#'I say the black box is just some weird cube that got exposed to the bifrost because it was on the train'

[hydrophilicdaisy]

So, about the black box in The Bifrost Incident

I keep reading fic that includes the black box and describes it as like. a literal black box. which. is fine, and honestly I can't say much, since until a couple weeks ago I also pictured it like that, but now I know, so: fun fact! there's an actual thing in planes called a black box that records flight data.

there are usually two in a plane, one in the front that records cockpit audio and radio signals and one in the back that records things about the actual flight (airspeed, altitude, heading, etc). they're used to investigate plane crashes and other incidents

now do I think all descriptions/renditions of the blackbox should make it look like this?

yes, actually. get to it /j

[yamithediaperdork]

Rewarded as a bully deserves (HunterXhunter)

Killua was in a rotten mode as he headed for the closet park in town, huffing and growling over him and Gon having a fight.

It was just so stupid! Here he was, a deadly assassin and for the 6th time this month they'd woken up in a bed drenched with pee. Lord knows Gon was trying to be kind and supportive but really, who could blame him for getting tired of waking up soaked?

Gon wanted Killua to start wearing 'protection' at night to bed, but the deadliest bed wetter alive refused to go that far, he had already comprised and let Gon put rubber sheets on the bed so hotel staffs stopped giving them a hard time hadn't he?

In any case they had taken a shower and gotten dressed, and Gon asked Killua to go for a walk by himself and think about what he had said.

'Screw that nonsense.. I'm go and cheer myself up the best way I know how!' Killua thought as he came to the playground area of the park. Nothing lifted his spirits like a little bit of harmless bullying.

Scanning the play area Killua spotted a good first target. a 5-6 year old with dark tanned skin and a black brush cut was digging away in the sandbox, making a moat around a sad looking sand castle he'd made with one hand, while licking away on a mint chocolate ice cream cone with the other.

spotting a plastic bucket with some water in it for the moat, Killua smirked and strolled over.

"Nice fort little guy." He said sarcastically, getting the boys attention and the kid gave him a smile.

"thanks! I was working on it for like ever!" The little guy said, apparently not recognizing the tone.

"Heh, Would be a shame if something happened to it though." Killua chuckled. "you did get house insurance against giants right?"

"Uhhh what?"

"well what if some big mean old giant.." Killua started, stepping into the sand box now. "Just came up..and did THIS!" Killua asked and stomped his foot down on top of the fort, snickering as the little guys eyes went wide.

"HEY! WHY'D YA DO THAT?!?" the little guy yelled, starting to stand up and with tears welling in his eyes.

"Because i'm better, stronger and therefore better then you. Little dorks have to get put in their place." Killua sneer and then grabbed the arm holding the ice cream cone and make the kid smuch it onto his hair. "Geez you little dorks are SUCH messy eaters!"

The boy squealed as the sudden cold on his head and how icky it felt.

"S-Stop this! I-I" the boy tried to make his threat clear but he was also trying not to full on bawl.

"heyyy don't worry about it, I'll help you clear up!" Killua laughed, then snatched up the bucket with the water in it and dumped it on the boys head, then tugged it down over the kids eyes.

"Hey, that's a good look for you, but it's missing something." Killua said and sneered, then turned the boy around and tugged back the kid's short then tanked up on the poor little guys briefs.

"Awww, a fan of sailor moon I see!" Killua teased and hooked the back of the briefs on the back of the bucket, then booted the kid in the ass, sending him sprawling out of the sand pit.

"Alright, I had my fun, get the fuck out of here before I decide to be mean." Killua said cheerfully.

the thought that all of this had been Killua being nice light a fire under the boy's butt, and he ran/crawled off, not even trying to remove the helmet or pick the wedgie out of his butt.

"well, I feel better already." Killua commented to himself, though he noticed a few other kids and adults glaring at him.

"Oh by all means, anyone who wants to try and punish me.. " Killua said, going from a happy goofy look to his slash smile. "Step up."

no one did.

After scaring two more little guys into give him all their ice cream money Killua was in the middle of getting a cone (Double chocolate mint just like the dork had had, it had looked good after all) when he heard a familiar voice.

"That's him Carlo! that's the bully!" cried the dork from before.

Turning around slowly Killua smirked, Carlo was clearly the dork's big brother, and while he was a little bit taller then Killua he had a slim build and the same tanned skin, though his hair was a bit longer while still being short.

"Ok mister, I'm going to give you ONE chance to say sorry to my little brother, and get him a replacement cone. If you don't.." Carlo said, crossing his eyes and glaring at Killua with a death glare.

Killua, who gave those out with ease froze for a tiny fraction of a second, and his bladder twitched, but he shook it off and took a long lick of his ice cream to show he wasn't scared, and to give him time to regain his composure.

"What? If i don't you'll do -what?-" Killua asked. "Try and fight me and end up hanging from the teeth ball pole by your undies? I mean, I'm mostly in a good mood now but if it's a ass kicking you want." Killua sneered.

Carlo rolled his eyes, then smirked.

"You know..I've been in a bit of a funk lately, and beating up bullies always makes me free better.. so thanks." He said.

Killua raised a eyebrow to thank but before he could react, Carlo was right next to him, and much like Killua had done before, taken a gripe on the arm with the ice cream cone.

On small difference though, Carlo wasn't going to make him put it in his hair and had tugged open the front of Killua's shorts and undies.

"W-Wait d-don't!" Killua shrieked, his plea fell on deaf ears though and he was somehow powerless to over come the taller boy power.

As such, a high pitch wail was heard as Killua's twig and berries got a double mint chocolate coating.

Killua's eyes crossed and a cartoonish image flashed in his mind as it felt like his private had just been transformed into two ice cubes and a Icicle, then there was sudden relief and warmth, making him stick his tongue out the side of his mouth in blessed relief.. at least until he noticed the warmth was traveling down his legs.

"heh, Carlo the bully wet himself!" The little guy pointed out, snickering and getting out his phone to take pictures.

"I can see that buddy, Aww, did the cold cold ice cream make da big bad bully go wee wee?" Carlo asked, folding his arms over his chest and baby talking to Killua.

"i..I uh.." Killua stammered, Sure, he was no stranger to soaking his pants at NIGHT while he was asleep, but this was a new one for him! "I..didn't go tinkle?" He finished lamely.

"Rightt then whats that making a puddle on the ground right now and staining your shorts." Carlo asked.

"..I don't have to answer that! In fact, I've had enough of false accusation's and I'm leaveing!" Killua huffed and turned around to do just that, but also exposed his back to his new found enemy.

Carlo, knowing that Killua had wedgie his little brother Hector, moved in and with on hand tugging Killua's shorts back the other grabbed the waist brand of Killua's Barney briefs and lifted up before the poor hunter even had a chance to fight back.

Killua's mouth opened as if he was screaming, and while dogs howled in pain no one with human ears could of heard the noise coming from his mouth, it was that high pitched.

Carlo smirked at the response and said "Awww, Barney briefs? that's just soo..fitting! But I wonder how strong they are?" then adding his other hand to the back of the waist band even as Killua looked over his shoulder and shook his head no, bringing his hands together pleading, Yanked the soon to be ex-hunter off the ground by a good 2 inches if now more and dangled him there as Killua turned pale and went blank eyed.

"Oh wow, those must be reinforced Carlo!" Hector marveled, recording this all for YouTube.

"I know, kinda a shame, if they weren't they'd of snapped by now and he'd know SOME relief." Carlo chuckled then turned him and Killua better into frame for the camera.

"hi I'm Carlo and this is a big bully who tried to pick on my little brother..Huh, never caught his name.. Hey wedgie boy, whats your name?" Carlo asked and holding Killua up with just one arm delivered a hard swat to Killua's buns, which also ended up making his shorts slide down around his ankles showing off his pee stained undies.

"A-AH! M-Mah name is Killua Zoldyck and I'm super super sowwy! Pwease stop!" Killua begged and pleaded, in a voice that sounded like he'd sucked on some helium.

"I dunno Hector, what do YOU think? Has Killua had enough?" Carlo asked, and Killua shot the boy he'd bullied a pleading look, bottom lip trembling and tears welling up.

"Hmmm you know I really think..that you should use him like a yo-yo till his undies snap. THEN I'll forgive him!" Hector giggled.

With both hands on the waist band Carlo went to work even as Killua started to blubber and cry for his mommy.

It ended up taking a record breaking 55 bounces before Killua's undies snapped, and by that time Killua had gone to la-la. with his undies snapped and ripped off off he was too out of it to notice that he was currently face down butt up with nothing covering his der rear and his bubble butt and little package showing.

"oh man.. that explains why he was in such a bad mood.." Hector giggled, having turned off the camera for now but uploading the video. (after all, even with a member as small of Killua's the mods on YouTube would of removed the video)

"man, makes me feel like I picked on a over sized toddler. feeling a little guilty." Carlo said, though in truth he wasn't really.

