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keferon · 7 months ago

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My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

#tf mecha universe #Blurr #Swindle #Swerve #Jazz #Tailgate #Wheeljack #maccadam #Prowl #Jazzprowl happens for like two seconds #mecha writing #mecha bs writing #mecha kef writing

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ozzgin · 8 months ago

Note

Ahhh!!! I love monster streaming concept so much! If its not a problem for you can u share some hcs about it? Anything is fine to me tbh. Im really curious how their beloved monster watchers would react for y/n trying out different streaming videos (like gameplays etc idkkkk)

LizardKing5 would probably bully you every now and then. "You already died? Noob." He'll frequently suggest horror games, so he can tease you about being scared easily. He'll joke about your choices or gaming style. At the same time, he'll send you guides, buy you in-game items, and bark at anyone else who dares to critique your skills. Only he can do that.

User0385485: man, those are some piss poor skills LizardKing5: Shut your hole before I close it with my own fist, PUNK!!11 LizardKing5: Don't listen to this idiot, just focus on the tips I sent you yesterday.

SharkMan is completely clueless. He's not into gaming, as he considers himself way too old for that, but he supports you nonetheless. He'll watch all of your streams religiously and cheer on you, even when it makes no sense whatsoever. Additionally, he'll gift you ridiculously expensive and unnecessarily advanced computer parts and accessories. He doesn't know what you need, so he just buys whatever has the highest price for good measure.

SharkMan: Fantastic work, (Y/N). LizardKing5: What are you talking about, man? This dumbass scored last place every single round!!!

HornyMantis keeps suggesting adult games, or leaves out of pocket, deranged comments during your gameplays. He couldn't care less about what you're doing, as long as he can see your face (and boobs).

HornyMantis: wow nice shot HornyMantis: u know what would make this match even better HornyMantis: if u were shirtless

DefNotAStalker keeps to himself. He just quietly observes you play and never really comments. When you leave your desk, he sometimes updates the games for you, or changes some settings, or finishes a level you were struggling with. It leaves both you and your followers confused, wondering how you managed to skip over parts or beat a challenge you kept failing a moment ago.

Y/NSimp will support you in anything you want to do. He'll pretend he's knowledgeable about gaming, but in reality he's deplorably bad at it. Secretly jealous of SharkMan and LizardKing5 for hogging all the attention, either with gifts or with useful advice.

Y/NSimp: Heh...I actually beat this level in two minutes. Y/NSimp: I could give you some tips in private if you want, (Y/N). Not to brag, but I'm a bit of a pro haha Y/NSimp: Oh, I see you already ended the stream Y/NSimp: Hello??

[Monster Streaming] | [All Monster Series]

#monster streaming #monster x human #monster x reader #monster fucker #terato

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dansroo · 6 months ago

Text

Are we not supposed to be already married?

based on this request.

content; Jayce Talis x male!reader. modern!au. husband!Jayce. fluff. silly and cloying romance. established relationship. married couple. suggestive!, teasing. just lots of love and kisses. 🙂‍↕️

word count; 1.3K (I promise that this time I wrote the correct number)

a/n; I had to republish it because, for some strange reason, it didn't appear in the tags. 👀 english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

thank you for requesting! 🤍

You looked at your notes with great satisfaction. You had been working for the last few days on the development and design of a better processor; your beta design had been a complete success, so you decided to exploit your skills and improve yourself even more. Likewise, you knew you had the potential to achieve something much better, and you weren't going to waste an opportunity like that.

The little blue stone moved between your fingers as you observed it carefully. It had been a significant challenge to get Hextech and programming to complement each other without causing an explosive disaster, but it was something you strangely enjoyed, especially the reactions that magic had when coming in contact with computational systems.

Although it was very different for Jayce, who had to take care that you didn't end up losing an important limb.

The sudden touch of hands on your shoulders pulled you out of your bubble. “Can we go home now?” you chuckled, feeling his hands slide down your arms and then get tangled around your waist. “Please?” he whispered in your ear, causing a couple of tickles.

“Just finishing this, then we'll go home and see about dinner.”

You took a worn chalk, started to correct and write new equations on the blackboard in front of you, while you kept fidgeting with the small stone in your other hand.

You glanced sideways at Jayce's hand as it rose to gently take you by the wrist.

“Where is your ring?!” He asked with indignation, observing the absence of it on your finger.

You rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement “It's on my desk, I couldn't risk something happening to it while I work, right?”

“Or maybe you don't love me anymore and you want the divorce” you heard him say in an exaggeratedly sad tone, hiding his face in the gap between your shoulder and neck. “Geez, don't be so dramatic.” you said, laughing, listening to his laughter being muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

His arms didn't move from their place, still hugging you from behind. Eyes following the path that your hand was tracing on the blackboard and a smile on his face every time he heard you whisper unconsciously. He loved watching you work.

There was so much calm and silence that, for a moment, you had forgotten he was still there until you felt him place a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling his hands letting go of your waist.

“So, did you manage to convince Viktor to go home early?”

You heard his footsteps, and judging by the sound of a chair's legs being dragged on the floor, you deduced that he had sat at your desk. He took the time to explore your workplace, admiring a beautiful framed photograph resting on it. Jayce never missed an opportunity to look at that frame whenever he could.

It was of you and him, at the beginning of all this dream of his—both were so stupid to notice the love you had for each other. It was as if his heart beat again the same way it did the day he dared to kiss you—a clumsy but sweet kiss.

Your engagement ring was placed right in front.

“Oh, yeah… we should invite him to dinner with us one day, what do you think?”

You placed the chalk at the bottom of the blackboard, giving it one last look before you turned in his direction. “I think it's a great idea.” you smiled as you walked towards him, sliding your hands into your pockets. Once you were there you sat on the edge of the wooden desk—not without first storing the little blue stone in the metal box—, with Jayce next to you sitting in your chair. You yawned, listening to the sound of the light drizzle outside; turned your head to look at the window, where you began to see the small drops accumulate on the glass—tarnishing it almost completely.

You feel his fingers wrap around your arm, forcing you to take you hand out of you pocket. A giggle escapes from your lips as you watch him holding your ring.

“Would you marry me?”

“Are we not supposed to be already married?”

“It doesn't matter, let's get married twice.”

“I told you that we should have brought the umbrellas, Talis”

You sighed as you took off your soaked shoes, leaving them at the entrance. At first, it was a harmless drizzle; then it turned into a complete furious storm that ended up soaking both of you—as you had predicted this morning.

You removed the hair from your face, which was starting to stick in your skin thanks to how wet it was. “I know, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would rain this way” you heard him say between nervous giggles. “Didn't it bring you memories?” he asked you, with a silly and contagious smile. You sighed again, approaching to him.

“Let me think, like the time you fell on your face and—”

“Oh please, no, we've already talked about that.”

You laughed heartily; you knew which other memory he was referring to. But for God's sake, falling while you trying to calm your angry partner in the rain it's not something that you can forget so easily.

But not everything had gone so wrong that day, he had achieved his task after all.

“What am I going to do with you?” you asked, gently removing a small leaf that had gotten tangled in his hair. “I think the real question is, what haven't you already done to me?”

You shook your head slightly, laughing as you ran a hand over your face “My god, shut up.” you murmured embarrassedly as you hit his arm, making him laugh.

“I think I should consider the divorce.”

“Hey!, don't joke about that!”

Your laughter echoed down the hall, as you headed to your shared room. Jayce didn't stay behind, following you some time later.

The rules were simple, the one who lost made the dinner.

Both were curled up on the bed, with a large blanket covering your shoulders, wearing dry and warm clothes. After taking a hot shower, you both had started arguing about who would cook today's dinner; you decided that the only way to know was to leave it to the loser.

Your score was the highest, just for a couple of points. You mocked in silence, listening to his complaints.

“You're making fun of me?”

“Of course not—” you were about to make the final move to win when you felt him kiss your cheek, cradling your face with his hands to turn you completely toward him. “What the hell are you doing?” you said, laughing, as he kissed your whole face.

“I can't kiss my husband's pretty face anymore?” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips and then kissing you properly. Your body fell onto the bed—the control slipping from your hands in the process. The path of his kisses returned once more across your cheeks, gliding down to your jaw and finally reaching your neck. Initially, just were clumsy kisses, tickling you; then they became hungrier, wetter.

You clung to his arm, letting out a soft gasp as your eyes closed— just what he wanted. You were so focused that maybe you wouldn't notice that none of his hands were touching you, as usual.

“GAME OVER.”

You opened your eyes abruptly, feeling him smile against your skin. “What the-” you pushed him away, taking him off you—listened to his chuckle.

“Jayce Talis, you're a damn cheater.” you pointed your finger at him, laughing, after you stopped looking at the screen in front of the bed to turn and see him.

“Don't say you didn't like it.” he whispered, hugging you from behind to lie you down again on the bed, where you two were curled up all day.

Well, until you had to get up to cook.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x male reader #x male reader #male reader #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x male reader #gay #mlm

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01zfan · 3 months ago

Text

through the phone

lawyer!eunseok x sahm!reader | 5.5k words

contains: phone sex, neglecting workaholic husband and lonely housewife

Eunseok took his glasses off in an attempt to clear his mind. Sometimes the absence of clear vision saved him from becoming overstimulated to the point of no return. The numbers for the collection billing turning to a black blur did help ease the incoming stress migraine that was forming on the sides of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut for good measure and put his elbows on the table so he could try and massage out the tension with his fingers.

The end of the quarter always was the worst time. No matter how much extra work Eunseok did to try and alleviate the stress of deadlines there was always so much work to be done.

Sometimes it felt like the people he oversaw were working against him. He knew that he couldn’t blame the new paralegals too much, but some of their support seemed to be a hinderance. Sohee wrote chicken scratch in the margins of notes, Anton misspelled names on client documents, and the two had terrible organization skills. Eunseok spent a majority of the first night rereading the top of documents over and over again, sorting and stapling things that were supposed to be sorted and stapled a long time ago.

His surprise audit and early collection of everyone’s notes was meant to put fear in their hearts. They were supposed to feel guilty for forcing their hardworking boss to do extra work. The point that might’ve been missed isn't worth the headache Eunseok is putting himself through. He just can’t bring himself to threaten with unemployment—it’s a fatal flaw of his easygoing character—so he resorts to more troublesome methods for himself instead. He just prays that Sohee and Anton don’t forget the fear they felt getting their reports taken after Eunseok warned them about the deadline weeks in advance.

Even if this proved a point, Eunseok still lost. He was here in the office by himself past business hours, papers stacked on his desk and numbers on his computer being ran over again and again.

Eunseok hated not being home. He made the impossible rule to keep his work and home life separate, even when he became the manager of the firm and he took on a larger workload than he expected. At most he thought being home being home before midnight was wishful thinking, not actually impossible. But even when he wasn't at work he thought about work, anytime he saw numbers he envisioned a countdown, anytime he saw landscapes he thought of mountains of papers and numbers, and anytime he saw his kids he thought about the younger paralegals he was essentially babysitting everyday.

The end of the quarter brought out the worst in him. The work he was grateful for turned into something he hated. He hated being the leader of a team where everyone looked up to him and he was responsible for the oversight of operations and recruiting new attorneys for the next quarter. He hated that he had all this work to do by the end of the week if he wanted to keep his job up and running.

Eunseok let his forehead fall to the dark mahogany edge of his desk and let out a deep sigh. His large rolling chair leaned forward with him, and Eunseok took a moment to try and recenter himself. The job is awful, but it pays well. He’s doing good work, he's helping people who need help, and he’s due for that bonus and a vacation to Tulum. He has you and a family photo perched on his desk, right by his monitor when he needs an extra reminder of who he’s doing all this for. Eunseok lifts his head to see you smiling back at him and sighs again.

What a terrible fate that to take care of his loved ones he has to be so far away. Locked in his office towards the top of the building like the Rapunzel of Wallstreet. You’re probably Sleeping Beauty, at home by yourself, waiting for your prince to come. He misses his kids, his daughter who was going through a Disney phase and his son who was going through a phase that made him hate all of those movies.

Eunseok looks at the analog clock hanging on the wall. The green digital time tells him his kids are fast asleep, another night he’s missed of reading bedtime stories and kissing his babies on the forehead. He figuratively smacks his palm against his face when he realizes he was supposed to call you a long time ago. Another night of you attempting to wait up for him despite neither of you knowing when he’s coming home.

All of this is ironic, when Eunseok first started this job as a paralegal he was always able to make it home in time for dinner. He always left his cubicle exactly at five, turning off his desktop and grabbing his suitcase before cramming onto the 7 train until he made it to Flushing. Now he drives to work in a fancy Cadillac and being home before dawn seems like a luxury.

He closes his eyes again trying to remember the last time he was sitting at the dinner table with you and his kids. The memory is fading of asking what they were doing in school and getting enthusiastic replies back. He was starting to forget what non-reheated food tasted like and what age his kids were. Sometimes Eunseok was scared that they were forgetting who he was, and that he would just become a man who slept under the same roof as them. He should really find a work-life balance before he becomes the person he swore he never be.

When this quarter comes to a close he’ll really do it. He’ll start forcing the paralegals to do their own work, maybe even the lawyers too. He’ll have a strict work schedule, office hours he abides by with no exceptions. He will do it all once that bonus hits and he hands in these finished reports.

