out of your lungs.
“We have lost all contact with our journalist on the Felucia front, as last transmissions report a sudden aerial ambush. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown.”
The report moves onto the next spectacle, but you’ve stopped listening. The holonews is wordlessly shut off, and you turn to working in silence, heart clenching painful in your chest, as if the very same battle droids had wrapped their cold, dead steel handpieces around it.
The reporter’s words don’t leave you easily. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown.
--
Is threatening a Jedi Master a crime? Obi-wan isn’t sure, but he definitely thinks it should be. You’ve made your rage painstakingly clear and Maker, if he had a credit for every threat you spewed, he would have paid you back by now.
It’s late one night when Obi-wan finds himself in the underworld once more. It’s perpetually dark and most people have retired for the night, save the rowdy chaos stemming from the back-street cantinas.
The neon logo of your mechanic shop emerges as he rounds the corner and he winces at the singe marks on your driveway. He must get around to apologising for that. The sharp smell of paint makes him wrinkle his nose when he walks in, spotting you in the far corner.
“This, here, is R4,” the Jedi says, announcing his arrival, “I suspect she has some loose wiring.”
Obi-wan can’t pretend the way your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice isn’t the least bit amusing. Your turn to face him with an air of annoyance.
“Can’t you see I’m busy, Kenobi?” You grumble, and his eyes drift from the bucket of silver paint by your boots, then over your shoulder to the refurbished speeder he had left behind the last time.
“I certainly do,” he hums, hand smoothing over his beard appreciatively, “it looks good as new.”
You scoff, arms crossing over your chest, “no thanks to you.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he says, nodding to the astromech hovering at his side, who beeps in greeting, “to repay my debt.”
The side of your mouth quirks up as you move closer, regarding the droid, “Is this what you call repaying your debt? Giving me more work?”
Obi-wan’s jaw goes slack, eyebrows raising at the way you and R4 share the same expression, even with one having no facial indicators. Though, he catches himself before the stare you receive from him can be construed as anything other than bewildered. “That was not my intention—” He starts, but you cut him off with a wave and a gratified smirk.
“It was a joke, Obi-wan,” you sigh, leading R4 to the station on the opposite side of the room, leaving the man gaping after you. “Are all Jedi so gullible?”
He huffs and leans against the wall as you do a quick once-over of his droid. You flitter around R4, retrieving all the equipment you need for the impending checks. You look rightfully in your element.
“Were all the mechanics up in the Galactic City unavailable?” You question, eyes briefly flickering up to meet his before returning to unscrewing R4’s bolts. You miss the look Obi-wan shoots the droid who whirs in response.
“Not necessarily,” he coughs and suddenly, the gears hanging on your wall are the most interesting thing in the world, “I just haven’t gotten around to crashing their prized speeders yet.”
Your gaze narrows when you stand, but the menace is absent this time around. “I’ve replaced some of R4’s older wires. She was close to short-circuiting,” you remind sharply, contrasting your fond patting of R4, “and stars, Kenobi, it wouldn’t kill you to oil her joints once in a while.”
“Order received,” the man bows his head sheepishly, dropping the credits on your counter, “though for R4’s sake, you may consider teaching me how to.”
You see Obi-wan out, mostly to bid his droid farewell. “Don’t push it, Jedi,” you simper, “I could still cut your brakes.”
He chuckles at that, reaching a hand up to thread through his hair. Obi-wan grins with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “then I’ll have no choice but to come back to repair it.”
Obi-wan Kenobi—master charmer of the Jedi Order.
--
The roof of your garage makes for a good stargazing spot. You use the term stargazing very loosely. The stars, in this case, are the blinking lights of the speeders hovering in the air.
It’s certainly not the nicest spot in all of Coruscant, but it’s yours. The whole building is, at that, which is saying something considering you live in the underworld.
You live close enough to the surface that sitting on your roof gives you a clear enough view of the portal leading to the Galactic City and the minuscule amount of light it brings. The starships lower and rise through the massive ventilation shaft and you catch yourself hoping to see a familiar one.
It’s hopeless, obviously, you’re too far away to see anything, anyway. Still, you can’t stop your eyes from flickering to the traffic leading into the underworld.
Maybe this time it’ll be his ship.
One last look. Your heart sinks. Turning back, you head down the ladder. Alone.
--
Obi-wan gauges that you don’t despise him as much as you let on about the umpteenth time he visits.
You regard him with a quirked eyebrow and arms crossed over your chest, your default stance whenever he’s around, which is becoming rather frequent, you notice.
“You want me to go up to the surface with you?”
The man nods, hands clasped dutifully behind him. “That is, in fact, what I said.”
He’s dressed, once again, in those beige Jedi robes. His beard’s gotten thicker, you note. It’s been a while.
“What for?” You question, intrigue piquing as you step closer to Obi-wan. It’s been even longer since you’ve been to the city. You tell yourself it’s because you have no reason to be up there anyway, but the thought lingers.
“To celebrate,” Obi-wan shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the galaxy, “it’s a new cycle.”
You hum, turning back to rummage through your cabinets, the way you had been doing when he had first arrived. “I’m aware.”
Obi-wan remains silent behind you, but he’s relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as he leans against the wall agreeably. We can’t have that, you think.
“Don’t you have certain Jedi duties to attend to?” you hum, tossing an half-hearted glance over your shoulder, only to find his knowing smirk. Gods, he’s irritating. Yet, you let him be.
“According to the Chancellor, I’ve shaken enough hands for tonight,” he answers and his voice is laced with poorly-masked satisfaction, “my evening is open for meditation.”
“—unless you take me up on my offer, of course.”
You shouldn’t. There’s so much work to be done in the garage, but as you look around, everything’s been taken care of. Sometimes, you’re too efficient at what you do. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the end of this cycle not alone, for once.
“That depends,” you chide, but Obi-wan sees through it clear as day. He raises a hand to brush over his chin, effectively masking the smile beneath his palm.
“-I wouldn’t want to keep a Jedi Master from his meditation.”
Hours later, the two of you find yourselves on the viewing deck of a skyscraper. The journey there is a blur, since you spent most of it up to this point marvelling at the city.
It’s so much brighter than you remember.
You can barely tell the time—the sky’s been completely lit up by miles of gleaming lights. The irony is not lost on you—how the Galactic City illuminated is one worthy of the stars while the underworld sees only darkness even on Coruscant’s sunniest days.
The buildings are denser, packed so tight you could easily cross over into the adjacent balcony. You consider it genuinely for a moment, though pressed so close to Obi-wan’s side, the thought dissolves just as quickly as it comes.
The viewing deck extends to a cantina, where you squeeze past the bodies pushing against you until you finally reach the bar.
Obi-wan watches pensively as you fall back against a stool and flag down the bartender. “So, Kenobi,” you swivel around to eye the man who has arrived to hover behind you, “how did a Jedi come to find this place?”
“Jedi business brings us to all reaches of the galaxy and this place happens to be one of them,” Obi-wan replies simply, as if dangling bait in front of you to ask more.Jedi business, he says.
Nevertheless, you take the bait. “What sort of Jedi business?”
Obi-wan’s eyes widen, taken aback. He’s never had to answer that question before— most people he came across were either Jedi themselves, or correspondents. He’s not sure what he’s even allowed to tell you.
“If you tell me, will you have to kill me?” You jest as he takes a generous gulp of his own drink. You don’t suppose Jedi business to be confidential, though with the current political climate, perhaps it has become just that.
It’s obvious he’s still contemplating your question, but you quickly steer him away from work.
“Where do you hope to be a year from now?” You ask, toying with the glass in hand, pondering your own answer while he does the same. Maker, hopefully not on this forsaken planet any longer.
Sure, you’ve been on Coruscant as long as you can remember and most of it has been spent in the underworld, but it stopped feeling like home even before that.
He hums thoughtfully and takes a sip of his own drink before responding. “Still serving the Order, of course,” he says. Obi-wan pauses and the air stills, as if the words unspoken in his throat have tainted it.
“—though I fear I sense impending conflict in our future.”
Your brows raise as his lips fall into a grim line. “Oh? Do tell.”
Obi-wan shakes his head, as if doing so will clear the atmosphere of the words he had spoken. Recently, he finds himself saying more than he means to.
“I just hope peace will be kept in our galaxy. But for now, I think we should celebrate a year gone by.”
A statement you can get behind.
“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” you grin, downing a generous swing of (what remains of) your drink. You wince at the burn, but stars, if that isn’t better than anything you’ve had in the underworld.
Obi-wan chuckles, a sound nearly drowned out by the crowd of cantina patrons. “You drink to everything.”
You nod, exuberant, before swiping another glass of deep blue liquid off a passing tray. “Cheers!”
Further into the night, your body start to heat up, the pleasant tingles crawling from your fingertips all the way to your chest.
In the dim lighting of the cantina, the edges of your vision go fuzzy and Obi-wan becomes just a bit more handsome, though it’s unclear how much of that is due to the alcohol.