Killua's shorts were gone by this point as the boys who's ice cream money he had stolen had retrieved them, and after finding some of the cash and taking Killua's wallet, had tossed them in a bin meant for dog waste.

"Well, nothing we can do now, we don't have any spare pants for him." Hector pointed out.

"Well not quite..remember that weird vendor we passed on the way in?" Carlo said, digging into his pocket and pulling out some bill's.

"Heh.. you don't mean.." Hector asked.

"A yup. be a good boy and run and get widdle Killua something to wear." Carlo said, handing the money over and keeping a eye on 'sleeping beauty' while Hector ran off.

Killua was having a wonderful dream about having a endless buffet of candy and chocolates and it was so nice after what must of been a nightmare where he was tormented and bullied beyond belief.

He was slowly waking up and rolling over to sit up and rubbing his eyes. "Nggggh Heyyy Gon, you wouldn't believe the night..mare..I.." Killua started to say then opened his eyes, seeing Carlo and a semi crowd all around.

"Welcome back to the land of the living tiny!" Carlo said.

Killua huffed at that and stood up, about to tell Carlo off, he wasn't THAT much shorter when a breeze blew and he noticed how much he felt it on his on buns.

Looking down his face went crimson and Killua grabbed at his shirt and tugged it down, trying to cover up his privates.

"W-WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY UNDIES? MY SHORTS?!" Killua yelled, getting roars of laughter from the crowd.

"Well your undies were totally wreaked so we tossed them." Carlo said, nodding over to a waste bin for normal trash. "As for your shorts, there was a couple of boys you really seemed to annoy earlier and after getting back they're ice cream money with interest, they tossed them in the dogie waste bin..I doubt you'll want them back."

"but..but.. I can't go around with my ding dong on display!" Killua whined and whimpered.

"That's true. don't worry, I already thought of that shrimp." Carlo said and nodded behind Killua.

Killua turned to look and there was Hector, the brat he wished he'd never of picked on, running back with a pack of...DIAPERS!?

Killua whimpered loudly, a spurt of pee coming out and soaking the bottom of his shirt as he turned back to Carlo with pleading eyes.

"Please no! anything but diapers!" Killua whimpered. "I'm not a baby!"

"heh, Are you SURE about that?" Carlo asked, looking down and making Killua's gaze follow to the damp spot on Killua's t-shirt.

"i..but..that was because.." Killua mewed then shrieked and jumped, grabbing at his bun's as Hector came in range and walloped Killua's baby butt.

Ironically when he came down he landed in Carlo's waiting arms, like a blushing bride.

"Awww how cute, but you really think I'm gonna save you?" Carlo asked, then dropped Killua onto the hard ground and onto his tender buns.

"S-Stop being s-so mean to me!" Killua whined, on the verge of anther crying fit.

"Sheesh, I should of gotten him a paci." Hector said, handing the pack of diapers over to Carlo then tugging the shirt up and off of Killua, using it as a tear rag then tossing it out.

"Oh wow, Lookie here Killua~" Carlo said, reading the pack then holding it in front of Killua's face then read from the back. " 'New little poopers punishment diapers are perfect for your so called big kid who refuses to use the potty! extra thick to ensure they waddle, it comes with a embarrassingly babyish nursery print we promise to have your little stinker blushing bright red. with a special stink guard you and the big baby won't have to deal with their stink!' Heh wow, Oh look, they offer alt versions, that's something to keep in mind if you need more lessons."

Killua meanwhile was looking at the front of the package, showing sobbing pre teens in the bulky diapers and smirking parents.

"I-I changed my mind! I'll go home naked!" Killua whined.

"Nonsense! what kind of person would I be if I let you go without the diaper you CLEARLY need!" Carlo said, as if he was doing Killua a favor. "This is gonna go down one of two ways loser. You can either lay back and suck your thumb while I put as many of these as I can on you, or I can kick your ass, knock you senseless..then put as many of these as I can on you. Either way, you're going back to diapers. YOUR choice."

Killua pouted, started to ball a fist up.. then sighed and laid back, popping his thumb in his mouth and turning away from the crowd as laughter and taunts rang out.

"Loser!"

"Big baby!"

"Wuss!"

Carlo was a little disappointed that Killua decided not to fight back, but he had to admit seeing the wanna be bully accepting his big baby fate was kinda cute.

ripping the back open open Carlo smirked, dispute being the size of a pack that should be able to hold 16 diapers, there was only 6 of them in the pack and he pulled on of the massive things out, making sure everyone could see all the rattles and paci's and teddy bears and the like all over the diaper then unfolded it.

"Ok Shrimp, Butt up! If i have to lift you up I'm giving your buns a swat!" He said and wasn't shocked when Killua's butt almost levitated up in a instant to avoid any more punishment. "good boy!"

getting the almost pillow like diaper under the loser's butt, he gently pushed Killua's butt back down and smirked as Killua loudly sucked on his thumb, getting drool going down his chin as Carlo pulled the front up nice and snug and then taped it up.

"Welcome back to babyhood Shrimp." Hector said, leaning down and snickering, and making Carlo beam with pride.

In the end they only manged to double diaper Killua, the diapers were just too massive and they ripped a third one trying to get it on the babfied brat.

After he was all nice and snug in his diapers Carlo told Killua to try and get up and to Killua's massive shame, not only could he NOT get up on his own, but he couldn't even get close to bringing his knees together.

The fourth time he just plopped down on his butt trying to get up, Carlo rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"-sigh- Ok Shrimp, let me help you." Carlo said as if he was doing Killua a favor.

Holding out his hands Killua took them and got yanked up to his feet, legs wobbling as he tried to center his balance.

"heh, you might need a bit to get used to waddling in there. Try waddling over to that tree over there." Carlo said, pointing to a tree that would of only been 10 seconds away normally, but with this massive bulk taped around his hips it might as well been a mile away.

Still, Killua knew better then to argue at this point and took a wobbly step, then anther, and smirked, thinking he was getting the hand of it.

'I got this! I can-' He was thinking when his fourth step went wrong and with a loud yelp Killua plopped on his butt, a shocked look on his face but not hurt considering the thick padding under his butt.

"Awww, widdle baby Killua doesn't know how to walk!" Hector giggled, getting more laughter from the crowd.

"yeah, guess you better stick to crawling shrimp..you CAN at least do THAT can't you?" Carlo asked, tilting his head and smirking.

Killua huffed, he wanted to try and walk again but knew he wasn't getting any help and there just wasn't anything to help him get up to his feet with around. He toyed with getting in the crawling position and pushing himself up THAT way but had a feeling while he'd be in the middle of it Carlo would just smack his butt and send him face first into the dirt.

getting on all fours and trying to drown out the snickers and flashes of camera phones going off, Killua rolled around and got on all fours and then slowly crawled over towards the tree, glad that he had been right that he could crawl at least.

'at least i didn't have to do a diaper scoot across the ground, knowing my luck it would of ripped apart the diaper and I'd of gotten a spanking.' Killua thought with a sulk as he reached the tree.

"Well well, at least you can crawl, I was worried I was gonna have to carry you over." Carlo snickered. "Now use the true shrimp and get to your feet, and shake that diapered ass and sing us a song about what a big dumb baby you are and how happy you are to be back in diapers."

"..Your joking right?" Killua asked, jaw dropping. "There is NO WAY in hell I'm gonna d-" he started started to say but Carlo cracked the knuckles on his right fist and and light tapped his fist into his open left hand.

"You SURE about that?" Carlo asked.

"..W-what If I can't think of any lyrics because I'm a big dumb baby?" Killua squeaked out, flooding his pampers.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. It's ok if your dumb is lame though, your just a diaper baby shrimp." Carlo said.

Grunting with effort, Killua pulled himself to his feet, hands braced on the three and looked over his shoulder, the crowd was watching with delight and he trying to think of something, anything to sing.

"I...I'm big baby Killua and I'm so happy.." he started, wiggling his diaper, shutting his eyes.

"Because a big strong boy put me in a nappy!

Diapers are totally wear I belong!

so I hope all of you love my big dumb baby song!

I thought I was a bully but I'm just a dweeb

filling my diapers up with pee pee

If i ask for undies look at me like I'm a nut

then make baby poop with a punch to the gut!"

The act of singing the song and keep his eyes closed so he didn't have to see the crowd (though he could hear them laughing and cheering him on) had Killua's body getting into it and he was shaking his diaper booty like there was no tomorrow.

"Stupid babies like me we don't need to think!

we just sit in our diaper and super stink!

Watch me prove that as a baby I'm the best

I'm gonna fill my diapers with a super big mess!"

Killua's eyes shot open at that, had he really just promised that!? worse, his body was again moving on it's own accord and he was squatting down now, grunting and pushing, puffing out his cheeks.

'no no no no! why can't I stop myself! GOOOON! HELP!' Killua thought.

"Killua? whats going on?" Came Gon's voice.