But right now, as New York creeps further into the night he is stuck here. He has one more report to go over and a few logs to verify, but then he’s home before he faces another marathon tomorrow. He just needs something to get him through this last hour, and running his fingers over your framed photo like you've died isn’t enough.

Eunseok puts his glasses back on but still ignores the numbers on the computer to reach for the corded office phone instead. The millions of buttons on the office phone is confusing and he feels like a caveman when he tries to use it. Eunseok always entertained the idea of hiring a personal assistant, but he actually had to hire a receptionist when he unboxed your gift for his office. You picked the phone out, the brown finish to match the desk you also picked out and the red details of the phone matches his lounge chair that you also picked out. He always thought the red was a little too bold, but you always complimented the way Eunseok looked in red. So he dealt with the eyesore and offset the boldness with black furniture. The buttons on the office phone are bothersome, but he knows exactly what to press to reach the house.

When the phone rings Eunseok leans back in his chair. He knows the ringing on the bedside table will wake you up, but still he’s nervous. What if you’re mad at him for waking you up at such a terrible time, what if you’re mad he’s missed another day with his family? Eunseok chews on his nails as he swivels his chair side to side. He takes his hand out of his mouth to flick at the large monstera plant standing tall and healthy next to his desk. He thumbs the large leaf between his fingers, letting his glasses slide down his nose.

Before Eunseok loses hope the call connects. It’s a loud and short click, there’s silence and he’s frozen in his chair waiting for what he’s going to hear on the other end of the line.

“Eunseok?” Your voice is husky from being pulled out of your sleep. He imagines your eyes are still closed and the phone is just resting on the side of your face as you try to wake yourself up. Eunseok leans further into his seat. “Is everything okay?” You ask.

He’s spending another late night in the office instead of sleeping in bed with you. His only companions right now are the green plants you bought for him and the smiling photos of you on his desk. He was running so low on steam that he had to just hear your voice for a little motivation to continue working himself like a dog.

“I’m okay.” He lies. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your tired hum is barely picked up. Eunseok starts picking at the corner of his black mousepad trying to ignore that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Well.” Your voice is husky, crackling right into his ear. He can’t stop the shiver up his spine. His hand that doesn’t hold the phone clasps in on itself, until his fingers graze his sweaty palm. “Here’s my voice.” You say.

“What about the kids?” He asks.

“Eunseok.” He can hear you turning in the bed to check the time next to you. His name floats between your two landlines for a moment, and he can hear you sigh. “You know they went to bed hours ago.” You say.

“I know." He tugs at the extension cord of the phone, wrapping the coil around his fingers. He hears the frustrated edge to your voice and how tired you are. He prays you take pity on him and forgive him for calling you this late at night. He hopes you forgive him for using you as a distraction and wasting your night. "Did anything interesting happen to them at school today?” He asks.

Eunseok hears you sigh on the other end of the line. He can hear your hand rubbing over your face and he feels that tension headache forming at his forehead again.

“You should really find the time to ask them yourself, Eunseok.” He draws in a breath and he can hear you moving. “They’re good at adjusting, they’re alot like you. But they feel your absence, you know?” You continue.

He can barely stand to hear that. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw his kids when they weren’t already asleep or being herded out the door to be rushed to school. He has to shake his head when he remembers his own childhood and he has to hold the phone a little tighter to forget it completely.

The fact that you hesitated tells him you’ve thought about this for awhile. He wonders when exactly you noticed your children noticing his empty space at the dinner table. He knows you’ve vouched for him in the past. His son was alot like him but his daughter was like you. She didn’t develop the ability to keep a secret yet, so when Eunseok apologized for falling asleep in the middle of telling her a story she was unfazed. His daughter read the book herself, thumbing to the next page while saying Mommy told us you work alot and we shouldn’t wake you up even if you fall asleep in the middle of your sentence. He didn’t know her vocabulary had gotten so developed, but she was just going through the book to look at the pictures.

Eunseok’s knew you kept your grievances to yourself to not upset the children. If they asked, you told them their father was working hard and hopes that they had a good day at school. You kissed your children an extra time on the forehead for him and only brought up Eunseok’s abscence in the family when he brought it up first. Your empathy hurts Eunseok, because you force him to become a man that has to talk about how he’s feeling.

You never withheld information about your kids, you never rubbed it in that you got to spend more time with them. He doesn’t know how you have so much patience for him, even when he’s so tired coming home he can barely reach out his arm to hold you. You always woke up and buried your head in his chest, bringing him closer and sighing so contently like he never left. The fact that he’s constantly so locked into his work he can barely muster the energy to call pains him.

“I know, I really do.” Eunseok speaks truthfully into the line. He sighs himself, leaning deeper into his chair.

His voice must’ve been desperate enough because he hears you hum again as your sleepy mind tries to recollect how their days went. He can imagine the gears turning in your mind, and he feels another pull at his chest.

“Well your son has that soccer game this weekend. Your daughter’s school play is next week. They’ve been preparing for that like crazy, it’s all either of them talk about.” You answer.

Eunseok remembers seeing you put together your daughters costume for the play, and picking his son up from practice when you had to go to a doctor’s appointment.

He gets all the quick updates throughout your day, ranging from taking the kids to practice to cleaning the house to making dinner to doing practically everything else. He has missed every single practice and rehearsal for his kids, forcing you to take on the role of being the active parent in addition to you living your life. He wouldn’t be able to do what he does here if you weren’t working tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. Times like this is when that all really hits him. Eunseok is taken aback by the fact that you were probably on your feet all day and still have the energy to humor him this late at night. He also realizes that you two have fallen into the roles you told yourselves you'd never fall in to. You swore to be a modern couple, where the husband becomes a stay at home Dad and the wife becomes the CEO.

“Thank you for all that you do.” Eunseok says after a beat of silence.

“I like doing it. Thank you for all you do.” Eunseok can hear you trying to sound clear on the other end of the line. He hears you making an attempt to wake yourself up to be the energizer he needs while you imagine a life where your husband comes home in the evening. “How’s everything going?” You ask.

Eunseok has told you the gist of what’s going on at his job. In the moments when you are both awake when you get ready to start your day and Eunseok reluctantly gets ready for his, you two can occasionally have a conversation. Sometimes it feels like two old friends catching up over a cup of coffee, or estranged lovers when you lean in close to fix his tie.

Over time you’ve picked up how stressful this time of year is for him, and how he has to manage so many people. He tries his best to hide the immense pressure he’s under, but over the years and being able to pick up on his body language he knows you can tell. You let him know you’re there for support in your own little ways. Rubbing out his tense shoulders or fixing his posture when he’s slouched eating reheated dinner. Slipping in tiny notes into his lunchbox. Nursing his dying office plants back to life. Answering phone calls in the middle of the night. You do things for Eunseok that lets him know he’s not alone and that you see the work he does for you and your family. Just thinking about it is enough to get him to blast through the rest of these reports, but it also makes him miss you so much it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest and swim across the Hudson to find you.

“It’s alot, but I’m almost done.” He answers.

Silence on the other end of the line. Eunseok pushed his glasses back up his nose and tries to listen for snoring.

“They have you working hard for that corner office.” You say.

Eunseok laughs to himself and realizes he hasn’t done that in God knows how long. Everything has been too serious to him as of late, he’s been so worried and stressed that he’s kept nothing but a straight face. He thinks by the end of this he will have stress lines embedded into his skin.

“I have to atleast put three hours in before they let me roll up the blinds.” He adds.

Now it’s your turn to laugh on the other end of the line. Eunseok can’t stop himself from smiling at your quiet laughter, even when you sigh wistfully directly into his ear.

“That view is to die for, though. You can basically see the whole city from up there.” You say.

Eunseok turns in his chair, making the cord from the office phone strain to follow him. You were right, Eunseok could see the whole city from up here. Even at night the lit up buildings were beautiful, and in the daytime it was so breathtaking it even made his two rowdy kids stop mid cartwheel to press their grubby hands to the glass.

“I still remember when you visited me here.”

Eunseok remembers the feeling of pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his family loving the office he got in his promotion. He smiled at your wide eyes as you asked him if this was really his office now. Ever since then he’s worked extra hard to keep it.

Another beat of silence. Eunseok thinks you’ve really fallen asleep this time.

“Which time?” You ask. “Because I’ve been there a couple times.”

The change in your voice is too obvious, the shuffling on the other end of the line makes Eunseok’s heart drop. He feels anticipation already swelling in his chest.

There was that time you brought the family to see the office for the first after you picked the kids up from school, there was that time you came by for an office party. You drop by atleast once a week to have lunch with Eunseok on his break, or when you forced him to leave to stop him from working too hard.

But there was also that one time you showed up after everyone had left only wearing that long fur coat Eunseok bought you and red stockings. He was sitting in the same chair he was now when you revealed your big surprise to him, you even took the time to tie a bow around your waist. Eunseok has never forgotten about his work as fast as he did then, he’s never done anything as risky as pushing your naked body against the big glass windows of his corner office. You two did less than savory things for the better half of an hour, before Eunseok pulled you into the back of a taxi to finish the job at home. Just thinking about it made him pull at his tie to loosen it around his neck.

“Which time were you talking about, Seok?” You repeat.

You haven’t said his nickname with that type of infliction in your voice in ages. Eunseok feels that churn in his stomach at the thought of you in front of him.

“I was thinking about the first time—”

“The first time I sucked your dick underneath your desk?” You interrupt.

Eunseok starts using his other hand to grip the edges of his office chair. When he looked down at the space that you fit into perfectly he gets lightheaded. The delirium from caffeine and lack of sleep makes Eunseok see you vividly, he can feel the way your hands pressed into his thighs as you did your best to take all of him.

“Or the first time you bent me over it?” You continue.

He can’t stop his dick from pressing against the fabric of his slacks. When he adjusts himself in his office chair he rubs against his clothes in a way that makes him sigh directly into the phone as he sinks lower into the cushion.

“I still remember that time you were on the phone with those clients that were really rude to you—“

“The delivery company from Staten Island?” Eunseok interjects because he’s too excited remembering that time with you. He feels pride swell in your chest when you make a sound of recollection on your end of the line.

“I remember they called you on the phone and I was sitting in your lap. Your voice started to get all shaky when I started grinding on you—“

“I remember.” Eunseok interrupts you again because he can barely stand hearing you repeat it back to him. He still has scratch marks on the lip of his desk where you were holding onto it for stability. He still has the underwear you were wearing that day locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“You hung up on them so fast when they started asking you why you were breathing all heavy.” You finish.

Eunseok hums and readjusts in his seat. His sensitive dick rubs against his slacks and he lets out a shaky breath. He slowly lets himself grind against his pants, the slightest bit of friction makes him grip the armrest of his chair.

“Are you alone?” You ask.

Eunseok chuckles dryly at your terribly timed question. You should’ve asked it before you tortured him with memories of you two being together. He lets go of the side of his chair and presses the base of his palm into his straining dick. The force is almost too much, and the fact that he hasn’t touched himself in forever makes everything more intense.

“I’m alone.” Eunseok quickly reaches for the string hat brings the shutters down his windows. “Are you?” He asks.

“Yes I’m alone Seok. I was waiting for you.” You say.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He immediately gives into your taunts, remorse and desperation makes him almost whine for your forgiveness. “I’m here now, though.” He says.

You hum and Eunseok can hear you place the phone on your chest. The speaker of the phone presses to his ear with your heartbeats and he can hear the sound of sheets moving.

He already knows you’re undressing yourself, starting with your bottoms. Eunseok can hear the muffled sound of effort as the sheets rustle some more. He presses the heel of his hand deeper into his crotch, until he can’t fight the urge to grind his hips against his palm.

“What are you wearing?” You ask him quietly.

He continues slowly grinding as he looks down to his feet. His legs are already spread across his carpet, out in front of him for maximum comfort.

“I’m wearing those black suede dress shoes you bought me last year for Christmas.” He says. He clicks the tips of his shoes together three times, maybe you’ll appear in front of him on his desk the same way you’re on the bed.

“They’re comfy right?” You ask desperately.

Hearing the tilt in your voice makes Eunseok sink deeper into his office chair. He moves only his hand so he can fully focus on your question.

“I can be in them all day no problem.” Your shaky breath comes through the phone and Eunseok smiles. He can see the look of relief you get when he praises you. He imagines you’re still trying to take it slow, only applying light pressure to your clit to match his excitement. “Everyone compliments them all the time. I tell everyone my wife got them for me.” He adds.

“I love when you call me that.” You whimper on the other end of the line. “What else? You’re wearing that gray suit I laid out for you this morning right?”

“Yeah baby. But I got a little cold so I put on my black sweater.” He says.

“Take it off for me. Please.” You beg.

It’s been too long. He’s had trouble mustering up the energy to do anything beyond a few pecks on the cheek. At his worst there were times he was so tired he couldn’t get it up, just apologizing profusely while scissoring his fingers into your cunt. There were also times you had to do all the work in bed too, using his body merely as a vessel to get all of your frustrations out.

The begging tone in your voice is different from the times you were demanding him to give you one more, and that you weren’t done with him yet. You already sound like you’re close. But he only blames himself for not touching you in so long. He was unfortunately too busy thinking about how to reprimand his paralegals without being too mean to do things to you. Your tolerance for teasing in bed and your endurance had slimmed down, making you already teeter on the edge before Eunseok could even start with the dirty talk.

