#bimgle

~ Love Is Love ~

A 2023 L.G.B.T+ Aesthetic Collection

Day 10 • Bim Trimmer is Gay!

Day 9 • Day 11

👇🏽 Pride Headcanons Below! 👇🏽

i thought this was funny honestly and this is helping me get back into somewhat colored things so:

Tags: @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @demon-dark-666 @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @rabbitsartcorner @tried-my-best @endangered-cryptid @swag-droid @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle

Prompt 4/20: “Can I listen to your heart?” / “What does my heart sound like?”

“I strongly advise you go to the doctor.” Blue said this as he applied antibiotic ointment to the burns on Bim’s hands. He said it without looking up. Without making eye contact. He didn’t need to make eye contact to know Bim was avoiding his gaze, training it instead on his ruined hands, which were faintly shaking. He seemed moments away from passing out, right there in his armchair.

Bim scoffed. “I’ll be fine. It’ll heal. I needed a little help, that’s all.”

Blue eyed the third-degree burns wrapping around Bim’s hands and wrists; what skin was left was shiny and inflamed, while the wounds themselves oozed hot, raw pain. They were already healing, and there likely wouldn’t even be a scar to mottle his pretty hands; the benefit of being a bit to the left of human.

Still, he continued tending to the burns. Bim watched him in silence. A slight pink tinging his cheeks and nose. Blue’s scans told him it was likely from the blast of heat that came from having an object spontaneously combust in his hands.

“I must listen to your heart,” he said, after some time, “and analyze the damage done by smoke inhalation.”

He held out one hand, and Bim obediently presented his neck, tilting his chin up and to the side so Blue could press two fingers there, using his medical software-- he didn’t have much, but the company who’d made him had been thorough in his design and wanted him to be able to serve in all capacities-- to measure the show host’s heartbeat and blood pressure. His vitals and other biological statistics flickered in front of his vision, as well as his hormone levels from the blood still staining his fingertips.

“What does my heartbeat sound like?” Bim asked as the android studied the data, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a hard line.

“Elevated, though this is expected.” Came the response. “Your levels of oxytocin and serotonin are higher than average, not something typically associated with third-degree burns, even though they are healing supernaturally quickly.”

He glanced at Bim, who immediately flushed a deeper shade of red and averted his gaze.

Ah. It clicked suddenly. Blue immediately withdrew, noting the subtle shift toward disappointment in Bim’s expression.

“You possess-” he started, right as Bim blurted, “Go on a date with me?”

“No.” Blue said it hard. Firm. Harsh. He got up, retreating toward the door. His feet sunk into the carpet and his fans whirred far too loud, forcing out particles of air that, in his distress, he found himself analyzing.

Oxygen. Nitrogen. Carbon. Dust and skin flakes. Things he didn’t need to consume or even notice because he wasn’t human and he did not feel as they did.