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niqhtlord01 · 1 month

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Humans are weird: Where Heroes Flew

When Florelia had gone to work today she had expected it to be a day like any other. She’d man her post in orbital control, direct cargo traffic from the spaceport on the surface of the planet to the orbital lanes in the upper atmosphere, and then head to her quarters for the night and binge some trans-system entertainment. She was hoping to catch some of the Dorgan Finals being played out on the surface. The matches had drawn in close to a billion offworlders to the event and was the largest gathering seen on Zenbara in decades.

She was just about to get up for her designated lunch break when she noticed something odd on her tracking monitor. One of the inbound ships was bypassing the waiting que for reentry and was attempting to skip ahead of the waiting ships for reentry.

Putting her headset back on, Florelia flipped through the communication channels until she had the channel for the marked ship.

“Inbound vessel DCN4, return to your position in que.” She transmitted.

No response.

“Inbound vessel DCN4, this is orbital control; return to your position in que immediately.”

Florelia wondered if the ships communicator was broken, but before she could call up an engineer to confirm the inbound vessel suddenly increased speed and began blowing past the que of waiting ships.

“DCN4 cut engines and respond immediately, this is your final warning.”

“You were given many warnings,” a strange voice came back, “and now we are the culmination of all your sins. We are the children of Nu’n and in his name we shall punish the nonbelievers and cleanse them from this universe.”

As the voice continued delivering their speech Florelia ran a scan of DCN4 to confirm its cargo. When the scan came back her eyes went wide and she slammed her fist into the panic button built into her console. Sirens began blaring as her supervisor came over as Florelia opened a direct line to orbital security.

“Security, apprehend ship DCN4 now!” Florelia shouted into her transmitter.

“What’s wrong?” her supervisor asked as he came up to her finally. Florelia turned to let him see her screen.

“I believe DCN4 is under the control of terrorist elements and is loaded with over 900 thousand tons of Genthi explosives.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth did her supervisor tap his com piece in his ear and shout, “Security move your asses now! Grab DCN4 and bring it to a halt.”

Entering in his command codes he then addressed the entire line of waiting ships still in que.

“Attention all vessels, evacuate the area immediately. Divert courses away from lane 71-93; repeat, all vessels evacuate the area immediately!”

Florelia watched on her scanner as the security ships left the station. She watched as they pushed their engines to the max to catch up to the rogue vessel but even at max speed they wouldn’t be able to catch it in time. Calculating the trajectory, the computer predicted that the terrorists were steering themselves directly towards the Dorgan Finals stadium on the planet below.

“Should we issue an evacuation for the stadium?” she asked her supervisor. To her surprise he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t matter. With that much explosives it’ll turn everything within a 500km radius into the world’s largest crater.”

Florelia couldn’t speak as the horror of the situation set in. The devastation about to unfold would be the worst terrorist attack in the known universe.

A sudden beep from her console made Florelia look back and see that while many of the other civilian vessels were scattering one ship had begun moving towards the terrorist ship.

“What in the niv’nar….”

Florelia brought up the information about the secondary contact and saw it was a human mining ship designated the “Jackdaw”.

“Orbital control to human vessel Jackdaw, what are you doing?” Florelia asked as she realigned the transmitter to communicate to the human ship. “You have been instructed to evacuate the area.”

“I thought about it,” A young cheerful voice came back over the radio, “but my pappy taught me that when a robber comes at you you don’t show them the door; you show them your arm.”

Not understanding what the human was talking about she looked up to see the live camera feeds being displayed on the main monitors. DCN4 was long and narrow, while the human Jackdaw was bulky and looked as if it had been welded together with scrap metal.

It looked as if the Jackdaw was going to block DCN4 but as soon as the cargo ship drew close the mining ship ignited its engines and lazily drifted above the cargo vessel as it blew by. As it passed underneath the mining ship Florelia watch as a dozen compartments opened up on the mining ship and grappling arms the size corvettes shot out and latched on to DCN4.

The arms soon went taut and the Jackdaw ignited its engines to full in a dazzlingly bright display of light.

Like a fisherman wrangling a mighty sea creature, the Jackdaw tried to pull the terrorist ship back into orbit and give the security ships a chance to disable the vessel before it could carry out its task. Every set of eyes in the control room was locked to the main monitor as the DCN4 engines burned brighter and the ship veered left and right to try and shake off the Jackdaw.

The security ships had almost made it to DCN4 when several of the grappling arms tore away chunks of DCN4’s hull. Each of the security ships swung to avoid the debris but were struck by the whiplash of the grappling arms and exploded in a cloud of burnt metal. To the horror of orbital control one of the grappling arms swung back and damaged a few of the Jackdaw’s engines as well.

With renewed fervor the terrorist ship began plunging once more into the atmosphere with the Jackdaw still holding on with what few grappling arms remained. Though it refused to let go of the terrorist ship, it was a struggle it could not win.

“Orbital control to Jackdaw, you’ve done everything you can; disengage and get out of there.” Florelia transmitted to the Jackdaw.

“Not everything,” came the reply over the radio, “I got one last trick up my sleeve.”

Florelia was going to ask what they meant when the Jackdaw began retracting the grappling arms while they still held on to DCN4. Slowly the arms pulled the two vessels closer and closer together as new energy warning sirens started off.

“That crazy bastard’s going to make a jump.” Florelia heard her supervisor say in disbelief.

“Jackdaw, if you attempt to make a jump in orbit-“ Florelia began but the human captain cut her off.

“It’s the last trick I got to play lassie.” They said in their chipper tone.

“There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out of the jump intact.” She persisted. “No ship has ever withstood a jump while in a gravity well.”

“First time for everything I suppose.”

The two ships were nearly touching hulls as the Jackdaw’s jump drive neared full power.

“Why are you doing this? You don’t know this world or these people; why give your life for them?”

To her surprise the human captain laughed over the coms.

“When someone’s in trouble you don’t stop to ask for details, you just help them.”

With that the two ships hulls finally touched and the Jackdaw ignited its jump drive. For a moment both ships blurred in and out of the atmosphere as DCN4 desperately tried to free itself from the mining ship’s grasp.

In a final bright flash the two ships made the jump out of the atmosphere, leaving behind a trail of scrap metal that slowly burned away as it fell to the planet below. To the public below it looked as if a series of elaborate fireworks were going off to celebrate the day’s events while those in orbit held a silent vigil for the unknown human captain who had just saved billions of lives.

For all the barbarity the human race has been known for it was easy to forget that there were still those amongst their people who would lay down their lives for strangers without ever needing a word of thanks.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

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maccaronimassacre · 8 months

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Random Ethan Headcanons

A/N: Insomnia strikes again so I’m making more headcanons. Also I love Ethan if you couldn’t tell. I just want to put him in my pocket and feed him Capri suns.

—————————————————————————

Considering that Ethan used to be a software engineer so he was hunched over a computer for hours at a time, his posture is horrific.

Chris probably bought him a posture brace straight after their first training session.

Or knowing Chris he probably landed a blow to Ethan’s back that was so hard it realigned his spine.

100% a Reddit user.

Probably reads a couple of stories and posts to wind down before going to bed every night.

He has definitely said poggers at least once.

Has small nervous tics or fidgets when he’s concentrating on something.

Definitely a nail bitter and a leg bouncer when he is stressed or anxious.

His parents definitely did the soap under the nails method to get him to stop biting his nails when he was a kid.

I can also see Ethan being able to do a bunch of cool tricks with a pen, twirling it around his fingers like it’s a butterfly knife when ever he’s reading or trying to solve something.

Very big on compliments and praise.

Tell him that he’s doing great or even just a simple compliment about his outfit and he’s buzzing with joy for the rest of the day.

He probably doesn’t know how to take them.

He just smiles politely and laughs but internally he’s jumping like a kid on Christmas.

The easiest way to fluster him is to compliment his voice.

Tell him how smooth his voice is and Ethan’s stumbling over his words and blushing furiously.

Because of his dry wit and sarcasm I feel like he’d appreciate British humour.

Loves Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

#ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters headcanons #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil 7 #re7 #re8 #headcanons

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subwaytostardew · 6 months

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Sooooo, what do the twins say when you give them a bouquet then a mermaid's pendant respectively?