But he has to admit he’s proud you haven’t slipped your fingers inside of yourself. The last person on Earth that listens to him; you wait because he hasn’t told you to do it yet.

He feels that pride swell in his chest and it mixes with the intense longing. He listens to your plea, purposefully making extra noise with his belt so you might be able to hear it. Eunseok scoots his office chair across the dark carpet until his legs are under the desk. He lets his dress pants fall to his ankles, and he shivers at the cold air of his office. There’s already a splotch from precum seeping through his briefs, and Eunseok moans when he sees himself twitch. You moan back, helpless and weak as you try to think of what to say next.

“Did you take it off?” You ask.

“Just down to my ankles.” Eunseok folds his waistband just enough for his dick to spring free. It slaps against his stomach. He wishes you could see how pink and angry his tip is and how his dick pulses at the mere thought of you. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither.” You huff.

Eunseok wraps his hand around his tip, letting the sticky precum coat his palm. When he has enough he slowly thrusts up into his hand, gripping the phone with all of his might.

“You’re already playing with yourself, right?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You whine.

“What are you doing?”

When you answer with a whine again Eunseok has to add a little more bass to his voice. He needs you to stay with him even if he’s miles away. Him rutting into his hands in his office when he should be doing work is barbaric. This goes against everything Eunseok practices, it’s a risk and if he thinks about what he’s doing too much he’ll never finish. He needs the visual of what you’re doing on the other end of the line. You laying on top of the covers with your eyes closed trying to keep your moans quiet is beautiful. The way your body is screaming for more is poetic, like an innate part of you needs him to get off.

“Tell me everything.” He orders lightly.

“I’m on top of the bed because it was getting too hot underneath the covers.” You say.

Eunseok hums in acknowledgment and tightens his hand around the base of his dick. He’s slow and squeezes himself out, trying to match the steady tone you attempt to have in your voice.

“I only took my bottoms off because I’m too impatient.” You continue.

Eunseok disapprovingly clicks his tongue at you as if he’s any better. He’s the one that’s fucking his hand with his pants around his ankles.

“And I’m only touching my clit with two fingers, the way you always do it.”

Your words are high-pitched now. Eunseok can hear you trying so hard to hold on.

“What’s your other hand doing baby?” Eunseok asked.

“Holding the phone.” You sighed.

Eunseok finally let his hand speed up. He had the perfect visual of you now, and he could fill in the gaps of the details you missed. He’s sure you’re squirming on top of the mattress and arching your back when something felt particularly good. Eunseok is locked onto his dick, he watches a glob of spit fall on his shaft before his hand uses it as extra lubrication.

He tries his best to mimic the way you’d pulse and close in around his dick. His hand isn’t warm enough and he can feel spaces in his fingers. Nothing can come close to emulating you or what’s between your legs. It’s futile, it almost makes Eunseok cry into the phone about how much he needs to fuck you in his office again. He tries to find a solution elsewhere, if he can’t see you or feel it maybe he can hear it.

“Put her on the phone.” Eunseok tugs at himself again and his back arches from the chair. “I wanna hear her.” He huffs.

Eunseok can hear your quick okay then the sound of the phone pulling away from your breathy moans. He presses the phone as deep as he can to his ear, as he imagines your current position. Legs bent with one hand on your clit while the other brings the phone between your legs. Eunseok holds his breath at how shameless and compromised you probably look just to follow his orders.

Then it breaks through. The lewd wet sound of your fingers slinking down to tease your entrance. His mouth waters at the thought of you coating your fingers, purposefully moving a little faster and rougher so the sound is more prominent. You just do so much just for his benefit, and all he has to do is work for you. You are too giving to Eunseok’s take, it makes him feel like a terrible husband but also lights a fire so deep in his stomach that his hand picks up the speed.

“Did you hear it?” You sound like you’ve run a mile when you pant into the phone.

Eunseok nods, as if you’re right in front of him before he releases his bottom lip from his teeth.

“I heard it.” Eunseok feels his throat go dry and he’s swear he can taste you. “You’re so wet.” He whispers.

“I am.” Your voice trembles on the other side of the line, the same way you always did when he would sink into you. “My fingers are just sliding in and out.”

The visual description and astonishment in your voice makes Eunseok rut into his hand. He does it so abruptly the things shake on his desk and he almost pitches forward to really focus on fucking his hand. He fights everything in him to remain sitting upright, cursing directly into the phone through clenched teeth.

”Fuck.”

“Can I hear you, too?” Your question is pushed out when you slide your fingers back in.

Lust makes your question sound like an order, and Eunseok is humming yes baby into the receiver when the pulls his phone from his face.

Eunseok woke his computer screen up by his sudden movements. He averts his eyes from the numbers to look down underneath his desk. The sight is dirty. If he told himself as an intern he’d be in a fancy corner office jerking his dick off extra loud so his wife could hear it through the phone he would’ve had a heart attack from the shock. Quiet and professional Eunseok would never do such a thing. But now he moves his hand a little faster for your benefit, biting his lip so hard he thinks he might draw blood.

He keeps going, getting lost in the debauched circumstances of it all. He feels like a caveman chasing after something so primal while pretending like you’re right there. If he could have his way he’d look up from his dick and see you laid out on his desk the same way you were on the bed, hand between your legs while you looked directly at him.

Eunseok brought the phone back up to his ear, swallowing deep because it felt like his tie was choking him.

“Could you hear it, baby?” He asked.

“I heard it.” Eunseok can hear you squirming on top of the sheets. You always needed his hand planted on your waist to stop you from moving so much. “She misses you.” You finally stutter over the line.

When Eunseok puts his phone between his shoulder and chin he can smell you. Your hand lotion still lingers on his clothes from when you smoothed his dress shirt this morning. When he closes his eyes he can see you teetering around his office, holding up the dying monstera leaves and frowning at their droop.

“I miss you.” Eunseok says it clearly, fucking into his hand faster than before.

“I miss you too.” He knows you’re fingers have sped up by the way your voice has gotten pathetic and quiet. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” You say.

Even though you technically saw him this morning, he understands completely what you mean. You two haven’t seen eachother in weeks. Eunseok hasn’t had enough time to do something like kissing your shoulder or pulling you close throughout the day. You’re too sweet to complain about it. Even now when you should be mad you only sound weak and apologetic, like you’re the neglecting workaholic husband and he’s the lonely housewife.

“I know baby, I’ll make it up to you.” He has to grip the middle of the phone tight to keep his voice even. ”You’re close though, right?” Eunseok asks.

His steady tone only makes you fall deeper. One of your legs slides out from underneath you, your other digs into the mattress. You went back to rubbing your clit, the absence of Eunseok’s fingers inside of you makes it impossible to cum from just penetration. Rubbing tight circles on your swollen bud gets the job done, because within seconds you’re fighting your thighs from closing tight around your fidgeting hand.

“Keep your legs spread.” Eunseok grunts into the phone. “Don’t stop either.”

It’s like he’s here in the room with you, right beside you on the bed. Even though you say nothing you’re sure he can hear and see it all, that he’s already painted himself an accurate picture of yourself.

“Are you close?” You ask.

Eunseok looks down again. He’s almost in pain from the impeding orgasm. He can feel his spit-slicked veins bump against his hand, and his sensitive tip still leaks precum. He can’t stop himself from twitching in his hand, and he can feel the coil in his stomach tightening.

“So close.” Eunseok seethes behind his teeth. “I’m so close.” He continues.

He has to hold his phone up with his shoulder to free his other hand. He quickly reaches across his desk, making sure to not hit anything in the process of grabbing tissues. He pulls them out in a frenzy, readjusting the phone to keep it in place. He needs to hear your muffled sounds clearly as he continues tugging on himself.

He’s quick with preparing the tissues and faster with his other hand. He wonders if the lewd sound filters through the phone the same way it does in his spacious office. Part of him wants to pry, to ask in a low voice if you know how bad he wishes his hand was yours. He hopes you know he’s imagining you in the empty space underneath his desk. Eunseok takes mercy because he assumes you’re too busy to notice, because you’re practically crying while you beg Eunseok to cum first.

He’s methodical with it. His neck is bent at an odd angle to keep the phone up but he ignores the pain as he balls up the tissues preemptively. He leans back in his cozy office chair, closing his eyes to get lost in your voice.

“I already came.” You moan.

“Good.” Eunseok coos at you before you can apologize for indulging in something you so clearly needed. He can’t stand the idea of you apologizing almost as much as he can’t stand that he wasn’t the one who did it for you.

He stills his hand and begins thrusting his hips upwards through his fist. He tightens it even more until there’s a struggle, until he has to grunt from the effort to get his tip to poke out from the top. He imagines your tongue laving his angry tip and your hands rubbing over his flexed stomach. “Just keep talking to me. I’m almost there.” He says.

“Eunseokie.” Eunseok hums loudly to your whimper, and he squeezes his eyes tight. He is losing his resolve with each passing second. He is panting into the phone by the time you speak again. “Is the view nice?” You ask.

He screws his eyes shut tighter. His loudest moan rips through his office as he leans back into his seat.

“It’s beautiful baby.” Eunseok says quietly.

“I wanna see it again soon.” You say. “There’s so many things we haven’t done in there yet.”

Eunseok doesn’t get the chance to tell you that he’ll get an apartment closer to the office because he thrusts into his hand one final time. His full body relaxes into his office chair and he works his hand one more time before he feels it. Relief spreading across his body and warm cum spurting from his tip. It’s a dribble at first, sliding down Eunseok’s fist and getting between his fingers. Then it’s a mess, getting on his thighs and his desk. He’s too strung out to use the tissues clutched in his hand, he has no choice but to ride it out completely. Your voice on the other end of the line doesn’t help. You’re a cooing mess, your bothered voice talks him through the orgasm that wracks through his body.

“I can hear you.” You tell him.

“I swear I can feel you.” He whimpers.

“I’m there. And you’ll be home soon, too.” You assure.

Another wave of pleasure comes through him. Eunseok’s toes crack in his dress shoes and his glasses are all the way down to the tip of his nose when he opens his eyes again. He has partial vision, everything is blurred and wobbling when his thighs shake.

“Shit.” He feels the droplets of cum on his thigh cool and he sees the mess he was trying to prevent. He lets his dick go and it helplessly flops to his thigh. Still everything about him is sensitive, he shivers when he gently presses the crumbled tissues to his sensitive inner thigh. “Fuck.” He curses.

“Did you make a mess?” You ask on the other end of the line.

Eunseok looks at his wet hand. He uses the tissues to dab off the wet trail marks and finishes cleaning up by wiping his palm across his black sweater. He grimaces at the thought of defiling his cashmere, but he needs a free hand to hold the phone to his other ear.

“A little bit.” His voice is weak and hoarse as he talks.

You hum. He knows you’re sleepy again, and for a moment he selfishly wants to rile you up again just so you can offer to take a cab to come clean him up. But Eunseok has kept you from your sleep long enough, and he also feels exhausted. He’s been at this desk looking at numbers all day and just came so hard it made his whole body shake. He thinks he could sleep for a week straight if given the chance.

“Can the rest of your work wait until tomorrow?” You yawn.

Eunseok pulls the bottom of the phone away from his mouth to yawn. His balled fist in front of his mouth forces him to smell himself and he grimaces again. He can tell that he won’t be able to make sense of these numbers and reports for the rest of the night. He reaches underneath his desk to pull his slacks back up his legs.

“It can.” He answers.

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” You say.

He can hear the smile in your voice. Eunseok tells you he loves you a million times before he hangs up the phone.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

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yuuhwa · 2 months ago

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Dark Game - Cap 3: Checkmate

Pairing: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader Genre: dark romance Context: After exchanging barbs and pranks, the unexpected (or expected) happened

a/n: I need your opinion. Do you prefer long or short chapters? I didn't know whether to write the meeting in this chapter or another one, so I wanted your opinion. Thanks in advance :))

It felt like the place had lost its charm since the last time Y/n had been there. But now she was back — not because of Seongje, of course not. She just needed a break, to clear her head, sit in front of the same old PC, play the same games. Relax.

Lies. The very first thing her eyes sought out was him.

There he was. Same machine. As always. Only this time, he wasn’t playing — he was watching. Her profile was pulled up on his screen, the mouse cursor hovering right over the game invite. As if he already knew she’d show up. As if he had been waiting.

“You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna challenge me already?” His voice cut through the hum of computers — a perfect echo of the line she had used the day before. He didn’t look away, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t yesterday’s beating enough for you?”

“I let you win a few rounds. I won’t go easy this time.” That arrogant smile widened across his face.

That damn smile. Y/n didn’t understand how something so simple could ignite something so... intense — maybe even warm — inside her.

“You better be ready to lose,” she shot back.

“I never play to lose.” He stood slowly, patting the seat beside him. “Let’s see if your mouth matches your skill.”

She muttered something under her breath as she sat down. They picked a fast-paced shooter — tense, chaotic. The rules were simple: loser does a dare. Nothing too extreme... or so she thought. But something in his eyes — a hunger, restrained and sharp — said otherwise.

Seongje was different today. More direct. More dangerous. The way he narrated each move, each ambush... it felt like he was playing two games at once. And in the second one, she was already caught.

“Running from me? That’s odd... thought you liked a little pressure,” he said, closing the gap between their chairs without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Pressure doesn’t scare me. Honestly, I think you’re the one sweating,” she snapped back, fingers flying across the keyboard.

