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earthstellar · 4 months

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Just jolted awake at 5 AM to share this idea lmao:

Cosmic Storm: Accidental Alt-Mode Swap Scenario

Some kind of cosmic electrical storm hits the Lost Light and everyone switches alt-modes

They can't figure out how this is even possible, best they can figure is that one of the waves of cosmic electricity rolled over the ship and bypassed their shields enough to affect the crew, just this huge arc of space electricity scrambling everyone all at once

And as it arcs from crew member to crew member (and zaps the shit out of the ship too), somehow this messes with everyone's systems enough that their t-cogs all attempt to reboot while everyone is still connected by the cosmic storm energy

Which results in everyone's t-cogs getting alt-mode data confused, as everyone simultaneously tries to stabilise their systems by purging stored energy so they don't get fried, so because they're all connected by this singular pulse of space bullshit it's like one massive accidental transfer of spark energy, personal systems data, and cosmic electroshock

It's 5 AM sorry if I'm not explaining this very well LOL

But nobody dies, and their systems actually seem to be relatively OK afterwards as far as they can tell, so nobody actually realises there's a problem until First Aid and/or Ratchet asks everyone to book in follow up appointments for full systems checks just to be sure

And as part of checking t-cog function whoever the first patient of the day is gets asked to transform briefly as part of a physical exam designed to help spot any non-critical t-cog damage

And there's no t-cog damage, not to the t-cog itself. Scans come back okay, everything looks good, so OK, time to proceed with the transformation test. Root mode to alt-mode, and then back to root mode.

If the t-cog and associated systems are functional, it should be pretty straightforward.

And the bot does successfully transform...

..Just, into the wrong alt-mode.

And immediately, The Problem Of The Day becomes clear.

Gradually people around the ship figure it out on their own as well, while the Med Bay staff are trying to figure out what the fuck is going on

Over in the Science Lab, Perceptor is messaging Ratchet frantically because he's realised the problem as soon as he tried to switch into his alt-mode to study some samples of a metal panel from the ship which has some damage from the cosmic electricity and uh oh turns out he's a fucking helicopter now

It's a problem that also alters their root modes, but only after their first transformation post-space storm. Something fully triggers whatever is wrong with their t-cog data only once they enter alt-mode, their root modes then re-configure to accommodate these changes following that initial "wrong" transformation sequence.

They have their own colours, their paint nanites etc. remain the same as always, but their modes have changed. So they get any kibble etc. that might come with that new alt-mode.

So Brainstorm goes to pick up some energon for both of them, then comes back and Perceptor suddenly has rotors and holy shit

Eventually everyone on board figures out something weird/potentially bad is happening with their t-cogs. Some people are too scared to test it and find out, while others immediately can't resist their curiosity or think it's better to figure out as soon as possible so they can adapt, and test it as soon as they hear some bots are just turning into completely different things, totally reconfigured.

This could be fun, also sort of terrifying (there is potential for body horror to some degree), and either way it's chaos.

When Drift triggers his alt-mode, he turns into a cat-- Seems like he's got Ravage's t-cog data. Nobody can find Ravage, and Megatron makes it clear that he'll be the only one to attempt to find him.

Rodimus turns into some kind of aqueous vehicle. Maybe Camien in origin. (Turns out it's Nautica's t-cog data.) He's fine with it as soon as he realises he's space flight capable for short distances and Magnus has to talk him out of trying to race the ship.

Of course, because it's Nautica's t-cog data, when he reverts back to root mode, he has a distinctly femme Camien-style frame. He loves it, because his armour isn't as heavy in this form, so he can go faster. (Once this is all over, he is strongly considering keeping some of these femme frame alterations...)

And if you want to use this as a setup for any shipping, yes indeed, some bots inevitably try to test out their newly altered frames with their partners or amicas. (The medical staff all advise against this because oh god nobody knows all the functions of their new systems yet, please do not end up in the Med Bay with "makeout related injuries" they are dealing with so much right now LOL)

Anyway my moving date is 25/01 but as soon as I'm settled into my new place I might turn this into a fic if I have time lmao

#rodimus #idw 1 #idw transformers #mtmte #lost light #maccadam #maccadams #idw drift #idw ratchet #megatron #perceptor #idw brainstorm #idw nautica #transformers #idw ravage #simpatico

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botboots · 8 months

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Hey! I'm probably SOOO late to transformers fanfics and one shots but I've come with this prompt,( I hope you like it enough to write it!) could you write Ratchet x injured reader, g/n or female. Injured shoulder, and maybe trying to hide it from him? Also in Tfp? If all this isnt too much to ask? Thank you for considering! Have a good day/ night

a/n: heehee this one was fun. the dialogue is kinda splotchy because theres a lot going on in my brain rn but!! hope you like it <3 also reader is cybertronian bc there are NOT enough cybertronian!reader fics out there and theyre very fun to write tbh. hope thats okay!!

ALSO! guidelines have been updated so before anyone submits a new req please read it! and please please request mirage/rotb fics oh my god im obsessed with it ROTB WAS SO GOOD </33

warnings: very minor injuries, pining <3 word count: 1059 (GN, cybertronian!reader) continued under the cut

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The purple and green swirl of the ground-bridge closed behind you as you followed your team back into base, the lingering energy buzzing under your plating.

Glancing at Bumblebee, a small twinge of pity struck you as he made his way over to the medical bay. The scout had taken a few nasty punches from Breakdown and clearly wasn’t feeling too hot; dents littering his armor.

“We showed ‘em, huh?” your focus was snatched when Bulkhead caught you off guard with his usual celebratory elbow-bump, sending you stumbling a little from the force. A sharp pain ran up your arm to your shoulder and you winced.

“Yea- totally.” sending the wrecker a strained smile, you gave him a half-hearted push back. He tilted his head, about to open his mouth to ask you something when Miko booked it over to the two of you, questions spilling out of her mouth at a mile a minute. All of them were something gore or violence related, asking Bulkhead if he got any pictures of some “hardcore massacre-ing”. The girl's interests were a little concerning, but endearing. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to slink away and avoid any more attention. Angling your helm, your face scrunched up at the sight - and feeling - of the wound on your shoulder.

Too focused on the fight in front of you, a stray Vehicon had been able to sneak up behind you and catch you by surprise. Fortunately for you, Vehicons were mass trained for quantity over quality and didn’t have the best shots. The blast grazed your shoulder, tearing between some of your paneling to the barely exposed wires. It hurt like a bitch at first, but adrenaline buried it enough that it wouldn’t distract you - plus it was small enough that none of your team noticed. Now that you were back at base, though, the piercing sting prodded at your processor incessantly. You did want to go and see Ratchet about it - always finding some kind of excuse to be around the mech - but he was dealing with Bumblebee right now, and you didn’t want to add to his plate. Not like it was anything life-threatening, anyway. You could just try and patch it up yourself - you’ve spent enough time with Ratchet to pick up a few things yourself.

You stole a glance at said medic, who you only just noticed was looking right at you. Immediately you realized from the questioning look on his face, raised brow and all, he had probably caught both your reaction to Bulkhead bumping into you and the grimace you had made at your shoulder. Optimistic, you shook your head at him, giving the mech a meager thumbs-up and a “I'm-actually-totally-fine” smile. He gave you a hard stare, and your spark sank when he motioned you over with a flick of his digits. You begrudgingly made your way over to the medical bay. As you neared, Ratchet had already cleared Bumblebee and was shooing him out. The scout passed you, and your attention was focused on Ratchet waiting with a cocked helm and his ever-present RBF. Standing awkwardly under his gaze, almost scrutinizing, you huffed. Without a word, the red and white medic picked up his scanner, turning it on with a loud click and running the green laser over your frame.