Killua almost didn't believe it at first, it was just he wanted Gon to save him that he heard the voice of his boyfriend! But no, a look over his shoulder showed Gon standing there, eyebrow raised.

"G-Gon you have to s-save me! I-I-I.." Killua tried to tell Gon about what had happened, how he'd been victimized but before he could get the story out, something else came out in the back of his diaper. "I'M POOPING!" Killua cried out.

if the muffled farts hadn't of been hint enough, the back of the THICK diapers bloating out and getting even bigger would of given it away, and despite the diaper's boast of super stink guard, Killua's backed up stinky load (he hadn't gone in 5 days) was filling the area with a rotten smell, driving part of the crowd away.

Gon for his part just held his nose and then shook his head.

"Really Killua? You won't wear diapers to bed despite being a bed wetter, but you'll load them in public..Your coming with me mister man." Gon scolded and walked over.

"Um.. Should we tell him-" hector started to ask Carlo, holding his own nose.

"Nah, it's better this way. you can get out of the area of effect though, I'm gonna go say by by to baby Killua."

Walking over Gon was scolding Killua and swatting his boyfriends mushy butt as Killua whined and whimpered, sucking his thumb and still going.

"Hi, I'm Carlo...I was watching your little guy today." Carlo said, holding out a hand.

"Oh, well, thanks. I'm sure he was a handful." Gon said, giving Killua a look then shaking Carlo's hand.

"well he wasn't that bad. it was a lot of fun actually. anyways, here's the rest of the diapers Killua got and asked me to put on him, and if you even need a babysitter, give me a call." Carlo said.

"Heh, i just might, give me your number." Gon said, taking out his phone and handing it to Carlo, one hand still mushing Killua's tush.

"there we go. anyways, you two have fun! Byeeee baby Killua! you were LOTS of fun to play with." Carlo said and waved bye to the stinky big baby.

"Killua, don't be rude!" Gon scolded.

Killua whimpered, knowing there was no way he was living this down, he was gonna be in diapers for at LEAST a month..and knew it was pointless to try and tell the truth now.

Sliding his thumb out of his mouth as he finished loading his diaper, he gave a weak wave to Carlo and in a small voice said

"Bye bye."

The end

[desdemonafictional]

The morning after the wedding party

Banners from the Turrets au

Despite all muddled hopes to the contrary, Deadlock woke up with a very solid, very real hangover. It was his own fault, he couldn’t argue; he’d drunk enough engex to corrode a steel beam. When he came stumbling out of his room and into the only other room in this cramped little flat, hand clutched against helm, he’d nearly tripped on the body laying across his floor.

“Oh slag,” he said, optics fritzing in and out, “did I kill somebody?”

Blue light blinked on at his feet. “I’m alive,” the body said, “thanks so much for the concern.”

Deadlock relaxed marginally. “Thank Primus,” he said, “I didn’t want to go back to jail.”

The body levered itself upright, with a wheeze and a grind of straining mechanisms, just about the same time it dawned on Deadlock what had happened.

“You stayed,” he said, with an involuntary smile that made his left optic start to ache.

“Said I was gonna,” Ratchet said, brushing dust off himself, now fully upright. “Anyway, I was just answering memos most of the night. No recharge hookup.”

“…You didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” Deadlock said. He frowned. This hurt less. “My berth could fit two.”

“I specifically said,” Ratchet told him, “we were not going to frag, make out, or touch each other. How do you think sharing a berth would have ended?”

Deadlock gave him a long, serious once-over. “So you are interested,” he said. “I wasn’t sure.”

Ratchet snorted. “Seemed pretty sure last night. I think I’ve still got drool in my gears.”

Deadlock flashed his fangs, to make up for the fact that he could feel his biolights flushing with a hellish combination of arousal and embarrassment. “I meant, I thought maybe you weren’t into fragging around. You don’t seem like the type. Everyone knows you and Pharma were practically conjunxed for like, a million years. And you don’t hook up with anybody at the hospital.”

That was actually the first thing Deadlock learned about Ratchet, after coming to the hospital for his work-sponsor parole. It was weird, kind of a shock to the system—he couldn’t help wondering if they’d still been together that one time, when Deadlock-then-Drift had ended up on Ratchet’s table in the Dead End. This much he’d actually picked up from Pharma, who was comfortable enough in his bitterness to remark on that shared history in front of apparently anyone, including the mech he’d called Rung’s little pet sparkeater.

Didn’t bother Deadlock. He liked it when autobots wrote him off as a rabid berserker. Usually.

The point was, Deadlock had pretty quickly taken apart the facts as he knew them and come to the conclusion that Ratchet was probably a serious commitment type, a wine-and-dine type, not the kind who’d be interested in the patented Deadlock brand of “get over here and sit on my spike, and I’ll eat your valve after”. If that wasn’t the problem, then Deadlock couldn’t make heads or tails of why Ratchet hadn’t wanted to frag him last night.

“I don’t hook up with anyone because I’m at my job,” Ratchet said, “am I the only one at this institution who knows the meaning of inappropriate workplace relations?”

Deadlock’s plating flattened. “Is that why you don’t wanna ‘face me? Because we’re coworkers now?”

Ratchet blinked at him a couple times. “Now hey,” he said, “I didn’t say I didn’t want to—I wasn’t trying to—” He dug two fingers into his chevron and then said, “I’m gonna go get out breakfast for us.”

Several kliks later, with two cubes of basic mid-grade set out between them on the top of the cold-box, which was the only flat surface in Deadlock’s flat, Ratchet said, “I’m not against us interfacing. I just want to know what you’re getting out of it, before I agree to anything.”

Immediately, Deadlock relaxed. “Oh,” he said, “yeah, sure. Okay so what I’m offering to do is spike-and-valve, in a berth,” he started ticking off fingers, “maximum foreplay, aftercare, I’d rather top but if you wanna spike me I’m willing to ride. I don’t do insults, blow jobs, or bondage.”

Ratchet blinked again. He took a sip of his cube, holding it between the two of them like a barricade.

“Wow,” he said, at last. “I heard ‘cons were cold, but—”

“Cold!” Deadlock sputtered. “I just offered to let you spike!”

“Uhuh,” Ratchet said, and took another sip of his drink. “What it sounds like you’re offering me is a side hustle that’s gonna cost me a couple thousand shanix at the end of the night.”

“I’m not—I don’t do that kind of thing!”

Ratchet just looked at him, over the edge of the cube.

Deadlock set his jaw and then amended. “Anymore. I don’t do that anymore.” He knocked back half his cube in one go, and then said, “If I was trying to sell you something, you’d know it.”

What he didn’t say—what he wouldn’t say—was that if the version of him who had peddled spike services in the backstreets hadn’t been anything close to this kind of picky about boundaries. And he certainly wouldn’t have bothered to list his own preferences to a prospective buyer. Despite the mileage he’d gotten back before the war, Deadlock hadn’t actually learned how to frag and like it until after becoming a ‘con.

Before the war, he’d been a drifter himself—an addict, a leaker, a sciv. He took odd jobs. He did dirty work for cheap. Never had the focus to build himself a clientele base and stick with it, not the way Gasket had. Robbery, smuggling, day labor, sex. He’d sucked spike occasionally in gutters without art, mind already on the next fix, just trying to get it over and done. Courtesan he had not been. It hadn’t seemed possible to him then that fragging could be anything but a chore. Why bother trying to please a partner when you could get yourself off faster and for free? He’d preferred the comfortable warmth of laying curled against the side of a friend, teeth embedded in an exposed wrist-line.

His gaze lingered over Ratchet’s thick wrist, the clean white paint gapping to reveal hints of black cable underneath. What he wouldn’t trade to get his teeth in that.

Oblivious to the scrutiny, Ratchet sighed and set down his cube. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not being fair to you. I’m just trying to figure out the… the angle. What it is you want from me.”

Deadlock eased up, but less than before, wary now. “Well it’s—if that’s how autobots do it, I can list what I want from you, and you can list what you want from me? Is that how you do it?”

“What.”

Deadlock flexed a set of claws, frustrated. “I don’t know, I’ve never fragged an autobot before! Primus, I’m gonna have to call Aglet. He’ll know how this works.”

“Do not call Aglet,” Ratchet ordered, “nobody else needs to know about my sex life.”

Deadlock made a frustrated noise and then clicked his claw tips on the top of the cold box. “Okay, he said, “okay. Then—how do you normally do this? When you wanna frag somebody, what do you tell them?”

Ratchet pursed his lips. He gave the corner of the ceiling a complicated look. “Actually, I’m having trouble remembering. It’s been a few thousand years.”

Deadlock frowned. “You mean, since Pharma.”

“…Yeah,” Ratchet said. “Since Pharma. Five times burned, twice shy, as they say.”