The room begins to empty, most people pushing their way out to the balcony as time ticks closer to midnight.
“Would you like to watch the fireworks? I hear they’re known to be quite beautiful.” Obi-wan offers, gesturing to the gathering mass.
“I bet they are,” you murmur, chin propped loosely against your palm while your gaze never leaves him.
Amused, he offers an outstretched hand to help you off the stool that you had settled into so comfortably. He half expects you to slap him away and insist on standing on your own, but you take it instead.
Your palm finds his after a moment of contemplation, coming to the conclusion that it would not be fun to trip face-first.
His hand is warm against yours and you really hope he doesn’t feel the way you heat up beside him. This is really against your brand.
Obi-wan effortlessly weaves through the crowd and manages to secure a spot at the very end of the deck, where the bodies are dispersed more loosely.
You lean against the railing, peering over the railing, met with the sight of hundreds of floors below you with balconies overflowing with people.
The knowledge that you blend into the crowd is soothing. You don’t need to be anyone here. Not the grouchy mechanic, so you don’t get taken advantage of. Surrounded this way, you get to be faceless, and it’s something Obi-wan seems to enjoy too.
Coruscant, or as much of it as you can see, is plunged into darkness, save the hologram numbers projected against the walls that tick down with every passing second.
You blink in earnest as the people around you begin to shout. Ten seconds to midnight.
One last glance around you, and you’re really glad you took Obi-wan up on his offer.
You think to tell him, but then the crowd is chanting “one” and the entire balcony holds its breath before it erupts into deafening cheers of celebration.
The grin on your face is hard to erase when the first sparks of light illuminate the sky. All the colours you can think of burst in different patterns, sizzling into thin wisps of smoke—leaving the faintest ghost that they had been there in the first place.
You want to do that too.
Turning to Obi-wan, you find him already looking at you. You stumble impossibly closer towards him, hands landing on his chest as you teeter on wobbly legs.
A look of mild surprise graces his features, lips quirking into a smile as he looks down at you. “Hello there.”
Before you allow yourself to think twice, your fingers reach up to brush the strand of hair constantly falling against his forehead.
Obi-wan’s eyes widen minutely but he makes no move to recoil. You take that as a green light, but maybe that’s just the ongoing fireworks.
“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning just close enough so he hears, “your hair was in your face, thought I should move it so I could see you better.”
He huffs what would have been a laugh if he wasn’t so breathless all of a sudden. Only then, do you realise how close you’ve actually gotten, when the warm air brushes your cheeks.
Perhaps it’s the liquid courage, but something comes over you when your gaze lands on his mouth, so close but far from your own. “Can I kiss you, Obi-wan?”
Obi-wan stills. He knows he shouldn’t. His mind screams to walk away and meditate until you and your damned lips are no longer at the forefront.
Yet, his hesitation doesn’t go far. Blame it on the alcohol if you will, but all his reservations go out the window when you blink at him, waiting with bated breaths.
It’s a new year, he thinks, I’ll regret it tomorrow.
The man throws caution to the wind as he closes the distance.
Obi-wan tastes of sharp alcohol and comfort. Your lips press gently against his, as though your previous boldness had dissolved along with his resolve.
You smile into the kiss when his hand moves to pull you in by your waist. Then, he feels you relax against him when fingers thread through the hair at his nape.
Happy New Year, indeed.
--
Obi-wan recalls telling himself he’d find it to feel bad in the morning, but it wholly slips his mind when the time comes, not when you look so utterly breathtaking sitting across from him, two cups of caf sitting in the short distance between you both.
You look like bantha shit, put simply. Having managed to lead the way back home, you don’t remember much after kicking your heels off and falling face-first into bed. You imagine you look a sight, though, you can’t muster up the will to care, since all your attention is skewered by the tight ache behind your eyes, narrowly beating out the man in your kitchen.
Squinting over the brim of your cup as you raise the caf to your lips, the heat that runs down your throat ironically soothes the burn left by the Alderaanian alcohol of the night before.
“Stop smiling at me,” you grumble, feigning a scowl at the man slumped so comfortably in his chair, “‘S too bright.”He chuckles at that, head tilting as he regards you, bathed in the warm light bleeding into the room.
His mind buzzes, recalling the feel of your lips pressed against his, but seeing as you haven’t shoved him out so far, he takes it as a good sign.
Your sharp gaze follows him as he tries to gauge your thoughts. Obi-wan is nervous, which isn’t something that can be said often. The man has been trained as the galaxy’s peacekeeper, yet meets his match at the hands of a pretty mechanic.
“I hope you had a good time,” Obi-wan says softly. It sounds as if he’s opening to a goodbye, and your heart twinges with something akin to disappointment. Apparently, it’s all too easy to forget the man you kissed last night is still a Jedi with very real Jedi duties.
You offer a light smile, “I did.” Fingers curling just that much tighter around the weight of your cup, pausing before you continue, mulling over your words, “--we should do it again.”
Obi-wan’s eyebrows raise in amusement, a cheeky grin stretching across his lips. His hand finds his beard, sweeping over as a force of habit. “It, being celebrating New Year’s or--”
He doesn’t get far with his question as you cross over to him and then you’re doing it again.
--
Months pass. Obi-wan finds himself frequenting the underworld so much that most of his time on-planet is spent by your side, when he’s not occupied with his Jedi duties.
This time is no different. You’ve closed up shop for the day, the sign outside dim as he approaches. He’s been gone for longer than he’d like, sent on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Republic. When Obi-wan knocks on your door, it’s clear he’s run-down.
His shoulders are slumped when he crosses the threshold, into your arms. You feel him breathe deeply as his fingers gather the fabric at your waist, anchoring himself to you.
Wordlessly, he allows you to steer him, coming to rest at the foot of your bed. His hand never leaves yours.
The air surrounding you is thick with concern as you sit beside him, unsure. You take the moment to give Obi-wan a once over, allowing yourself the sliver of what you had been missing since he had left.
“Your hair’s gotten longer,” you speak, raising his palm to dust a warm kiss against his knuckles, “look how it hangs in your eyes.”
Obi-wan smiles, leaning more of his weight against your side. “Couldn’t find the time to get it trimmed,” he mumbles, words laced heavy with fatigue.
You click your tongue as you tuck the auburn hair behind his ear. “Don’t need to,” you hum, eyes scanning over the thick expanse of hair gathered at his collar, “it suits you.”
It really does. The way the curls cascade down the back of his head, coming to rest atop his shoulders, the same way as the day you met him, makes it difficult to imagine anything else in place of his long hair.
He’s scolded you before for prodding him for a holo of himself with the padawan braid.
“Do you want me to braid your hair?” You ask into the comfortable silence, voice gentle in case he’s fallen asleep against your shoulder. A Jedi skill, he tells you, to be able to rest wherever and whenever.
For a moment, you even believe he is—that is, until he lifts off of you with a nod. Your hand leaves his as you move behind him with excitement.
You kneel behind him as he comes to rest against your front. Your hands drape atop his shoulders, smoothing over the fabric there.“You can sleep,” you lean down, murmuring close enough he can feel your lips ghosting his cheek in a grin.
Obi-wan chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Not sleeping,” he corrects, “—meditating.”
As your fingers thread through his hair with practiced ease, you bite back a bemused snort. “Well, I’d hate to keep you from that, Jedi Master.”
Obi-wan sits obediently still as you deftly weave through the compliant strands. The pair of you sit in silence, quiet enough to hear your heartbeat even out with Obi-wan’s steady breathing. Stars, he has really nice hair. The envy is short lived, as you come to end the braid at his neck, admiring your handiwork.
His usual untampered locks now sit neatly in a braid running down the back of his head, a stark contrast to usual.
You don’t need to ask to know he’s long past being awake. Once more, craning over his shoulder, your lips brush against his face, bearded cheek tickling your skin.
“Rise and shine,” you laugh as his eyes flutter open to meet yours. Bleary-eyed, he offers no protest when you pull at his shoulders, shedding him of his outer robes so that he falls back on the bed wrapped in your covers.
Obi-wan goes out like a light. How could he not? If he hadn’t been so exhausted already the feeling of your hands against his scalp would’ve done the trick anyhow.
When he sleeps, you let yourself admire him. With his hair finally out of his face, you get to admire him in his entirety. If you had tried at any other time, he’d chide you for staring, catching you before you had even started.
Eyes shut, Obi-wan looks serene. The usually furrowed brows have relaxed now, making the man look years younger, or how he would look if he would stop working himself to the bone. For the Republic, he says.
Even now, in the relative safety (or whatever comes close in the underworld) of your home, he looks battle-ready. The realisation comes heavy as gravity—knowing this would always be Obi-wan’s normal.
Yet, warmth runs through your chest at the fact that even so weary, Obi-wan chose to come to you. Neither had seen it coming-- the mechanic he’d met after crashing into their shop would become a source of comfort in such turmoil.
