I considered drawing a single frame of the three of them on a run together for about 0.3 seconds before this comic came knocking

Sitting at a desk for a good portion of the day did not do much to help Robert's already terrible posture and propensity to have loud popping joints. He did what he could to mitigate any discomfort with some light stretching in-between shifts, workouts, and that one time he went to the chiropractor like 3 years ago, but today was worse than normal.

It was probably the weather's fault, as he usually felt extra stiff and like he needed to pop his joints more when the weather got cooler or when it was rainy. He didn't think it was that audible, but a few times during the first half of the day, comments were made about 'whoever is eating pop rocks into their fucking mic needs to stop'. It wasn't until the really big pop that Robert realized that maybe it wasn't quite so normal to pop this much.

It started as a slight pressure building at the base of his skull and to the right. This wasn't too unusual since he wore headphones as a part of his job and they would often cause some sort of discomfort in his neck. When it finally became too much to just let sit, Robert very casually moved his neck around until it popped.

Silence on the coms.

"Who the fuck just died?!" Prism was the first to speak up.

"For real though. It sounded like someone just broke their neck. Everyone, like..okay?" Invisigal spoke next.

"No one is dead. That was me," Robert sighed.

"Bitch, you dead?!"

"The fuck man."

"That sounded really bad."

Robert let out a sigh. "I'm fine. Just popped my neck. Can we get back to..."

He was cut off by several Z-Team members expressing their disgust and dismay.

"Listen, Bobert. I know a great place to get a massage," Sonar started.

"Knowing you, there's definitely a happy ending," Malevola snickered over the mic.

"Only if you pay extra! Anyways, Roberto, dude, that's not healthy."

"You sure he's not dead?"

Well if your offering a reward I suppose I simply must prompt you to continue my agenda: Kesett :)

Thank you so much for your donation! Sorry I broke my own ask box; thanks for letting me know. If you tried to send me an ask, it may not have gone through, but I fixed the problem, so please send it again. (If anyone else wants information or to donate, click here)

Enjoy some silly Kesett, set in our BCDEU during the Rebellion years:

--- "Oh shit," Ori, Cal's partner hissed, scrambling back from the edge of the roof they were staked out on and dropping his binocs with a clatter.

"What?" Cal asked, grabbing the binocs and starting to crawl to the edge to take a look himself, only to be stopped short by Ori's hand on his shoulder.

"Stop! He'll see us!"

Very interesting choice! From this list~

.

There was nothing but pain and pain and pain and whirling chaos and blood rushing in his ears and broken bones and pain and pain and oh Daimyo, the pain!

Time seemed to stretch on forever. Time had no meaning. Everything was nauseating pain and an inability to do anything but flow through the haze of pain and time -

Ue was on his hands and knees, dry heaving in between panting struggles to breathe. He wasn't aware of his surroundings, but time suddenly felt so heavy and permanent and still.

"Such a pathetic child. Get up!"

Drako dealt with this problem as he dealt with most problems: get angry at it. And the current problem was confusion at what was going on and why he couldn't seem to regain control of his limbs after he had exited the portal. What he did know was that Ue was there, and Ue was a convenient target for the multitudes of frustrations tangled in his mind.

"Never...anything...useful...to say," Ue struggled out. Why couldn't that blasted portal have spit him and Drako out to different places? Drako, who'd seemed like a useful tool until he'd stood in the way of his revenge, was the last being Ue wanted to hear or see right now.

"Only because you never do anything useful," Drako snarled. He'd played patient in his bid for the staff, and this charlatan child had destroyed it all with his reckless impatience and desperation. He was done playing nice. He'd gladly break every bone in the boy's body if only he could get his body to respond to any command.

Ue was slowly regaining some composure. His breath was coming back now that the dry heaving was slowing. The pain still persisted everywhere but with Drako to direct his rage at, he could cope. "You are not in charge of -" Ue started angrily before composure crumbled and he began dry heaving again.

Euck, ugh - Drako attempted to dissect Ue while he was vomiting but...he was vomiting? Had he ever regurgitated before? It wasn't common for his species; it usually spelled out death. It was absolutely vile. His stomach cramped, his throat burned, his mind seized. What had that portal done to him?

Harsh breathing echoed slightly in the surroundings, quiet now as Ue and Drako puzzled things out instead of sniped at each other.

Ue looked down at his hands - or tried to. When had they gotten so far away from him?

Drako looked back at his hands. Oh... Oh no. That... simply couldn't be.

The Ue-Drako creature let loose a horrendous screeching noise.