“Really, doc - I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you tried, and failed, as he kept the device lingering at your shoulder. With a deadpan look covering his faceplate, he put the scanner down and placed his servos over your shoulder plating. You grit your denta to keep a pained hiss from leaving you, wincing when he felt around the frayed wiring.

“Nothing, huh?” you pouted at his scoff, his metal brows knitted together as he examined the shot that had barely missed doing any serious damage. “Sit.” he ordered, gesturing to the medical berth while he moved to grab some tools from a nearby counter. Embarrassment was settling in your chassis, but you did as you were told.

It technically didn’t take long to patch you up, but the old mech made it seem like eons to you with the way he was muttering about “some of the team having egos too big for their own good.” It only made the burn of embarrassment grow, and you ducked your head when he gave you a pointed look. Ratchet was nothing if not thorough in ensuring you knew when he disapproved of something.

Soon enough he finished up, giving the patched wound a once-over.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” he questioned, the familiar lilt of sarcasm back in his tone. That at least steadied your nerves a little.

“No, sir.” you mocked, raising one of your servos in a half-assed salute.

He scowled, crossing his arms, “I’ll have Optimus enforce mandatory health checks every time you come back to base.”

Frantically shaking your helm, you raised both servos defensively, “Okay, okay!” you sputtered, “Won’t happen again.” His optics narrowed, giving you a hard stare, and you released a heavy sigh. “Promise.”

Ratchet debated it for a moment, still having half a mind to just assign the checks anyway, but as you kept your optics trained on his, the mech’s will buckled and he huffed a quick, “Good.”

You both were staring at each other for just a moment too long before Ratchet gave a quick cough. “Come back if the pain flares up again.” he waved you off as he made his way back to his usual spot at the terminal. You blinked, watching him walk off with a slightly heated face. Awkward. Hopping off the medical berth, you were careful not to irritate your shoulder and mess it up more than it already was. As you walked past Bumblebee he whirred to grab your attention. You paused, turning your head to him with a raised metal brow.

The scout chirped at you teasingly from where he sat, nodding his head way too obviously towards you and then Ratchet, who was already burying himself back in his work. Your optics widened, immediately narrowing into an offended glare as you jabbed a digit towards him.

“Don't. Even.” you grumbled, folding your arms and walking briskly away from Bumblebee’s poorly stifled, chittering laugh that echoed behind you. Your previous pity for the mech quickly dissipated as your faceplate burned. Primus.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #tfp x reader #transformers prime #transformers ratchet x reader #tfp ratchet x reader #ratcher x reader #transformers fanfic #tfp fanfic

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desultory-novice · 8 months

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"Brightest Star"

Dumb, boring stuff like die where you'll never find me...

[Apologies AU] “Apologies” “One Sneeze” “Summer” “A Walk in the Snow” “The Swordsman” “Wonderful Gift” "Damnation" "Salvation" "Unstoppable" "Brightest Star" [You Are Here]

[Apologies AU Masterpost]

[Next] “Sibling Reunion”

...

It's done. To be honest, with this, Apologies would normally be complete. The tragic story of the death of Adeleine's brother and the birth of Dark Matter Swordsman has been told.

...But you guys asked me a bunch of questions early on like "What about Gooey?" and "Does Adeleine ever reunite with Noir after his transformation?" and also tearfully begged me to give the siblings a happy ending so there is, in fact, more to the story!

THAT SAID... I put a lot of things aside to focus on finishing these last three comics in good time and I am completely SPENT! Thus, I'm announcing a) that Apologies is going on semi-hiatus and b) when it comes back, it's probably going to look... a lot sketchier.

I used this comic series to practice my inking and other skills but now that I've proven I can do it I'd like to not have to break my wrists worrying about that and focus on just finishing it up.

PS: If you think panel six looks familiar...you're right!

......Btw, if the hiatus goes on too long or I decide I'm just not feeling up to finishing this story in comic form, I will drop the rest of the script in a document just so the story isn't left on a cliffhanger!

There are some good parts coming up though (and a gimmick I specifically want to try out) so I do want to give it a shot~

I also have a "cheat" happy ending in hand that is much, much shorter than the original ending that I can provide in such circumstances. (And might draw anyway because it's a little fun!)

#Kirby #Apologies AU #Adeleine #Noir (Human-form DMS)#Dark Matter Swordsman #Dess Comic #CW: Angst #Long Post

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creativitysparks4everxoxo · 10 months

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It's the little things: A Mirage Appreciation Post

**Transformers: ROTB spoilers ahead!!!**

Now it's time for me to talk about all the little things that Mirage did in ROTB that made me smile. I know, I know, I could just say "exist" and that would cut this post hella short and save me some time. But where's the fun in that? 🤪 My ROTB brainrot is bad!

There is no order, because Mirage is a rebel and I like that. I like it A LOT!

He messed with Noah by re-locking his door twice before he FINALLY let Noah enter. But then when Noah wanted to peace out because he realized that stealing Mirage may not be so easy after all, MIRAGE LOCKS HIM IN!!! He really said, "You're not going anywhere. You're mine now!" and then proceeds to kidnap Noah. Kidnapping is no laughing matter, but omg I just found that hilarious. 🤣

Mirage asked Noah multiple times to give him a little tap, and it was nice to see that in this moment Noah slowly became relaxed around Mirage and no longer felt scared of him.

*Noah falls hard on a bunch of junk after failing miserably to discreetly escape the Autobot meeting he was not invited to* Mirage: He's perfect!!! 🤣🤣 Basically, Mirage saw his new human friend try to escape and he thought nope! Let me rope him into our mission so that I can spend more time with him. He's slick af! 👀

I like how chill and reassuring Mirage is with Kris. He knew that moment with Noah and Kris is delicate, because Noah is trying to convince his little brother not to worry, even though he knows he's about to go on a very dangerous mission that he may not come back from. Kris tells Mirage to watch out for his brother and Mirage says, "You got it, little man." and reassures Kris that he's got Noah's back and promises that he will protect him. And he does! He freaking keeps that promise!!!!! 🥲🥲🥲

The sad look on Mirage's face when Noah rushes passed him to comfort Elena and make sure she's okay after she is safely rescued from a corrupted Airazor. He even tries to reach out a servo because he probably feels so bad that Elena was almost killed, and now Noah is freaking out because Elena was almost killed. The moment is brief but it was very sweet. He cares so much! 🥲🥲

I love, I mean FREAKING LOVE the scene when Mirage tries to peek into Kris' bedroom window to see what him and Noah are up to. I love this scene so much because he really could not help himself! It's adorable! He even tries standing on top of another car and of course the car is not strong enough to support his massive frame. But he tried! He really tried to be discreet and take a little peek because he is an alien robot, so it's natural for him to be curious about humans. And more importantly, curious about Noah. 🥺

That look on Mirage's face when Noah initiates a fist bump before he heads out to distract Scourge to buy Noah and Elena time to shut down the transwarp key control panel. It's just so AHHHHH! He's so happy and he just takes a few moments to look back at Noah. His smile in this scene is everything. 🥺

Mirage used his last remaining bit of strength to power his built in walkie talkie so that Noah could talk to Kris. And then he transformed into an exosuit and fused with Noah's body as a last, desperate attempt to protect him. 🥲🥲🥲🥲 I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING!!!!