Sorry for the delay! I actually hadn't written their dialogue until this ask prompted me to. Partially because it's optional and the vanilla NPCs all share the same generic dialogue strings... We haven't quite posted much nor finished Emmet's heart events yet but well... His relationship progression takes into account that you get the "Best Friends" achievement after reaching 10 hearts.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

▲ Ingo ▲

Bouquet rejection: "Ah! What a lovely gift! Did you grow these yourself? You have my gratitude, @! Though… by the look of your expression… perhaps I am misinterpreting this gesture?"

"AH! Ehem… I-I see you want to become more serious. I apologize for not understanding your intended tracks right away, but I must decline. As much as I enjoy your company, I believe we should refrain from speeding too far ahead of ourselves…"

Mermaid Pendant Rejection: "A mermaid pendant? H-how kind of you to further educate myself on your local customs…"

"A-ah! Y-you intend to couple as a two-car train in m-marriage? I apologize… I believe you are speeding too far ahead of our tracks. I'm not quite ready to conduct such matters at the moment."

Bothering After Rejection A: "Ehem! I've told you, I must refuse. Do not force me to speed ahead on such hasty decisions... Please... Refrain from such requests for the time being..."

Bothering After Rejection B: "I do not recall what would have led your train of thought down those tracks, but if I have done something to make you think otherwise… E-ehem… O-once again, my apologies…"

Bouquet Acceptance: "A-AH! THIS- This is…! Oh dear… Emmet isn't stationed nearby to witness such a display of a-affection, is he?"

"Ah… forget it! I suppose I've repressed my feelings for far too long. You deserve everything and so much more, my dear! From the innermost region of my heart's engine, thank you for taking the initiative with such a lovely bouquet! I will try my best to conduct our love openly and to the fullest, as is right! It is my sworn duty as your b-b-b… b-boyfriend, after all!"

Mermaid Pendant Acceptance: "O-OH…! D-dearest…! Is that…?! I can't believe it… You w-wish to… D-do you really mean… C-could it be? I'm not misinterpreting anything, am I? Is this but a dream? Do you really wish to c-couple as a two-car train… on the tracks set for the station of m-matrimony?"

"AH… I-IS THAT… Is that so… Pardon the interruption, but if it's not t-too much, I request that you wait a moment as I realign my cab in proper operating condition!"

"[Ingo bursts into tears, loudly sobbing as he trembles with- what you know as- a wavering smile on his face. His heartbeat races at full steam. He's so overwhelmed with emotion… His state of elation, the relief of knowing that you share the same dedication to him as he does you… It's all too much for him! Between his choked-up cries, you hear Ingo sputter out proclamations of love and desperate pleas for this moment to not be another mere fantasy alongside stuttered- but loud-'BRAVO's.]"

"A-ah… Ahem! Please, forgive me for the delay! I hope that my sudden outburst didn't set your train of thought on the wrong track! I have never awaited such a journey more than that on our horizon...! Of course, I accept! Thank you… thank you for granting me my most cherished ideal! I promise to pursue even greater heights coupled with you as your h-husband, with no terminal called 'End' in our m-married life together!"

▽ Emmet ▽

Bouquet rejection: "Stop giving me gifts. I am Emmet. I feel bad. Huh? Dating? Absolutely not. I don't really trust you. I don't like those jokes…"

Mermaid Pendant Rejection: "Oh. No. Is this supposed to be a joke? I am Emmet. I remember this. Ingo said those were for marriage proposals. I don't really know you. I don't want you. That's not nice. Don't do that."

Bothering After Rejection A: "What did I say? I said no. Stop that."

Bothering After Rejection B: "Do you think that's funny? I don't. Be serious."

Bouquet Acceptance: "Thank you for the flowers! They are verrry pretty. Is it okay if I press them? I want to keep them forever. I want to keep you forever. You mean so much to me."

"Huh? You want to get more serious? Good. You should. I feel the same way. This is why you're my favorite person. Let's have more fun! Is it okay if I take a picture of us with them? I like keeping reminders that you like me. I love the flowers. Verrry much. But your smile is my favorite gift! Can I have it?"

Mermaid Pendant Acceptance: "You… went out into the rain for me? Are you serious? You're not lying to me, are you? I can trust you. Right?"

"[Emmet stares at you silently with a desperate look in his eyes, teary as he awaits confirmation in his safety check. When you reassure him that you are indeed serious about your love for him, he pulls you into a verrrrry tight hug, smiling into the kisses he presses all over your face.]"

"Mm… I am Emmet. You wanted to marry me, too… I love you. Verrrry much! I'm serious. Really serious. Because if a love isn't serious. It isn't fun. I want to keep having fun with you. Always."

"Hm… You beat me to it! I wanted to propose. But I will not lose again. Our wedding starts in three days. I have everything planned. Be ready. I already set everything up. If your clothes got ruined in the rain. Don't worry. I already prepared an outfit for you. Just bring that perfect smile of yours! We are going to be each other's everything. Verrry soon. Coupled as a two-car train. Our tracks go on forever! I am Emmet. I will be all you'll ever need. I love you! Let's have more fun!"

#mail car connecting line #subway to stardew #submas #ingo #emmet #I don't think you had rejection dialogue in mind but oh well. You get it anyway #My poor grammar checker had to deal with nothing but rejection before I finished writing Ingo's acceptance dialogue just tonight #Subject to change as all dialogue is... I feel like Ingo's bouquet acceptance is missing something. Same with his letters.#I hope my writing suffices for now!#dialogue

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iamstartraveller776 · 2 months

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Fic Title Ask Game

T&T any or all…

“Do you ever miss me?”

“What goes around comes around”

“Realigning the phase coils”

*cracks knuckles* Let's see what I can do here...

Do You Ever Miss Me?

[Canon-Divergence from The Good that Men Do (which I haven't read in many years and don't remember most of)] Trip Tucker, working for Section 31, records a series of messages for T'Pol, outlining his feelings about their complicated relationship. He muses about what he'd do if he makes it out alive, if the Romulan war ever ends. When things are really tough, he sometimes paints a picture of their lives if the universe hadn't interfered. Tagged: drama, angst with a happy ending (BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT IN EVERY INCARNATION, DAGNABIT. NO TRAGEDIES ALLOWED FOR THIS SHIP.)

What Goes Around Comes Around

[Season 4 Canon-Compliant] What happens when a Vulcan learns about the Human custom of pranks? A whole lot of silliness on the NX-01 Enterprise. The crew has started a pool over who's the better prankster: the beloved Florida Man chief engineer or the straight-laced science officer who is surprisingly pulling ahead. Jon endures the antics with long-suffering and the occasional eyeroll. (But his money is on T'Pol). Tagged: humor, shenanigans, maybe even parody

Realigning the Phase Coils

[Season 4 Post-Bound/Terra Prime Canon-Divergence] After the events of Terra Prime, the crew is granted a month-long leave. T'Pol opts not to return to Vulcan; there's nothing left for her there after the death of her mother and the cultural unrest that the discovery of the Kir'Shara has caused. Trip offers for her to join him in visiting what family he has left. It's the least he can do, he says, after she shared her world with him. Together, they navigate a shared grief over the loss of their daughter, open up about their complicated feelings for one another and tentative hopes for the future. Tagged: healing, hurt/comfort, friendship, romance

Thank you so much for sending the ask!! This was fun to do!

#ask games #fic titles #trip x t'pol #talshiargirlfriend #star replies

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messinwitheddie · 2 months

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What is the measuring process steps? How does one get picked to be the next tallest? Surely it can’t be the height alone. There must be some qualities or something like that.

Who built the Colossus? How long did it take to make it? Was this the idea of the ancients?

Has any of the tallest ever call upon irkens that kinda look like them in to their chambers and have them do plays of themselves like a reminder of their past or “what ifs” for example: if Miyuki brings two tall soldiers who somewhat resemble her and Spork.

I have to confess, I have no idea how exactly the imperial measuring process works.

Lazy writing time. (Lazy sketch too. Sorry, still warming up the wrist.)

The steps of the measuring process is information hoarded by the control brains and only shared to the imperial PAK technicians who are assigned to perform the physical steps of the process. The PAK Techs assigned to this task are honorably executed and collected after the process is complete to ensure the information stays classified.

The tallest measured drone put through the process is heavily drugged and forced to fixate on the cintrol brains while their PAKs/ collective minds directly links up, so the most a tallest remembers when the process is over is the chant which roughly translates to English as,

"Let fire become white Dislodge the joints Stretch them Let fire burn star bright Break the back Let them stand with towering might Realign them Destroy to rebuild them stronger than ever To our will be true Let the ALMIGHTY TALLEST rule on."