“Well if you were a ‘con,” Deadlock said, and then abruptly found that he liked this idea. He brightened. “—If you were a con medic, on a ship with me, and I wanted to hook up… First I’d get you alone somewhere. Then I’d tell you how sexy I think you are, and I’d offer you some of the things I’m good at. Then if you were interested, you’d tell me what kinds of things you’d do for me, in exchange.”

“What is this, a barter system?”

Now it was Deadlock’s turn to blink. “I mean yeah, technically,” he said. “You get something you want, I get something I want. Equality.”

“But,” Ratchet said, looking lost. “How do… but don’t you…”

Deadlock waited, finishing off his drink, while Ratchet shifted helplessly from one abandoned sentence to another.

Come to think of it, he’d heard autobots call ‘con culture cutthroat, cold, and calculated. Everything had a cost, they said; nothing came free with ‘cons. It was all about the exchange rate.

Well (and he wouldn’t admit this to just anybody) maybe it could be. When you had that many drifters and lowlifes and scoundrels all piled in the same place and equally armed to the teeth, you worked with what you had. And Deadlock had liked it. Right up until Turmoil.

But the less said about Turmoil, the better.

Deadlock considered Ratchet for a moment, feeling the last of his headache recede into a manageable buzz. Sweet Primus he really was to die for, with that jaw and those shoulders.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell you what. You get on the berth back there, warm your pussy up for me, and I’ll give you the routine they liked in the Darkmount medical bay.”

Ratchet’s brows went way up. For a second Drift was sure he’d made the wrong call, steeling himself to be graceful about it when Ratchet started shouting, but after a second, the doctor turned his gaze with some interest on the open bedroom door.

“I’ll stop at any point you want me to,” Deadlock added in a rush, vaguely remembering some chatter he’d heard from autobots before. “Cons aren’t all like that, with the no-means-yes rustwash. I like you, Ratchet. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Ratchet gave him a considering look. Deadlock tried to shift himself into an appealing pose, without making it obvious he was doing so.

“Alright…” Ratchet said. He held up one stern finger. “But only because I deserve it, after a night like that.”

--

Afterward, a little sticky and hot under the engine cover, Ratchet touched two fingers to his mouth, where Deadlock had kissed him in the moment of overload. Deadlock lay beside him, foggy with afterglow, cheek pillowed in the crook of his elbow.

“This is only until you find somebody you really wanna be with,” Ratchet said. He looked at his fingers, not at Deadlock. “Find yourself something steady, and we’ll go back to being coworkers.”

Deadlock frowned, a pang in the otherwise blissful glow, but didn’t argue. If that’s what Ratchet wanted, then that’s what Ratchet could have. Five times bitten, twice shy, after all. It wasn’t as if Deadlock didn’t know how to make the best of whatever scraps he was given in life.

[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 2)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo. 

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 4,697

Warnings: a fuck ton of swearing, self hatred, angst, fluff bits sort of

______________________________________________________________________

        Ever since your little accusation of Dean, there’d been a little tension between the two of you. You were unsure of what kind of tension there was, or if there was even any to begin with. Surely Dean wasn’t upset about you teasing him, he’d let worse things roll off of his back without sparing a thought about it. Despite your doubts, your routine and friendship were pretty much the same in all regards. You still hunted together and made an awesome team. You still ate greasy food at establishments that barely deserved the title ‘Diner.’ And you still sang together to all his old music. So you were probably just over thinking things like you always did, but you still had an inkling that something was off about Dean.

       Black and blue streaks painted the night sky with speckles of stars scattered across the canvas. The street lights outside cast pale yellow rays from the crack in the curtains that hit across the corner of Dean’s bed and stretched up the wall. The rays revealed to you the quilted pattern of the comforter and Dean’s duffel bag thrown haphazardly on the floor with clothes leaking out of it. Parts of the room not in direct contact with the light were in view as well. Traveling up his bed, you could see the curves of his cheek bones as he slept. Dean truly was beautiful. This was when he looked completely at peace, when he was asleep. 

       You turned to your side again, the bed rustling while you did. You had nightmares like most hunters did, but that wasn’t the reason why sleep evaded you tonight. After that night in the bar you basically cemented that you both had feelings for one another. Sure you and Dean flirted back and forth as a joke, but the other night was different. It was more real. What you had before was just your normal relationship. Dean shamelessly flirted with you and you made a joke out of it. It was your go to move to dodge his affections.

       You didn’t really know how to respond to these advances from him, or anyone really at the moment. Your track record of relationships wasn’t the shiniest around and definitely nothing to brag about, most ending in either death or betrayal, but you were mostly scared to make things weird with Dean. He was your bud, your pal, your dude, any nickname that you could call a friend you’ve absolutely said it to him. 

       What would happen if you two did get together? A million and one questions popped into your mind when you thought about it, all ending with the same answer. Nothing good. It would be easier to play his flirting off as a joke to not hurt his feelings because relationships were nothing but trouble from your experience. 

       At first glance you’d think that Dean would never want to settle down and was content to have temporary lovers that lead nowhere, but he wanted what most people wanted, what you wanted too. True love. Pure and unadulterated love. But the bond you two shared was enough for you right now. You were ok with being alone, not that you really gave yourself much of a choice on the matter having sworn off relationships and meaningless nights with strangers. You couldn’t bring yourself to be with someone, not with the baggage you had strapped on your back. If anyone, hunter or not, saw the scar on your back you knew what they would say and the facial expression that would come with it.

       If you let your walls down for even a single moment you would lean closer to Dean and let what might happen, happen. But the growing void inside refused to let you, God if he saw your scar he would look at you with disgust. It’s not the scar that would make him turn away, but the identity associated with it. Across your shoulder blades read a prophecy in Latin, burned into your skin the day your powers were activated. It was a symbol of your power and title. The curved letters created the prophecy of the Slayer reading; 

“In omni generatione, est electus. Una puella in mundi. Et arte vires et solus geram et in surgere viribus a tenebris. Ad propagationem eorum mala prohibere et ad terras eorum numero. Quæ est Slayer.”

“Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the forces of darkness. To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.”

       The night you got your scar was still fresh in your mind and could play back like a movie reel. It was an ordinary day just like any other. Your biggest problems were fitting in at your new high school, getting good grades, and avoiding whatever bullshit your mom was going to throw at you, but little did you know you had a big storm coming. The activation of a Slayer’s powers differs from Slayer to Slayer. Some feel nothing, others feel a tickle, but you experienced the worst burning pain you’d ever felt in your life. The moment the imaginary hot metal touched your skin a hellish scream was ripped from your throat. You swore you could feel your skin melt away to expose your bones. The pain was so white and intense that after only a couple of moments your body went limp as a way of protecting you. 

       For weeks the burning pain didn’t go away. The pain and scar served as a reminder that you would never lead a normal life. Never wear a strapless dress or swimsuit ever again. You could never let anyone touch your back. If they felt the raised skin on your upper back you knew they would have questions, and ones you couldn’t answer. It’s not everyday you see anyone with a large brand on their back, or a brand of any kind. But after the reveal the reactions were the same, eyes filled with pity and hands recoiling from disgust. 

       Dean would react the same way. He would look at you just like your mom did, nothing but a demon. I mean that is where you got your powers from as the Slayer, so you had to be a branch on the demon family tree. Dean hated demons more than anything in the world, so where did that put you in his eyes? Embers in your heart started to light at the thought of being related to scum, to vermin. Thoughts and fantasies of a normal life poured gasoline onto the fire until it burned away your entire existence. 

       “God damnit.” Hot air left your lungs as you sighed. The cardboard sheets of your bed pooled around your waist as you sat up. Your eyes were seemingly staring at nothing while you pondered what the hell to do now that you were awake. Your heart felt deflated like a popped balloon, crushed under the weight of your reality. 

       You would give both your legs and your entire movie collection to be able to sleep right now and forget about the harsh world outside the warm cocoon your hotel room proved to be. The desperate need to just sleep was choking you, making tears prick at your eyes.

       “Hey, you ok?” Had you been more awake, Dean’s sudden interjection would’ve made you flinch. Your reflexes and actions were much slower as you turned to look at him lying on his back. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him half asleep, hair fluffy and eyes barely open. 

       “Would you believe me if I said yes?” You asked in a rough voice. Your fingertips ran through your hair pulling it out of your face. Your eyelids fluttered closed in an attempt to concentrate on your breathing. Dean was taking his sweet time answering you. His eyes were scanning over your form. Your chin was perched atop one of your knees, arms around said leg while the other was stretched out under your covers. Your skin had been hardened by years of hunting, fingertips riddled with callouses from the weapons you’d handled. The only parts of you that were soft were hidden from sight. Dean also bet that your cheeks were soft, he had never had the chance to touch them but someday he’d like to. If you allowed it he would be able to stare at you for hours, trying to solve you like a Rubix cube. For the most part Dean could tell what you were thinking and feeling without second guessing himself, but there were always moments he was unable to read your body language. 