Ue batted at his body, trying to rid it of the scales and wings and claws -

Drako flapped his wings and stomped his legs, trying to take flight away from this horrid humanoid -

Ue felt wings beating, a strange and foreign sensation, but unmistakably his own -

Drako growled, unable to control half his limbs, for half his limbs were no longer his own -

"Vile - fault - reckless - controlling - I'll - beat - rip - right - apart!" Ue-Drako tried to shout at each other, garbled as they wrestled for control. The struggle brought them to their knees, panting once again.

This is your fault, you horrid beast! I will kill you for this - this dishonor!

"My fault!" the creature laughed. "Oh, please explain how this is all my fault!"

You intervened in my revenge scheme! If you had just...

And Ue-Drako stilled, realizing what was happening. Realizing only half the conversation had been communicated out loud.

Feckless weakling. Now you invade my mind, as well?

Thoughts raced and swirled, competing for attention, and a headache roared to life in Ue-Drako, bringing them to one solidifying, unifying thought.

I cannot be stuck with you.

Ue-Drako attemped to run away from itself again. Limbs criss-crossed, and Ue-Drako thudded to the ground. For a single body cannot run away from itself. The creature's eyes closed in exhaustion and despair.

It was the new start to a very difficult partnership of two creatures become one that had never been working together in the first place. This was going to take a long, long time for them to figure out.

When cops start drinking, they start telling stories. And not just any stories - they always either have to be disgusting, making fun of someone in the room, or a combination of the two.

Brian and Jim were no different. And when there were women around, they absolutely tried to slay each other's reputations.

Jim's flavor of the month was sitting directly across from Brian, and she seemed to be a special kind of woman, the kind who thought image was everything.

"So, Tiffany…" Brian had just finished his 3rd drink and was ready to start trying to end this date. "Has Jimbo ever told you about his love for gas station burritos?"

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Brian." Tabby laughed, leaning in against his side and smacking his arm playfully. "She does NOT want to hear that story."

"I think she does." He grinned at his wife, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

The woman seemed semi-amused, but wary of whatever they were talking about.

"No, no, no." Jim countered, "I think she wants to hear about the time you bruised your junk."

"That did not happen." Brian laughed loudly.

"Babe!" Tabby could hardly choke out the word, "That definitely happened. I remember this one!" She had actual tears in her eyes from laughing.

"How do you remember it? It was before I met you." Brian replied with an incredulous look on his face.

"So it DID happen." Tabby laughed gleefully. "TELL US, JIM!" She was enjoying seeing the tables get turned on Brian for once.

"It was actually one of our first days on patrol together." Jim took a sip from his beer. "We got a call out for a domestic and we went code 3 and hauled ass over to it."

"Code 3 is lights and siren on", Tabby translated helpfully for Tiffany, who nodded her thanks.

"One of the first things I learned is that your seatbelt should be off as soon as you get to the scene. Because you don't want to have to pause and possibly get stuck in your car if someone's shooting." Jim grinned in Brian's direction. "Ranger boy here forgot to unbuckle and tried to leave the car at about mach 10." The laughing started before he'd finished his sentence.

Tabby was freely crying with laughter, but tried to pat his arm in a sympathetic manner. "Did it actually leave a bruise?"

Brian scrunched his face slightly, but let out a laugh. "Yes. Roughly the shape and size of the seatbelt buckle. I got a lot of sympathy for it." He grinned.

i hope you feel better soon <3

Hair

Thank you, anon! I'm almost back on my feet, but this ask didn't let me go!

Content: BBU recovery

There was a knock at Marta's door, so light and quiet that she would have dismissed if she hadn't heard the soft shuffle of feet moving away.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and opened the door.

"Noor?"

He immediately turned to face her, gaze dropping to the floor.

"I'm… I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mis-…, Marta. I'm sorry, Marta. I'm... It was nothing."

She stifled a yawn and leaned to the door frame, shaking her head. "It's fine. You can come to me about little things, too, Noor, you know."

"But... But you are tired, and... and you need to deal with important things."

"I do." Marta gave a half shrug and smiled. "Like you. You are important to me. What is it?"

"I... You... You said I should come and ask if I ever..., if I needed something."

"I did." Marta nodded. "What is it?"

It was rather early, she thought to herself. They compared notes sometimes, in their own group and with other safehouse workers. Sometimes, when times where light enough to be easy going about it, Marta imagined them like young parents, trying to figure out what it meant that their kids took certain steps earlier or later than others. Sleep a full night alone. Lock the door behind them. Say no. Pick their own clothes.