It's three different chants recited at once, so it's difficult to remember the exact recitation, but that's roughly it.

So apparently the process involves "dislodging the joints" and "breaking the back", stretching the body to its limits then somehow surgically making the stretching permanent.

The process does cause long lasting damage, a lifetime of chronic pain. But with it comes almost unlimited wealth and power, so the drawbacks are manageable.

Red and Purple were tricky because they had to be stretched out to exactly the same height.

Sadly no, traditional Irken culture demands that the tallest drone rule. There are no further qualifications. Sounds ridiculous to us, but imagine how ridiculous we would sound explaining a monarchy system or to them.

The Colossus was built centuries after Behemotta, tallest of tallests, fell in in battle [Actually, she suffocated to death under her own mass and her corpse was used as a prop/ puppet to intimidate an enemy army, but that's a story for another day.]

Soon after she fell panic and chaos erupted through the ranks of her armies. The super hive Behemotta united over her lifetime broke apart into separate entities. Maps were redrawn. Many innocents were assassinated in pursuit of a new order including any of Behemotta's smeets who had not died in battle already.

Seemingly overnight entire drone populations were deceived into submitting to the rule of tall standing and high ranking former generals claiming to rule in Behemotta's name or in Behemotta's spirit or by the last wishes of Behemotta ect.

And it kept getting more and more out of hand from there.

The labor forces of at least 5 allied hive-nations, but possibly several others, were commissioned to construct the Colossus. Tons upon tons of stone was imported, stacked, sculpted and smoothed to a perfection the Irken species has never been able to replicate since. The indestructible wings and eyes they fused to the monolith were carved from six massive full-spectrum diamonds, priceless in the greater galaxies. The Colossus was somehow designed, built and positioned to never erode. It is a mystery and a marvel.

The construction of the Colossus took nearly a thousand years of nonstop labor. Trillions of service drones, architects, engineers and artisans lost their lives to breathe life into the fallen Behemotta's memory.

But the memory was twisted into a new narrative; Tall drones are mighty. The tallest drone is the mightiest and rules over you. Small drones are insignificant and exist to serve small drones. Tall drones should always be acknowledged, respected, feared and obeyed.

Behemotta would HATE the Colossus if she were still alive to see it. She would consider it an eyesore and a huge waste of time, energy and resources. Psychologically, the version of Behemotta the Colossus portrays would wound her.

The Colossus is really nothing more than ancient Irken propaganda solidifying a very toxic cultural mindset; one the real Behemotta would have never approved of or enforced.

Tallest miniarure lookalike contests have been a common and very popular thing in Irken culture since the mid first era, both official and unofficial.

Official contests are streamed publicly. If time allows, the Tallest will host the contest. The Tallest's corridinator is placed in charge of sifting through the photos, measurements and stats of contestants until a winner is chosen.

It's not unusual for the tallest to hire the winning lookalike drone for reasons that you described; to act out fantasies or revisit pre-measuring fond memories or to relieve boredom, ect.

As established previously, Tallest Cini had a mini double, Maraschino. Dava's modern mini double was hired to narrate the mandatory educational video on Irken fertility and emergency live birth protocol that medically confirmed fertile drones are forced by law to attend. (Irken women dread watching it).

Spittle hired a mini double to act as a Rosie the Riveter- type poster character promoting cadets to sign up to be trained and encoded into the empire's maintenance labor forces. Construction, repair and sanitation work was in extremely high demand during his reign.

Tallest mini doubles are required to sign an NDA when hired. Tallest minis are dressed up and played with like a barby doll. It seems like a fun little luxury, but sometimes tallests regret hiring doubles to act out fantasies. It can lead to open wounds and stir up feelings of resentment or jealousy.

Tallest miniatures are usually 4'9 and under. The reputations of service drones are of no importance to Tallests usually. High ranking drones are too risky to hire depending on what the mini double is hired to do.

[Mem "Late Miyuki did actually hire a lookalike double for her personal chambers when I served as her coordinator. Mochi was her name, I think. I only worked with her a few times, but I remember she was a sweet drone. Funny too.

Miyuki ordered me to search for a mini double for Spork too, but by the time I found one, she had already fired Mochi and never brought up the subject again. Not sure why. Mochi was her perfect double, lucky little pixy. Guess she didn't cheer Miyuki up as we had all hoped. It was a shame. I really liked her."]

(Was trying to make "flirtatious" speech bubbles for Mem and Mochi because I can't write flirty dialogue to save my life)

#invader zim #irken #lore #head canons #measuring process #tallest miyuki #ocs #mem #behemotta

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foxymoley · 1 year

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Blind Date?

Dean/Castiel

Charlie and Sam

General Audiences

1.3k

Thank you to @tobythewise for the beta ♥

Charlie and Sam scheme together to set up Dean and Cas on a blind date. (au: No Supernatural)

- - - -

"Come on, Dean! You haven't been out in months!" Sam could hear himself whining but desperate times and all that. "What have you got to lose?"

Dean huffed and obviously tried to avoid looking into Sam's big brown puppy dog eyes. Sam had been practising just for this.

"No, dude." Dean slashed a defiant hand through the air. "It's not gonna happen!"

"But, Deeeaaan…"

"No!" Dean started to stalk away down the corridor to his room.

"He's just your type!" Sam smirked when Dean stopped in his tracks.

"What?" Dean's face had turned pink as he slowly turned to face Sam and he gulped. "He?" He

squeaked.

Sam was speechless for a second. Surely Dean didn't think he hadn't noticed his own brother's proclivities.

"Yeah? He's friends with Charlie-"

"Charlie's friends with everyone in town." Dean interjected, and Sam ignored him.

"-single, your age, Charlie says he's dreamy."

Dean shook his head, obviously sweeping past the fact he'd basically just come out, and turned away again.

"Dark hair, tall, blue eyes…?" Sam continued desperately and Dean stopped again. Sam watched him reluctantly take a few steps towards him, interest clear on his face and Sam knew he had him.

"Yeah? He funny? Smart? What does he do?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes.

"Uh, don't know if he's funny but he must be smart because he teaches at KU."

Dean's face did an odd little twitch thing then went blank. Sam had no idea his brother went for the academic type but it's not the first time Dean has surprised him and it won't be the last.

"Sounds like he's way outta my league, Sammy." Dean patted him on the shoulder and moved to leave again.

Sam couldn't believe this. Dean is an engineer, owner of his own business, who not only raised Sam, raised him to be kind, polite and a damn lawyer. He didn't give himself enough credit for the things he's achieved. Time to pull out the hail Mary.

"I'll pay!" Sam called out. Dean didn't stop again but he threw his hands into the air and sighed.

"Fine! Someplace nice!" Dean agreed and Sam immediately pulled out his phone to make a reservation at the nicest place in their small town and let Charlie know his part of the mission was accomplished.

💙💚

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

Charlie kept her eyes glued to the screen as her thumbs danced over the controller.

"When was the last time you went on a date?"

"Wednesday," Cas intoned flatly, also keeping his attention on Rainbow Road.

"Oh, haha, very funny!" Charlie giggled. Cas was great, really great but he didn't exactly do normal humany type things. He'd been raised pretty isolated by a bunch of assholes so when Charlie had met the weirdo, she'd taken him under her own weird wing and adopted him like every good extrovert should do. "Would you like to?"

"With you? No." Cas replied and Charlie snorted inelegantly.

"No, I mean, like, a blind date maybe?" Charlie asked carefully as she narrowly avoided a thrown green shell.

"Still no."

"Come on, dude. He's awesome! He's smart, funny, owns his own engineering business…" She violently twisted her controller as if it would help her turn a tight bend. "I think you'd like him."

"Is he hot?" Cas asked bluntly and Charlie turned to look at him with her mouth open. She ignored her Princess Peach character flying over the edge of the road in favor of staring at him, gobsmacked.

He didn't look back until the race was over then he smirked at her.

"What? I can be shallow sometimes too, you know. I'm not looking for a boyfriend but a lay might be nice." He shrugged and Charlie had to mentally realign for a second.

"He's tall, pretty enough to turn even my head, green eyes, big shoulders…um…what else do guys like? Nice arms?" Charlie tried but Cas didn't look impressed.