       He’s seen you in this state before, not too often but every once in a while. It was almost as if you were a statue, unmoving and barely talking. Whenever you were quiet he knew something was up. It was terrifying when you were quiet. At the pit of Dean’s chest an ache began to grow, he felt this way whenever he saw you like this. Physically there was nothing he could do, no mountain he could push or villain to defeat. This was something you had to work on your own in order to heal, and he understood that. But it didn’t make it suck any less watching you torture yourself internally when you were hit with these episodes.

       “Need some company over there?” You held your breath for a moment mulling over Dean’s question. A familiar touch caressed your mind. This wasn’t the first time you’d been in this situation before. Nothing registered as contact on your skin, it was just numb.

       “Yeah, I do.” Wordlessly, Dean padded over to your bed and lifted the covers. The shadows on his body moved with the light from the street lamps. There was a silent pact you two had to never bring up these nights, nights where you both needed some human contact with no questions asked. 

       Nights like these began after your activation. Dean had never seen you so upset before. As a teen he had no idea what to do, he probably still didn’t know now. But he knew that being held helped you and your mother was sure as hell not gonna do that for you. She was always too busy hunting with John. Truly those two were cut from the same cloth. Without the guidance from your parents you sought comfort in each other, and thus your silent pact was formed. Neither of you knew what the reason for this silence was, but nonetheless you kept it. Dean laid on his back with his arms open inviting you in, reminded of when you two used to do this before you left. 

       Feeling your head on his chest felt like home. A gentle surge of energy made his skin hum as you wrapped your arms around him. If there was anywhere Dean knew he was meant to be, it was here. 

       “Goodnight sweetheart.”

       “G’night.”

       And for the first time tonight, you actually slept.

       Once the morning came around you and Dean were already on the road heading towards another case, Colorado to be more specific. You got a call from a friend of your mother. Her name was Jen and she worked as a park ranger for the Grand Mesa National Forest near Grand Junction. During the past couple of weeks, people had gone missing with no evidence left behind. Jen knew that this wasn’t a bear attack like the police claimed, so she called you and Dean for help. Of course you both accepted excited for a new adventure. 

       The Impala roared across the black pavement, kicking up rocks and zooming past trees so fast the leaves shook. In your opinion, the day was perfect. All across your part of the hemisphere the temperature was starting to drop. It was early October and the snow was starting to fall in a beautiful light drift, letting the wind decide its path. The ground was dusted with white sparkles that glittered in the sunlight. The snow wasn’t thick enough to build igloos out of just yet, but it was just thick enough to stick to the ground. You closed your eyes trying to absorb the environment’s good energy. Somehow you convinced Dean to roll the windows down and here you were with your head practically out of the window taking it all in. You were never sure why, but something about the cold air woke up your bones. Dean would always claim it was because you ran hot and then wink at you. 

       The negative energy was evaporating into the air to be turned into a beautiful white mosaic. The wonderful weather made you think that maybe someone was looking out for you. Maybe someone out there saw your rough night and decided to give you a break. Whatever the cause, you weren’t going to question it and were going to keep singing along to the Blue Oyster Cult CD Dean had in.

       Dean looked over to you and committed the image to memory. No matter how many times he saw your smile it would never be enough. You were stretched out in the passenger seat with your shoes kicked off and jacket thrown in the backseat despite the low temperature. Seeing you beside him in the Impala brought on a flood of old memories. Dean wasn’t able to count the number of times Sam, him, and you drove to get ice-cream and dick around town just to get out of whatever motel you were stuck in at the moment. The three of you were inseparable as kids, always hanging out or messing with each other. But everything came to an end once you both turned eighteen. 

       By the time you had become the Slayer, your relationship with your mother was already strained. She was not the fuzziest person around and was certainly not fit to be a parent. The way she ended up in the hunting business was the same as John. Her husband got killed by demons and the rest was history. From then on she dragged you along on all her hunts and after a couple years she ran into John Winchester. The two made a surprisingly good team. 

       Your mother, Caroline, was always off putted by your existence it seemed. It was as if you were a burden to her, just extra luggage to haul around that reminded her of her late husband. There were never any bed time stories or hugs, just life lessons and the occasional pat on the back. At fourteen you considered yourself to be independent. You cooked for yourself, you took care of yourself, and with the help of Dean you were able to raise Sammy up to be a productive member of society. (Or dork as Dean would like to say) Your mother was barely around so it wasn’t a surprise that you grew up faster than you should have, but things only got harder after you received the call of the Slayer. Caroline resented you for what you were, even if she never voiced her opinion out loud. Her words were sharp and responses were short. You knew what she thought about you.

       Dean never understood how a mother could do that to her child, her only child. Mothers, parents in general, were supposed to protect their kids. The day you left Dean swore he could feel his heart break in two. But as much as it hurt him to see you leave to start your own life in the big world, he knew why you needed to. He knew that you needed to get away from your mom’s abuse and passive aggressive attitude. But none of that mattered because you were here now and Dean was incredibly thankful to whoever brought you into his life again.

       A violent buzzing on your thigh stole your attention away from the beautiful weather today brought you. You sat up from your seat and reached your hands forward, clasping them and stretching until you heard a few clicks from your joints. You stifled a yawn as you looked at your phone. “Hey Jen, yeah we’ll be there soon. No, no don’t worry. Alright. See ya.” Dean glanced over to you, silently asking you if everything was ok. “Jen’s just being paranoid. She thinks the police are gonna know that we’re up to something nefarious.”

       “What does she think we’re gonna do? Show up holding a sign that says ‘Hey we’re definitely going to murder someone?’”

       “You never know, those could come back in style.”

       After another hour of driving, the Impala rolled onto a gravel driveway connected to a log built office. As you stepped out of the car the crisp air of the forest nipped at your skin waking you up. The gas and pollution of the cities made you appreciate the fresh air and scenic views before you. As far as the eye could see there were only trees that looked straight out of a Hallmark movie perfectly covered in snow. For the last month all you had seen was gray buildings. It was suffocating how many people squished themselves into one place that they called home.

       Dead leaves and rocks crunched underneath your feet as you walked into the Park Ranger’s Office. A wave of hot air rushed past your cheeks as you stepped into the heated building. It was simple in structure having only four rooms, a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and an office. The aesthetic was just as you had imagined it would be. The walls were covered with nature paraphernalia everywhere, with samples of tree leaves and forest fauna tacked onto poster board naming the different parts of the organism. Other parts of the wall were covered in maps and pictures of memories from years and decades ago, like a life size scrap book. The heels of your boots clacked against the wooden floor giving a signal to the workers inside that they had some company. 

       “Hello?” You called out. It’d been awhile since you saw Jen, so you weren’t sure what you were going to get. But after a few moments your voice was met with clunking boots and a familiar face. 

       “(Y/N)! Dean! Thank god you’re here, I’ve had enough of all the spooky shit going down here and would like to go back to fearing bears instead of monsters.” Jen said bounding towards you two with a smile. In her hands she was holding a manila folder that had papers sticking out in all different angles. You smiled feeling her bubbly energy, feeling yourself start to charge up a little after such a long drive. 

       “We’ll get you back to fearing those bears in no time. What do you have for us?” You asked stepping closer to get a look at the file Jen prepared, with Dean following your steps.

       “The disappearances have been happening for years and only during the late fall and winter season, but no one talks about it.” Jen huffed out. She leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed.

       “The police usually just show up, ask their questions, and never do anything to solve the cases. Always claiming it’s bears. But I call bullshit, because bears only kill people when threatened or if they’re messing with their cubs. I doubt that many people would be stupid enough to play chicken with a bear. And even if they did end up dead bears bury their prey and feed on them until completely gone, but we haven’t found any evidence to support that claim. No body, no bears.” Jen’s description of the case was strange. Both you and Dean were already mentally working on a list of creatures to rule out in your hunt. 

       “Have you seen or smelled anything strange in those weeks?” Dean asked. He was thumbing through the file to see pictures of the site of the crime, narrow footprints on the ground, and trees scratched with bloody long claws. Jen looked at the ground, pulling her brows together in concentration as she thought back, willing her memories to give her some sort of clue to what happened here. 

       “Not that I can think of…” For a moment it looked like something clicked in Jen’s eyes. “Although….”

       “Yeah?” Jen shook her head again dismissing herself. “Anything will help.”

       Jen pulled her lips tight before answering you. “The claw marks I’ve noticed on the trees are odd.”

       “How so?” Your partner asked stepping in.

       “It’s not a huge difference from regular bear claw marks, but something feels off about them. The claw marks feel less like territory guarding and more like a result from an attack. If that makes any sense, they’re less precise.” You and Dean shared a look, almost as if you were telepathically sharing the same idea. Your gut was telling you already predictions of what was terrorizing the woods, but you wanted to get all the details before you jumped to conclusions. The case seemed like a pretty open and close shut one. You were about to thank Jen when the office door suddenly swung open. After a moment of panic, Dean quickly picked up the case file and hid it in the confines of his leather jacket. The door swung back hitting the wall with a loud smack revealing an older gentleman in a police uniform. His face was grim, every crease in his face probably from frowning so much. Your eyes looked to his breast pocket with the name tag, ‘Rick Sullivan, Police Chief.’