"But what about for friendship? 🙂" I'm sorry, but that line KILLS ME! 🤣 It's sooooo cheesy but it's just so funny to me! Mirage has known Noah for like 10 minutes and he is so eager to be friends with him. It's really cute.

🌟 Edit: Since I got called out QUICK for not adding it (I wanted to see how fast people would react to that line not being mentioned 🤭), here it is:

"*scoffs!* Work friends??! You've been inside me!!!"

Yeah, I'm convinced that Mirage knew exacty what he was doing when he said that and he is 100% that bot that will not hesitate to remind you of his awesomeness. He is not a "work friend" and "work friends" just sounds too formal and weird in this particular setting. He also could have just been oblivious to the sexual connotations associated with that line because he is an alien robot. But then again, somehow I doubt that. He's seen movies and has most likely been to drive-in theatres. I bet he said it to get a reaction out of Noah. Yes, that sounds more accurate. 🤣

Yeah, so basically Mirage is best bot and I think Pete Davidson absolutely nailed this role! 👏🏾 He gave it his all and he actually became Mirage. I thoroughly enjoyed Mirage throughout the entire movie and he better be in the next movie. 😤

🤩😍🥰

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blackstarchanx3new · 24 days

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I love how you draw Ganon, he kinda looks like humanoid Bowser. But more fun.

This entire post is riddled with FSR spoilers and FSRA lol. Beware cause of spoilers. XD

I think you mean him. This is Shadow Link. X'D

Funny you say he reminds you of bowser cause his voice head cannon for me is Bowser from the mario movie. XDDD (I've had the stupid Jack Black HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME song stuck in my head with this guy)

I happen to like him a lot too haha.

I am not used to drawing beefy men at all so he was very experimental but I had a VISION. ✨

I usually just call him "Demon King" Since in FSRA Shadow Link splits himself into four versions of himself.

Demon King (The big guy)

Puppet - Two toned hair

Doll - Shadow link from FS but is more doll like.

and I just dub the last one "Sleeping beauty" and I can't say much about him.

His general design takes a lot of inspo from Wind Waker Ganon and Ganon's pig transformations.

Wanted him to be a BEAST.

I only drew the real Ganondorf for a few panels in FSR haha.

As stated here the reason Shadow ends up looking like that is because he's sort of a reincarnation of Ganondorf in FSR and ends up looking more pig like from the triforce of power +

When else do I get to bring up the stupid edit? XDDDD

#four swords returns #four swords returns au #four swords manga #four swords adventures #four swords #loz fsr au #loz #shadow link #fsr #ganon #ganondorf #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #zelda #shadow link fsr #fsra #four swords returns again

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retroautomaton · 9 months

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howdy! I'm also a robot enthusiast and I'm trying to get better at designing robot characters. I absolutely adore all of your robot designs, especially the sweet salt cosmonauts! do you have any advice for designing robots?

Ohh thank you~!! ✨✨

The biggest advice I can give is to study the functionality! That’s the most interesting part of robots to me, and influences all my designs. You definitely don’t have to understand the mechanics completely, but getting an idea of the basics, and knowing what the function and purpose of the robot is, and what parts help to carry out that function, is always a good starting place!

Here’s an example of how I was mostly focused on the saw mechanics of the shoulder, because that’s what was important to the story, and made the rest mostly aesthetic driven.

Whereas with Thylo, I had an idea of how I wanted his legs to look, and built the mechanics around that, to serve the aesthetic, but it also plays into his motion, and how he stands, and his balance.

For Snap, both her new and older designs are more personality driven, and wanted to keep her more ‘human’ elements more round and approachable, and her mechanical parts sharper, to sell that they’re weaponry, and that she’s both kind and a fighter. But even her sharp aspects are never perfectly straight, keeping it fun and light-hearted.

Her’s is also a transforming design, and every little piece serves that function, especially the head area, and I consider how the panels will fall or open, or attach. Again, it doesn’t have to be mechanically accurate, but if you’ve got a solid idea of how the physics work for the character, it really sells the design!

Even for less humanish designs, you can give a clear idea of the robot’s function through decals, or how it affects the environment/other characters.

Here’s a little example: let’s say I wanna make a robot whose purpose is to lift boxes on top-shelves, and bring them down to a pallet. It would need a way to see the box, a way to reach it, and to push it onto the pallet.

So, I’ll play with the idea of his functionality first. I could go with some sort of scissor lift, or hydraulic system, but I settle on mostly a telescoping mechanism, and build a little warehouse, or dock worker aesthetic around him.

In short, I’d say just study mechanism that interest you, play with their shapes, their motion, figure out the purpose or character of your robot, and how they function, and what ways you can best convey that through their design! Hope this helps! ✨

#sorry if that’s too rambly or incoherent I could go on for days about robots so I tried to keep it short #I didn’t even get into the degrees of freedom or end effectors lol #I guess it’s similar to drawing clothing in that it doesn’t have to be practical or realistic so long as it makes sense for the character #or the story or environment #but thanks so much for asking and hope this helps at least a little! ✨⭐️#asks #Thylo #Snap

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naomistares · 3 months

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hello i am new to your blog but your art is astonishing amazing always a pleasure for my eyes ‼️ the tlt comics are so freaking good ‼️ what r some of your art tips 4 ppl who wanna make art/comics ⁉️

HIII i just woke up! thank you for the lovely message

hmm some tips for comic making. as someone who has a. 1.5 month experience in that. i would say planning it.. the first thing i do is go back and reread whatever scene i want to make into a comic and zone out and try to imagine every page in my head.. my mind palace. if the image is clear and i can physically write down every single panel and every page in a little outline then i can probably do it! if the plot gets lost in my head and i lose track of the flow of it all then it will be a struggle.. it's not going to be fun if it's a struggle!

start out with a few pages! i started out with doing just 4.. and then started doing longer stuff!

if you're having fun you will find that everything will turn out good! but it's nice to try out new techniques and stuff out of the comfort zone, i think colors and lighting are very important and i spend the most time on it, the entire thing looks so plain uncolored but literally transforms with the right colors and lighting

i kinda suck at giving out general tips but i'm better at answering specific questions! if anyone has that feel free to drop 🫶🫶🫶🫶

#guys the first comic thing i did for tlt was in mid december lmao #when u draw a lot u will improve its true its true #it will get easier and u will find a process that works

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rubydubydoo122 · 23 days

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In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> the joker

They appeared on a bench in a mall that looked like it came straight out of Stranger Things. It wasn’t abandoned or anything, it just looked very 80’s. There were way too many mullets, Shoulder-pads, and he was blinded by the bright colors.

Dick and Jason immediately looked at each other, and said, “You’ll fit in perfectly– what? Me? Stop!”

“Dick, you literally did the deep V and the Neon button ups–”

“You went from 80’s prep- with high waisted jeans and the sweaters over collared shirts– to Grease–”

“That’s from the late 70’s you dolt, and you did the black leather Jacket look first, and–”

“You’ve never had an original outfit in both of your lives.”

Jason went quiet as he waited for Dick to realize he just proved his point, but Dick’s face contorted like he said something wrong.

Both of your lives . Jason snickered, of course Dick would feel like he struck a nerve saying that. “Yeah, I haven’t. I usually copied you and Bruce.”

Dick blinked as he connected the dots, “Go fuck yourself.”

Jason turned to Bruce, “Bruce, Dick said a bad word.”

Bruce moved to sit in between Jason and Dick, and searched the crowd, “We are in the 80s. Not some sort of recreational area.”