"Does he know he's being set up?" Cas raised his eyebrow and she knew she looked guilty as fuck.

"Not yet." she said quietly, "but his little brother is pretty good at persuading him."

"Oh, that's wonderful. A blind date against their will," Cas raised a very sarcastic thumbs up and smiled sardonically.

Charlie fidgeted, time to bring out the blue shell.

"I'll pay!" Charlie blurted out and Cas rolled his eyes.

"Fine." He sighed. "I'll go but you have to drive me. I don't want to leave my car there overnight." Cas said then surprised her again by waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Fine." Her phone dinged with a message from Sam telling her he'd done his bit, closely followed by reservation details. She huffed at the restaurant because it was the best in town, Dean must have really put up a fight.

A few days later, Charlie pulled up to the main door of the restaurant in her little yellow beetle and watched, amused, as Cas unfolded himself out onto the sidewalk.

"Alright, Cas. Leave this on the table so he knows who you are." She handed him a small hardback book of Keats. "I'm going to hang back a little bit, just in case he's bailed. Text me if you need rescuing, although I really don't think you will. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She winked at his frowning face and pulled away from the curb. She drifted into a parking spot near the big black car she recognised as belonging to the Winchesters and waited.

Sam climbed out first, gave her a sneaky little wave then leaned down to speak through the window, presumably to his brother. He waved his hands around a bit and Dean finally got out of the car himself. He was looking smart in neat slacks and a dark button down. Charlie mentally facepalmed as he was still wearing his boots. She was sure Castiel wouldn't mind though. Sam gestured back at her and she gave a cheerful double thumbs up at Dean when he peered at her through the windshield. He rolled his eyes and gave his best grumpy face, which, she would never tell him, was downright adorable.

She rolled down her window.

"Oh, Dean, he'll have a book on the table." She told him sweetly then leant over and opened the passenger door for Sam as Dean headed into the restaurant.

"Hey, Sam, how'd it go? Cas was a pain in the ass. I had to offer to pay." She shook her head sadly but Sam laughed.

"Don't worry, we'll split it. I had to offer the same thing!"

The two had an unrestricted view of the whole seating area through the window and watched as Dean walked in and shared a few words with the hostess. She pointed to Cas where he sat and Dean rushed towards the table. Charlie approved when Castiel stood politely but Dean wasn't slowing down. She watched in horror as Dean raised his hands, cupping Castiel's face in his big palms and going in for a kiss. She could see the tongue action from here.

"What the fuck?" Charlie said breathlessly.

"What the fuck?" Sam said at the same time, just as breathless.

They looked at each other, then back at the window where Castiel had responded enthusiastically and they now stood making out, oblivious to the other patrons, then looked back at each other.

A couple of minutes passed in silence as the two in the car did their best fish impressions and the two in the restaurant finally sat down, grinning at each other. Dean and Cas both pulled out their phones then a couple of seconds later Sam's phone pinged, then Charlie's.

- Hey, bitch. Meet my boyfriend. Thanks for the credit card, I'll be having seconds and the whisky from the top shelf I never let myself get. 😈 -

- Hello, Charlie. I think you've already met my boyfriend of the last eight months. Thank you for your credit card. I promise to not take advantage. 😇 -

Sam and Charlie looked up as one and watched Dean and Cas give them a little wave.

"Son of a bitch."

#Blind date #Fic let #Destiel #Dean/Cas #Dean winchester #Castiel #Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Charlie Bradbury

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vampyrsm · 2 years

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'time flies.' (part two) (4k)

[Part One] | [Part Two]

(cw): tiny amount of angst with a happy ending, open ending, fluff, lovers to exes to ???, again all characters are 18+, ph!bakugo katsuki

'Suspect is heading westbound, currently 5 possible villains inside of a white pickup truck.' The voice of your sidekick crackled over the earpiece.

"On it. Prepare to alert the authorities, if there are 5 or more in there then this could turn messy. Keep me updated on anything new." you commanded back, getting an affirmative noise before the earpiece fell silent.

You adjusted your hands slightly, black leather gloves squeaking against the grips of your motorbike handles, the sound of its engine being pushed harder roared down the street. Civilians watching the tell-tale sign of the hero Zeal with the purple streak that followed after you with every bob and weaves through the traffic.

Your body was moulded to the motorbike, it wasn't often you'd be using it but it made a nice change every once and while to the running. It also was good for car chases if you had to. The bright lights of the city blurred into one continuous rainbow of energy as you leaned closer to the ground to perform a reckless sharp turn around a street corner to just rocket back down the street. You had to cut these guys off before they hit the highway.

Every now and again you'd receive information of them switching streets, moving further and further away from their starting point. You revved the engine one more time, a purple light wisping around the bike before you adjusted slightly to accommodate for the increase in speed, your front wheel bounced back down on the tarmac before you were again dodging ongoing traffic. As you passed by an alleyway you got the perfect view of the white pickup truck on the street over to yours, their driving was erratic and the sirens weren't far behind. Clicking your tongue you did another sharp turn, barrelling through an alleyway.

People froze in place when they heard the loud roar of an engine coming from the side street, and then with wide eyes, they watched as you soared through the air on your bike. The camera crews in the helicopters following the high-speed chase zoomed in on you, watching the way you manoeuvred the bike as if it were just an extension of your body. You tugged hard on the handlebar, the wheels screeching against the tarmac and with a wobbly realignment you were directly on the tail of the suspects.

Unbeknownst to you, you had one very interested viewer watching you. Bakugo sat back on his large expensive black sofa, one arm hooked over the back and the other nursing a protein shake to support his late night workout, a towel hung around his neck and he settled onto the sofa just for a bit of downtime.

His finger clicked through the channels rapidly, ignoring every shitty soap opera and even shittier romance movie that popped up until he heard "And it looks like Zeal--" he furrowed his eyebrows, did he hear that right? He flicked back to the previous channel, and sure enough, he watched as you realigned on your bike. He couldn't stop the way his heart swelled, you kept the bike he got you as a present. If he focused hard enough he could even see the signature he had engraved on it, it was his own. "Dynamight & Zeal". It was very cliche, very sappy but he remembers the way you smiled, jumping up and down on the spot as he indulged you in your dream of having a motorbike.

And damn, you looked good on it too. He saw you ride it a handful of times but never seen you in a high-speed chase, never seen you slowly aligning yourself up perfectly and your feet slotting onto the seat of the bike perfectly. His heart clenched, there's no fucking way you were about to do what he thought you were.

"Don't fuckin' do it Z..." he growled low to himself, his hand clenching the back of the sofa as he watched you do the very thing he wished you weren't.

Your feet pushed off of the back of the seat, and a subtle wave of your hand directed your bike safely off of the oncoming traffic and into a side street where it couldn't be seen. You soared through the air, a purple streak following you before you landed against the roof of the van with a loud thud that caused the van to correct its driving for a second.

You stood up slowly, taking sure but slow steps along the roof of the moving vehicle whilst making sure you didn't get sent flying off into the cars behind. You dropped down onto the lower compartment of the driving bay, you dropped down onto your knees and slammed a built-up fist of energy against the driver's side window. There was a loud yell before a scream as you yanked the driver from the window, launching him backwards away from the car but not without making sure he was bolted down to the floor with your energy until the authorities got to him.

You smiled a little before it dropped, you felt the van weave uncontrollably as you looked up just in time, and your eyes went wide. You crossed your arms over your head, covering you in complete darkness until the loud cracking sound was over. You looked back to see the perfect hole your body had made in the concrete bridge you just went under, or rather through. Shit, another bill you'll have to pay.

Another swerve of the van got your attention and you adjusted your footing, leaping off of the van roof and landing on the front of it. You could see the panicked look of the criminals on the inside, some of them raised their guns in your direction but their bodies jolted forward when you planted your hands into the metal of the van and there was a bright surge of energy that built from your toes and upwards. You dipped down, letting your feet hit the tarmac and you felt the familiar burn in your hamstrings as you tensed up your entire body, your hands kept a tight hold of the van before you swung it out and around, the van crumpled beneath your strength and landed on its side.

Anyone else would've thought this was a reckless move but they didn't see the protective bubble of energy you put around the van, it was very subtle and only could see by the pulsing purple that would appear every now and again.