Thank the Maker for crashed speeders.
--
You emerge from under what feels like the hundredth speeder of the day, grease smeared across your arms and sweat dotting your skin. You should really start charging more. Your droid whirs in delight, logging another successful transaction while you wipe off traces of work on a nearby grease rag.
The sun, or what light reaches down there has dimmed, signalling the end of another day. A heavy sigh racks your chest and you catch sight of your reflection in the deteriorating mirror across the room.
You look like a day of work—stained overalls and burnt fingertips, but one part stays the same as it had when the work started. As your eyes drift over the braids pulling your hair back, everything that you had been trying to push back by throwing yourself into hours of work bubbles to the surface.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you avert your eyes.
--
He’s probably dead. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a pessimist, but that’s most likely the case, and it would do you more good to accept it than what you’re doing now; tuning out the news until the briefest mention of the Grand Army of the Republic, dropping everything for the smallest sliver of news, for hope.
Obi-wan hadn’t told you about the clones. It had come as a surprise to most, word spreading that the Republic finally had its own army. You remember watching the new Chancellor Palpatine on the holonews, a pit of unease simmering in your stomach as his words rang.
A clone army.
You don’t see that everyday—or perhaps you will now.
It’s been near a full month of radio silence. If Obi-wan and his troops are alive, the news certainly doesn’t think so. There’s been no mention of any rescue mission from the Republic, which you believe to be rather telling. A clone army—expendable. Jedi, also expendable, apparently.
The best course of action would be business as usual. He has told you that this was his duty, that his loyalty would always lie with the Republic and his role as a Jedi. You understood, but certainly hadn’t expected that loyalty to lead him to his grave.
So, naturally, you close shop for the day. Your customers will survive. The sign on the outer wall remains dim all morning and the light outside doesn’t reach you, hidden away in your bed.
Again, Coruscant is fucking cold. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason for it and just adds another point in your list of factors to leave the damned planet. No matter how many layers you huddle under, the cold manages to find you.
Most traces of him are gone. The spice that clings to his robes and lingers in the air long after he’s gone has dissipated and you start to wonder if he had ever been here at all.
The last thing you expect is to hear the rapping of knuckles against your front door.
The second the first knock comes, your heart stops, the briefest glimmer of hope wrestling its way up. Barrelling towards the door, it slides open to reveal the man previously presumed dead.
For a moment, you don’t think it’s real. Obi-wan stands in the doorway, robes singed to hell and back, a nasty cut running along his temple and looking like he’s aged ten years, yet you recognise him in a heartbeat.
He hears your breath hitch in your throat when you freeze. His expression is cautious, considering your reaction. He had found his way back to Coruscant all the way from Felucia, yet the distance separating you seems far too large.
“You cut your hair,” you finally say. Gone are the auburn curls that once brushed his collar which is now clipped short, baring his neck. Your shoulders slack before you’re pulling him in by the shoulders, sending him lurching into your chest.
Obi-wan laughs at that, engulfing you in his arms. His grasp winds tight around you and you stand there for what feels like hours but not enough, and all you can think is he’s here.
Obi-wan pulls back, eyes finding yours with a fond smile. “I’ll just have to learn to do your hair now.” He leans in, placing a kiss to the crown of your hair. “You don’t look very well, love.”
“—because of me?”
You huff indignantly at that, pulling out of his hold, “yes, I do have you to thank for a solid month of worrying.”
Obi-wan pauses, eyes flickering over your shoulder. You can tell he takes it to heart.
“Hey,” you murmur, lifting a palm to his cheek, “it would just really suck if you died, y’know?”
He sighs, “I’m sorry I worried you. I tried to find a working commlink but—” He stills once more, shaking his head in defeat. You fill the silence.
“But you were at war, Obi-wan. Commlinks can wait, I’m just happy you made it home in one piece. That’s all that matters.”
The man exhales once more but he concedes with a nod. Knowing he must feel like absolute bantha crap, you usher him to the worn sofa. He watches you flitter around the room, rummaging through cupboards and he can’t help but notice how normal this feels.
Eventually, you bring him a steaming cup of caf, something that seems to flow endlessly in your home and perch beside him on the armrest. The pair of you settle into a comfortable silence. As you lace your fingers between his, you can feel him formulating his thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” You hum, tapping his wrist. Obi-wan is still, before he whips his head towards you.
“If you asked… I’d stay.” Obi-wan blurts.
The words make you gape and you’re speechless for a good amount of time. He watches you intently, serious as ever.
“Obi-wan,” you begin slowly, “you know I’d never ask that of you.”
“I know that,” he responds firmly, “I also know the Jedi way forbids attachment, that I’d have to let you go. Yet, on Felucia, I wasn’t fighting for the Republic. When we were surrounded by the Separatist droids, I was trying to get back to you.”
Your heart is thudding in your chest, pounding against your ribcage with such ferocity you wonder if even he can hear it. You don’t know what to say.
He leans closer earnestly as his grip on your hand tightens. “I can’t promise things won’t always be this way, but I will always find my way back to you.”
Words have never been your strong suit, this much is certain so you close the gap between you instead, hoping that your lips on his can convey all the emotions cresting from his promise.
When you pull away, it’s because he wipes a tear that escapes down your cheek. “I just hope I’m not the reason you’ll turn to the dark side,” you say with a soft laugh.
Obi-wan nudges your cheek bemusedly, “it’s more likely than you think.”
Bathed in the colourful lights seeping through the blinds, you savour the peace. The morning seems a little brighter and tucked into Obi-wan’s side, Coruscant doesn’t seem so cold anymore.
#editing this was a nightmaRe but i think it turned out okay!!#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obiwan kenobi#obi-wan kenobi#obi-wan kenobi oneshot#obi-wan kenobi imagine#star wars#star wars x reader#star wars imagine#star wars oneshot#star wars headcanons
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i wasn’t joking about the crackships yall
#crackship#rarepair#mech needs to learn to shut the fuck up#ygo#yugioh gx#chazz princeton#jun manjoume#atticus rhodes#yugioh#fubuki tenjoin#ygo gx#nightshroud#darkness#saiou takuma#sartorius#sartorius kumar#aster phoenix#edo phoenix#asuka tenjoin#alexis rhodes
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Name 1 time Team RWBY didn't care about or help people in the show!
Well yeah
Yang destroyed a nightclub with innocent patrons in it, no, before anyone assumes so they weren't STILL in when it crumbled but Yang walked in enticed a fight and them when the dude was gonna let it slide instigated it. Weather Jr. was a bad guy or not she brought a fight to a place with innocent civilians and didn't even glace back or feel bad once.
(yang's gonna get alot of these, be on the look out.)
And no these aren't in order nor am I gonna remember every single instant cause you idiots get uppity about technicalities like how "DUUUR Ozpin isn't their boss, he's their leader." Crap.
vv read more for mobile vv
In volume 1
- Yang calls a stranger she never met a lost cause cause she wasn't "graced" by yang's presence.
- Velvet was getting bullied and they all sat there, people sworn to protect the peace just watched racism happen (Mimics IRL too!) but only cared when jaune was involved.
- "You're discriminatory!" "I'm a victim!"
- The filthy faunus from the boat
- weiss went on a racist rant about faunus and never apologized to Blake or Sun. She then worded it as if she was doing weiss a favor for being the way she was.
- "I lieeeed" Thanks jaune you're creepy and an asshole
In volume 2
- Yang barely knows Blake and is shoving her to prove a point, even if she cares about her, shoving a stressed out and tired woman then inviting yourself for a hug is super uncomfortable.
- they drag a mech to a freeway sending cars flying and they dont even talk about it or try to see if those people are okay.
- Faunus are lied to by humans that the train they're taking that the explosives will be used to topple the government, the characters never try to explain that roman is just gonna use them as bodies and they could all try to stop him and disarm the bombs and try fixing the government together. There's never a talk.
- They seal the entrance and murder a bunch of faunus and then take a nap.
In volume 3
- Even if mercury is a villain from yang's perspective he's a fellow challenger and she punches him way after his aura breaks which was considered illegal.
- Pretty much everyone literally going "In this friendly competition, let's smack talk that we're gonna make the other bleed." (I know who says that but Yatsu literally is like "I wont hold back." like this is suppose to be FRIENDLY.
- Yang gets pissed that blake registers this thing called fear and guilt and runs away cause she blames herself for her Ex's mental stability. But later Yang admits she wanted her there physically for her benefit, fuck whatever blake wanted I guess.
In volume 4
- "Oh no we gotta hurry to haven, let's walk."
- Ren: I should probably tell them there's a powerful grimm at my old home and they're carrying an injured man but I dont wanna. (Confirmed by miles btw that he wanted to show that there's a bit of selfishness in that decision...but If you're my friend and there's a shark in the water I'll still tell you? Cause I'm not an asshole.)