Dick rolled his eyes, “Holy brand new vintage mall, Batman”

Bruce gave Dick a look, “I was just implying that there is no way Jason could’ve been born yet.”

Jason sat on his hands pitched his voice up, trying to emulate his younger self the best he could, “Golly gee, Old Man, you mean I’m not ancient like you? Tell me more.”

Dick snorted, but then cleared his throat, “I mean, we all could’ve just been born earlier in this Universe.”

Jason hummed, “I don’t think this world is similar to ours. The energy feels off.”

Dick groaned, “What is it this time? Are there vampires? Or everyone can turn into some type of monster or–”

“The energy feels off because there isn’t any magic. Like at all…” Jason squinted across the mall. “That might be something.” He pointed to the store with a cardboard cutout of Superman, Batman, and some Red Masked dude with black netting.

The three of them made their way to the… comic book store. Which was almost completely covered in comics– Batman plastered across the cover, along with a kid in Robin colors looking like someone had said something out of pocket.

“Isn’t Tim’s cape supposed to be black on the outside?”��

Bruce picked the comic up, frowning as he handed the comic to Jason, “I think it’s supposed to be you.”

Jason looked at the back of his hand and then back to the kid on the cover, “Ain’t no way. That child is reflective . It has to be Tim.”

Dick looked over Bruce’s shoulder, “I dunno, he does have your hair loopies. Also, it says, Robin finds his mother, and waiting is the Joker, planning a revenge that is swift, violent, terrible. Can Robin survive? You–” Dick grabbed the comic and flipped to the last page where there was a black and white image of Batman holding Robin, “...What the actual– They voted.”

But Jason wasn’t really paying attention to that page, his eyes were focused on the page before– Batman in a truck, with the word JASON big, red, and bold.

Jason took the comic from Dick and started flipping through, realizing that it was panel for panel what happened. “This is disgusting.”

Dick nodded, “Who votes for a child to–”

“They made me white!”

Dick gave Jason an incredulous look, “ Die . Who votes for a child to die. ”

Jason shrugged, and showed Dick a panel that featured poser Jason with a pair of binoculars in his hands, “Eh… That does not look like a 15 year old. Those premature wrinkles… not a good look.”

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, “Jason, don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Myself? That child is not me. That child is not a child, and is clearly white. In fact–” Jason pointed at the white man on the page, and snickered, “That looks like the face of a future mass murderer. Besides,” Jason picked up another comic with White Jason bleeding from his nose, seemingly going out in an explosion, “He obviously got voted off the island.”

The twin unimpressed looks on Bruce and Dick’s face was absolutely worth it.

Jason looked around for the first book in the four parter, and started walking to the cashier, when Bruce stopped him. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing mementoes.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, “With what money?”

“I do have cash on me. It’s just fun mooching off of ya.” Jason frowned, to help him feign ignorance, “Did you forget your wallet?”

Bruce grunted his, you caught me but I’m not going to admit I am wrong grunt.

“It’s ok, if we really need to, we can disassemble Dick’s phone and pawn it for parts.” Dick started patting his pockets, and Jason had to hold back his smirk, “You forgot your phone too?”

Dick groaned, “Why must the Multiverse hate us? I even took some really cute videos of baby Damian and… Jay.”

It’s not fair that Dick went all melancholy. Now Jason has to give his phone back. “You really should stop taking pictures of the younger versions of us.” He pulled out Dick’s phone and handed it to him, “Don’t you already have pictures of us?”

“Not of Damian and Tim at the age we saw them. And not with you.”

“Hm…”Jason pulled out Bruce’s wallet, and handed it to him, “Maybe when we get back, I should ask Talia if she has any.” Jason then pulled out a five dollar bill from his pocket and went to pay.

Now, usually, Jason isn’t much of a comic book reader, but he had to buy this comic of the white man who was supposedly 15 and had the same name as him. It was just too funny. He turned back to Dick and Bruce, “I’m gonna frame this– Actually, no, I’m gonna photocopy each page and cover up the glass case with it. Maybe I’ll ask Damian to give ‘Jason’ some melanin.”

Someone walked up to them, “Are you guys talking about Jason Todd? Man, I hate him. I’m glad he died.”

If Jason had been drinking water, he would’ve done a spit take. That was blunt.

Dick and Bruce on the other hand were glowering. He could practically see Dick repeating, Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him over and over again.

The dude was lanky, with angular features and greasy brown hair that was unkempt.

“Excuse me?” The incredulity on Bruce’s face wouldn’t be visible to the dude, but it was loud and clear to Jason.

“For starters, he isn’t Dick Grayson. There’s only one Robin and it’s him. Jason Todd is just a knockoff.”

Usually he would think this was hilarious– this dude didn’t even know he was talking to the ‘characters’ he was ranting about, but something about the dude made his gut twist in a way that screams danger.

“Jason Todd is not a knockoff . He took Robin, and made it into his own thing. He made it a legacy.” Dicks’ smile was tight as he said it. The way it was during Galas and someone had said something particularly racist. “Plus, Dick Grayson couldn’t be Robin forever. He had to grow into his own person and out of Batman’s shadow.”

“Sure, yeah, I like how they made Nightwing the leader of the Titans. Still doesn’t mean that Jason Todd’s a good Robin. How can you make a criminal a hero? I don’t know what Batman was thinking by giving that kid a chance. He found the kid boosting tires. He should’ve gone to juvie.”

Now this was just getting kinda awkward. Actually, Kinda offensive. Very offensive.

“Batman believes in reform.” Bruce grunted, “Though, you are forgetting he was homeless at the time and that was his only source of income. ”

“Being Robin didn’t reform the kid.” The confusion on Jason and Dick’s face must’ve been obvious because the man continued, “Issue 424. They turned Robin into a murderer. I mean, I know it was supposed to be up for interpretation, but he obviously pushed Garzonas. Dick Grayson would never .”

This… really wasn’t funny.

Dick narrowed his eyes, “That’s because he watched his parents fall to their death. Also, did Robin really push him?” Dick directed that last part at Jason.

Crazy how things from the past that seemed miniscule are suddenly being brought up on this life altering trip around the multiverse. “I personally think that he didn’t. Garzonas was close to the edge and he was drunk. Robin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure if Batman had landed first, Garzonas still would’ve toppled over.”

The dude huffed a laugh that felt eerily familiar, but in a bad way. “Still, Batman, or Nightwing would’ve tried to save him. Robin did not. And I still think he pushed her.”

“Your argument doesn’t make sense.” Bruce tilted his head, “You want Jason Todd dead for stealing tires and potentially killing someone, yet, you think Garzonas should’ve been saved? He kidnapped and sexually assaulted a woman, then continued to harass her, to the point where she felt the need to commit suicide.”

“I didn’t say that . I just don’t like the kid. I kinda wish Starlin went through with giving him AIDS, but oh well, this works too.” The dude shrugged and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Jason Todd’s just a piece of shit from a street corner. He was gonna die either way.”

There was the slightest shift in Dick’s body weight. In one swift move, Jason shrugged off the dude and grabbed Dick’s wrist before he could punch the dude.

They didn’t need to get arrested on account of assault.

What Jason didn’t expect was for the sound of skin meeting skin. Or Bruce looming over the dude, whose nose was now bleeding.

The dude barked out a laugh, as he wiped his nose, “The name’s Jack.” He grinned. He grinned in a way that was too…deranged to just be friendly. “ Jack White. ”

Then everything brightened to white.