Bakugo felt like he couldn't breathe, you had always been so reckless but he couldn't lie and say you didn't look like the coolest fucking hero he had ever seen. You were moving up the ranks for a reason, and fast. You were beautiful, talented, extremely heroic, strong, beautiful-- fuck, he's getting distracted again.

He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands as if that would somehow wipe away all the thoughts he was having. He perked back up at the sound of your voice, you were slightly out of breath from the overexertion of your quirk but he couldn't look away from the smile plastered on your face.

"So Zeal, with your number of rescues and takedowns skyrocketing in the past month. Do you think you'll be able to take over the number one spot from Pro Hero: Dynamight?" the reporter asked, putting the microphone back in your face as you stared at the ground to process the question but you squinted, a flash of something in your eyes didn't go missed by Bakugo until you put back on your hero face, all smiles and a soft laugh.

"Ahh, I don't know. Dynamight is a formidable hero, I don't think I can knock him off the top spot." Bakugo smirked, not because he was cocksure about his spot but because he knew with your determination you could do it, you could take the number one spot from him and he wouldn't even give a shit because you deserved it.

"No need to be so modest Zeal. In fact, in a recent interview with Dynamight himself--" Bakugo froze, his lips ghosting the lip of his shaker as he stared with wide eyes at the T.V. Fuck, fuck, no. That interview wasn't meant to reach you. "--He said that and I quote: 'One of the best heroes out there, and if anyone deserves the number one spot it's Zeal'. Are you and Dynamight good friends?"

Bakugo felt like his life might've just ended by the way you paled on the screen except for the blush that tipped your ears that was just about hidden behind your windswept hair and the soft glow across your cheekbones.

"Dynamight said that? Ha, I imagine you had to edit that down a lot." he watched you laugh but it sounded far away like you were thinking before speaking again "And uh, we were friends. Great friends actually, back in our U.A days. But time and work drifted us apart." he furrowed his eyebrows at your choice of words. 'Great friends'. You were more than that, weren't you? Is that all you saw it as? He ran a frantic hand through his spiked hair as he watched you wave off with a short salute and retreat back towards the police line to finish up.

He switched the T.V. off, sitting in silence as he narrowed his eyes to look over the bright night city skyline, you were out there somewhere and it made him ache to know you weren't here. Chewing on his bottom lip, he swiped up his phone that was discarded on the seat next to him and swiped until he found your number. Instinctively pressing the call number, he tucked it against his ear and listened to ring.. and ring.. and ring.. until he heard the "Hey, I'm not at the phone right now. Just leave a message or whatever, maybe I'll get back to you.", he shut off the call before it could beep.

He clicked his tongue, figuring you were tied up with hero work still and probably heading home. He got up from the sofa, stretching his arms up above his head until he heard the soft crack in his shoulders before he rolled them. His footsteps were heavy on the pristine dark wood floorboards as he headed into the kitchen, the lights flickering to life the second he passed under them. He eyed the skyline once again, shaking his head as if to shake away the thoughts of you before he got to work on his dinner.

Some time passed, the soft sizzling sound of his food on the stove and the strong smell of spices and other ingredients filling the air. Bakugo had a towel tossed over one shoulder, thumb swiping through his social media feed to see all the news about your recent takedown and the comments from his fellow heroes. Rolling his eyes at the comments from Deku 'Nice job Zeal!! We should work together more!', muttering a 'shut the fuck up Deku' to himself he was ripped out of his own bubble by the sound of the electronic ringing of his doorbell.

With furrowed eyebrows, he switched his stove down to a low simmer and dropped the towel onto the counter before making his way over to the door. "--This best not be some fuckin' sale pitc--" his words died in his throat as he ripped open the door, eyes filled with fury quickly snapping down to the smaller figure in his doorway.

With a black sleek helmet tucked against a hip, his eyes scanned over your features. You looked lost, bewildered almost at how you even ended up here.

"Z?" he questioned softly, one hand tightly wrapped around the door as he leaned on it for support.

The nickname seemed to snap you out of your daze, you stammered a little before clearing your throat "Did you mean it, Kats?" your voice was so soft, something he had only had the chance of hearing when you two were alone, in each other's arms. He had to blink him out of his reveries, clearing his throat with a quick furrow of his eyebrows.

"Did you really what you said in that interview?" he watched the way your eyes finally flicked up to meet his, that soft purple glow in your eye indicating you used your quirk to get here.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" he gruffed out, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady and eyes unwavering as he stared down at you but he couldn't help the way his heart was racing. You looked so beautiful, still windswept from your villain takedown, with a graze above your eyebrow and some dirt on your hero outfit.

You shook your head softly 'no', sniffling a little as if you were trying your hardest to hold everything in. "Uh, I just wanted to say thank you I guess.." your voice was meek now, eyes darting to look past his arm for a second into his apartment before meeting his eyes again. "Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt your night or anything, I should actually just go." he watched the way your chest heaved more, words becoming more blurred together and breathless.

He furrowed his eyebrows together, had you actually rushed here fresh from a fight? "You're fine, c'mon. Come sit for a while, your adrenaline is starting to die now and you're gonna crash." he side-stepped out of the way, holding the door effortlessly with one hand and gesturing with his head for you to walk in.

Everything in your mind was telling you 'no, don't walk back in here.' yet your feet moved by themselves, ducking under his arm until you were standing in the short hallway that led into the open-plan apartment. He closed the door behind you, stepping around you before heading back towards the kitchen as if it were completely normal. But in reality, Bakugo's heart was beating so loud he hoped you couldn't hear it, his hands felt extra sweaty like he was some teenager again so he gave a quick pat down on his joggers to rid the excess sweat as he headed back into the kitchen.

It wasn't much longer when he recognised the soft patter of your feet, he spared a glance over his shoulder as he stirred the food in the pot and eyed your hero costume, it felt so domestic to see you here - in his apartment, his kitchen in an outfit that you put on for the public but here he could see the dark circles under your eyes, the light scarring on your biceps and shoulders from overusing your quirk.

You slid into one of the stools on the island, elbows pressed against the cool marble to support your head. Your palms dug into your forehead as you stared downwards, he wasn't kidding about the adrenaline crash. It was a high-speed chase, a lot of energy spent trying to stop that car and any causalities, it wiped you out and you were running dangerously low.

So many thoughts were running through your mind. Bakugo really meant what he said, it was almost impossible to get praise from someone like Bakugo - but for him to declare publicly that you deserve the number one spot when he had worked so hard for it? It felt like you were gifted a diamond but why? Why did he say something he knew that would make your heart swell, he knew how hard you worked yourself.

Both you and Bakugo were pillars for each other throughout high school and starting out in the hero world but when push came to shove, neither of you was able to keep up the relationship in a healthy way and once you both had agreed to break it off, he skyrocketed to number one and you steadily climbed the ranks by yourself.

The clinking of china on the marble countertop snapped you from your thoughts, you hastily lifted your head to meet Bakugo's eyes for a second before he pointed with a finger. "Eat up, you need the energy." you eyed the food for a second, blinking as if it were a foreign object before it clicked in your mind that he had to split his meal with you.

"Oh, wait, no. This is your food, you were cooking for yourself." you tried to decline his food before he gave you a sharp glare over his shoulder that meant he wasn't budging from it. So you huffed, picking up the chopsticks he offered you and watched as he leaned on the island countertop across from you with his own bowl and chopsticks.

You spared a glance up at him, watching the way he delicately twirled the noodles around his chopsticks before eating. It felt surreal to be back here, it was as if no time had passed at all except for the apparent money he had now with such a beautiful apartment. You both ate in a semi-comfortable silence, the gentle noise of the radio on in the background and the faint honking of the streets of Japan below the penthouse.

"I'm sorry." you managed to squeak out, earning an eyebrow raise from the blonde as he inspected you.

"What for? For eating my food? I already told you dumbass--"

"For everything." you got out quick enough before he ranted about the food. He remained quiet for a few seconds, eyes darting back and forth as if trying to read your mind before he spoke again you beat him to it "I'm sorry for how things ended up between us, I'm sorry for snapping at you the other week. I just-- I just.." you stuttered, shaking your head as if the words coming from your mouth were ridiculous.

"You can tell me anything, Z, you know that right?" the nickname got your eyes to flick back up to his before you nodded a little.

"I just don't deserve your praise. I don't deserve the number one spot or any spot. Everyone says I'm a bad hero, reckless, stupid. I was thinking of announcing my retirement." you spat out, each word feeling like a bullet wound directly in Bakugo's heart as he watched your eyes swell with tears and how you tugged on your fingers anxiously.