Formulate a need or want.

"I... I need a hairdresser."

It was never what you expected.

"Okay," she said and gave him a reassuring smile. "Sure. It's... I might need to ask around a little, because of our situation. But I'll find one who can come here and take care of you. Is there anything in particular bothering you? Something we could start with?"

He looked at her, a little nervous, soft crease between his brows, and she asked herself how much of this insecurity had been there before, how of it much they had given him.

"It... It's meant to be shiny," he explained. "Shiny and soft, and just a little bit tousled, for that freshly fucked look."

She bit her tongue. Yeah. That definitely was courtesey of WRU.

"Mh-hm." Respecting his wishes, that was the thing that mattered. "It's important that you feel good in your own body." She stressed the you, maybe a little bit too much, but his face lit up with relief.

"Thank you, M... Marta." He set to turn around.

"Wait, Noor? Give me a second." She stepped into her bathroom, rummaged through the cabinet until she found what she was looking for and emerged again. "My... My mother in law, she's a weird woman, but very stylish, and very cultivated. Anyway - she wants me to keep good care of my hair and she gave me this." She handed him a bottle of conditioner. "If you like the smell, you can have it. I never used it. I'm sure it's very good. For long and thick hair, it says. Could be what you need. I'll still find you a hairdresser, of course. This is just... a first step, in a way."

Noor took the bottle very carefully, almost suspicious, his eyes flitting between it and her face. He held her gaze, while he smelled at it.

"Yes." The soft smile that spread on his lips was heartwarming. "I... I would like to use this."

"Do you know how to -" She paused. No. This wasn't actually what she meant, or what he needed. There was something else.

It wasn't like she had to be anywhere else, now or in the morning. She could be there for him.

She smiled back at him, before she started again. "If you'd accept it, Noor, I could wash your hair. With Shampoo, and conditioner, and I even think I have a hair mask somewhere."

Noor's eyes widened in disbelief. He clutched the bottle close to his chest, struggling for words. "But, you are... you are a person, Marta, and I'm... I... Do you want me to wash your hair? I could -" Something shifted in him, his posture, his voice, the tilt of his head, everything falling back into the shape he'd been looked into. "I could spoil you, until you forget -"

"Noor," Marta interrupted him gently. "Yes, I'm a person. And you're a person, too. A person, whom I care for. I'm very happy with my hair right now. You aren't so happy with yours. And I would like to be there for you, as a friend."

"Pets don't -"

Marta raised an eyebrow and Noor stopped, just silently looked at her with huge eyes.

"Person to person. Marta to Noor. Do you like getting your hair washed? I promise, I can be gentle."

"Yes," he said and swallowed thickly. "I... I like it very much."

"May I do it, then?"

He nodded. "Yes."

A/N: poe dameron x gn!reader. emotional hurt/comfort. grief. snuggles. aftermath of a shutdown.

You don't really know what set it off. All you know is that halfway through lunch at the mess hall, you'd gotten to your feet and rushed back to your room, feeling a little bit like you were either going to puke or cry if people kept looking at you and trying to talk to you.

It was not a people day. As much as you loved (mostly) everyone in the Resistance, you wished they'd understand that more.

The hero waited. There had been a prophecy, once. But the Dark Lady had died before the final battle and he alone could hold the axe known as Starbreak. With it in hand, he had cut the sun in twain to banish the ever darkness and save the world.

That has been eight hundred years ago, the power of the axe sustaining him against age, against harm, against the weal and woe of the world. He had hunted monsters: all had fled from the power he carried and could not release. Then the boy arrived. The boy had a grin the suns were dimmed by, and came with a cat that was perhaps not quite a cat (but this was true of all cats).

"Hi," he said jaysomely. "I have snacks!"

The hero sighed. Many had come to him, seeking to see the blade used.

But this time, the blade did not wish to swing. It shied away from the boy, and the hero felt something so alien he did not know the name for it.

"Do you want an axe?" the hero asked.

"I bet Muffin wants one for axeing questions!"

The cat meows, perhaps resigned.

The boy takes the axe, without issue, unaware as Starbreak attempts to shatter his form and will.

"It is really ticklish and fun!" And the hero is hugged, and left utterly baffled as the boy vanishes.

The cat watches the hero.

"I don't understand," the hero whispered.

"Jaysome is beyond curses, blessings and destinies," the cat said, almost kindly. "Do nothing unjaysome with the gift."

The hero gulped and nodded. Stared up at the sky that seemed free for the first time in so long.