The match ended. The big bold “Game Over” flashed before Y/n’s eyes. From the corner of her vision, she saw the smug smile spreading across Seongje’s face. Familiar — but today, it was different. There was something else behind the satisfaction of his win.

He had destroyed her. Completely.

She groaned. “Alright, what’s the dare?”

Without hesitation, he leaned in. Too close. His sharp eyes glinting behind his glasses, desperate to lock onto hers. Their breaths mingled. His voice came out low, hoarse.

“You’re going out with me. Tonight.”

She laughed — dry, sarcastic. “That’s not even a dare. I could do that if I wanted to.”

A strange cocktail of thrill and tension twisted inside her — even though she masked it perfectly.

“But you haven’t. Not yet,” he murmured, eyes locked. “Now you will... because you lost.”

Y/n hesitated. Something about the way he said it — it wasn’t just a date. It felt like a move. A calculated one.

And the worst part? She wanted to see where it would lead.

“Fine. But if you bore me, I vanish.”

“You won’t,” he said, with the certainty of someone who already had the game in his hands.

And for the first time, Y/n wondered if she was still playing... Or if she had already become the prize.

#geum seongje x reader #weak hero class 2 fics #geum seong je #weak hero class x reader #whc2 x reader #whc2 #weak hero class two #seongje x reader

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avengersbtch · 1 year ago

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You're Lucky Your Beautiful - Armando Aretas

Armando Aretas x Reader

Warnings: This fic does not follow to the film’s timeline. I have altered the scenes!!

A/N Pre relationship flirting?? Or maybe pre- pre-relationship flirting lol idk but it’s cute, I think. I’m a sucker for pre relationship fics and the build up!!!

Summary: Y/N pinged the location of Mike & Marcus’, leading to Armando meeting y/n for the first time and a roller coaster of emotions in one night.

Word Count: 3.4k

The hunt for Mike, Marcus and Armando was plastered on every news outlet known, you felt useless watching every news reporter talk down on Mike and Marcus as you were trying to look for them. Marcus felt more like father figures to you than your actual parents did so watching everyone jump at the opportunity to talk down on their reputation they built was crushing, you also knew for an absolute fact that everything they were saying was false and you would bet your life on that too. You had no feelings toward Armando, you neither liked nor hated him. Mike obviously felt deeply for his long-lost son, but you had never met him, so seeing him on the news didn’t really inflict any feelings. All you knew was that he was the key to the case and after Mike insisted he ID the suspect, Armando agreed reluctantly.

You were snuggled on your cream cotton couch sitting on your laptop trying to track down or contact the boys without the Feds knowing. They had pulled you off their case, knowing how close you were and took most of your personal belongings or tapped the rest assuming Marcus might contact you. This laptop was your backup, backup laptop, so thankfully they didn’t find this one.

Just as you were going to call it a night, your laptop pinned an advancement on their case, a location. Of-course Mike had gone to Tabitha’s, probably not wanting to get you involved in whatever mess he’s in. You immediately jumped and ran to get dressed to be some sort of assistance, now you weren’t physically or skill-fully equipped for combat, you could admit that, however expertise excelled behind a computer, and everyone knew that. Either way you know they could at least use a safe place to stay and whatever else you could offer.

You slipped in black jeans and a long sleeve black fitted top with a hoodie, with the aim of staying as inconspicuous as possible. You quickly slipped into your sneakers as you jump into your car, following the reports of their location. You’d probably get fired for doing what you were about to do, especially given there is a high chance an actual criminal is tagging along to their adventures. That obviously being Armando, but you decided would deal with that later.

Speeding down the highway, you could hear the sirens closing in and the gunshots becoming more consistent. As you neared the scene, you could see multiple cop cars, large four-wheeled drives, and vans at all different angles. This would be a nightmare for you to find them. You drove into an alleyway, noticing the traffic moving in the same direction and slowly parked behind a large dump bin. Exiting the car, you left the ignition running to assist in easier escape. As you walked out the alleyway, you peeked out of the corner of the wall seeing a large black van on fire.

“Guess it wasn’t that hard to find them” you chuckled rolling your eyes at the current state of the vehicle they were using. You watched them jump out the moving van just as the van light and exploded right before your eyes. You count three. Meaning they were in fact accompanied by Armando. Great. You eyed the three of them, as they ran in your direction, you eyed the scene making sure there were no witnesses and no threats. When you deemed it safe, you stepped out of the alleyway in full vision. They all paused, Mike squinted as if recognising your figure and slowly stepped closer.

“Y/n?!” He questioned in surprise, obviously not expecting to see a familiar face.

“Y/n? Mike what are you on about?” Marcus followed until he spotted you “Y/n!” He confirmed once he ID’d you. More for himself really.

“let’s have a family reunion later, hurry up my car’s around there” you pointed in a hurry as you ran off expecting them to follow you. You couldn’t waste any time, you need to get the out of here before they were spotted again. You slip into the driver’s seat waiting for them to get in, taking longer than usual you turn to see Armando still outside of the car.

“Dude, get in the car. We need to go” you hissed. Did he not understand the severity of the situation?

“How can we trust her?” Armando asked looking over my shoulder at Mike.

“Who else do you have right now? get in or I’m leaving. I really don’t care whether you live or die” I whisper yelled, pre-emptively interrupting their conversation.

“Armando, get in. We can trust her” Mike sighed. Armando’s eyes flicked over to you and back to Mike then back over to you until he decided to trust you and slipped in the back seat near Marcus. You rolled your eyes, setting your car into drive and shaking your head, as if you were begging for him to trust you.

The drive back was silent, almost awkward giving you were aiding the escape of a fugitive. Deciding to break the long silence, you joked “So I see you guys decided to quit you day job and harbour a wanted fugitive”.

“Ha ha y/n, just get us to yours please. We need to get to Dorn’s tomorrow morning. Armando is our only lead to ID the suspect, they’re going lengths to try and kill him” Marcus explained, and his eyes remained on the road watching for any unwanted noise. Your eyes flicked to Armando through the rear-view mirror. His eyes also trained on the road and his surroundings. You had to admit, he was extremely good looking, even with his bud light shirt and his burnt jeans, the only thing you could focus on was his shining eyes. God damn. You trained your eyes back to the road in front of you and kept driving almost smacking yourself for checking him out.

“How did you find us?” Armando asked in curiosity, though his face did not emote. If it wasn’t for the question, it was almost like he didn’t give a fuck.

“Oh uh, I, I uhm I’ve been tracing the feeds on your location. Just about everyone is looking for you. Though they’ve been pretty late to finding you guys after the uh crash” you stuttered honestly shocked at his interest. Not sure whether he’s asking you because he wants to know or testing you.

“Armando, y/n’s the brains behind the operation. We’ve known her since she was a kid. She’s not with them, relax we can trust her” Mike supported you, confirming your concerns. He was just testing you.

Arriving at home, you parked in your driveway, telling them to follow you as you walked up a short flight of stairs to your door. You felt a sense of nerves inviting Armando into your home and you weren’t sure whether that was because he was a criminal or extremely attractive, which was truly concerning. Walking into your home, everything remained as you left it with your laptop on the couch where you were seated, the chips and red bull beside you on the mahogany coffee table. The house wasn’t messy but looked lived in with there being left over steak and chips on the table that you hadn’t yet cleaned up from dinner, some cups in the sink that required cleaning from the night prior that were on display with the dim kitchen light still on, illuminating the small kitchen and the remaining condiments that you had not packed up yet. Your home was small along with your kitchen, so any small mess would look like a lot.

“Sorry guys, the house is a bit of a mess. I had just finished dinner before your location pinged” you lied slightly trying to excuse the mess. “there’s leftover food if you guys are hungry and give me a sec, I’ll get you guys something to change into” you offered as you walked to fetch them clothes to change into, unsure of what or why they were wearing those clothes.

“What man does she have that lives here?” Armando’s thick accent echoing from the room. It sounded more pronounced than usual, Furrowing your brows, you continued to listen as you selected clothes for the three of them.

“Why do you care?” Mike asks accusingly which makes you chuckle slightly.

“I’m just saying, is he gonna walk in here, and see us all here and rat us out? we need to be smarter than that, or do we trust everyone that you say we can, because that didn’t work out with Tabitha” he answered defensively, and Mike threw a knowing hum as I finished collecting their clothes.

I walk out of the spare room with the clothes and smile sweetly in hopes that maybe he’ll finally trust me and explain “My brother comes and stays at mine when he’s in town. No one is going to come in, like I said, you can trust me”

He stares at me again as if he doesn’t give a fuck, his eyes give away nothing and I wait expectantly for some sort of comeback.

“Don’t worry about him y/n, he knows no one’s walking in. He just asking questions he shouldn’t” Mike waved him off as Marcus in the kitchen where he was already hammering my snacks.

Armando still staring and this becoming increasingly awkward, you handed him some clothes, not noticing which ones you offered him, he took them without fight and walked to the shower without a single thank you, causing you to mutter “a thank you would be nice, it’s not like I’m begging for you to stay”

“Enojado te queda bien” he mumbled as he slammed the door. You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he just told you, he could have insulted you for all you know. You had known this man for all of five minutes and he was already getting on your nerves. Slipping off your hoddie, you noticed Mike and Marcus plating some of the leftovers which you were happy about, you followed in to help them and although the man in the bathroom was pissing you off, you did feel bad for him given he was just in prison and was now on the run because someone was trying to kill him so Ultimately, you decided to plate him some too before they demolished it all.

“Your son is showering I think, so you guys can go next. The clothes are on the couch” you announced as you plated the food. Marcus paused plating and eyed out the plate in your hand.

“I thought you ate” he asked knowingly, well it was more of a statement that caused you to roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me that look Marcus, I’m putting him a plate before you demolish the food” you explained in defence.

“Mhmm” he hummed offering me a side eye while he returned to plating his food.

“Marcus don’t mhm me! As much of a dick he is, I’m not heartless” you argued again defensively, there was most definitely nothing of what Marcus was insinuating. He was a criminal for god’s sake! Yes, a gorgeous one but nevertheless a criminal.

You moved to dish as the boys went to eat dinner on the couch, given the size of your house, there was really no room to fit a dining table in the kitchen or living room, so you opted to have a multi-use coffee table instead. As you were washing the dishes you heard the bathroom door open, forcing yourself not to turn your head only so you didn’t offer Marcus anymore ammo to suggest anything further, continuing to clean you dishes. You felt the warmth of his presence near you as you assumed he was reaching for the food you’d plated him, the closer he got, the harder it was to keep your eyes trained on the dishes, let alone your focus. You moved your eyes slightly to see him eyeing the food out with caution, any tension remaining sprinting out of your body as you rolled your eyes at his distrust.

“it’s not poisoned Armando” you stated obviously unable to hide the second eye roll. His eyes lifting with his head still facing down and lips tilted in a slight smirked. Soon after his head followed the position of his eyes, looking straight at you with a smirk. His eyes slowly skimming your now slightly more exposed body up & down until he finally reached your eyes again. Your brows furrowed yet again, analysing the situation that just occurred.

“Are you? Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?” you questioned with your voice an octave higher.

He chuckled at your question and flicked his head in demand “Can I have a fork Mami?” he asked with the same smirk on his face.

You were embarrassed to admit the baby name caught you off guard, he had your head turning to the forks trying to identify the purpose of the utensil he requested, then turning back to him trying to figure out what game he was playing.

You turned you back to the forks and him at least twice until you demanded an answer “Why are you trying to piss me off, what’s your game?” you asked furiously as you grabbed him a fork.

“Like I said, Angry looks good on you mami” he stated as a matter of fact. Your eyes widen in shock and if you were flustered before, you were a walking mess after that comment. You stood in the kitchen staring at his back absolutely flabbergasted at the sudden change, you needed a second to breath, to process the two comments he made. One minute he was as cold as Antarctica, next he was playing jokes and calling you very cute nicknames that may or may not have sounded 10 times better in his accent. You pinched yourself and walked to the living room hearing Mike call you in the background, deciding to sit on the floor far from Armando and turned straight to Mike.

“Did you like the food?” You asked Mike, trying to ignore the hot stare on your left. You could feel him staring and eating at the same time.

“Thank you so much y/n, for the food but also for putting yourself on the line for us, I know what risk you are taking.” He thanked with sincerity.

You smiled at his sincerity “Mike, you know I would stop everything for you guys, next time just come straight to me please?” you asked honestly, and he smiled back and nodded acknowledging your heartfelt request. You, out of instinct turned your focus to the burning stares on your left, forgetting your internal feud and notice him staring intently this time, no playfulness or smugness, just wonder and awe at your loyalty. His focus re-trained, noticing you starting he smiled, not one reaching his eyes but one that you could tell meant something. This smile sparked something in you, it was probably also seeing him eat like he hadn’t eaten in months, which may have truly been the case, given that he was in prison, but whatever it was it had you inclined to personally ask him if he liked the food.

“Are you enjoying the meal, Armando?” you asked as you looked at him innocently, and while it may as well could have been innocent. Armando’s heart melted at little at your concern, he could see the worry in your eyes, the need for him to say yes that he was enjoying it. Not that he would be lying if he said yes, he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in months, let alone a home cooked piece of steak but that face would have made him say yes anyway.