"I should just give up, right? I mean, no one works with me anymore. People don't buy Zeal merch, 'cos who would want such a shitty reckless hero?" you sniffled, the tears now rolling freely but you didn't look sad, not entirely. Bakugo could see the anger in your eyes, the disappointment.

"Y'done?" he finally spoke after you rubbed your wrists against your eyes, watching as you peered over them. He sighed a little, crossing his arms over his chest once he placed his empty bowl down on the counter. "You want my honest opinion?" he raised an eyebrow, sharp eyes narrowed in your direction. You nodded your head, fiddling with the belt of your hero costume.

"I think you should shut the fuck up," he growled out, his deep voice and intense words making you snap your head up in his direction with wide eyes. "You should shut the fuck up and stop listening to a bunch of fuckin' extras. Did I not teach you better? None of them matter. What matters is the lives you save, and the smiles on those faces when you offer them a shoulder to lean on. You're a great fucking hero and I meant what I said.

You are so strong. Sure you're reckless but that's what makes you fuckin' great, no-one else in your district has more takedowns, more arrests and rescues. Z, you're a great fuckin' hero and everyone is stupid as fuck for not seeing your potential like I do. Like I always have." his voice grew quiet with the last few words, his gaze snapping away from your wide-eyed shocked expression.

He took your silence for a bad thing as he quickly glanced back at you, ready to bark out some comment to cover up the soft words he said but they never left his mouth when he saw the way you had a hand clasped over your mouth, silent sobs shaking through your body. He had always known you struggled with confidence, always struggled with accepting that you were great and he had to shake you around a few times to make sure you remembered. His heart was shattering in your chest with each heavy intake of air you took, the hot fat tears spilling over your hands.

He opened his mouth to speak again, to apologise for making you cry but nothing left his mouth again and instead his feet were moving, carrying him around to your side of the counter. He enveloped you in both of his arms, your face smushed into his black t-shirt before a muffled sob was actually heard. Your hands clenching at the sides, tugging on it gently as you openly cried into your ex-boyfriend's shirt.

"Don't give up Z." he hushed into your hair, stroking a large hand through it.

Some time passed, with just Bakugo gently smoothing over your hair and whispering gentle quiet praises into your hair whilst your sobs slowly died down into occasional hiccups and sniffles. He felt you shift a little in his arms, he recoiled his head back a little and met your red eyes as you peered up at him.

Fuck, he loved you. He was absolutely smitten with you. He reached the hand from your hair around to your cheek, gently hooking his fingers against you as his thumb rolled over your cheekbone to wipe away the tears whilst his eyes inspected every part of your face up-close. You had matured since you were last in his arms like this, you looked beautiful, like a real woman. And Bakugo looked more grown-up, he didn't scowl or snarl nearly as much and his eyes were tired now.

He felt the subtle way you leaned into his hand and watched how your eyelids drooped slightly with the sudden wave of tiredness that swept over your body. It was like second nature to Bakugo when he leaned down, his lips brushing against your own for confirmation of what he was about to do, he felt you lean more into him instead of pulling away, felt your hands cling a little tighter to the sides of his t-shirt.

His lips finally connected with yours, and it felt like all that time away from each other never happened. All that pain was brushed away with just a simple, gentle kiss on the lips. He continued to layer kisses onto your lips slowly until they started to become longer and slowly more intimate. He could taste how much you wanted his lips on yours, feel the way you eagerly chased after him whenever he pulled back slightly.

With a soft push of his forehead on yours, he held you close before speaking against your lips "Promise me that you won't give up." your eyes flicked from his lips and up to his eyes quickly, his breath beating against your face with each soft pant.

"Promise," you whispered back against his lips before you were the one to lean in this time, lips locking with each other until he stroked his tongue along your bottom lip which you happily accepted. It wasn't like how it used to be; full of erotic energy, full of lust and desire. This was desperate in a different way, desperate for love, so needy for each other's touch whilst you stroked your tongue along the roof of his mouth before he pushed a little harder, open-mouth kisses being the only sound to fill the kitchen.

↳ [masterlist]

reblogs & likes appreciated!

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flowers-of-io · 7 months

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the true and the dead

Destinytober 2023: Dreadnaught & Sword Logic // Read on Ao3

FEAR. There is no fear. We do not fear. GRIEF. There is no grief. I will not grieve. PITY. There is no pity. There is nothing to pity. GRAVE. He will have no grave. We do not dig graves. ROT. He rots beneath the waves. —Sororicide: Xivu Arath—Antigone Drowns

Savathûn comes to the Dreadnaught while it is still buzzing like a hatchery, full of noise and commotion bordering on hysteria. Pitiful remains of the Court flee to greener pastures among the chaos and gunfire of a three-way war. The Sea of Screams strains and moans, realigning itself around the vacancy where Oryx’s will used to be, the fraying Ascendant layer of the Dreadnaugh tautening over its physical frame and desperately fighting to retain its own shape. The void of space slipping through the hull breach and sucking the air out of chambers and hallways tastes like burnt chitin with a hint of panic. Guardians and Cabal and Hive and confused Taken scuffle for ground amid the still smouldering rubble. And over it all a pervading sense of doom, choking-thick and lachrymating like smoke, and like smoke hanging under the tall ceilings among dying stars.

Savathûn moves through the ship unseen, shrouding herself in shadows and silences. Even her own power is attracted by the vacancy and she strains to keep it concealed from whatever leftover Ascendants might still sense it, few as they are amid the utter chaos of a court in its death throes. She disregards the battles raging in what seems like every tunnel and alcove. She walks past the piles of corpses and splatters of gore all over the ancient architecture, the bullet-riddled walls and toppled columns. Thrall and Acolytes and an occassional Knight rush past by her, and do not notice her at all.

To the Hive, love is death. Or, more precisely, it is killing: the constant, furious endeavour to maim, to sharpen, to take a life. To take what won’t be given, so that no one else could. To kill—it is the greatest act of mercy, the greatest devotion.

She’s been robbed of that opportunity. But she is not one to squander chances, so she’ll take what she can get. For starters, she takes the offering pillars from the Hall of Souls. They will look good in her hallways, she figures; maybe she’ll find a way to reverse-engineer the portal technology Oryx had going on there. She tears through his archives and liberates ancient artefacts from his vaults. She takes the preserved specimen of the countless races he conquered and samples of rocks and flora from the planets he pulverised. She helps herself to the two Tablets of Sorrow she can locate; the rest she supposes are somewhere out there orbiting Saturn along with his body. She scours the ship for the Willbreaker, but it is nowhere to be found. This perhaps stokes her rage the most—for a moment she is drowning in it, blazing with a searing, childish fury that they’ve taken the sceptre but not assumed the throne, that they wouldn’t even give him this much grace, that he’s out there calcifying in the frigid void even though she’d warned him, and—

Her talons dig into the meat of her palms. She sounds like Xivu. She takes a steadying breath and begins to peel the crumbling painted fabrics off the walls with careful hands.

The Threshold is where she goes last.

She’s not quite sure what she was expecting. Pools of blood on the ground? A crater? Part of the ship torn off and reduced to a flurry of debris? She stands at the edge and looks down at the monstrous bulk of Saturn, the opaque layers of gas and swirling cyclones drowning the planet in a never-ending storm. She wonders if it has swallowed him up already.

He must have been unbearably smug about it, in his final moments. He was proven right! Xivu should be so proud of him, Savathûn thinks bitterly—there should be nothing but joy, nothing but celebration of how just and right and good this was, how majestic and how deserved. He’d been glad to die, hadn’t he? She stares at the dull brown surface of the giant below, strains her back, and almost wishes he had died afraid.

He would be laughing at her now, if there existed a place he could’ve gone to laugh at her from. He always said she was too much of a contrarian for her own good. He’d have rather died strangled by his own philosophy than admitted he was wrong, and Xivu would gladly follow right after. She thinks herself so clever for wanting to hang his killers on those same gallows, so righteous and mature. She will probably smile as she dies as well.

Vengeance. Savathûn scoffs. There is nothing to avenge, and if Xivu Arath was as devoted to her logic as she thinks she is she would accept that. Oryx got what he wanted in the end, and the only regret they can have is their own misplaced belief that he was not, in fact, an idiot. There is no use overthinking this, either in terms of sword logic or common sense. Furious, she throws her head back and stares at a crystalline lamp to chase the tears away.