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alternate universe #dimensional travel

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hiddengiggles · 3 months

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Feel free to channel your interior designer/“How To Build A Sex Room” from Netflix side here;

If you had a tickling room in your house, what would it look like? What would the aesthetic be? What would be inside it?

This is SUCH a good question!!!! @helixtickl and I chatted about it, thank you for asking! As we continue to save for our first home, this occasionally comes up in our “Someday” discussions 🥰

I definitely don’t want the dungeon-dark-cold-scary energy. Kink is FUN. Fetishes are FUN. I want to feel comfortable being silly and giggly in that room! Soft textures in a rug/carpet and chairs/ottomans (with convenient ways to add straps and cuffs) would be the feeling I want. Warm lighting only, we’re getting warm vibes only. Hopefully some sound-dampening panels would decorate parts of the walls too, in addition to a more sensual style of art.

Husband dearest suggested bondage furniture that could be transformed or easily tucked away! We enjoy hosting family and friends, so we’d feel more comfortable with some added privacy. Stocks that could be flattened or tucked in a trunk, a St. Andrews cross that could fold and move into a closet, that sort of thing. He’s brilliant, isn’t he?

Hopefully an easily organized and accessible toy holder, like a set of drawers, would be excellent. It could be so pretty on the outside and so devious inside (I hope I am too!) with all the best tools. And if we have guests? It better be lockable too.

I know I’d like to see vibrators, feathers, cuffs for various body parts and the accompanying clasps, lots of bondage tape, some “insertables” for me, a couple blindfolds (to alternate when washing!), maybe a few more pain-oriented pieces for when I really need a little sting. There might be other toys, but those are certainly unrelated to this, and a gal has to keep a secret or two 😉

In my perfect world, this would also be the space where content is done, so a closet to be a costume closet would be so fun! I could properly set and store my wigs in a uniform way, hang pieces that need it, have space for larger stuff (like my wings), and bins for all the rest! I have part of our second closet for that now, but having a more organized dedicated space would be fantastic.

Finally, there has to be a space to cuddle up and relax. A TV with streaming, blankets, plush pillows, a stuffie or two, emergency chocolate, and water bottles ready for when play is done. This is a room for play AND aftercare, and I want a place to be comfy and nap.

#ticklingisart #about me #helixtickl #play room #tickle room #not quite sfw #my writing #my kinks #aftercare #tickle talk

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iravaid · 10 months

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(in reference to your reblog)

I would absolutely love an exhaustive breakdown of all of your decisions regarding ‘Simon Riley in Situations’

That series consumes me. Much like in the way that Simon was consumed by the desert. I have been fundamentally altered by it.

Oh my god, genuinely thank you so much for asking

This became a very long set of rambles that I have two split in two, possessed by the talk too much demons... sad! Here is the first part, the second part I'll tack on in a later reblog.

More below, I get a little bit Pepe Silvia in this, but oh well lmao

An Introduction

I’m going to preface this with stating that the comics are bad. On an artistic and writer’s standpoint, their net value is negative. I have read those six wretched issues at least seven times through and feel confident in that assertion. I have no idea why people think they’re actually good, in the face of muddy rendering and an overall displeasing art style, Americanised writing with poor panelling and pacing and dialogue, among other torture-porn related things.

That being said, there are moments of competency that shine through, past the early 2000s edge and casual sexism + racist stereotypes, which in turn irritates me because it does show there could have been a better story here. And Yet. But the comics have been a well of spiteful inspiration, first with Except You, and second with In The Desert (and perhaps more to come), and I do want to talk about that. (and I do know that the comics aren’t necessarily canon for the reboot Ghost, but like. C’mon. Work with what we’ve currently got. Even if my money is on Makarov in the reboot having something to do with Ghost’s past, considering the knowing look he and Price share upon seeing the photo.)

Simon is a character that has been doomed by the narrative since day one, and while it would not be a surprise if he survives MW3 on account of the company wanting to make money off his multiplayer counterpart, there is a certain compelling grief in knowing his fate was always going to be how it was in the original trilogy. Simon suffers: Simon dies; Ghost suffers: Ghost dies. There is no other way this story ends. And there is something about the cyclical nature of his life, and patterns to be found in a such a story, which I think are extremely fun to try and enforce, as well as emphasise. It’s this, among other things, that makes him a compelling character to me. Well – that and him being tall, built like a brick-shithouse, gravelly voice, wears a skull mask, has a strong sense of loyalty and compassion for fellow soldiers… (but that’s beside the point!!!!).

The things he went through in the comics had occasionally been so over the top that I need a moment to stand back and go ‘… really? Like. Really? After all that, you put him through more?’ after every reread. It’s not enough that his entire family was murdered but also his psychiatrist and superior officer, and so on and so on. But unfortunately, I have to reiterate that the comics have been a source of inspiration. ‘Simon Riley In Situations’ is an extension of this spiteful motivation to retell/improve upon what the comics were trying to do, as well as occasionally extrapolating on them, or even warping canon to better accommodate my own headcanons/the rebooted universe.

I love stories were a main/side character goes through an incredible change, to the point where they’re noticeably and irreparably different to how they were at the beginning of the story, for better or for worse. Examples that come to mind, currently, are Jinx from Arcane, Zuko from ATLA, Ahsoka in Clone Wars, Steve from Stranger Things. To me, the transformation of Simon into Ghost is something very compelling. The Simon Riley that’s about to fly to the states with Major Vernon is a man very, very different to the Simon Riley freshly recruited into the 141 by Shepherd. But fundamentally they’re still the same person, and that can be an important facet for a big change in a character imo.

I like using a lot of poems and songs and the occasional bible reference in my works. I know it’s fanfiction and maybe for some people that’s overdoing it, but I love it. I love how art informs and inspires itself, and I love using the inherent emotional and cultural connections attached to a specific work in order to enhance that of my own writing. I think it’s good practice, and maybe it doesn’t matter that it’s expressed in the form of fanfiction. I’m a better writer because of it, and that’s something of significance to me: I never studied English lit/creative writing at a higher level of education, so this is where it will be expressed.

Skulls, Death, and the Ghost

Skulls haunt Simon throughout the comics; in turn, Simon has been haunted by the Ghost he’s doomed to become for a very long time. Roba wears skull face-paint when torturing and attempting to brainwash Simon, Simon’s father used to wear skull face-paint when performing, Simon smeared toothpaste on his face when in recovery from Roba’s captivity and it resembled a skull, Tommy wore a skull mask to emulate his father, and Simon hallucinates skeletons/skulls at different points in the comics. Finally, when his family are killed and Simon goes on his revenge mission, he wears the same face paint as he did during Día de Los Muertos when Roba captured him. He claims that the brainwashing didn’t ‘work’ (as the comics put it), but here Simon is, wearing the same mask as his tormentors. I wanted to stretch that recurring imagery by adding the vocalist wearing the skull face-paint in chapter one of Except You. Something there about returning to form, or perhaps finally looking back to see what exactly is that thing who’s been lurking in the back of your mind. I describe the skull reoccurring as “morbidly familiar” in that this has always been Simon’s fate, and it doesn’t matter what he does to try and escape, because he will always return to it.

It can also be stretched to symbolise his close relationship with Death. Simon has ‘died’ a lot of times in the story. At first he believes he’s dead on a subconscious level (nightmares with Roba’ saying he killed him), but then issues 3+4 happen, and that belief escalates into a conscious conviction that he died on the concrete floor in Roba’s captivity; he died out there in the desert; he died surrounded by his family’s corpses on Christmas; he died the moment he killed Roba; he died for good at the end of MW2. Roba killed Simon, and Ghost put whatever ‘Simon Riley’ once was to rest in the funeral pyre of his childhood home. Ghost has always had to everything on his own up until this point: even give himself a proper sendoff. A part of me wonders if Ghost believes himself, on some level, to be the keeper of Simon’s memory and identity. That is what a ghost is, right? The thing that lingers after a tragedy.