       “Ms. Clinton, you’re not scaring the locals again with your fairy tails are you?” The policeman’s voice lacked any humor or sarcasm whatsoever. From the cadence of his words you could tell that this wasn’t the first time Jen had this conversation with him. Jen’s body language switched. She stood up straight with a stoic look on her face. Oh yeah, they had definitely met before. Jen bit her tongue, wanting so badly to tell him off and reveal to him the true nature of this world and watch as his face morphed into one of pure terror.

       “Not at all,” Jen said, clipping her words as short as she could. “just telling these kids that now might not be the best time to go hiking. Ya know, what with the disappearances and all.” Her eyes narrowed slightly with a fake smile. She couldn’t help but get in at least one jab before the conversation ended. It was a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. But at least with this option she was able to do what she wanted, regardless of the consequences. The police man, now known as Rick from his name tag, clenched his jaw. Tension built up into the air as the two stared at each other for a moment.

       “Just some bears getting their energy out, nothing more than that. But regardless the department needs to check all the bases and I need the sign in form.” Jen breathed deeply, most likely to stop herself from saying anything else and walked out of the room to get the clipboard the office left out at the entrance on a pedestal for guests to sign in at.

       “Is everything ok? We heard there were some people who went missing here.” You asked casually slipping your hand into Dean’s. The rush Dean felt from your skin touching his made his heart beat quicken. That familiar hum of energy traveled up his arm and dissipated into the rest of his body. He knew you were only doing it to protect your cover, but it still didn’t fail to make him nervous. Feeling some sort of magnetic pull, Dean moved closer to you. You would be lying if you said that playing this role didn’t feel natural to you. It was odd how easily you could slip into the role of a fake girlfriend, holding onto his arm and leaning your head on his shoulder.

       Rick shook his head and sighed. “Nothing so dramatic happened here. We just have a few residents that like to stir things up and make trouble where there isn’t any. As long as you don’t hike where you shouldn’t be you should be fine.” He stated this like it was such an obvious fact that even a mouth breathing four year old would be able to see it. Rick seemed to think highly of himself, towering over you two in condescension. To him you two were just some dumb kids looking to cause him grief.

       “Are you sure? We read that there wasn’t any damning evidence that pointed to a bear attack.” Dean butted in. Your grip on his hand tightened almost as a warning to get him to cut the attitude he was sporting. If it wasn’t in his voice, you could see it all on his face. Dean’s eyes were locked on Rick with his lips pursed. Of course that shit head had to have at least one word in on this, his personality wouldn’t have it any other way. He always had issues with authority, something you thought he picked up since he was always under John’s thumb.

       Rick could sense Dean’s snarky attitude a mile away and reciprocated. His posture straightened even more, if possible, and he pulled his shoulders back. “Son, I’ve been on the force for damn near forty years. I think I know a bear attack when I see one.” You were sure if Dean uttered another word Rick would have him arrested just for being disrespectful. Truly the police chief before you was the epitome of the angry baby boomer’s generation, and Dean was just another millennial in his eyes here to ruin the diamond industry by spending all his money on avocados or not getting married. 

       You tugged on Dean’s arm wanting nothing more than to get out of here before the situation escalated. “Hey love, why don’t we head home and come back another time?” You  asked leaning into Dean, affectively playing the part of the girlfriend. The two of you had everything you needed from Jen to start working on the case, and if you had any more questions you’d call her. Guess she wasn’t kidding when she mentioned over the phone that the cops around here were twitchy. Dean couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his lips looking at you clinging onto him. Fake or not he loved being able to have these moments with you. 

       “Sure thing sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes followed your figure as you lead him out of the door to the office, ignoring anything Rick Sullivan had to say to him. 

       Once you knew you were out of ear shot of the asshole back in the office you felt the need to speak up brewing inside you.

       “You are going to get us arrested with that smart mouth of yours.” You poked at Dean. Looking over to him you saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He didn’t regret a word he said. You both walked in sync to the car with clasped hands, no longer safe from the cold outside. 

“Well my mouth could be doing other things if you want sweetheart.” Dean tugged on your hand, pulling you to him with a smirk. Your laughter filled the air as you shook your head.

       “Like what? Complain and bitch about the cold? You are pretty good at that.”  Rick’s crotchety behavior was long forgotten by the time you two got in the Impala. Yet again your rapport with Dean remained the same. Maybe harmless flirting was just your friendship and you were making too big of a deal about it. Analyzing your history with him did remind you that this dynamic of yours had been going on forever. Nothing came from it then, so maybe nothing will come from it now. The two of you settled back into the Impala to start yet another adventure into the supernatural world. 

[shima-draws]

Who’s birthday is it?!! It’s KEITH’S!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEEF, I LOVE YOU

I also wrote a suuuuper sappy fic about that ring ^ down below!!

Bonus:

And now for the fluff :’)

Keith wakes to see a star outside of his window. It’s a brilliant blue, dazzling and bright, and he’s immediately reminded of the mesmerizing color of Lance’s eyes, like the deep sea. He rolls over and flings an arm out, expecting to come into contact with an entanglement of limbs and exposed wires, but all he grasps is air. Confused and still half asleep, he cracks open a dark violet eye and releases a wounded huff when he realizes that the other half of the bed is empty, its occupant long gone. His heart makes a strange leap up into his throat but he shakes it off, pushing the paranoid thoughts away before they can nag at him. Lance probably left to get a system checkup. He does that, sometimes, in the early morning before all the hustle and bustle of the day’s plans crowd in.

Rest is under the cut!!

With a yawn Keith rubs his eyes and pulls himself into a sitting position, taking a moment to stretch his muscles and kickstart his brain into working for the day. It’s still way too early, but Lance’s absence weighs heavy on his shoulders, so he knows for a fact he won’t be able to go back to sleep without him. Just as he’s about to drag himself out of bed and into the bathroom, the door to the room opens, sliding across the panel with a soft hiss of air. And lo and behold, there is Lance, dazzling ocean eyes lighting up the darkness like a beacon. They have a tendency to do that, sometimes. Keith raises an eyebrow at the tray of food in Lance’s hands as the AI makes a pouting face, crossing the space between them in a few lengthy strides. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” Lance whines, nudging Keith with his hip to get him to scoot over. Once he does Lance takes a seat next to him, being careful of the teetering glass of orange juice. Keith shrugs half-heartedly and releases another yawn. “You weren’t in bed, so I woke up.” The look Lance gives him has butterflies erupting in his stomach, and he hurriedly diverts his attention to the extremely appetizing breakfast on the tray. “So, uh. What’s that?” Lance promptly hands him the meal, a cheerful grin on his face. “Hunk spent all morning whipping this up, so you’d better enjoy it!” The black-haired teen blinks, his mind still fuzzy from sleep. “...It’s for me?” Lance chuckles, his eyes glowing brighter as he does. “Uh, yeah.” Furrowing his eyebrows, Keith inspects the meal of hash browns, eggs, bacon, and french toast with strawberries and whipped cream laid out for him. “What’s the occasion?” He mumbles, somewhat lost. Lance makes a weird noise in the back of his throat, drawing back in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?” Keith stares at him, dumbfounded. Should he? Is it “breakfast in bed for your boyfriend” day? “Oh, man,” Lance laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head amusedly, the wires poking out of the back of his neck bending slightly as he does. “I can’t believe—alright. You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Keith decides it’s too early in the morning to argue with him, so he shrugs and sets to eating, practically inhaling everything on the tray. Hunk really is the best cook around, no doubt about that. In between bites he feeds Lance some of his breakfast, who happily munches bacon out of his hand and teasingly nips his fingers. Keith laughs and elbows him in the side as revenge, and the rest of their meal is spent joking around and stealing sticky kisses before sharing the glass of orange juice. “Okay!” Lance cries out once they finish, the plates squeaky clean. “Get dressed, we’ve got a lot to do today!” So Keith, with a begrudging groan, hauls himself out of bed and throws on some jeans before his boyfriend drags him out of the room and down to the workshop, where Katy is diligently doing weapon checks, her hair tied back in a messy braid. “Morning, Katy!” “Hey, Katy.” The short girl puts her tools down and hops off her stool, coming over to sweep Keith up in an embrace. “Whoa, hey!” Keith laughs as she finally sets him down and ruffles his hair, being mindful of the stains on her fingers. “Geez, Lance, you really let him dress like that?” She crosses her arms, giving the robot an unimpressed look. “Hey, hey! He can wear whatever he wants, I’m not going to hassle him about his fashion sense.” Lance holds his hands up in defense. Keith gives himself a once-over and frowns. “What, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Katy snorts, trying to hide a grin. “Who wears ripped jeans nowadays? That’s such a 21st century thing.” “Since when are you the expert on fashion?” He huffs, feeling an embarrassed pink settle on his cheeks. “Katy, bad! Katy, no!” Lance whines, gently smacking her shoulder. She has the decency to look outraged at this. “No badmouthing Keith! Not today!” “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” she giggles, backing away from Lance’s light pats. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but uh—yeah. I’ll see you...later.” Lance nods and takes Keith’s hand, nearly dragging him out the door. Before he turns the corner he catches the light-haired girl’s curious gaze. “You gonna do it?” She mouths, pointing to her hand. Immediately a red flush spreads across Lance’s cheekbones and paints his ears, and he swallows. “Later,” he mouths back before giving a parting wave and disappearing from view. Katy shakes her head fondly and turns back to her work, cracking her knuckles in preparation.