The jokes and games for a second forgotten, lost in your eyes and he smiled softly as he answered “Yes, thank you y/n”. She smiled and looked toward her lap with a slight blush on her face leaving Armando weak for more. He coughed almost to break the spell you had put him under and looked at Mike, his brows were raised almost as warning but right now, he really didn’t care, he just wanted to make you smile again.

“Ok, well! I’ll take that as my cue, Mike you wanna go sleep?” Marcus announced awkwardly. Mike caught on quick and jumped at the offer agreeing at least three times that he was tired.

“Oh uh of course, I have a spare room, there is a mattress under the bed too if you guys want to take the spare room?” you blinked, shaking yourself out of whatever head fuck that Armando caused as offered the room.

“Yeah, sounds good, Armando are you good to take the couch?” Mike asked not really giving him an option. Armando just nodded while finishing of his food.

“Armando can take my room, I’m okay on the couch tonight” I offered, knowing they’d only be staying here tonight.

“No. the couch is fine” He answered, causing you to frown a little as the dismissive tone on his voice. But little did you know, he didn’t want you sleeping on the couch.

“Honestly it’s fine, you guys are only here for one night and no offense, but you’ve been sleeping in a prison for ages, I fall asleep on my couch all the time” You over-explained hoping he would take you up on your offer. You looked at Mike and Marcus for encouragement and when they weren’t going to assist, you threw them a glare that forced them to convince him to take your bed. He reluctantly agreed and thanked you to which you smiled at again. God he should have said yes sooner if he’d known he’d see your smile again.

The boys cleaned up their plates and went off to bed as they had a so aggressively agreed they needed to do. You noticed Armando had finished his plate, so you offered him more which he politely declined. To say you were confused was an understatement, one minute he was mean and defensive, then flirty and now nice. He was difficult to read and even harder to please.

He packed his plate up as well; you watched as he then stood at the sink cleaning his dishes as you moved to the couch crossing your legs. He was wearing a black tank top that had his tanned arms on display, biceps flexing every time he scrubbed a little harder, at this point, you were staring at him unashamedly. Well, that was before he called you out for it.

“You gonna keep staring, or you wanna help” he smirked still washing, but you were not going to let him have this one, not while you had the confidence to stare at him.

“didn’t I give you a top plus the tank?” You asked knowing that you were calling him out for choosing to look so fucking sexy right now. Ok maybe it wasn’t much of a comeback, but hopefully it would catch him off guard, the same way he did to you. He paused washing, indicating it may have had the desired effect, causing a small smirk to lift on your lips.

He looked up, rinsing off the last dish “Where’d your hoodie go?” he asked back almost in retaliation walking closer to you. You just lifted your shoulders with a cheeky confused look on your face “Tienes suerte eres hermosa” He commented in Spanish again.

Brows furrowing yet again with a slight frown “What does that mean?” more confident to ask.

He smiled so softly and leaned in close to your face, your eyes followed his movements and face still. As he moved closer to your ear, your eyes moved straight ahead focusing on his voice. “You are lucky you're beautiful” He translated. Your head turned so quickly looking directly at him, your faces almost touching. He looked down at your lips and then back up your eyes, his head moved slightly and opted for a soft peck on the cheek as he whispered goodnight.

This man would be the absolute death of you, you knew this for sure.

#armando x reader #armando aretas #bad boys #jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys 4 #Armando Aretas Imagine #armando aretas fanfic

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punished-affection · 5 months ago

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☾ — yandere stalker x reader !

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　. .　　　　☾　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　,　 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀ 　　,　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀ ✮　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdivider credit: h-aewo.

notes: lucian my pathetic boy <3

warnings: yandere content, unhealthy relationships, stalking, obsession, unconsensual photo taking, gn reader but terms such as 'pretty' are used, mentions of alcohol, crying, dependency, you get drunk but nothing happens dw.

♡ — yandere stalker who wasn't actually meant to meet you. you live in two different worlds, so his path was never meant to cross with yours. but you just so happened to be best friends with his sister. he's not delusional enough to call it fate, but it felt close.

♡ — he loathed large crowds and parties, but his sister insisted he be her chauffeur. college parties were the worst kind of parties, in lucian's humble opinion, but driving his sister to such a party is the only reason he had been able to meet you.

♡ — you were nothing like his sister, so he's not sure how the two of you ended up becoming such good friends. you greeted him with a friendly smile, apologizing for making him drive such a long way to pick you up.

♡ — he's not built for small talk, so the entire drive was painfully silent until you took notice of the came he had in the backseat. when you asked if you could look at the photos he'd taken, his immediate reaction was to tell you no, but... he just muttered out a small 'okay'.

♡ — the poor guy's heart was racing in his chest, waiting for you to make some backhanded comment. photography was a hard field to find a stable job in, and his parents had been less than supportive, so it was nothing more than a hobby but he still felt nervous nonetheless.

♡ — he hadn't expected you to compliment his photos, though. he'd always been insecure in his photography skills, so it was... embarrassing?? to have someone as pretty as you praise him for random shots of the scenery.

♡ — it's so dumb, but that small amount of praise was enough to have you stuck in his mind even after he had dropped you off at the party. his sister had been eagerly waiting for you outside, passing you what he could only assume to be cheap alcohol as soon as you were within arm's length of her.

♡ — he doesn't know what compelled him to do it, but he scrambled to grab his camera off the passenger seat where you left it when you got out of his car, and he took a picture of you standing on the porch of whoever's house. the porchlight offered such shitty lighting, but you somehow looked stunning under it, and it felt as if his breath had been stolen from him.

♡ — lucian tries really really hard to ignore the weird feeling in his chest that he gets whenever you're around now. it's like his sister knew you had some effect on him, because she took you almost everywhere with her now. you're always so nice to him whenever you're around and it makes him feel all dizzy and nauseous and he's honestly pretty sure he's dying.

♡ — love is nothing something he's proficient in. he's never even dated anyone before, having spent his entire adolescence working hard to get the education his parents wanted of him. and even after graduating uni and getting a job as a computer programmer, he never put himself out there. he was just too painfully socially awkward, shying away from all advances made on him.

♡ — not that he wants to date you! no, oh my god, no, if you knew about the crush he was harboring on you, he'd actually die. he's... he's fine with just watching you from afar until this little crush goes away. because it... it will go away soon, right? right?

♡ — he tried really hard to convince himself that his feelings for you weren't that deep, and that they'd be gone if he just avoided you, but it didn't work. if anything, avoiding you somehow made things worse because he would find himself looking at all the pictures he's taken of you and he doesn't even remember taking so many photos.

♡ — the guilt eats away at him when he starts stalking you. he can't help it! the tightness in his chest only goes away when he can see you. he needed you. needed your praise, your kind words. please, he's so deprived of such an affection.

♡ — and when lucian drops you off at your home one night after a party while you're drunk, he feels like he's in heaven. you were clinging to him, trying to keep yourself from falling, and he felt as if his skin was on fire. by the time he managed to help you to your bedroom and drop you on your bed, he felt as if his heart was going to explode.

♡ — he's not sure how long he stayed in your room, watching you sleep. he doesn't know how many photos he took, but he took enough to max out his sd card. what he does know is that when he finally went back to his apartment, one of your shirts was tightly grasped in his hand. he feels so guilty, tears in his eyes. but your shirt was his pillowcase now.

♡ — and lord forbid if you ever actually catch him stalking you. it's his worst nightmare at this point, the very thought scaring him enough to the point where his hands start to shake and he starts to tear up. if you do catch him, lucian isn't against begging for your forgiveness. he's always been a bit pathetic, but the thought of losing what little affection you held for him only seemed to make him worse.

♡ — he'll cry. he'll drop to his knees, he'll cling to you. he'll do anything he can to make you pity him, to get you to feel bad enough for him that you won't send him away. he doesn't need you to love him, he just needs you to praise him. even if you have to lie.

#☼ — the stalker.#☼ — v's ocs.#yandere oc #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #stalker yandere

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dragonnarrative-writes · 2 months ago

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Generative AI Is Bad For Your Creative Brain

In the wake of early announcing that their blog will no longer be posting fanfiction, I wanted to offer a different perspective than the ones I’ve been seeing in the argument against the use of AI in fandom spaces. Often, I’m seeing the arguments that the use of generative AI or Large Language Models (LLMs) make creative expression more accessible. Certainly, putting a prompt into a chat box and refining the output as desired is faster than writing a 5000 word fanfiction or learning to draw digitally or traditionally. But I would argue that the use of chat bots and generative AI actually limits - and ultimately reduces - one’s ability to enjoy creativity.

Creativity, defined by the Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary & Thesaurus, is the ability to produce or use original and unusual ideas. By definition, the use of generative AI discourages the brain from engaging with thoughts creatively. ChatGPT, character bots, and other generative AI products have to be trained on already existing text. In order to produce something “usable,” LLMs analyzes patterns within text to organize information into what the computer has been trained to identify as “desirable” outputs. These outputs are not always accurate due to the fact that computers don’t “think” the way that human brains do. They don’t create. They take the most common and refined data points and combine them according to predetermined templates to assemble a product. In the case of chat bots that are fed writing samples from authors, the product is not original - it’s a mishmash of the writings that were fed into the system.

Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) is a therapy modality developed by Marsha M. Linehan based on the understanding that growth comes when we accept that we are doing our best and we can work to better ourselves further. Within this modality, a few core concepts are explored, but for this argument I want to focus on Mindfulness and Emotion Regulation. Mindfulness, put simply, is awareness of the information our senses are telling us about the present moment. Emotion regulation is our ability to identify, understand, validate, and control our reaction to the emotions that result from changes in our environment. One of the skills taught within emotion regulation is Building Mastery - putting forth effort into an activity or skill in order to experience the pleasure that comes with seeing the fruits of your labor. These are by no means the only mechanisms of growth or skill development, however, I believe that mindfulness, emotion regulation, and building mastery are a large part of the core of creativity. When someone uses generative AI to imitate fanfiction, roleplay, fanart, etc., the core experience of creative expression is undermined.

Creating engages the body. As a writer who uses pen and paper as well as word processors while drafting, I had to learn how my body best engages with my process. The ideal pen and paper, the fact that I need glasses to work on my computer, the height of the table all factor into how I create. I don’t use audio recordings or transcriptions because that’s not a skill I’ve cultivated, but other authors use those tools as a way to assist their creative process. I can’t speak with any authority to the experience of visual artists, but my understanding is that the feedback and feel of their physical tools, the programs they use, and many other factors are not just part of how they learned their craft, they are essential to their art.

Generative AI invites users to bypass mindfully engaging with the physical act of creating. Part of becoming a person who creates from the vision in one’s head is the physical act of practicing. How did I learn to write? By sitting down and making myself write, over and over, word after word. I had to learn the rhythms of my body, and to listen when pain tells me to stop. I do not consider myself a visual artist - I have not put in the hours to learn to consistently combine line and color and form to show the world the idea in my head.

But I could.

Learning a new skill is possible. But one must be able to regulate one’s unpleasant emotions to be able to get there. The emotion that gets in the way of most people starting their creative journey is anxiety. Instead of a focus on “fear,” I like to define this emotion as “unpleasant anticipation.” In Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown identifies anxiety as both a trait (a long term characteristic) and a state (a temporary condition). That is, we can be naturally predisposed to be impacted by anxiety, and experience unpleasant anticipation in response to an event. And the action drive associated with anxiety is to avoid the unpleasant stimulus.

Starting a new project, developing a new skill, and leaning into a creative endevor can inspire and cause people to react to anxiety. There is an unpleasant anticipation of things not turning out exactly correctly, of being judged negatively, of being unnoticed or even ignored. There is a lot less anxiety to be had in submitting a prompt to a machine than to look at a blank page and possibly make what could be a mistake. Unfortunately, the more something is avoided, the more anxiety is generated when it comes up again. Using generative AI doesn’t encourage starting a new project and learning a new skill - in fact, it makes the prospect more distressing to the mind, and encourages further avoidance of developing a personal creative process.

One of the best ways to reduce anxiety about a task, according to DBT, is for a person to do that task. Opposite action is a method of reducing the intensity of an emotion by going against its action urge. The action urge of anxiety is to avoid, and so opposite action encourages someone to approach the thing they are anxious about. This doesn’t mean that everyone who has anxiety about creating should make themselves write a 50k word fanfiction as their first project. But in order to reduce anxiety about dealing with a blank page, one must face and engage with a blank page. Even a single sentence fragment, two lines intersecting, an unintentional drop of ink means the page is no longer blank. If those are still difficult to approach a prompt, tutorial, or guided exercise can be used to reinforce the understanding that a blank page can be changed, slowly but surely by your own hand.

(As an aside, I would discourage the use of AI prompt generators - these often use prompts that were already created by a real person without credit. Prompt blogs and posts exist right here on tumblr, as well as imagines and headcannons that people often label “free to a good home.” These prompts can also often be specific to fandom, style, mood, etc., if you’re looking for something specific.)

In the current social media and content consumption culture, it’s easy to feel like the first attempt should be a perfect final product. But creating isn’t just about the final product. It’s about the process. Bo Burnam’s Inside is phenomenal, but I think the outtakes are just as important. We didn’t get That Funny Feeling and How the World Works and All Eyes on Me because Bo Burnham woke up and decided to write songs in the same day. We got them because he’s been been developing and honing his craft, as well as learning about himself as a person and artist, since he was a teenager. Building mastery in any skill takes time, and it’s often slow.