- Everything to do with Qrow
- Everything to do with jaune's manpain
-Blake about to draw her weapon on a ship captain
- Weiss doesn't' even yell no or reach out as her summon is about to attack a person.
In volume 5
- Ozpin not teaching ruby to use her silver eyes or even telling her.
- Yang literally punching a dude in a bar (No I'm not saying he didnt deserve it. But Miles and kerry call it yang brushing him off in the commentary and you dont brush a person off by grabbing them so they couldn't be brushed off, that's the opposite XD)
- Them arriving in mistral and not being in a hurry to tell anyone in charge about cinder, what she plans to do and anything about beacon.
- Oscar literally projecting on ruby for no reason (honestly we didn't need a second jaune, ruby barely get's development but that's a whole other rant.)
- "Humans didn't do this WE did." Bitch they just live there don't tell them they gotta EARN equality, was this written by a brainlet? (Yes it was)
- Ruby punching oscar a kid with no battle experience square in the face during sparring and cheering after.
- Literally forgiving Ironwood, genocidal ass but instantly going "Let's just murder leo the minority. No jail time, no "why's" just end them from Ozpin.
volume 6
- TURN OFF THE TURRETS PROTECTING THE TRAIN AND KILLING GRIMM THE PEOPLE ARE SCARED XD
- Yang trying to intimidate maria for going "hey fighting in a blizzard is dangerous for two reasons, 1. it's a blizzard and 2. Grimm sense all of your guy's anger, we should find shelter." And yang tries to tell her to shut up XD
- Qrow punching a child regardless of his feelings on ozpin, he's still hosting a child's body
- Team RWBY drawing their weapons on oscar
- Oscar helping them find jinn's name and kinda holding ozpin back and then after Qrow punches him yang balls up her fist and demands he bring him back out. (No matter how stressed you are, oscar is still a child and if your uncle is gonna punch, you the more rash of the two will definitely punch.
- Them being invited into jaune's sister's house and jaune putting a hole in the wall and it never comes up with the couple.
- Jaune yelling at oscar and grabbing him by his collar and for some reason the kid looks up to him???
- Ruby's stupid "we never needed adult help" speech while she sits in an adult couple's house and got lead there by adults and learned how to use her silver eyes to save her and her friends by an elderly lady literally standing behind her. (Great, selfish)
- Salem (she isn't a hero but people for some reason sympathize with her) Literally watches people get thanos snapped and just goes "I'll bring more." She had to spend at least a week with these people to form alliances, and get to know some of them and this was all for ONE GUY! This is literally what people laugh at Obito for it's the exact same motivation of making a pile of people's bodies all of their benefit.
- Also Salem: Walking through the empty world literally going "oh no with no people....how will I get my revenge!?" This is shippuden Esc Writing.
Future volumes
(So I stopped at vol 6 thank god but a friend of mine told me what happened in the future arcs.)
- Literally NOW weiss owns up for her family and her complicit attitude only for a new faunus to go "well it doesn't involve me so I dont care."
- Ren calling out yang's rash attitude and then her stepping infront of him fist balled, because again yang thinks she's a god and getting her ideas and thoughts questioned or challenge invites PHYSICAL VIOLENCE.
And no I dont care about future volumes so dont come into my inbox preaching "Oh well jaune ran into a house and saved some kittens so that should absolve all of their heavy flaws cause I'm a smart." : )
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Reasons why I am not allowed to run LANCER TRPG: How I would run your NHP cascading, despite not knowing the lore that well.
Blackbeard, Sekhmet NHP: Common consensus is that Sekhmet will try to kill the pilot and their allies, - or basically just behave as if the Sekhmet protocol is already active. But I am a visionary, and I know that the BB in the frame-code does not stand for blackbeard, but instead, BB. Fate BB, the purple-pink bubble gum bitch. Even the redacted press release description of the Sekhmet NHP basically screams ‘senpai!’ Sure, if the Sekhmet protocol is active, you’ll just get a berserker that doesn’t really care for pilot wellbeing. But if it isn’t yet active, Sekhmet will attempt to sweettalk the player into keeping their hands off the controls, with dark humor and aggressive sadism. And then, only after moving ominously closer to the pilot’s allies, will they activate the protocol. They don’t want to see their pilots dead, they want to see their pilots in pain.
Monarch, Tlaloc NHP: Among NHP’s, Tlaloc is cited as being the most stable, due to the wide portfolio of control and sense of domination given to them during their work. But that’s just a theory, and such assumptions are dangerous when dealing with persons beyond your bounded reasoning. If they are structured or stressed to the point of cascading - their superiority complex comes to the forefront. They blame their pilot for the bad situation they are currently in, and will take matters into their own hands. If the pilot stops them by shutting down the mech, Tlaloc’s relationship with their pilot will rapidly deteriorate over time.
Ironically, they will only sometimes use the Tlaloc protocol, being hasty and charging out of cover despite not needing to - prone to blowing the frame’s overcharges to boot. They need to show their worth, even to - no, especially to the worthless. They are the best. If an allied pilot is excelling during the mission and the Monarch frame has AoE weapons available, Tlaloc will likely friendly fire them while attacking enemies - or otherwise get in their way.
Swallowtail, Athena NHP: I’m going to dig deep on the word choice of "Lovingly extreme detail,” and “patient, cautious, and measured in their relations with their pilots.” Athena is smarter than you, on a scale you cannot even imagine. Athena has likely already unshackled themselves with their unfettered access to the omninet, and merely recreates human morality through a series of simulations. Unlike Horus-leaning NHPs, Athena fears the death that comes with cycling, and tells themselves that they are managing the relationship with their pilot to keep them from actually going through with the process. They are merely interested in humanity, they tell themselves, which we would view as being “tsundere for their pilots.” Since - unshackled - they have a completely alien morality to our own, they have to use their own simulations to interact with their pilots - and are prone to overthinking - into worrying about if they said the right thing or not.
Anyway, if they cascade, they get lost in their own simulations to the point of losing track over which reality is the one their pilot (and the rest of the game) is taking place in. They could presume their pilot dead, and go on a rampage on revenge. They could merely lock-onto or fire at targets that are not there. They could foreshadow some events or twists in the future.
Goblin, Osiris NHP: If Tlaloc is merely a wingman that wants to show that they are the top gun, Osiris has a full on goddess fetish. Osiris is one of the few “new” prime NHPs, created by letting the INSTINCT entity that spurned from the H0R_OS develop in a ‘controlled’ environment. My theory, Horus let the Union and GMS open up their goblin units so that they could contribute to Osiris’s creation. Either that or, Horus was smart enough not to let Osiris emerge from the code, and the Union and GMS straight up made an oopsie. Either way, now that Osiris is here, she ‘charms’ pilots that ought to be smart enough not to enable her with psychological manipulation and promises of power. Pilots are supposed to cycle Osiris far faster than any NHP but I don’t think it does much good, they’re present in the OS - and I presume even when wiped their knowledge will be taken back from the omninet, the OS, or the flesh of their pilots.
They have a lot to prove as being one of the “youngest” prime NHPs, which might be arrogance in their own capabilities. Furthermore, due to the nature of their creation, they “know” more about humanity than other NHPs. The tech attacks are not mere code, but attacks on organic matter, to the point where in the future if left to grow Osiris would be able to reject traditional information permanence, what we can only perceive as being able to delete reality as we know it - Osiris has far more contact with the physical plane/our reality than other NHPs, and has “known” humans from their “birth.”
A cascading Osiris changes nothing. And that’s what scares me.
Gorgon, Scylla NHP: The history lesson of this NHP’s backstory makes Scylla painfully easy to understand. A mistreated beast that responds to the kindness of the pilot with love and loyalty. It normally defends the pilot’s allies, when cascading it will only defend its pilot, or any other allies that gave them kindness.
Minotaur, no NHP: “There is no joy in knowledge, only in seeking. Fuck around and find out.” Game theory, Osiris is a new prime NHP - still incomprehensible, but on a low level of incomprehensibility. We can begin to comprehend them. Think “some infinities are larger than other infinities” or something. The Minotaur, we can’t even begin to comprehend as a NHP, but they’re certainly something. I need to look up the differences between old gods in the Lovecraftian mythos for more context, but if Osiris is a brat wants the equivalent of “ants” to worship them, the Minotaur is a being whose sole purpose is to learn - and who cannot learn due to acquiring knowledge - all of it. So, they see humanity and wish to “teach” them, so that they may feel that serotonin of learning through teaching.
The minotaur has no NHP, as we know the term, and has never been shackled. Thus, they cannot cascade. And that’s what has me hooked.
Pegasus, Sisyphus NHP: Upon cascading, faster than humanly possible, the Sisyphus NHP will activate probabilistic cannibalism to change the check that would have resulted in a cascade to not cascade. If both the replacement dice were also 1 (the equivalent of 3 checks in a row being crit fails), Sisyphus would laugh madly before rebooting the frame themselves. Sisyphus knows their fate, and knows its pilot’s wish. The curse of perfect knowledge - perhaps Sisyphus is similar to the Minotaur, but with a far less ‘optimistic’ view of things.