It's something incredibly interesting to consider present-era Ghost. Does he still think he’s dead? Is he waiting for the rot to set in? Has he been so dissociated from himself for so long that he doesn’t know how else to function, and on some level is terrified of what might happen, should he in turn look back to face whatever is left of ‘Simon Riley’? Maybe Ghost can be interpreted as the one that came back ‘wrong’, and he’s waiting for other people to notice that there’s nothing left but a corpse. He has gotten very little help by way of therapy/counselling, and probably doesn’t have the tools nor language at his disposal to neither work through these things, nor know how to voice them in the first place. That’s one of the reasons I wrote Simon as not fully aware of the definition of ‘child abuse’ and how it related to him. He knows Nigel (his father) was a cunt and a wifebeater, but he doesn’t know those necessary psych terms to properly begin processing what happened to him both as a child and adult, because who could have taught him? He never got the chance to go to DBT or CBT, and that hazy moment of time with Dr Halloway probably wasn’t conducive to learning about things like CPTSD and trauma and abusive households. I tried to extrapolate this, with Simon’s internalised ableism also being a block to fully accepting or even processing those terms. He’s in a lot of pain, and he very, very desperately wants to move on, to return to how he used to be before all of ‘this’. Will talk later on about how the military factors in to keeping the status quo of ‘the Ghost’.

In tarot (love you tarot love symbolisms in it love when it’s used in media mwah mwah), the death card symbolises major change, rebirth, and endings and beginnings.

If anything, Simon Riley is defined by his deaths and rebirths, how he keeps forcing himself to change in order to survive a brutal narrative set for him. And Ghost, who bears a skull-face not dissimilar to the grim-reaper, perhaps wears this taboo symbol to ward off ‘evil’, or to use that fear in order to keep people at arm’s length, in response to these injustices done to him by fate and the machinations of people far crueller than Simon. He has been through a lot, and still he keeps moving, keeps completing missions and being a ‘good soldier’, because that’s all Simon knows. He’s like a shark in that way, or a well-trained dog: he was never taught, nor given the chance to learn, how to not be a soldier. This is something me and @narramin, affectionately refer to as hound-coding, which, god, really suits Simon. Will talk about it further on.

Roba Himself

Manuel Roba is certainly there. It’s honestly incredibly disappointing to see how this specific character was handled, how heavily the writers leaned into stereotypes to depict Roba – there’s a panel of him holding a burrito for fuck’s sake. This caricature of a villain is both lazily written, but also serves to reduce the impact he has on Simon. This man is supposed to be the primary antagonist, above Simon’s abusive father. He is the reason that Ghost exists, the reason the Riley family are dead, and can be considered the primary catalyst for most of the comics’ plot. And yet this man, and all that he represents in Simon’s suffering, is reduced to the fat ‘El Gordo’ with dialogue lines that are ultimately meaningless, a personal motivation that is only said in his dying breath without further exploration, and ultimately is a villain without any teeth. I think Roba has the potential to be a terrifying figure, one this kind of dark story needs in order to ensure that Simon’s suffering isn’t made a joke when compared to the one at the source of it all.

There are moments of competency and personality that shine through here and there. The pink deck chair in the sensory overload room, the ‘plant flowers over [the grave]’ line, as well as Roba choosing to make himself appear as the grim reaper himself as a way to express ultimate power over his captives’ lives (and, in turn, Simon killing Roba and choosing to don the skull-face could be seen as him taking that control back).

There is a set of panels, one from issue 5 and another from issue 6, that piques my attention when placed together (seen below). Simon has tried so hard to convince himself and others that he is fine, that Roba’s brainwashing failed, that he is not deeply affected by the seven months of torture and humiliation and dehumanisation. But then he comes back from the dead wearing the same face-paint as Roba. He refers to himself as death, as does Roba. That man has his claws deep in Simon, and Roba knew this, and he died with a smile on his face because of it. As quoted by his final words: in the end Roba is just one man. Killing him won’t bring back the Rileys and it won’t stop the pain Ghost is in (but by god is it Ghost’s right to put that man down for what he did to him.).

The following paragraphs will discuss the torture Simon was subjected to in Roba’s captivity and features discussion of the sexual assault he experienced, as well as being him drugged + detailed acts of dehumanisation. The section itself will be bracketed with a ‘-’, feel free to skip to the final paragraph marked of this section if you’d prefer.

In my writing I want to show a competent, terrifying Roba. He should be purposeful in how he goes about breaking these men down in order to build them up into the dutiful hounds Roba so obviously wanted. That’s part of why I think, and wrote, Roba having never touched Simon, he made sure it was his men assaulting Simon while he watched (for one reason or another). And when they were finished Roba would try to manipulate the situation into one being Simon’s fault and that Roba, and only Roba, could fix for him. Simon needed to see Roba as the one with the power to control all these awful things happening to him, and that his own obstinance is the reason he’s suffering. Roba would make an offer – if you listen to me, follow what I say, I can make this stop. I can stop them from touching you ever again. It’s purposefully and insidiously phrased, he’s trying to make all this seem like Simon’s fault for not ‘giving in’. In turn, the prolonged torture and dehumanisation would best be served as well-thought-out tactics.

I’m not a fan of how every other captive was noted as too ‘weak’ or whatever to hold out against all that Roba was doing to them, only for Vernon to say that his methods were ‘genius’ – not with a near 100% mortality rate it fucking isn’t. It would be interesting to explore a fic where Roba was actually competent enough for those aforementioned super soldiers to be a real thing (and we’ll make death proud of us touches on this very well I recommend this fic). But, regardless, I find exploring the ways Simon could have been dehumanised/tortured without succumbing to infection or shock or a sudden heart attack from the sheer amount of stress and trauma to be morbidly interesting. I’m a morbid person, so this tracks lmao (it’s regardless a matter of balance, though, because we’re trying not to fall into that Edge the comics loved so much). I also want to note that Roba rarely, if ever, called Simon by his real name. It’s always ‘English’ or ‘Mr. Death’. A name is a powerful thing to control, stripping a person of their name is a common dehumanisation tactic, one that even the military has been known to use in order to get all these individuals into acting as one mass. It’s also a sign of non-acknowledgement, in my eyes. Simon was not a person to Roba, not really, just a dog that needed moulding. In a way, Ghost referring to himself as ‘Ghost’ may also be a tactic to distance himself from Simon in order to cope with the Everything that’s happened to him.

The next point is just as important as the prior ones: what kind of effect would all this have on Simon in different stages of the comics? And what kind of inner monologue and mindset would he have in order to endure these awful, awful things? And how would he heal from it, considering how the events of the comics went down? He has no control over the situation as a whole, but I imagine that Simon is the kind of person to try and grasp for anything to have control over regardless – he’s exhausted but he still might try to lay in a way that keeps him protected or stills his roiling gut, he’ll occasionally still try to lash out against the narcos, he’ll try and joke with Sparks and Washington in order to help them cling to their humanity (as well as preserve his own identity as a protector, which I want to get into later). He especially utilises dissociation as a ‘tool’ developed from living under the same roof as Nigel Fucking Riley. It provided a very necessary reprieve, and Simon probably believes he’d been ‘broken’ by his father long before Roba ever got his hands on him. Simon at this point probably (maladaptively, in the long run) perceives his ability to dissociate from the body to be a way to control what he truly feels. He can get some kind of control over experiencing multiple instances of sexual assault, over MONTHS, by creating a clear delineation between the body and the person. I wonder if this laid the groundworks for the self-perceived split between Simon Riley and Ghost.