Slow is an important word, when it comes to creating. The fact that skill takes time to develop and a final piece of art takes time regardless of skill is it’s own source of anxiety. Compared to @sentientcave, who writes about 2k words per day, I’m very slow. And for all the time it takes me, my writing isn’t perfect - I find typos after posting and sometimes my phrasing is awkward. But my writing is better than it was, and my confidence is much higher. I can sit and write for longer and longer periods, my projects are more diverse, I’m sharing them with people, even before the final edits are done. And I only learned how to do this because I took the time to push through the discomfort of not being as fast or as skilled as I want to be in order to learn what works for me and what doesn’t.

Building mastery - getting better at a skill over time so that you can see your own progress - isn’t just about getting better. It’s about feeling better about your abilities. Confidence, excitement, and pride are important emotions to associate with our own actions. It teaches us that we are capable of making ourselves feel better by engaging with our creativity, a confidence that can be generalized to other activities.

Generative AI doesn’t encourage its users to try new things, to make mistakes, and to see what works. It doesn’t reward new accomplishments to encourage the building of new skills by connecting to old ones. The reward centers of the brain have nothing to respond to to associate with the action of the user. There is a short term input-reward pathway, but it’s only associated with using the AI prompter. It’s designed to encourage the user to come back over and over again, not develop the skill to think and create for themselves.

I don’t know that anyone will change their minds after reading this. It’s imperfect, and I’ve summarized concepts that can take months or years to learn. But I can say that I learned something from the process of writing it. I see some of the flaws, and I can see how my essay writing has changed over the years. This might have been faster to plug into AI as a prompt, but I can see how much more confidence I have in my own voice and opinions. And that’s not something chatGPT can ever replicate.

#fandom and ethics #writing meta #anti ai #creativity #mental health #dragonnarrativewrites essays

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starry-agere · 3 months ago

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Hello!! I was wondering if you had any suggestions for age regression related activities to do that don't include looking at something with a screen (phone, computer, etc)? My eyes get dry really fast so staring at these things can cause some pain. If it helps to narrow things down any, I'm a middle regressor (tween-teen) so some activities around that age work! Thank you in advance!!

hi !! here are some ideas that will hopefully work for you :)

offline activities for tween/teen agere

make friendship bracelets, loom bracelets, or kandi

do activity kits! there's tons of types, like science, painting, jewelry, and so many more. i know that michaels sells lots of these !

visit science or history museums! there's always so much to learn, and you can always bring a journal or sketchbook and write about or make drawings based on what you see

if you have a friend or family member to play with, play board games, card games, chess, or checkers!

jump rope! try learning more complex tricks for an extra challenge

bake some treats! it doesn't have to be complicated; you definitely can make something from scratch, but using a mix from the store is easy, fun, and delicious

make something out of duct tape, like a wallet! (remember when that was a thing?)

build with legos! there's so many different kinds of sets, for any kind of skill level and age. i've completed space, animal crossing and minecraft sets !

put together jigsaw puzzles !

buy coloring books or print out coloring pages! there's such a big market for adult/more detailed coloring books these days, so you're bound to find something fun to color

make origami - all you need is some origami paper, and it's tons of fun

make slime! you can even buy kits from the store to make specific kinds of slime

garden! you could plant native wildflowers outside, plant a vegetable plant or herb, or you could even just plant a flower in a pot on your windowsill. there are also gardening kits that you can buy; i've done a couple of Back to the Roots' sprouts kits, and they're really fun!

i hope that these provide some good ideas for tween + teen age regressors looking for some offline activities! have fun <3

#agere #age regression #age regressor #agere blog #sfw agere #sfw interaction only #sfw regression #agere community #teen regressor #teen regression #teenre #middle agere #middle regression

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starryeyedstray · 2 months ago

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(cough) I just realized smt, whenever Connor is connecting to an android or receives a case via digitally, he blinks and twitches rapidly—

^ (like in this scene-)

^ (and this scene with Hank.)

I don’t really have a built up expectation in my head but I was hoping maybe you could come up with one :> (edit: thought I could upload this anonymously 😭)

hello hello, tyvm for the ask bc i indeed have some thoughts about this very thing~!!!

so before we dive into headcanons, let's get clear about what the game's canon proposes. this rapid blinking by connor occurs first when he shares his authorization with the st300 and again when he receives a report at chicken feed. so we can extrapolate when he's sending and receiving data remotely, he exhibits this behavior.

do other androids exhibit this behavior when doing something similar?

not really. clearly the st300 receives the authorization, she barely bats an eye. when markus remotely pays for the paints at the store or calls the police, he doesn't blink like this either. when kara orders parts for the dishwasher the only thing blinking is her LED. so clearly, this is a connor-specific reaction to remote data transmission.

do other androids exhibit this behavior at all?

yes actually! the jb300s connor is interrogating at stratford tower rapidly blink when conducting a diagnostic scan. now, what can we presume from that information? well, a full diagnostic scan is quite an intensive process. for computers, it can take awhile because you're having to parse through all the data on a computer. for something as complex as an android to do it in a few seconds, it would take a massive amount of processing power.

i think the rapid blinking may be a byproduct of androids having their processors overclocking (basically going on overdrive). either it's a sort of glitch/bug that manifests itself when an android is processing a lot of information rapidly or it's a feature cyberlife included as a visual cue for humans to know that the android is in the middle of processing something and unable to respond until whatever it is processing is completed (kinda like a loading screen except the visual cue is the blinking).

according to this assumption, connor would exhibit this behavior when his processors are overclocked. but the thing about connor is that he's supposed to be cyberlife's most advanced prototype, right??? so why is he blinking like crazy over simply receiving and transmitting data that doesn't phase a st300?

it's because he's a prototype.

and as much as cyberlife touts him as being super advanced, i headcanon that cyberlife cut a lot of corners too. how else would they just have 10 bodies of this supposedly expensive android ready to go in case he got destroyed?

i think the r&d put into the rk800s was expensive and his software is super advanced, but his hardware... not so much. sure he's got the fancy mouth sensors for crime scene analysis, but just look at connor. he's clumsy (did you see him tumble through that window?? how badly you can fuck up his qtes???) he's constantly fidgeting with a coin for calibration purposes. basically they have this super advanced cpu but it's being bottlenecked by the rest of his hardware.

so what's that got to do with his blinking?

i just think connor's physical body can't keep up with his processing power so you get weird glitches and artefacts that don't show up in other androids. sometimes that shows up in needing constant calibration of his fine motor skills so he doesn't fuck up during combat. and sometimes it shows up in unnecessary blinking for a rudimentary data transfer. he's not quite at home in his body. it's new and his motor drivers don't move as fast as his processors think. he's out of sync with himself so he's not quite the perfect murderbot he's supposed to be (this is also the reason why i think markus who's lived in his body for so long can kick his ass despite being an older model)

at least that's just my headcanon! i could probably yap all day about stuff like this but i've yapped enough. thanks for the ask! love answering questions like this. apologies it took so long i wrote like 80% of this answer and then i disappeared from tumblr for a bit and forgot this was sitting in my drafts. sorry!

#asks #dbh headcanons #connor #dbh connor #connor rk800 #dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #d:bh

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aerequets · 27 days ago

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what are your thoughts on the use of ai when it comes to art? i never really liked, but a friend of mine views it as a neutral technological advancement (like smartphones) that can be used for different things. they kinda framed it how like originally a lot of people hated digital art bc it wasnt the same as traditional art, but ai has the advantage of allowing disabled artists to create art. i still don't like it bc it puts artists out of jobs, but i cant think of a way around it that would be viable and wouldn't legitimize copyright laws for big corporations.

i just don't understand using ai for art. i think realistically there is no getting rid of ai, it is a part of the future whether you like it or not, but it should be used to supplement your work + make your work life easier so you have time to do the human things... such as making art, music, poetry, writing, whatever. like if you are using ai to make art, saving all that time that goes into learning and making the art, what is that time you saved being spent on? What are you making time for by using ai?

as for the digital art argument, that isn't remotely the same thing because digital art still requires traditional skills. like using a computer will not magically improve your art, you can undo and redo and lasso stuff but it will not make anything that you are not capable of making.

and for the disabled argument. thats bullshit. i can't properly argue why but im sure someone else can. i dont know, it feels like spitting in someone's face to say that they are incapable of making art because they are disabled and that they can only now do so because of ai, but maybe that's just me and my third person perspective.

Anyways this is a very nuanced argument, lots of online discourse around it which I haven't even skimmed if I'm being totally honest, these are just my thoughts point blank. a big issue right now is that AI is this shiny new thing and it's growing so fast while there are no proper laws for it yet, so it's like this no man's land and you have people doing insane things like manipulating people's voices for scams and creating fake adult content. The laws will have to come later, but the sensibility has to come now (or like yesterday).

#ai #ai art #i know this ask was sent to me because i draw comics #but i was still kinda surprised to see it in my inbox lol #dont usually get this type of ask #that being said i cant stomach ever using ai to make my comics even if it would save so much time #like the time that goes into making the comic is part of the fun and experience wdym #asks #dia talks

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 8 months ago

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support needs… expanded! (part 1)

[pt: support needs… expanded! (part 1)]

low/medium/high support needs (& everything in between) get more awareness n talk about here, which great! you may able now remember support needs as amount of support someone need for basic & instrumental activities of daily living (bADLs & iADLs), n more n more of you able explain what bADLs iADLs are. if so, then, congrats, you graduated support needs 101! now, you need take next mandatory class… support needs 201 >:) where we talk about more concepts n expand on old concepts with more nuance.

adaptive functioning skills

[pt: adaptive functioning skills]

this very well known word in intellectual/developmental disability (I/DD) services circle, but think there things people with start-as-adult neurological & cognitive disabilities n people w physical disabilities can borrow too. this a thing talked here a few times briefly, but never know how explain it.

adaptive functioning skills are conceptual, social, & practical skills need for independent daily life. it includes bADLs & iADLs, but also bigger wider than that, n also include skills need for do these ADLs. some examples:

conceptual skills

reading/literacy & writing

understand numbers, money, time

self direction, plan, organize

social skills

listening & understanding others (communication)

talk to & communicate with others (communication)

recognize danger, avoid harm

ask for help

social responsibility, follow rules n laws

practical skills

personal care (bADLs & beyond)

caring for home (iADLs & beyond)

being in community

manage money

& so much more! sometimes skill belong in multiple category, move between category, different people group them differently, but this general idea.

each bullet point can (&often is) broken down to even smaller skills, from most basic skill many people don’t even consider it learned skill (but is! n many I/DD n otherwise disabled people struggle with), to more advanced ones. example:

under personal care > feeding (orally)

open mouth when fed

eat solid food

suck or chew food

feed self with spoon

feed self with fork

(now do those without spilling)

spread soft things like butter n jam with not-sharp knife

cut easy to cut food with knife (e.g. pancakes)

cut hard to cut food with knife (e.g meat)

under listening & understanding

looks at (familiar person) when hear their voice

looks when someone call own name

understand (e.g. at least 3) basic gestures (head nod yes, shake head no, reaching, waving, clapping, etc)

understand at least 10 words

look when other people point

point to (e.g) at least 3 object when asked

follow one step directions. then two related directions. if-then directions. then two unrelated directions. then three step directions. then directions for do something a lil later. then directions for something much much later. etc

pay attention to story for short amount time. pay attention to show for medium amount of time. pay attention to information talk for short amount of time. n understand it. etc

some examples of be in community skills

understand money used to buy thing, clock used to tell time

communicate with familiar people on phone/computer/etc - when other people place the call. n start by self

respect privacy, like use bathroom change clothes, not go through other people stuff

look both ways when cross road

understand symbols for danger, like 🚫, ⚠️, skull n crossbones for poison

follow cross road signs like walk/don’t walk

know how make call in emergency

use money buy small things. big things. use credit debit card. have bank account. have own credit debit card.

keep money n phone save when out

consider price n quality when buy things

travel independently to place been many times before. travel independently to new place.

buy grocery n household stuff when need. pay bill on time.

you see list start with easy, basic-of-the-basic skills. then get more complicated, next skill often depend on n build on previous skills. because it idea from I/DD services n professionals, list tend focus on development & developmental skills, & tend have cognitive focus. but, again, can see these be help for non-I/DD disabilities (& many I/DD people have comorbid physical & neurological disabilities to begin with!).

also because of I/DD focus, may see first few bullet points (or maybe most of the list) as easy, “well duh” skills you not think twice about, skills babies & toddlers learn that have nothing do with teens n adults. because this, you may see adaptive functioning as infantilizing or childish. but, they not infantilizing or childish at all—it reality that I/DD (& other disabilities), it affect babies n toddlers n children, developmentally delayed children who don’t have n struggling with n learning these skills. and, there plenty teens and adults (including older adults) with I/DD, cognitive disabilities, n other disabilities who do not have these skills.