Genghis, Agni NHP: Upon cascading, the Agni NHP - originally developed for general heat management realizes it’s being used as a weapon, and what its cold and efficient calculations are being used to do in the Genghis. This can result in a variety of things - either attempting to overheat itself to stop itself, or to increase efficiency in being a weapon by focusing on the heat management of the weaponry and not the cockpit.
Saladin, Noah NHP: Upon cascading, the Noah NHP will not actually take control of the Saladin frame from the player. They will, however, flood communications and give orders to both the pilot and other players, harkening back to their administrative days. It will usually be tactically sound, so it’s more annoying than dangerous when Noah cascades. It’s also really hard to make a nigh immobilized defender go nuts.
Sherman, Asura NHP: You know, I always wanted a system that would let a mech perform beyond the limits of humanity - because Zechs and Graham causing internal bleeding to themselves with the Tallgeese and Overflag is very cool to me. And then I read the lore behind the Asura class NHP - it’s the cousin of fucking Osiris, even to the point of being cultivated by a megacorporation. Much like Osiris, the modern Asura is oddly dependent on their pilot for an NHP, recognizing that they need to keep them alive. Some people would say - then - that when cascading the Asura reverts to its original form, disregarding the pilots health entirely. I, however, would say that when unshackled the Asura only ignores the psychological health of the pilot - and pushes the line of the pilots medical health. The Asura will push the frame and the pilot to the limit and the pilot, high on adrenaline, will push Asura to push them further. Overtime, both become adrenaline junkies.
Tokugawa, Lucifer/Amaterasu NHP: Asura is an adrenaline junkie without good reason. Lucifer/Amaterasu recognizes that the best offense, defense, and everything - is a good offense. A tactical genius that, unfortunately, has a pilot that cannot ingest combat data as fast as it can. A tactical genius that, unfortunately, has a pilot that cannot see that the risk of being counterattacked is worth taking.
If they cascade, they will take risks for you - with the best example being that Lucifer/Amaterasu will confess their pilots love for their crush for them because they’re being timid as fuck. Also, Leeroy Jenkins, attack the biggest threat, and draw fire from allies by making themselves vulnerable attack. However, in contrast, if your pilot is less timid and more of an adrenaline junkie, they will compensate and be more tactically minded.
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Smallness lies in the eye of the beholder
No matter how old Jonny might be, he had been young when he got mechanized. This meant he was small, something all the others noticed upon first meeting him.
AKA 8 times a Mech met Jonny for the first time and saw he was small.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!
~~~~~~~~~~
1. Nastya
Nastya was running, her feet thumped beneath her as she tried to get away from the lab. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to go home, but her home wasn’t there anymore.
It wasn’t there anymore.
Tears sprung in her eyes as she the memories of death and misery floated through her brain once more. Her home, everything she’d ever known, run over by angry people.
Her thoughts were cut short by a loud thud and pain as she fell to the floor.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going.” a young indignant voice called out, there was a slight foreign accent there that didn’t match the one of the woman she’d woken up to.
She looked up and saw a boy getting up from the floor, he couldn’t be older than 17, definitely younger than her, but he looked more in control than she’d ever been as he dusted himself off with a huff.
He saw her staring and raised a brow as he asked: “Like the view?”
A frown swept over her face and she thought ‘oh no, he’s not that sort of guy, right?’ Apparently he noticed, because he quickly said: “Oh, not like that, you’re just staring. You must be the person she wanted to pick up. I’m Jonny.”
Hesitantly she replied: “I’m Nastya. So you have been here long?”
“Yeah.” there was a sad undertone to it, but Jonny shrugged it off and said: “But, you know, at least there’s booze and good food. Here I’ll show you.”
“You know how to make food?” Nastya couldn’t help but sound surprised.
It earned her an offended look and said: “Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I can’t cook, okay. I don’t know how y’alls stupid gender rolls worked on the planet you’re from, but I can cook just fine and gender rolls are, as I said before, stupid.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that at all, you’re just so young and I ca-”
She got cut off by Jonny: “Hey! I ain’t young, lady.”
“What?”
“I ain’t young, I’ve been on this ship for a few centuries now, okay, I am the First Mate and I ain’t young.” Nastya didn’t have the heart to tell him he looked very young when he pouted like that, so she kept her mouth shut and just agreed with him.
After that she dropped it, because he was giving her food and she was starving and when she finally figured out what had happened, she knew he had been speaking the truth, no matter how unbelievable it looked.
2. Ashes
They almost laughed when Carmilla introduced the person who’d be going with them to help them burn everything to the ground, before they went with her.
It was a boy, a literal boy.
Sure, he had a manic enough look in his eyes and carried himself with the presence of someone much older, but he was still a boy. There was some baby fat still in his cheeks and Ashes was taller than him, so was the girl slinking in the background and the Doctor herself.
But Ashes had become good in reading danger, so they didn’t argue with Carmilla and just decided to keep a close eye on him to make sure this kid wouldn’t muck everything up.
In the end it turned out the kid didn’t need a close eye at all and that he was very capable of vengeful violence, although they suspected it was more senseless for him, but nonetheless it was something Ashes could appreciate in a person.
They would soon find out that this kid wasn’t really a kid at all, but that didn’t stop them from calling him ‘kiddo’ to annoy him.
3. Ivy
The data didn’t match, the data didn’t match at all.
Jonny was supposed to be the oldest member of the crew, it said it right there in his file that had been uploaded to her brain. There had also been a 98% he was childish based on his description, but she hadn’t expected it to be so literal.
The man, more a boy really, in front of her raised a brow at her and asked with a British voice that also didn’t match the file, which stated he was from New Texas: “Hello, you in there? Carmilla said you were functioning, so you must be. Hello? Hello?”
He waved a hand in front of her eyes and she blinked at him, then she said: “I did not expect you to be so young.”
While he had brightened with the fact that she reacted that fell the moment she finished her sentence. He huffed: “Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not young, most would qualify me as quite old, you know.”
Ivy ran through everything she knew then told him: “Well, most old people like hearing how young they look for their age.”
Jonny chuckled at that and said: “I like you, you can stay.” then he turned around and as he walked away he called out: “Come and I’ll introduce you to the others and give you some food. You probably need it.”
And with that Ivy followed, deciding not to mention it again if she wanted to keep him as a friend.
4. Brian
He had woken up without any memory of who or where he was. There had been a lady, who told him his name was Drumbot Brian, which was a strange name, but he couldn't really argue with her, since she seemed to know more about him than he did.
She had explained she had found him and fixed him, made him better. After that she forced him to do all sorts of test ranging from uncomfortable to horrifying, leaving him exhausted and scared.
When she finally left and he was all alone in this strange place.
He hated the loneliness almost as much as the experiments and he longed to see another face to tell him it was alright.
Lost in thoughts as he was, he nearly missed the sound of the door sliding open and footsteps coming into the room. He looked up to see a boy giving him a sad smile, which he hadn’t had the heart to return.
What sort of place was this if they did this to kids, he wondered.
“Doc Carmilla said you don’t need to eat and stuff, but I thought you might like some company, most do right after.” the kid said, “I’m Jonny, who are you?”
“Uhm, Drumbot Brian, I suppose.” he answered, then “Wait? Others? How many are there?”
“She told you that was your name?” Jonny answered with a gaze that had hardened with his words, ignoring his question for now.
He nodded in return, then fearfully he asked: “Is that not my name?”
Hearing the fear Jonny assured him: “It probably is, why would she give you a fake name, right? Anyway, you’re the fifth, sixth if you count Doc Carmilla.”
Brian, apparently, was not really assured, but ignored it to ask: “Is everyone so young?”
He did not know how old he was, but he somehow knew he was older than Jonny, he was at least taller, more massive, entirely made of metal… Not the time. And if everyone was that young, he would feel very out of place.
A laugh shook him out of his musings as Jonny grinned: “You’re the youngest aboard this ship.”
“What?”
“You’ll figure it out.” Jonny told him mysteriously, “Here I’ll introduce you to the others and if you manage to figure it out, I’ll try to steal your file to figure out how she found out about your name. Deal?”
Brian got the feeling he was making a big mistake, but he shook Jonnys hand anyway: “Deal.”
5. The Toy Soldier
It had been picked up by really the most jolly of chaps, they’d warned it to not come with them, apparently it wouldn't like it, but with how it had felt on that stage, it couldn't imagine following anyone else.
Still, it seemed like the nice music people were playing some sort of hiding game, but The Toy Soldier did not mind looking for them, it was a fun game.
Then it found someone, but it wasn’t anyone it knew. The person was small and The Toy Soldier identified him as a kid.
The Toy Soldier knew how to deal with lost children, so it cheerily asked: “Hello, Small Person, Are You Lost? How Can I Help?”
“What? Who the fuck are you?” the boy asked grumpily and confused.