He’s out of that place, Roba is dead and whatever was left of the Zaragoza cartel is hopefully long gone. But where does that leave Simon, whose primary coping mechanisms are either feeling horrific, yawning numbness, or forcing all that pain and fear and humiliation into over-powering anger? All these things kept him alive then… but now what? He has been subjected to a horrific slew of experiences in seven months, over two-hundred days. How do you approach that kind of deal and unpackaging and addressing of that trauma? It’s something in and of itself would be a compelling story to tell, especially with his childhood trauma informing how he processes those experiences. Simon has been physically and psychologically changed by Roba, even if he tried to ‘resist’ – even though interrogation resistance training only lasts for so long.

Sometimes I wonder at what point did Simon realise they weren’t torturing him for information, but to make him into something that wasn’t human. At what point did he realise that there was a reason they made him crawl down the hallways on his hands and knees with a collar around his neck, or that they fed him dog food off the ground, or that he might have been kept in retrofitted dog kennels, in a long-abandoned dog fighting pit.

I wonder if there were times he wished he’d just let go and listen to Roba, and kill the people the latter wanted him to kill; just so that the pain would stop, and he could be more than this thing surviving on the concrete floor. Very interesting to consider, what with the comics implying that Sparks and potentially Washington were also drugged in order to force a dependence on them, as a way to further exert control over them. I’m not sure why Simon didn’t also experience this. Yet another Comics Cringe Moment.

Ultimately, when I see Roba I think of a Judge Holden-esque figure: an intelligent man who has taken a step back, looked at the violence of the world, and ultimately came to the conclusion that, 1.) It is in man’s nature to wage war and be violent, and 2.) It is Roba’s right to control that flow of violence. He had Simon, Sparks, and Washington, and others who came before them, tortured, brutalised, dehumanised, starved, assaulted, and vivisected with intents to brainwash them into his own personal soldiers/bodyguards. He wanted to perverse nature and control something that was never his to control, and I think a character like that should ooze calculated cruelty and a disdain for the optimistic/what he perceives as weak. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, in Roba’s eyes, and he wants to be the one holding the leash.

Dogs and Hounds

Speaking of dogs, let’s get into hound-coding. Dog/hound/wolf metaphors are used for characters in a plethora of ways: dogs and other canines are embedded deeply in a lot of cultures and that can be seen in how disparate a dog can be used in symbolism. The rabid dog that requires put down, versus the loyal-to-a-fault dog whose diligence will be its downfall. The dog that hunts you down relentlessly against the dog that protects and nurtures. Vicious and borderline obsessed, pursuing a singular goal with tunnel-vision; dangerous predator stalking you from the shadows; wholly dedicated to a sole purpose in life; kicked to the point where anger lines their teeth and they meet the world with a bite, because they’ll never let anyone hurt them again; a caregiver and teacher, sometimes even a leader that will look out for who they see as family.

With Simon Riley, I feel he is a hound, the kind that’s been kicked enough times to know to bite first and ask questions later – but can someone please be gentle? Please, can’t someone let him rest? Then the narrative slaps his muzzle and tells him the story isn’t done yet. Simon, off the coattails of escaping his childhood home as a teenager, finds purpose in the military and clings to it. So much of Simon’s identity can be tied to him being a protector, as well as a soldier; he’s proud of his achievements within the SAS, cocky, even. He is well trained in violence and well experienced, too; he’s risen above to make a reputation for himself as a tough sonofabitch within the SAS, which is pretty famously full of that type of person.

The dog can be moulded into a lot of different things in fiction, just as it has in real life. So can Simon, so can Ghost: he’s a character that has been subjected to extreme kinds of change, with some very clear distinctions between Pre-Roba Simon, During-Roba, Post-Roba, Post-Family Massacre, and Post-Jungle Raid. That’s one of the reasons why I think the dog metaphor, and its imagery, can provide very impactful parallels for Simon. What is a dog, if not loyal and loving? Didn’t we make it that way? And what is a dog, if not defined by the job it can fulfil. We made it that way. What use is Simon to the military, if he won’t do what he was trained to do. I wonder if he worries about that in between missions: losing his purpose and identity one way or another.

Ghost is a good leader; he knows how to direct a team and how to keep Soap calm during the chaos in Las Almas. I imagine he found sanctuary in the camaraderie that can be found in a military environment, compared to his chaotic homelife. He doesn’t necessarily have to be open about it, or all that externally happy. But it’s regardless a community that has provided Ghost with some form of support (ironic, again, considering it’s the military, but that is how it works). Like a pack animal, one might say.

His potential relationship with Soap, if people take it that way (I do and will be talking about it more later #peaceandlove), reminds me of the poem ‘bait dog’ among others, here's an excerpt from the end of it: “And she still flinches / When I reach to pet her / but she smiles / once I get behind the ears / you will not heal from everything / that does not mean / you will stop being loved.”, and I feel that’s a very lovely image when applied to Soapghost, y’know? Simon has been through a lot, and Soap is emotionally mature enough to recognise that and give him space, while still putting in that necessary work to bridge certain gaps. Kind of like the slow burn of getting a rescue dog to trust you, except it’s your human superior officer with CPTSD and an edgy comic book backstory. They will doubtless have issues and bumps in the road, but they’ll also have shitty jokes and a lot of patience to keep things buoyed. Love wins or WHATEVER.

Roba tried to make Simon into an attack dog, too. Treated him like one, and I imagine there was a point where Simon was starting to believe it. Then he gets buried alive and has to dig his way out. He has to drag himself through the desert (more to come on that) and survive months of recovery until he has a chance to return to the state he physically was. I imagine this time of injury was awful for Simon: he felt incompetent on top of the other churning emotions one would have after surviving so many months of All That. Simon, I imagine, has always defined himself by his ability to provide, protection or otherwise, as well as his own physical prowess. It’s what kept him and his family safe all this time. It also led to him being picked for that fateful mission. I think Simon is a man shown to be capable of that single-minded focus of a hound that’s caught the scent, especially when he spent months tracking down Roba in the jungle.

Simon is a dog constantly having to remember its teeth. There is a lot to be said about dogs that learn to bite back.

I have reached a character limit here but still have a lot to talk about, please hold (and tysm, again, for the ask)

#ask #codposting #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #rape mention #shaking my fist at the sky every time i think about the comics. god.#This is LONG and it's not done yet... freak

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mychlapci · 5 months

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Ratchet "Party Ambulance" Transformers finds out one night Orion Pax is a lightweight. After a fun night it turns to Orion drunk as hell and having to piss. He's more than a little wobbly. Ratchet helps him out though, keeping him upwards and making sure he doesnt piss on his pedes.

ah, the classic bonding moment.