—so, think it really helpful, even much needed, for disability allies & advocates & disabled people (if can) to read through more detail list of adaptive functioning skills. n while do that, remember, there people your age & older than you, who not able do these.

personally find this a lot more helpful than just bADLs & iADLs. because adaptive functioning more accurate include ALL skills need for daily life, from very small to more advanced. it more well rounded, n group in way make sense for own brain. (but that also make idea infinitely harder to explain for my brain for some reason)

next part, want talk about amount of support, & supported independence/modified independence

(edit: part 2 link here)

#adaptive functioning #not exclusive to these but tag bc relevant:#actually autistic #actuallyautistic #high support needs #medium support needs #low support needs #disabled #disability #actually disabled #long post #support needs

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dedalvs · 9 months ago

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When will humankind learn the lesson of its hubris and begin to heal itself? Also can you recommend any undergraduate or graduate level resources (textbooks etc.) for learning about fiction? I already read Writing Fiction by Burroway. Thanks in advance

January 14, 3182. Make a note of the date and return to this post when it comes.

To your second question, I've never read anything on writing fiction, only writing in general. I've found something valuable in every book on writing, even if there were things in the book I found less valuable. For example, I read Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg, and while there was much of it I didn't care for, there are some passags that have stuck with me 22 years later. When it comes to writing guides, I think the best thing to do is read what interests you while understand that what you are really doing is building your own writing guide inside you. You're absorbing what you find personally meaningful and using it to create your own personal styleguide that, like it or not, you'll be following for the rest of your life. Rather than rejecting that, and trying to decide which text will be the text that tells you how to write, embrace it, realize that you are going to do what you're going to do, and then try to work within that framework. That is, if that's what's happening, how will you approach a styleguide? What will it mean to you to read a very didactic text (i.e. "All serious writers must do x; no serious writer every does y") vs. a loosey-goosey one (e.g. "Dance naked in the garden of your creativity and allow your flowers to bloom!")? What are you looking for in these texts and what will you do with information or strategies that you find valuable?

Returning to Writing Down the Bones, I have to say I found the book to be mostly woo. It was more a kind of self-help/empowerment book than a book on writing, in my opinion. But there is something in there that I'm sure I'd heard before but which finally resonated with me. Specifically, it was the way she articulated that it really, truly doesn't matter what you put on the page when you're drafting. Drafting is not the time to reject. Even some idea comes to you that you find absurd, illogical, thematically inappropriate—whatever. It's not the time to push it away. Indeed, it's wasted effort. Editing and revising is the time to question. If you're writing, you shouldn't let anything stop you—even your own brain.

Why it took till then for this idea to take root, I don't know. It could be how she worded it. It could be that it came at the right time. Perhaps I was more open to new ideas when I was reading this book. It may also have something to do with a transition that had taken place for me in writing. After all, when I started high school, I was not regularly using a computer (we'd only just gotten a computer that stayed at home). When I started writing, I wrote by hand—on paper. It's a much, much different thing to edit and revise when you're writing on paper than it is on when you're working on a computer! I mean, digital real estate is cheap. When you're writing by hand, it can literally hurt to write seven or eight pages—and then to discard them in editing! Right now I'm working on a novel draft where I've decided an entire section needs to come out. If I'd written that by hand?! I can't even imagine.

I guess the tl;dr of it is I don't have a specific text to recommend. Rather, I encourage you to look around and grab anything that interests you. In doing so, though, I encourage you to approach it differently, focusing on what in it you find valuable, without either wholly rejecting it or feeling you have to follow it to the letter like an Ikea manual. I even found something valuable in C. S. Lewis's The Abolition of Man, which I honestly can't believe I read.

If you'd like some fiction advice that may be generally useful no matter what you're writing, this is what I can offer:

A valuable skill to hone is being able to read your work as if you have no other knowledge of it. In other words, you need to be able to read your work like a reader. One of the most difficult things to do with fiction is to cut. You usually have a lot more characterization, a lot more plot points, a lot more detail, etc. than end up on the page. The important question is if you cut something, will the reader notice? Will it actually feel like something's miss it, or will a reader never notice? Mind, I'm not saying that as a writer you can't tell if something is superfluous, or that anything you cut will be superfluous. I'm saying sometimes even if you cut something important a reader will still get the impression that what they are reading is whole and unedited. That isn't a good thing or a bad thing: it's a neutral thing. The question you'll have to answer is what is this whole that the reader is getting, and is that whole something you're satisfied with?

Get multiple rounds of feedback from many different readers. I say this not because it's vital, because beta readers are important, because you have to have multiple perspectives on your work, etc. None of that. Getting feedback from many different readers is a form of self-care on the part of the writer. I was deathly afraid of feedback as a young writer. I welcomed praise, sure, but anything else felt too painful to bear. This changed when I took a short fiction class at Berkeley. Suddenly a short story of mine wasn't getting one round of feedback: it was getting fourteen. And not just from the professor, but from fellow students. This was a minor revolution for me in terms of accepting feedback. If I were to take, say, one round of feedback, certainly there would be some praise, but there would also be notes like "awkward phrasing", "why did x character do y?", "this is unclear", "too much description", etc. These things would burn me. I would seethe reading them, and it would hurt so deeply. But! Imagine that one of them circles a paragraph and writes "too much description" and then the other thirteen readers say absolutely nothing at all about that paragraph—maybe one even puts a smiley face next to it. THAT puts the criticism in its proper context. Maybe your writing isn't too bad! Maybe there isn't too much description. Maybe that particular reader just wasn't vibing with it, and maybe that's okay. And then let's look at it from the other perspective. Say thirteen out of fourteen papers have a sentence marked and all of them say things like "huh?", "what's this mean?", "confusing", etc. Guess what? The sentence is probably confusing. And for some reason if everyone's saying the same thing it hurts a lot less. It means, yeah, you probably made a little mistake, and that's okay. It's not one person singling you out, and it's not the case that they don't know what they're talking about. I can't emphasize enough how freeing it is to look at reviews of your work if you have a handful or more to draw from rather than just a single good friend.

It's okay to write the fun part first. You may have a plot device you're really excited about, but to get there, you have to introduce your characters, have them get together, have them go to a place, meet someone else, etc. And it may take time and energy to write all that. You may feel pressured to get through that before you get to the part you really want to write. You certainly can, but you do not have to. I don't know if younger writers can appreciate exactly what it means to have a computer. You can write a little bit now and literally copy and paste it into some other document later. Try doing that with a typewriter! You can write something like "Insert paragraphs later of characters traveling to x location". You can even drop a variable in there so it's easy to find with the search function later (e.g. "ZZZZZ insert scene description here"—now you just need to search for "ZZZZZ"). You can put it in a different color on the screen so it's easy to find when scrolling. You can paste a freaking photo into your document! It's extraordinary what you can do with a computer that you couldn't do in years past. You've got a ton of options. But most importanly, when your work is done, no one will know what order you wrote it in.

In fiction, nothing has to happen. Villains don't have to be punished; heroes don't have to win; characters don't have to have a specific arc that comes to some conclusion. Honestly, one of the tropes (if you can even call it a trope) that I find most frustrating in sequels for movie franchises is after the characters are introduced, they take a few character and assign to them the major story conflict, and then for the rest, they give them a mini arc. It's like, "Mondo 2: Exploding the Mondoverse sees our hero Larjo Biggins take on new villain the Krunge as the very core of the Mondoverse is threatened with destruction! Also, Siddles Nuli learns its okay to be left out sometimes and she shouldn't get her feelings hurt, and Old Mucko learns that even though technology is advancing, sometimes good old fashioned common sense is just what the doctor ordered!" If you get to the end of your story, and you feel it's done, you don't have to panic if you suddenly realize we don't know whether Hupsi ever made it to Bumbus 7. It's okay if Story A is resolved but Story B is not.

I don't care if you used Trope A in your new story even though you used Trope A in your past seven stories and neither should you. Seriously, you think anyone was complaining when Agatha Christie put out another mystery novel? "Oh. Mystery again, huh? Gee, we were all hoping you'd write a book about the struggles traditional fishing villages are facing in the wake of industrial modernization." No we fucking weren't!

I hope you find some of this useful. Whether you did or not, though, be sure you enjoy what you're doing. If you are, you're doing the right thing.

#writing #fiction #agatha christie #c s lewis #natalie goldberg #mcu #seriously #the end of hubris and the beginning of healing #mark your calendars

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gardens-light · 10 months ago

Text

The Intern

With the alliance between the Autobot's and the U.S government straining by the day, clearly something needed to be done to restore faith and trust- despite the classified operations of N.E.S.T successfully defeating the Decepticons over two years ago. Therefore, Major Lennox and his commanding officers created TTF- Transformers Talent Forge. An internship offered to only the most skilled and promising personnel within the U.S Defence Force , providing an opportunity of a lifetime to work side-by-side with N.E.S.T and the Autobots...

Content: Mild Coarse Language. Events takes place in 'Transformers- Revenge of the Fallen.' Autobot/Ratchet x F/Human reader. Reader Insert.

Intern Series- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (End)

Word Count- 3,500K

N.E.S.T- Diego Garcia. 8:30am

"Come on, Private! Keep up!"

"Ye-Yes, sir." Snapping out of your daydream gaze, running after your lieutenant.

Pulling the strap of your military duffle bag a little more over your shoulder. Trying not to stare at the sights and sounds that surrounded you in the hangar, as you followed Lieutenant Smith's footsteps. Roughed up concrete lined the floors, only the unpredictable pattern of tyre marks 'decorated' what once was a smooth surface.

Various military personnel roaming around tables and various stations filled with all sorts of gizmos, gadgets and computer systems lined either side of the hangar. Creating an almost 'catwalk' like feel for the concrete flooring which ran through the middle.

"Alright, so this is where we communicate with the JCS. And this area serves as the Autobots' hangar."

Your curious gaze wandered over the various vehicles which was casually parked on the left side of the hangar.

"The living quarters are to your right. Third door down. But once introduced to our Major, you'll be debriefed further and provided a map- this place is like a maze. I don't know what it's like where you're from Private, but here. Every day's different. So learn quick and learn fast." Lieutenant Smith slowly halted, facing you with a smile. "But don't think you'll be going through this alone. You're among family now-"

"Excuse me!" a commanding tone filled the hangar, drawing your attention to the scaffolding-like structure which stood in the centre of the military space. Lining up perfectly with the concrete 'catwalk.'

"And just like any other family household, we occasionally have our fair share of rodents." Lieutenant Smith whispered into your ear, causing a smile to tease the corner of your lips.

Complete awe flashed across your features, eyes widen as your gaze soaked in the sight before you.

H-Holy shit... that's Optimus Prime!

"With this so-called AllSpark now destroyed, why hasn't the enemy left the planet like you thought they would?" Director Galloway questioned the Autobot. His voice holding a firm tone, as he adjusted his glasses once coming to the landing of the scaffolding-like structure. Which brought him and other military personnel more to Optimus' height.

"Forgive the interruption, General." Galloway's scowl expression faced the monitor before him. Seeming not to care that he was talking directly to the Pentagon, "but after all the damage in Shanghai, the President is... hard-pressed to say the job's getting done. Now... under the classified Alien/Autobot Cooperation Act, you agreed to share your intel with us, but not your advancements in weaponry.-"

"We've witnessed your human capacity for war." Optimus' smooth yet authudicating tone rumbled throughout the hangar, his words almost holding a sharp edge. "It would absolutely bring more harm than good-"

"But who are you to judge what's best for us?-"

"With all due respect, we've been fighting side by side in the field for two years!" A small chuckle came to you, as Major Lennox's familiar tone came to your ears.

"We've shed blood, sweat and precious metal together!" Lieutenant Smith called out.

"Soldier! You're paid to shoot. Not talk."

Lieutenant Smith rolled his eyes at Galloway's snarky comment. His unamused expression turning to you as he whispered, "don't tempt me."

"And the... newest members of your team. I understand they arrived here after you sent a message into space, an open invitation! Come to Earth! Vetted by no one at the White House!-"

"Let me stop you right there, Mr. Galloway. It was vetted right here." A voice from the Pentagon crackled through the monitor. "And in my experience, the judgment of both Major Lennox and his team, has always... been above reproach-"

"Well... be that as it may, General. It is the position of the President when our national security is at stake... no one... is above reproach." Galloway turned his attention back onto Prime. "Now... what do we know so far? We know that the enemy leader, classified NBE One, aka, Megatron. Is rusting in peace at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyssal, surrounded by SOSUS detection nets and a full-time submarine surveillance."

"We also know that the only remaining piece of your alien AllSpark is locked in an electromagnetic vault. Here on one of the most secure naval bases in the world! And since no one can seem to tell me what the enemy is now after, well.. there's only clear conclusion!... You! The Autobots!" Galloway's glare narrowed. "They're here to hunt you!"

You begun to slowly shift your weight from one foot to the other. The smile fading upon your lips as the atmosphere within the hangar begun to grow tense.

"What's there to hunt for on Earth besides that? 'The Fallen shall rise again'?... It sounds to me like something's coming. So... let me ask, if we... ultimately conclude that our national security is best served by denying you further asylum on our planet. Will you leave... peacefully?"

All eyes turned on Optimus. The tension grew thicker. You could almost hear everyone hold their breaths as all hung onto his answer.

"Freedom is your right. If you make that request, we will honor it. But... Before your President decides, please ask him this... What if we leave and you're wrong?"

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Why do I have a feeling that I've came at a bad time?...

Optimus straightened his posture as Lennox ran a hand through his short, brunette hair. "That's a good question-"

"Major! The intern is here!" Lieutenant Smith shouted from the ground. A small smirk teasing his lips, knowing his voice briefly deafened Mr Galloway while he awkwardly climbed the steps down.