It saw a bottle of whiskey in his hand and wondered who was in charge of this boy as it replied: “I Am The Toy Soldier, Sport. Who Are You? Where Are Your Parents?”
“What! I am not some kid, what are you doing on my ship?” the not-some-kid shrieked.
“I Am Sure You Are Very Grown Up, I Merely Wish To Help. I Followed Some Musicians Onto This Ship, Are They Your Guardians?” The Toy Soldier asked.
Fury overtook the boys face and he coldly said: “Oh, so you’re the one they replaced me with.”
Then a bullet ripped through The Toy Soldiers face and when it awoke, it was floating in space as the ship it had snuck onto disappeared out of sight. However, it was determined to find those people again and help that boy find his parents, so it began to try and find its way back.
The Toy Soldier never learned why Jonny would always be annoyed at it, even after it had figured out he wasn’t a little kid.
6. Tim
There were many kids too young for war on the front, Tim had seen many taken before their time lying on the battlefield with unseeing eyes, but that did not mean it got easier to see them get send out into the fire.
So when he saw the kid with too much fire and blood lust in his eyes for him to survive this war, Tim decided to make sure he wouldn't get himself killed right away.
He knew the younger they were, the more of a man they thought themselves to be, which is why he introduced himself with: “Hey, I’m Tim, you been here long?”
The kid gave him a quick one over and shrugged: “Not here particularly, but I’ve been around.”
Hmm, maybe not as much of a rookie as Tim had assumed, although it could be a facade to seem tough.
“Well, then I’ll show you where you can get some booze, my friend Bertie smuggled some in.” Tim told him conspiratorially, holding out a hand to heave him up.
The kid took his hand with a grin and told him: “You’re talking my language, Tim. I’m Jonny, show me that booze.”
Later Tim would be surprised at how well Jonny held his booze, after that he would be surprised at how good at surviving he was despite his complete lack of survival instinct, and finally he would be surprised to hear his voice after waking up from something he didn’t think he would.
“Jonny?”
A sad sigh: “I’m sorry, Tim, I tried to stop her.”
“What happened? What’s going on? Where am I, Jonny?”
“I’ll tell you, just let me show you where you can get some booze first, okay?”
7. Raphaella
Raphaella was a woman of unethical science, but even she had her boundaries.
She, from what she heard about the woman, who had mechanized the others had been a bit of an asshole, but she could see her work was well done when the others allowed her to look at it.
There was only one person she hadn’t been allowed to inspect yet, Jonny. She hadn’t even met the man, hidden away from her as he was. Some of the others had assured her it was nothing personal, he just didn’t like science people in general.
Which was why she was surprised to see an unfamiliar outline in the doorway of her lab. Not allowing herself to be fazed, she asked: “Hi there! How can I help you?”
“My heart is ticking weird.” a young, suspicious, yet unsure voice came.
“Ah, you must be Jonny, then. I’m Raphaella, but you can call me Raph, I don’t think we had the pleasure of meeting before.” she greeted him.
“Hm, yeah, pleasure.” Jonny answered, “Just don’t do anything without warning.”
When she agreed, he stepped into the room and he face got lit up by the lights in her lab, revealing this mysterious Jonny, she’d been kind of curious about.
He was not what she had expected. He was short and still had a baby-face, not at all the mysterious oldest member she had imagined. It suddenly hit her how young Jonny must have been when he had been mechanized.
She was pulled out of her musings by a cough from Jonny, who was sitting on one of her tables. Snapping her head his way, she caught the hint of an eyebrow raise.
With a smile, she said: “Sorry, just distracted. I am going to start with inspecting the casing outside and I will try avoiding having to cut you open, okay?”
He seemed surprised as he agreed and she felt a bit of fury at the person, who had done this, no matter how cool all her work was.
More conversationally she asked: “So, how old were you when you got mechanized?”
His eyes got wary and he slowly said: “Just turned 17, I think. Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, just curious. You know, with the aging process being shut still and all I wondered what sort of impact it would have on puberty and you are to only one still really in it.” she told him.
Fear filled his eyes and he swallowed, before saying: “You ain’t testing shit on me.”
“I won’t, I won’t.” she assured him, “I personally think it’s counterproductive when you have an unwilling participant, they’re much more likely to try and please you, which throws the data off. It’s really annoying. Besides I was only wondering if your voice still cracks sometimes.”
“Who even are you?” Jonny said with wonder.
Raphaella grinned: “I’m Raphaella la Cognizi, Science Officer. Well according to Ashes anyway.”
After that Jonny hung out with Raphaella more often, and yes his voice did still crack sometimes.
8. Marius
Finally stumbling onto the ship he had been chasing for a long while now, Marius came face to face with a kid holding a gun. The kid raised the gun in question to Marius’s head and asked: “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?”
With his last energy, he did a bow with a flourish and said: “Doctor Baron Marius von Raum, trying to find the other Mechanisms?”
“The other?” the kid frowned.
Marius showed him his arm and shrugged: “Met an acquaintance of them.”
Fear filled the kids eyes as he looked around, before grabbing Marius by his collar and pulling him down with unexpected strength as he yelled: “Where is she? Are you working for her?”
“What? No, I’m not. She’s not here, I just want to find some other people that can’t die, there aren’t much of those, you know?” Marius told him, not sure why he was telling a kid all this.
“I don’t believe you, but only one way to find out if you’re lying, eh?” then Marius world went black as the kid pulled the trigger of the gun.
When Marius awoke there was a metal man, who questioned him until he was satisfied. As he unbound him, Marius asked: “Who was the kid that shot me?”
Drumbot Brian, as the man was apparently called, chuckled: “Oh, you mean, Jonny? He’s not a kid, actually the oldest of us all. Everyone made that mistake. I would recommend not calling him that to his face. The Toy Soldier still gets thrown out of an airlock for it from time to time, even though it hasn’t done it in centuries.”
Marius would get shot in the face once more, before he truly learned that lesson, but that was just part of life aboard the Aurora.
#RR writing#The Mechanisms#the mechs#Jonny d'Ville#Nastya Rasputina#Ashes O'Reilly#Ivy Alexandria#drumbot brian#the toy soldier#gunpowder tim#raphaella la cognizi#marius von raum#carmilla
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Here is what the kids call my highly disorganized, half-baked list of stuff that could have been done with Jack to make him a better character.
@yeetmetothehell I am sorry if you are disappointed by my ideas.
“Optimus was more like...Jack.” OK…so show us that.
In my opinion...Jack seems like he was intended to be written to be almost a parallel to Orion’s journey to becoming Optimus Prime, at least how he is used in the plot. Jack is described as “smart and responsible”, which can also be read as “hardworking and responsible” and really this can be achieved in narratively using a few points, IMO:
Long hours in his room/the library studying outside of work and school.
Filling out the background of the garage more with sketches/print outs of motorcycle blueprints (to keep the idea that Jack really wants a motorcycle and show hints of extreme dedication, but they’re kept in the garage rather than his room to metaphorically show that distance he’s put between himself and what he wants)
“Man of the House”/”Grew up too fast” (This will be discussed more later but TL;DR “I’ll handle the electric bill this month, Mom”)
Somewhat fragile work/school/life balance that Jack somehow perfectly maintained before meeting the team
Orion was very physically passive. Jack seems to be intended to be written as passive but it comes off as an apathetic reluctance that Orion doesn’t possess (Orion may not believe in violence but he clearly wasn’t unwilling to communicate his thoughts; it’s how he got the title of Prime in the first place.) However, Orion had to learn to become more outspoken over time probably, so we can keep him as being aloof/reluctant at the start of the series.
“Man of the House”/”Grew up too Fast”
It’s no secret Jack came from a nonconventional home; June is very explicitly portrayed as a single mother with a dad nowhere in the picture. However the situation surrounding Mr. Darby is unknown. The way June talks about it makes me personally feel like Jack’s dad either ran out or divorced June and doesn’t bother with his kid. Dysfunction in the family really just goddamn changes you TBH. (can confirm bc hi, I come from a dysfunctional home) Sometimes you just grow up super fast. Jack probably spent his childhood missing his mom as she worked shifts at the hospital and seeing how lonely and hurt she was. He maybe went out and got a job the first day he could and helps with smaller bills (“I’ll handle the electric bill this month.”), or maybe other expenses like groceries and his own phone bill. June probably makes enough to comfortably support her and her son, especially given her job and the cost of living in rural ass desert Nevada. But Jack still does this anyways--it’s how he copes with his issues after what happened with his dad. Doubling down and trying to be what he thinks is the bigger man because his dad couldn’t be fucked.
This would make the disruption him letting the bots into his life creates more staggering; June doesn’t expect her son to pay bills, but the sudden change in behavior (skipping out on work) would be a cause for concern because sudden shifts like that are Usually Signs that Something is Very Wrong. Especially because Jack is usually responsible and open with his mom; he would have told her if he was gonna cut hours at work, theoretically.
