Krr

Illustration for ROCK BLEACH MUSICAL.

Source

SUNEATER TAMAKI

a long tf sketchdump i started after watching Transformers One last year, which was great btw! (also Soundwave is one of my faves but he somehow didn't make it into this, RIP my guy 🥺 to be fair, most of these are the beginnings of ideas that don't reach conclusion so -shrug-)

also also, i watched TFA for the first time, and i CANNOT believe they really just squished my boy Blurr into a cube while still alive and left him like that 😤 i know the show got cancelled and they had plans to bring him back, but like, hotdang! SO of course i decided to slap some claustrophobia on that sucker. y'know, as a treat ✨

transcript:

(Chitty Chitty Bang Bang design) -Neutral non-combatant

-Came to Earth early, joined the races

-Lost most of her memories after the Crash

-Forgot to act non-sentient around the family who adopted her

(Wander Over Yonder designs)

Hatertron: UgggHH! That STUPID, orange Autobug, GAH, I could just wring his ne-

Peeperscream: SIR!! FOCUS!

-Wander is a Neutral Autobot sympathizer

-Sylvia is an Autobot, but protective of Wander

-Hater messes up so many plans, Peepers is the only reason Megatron hasn't figured it out

-Peepers admires Starscream's intellect, but avoids him at all costs

(TFA comic)

Rodimus Prime: Uhm, Agent Blurr? ..You good?

Agent Blurr: Rodimus-Prime-sir! There's-nothing-wrong, why-would-anything-be-wrong? This-is-a-party; a-celebration-for-the-Autobots'-GRAND-victory-over-Megatron, which-we're-all-overjoyed-about-so-there's-really-no-reason-to-be-worried-about-the-amount-of-mechs-and-femmes-in-this-room-of-which-there-is-a-perfectly-normal-number-for-a-celebration, and-it's-not-as-if-we've-reached-max-capacity-so-I'm-SURE-the-space-is-NOT-too-small-even-if-the-walls-are-getting-closer-and-closer-and-no-one-seems-to-care-that-it's-too-small-in-here-and-can't-vent-I-can't-I-I-c-I-ca-

Rodimus: Whoa, hey! Ok, ok, let's go outside for a bit, yeah? I'm tired of people asking it I'm “still infected” anyway... Like, obviously. It's Cosmic Rust.

Blurr: ...This-is-humiliating, completely-pathetic-behavior. I-am-a-professionally-trained-intelligence-agent-of-the-Elite-Guard, THEREfore-I-should-not-be-losing-my-composure-whenever-I-enter-a-room. But-I-begin-to-feel-trapped-and-I-I-I-I-can't-...

Rodimus: ..Yeah. Sometimes, I just- freeze. It feels like ice is crawling up my arms and legs and chasiss.. it hurts. I mean, I know it's not happening, but that's how I feel. It sucks. But we made it, we survived. It's still hard, but there's gotta be something to that, right? The effort and struggle is worth it, or whatever.

Blurr: With-all-due-respect, I'm-quite-sure-you-are-terrible-at-this-sir.

Rodimus: Dang. Alright, fine, that's fair. But do you feel better?

Blurr: Marginally, thank-you-Rodimus-Prime.

You can tell his mood by looking at his wings

they're on the way to buy cup noodles

another comfort characters meme

Happy birthday Nejire !!!

I'm so sorry I didn't do you justice with my shit art skills my queen 😔☝️

grimmjow x f!reader - roommates to lovers, established boundary stomping, suggestive flirting. repost from my old blog. wc 974

“Stop using my mug!”

Your voice reverberates down the hallway to where your housemate showers with the door wide open, steam filling the hallway. Grimmjow pretends he can’t hear you as he happily squeezes your shampoo into his palm, fingers massaging it though his blue hair. The smell is comforting, subtly floral, and it reminds him of you. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

“Did you hear me?” You shout through the open door, voice making him jump slightly. You can only tell his reaction by the slight rustle of the curtain and a surprised gasp just loud enough to hear over the steady pounding of water coming from the showerhead.

Grimmjow takes a breath, continuing to scrub at his strands using his fingertips and watching the foam fall down his chest. A deep sniff is the next thing he hears, a sigh accompanying the sound. “Stop using my shampoo!”

Standing in the hallway you can hear him grumble to himself but you cannot make out the words and you groan, stomping off to the kitchen to rinse out your mug that is still half full of whatever concoction Grimmjow decided to make out of various creamers, sugars, and coffee he found in your kitchen this morning. Sticky and syrupy mess plops into the kitchen sink and you gag, perplexed how the roughest man you’ve ever met can drink something so full of sugar it’s barely identifiable.

“Listen,” you hear from behind you and you roll your eyes involuntarily knowing exactly who the voice belongs to. You can also hear the telltale drips of water cascading down to the floor knowing you’ll have big wet footprints to mop up later.

As you turn to face Grimmjow, you’re caged in against the sink between his arms and he leans slightly against your back. The intimacy should make you bristle but it’s part of whatever exists between the four walls of this apartment while the two of you are in it. It’s more than friendship, that’s all you know.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see his wet hair dripping down his bare chest and face, your favorite towel draped around his waist snugly just as you showed him. You scoff, your chin shifting just enough to put him in your line of sight and your eyes flicking up to meet his

“Really?”

He smirks and you try to keep your defenses sound, unwilling to give into him. You feel him place his damp chin against your shoulder and you fight the urge to shrug him off as you see either of his hands brace themselves on the edge of the sink. The closeness is alarming but familiar and you glance down into the sink where his sugary sludge sits, preparing to open your mouth and ask him what the fuck was in that cup, before you hear his voice so close to your ear it makes you shiver.

“Remember what you told me when I first started staying here?”

You recall all too well what you told him with a bright smile when he was still crashing on your couch and not in your bed coiled around you every night.

“What’s mine is yours,” the two of you say in unison. His arms move closer to your body, his weight pressing you against the lip of the sink. You reach around his hands and back into the basin, water running and splashing against the ceramic bottom of your mug.

“I kind of assumed the stuff with my name or initials on it wouldn’t apply to that, though.”

Grimmjow chuckles, plucking the mug out of your hands and putting it down. You feel him nuzzle against the side of your neck and your already thin resistance snaps. Pressing your back into him, his arms naturally come up to rest around your waist. You try to ignore the sick feeling you get at your now dampened clothing.

“You’ve never told me what’s off limits,” he reminds and you nod. He’s right and arguing is futile with the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. Finally, you shrug him off and wrinkle your nose at the wet patch on the shoulder of your t-shirt and you turn to face him. He brushes his still wet hair off of his face and you avert your gaze, trying not to be caught staring at his near perfect form.

“So until then,” he grins and shrugs and you can only imagine what’s coming out of his mouth next. “It’s all for me.”

You giggle and shrug, balling the bottom of your t-shirt between your fists as he readjusts the towel (the one with your name embroidered on it, a gift from your friend) around his hips. Feeling your face grow hot, you look away and turn the water back on, preparing to finish the dishes.

“Go dry off before you get more water on the floor.”

He shrugs and you cringe at the sound of his wet feet slapping against the floor but some things simply aren’t worth the argument you reason. As you turn back toward your task, you hear the footsteps stop near the hallway and you look up, almost suspicious at how fondly the feral man turned flower scented shampoo user looks at you.

“Hey,” he says and you raise your brows in response. “Thanks.”

You nod and smile, gnawing on your lower lip as he turns to head down the hallway, giving you a near perfect view of his back. Ogling silently, you laugh at yourself and the ludicrous situation you’ve found.

You then make a mental note to get him a mug with his initial to match yours.

La la drew the reunion before the separation