“Lance—slow down!” The tugging on his arm stops abruptly as Lance evens his pace, shooting a sheepish look over his shoulder at the Red Paladin. “Sorry, babe.” “Where are we even going? And—“ He looks around, noticing how deserted the ship seems to be. “Where is everybody? Where’s Hunk and Shiro?” Lance waves his hand dismissively. “Hunk’s gonna be in the kitchen all day, and Shiro is...uh. Training with Allura,” he supplies, smiling disarmingly. He is rewarded with a very uninterested look, an expression of suspicion written all over Keith’s face. “Lance—“ “Just! Go along with me on this one today, alright?” He begs, biting his lip. Oh, no. Keith is always weak for that quirk of his. He gives in with a sigh, “Alright, but can you at least tell me—“ “Sweet! Thanks, Dais!” Lance squeals happily, leaning over to smooch his cheek. Keith doesn’t even get time to respond as Lance suddenly drags him off again, and he decides he might as well stop fighting, since he’s already lost the battle a hundred times over.

They are sitting in the lounge as afternoon dips into twilight, drenched in sweat and other alien liquids. Keith chugs a water packet in seconds, tossing his head back with a groan. “Well,” Lance grins at him, looking not nearly as winded or sweaty. The perks of having an cooling system, Keith supposes. Damn those useful internal fans. “How’s your day been so far, Keith?” Keith opens his mouth to spew a list of complaints but finds himself stopping. Lance had decided to take him on multiple trips to different planets, visiting all of their old haunts from the simulator, and it was even more amazing to witness them in person instead of through a fake projection. The whole entire time Lance had lead him along, beaming as bright as a star and showering him in compliments like flower petals. Despite the fact that they’d had to make a run for it from several angry villagers, a space monster and an erupting (and deadly) geyser, it had actually been a really fun day. “...Good,” he finally answers, thoughtful. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see those planets outside of the simulator. I didn’t even know they existed for real.” Lance hums, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “Of course they do. I had to gather my data from somewhere, didn’t I? Worldbuilding based off of actual fact is my specialty!” He moves from his place leaning against the counter and crouches in front of Keith, tilting his head to the side. Oh, Keith loves it when he does that. “But it was only “good”, huh? Not great or fantastic or “absolutely amazing, Lance”!” Keith rolls his eyes. “Oh, quit it. You know that’s what I meant—“ “How about I make your day even better?” When Keith has fully processed what’s going on, Lance is crouched down on one knee with a velvety black box, revealing a shimmering silver ring inside with an AI cube as the stone. And before he knows it that ring is being slid onto his finger. Keith barely manages to find his voice, and even then it comes out as a very timid squeak. “...Lance?” “It’s not a wedding ring,” Lance says quickly, detecting the surprise in his expression. “O—“ Keith swallows and tries again, the butterflies from that morning completely turning his stomach and heart into mush. “Okay?” Lance takes a deep breath, a nervous pink blush dusting his cheekbones. “So um.” He starts, coughing. “Keith. We’ve...been through a lot together. And—and I just wanted you to know how much I treasure you and how much you mean to me. This goes way beyond my core programming, I—because of you, I’ve been able to find myself. Not as just some copy of Lance, but as...as a person that I can be proud of. We’ve made so many memories together, memories that are ours—and even now I’m beyond shocked that you chose me,” he speaks, starting to tear up. “I’m not human. I never will be. But—but you make me human...you give me all of these! These feelings and emotions and just, just everything, down to my circuits, down to the depths of my core processors, I...I love you. With all of my “heart”...my entire being loves you!” Keith chokes on a happy sob and covers his mouth, smiling so wide he’s sure the whole entire universe can see it. “This, is, uh,” Lance stutters, laughing, “it’s a promise ring, I had to do some research into them and what they mean, but uh—yeah. It’s my promise to you. I promise to always love you. I promise to always be here for you and protect you and help you when you fall, and tell you when you’re wrong and kiss you when you’re sad—all those things!” “Lance,” Keith hiccups, his shoulders shaking. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” he continues quickly, looking a little panicked. “You don’t even have to wear it. But...if you want. If you want! It can be a sort of...promise for our future. Someday...” Lance takes a deep breath and meets his eyes, the ferocity and emotion in them nearly overwhelming. “I want to marry you someday, Keith.” “Oh,” Keith exhales, beaming. ““Oh”? That’s all you have to say?” Lance chuckles, and Keith does too, and soon enough they’re both giggling like idiots. “Um,” Keith brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, chewing on his lip. “Lance, I...um...I’m...” He shakes his head frustratingly. “Dammit! Just, just come here!” And he pulls Lance’s collar up until he can kiss him fully on the mouth, conveying everything he wants to say through that simple action. Lance melts into it more than willingly, letting out a pleased hum against his lips. That familiar purring sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and Keith can feel how wide he’s smiling through their kiss, and knows that Lance can probably feel his equally as wide grin. Their teeth clack and bump a few times, their noses nudging against each other, far from a perfect kiss—but it means everything to Keith, who is beyond astounded that such a person exists and was made solely for him and even wants to marry him someday. Marry him! When they finally pull away, breathless and grinning dopily like fools, Keith locks his arms around Lance’s neck and embraces him tightly, hiding his joyful tears as he buries his nose into the crook of the AI’s neck. Lance holds him just as tightly, making soothing motions with his hands over his shoulderblades, and for that moment they are content. Lance catches movement out of the corner of his eye and looks down below, where Katy and Hunk are staring up at him from the ship’s main hallway, gazes expectant. Lance holds back a laugh and gives them a thumbs up through the glass, to which they respond by cheering and hooting loudly. “Hell yes!” Katy shouts, pumping a fist. “Oh god finally,” Hunk sighs happily. “I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever do it.” “Yeah well, imagine how long it’ll take him to actually propose,” the girl responds, snorting. “What are you two doing standing there?” The duo turn around and are met with the confused expressions of Allura, Shiro and Coran. “Aww guys, you missed it! Lance totally just gave Keith the promise ring!” Hunk gushes. “What?! No way!” Allura gasps, her eyes wide. “Yeah, we thought he was too chicken to do it too,” Katy smirks, amusement lacing her tone. “Oh, good. It’s about time,” Shiro sighs, shaking his head fondly. Coran chuckles from next to him. Allura pauses in her joyful squealing with Hunk, a thoughtful look settling on her features. “But, wait, did Lance not say that right after he did that he would take Keith into the dining hall?” Hunk and Katy gape, and silence reigns in the air for several moments, until— “Shit! We’re gonna be late! Move it, team!”

“Where are you taking me now?” Keith laughs as he’s dragged along once again, mouth slightly swollen and several marks decorating his neck, courtesy of Lance. The Blue Paladin looks equally as ravished  but thoroughly pleased, dark brown hair ruffled and wires sticking up haphazardly. “That wasn’t the only surprise of the day, Dais,” he teases, the code in his eyes practically dancing. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is it?” Lance finally halts in front of the huge double doors to the dining hall, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He pulls Keith forward until he’s standing right next to him at the door, and the raven can practically see the excitement radiating off of the other boy. Lance clears his throat and calls out, “Our prince has arrived!” The doors swing open and Keith is immediately greeted with a face full of streamers, balloons and confetti, and a loud chorus of, “Happy birthday, Keith!” He stands there in total shock for several moments, barely taking in the sight of all of his friends and the members of the Resistance decked out in party clothes and holding an enormous cake (baked by Hunk, no doubt). Laughter and cheerful faces surround him on all sides, and it takes everything he has not to simultaneously burst into tears, totally overwhelmed by emotion and the love he has for these people. “You really are dense,” Lance laughs. “You seriously didn’t realize it was your own birthday?” “I...I didn’t even...” Keith starts, totally in shock. He hadn’t even put any thought into it, thinking that nobody remembered. But Lance has always known, and he’d gone and put this whole thing together, all for him. Lance beams and takes his hand, pulling him into a slow waltz, humming an ever so familiar tune. Keith smiles, wide and watery, for tears are building up in the corners of his eyes. Katy claps for them, and Hunk wipes away his own tears along with a nearly hysterical Coran. Allura nods in approval, catching Shiro’s eye, who grins shyly before glancing away. The rest of the Resistance all erupt into chatter, preparing the huge feast for the evening, and gathering up all of the gifts for Keith to be opened later. Lance and Keith sway across the floor, totally in their own world. Lance opens his mouth to sing, the melody sweet and beautiful, and Keith can’t help but start crying again. “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy, all for the love of you. It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage... But you’ll look sweet upon the seat Of a bicycle made for two!” Lance leans in and presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead, and the two of them admire the gleam of his promise ring. “Happy birthday, Keith.”