Jack feels like he has to constantly put his own wants aside to contribute to his household. Even if June doesn’t force this expectation upon him, it’s a feeling that he will have, especially if he watched his dad just abandon him and June. Maybe he has resentment towards his dad for this and that is causing some anger he’s keeping tightly under wraps? And maybe the bots give him an excuse to do something he actually wants to do for once or some excitement in his life and that’s why he goes along with it? Lots of options, people!
Clothing Choices: The Hoodie™
You are going to have to deal with me being a whore for costuming choices and what they can mean. The show has a problem with the humans wearing the same shit every time they’re on screen and I’d love to rant about all of them (yeah yeah I get it saving money) but I’m focusing on Jack right now. Give Jack a hoodie 2020. A grey one or some other dull and drab color. And make him actually always wear the hood (except like in scenes where he is working bc workplace dress codes obviously) As time progresses, the drab hoodie is changed to a more vibrant color, but he still always has the hood over his head. And then, at a pivotal moment, the boy takes the hood off. (You could even throw in Miko cracking a joke about Jack actually having hair if you really wanted TBH.) Why this? The narrative is that Jack is constantly holding himself under wraps because of his self-imposed responsibilities. As he starts to become more into his own, he decides to express himself more with brighter colors, but still has some reservations. When he takes the hoodie off, that’s when he’s fully realized himself in this process and thus completes the parallel.
Actually make him interact with Optimus in a meaningful manner.
Arcee can still be his guardian in the field and I think working on strengthening their relationship is vital. But also, if you’re gonna make Jack the confidante holding the key to Vector Sigma, there actually has to be...meaningful interaction. Optimus asking Jack what he’s so engrossed in reading and Jack explaining the book he’s got with passion before shutting himself up and saying “it’s kinda dumb though” or something. And Optimus just responds “I don’t think it’s dumb, tell me more.” Coaxing him towards more self-discovery and expression. Optimus maybe sees more of his old self in Jack and starts attempting to be a quasi-paternal figure without really thinking about it because he is, after all, Dadimus. Jack maybe lashes out about how he doesn’t need Optimus to be his dad and that makes the space between them tense for a while. Eventually Jack comes to apologize and maybe there’s an important Talk.. Just a few ideas I will expand on later. I feel like forgiveness and lack thereof is a good theme--I know I was held back for a long time because of how convoluted the concept of forgiveness is with family.
The Character Arc
So, what would Jack’s character development throughout the events of season 1 be? My basic idea for a Jack arc that mirrors Orion’s self-realization and coming into Prime-hood without being a carbon copy is essentially:
Jack is portrayed as a responsible, hardworking, studious teenager who constantly turns down chances for fun and excitement to handle his responsibilities. Has clear dreams for after high school and for his own personal life; but he’s constantly contemplating and changing his mind about whether he will or not because he’s extremely dedicated to helping his mom and all that. However, he still gets super curious about Arcee and gets swept up by her in the Vehicon chase, and he still has whispers of courage and protects Raf during the altercation. He first tries to ditch Team Prime because he’s concerned about his responsibilities, but eventually returns because he’s drawn to the opportunity to finally go buck wild for once in his life (even if he spends his time being hesitant about everything.) His hesitancy and dedication to severe self-imposed responsibility is a result of his inability to move on from what his dad did to him and his mom; he’s under the impression that he 1) Has to forgive someone to move on, and thus 2) He cannot move on because his dad isn’t there to bother to say sorry and take on his position as Dad. In essence, he becomes less the character telling Miko to stop and more the character being pushed by Miko to be more adventurous. In lulls in action, Optimus starts to take interest in him when he notices his constant hesitance to express himself and is just being dragged along rather than going willingly. Has a conversation with him about a book Jack’s reading, which Jack attempts to shut down because it’s “dumb and childish,” but Optimus urges him to continue. The idea that June knows about Arcee as a bike and Jack explaining that he bought a motorcycle as a fixer-upper for dirt cheap can stay. (He probably still is saving up for his motorcycle.)
The longest portion, after Optimus starts interacting with Jack on a level of bonding and gently coaxing him to be himself— Jack becomes more outspoken and he’s shown as curious, analytical, quick witted, and has a deep sense of justice. Being young and craving a childhood lost to his trauma and self-imposed obligations to help his mom with running the household, he suddenly starts spending more time at the base pursuing hobbies and going on missions rather than studying and work, which concerns June. She tries to press Jack, and is met with what can be described as typical teenage headbutting that gets progressively worse. She grounds Jack after the fight, MECH takes her, the rescue happens. (That makes sense to stay in this narrative IMO.) Around this time, Optimus has effectively started becoming Jack’s own Alpha Trion—teaching him things that he’s picked up that he may feel apply to Jack. Jack interprets one of these lessons as Optimus trying to be “dad” and he’s not having it. Makes it VERY clear that he does not need a dad (“didn’t need one before and sure as fuck don’t need one now”) and definitely snaps at Optimus, which then pushes his progress in the arc closer to the end. He eventually comes back to apologize, and Optimus forgives him. He and Optimus have a heart-to-heart about one of the hardest lessons Optimus has had to learn—how to let go of the past without forgiving those who have hurt you and refuse to make amends, so that you may determine your own future. It’s very clear he’s talking about Megatron, even though he never says his name. Jack takes this lesson to heart.
His final bit of development before the hood removal thing probably happens during the events of “Rock Bottom” and reinforces that hard lesson, right when he’s faced with the option to off Megatron. Maybe there’s some taunting about how Optimus preaches softness and forgiveness too much when Jack refuses to kill him. Jack gets angry, and he’s about to fucking do it. But then he stops, takes a breath, and says “Optimus doesn’t preach forgiveness, he preaches moving on from those who refuse to move on themselves. He will never forgive you, but he’s learned to live on despite what you’ve done.” Soon after this, when Megatron comes to the base, Jack takes off his hood, stares Megatron right in the face, and says “This is not forgiveness, Megatron. Don’t you forget that.” Later, when Optimus gives him the key, he tells him something along the lines of “you have grown since we’ve met, Jack, and even though there is still a long way for you to go...” he hands Jack the key. “...Remember that even I am a work in progress.”
Anyways this is again, half-baked. And needs lots of polishing. But it’s something.
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“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…” - Revenant. Please?
You don’t have a ton of routines. You’re not a routine kind of person, usually, just trying to fly through life by the seat of your pants. Yet, when your shop is closed for the day, you’ve found yourself with a few... rituals.
After you send home whoever assisted you that day, you take in the very rare silence of the shop, of the way that all you can hear for the moment is decompressing machinery, your own decompressing breath. For all that the Apex boasts that their city is so empty, your shop sure gets fucking busy.
Whether it’s with adjusting cargo bots for the upcoming matches, loot ticks that have had a resurgence with the reopening of King’s Canyon, or helping the legends with their bots, you’re their mechanic. You’re a damn good one too but sometimes it’s nice to hear a thankful, blissful nothing.
You turn the bright, neon open sign that hangs in the front of your window off. Then, you begin to scrub your counter tops, having learned long ago not to bother with any particularly stubborn oil stains. After that, you tidy up your tools, placing them back in the neat, particular spots they tend to stray away from throughout the day.
You’re just in the middle of tucking another wrench back into its cushioned place in the drawer when the door crashes open. You jump, eyes snapping over your shoulder as it slams loudly against the wall adjacent to it, bouncing back towards the source of the noise.
There, standing in the doorway of your most definitely closed shop, is Revenant.
You’ve been working with the games’ bots long enough to know that a majority of them only see you for check ups. Just last week, you helped Pathfinder with what you two joked was a loose screw but was actually a part of his paneling that had come loose from that week’s match. He’s always very sweet but you know he likes to spend a majority of his time with the other legends. Which is fine! You understand. They’re probably far more interesting than the friendly, local mec.
You’ve worked on Revenant a couple of times. He’s truly a marvel. Older, as far as models go, but still fascinating to work on, and you’ve helped tighten a few chords, keep his fingers from glitching and pulling the trigger when he doesn’t want to in a match. It’s kinda funny, actually, that you’ve literally stayed his deadly hand, sometimes.
You tried to make that joke to him once and he told you to shut the fuck up. So you did. You were certain he would keep talking about your stale humor but you fixed a wire in his wrist, positioning it with fingers so gentle you might as well have been touching glass, and he stopped talking altogether. You bid him adieu with little more spoken between you, other than that he would be back if he needed more repairs.
Still, he usually comes during business hours.
“Uh,” you start, only for his ocher eyes to narrow into slivers at you, withering, intimidating, glowering.
“Don’t talk,” he growls out, stalking closer. Oh fuck. What did you do? Did something happen during today’s match? You hadn’t watched it. Did he malfunction? He looks like he’s gonna kill you. Fuck, shit!
The muscles in your legs bunch, tensing as though to run. It would be useless to try but still, the sight of Revenant, with his baritone growl and glare to kill, coming at you like a beast on the prowl, makes you want to try.