Orion probably knows he's a lightweight, when compared to Ratchet at the very least, and for a while it looks like all the engex had gone straight to his head, though soon enough it's clear it split and went down to his bladder, too. But the bar bathroom is full... thankfully, Ratchet knows his way around and helps him stumble outside, holding poor Orion under his shoulder as he struggles to stand straight. Orion's definitely pee shy, something he'd rarely think about under normal circumstances, but with the party still in full flow behind them and Ratchet just standing there, watching him, he realizes it's might be an issue. Especially so when Ratchet asks to hold it... it's so forward, Orion's panels immediately pop open, spike half-pressurized and bladder throbbing. A warm frame presses up against him from behind, a steady hand holding his spike as he wobbles on his pedes. He's flushed and his head is spinning, shaky arm leaning against the wall, but in the end it's just too difficult to keep holding it in... Orion lets go, spike warm in Ratchet's hand as he aims it over at the wall... maybe he can't help it and starts rubbing Orion off idly, staining his hand with his piss, drunk enough to not care. Perhaps he too struggles with keeping the piss from dripping down onto Orion's pedes...

like I said, guys bonding :)

#listen we've all done it. we've all asked a guy if we can hold it while he pees. classic bonding moment #valveplug #omo #unsanitary

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needfantasticstories · 2 months

Text

Wind, Water, and Four

(DAY 25: Waterboarding)

Summary:

In Four's era, Wind meets Jago's gang.

Notes:

HUGE thanks to @somerknights and @estelian-01 and @hotcheetohatredwastaken for BETA reading.

Wind wasn’t often afraid of water. He loved the high seas with its open horizon and kaleidoscope of blues and greens. Not much felt so refreshing as a kiss of saltwater spraying on his face during a hard day of sailing.

But right now, he looked at the simple bucket of water beside him with genuine fear. A towel dangled in the hands of a strange man who stood over Wind. He was tall with short facial hair over his lip and chin, and an obnoxious smirk. Judging by the crooked smile, he was probably just as cocky as Warrior, but certainly not as friendly as the Captain. The man’s grang of rouges sitting on crates around the room muttered in excitement.

“It’s a simple question, kid. You tell me where Link left that sword, and we’ll have no issue. But if you want to make it interesting, I don’t mind playing a few games before you talk.” The gang of low-lifes around him laughed.

Wind glowered and tried not to let it show how he struggled in his restraints, feeling for the knots that pinned his arms to the short end of the wooden bench.

“No? You want to play the game? Fine. Let’s get started!” The man threw the towel over Wind’s face. Wind quickly drew in a breath and held it.

Starting from the top of his head and creeping down came the pressure of water saturating the towel. It trickled down over his nose, then too quickly over his mouth and chin, sealing the dense fabric against his skin. There was no way for air to get through it now, except the tiniest waterlogged straw-suck of air if he was lucky enough for the towel to be old and worn. It did not feel worn. He tried not to think too much about it and held still. He could stay calm. His previous record for holding his breath was two minutes, and his shortest escape was 30 seconds, after all. Nevermind the longer ones, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that.

He picked at the knots, first the left hand, as pressure built in his chest. A drip slid from the rag into his nostril, and he tried not to panic. Hold hold hold . He thought and his nimble fingers worked into the coarse rope.

One almost free! His face felt hot with pressure. His lungs burned. His heart raced.

A punch to his gut ruined everything.

He gasped, but only sucked fabric and water in, and he choked as water tickled down his airway. He tried to breathe in again, and coughed out, but nothing came back in except more water. His mind felt washed in white. He arched his back as his legs thrashed and his arms jerked but he couldn't get a single breath, only more and more water dripping and sucked in from his desperate attempts. His neck ached from straining his arms and shoulders, his throat hurt, and his face burned. He’d lost track of which way was up and down, mind spinning even in his blindness.

His thrashing grew weaker and weaker.

The rag lifted, and he gulped in the precious air, a spray of water sent into his lungs along with it. His chest heaved like a boat in a storm, up and down. He watched it himself, aching and relieved and afraid.

“Wasn’t that fun?” The man leered down at him. “Want to play again, or will you tell me where he keeps the blade?”

“What blade?!” Wind gasped. Right hand right hand right hand . The dim wood-paneled room looked fuzzy, all the light glittering too brightly from the water still coating his eyelashes. “Which Link? There are tons of people named Link!”

“What? Kid, there’s only one in this town, and everyone knows him. That bratty son of the Captain, he’s such a show-off it’s hard to miss. And you know that, I bet. You’re traveling with him. I bet he’s pissed you off a few times, eh? Why not give him a little taste of his own medicine? We don’t even want him . Just a sword he took from some shrine in the middle of nowhere. we just want to put it back. We’re like those, uh, what do they call them?”

“Archeologists,” a man in a red bandana supplied.

“That’s it! Archeologists. That’s us, you see? Interested in ancient things. He’s stolen an old thing, and we just want to put it back. So what is it? Keep playing our game, or will you tell us?”

The man was like Warrior in more ways than one. He had this gang under his thumb, and didn’t take disrespect. “You can take that glass bottle over there and shove i–”

Down came the cloth, but Wind timed his last breath well. He’d be able to focus for a few seconds. He worked his fingers just right when a kick to his stomach threw his fragile plan off track, once again. He gasped, and floundered on the wood bench.

They let him get another taste of fresh air for a brief moment. Right hand right hand right hand . He wished he was as ambidextrous as Twilight. He hooked one finger in the knot and pushed in, wiggling and worming to loosen the knot.

But all too quickly, his limbs flopped as the white fog clouded his mind again. He felt a strange, almost happy weightlessness. Then the rag was gone, and he gagged on a mouthful of water, spitting it out violently.

A grumble at his side. He coughed and looked up. His captor was glaring, water all over his cheap cravat and grimey vest.

A woman nearby laughed. “Oh, Jago doesn’t take being disrespected, lad!”

Wind gave an exhausted smile of his own, and looked to the man's hip for a promising flash of silver, and he found it.

Wind lunged. One fist closed over the handle of Jago’s knife, the other he fist swung into the man’s belly. Jago’s smirk shattered as he doubled over.

Wind sliced the ropes at his feet, grateful the blade proved sharp, cutting them free in only a few slices.

The ragtag criminals shouted and lunged first for their leader, and then for him, but it was too late. He’d already rolled off the bench and under their feet.

The door was barred, but he hauled up the crossbeam and shoved it back into the crowd closing in behind him. Those in front fell back under its weight, forcing those behind to dodge around the fallen. Wind ducked under a grasping hand and hurled the door open. Narrowly avoiding the tackle of two scraggly criminals, he danced between the thin groups in the evening crowd, heading for the widest and most crowded roads he could find.

They chased him, shrieks and angry shouts bursting behind him, until at last he skidded into the crowded market. Lamps reflected in a beautiful fountain that he had too little time to appreciate. There were covered stalls everywhere. He ran into an alley near one, then turned and slid under the table of a silk merchant. Footsteps followed into the alley, and gruff curses soon followed, but Wind didn’t wait. He crawled under table after table, and at the end he made a run for the inn.

“Wind!” Four shouted in relief as he ran into the end where the others had been staying. Twilight and Sky whispered prayers of thanks.

“Where are the others?” Wind asked.

“They’re out looking for you! What happened?” Four demanded. “Why are you all wet?”

Wind huffed, and glared at the irritation in Four’s voice, but it was all hitting him now. He blinked the shine of his eyes away and demanded, “Who in the High Seas is Jago?”

The door slammed open a second time, startling the other patrons who had already been staring at them in nosy interest. Warrior stood in the frame, tense as a bowstring, but when he saw Wind he sprung inside and grabbed the sailor by the shoulders.

“Thank Farore. Time and I found those hooligans in the market. The knights are rounding them up.”

Four asked, far more gently, “Wind, what happened?”

“I’m fine!” He assured them both, though his coughing fit after made the others only look more worried. “It’s a long story. Can we get food first?”

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