AIN’T THAT THE SAPPIEST SHIT YOU’VE EVER READ?? HUH????? And yes this is totally gonna become canon in the AU. Fite me.

Aaaa thank you for joining me in this flufftastic adventure, I want to get the next chapter of AWZO uploaded soon too so :0

Please be sure to give a reblog!! I’d really appreciate it :’) I spent a lot of time on this whoops

Happy happy birthday to my favorite edgy emo kiddo

[fedorasaurus]

Dream Journal

As a heads-up, this writeup is long, wordy, and contains some mentions of war and aircraft-related death. It might be the most detail that I can remember from a dream, likely because I began to verbally recall it within minutes of waking up (thanks Flib for letting me ramble about disturbing weirdness first thing in the morning).

September 07, 2017 Part 1: I was in a club or dance party of some kind. The room was very small, maybe the size and dimensions of a trailer. The room was dark besides multicolored lights, but I could make out the appearances of the partygoers without much trouble. The fashion style of their clothing suggested that the time period was closer to the 70’s or 80’s rather than 2017. A few people down to my right was a tall woman with light skin and blond hair in a ponytail. She wore a long, light gray or tan dress with plain features. She danced along with the rest of the crowd, but I think she also mentioned something about having to leave in time to make it to class. A man appeared from where there was now an obvious door across from where I was standing. He was an older gentleman in a brown trenchcoat, thick-framed glasses, and a brownish hat. He might have spoken to the tall woman, I’m not sure. But his presence was her cue to leave the party for class (I think the implication was that this man was her professor). Before she left, she made a comment along the lines of “and North Korea is going to drop a nuke on us.” Immediately after this was spoken, the room went silent. Everyone stopped dancing, and the overhead lights came on. We all stared at this woman, as though annoyed that she had gone and ruined our fun with her fear-mongering. Being reminded of the troubled political climate made me feel tense and deeply anxious. It was a discomfort that remained even after I woke up.

(Part 2 continues below)

Part 2: A second dream that night was set during a vacation or a road trip. I was with Flib, Flib’s sister (D), Flib’s grandmother, and possibly my brother (E) was with us too, though it seemed like the dream was switching between Flib and E being on the trip.

As it started, we were in a souvenir shop, with all the usual knickknacks for sale: postcards, shirts, keychains with names on them, etc. What I was struggling with was trying to find a gift for my dad’s birthday (though IRL his birthday was several months ago). I didn’t think he would like any of these gift shop items, though I almost bought him a dark blue tie that had some writing embroidered on it with a similar shade of blue. I don’t recall what it said. But even the gifts specifically geared toward fathers weren’t especially great, and I commented to maybe D that it’s particularly difficult when my dad says he doesn’t want anything for his birthday.

The storekeeper then showed us into the back room, which was actually a whole other section of the store, and closed the door behind him. This section of the store was more like a comic book/collectibles department. But a bit more disorganized. Dim lighting, racks of books and games, lightweight card tables under which cardboard boxes were packed with miscellaneous action figures and other memorabilia. I enjoyed looking around all the books and collectibles, particularly the action figures, which were all unboxed and dirty, having seen prior use/wear-and-tear. I thought about buying some for my photography, but decided that they weren’t very posable, and moved on to a box containing lots of small metal badges. Something having to do with a fighting game, like an award or something. At the bottom of the box was a diamond ring with a gold band, which seemed out of place, until I recalled that a marriage proposal was part of the fighting game’s plot. I decided that the ring must not be REAL gold and diamond, just a replica for prop purposes.

I noticed that some of the display boxes featured characters from a video game that I recognized, though was not especially well-known. I asked the shopkeeper about it, and he expressed much genuine interest and trivia: “did you know that the main character was also in [other game]?” I was fascinated, mentioning that I hadn’t, and he went on to show me gameplay of the game in question (I don’t recall what he said the title was).

There was the protagonist, albeit in a more casual, less fantasy-oriented design. A black t-shirt had some white wording on it that was difficult to make out from the pixels (GBA-era, though it was being played on a non-portable console of some kind). I don’t know what the game was about; the gameplay I saw just featured the character walking along dark city streets, or maybe it was a cemetery. At some point, I noticed that Flib’s family had continued on to the next room of the shop, and I still had to go back and buy something for my dad! I felt selfish for forgetting about his birthday while being so caught up in shopping for things in my own field of interest.

I was then back with Flib’s family. We were getting lunch (or was it sorbet?) at a restaurant, taking the food out onto a patio to eat. Wherever this place was, it was a large city, maybe New York, though it had no recognizable landmarks. I could hear a low-flying plane overhead, and said to D that the sound made me extremely uncomfortable (this is also true IRL, and also I should mention that I live close enough to an airport that I often see and hear planes at low altitudes). Flib’s grandma mentioned that, oh yes, we were near a military base, and they must be testing out some new aircraft.

No sooner had she said this than an aircraft appeared overhead across the street from us. I definitely wouldn’t call it an airplane, although it sounded much like one. It was more like a big metal cube, with a big round hole where the engine should be. It seemed to be packed with people, presumably military personnel, who just sat in and around the thing, no seats or restraints of any kind. It looked so unsafe that just LOOKING at it made me deeply afraid. The unit wobbled in midair before tilting on its side and descending out of view with a big CRASH. And then another, similarly shaped craft flew out, this one much more elongated, and painted a shade of blue. Like a flying cargo container, I suppose, but with one side exposed for people to sit with their legs dangling out. This one also crash-landed, but very near to the restaurant, perpendicular with/on the street.

I told Flib and fam that I was done, that I wanted to go home, that we need to leave. Even as we went back through the restaurant and returned to our cars (lots of other bystanders were also evacuating), I kept repeating that: “I want to go home, I don’t want to be here, I’m done, etc.” There were two cars parked, one being Flib’s and one being D’s. I asked them which car I needed to get into to go home. We all got into Flib’s car, and started driving away. On a long stretch of highway trimmed in neon lights, two hovering aircraft flew overhead in quick succession, in the same direction we were headed. They were a little like flying saucers, but with like a yellow glass base that glowed gold. A large black helicopter went the opposite way. I was aware that these were all military craft, and that we would die if we stayed near them (whether they were deliberately attacking us was unclear, more just that the very presence of military hardware was a threat).

We drove along a winding mountain road, passing a number of touristy locations (namely a group of trees carved with cartoonish faces). Flib decided to pull off at one of these stops because, “as long as we’re on a road trip, we’d might as well see everything.” Or something to that effect. I disagreed, but got out of the car. It was a clearing in a wooded area, like a park on top of a mountain. People were seated on benches. A restroom or gift shop was nearby. I checked my phone for Pokemon GO. An Articuno raid was ongoing, but would end in about 10 seconds. I asked Flib and D if they wanted to do it. D declined, Flib was interested, but by the time I tapped on the gym icon, the raid was over. Flib made a frustrated sigh at this.

As the first raid ended, another one appeared: Ho-Oh (who, at the time of writing this, is not yet in the game). I asked Flib and D if they wanted to fight it, and they both did not. I asked aloud to the other tourists, and they replied “NO” in unison. Two young men then appeared from one of the hiking trails, carrying a tray of three pizza slices. “Please help us!” they exclaimed with a grin, indicating that they wanted to fight the raid boss too. Thanks to some dream-weirdness, their phones were what was manifesting as pizza slices. No seriously, we knew they were phones and treated them like phones, but physically they looked like slices of pizza. This is the weirdest (and possibly most disconcerting) thing I’ve ever dreamt.

I told them that I could barely keep up on my own phone, much less try to play on three at once. But by now, more people were gathering, taking slices of pizza (which at this point were a whole pie). I joked with everyone, “oh, NOW you’re interested in playing, huh?” As we prepared to start the battle, one of the tourists, who I didn’t recognize but who sort of resembled a high school friend of mine (J), started introducing me to Flib’s family… as if I didn’t already know them. It was very confusing, because I don’t think any of us knew who this woman was.

Anyway, we were feeling good and about to start the raid, when D’s phone announced a news report. The phone’s voice was like Siri, but it spoke in a sassy, sarcastic way, like it was programmed to be a smartass to the user. The report said something about how people were being transported away with severe injuries, and how there was also some kind of wound or virus in the throats of some of the victims. My heart sank, and the fear returned as I woke up. These dreams both had a theme of being unable to catch a break from an impending violent death.