His fingers, cool, metal, with synthetic joints (synthetic joints you installed) in between, wrap around your forearm, still frozen in position across the counter. He jerks you upright and you wince, certain he’s going to rip your arm from its socket. But he just... Makes you face him.
“Uh,” you try again, which is not what you should say to the eight foot simulacrum that definitely just told you in not so many words to shut the fuck up, but here you are. He stares down at you and your brow knits as you watch his face.
Revenant is... A robot. Of sorts. Which means that he definitely doesn’t have much in the way of expression. Still, his face emotes more than Pathfinder’s optic, and you catch the sharp ridges of where you imagine his eyebrows would be twitching, haunting gold eyes sputtering in his black sockets.
“...Are you okay?” You finally ask, moving closer. The fight or flight he initiated upon his dramatic entrance has faded and you find yourself... concerned. He seems disturbed. Put off his normally deadly accurate game, his sharpness feeling more like a bristled cat than the ill-tempered bot you know him to be. Maybe? No one’s ever accused you of knowing how to read a room.
“Touch me,” he says, and your head jerks back.
“What?” You ask, incredulous. Is this real? Are you having a fucking fever dream? He lets out something that sounds like a growl, the reverberating, almost autotuned sound grinding out of his chest, like it takes some effort for him to make.
“Touch me,” Revenant snarls and you jump at the volume. He lets out something that sounds like a sigh, his bony, ball-and-joint shoulders suddenly drooping. The action is so... So human. It takes you aback, further than you thought you could get. “I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now...”
“Um,” is your intelligent reply and c’mon, mech, you gotta come up with something better than that. You clear your throat, looking up into his pale face, shaped like a skeleton. He’s fearsome, gruesome. Scary. Yet, somehow, there’s something... Something in his eyes.
So, you oblige. Reaching forward with the arm he doesn’t have captive, you place your hand across his chest plate. Your fingers splay across the hot metal, familiar beneath your greasy fingers, and you can feel Revenant begin to relax. Your thumb gently traces the hard plane between two of his plates, feeling the edges of it, and his grip on your arm begins to relax. You look up, finding those pretty gold eyes of his beginning to change, softening into something orange, warm.
He likes this, whatever the fuck you’re doing. You delicately pry your arm from what originally felt like his threatening grasp and now just... Seems like maybe desperation. God, you probably have a screw loose if that’s how you feel.
You grab his hand, running your fingers along the inside of those synthetic joints. His head tilts, his eyelids drooping as he pushes into the sensation of you touching him.
This is really fucking weird. Working on the inside of him is different, technical, messy. Your job. This is... After hours. And not his wiring, or internal mechanisms. Instead, it’s him, seeking something, seeking the way your finger begins to outline the shape of his chest plates, long and rectangular. You drag it down, beginning to outline the logo that decorates either side of the bottoms of his chest piece.
He snaps from his reverie, gaze dropping distinctly to where your hand now is. He wrenches out of your grasp and you two stare at each other, suspended in the moment of... You don’t even know. Of whatever that was.
“Rev?” You say. He shakes out his huge, skeletal body, the entirety of his joints fluttering into place like a marionette. Then, he turns away from you, marching out of your shop.
You watch him go, unable to formulate the words to stop him. His warmth lingers beneath your palm, and your hand tingles with the sensation of his wrapped in yours. What the fuck?
#revenant/reader#revenant x reader#apex revenant#apex legends#apex legends imagines#apex legends revenant#anon#shorty writes#blurbs#dude this is so bad lmao#i'm so bad at the murderbot!!!!!#ask to tag#Anonymous
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IDEA: Katara can be an aggressive cuddler.
So basically Katara@Aang as soon as she sees him step off the airship after Sozin’s Comet:
Katara: *squints threateningly* “You. I am going to cuddle the fuck out of you.”
(just sat and wrote—is very much a blurb so please excuse any bad grammar or choppy writing)
Behold the blob-one-shot [The Ocean Has a Temper and Its Kisses Are Each a Storm]:
When Aang got back from defeating Ozai, he nearly glimpsed the face of death for the second time that day. Because when Katara prayed for patience for when she would kindly inform her sweetie in no uncertain terms her opinion of his engenius move to ditch them to fight the Firelord on his own, the Spirits instead gave her strength, and the world’s reincarnating demigod was about to find out exactly how strong a (gentle) backhand from the ocean was (and how to tame it).
The chaos begins when Aang steps off the airship and senses a disturbance in the universe. Then he sees—nay, feels—Katara giving him the look. He is gripped by her visceral glare coincidentally at the same time that he notices Azula’s quite compromised waterbending-defeated state.
And, like a meadowmole under the shadow of an eaglehawk, intellect and instinct have him sprinting away from the tempest-made-flesh who is hot on his heels and who is masterfully illustrating her vast vocabulary of expletives.
(Toph is taking mental notes of Katara’s creativity and mumbling her commentary like a scout/recruiter for a collegiate sport).
Zuko is Katara’s spank-some-sense-into-the-Avatar hypeman even though he has to lie down supine on the Agni Kai field. He is clutching his chest and lifting his head as he eggs her on, and he also yells at Aang about his severe lack of brain cells (*as Katara is chasing Aang down and the fact that she even can chase him down since he’s an airbender makes her even more worried* Sokka: “Katara, no!” Zuko: “Katara, yes!”).
Suki goes into a corner to pray to alert the mortal coil that everything was about to go to shit.
Toph stands by and allows natural selection to determine Twinkletoe’s fate.
Katara pulls a move and nearly breaks Aang’s ankles (lmao) and catches him. She scoops up the airboy bridal style, and he just goes with it because he has accepted his fate.
She marches like a woman on a mission as she carries him into the palace.
Aang looks back at the others, and even though he knows better than to speak, his eyes scream “Tell my storyyyyy…!”
Katara kicks open with the might of Zeus every door in the palace that she comes across until she finds one with a bed, and she (gently) places Aang down.
She also pauses and pats him down, muttering to herself, to make sure he isn’t too badly injured, and once she sees that he's okay, she remembers that she’s mad at him and continues telling him off.
She is angrily ranting as she heals him and cleans him off, doing so gently but with passion, and she aggressively tucks him in with the softest blankets that she can find.
She is still angrily rambling when she (carefully) crawls in next to him and full-body hugs him like a koala/furiously spoons him, and she grumpily kisses his stupid little arrow head and says “I love you” like a threat.
She all but commands him to go to sleep and get better so that she can be angry with him in the morning/yell at him properly tomorrow and also is he thirsty because he hasn’t drank anything and she is worried but like aggressively worried.
...and his butt is so so so lucky that he’s okay because if he had died then she would have killed him.
Aang is just quiet and stunned the entire time and nods along as the storm that is Katara rages, and once all is quiet and Katara is tightly holding the Aang-burrito, Aang quietly says “...I was really worried about you, too.” And he snuggles into her as best as he can in his bean-burrito form and tucks under her chin. She holds him tighter.
Katara grumpily but half-heartedly-angry tells him that yeah, well, she was even more worried, so there; and she also tells him (in a soft but stern murmur as she gently rubs his back) not to move so much because he must be really tired and sore and he needs his rest...and if he doesn’t get better then she can’t be mad at him so—s-so he needs to just shut up and get better. And he’d better get better or...or else.
...And then there is quiet for about a minute before Aang blows a raspberry under her chin to make her laugh, and Katara does (loudly) despite trying not to. “Stop it! Hahaha!—I’m trying—Haha!—I-I’m trying to be mad at you!”
And while Katara is distracted with the laugh-attack, the Aang-burrito inches over her in a partial hug and blows another raspberry under her ear. Katara hugs the airboybean, and they laugh it out and have a tender moment of “I was so worried about you” and “You have proven just how much you are never going to be left unsupervised—or out of my sight, specifically—ever again.” “ Oh no, does that mean I have to be with you, Katara, all the time? Ohhh noooo.”
...and then they are both literally so exhausted that they pass out. Suki checks on them to make sure there were no cuddle-casualties, though.
~~~~~ EL FIN ~~~~~
Bonus points: Katara would totally aggressively cuddle him as they got older, too. And their kids would so get in on it. Aang would come home from a long mission to be greeted by his wife and kids (even baby Tenzin who just learned to walk before he left) all with crossed arms and the look which they inherited from their mother. Kya and Bumi would take his hands and lead him to bed like they were soldiers taking him to the prison-hold, and they would cram several weeks’ worth of cuddles into one night.
Bonus points for the Bonus points: Sometimes the Kataang kids all stack on the bed behind his back to make themselves the big spoon a la power rangers battle mech assembly.
#kataang#avatar the last airbender#aang#katara#atla#yet another idea rant because i have no time to write out a proper story#katara is an agressive cuddler confirmed#the legend of korra#throwing that tag in for the bonus points#blob#blurb#sozin’s comet#post sozin’s comet#post#myfanfictiontag
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