She doesn’t stay there long, because she’s done everything she wanted to here and she’s got other matters to attend to, of which her worm kindly reminds her. Besides, she is not one to rain on her dear brother’s parade, even if he’s not there anymore to attend it himself. He would be so thrilled by the devastation the aftershocks of his death have been causing. By no means would she stop him from enjoying the unique opportunity of becoming wormfood.

Aiat.

#destinytober #destinytober 2023 #my fics #aunt savathûn #the navigator #destiny 2 #keeping up with the osmium dynasty

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zibethrose · 2 months

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Happy Thursday kindred souls. Wishing you health and happiness. Realign your thoughts to change your paradigm by going inward to divest yourself of untruths. Let your thoughts build you not break you by aligning your heart and mind to switch your challenges into opportunities🤗

Recalibrate yourself with positivity. Keep what is necessary and rid yourself from all the superfluous things that is hampering your life and adds no joy to your existence. Starting afresh means creating anew, as You can't generate a new beginning clinging to an old attitude.You are spirit, you are not your mind. Embrace soul-truth for conscious growth. Clear the mind from misgivings and doubts to uncover your truth which helps you to discern the scent of the path to continue your journey with certainty, knowing who you are and where you need to be.Life lessons are engineered to rock us into consciousness to unveil the sacred truth of our being. Let go of fear, be done with it to heal and return to yourself.

Please like, share, subscribe and follow me @ www.zibethrose.com

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jeswii · 9 months

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Recently rewatched season 4 of CW Supergirl and am watching season 5 right now and there are things that I'm noticing:

Season 4 really is the best season of this show and I will stand by that.

I'm still a Brainia stan

It's still concerning how no one really seemed to care how Brainy was acting when he was realigned

They keep talking about Noah's flood like it's a real event that happened and that really threw me off.

Over half of Lena's problems would be solved if she took a course on medical ethics and the reasons behind the red tape of developing products for human use.

(This isn't Lena hate, I do love her but as a biomedical engineering student it is so funny to see her jump to human trials like that's a normal thing to do. Then develop something to make people have super powers without considering the implications of the technology. And then moves on to trying to rewrite the brain because she did not learn from the last experiment at all.)

I am on Lena's side that it's pretty fucked up how long Kara held off on telling her she was Supergirl. Her entire friend group knew, it was not a well kept secret. But Kara would put Lena's life in danger to keep this secret consistently. There was no reason to see a woman who consistently told you see was afraid of being lied to and decided as someone who was a secretly a superhero that becoming her best friend was a good idea.

The obsidian north VR tech is still so goofy. I get it's comic book logic, but why are the VR lenses capable of overriding people's minds?

#supergirl #cw supergirl #arrowverse #kara danvers #lena luthor #again this isn't hate to any of the characters #this show is just a bit goofy #I still love it

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hanro50 · 1 year

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The ruins #0:Prelog

While humanity mostly sticks to the cluster of space that gave birth to their species nowadays. It wasn't that long ago when they had greater ambitions then the diplomatic peace keepers that have a habit of declaring war on themselves every few hundred years.

It is easy to forget that humans where more nomadic back when they first discovered jump drives. Meeting their interstellar neighbors before said neighbors even had a chance to explore the cluster of space humans called hom. The only species that made contact with the humans first where the Beedroid empire. Although considering that they developed outside the resource rich environment a cluster provides....I am getting off topic.

The last three species humans discovered where the machines, the <error, missing translation> and the Zeneth. Interstellar races that where one cluster away or even more.

However despite this. Humans traveled deeper into space then just their local group. Which is where this series of exploratory notes take place. This prelog is here to provide context the original writers of this document lacked.

The ruins #1:An abandoned outpost.

<incompatible star date system>, Clef B9's log.

We found an unknown outpost on the moon of <C8> this <start of cycle, realigning with context > morning. Seem some odd technology was observed within this base of some kind. Design not match any confirmed Pika construction practices. Mass of calcium found inside wrapped in some kind of garment. Unknown what purpose is.

Garment appears to be made out of an unknown material. No sign of active biological automaton observed, garment seems to possess traces of biological automaton...calcium masses where used to grow sustenance for unknown civilization.

Facility abandoned for years. If the unknown civilization resembles Pika, we are unlikely to find traces of original inhabitants...if inhabitants where not Pika. Same result if they where Pika.

The ruins #2:An abandoned ship.

<incompatible star date system>, Clef H7 log.

Found abandoned star ship in dead space. Found traces of biological automaton in shells of unknown winged creature. Found mountains of calcium similar to past logs. Correlation, shells of unknown winged creature is the remains of the missing species that piloted ship.

The same calcium masses where observed. Seems to be indeed a food supply. Ship seems to possess marks of fire. Likely cause of the demise of the crew. Issue....fire needs reaction agent to light. No trace of agent found on-board.

Got a good view of how this lost civilization used the calcium food mounds. Strange artifacts found near calcium mounds. Some sort of implement? Likely used to aid in removing dead skin layers when it is time to reskin? Odd to keep these implements so close to food.

Found some sort of thing near front of ship. Some sort of electron based binary calculation engine. The tech priests are attempting to interface with it without much success.

#humans are space orcs #short story #experimental #scifi #sci fi #fun #deep space exploration #recap

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geosightca · 4 months

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Why does drill hole deviation matter in underground mining?

When it comes to the subterranean world of mining, precision is not just a preference – it's a necessity. One key factor that often flies under the radar but holds immense importance is drill hole deviation. So, let's dig deep into the underground realms and explore why this seemingly small detail matters big time in the intricate dance of underground mining.

The Drill Dance: A Delicate Choreography

Picture this: deep beneath the Earth's surface, drills are at work, creating tunnels and extracting valuable resources. The success of this dance lies in the precision of each move. Drill hole deviation, or the deviation of a borehole from its planned path, can throw this choreography into disarray, leading to inefficiencies and potential hazards.

The Cost Conundrum: Dollars Lost in Deviation

In the mining world, time is money. Deviation can be costly – literally. When drill holes deviate from their intended path, it means additional work to correct and realign. This not only consumes more time but also piles on extra expenses for corrective measures. In the economic landscape of mining, every dollar saved in operational efficiency counts.

Safety First: Mitigating Risks Underground

Underground mining is no stroll in the park. Safety is paramount, and drill hole deviation can compromise this fundamental principle. Deviated holes may lead to unstable tunnel structures or unexpected intersections with existing workings, increasing the risk of accidents. Ensuring precision minimizes these risks, making underground mining a safer venture.

Resource Recovery Blues: Missing the Mark

Mining is, at its core, about extracting valuable resources. Deviated drill holes can miss the mark, leading to inefficient resource recovery. When the target is not hit accurately, the mining operation may not yield the desired amount of valuable materials, impacting the overall productivity and profitability of the venture.

The Geology Puzzle: Staying True to the Layers

Geological formations are like intricate puzzles beneath the surface. Deviating from the planned path might mean missing specific layers of ore or encountering unexpected geological challenges. Staying on course is crucial for tapping into the desired mineral deposits efficiently and understanding the geological makeup of the subsoil accurately.

Technological Tightrope: The Role of Advanced Equipment

In the mining world, technology is a game-changer. Advanced drilling equipment can help mitigate drill hole deviation. Incorporating technologies like guided drilling systems and real-time monitoring allows miners to steer clear of deviations, ensuring a more accurate and efficient drilling process.

Planning Precision: The Blueprint for Success

Success in underground mining is often traced back to meticulous planning. Drill hole deviation disrupts these well-laid plans. Mining engineers meticulously design drilling programs based on geological data, and any deviation throws off this carefully crafted blueprint, potentially leading to a cascade of operational challenges.

Reputation Matters: Mining Precision Builds Trust

In the competitive realm of mining, reputation is a valuable asset. Mining companies with a reputation for precision and efficiency attract more investors and business opportunities. Deviation can tarnish this reputation, affecting not only the current project but future collaborations as well.

Conclusion: Straight Paths Lead to Riches

In the intricate underground world of mining, drill hole deviation isn't just a technicality; it's a game-changer. From the economic standpoint of cost efficiency to the crucial aspect of safety, staying on course is the key to successful underground mining operations. As technology continues to evolve, the industry is better equipped than ever to navigate the complexities below the Earth's surface. So, the next time you marvel at the resources extracted from the depths, remember that behind the scenes, precision and drill hole deviation play a pivotal role in shaping the success of the underground mining dance.