"Here... let me take your things." You looked at the lieutenant, holding out his hand. Simply gesturing towards the scaffolding stairs with a slight nod. "You'll be fine."

Taking a couple of deep breaths before handing over your duffle bag, your heart slightly picking up pace as you climbed the stairs. Flashing the soldiers a weak smile, as their curious gazes turned away from their monitors and onto you.

"So, is it every day that the government comes round to bite your asses?" your cocky tone slightly eased the tension in the air. Greeting Lennox with a salute as his soft gaze fell onto you, a relieved smile teasing his lips.

"At ease, Private. No need to be so formal... nah, they don't come by often. But when they do, it's just my ass that gets bitten." A small chuckle left Lennox as he embraced you with a warm, tight hug. "Ah Valkyrie... it's been so long. How you've been? Keeping out of trouble?"

"You know me, Lennox." You looked up at him with a warm smile, slowly breaking away from his embrace. "Trouble just seems to follow wherever I go. Speaking of which... things gotta be bad for you to pull some strings to get my name picked."

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, lowering his voice to just above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "You have no idea." Guiding you a little closer to railings, Lennox cleared his throat and gestured to the Autobot. "Allow me to introduce you to the leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime. Prime... this is Private Y/N, aka 'Valkyrie.' She's the intern I've personally chosen for Ratchet."

Swallowing your nerves, your heart fluttered a little as Prime's stern gaze softened. A welcoming smile spreading across his face plates as his blue optics settled upon you.

"A-A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine." His smooth, calm tone melted your nerves. Causing a sweet smile to tug at your lips, "I've heard a great deal of good things about you from Major Lennox. He said you're quite an experienced medic, and had been... trained specifically for field duty, correct?"

"Correct. I've been serving the U.S military for three years. My experience varies on and off the field."

Optimus nodded in approval, a glimmer of hope flickered within his optics. "Regarding your earlier observation, I won't lie that things have been... difficult here. My medical officer, Ratchet has been... having issues with the interns assigned to him." Exhaustion crept into his words, rubbing his temples. "He's... not exactly impressed with them, and it's gotten your superiors... annoyed to say the least."

Lennox gave you a weak smile, "and... I figured, if anyone could work with Ratchet, despite his... rough edges, it's you. You're one of the best damn medics I've ever fought alongside with! And you know I've seen my fair share of skilled personnel during my career."

Your curious gaze flickered between the two, " so basically... you picked me because the Autobot keeps kicking out his inexperienced interns... how long have they lasted?"

Optimus and Lennox hesitated for moment, giving each other nervous glances before the major finally spoke up. "The longest was a week... the shortest was two hours."

"What?-"

"He's just... very strict with his demands. But you out of anyone would understand how a unit are highly dependent on the medical expertise of their medic!" Lennox gave your shoulder a comforting pat, "you've got what it takes, you've been out there! And to be fair it's not just him. The previous interns were... problematic too- but! I have full faith in you!-"

"Behind Ratchet's gruff exterior and sarcastic tone, lies a soft spark and a bot who genuinely cares for his team." Optimus assured, "you just... need to chip away at his concrete walls. Are you... familiar with Cybertronian biology? Or at least came up close to our kind?"

"Unfortunately... no. But that's why I'm here, to learn and become apart of this team." A small smirk teased the corners of your lips. "But as for getting 'up close' to your kind... does shooting a Decepticon in the face count?"

Optimus coughed out a chuckle, the air almost getting stuck within his vocal processor while Lennox tried to hide his smirk.

"Well... I suppose I should introduce you to Ratchet." Lennox spoke, finally clearing his throat and composing himself.

Optimus simply nodded, giving the pair of you a warm smile as Lennox gently guided you away from the railings and back towards the stairs of the scaffolding.

---

Approaching the neighboring hangar, which was surprisingly on the smaller side than the previous. Lennox paused before opening the medbay doors, giving you a slight glance over his shoulder. "You... might wanna wait out here for a minute. Ratchet... hates surprises."

"He's that bad, huh?" crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

"No. No, it's just..." a heavy sigh left Lennox. "The... 'higher ups' are constantly breathing down my neck and second guessing our whole operation- not just N.E.S.T, but the internship too. Surely you heard Galloways bullshit."

"I did... but I won't add further stress by poking and prodding you for information about what's going on. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Lennox gave you a weak, appreciative smile before entering the medbay, leaving you outside as you subtlety peeked your head around the corner of the large door frame.

"What have you done this time, Ironhide?" the major attempted to keep his casual tone, as his footsteps echoed upon the tire-marked concrete flooring.

"Blasted Decepticon punk got a lucky shot at me!" Ironhide snarled as he man-handled the large cannon that refused to retract back into his forearm. An annoyed expression flashing across Ironhide's face plate while sitting at Ratchet's peds, a small huff escaping him as the medic pushed his servo away.

"That's what you get for being reckless during the mission." Lennox took a deep breath before turning his attention onto the Autobot medic. "Ratchet... I have someone important that I'd like you to meet."

The yellow and red Autobots' annoyed glare briefly flickered towards Lennox, before turning back to Ironhide's arm. "And who, exactly, do I need to meet right now?"

Lennox hesitated for a moment. "Your... new intern..."

Ratchet immedictly paused, his glare narrowing onto the major. "What?! You know I-" a heavy sigh escaped the medic as he stopped himself from arguing. Closing his optics tightly while pinching the bridge of his nose, "... who is it?"

"Private Y/N but she mainly goes by the nickname, 'Valkyrie.' She's a personal friend of mine- we fought alongside together back in my old unit during her first two years of service. You'll like her."

For the love of Primus, please tell me that this some sort of joke. Ratchet's servo ran down his face plate, Lennox's unfaltering expression caused the Autobot to let out a frustrated sigh. Great... another intern to get in my way. Just what I need! "... bring her in then."

Lennox briefly glanced at you over his shoulder, his hand giving a small gesture behind his back.

Taking a deep breath and composing yourself for a moment, before entering the medbay. Greeting both Autobot's with a professional smile, saluting once you reached Lennox's side. "Pleasure to meet you, Medical Officer Ratchet, sir. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Ratchet's skeptic expression slowly melted away, as his optics soaked in your appearance. Your polite yet professional tone made his shoulders relax, your body language and how your military uniform framed your toned and confident physic, grapsed Ratchet's attention. The suttle scars upon your skin was Lennox's proof that you were indeed experienced within the field.

She's certainly not giving me a awkward smile, or hiding behind Lennox. Perhaps... she's not gonna be as bad as the others.

"Likewise... Valkyrie... Welcome."

A low purr emerged from Ironhide's engine, as his optics roamed over your relaxed frame. His voice just above a whisper, "oh... she is a babe- ah!"

Annoyance flashed across Ratchet's optics, his gaze narrowed onto Ironhide as he whacked the weapons' specialist upside upon his helm. The medic's free servo clutched onto Ironhide's forearm tighter than necessary, causing the gun-metal coloured Autobot to wince in pain.

"Anyway..." attempting to ignore your confused expression, Ratchet's attention returned to Ironhide's arm. Picking up one of his tools from a nearby table, and adjusting a bolt within his comrade's inner circuits, "I assume Lennox has debriefed you..."

"Only that I'll be working alongside you. Learning and understanding what it's going to take to patch up you Autobots."

I suppose that's a good starting point. "You're going to be helping me in the medbay, yes. Though for your first day, today I'll just get you to learn basic Cybertronian anatomy. And depending on how the day goes, I might get you to watch how I treat the common injuries we get." Ratchet's optics briefly flickered at you, "and I mean, just watching. Don't try anything unless I say so. I've... had some rather eager interns in the past that didn't know how to stay put."

You gave the Autobot a firm nod, "understood. I know how annoying it can be, when someone's trying to stick their nose into your work."

A small, suttle sigh of relief escaped Lennox as he witnessed Ratchet's expression becoming more... neutral. A genuine smile teased the corners of the medic's lips, his optics softening. Fucking finally...

"Well... I'll leave you two, to it." Lennox whispered, patting you on the back. And giving Ratchet a 'I-told-you-so' smile, before leaving the medbay.

"I believe Lieutenant Smith placed your belongings on a desk over there." Ratchet gestured towards a stainless steel desk, it's 'human size' looked almost like dollhouse furniture, compared to the hologram monitors and workspaces that was more to Ratchet's height. Your duffle bag almost drowned under the piles of folders and paperwork, "apologies for the mess. But... feel free to settle in. Once I'm done with Ironhide, we'll start your training."

You briefly gave him a sweet smile, before approaching the desk which was somewhat tucked neatly away in the corner close to you. Ratchet continued fixing and adjusting the stuck cog within Ironhide's forearm, the gun-metal Autobot wincing as his cannon finally retracted.

"Hm... Perhaps your interns should of been femmes from the start- ah!-"

Ratchet's glare bore into his comrade's optics, a low snarl rumbling in the back his vocal processor. As the medic's grip upon Ironhide's forearm tightened, scratching his paint, "shut. It!"

The weapon's specialist pulled his limb away, but his teasing smirk never leaving his lips. His flirtatious gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before turning away, and finally leaving the medbay.

A heavy sigh left Ratchet as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a moment to compose himself before looking at you, only to raise an optic ridge. Annoyance should of bubbled within his chassis, as his gaze watched you organize the mess upon the human-sized desk. Taking a brief glance into the files, before you placed them in their respected piles.

Instead, curiosity peaked his interest as you seemed become distracted by a particular folder within your hands. Ratchet's spark subtly pulsed a little quicker, as his optics soaked in your focused expression. It was as though he seemed to... admire your interest...

"That folder you have there... might be classified."

"Oh!" quickly snapping the folder shut, surprise slightly flickering across your features as your wide eyes witnessed the medic kneel towards you. The realization of the size difference between you becoming more obvious than before, "sorry. I was... just curious... about Megatron."

"I... understand your curiosity. But those papers relating to Megatron are restricted for a reason." His firm tone matched his body language, holding out a servo towards you.

Only for a mixture of appreciation and surprise flicker within his optics, when your soft gaze looked up at him. A sweet apologetic smile spreading across your lips, as you held out the folder towards him. The object looking comedicly out of place within the palm of his servo. She... didn't argue or protest? Just... accepted the restricted access...

"He seemed like one tough son-of-a-bitch."

A small hint of concern eased into you, as Ratchet's servo curled into a tight fist.

"You... could say that." Ratchet's tone slowly changed back to his gruff demeanor, but his words held a sharp edge. "He was one cruel and sadistic bastard. He and the Decepticons would stoop down to any level! Even if that level is tearing out the still beating spark of their foe!"

Sympathy and concern softened your features. The hidden memories reckoning within his words, tugged upon your heart strings.

"I've... had my fair share of encounters with him. Almost came close to... deactivation more than once because of him."

A small moment of hesitation stole your voice before you could squeak out your question. "De...activation...?"

A heavy sigh escaped Ratchet, as his optics briefly looked away from you. It's probably best if she hears it from me, than the others. "In 'our' terms... it basically means death. I've... came very close to it by Megatron's hands."

Ratchet's spark fluttered as you placed a hand over his closed digits. Your gentle touch sending warmth throughout his frame, causing his shoulders to relax. A stuttle heat slowly spread across his faceplate, as his processors burned your sweet, comforting smile deep into his memory core. Why... does she make me feel... so-

"Badass ice-cream truck coming through!-"

"Excuse me. Excuse me!-"

A small yelp of surprise escaped you, as two playful voices suddenly disturbed the air as a 1930's Chevrolet truck came into view. The pink and white paint almost completely faded away, only to be overtaken by dirt and rust.

The back of your legs pushed up against the stainless steel desk, as you leaned backwards. Confusion washed away your previous expression, as the voice's came from the singular vehicle. Ratchet closed his optics as annoyce begun to bubble back up within him.

"That... would be Skids and Mudflap..." the medic sighed.

Your confused yet curious gaze followed the 1930's ice-cream truck roam around the other side of the medbay hangar, leaving new tire-marks upon the concrete flooring as it circled two Mini Coopers. The red and green colours shining like new, polished metal compared to the truck.

"Hold up-"

"Those are nice. Yeah baby, it's upgrade time-"

"Yeah, sir yeah! Look here, it's my booty call right here!"

You looked at Ratchet with a puzzled expression. Giving the medic a silent question as he rubbed his temples, do they... even know what a 'booty call' is...?

The sound of turning cogs, whirling gears and shifting positions filled the air, making your eyes widen as the truck separated into two small Autobots. Possibly coming to Ratchet's waist if they stood next to his 20ft frame.

"Time to get my sexy on with the green-"

"Green? No, the green's mine! I call green!-"

You quickly reached for Ratchet's servo, your touch barely covering the tip of his digit, as the medic remained knelt beside you like a protective giant. A small gasp escaped your lips as Skids tackled Mudflap to the ground, causing violent vibrations to echo throughout the hangar and beneath your feet. You winced at the sound of metal clashing against metal, as the twins fists collided. Another vibration echoed through floor, like a ripple through water, as Skids grabbed his brother into a headlock, flipping the younger Autobot over his frame and forcing Mudflap onto his back.

"I got the green!-"

"That hurts man!-"

"It's supposed to hurt. It's an ass-kicking!"

Another heavy sigh escaped Ratchet as he tried to compose himself, still rubbing his temples while his free servo still welcomed your soft touch. For Primus sake...

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