#drill hole deviation

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redbowedblogger · 2 years

Text

KOBD SPA DAY- requested by universallyprincecollective

Breakdown hummed to himself as he cleaned another tool kit. Today went so smoothly. The mine was producing well, the medbay was empty, and all he had to do was clean up a bit before Knockout came home. He sealed the kit once it was sterilized. He had to set a reminder to bring more of these down into the mines, they had blasted three new tunnels today and each would require an emergency kit to be brought up to code. Not that Megatron cared. But Breakdown did. He was just finishing another kit when he heard the medbay doors swoosh open. He would have recognized the sound of his conjux's footsteps anywhere.

"Hey Knockout, how was work toda-ayeagh……" he could not help but wince at the sight of Knockout. Disheveled was the polite way to put it. Knockout was a hot mess, Covered in mud and scrapes. A trail of organic detruis led from where Knockout stood back out into the hall. A large stick was jammed above his left wheel well and he stood in a tense haunch.

"Oh sweet spark," Breakdown cooed as he walked over to where Knockout stood slightly trembling.

"Bad day?" He hazard to guess as he gently plucked the stick out and peeked into the wheel well to look for any damage. Knockout planted his face in Breakdown's ample chest plates

"I'm going to fragging kill someone." He groaned, his voice muffled. Breakdown rubbed his shoulder gently, heedless of the mud. Knockout's plating was as tight down to his frame as it would go, making him appear even smaller than usual. With some gentle coaxing it returned to a more normal position. Primus the mud was under the plates too.

"Come on into decon. Let's get you all cleaned up." Breakdown suggested. Knockout groaned in response, still muffled by giant breast plates.

Sound bounced around in the tiny tiled room in the back of the med bay. Steam boillowed as warm solvent flowed from the tap over head, dampening them both. Knockout sighed as the muck slid off of his frame and down the drain. While the surface plating was being cleaned, Breakdown began filling the large soaking vat with more hot water. He held up a small bottle.

“Time for a new top coat?” he suggested.

“Please.” Knockout keened, eyeing the bottle of wax remover. A generous amount of stripping agent caused a lush froth to form over the top of the water. From the rack on the wall Breakdown selected a long narrow brush, and after checking that the tub would not overflow, he began to scrub underneath Knockout's armor. Knockout fluffed up his plates to encourage him.

“Ow! Careful,” Knockout hissed as the brush touched something tender in his back.

“Sorry” Breakdown murmured, stroking the plate above the offending spot gently. “Feels like a piston out of alignment. Anywhere else is sore?” Knockout grunted.

“Neck. and between my shoulder pauldrons,” he reported. Breakdown frowned a touch. “I'll have to realign them manually.” he warned.

“Clean first.” demanded Knockout.

“Clean first.” agred Breakdown, kissing a helm fin.

Free of mud and debris, Knockout lowered himself into the soft foamy froth of the vat.

“Ooooooooh…. Thats nice.” he sighed, sinking in until his pointed chin brushed the waterline. The fresh scent of the wax stripper filled his nasal. After a brief soak to loosen up the old layer, Breakdown took a soft cloth and started to gently buff the wax off of Knockout's frame, starting at his peds. The old wax came off in little grey piles that squished under Breakdown’s fingetrips. By the time he reached Knockout’s shoulders, a soft rumbling purr was emitting from his engine. Knockout rested his helm on the lip of the tub, optics closed, as Breakdown tenderly scrubbed the wax off of his shoulders. Breakdown grinned as he felt the contented vibrations in his servos.

“Does that feel good?” he asked as he started on Knockout’s helm.

Knockout cracked open his optics and looked up to meet Breakdown’s orange face, cranky at being asked to think.

“Good.” he conceded, still purring. Breakdown chuckled as he rubbed behind one pointed audial. He could have sworn he saw a ped twitch in satisfaction.

By the time the tub had drained Knockout’s tact net was liquid mercury, so he only whined a little when Breakdown picked him out of the tub and propped him under the dryers. Hot air blew away the last of the water and bubbles, leaving Knockout dry and without his usual shine.

“Let's go take care of those misaligned pistons.” Breakdown invited as he opened the door back into the rest of the medbay. Knockout followed after him, dragging his peds noticeably less.

“The hot solvent helped to unknick the cables but I still feel them catching when I move.” Knockout complained as he plopped onto one of the nicer medbeths. Breakdown came up behind him and put both hands on Knockout's neck, feeling along his life cord with large rounded thumbs.

“Yeah, they whacked you good. Your last three are all wonky.” he said, adjusting his grip. He now had either side of the Knockout helm cradled in a massive palm, his digits resting on high sharp cheekbones.

“I got thrown through SEVERAL trees.” Knockout explained before taking a deep invent. Breakdown hummed as he jerked Knockout’s helm to one side. The brutal crunch of metal parts echoed into the empty room, followed by a soft cry. Knockout's frame slumped alarmingly limp in Breakdown’s grip. After a beat of silence the purring of Knockout's engine returned.

“Primus brakey.” he sighed on the exvent. “That was a good one, did you get all of them?” Breakdown ran his thumbs along his neck again, applying steady pressure.

“2 out of 3. One more small adjustment.” he reported as he took the top of Knockout’s helm in one servo, steadying him with the other. He guided Knockout’s helm in a few small gentle circles before pressing the opposite direction. A smaller more subdued pop sounded, and Knockout groaned.

“Theeer it is.” he announced. He proceeded to recline on the berth before rolling onto his stomach, cradling his face in his bent arms. Cautious of his large frame, Breakdown clambered onto the berth and straddled Knockout's legs. Knockout giggled.

“Careful Breakdown, someone might think we are up to something naughty.”

“We are up to something naughty. Technically there is 15 minutes left on shift.” Breakdown quipped. He made a few small adjustments to how Knockout was holding his arms, before running his hands up and down Knockout's back, spine between his pointer fingers.

“Ok, here we go. Invent deep.” he ordered, crossing his palms over a spot between the wheel wells. As soon as he felt Knockout’s shoulders rise, he pressed down and forward. Three hollow cracks rang out followed by the air hissing out of Knockout’s vents.

“True.” he conceded with a groan. “But if this isn't healthcare then I don't know what is.” it was Breakdown’s turn to chuckle as he idly stroked his thumbs across his lover's back. He only stopped the gentle touch when Knockout patted his knee, signaling that he was ready to get up.

Yellow eyes greedly roamed Knockout's frame as he sat up and stretched, reveling at how good it felt.

“Like what you see?” Knockout purred.

“You are so beautiful,” Breakdown told him. It wasn't the first time he had said it, hell wasn't even the first time he had said it that cycle. But something in his tone, of the earnest shift in his frame made Knockout feel all flustered and sheepish.

“Breakdown~” he whined, covering his face with his servos. “I'm matte.”

Breakdown laid all of the supplies out carefully on an instrument tray. Now that he was clean and his frame was in proper working order, Knockout was much more chatty.

“Can you believe Screamer? The coward flew away the second the autobots showed up. Usually hes good for at least one bombing run but not today. The skinny jerk fragged off without so much as taking a potshot. It was all ‘we,we,we,us,we' when he needed me to track the signal but it became ‘i me me i’ pretty damn quick.” Knockout said as Breakdown put the airbrush together. He handed his most damaged arm over without a pause. “Left me to get the scrap beat out of me by those two ingrate sparklings. Papa prime let them play with some of the expensive toys today, and after they bounced me off a few trees, they threw me down a mudslide.” he sneered.

“Muuum.” Breakdown hummed, letting the words wash over him as he focused on the paint.

“I got my licks in, trust me, but two on one was just not fair. And they had the most garish paint jobs. Smokestack or whoever- The kid who had the key in his chest- was navy and yellow. Yellow. I mean bumblebee pulls yellow off, but he's been dedicated to that look forever. Seriously, kids black and yellow phase has lasted longer than some bot's conjuxing, but yellow and navy. Puh-lease! And he got a number on his doors. Try hard much? Batch numbers are sooo functionalist council.” he traded arms, holding the one out to admire the gleam of wet red paint.

“I think Screamo is up to something. That's the only reason he would have bailed to leave me sparkling sitting so readily. I mean that should have been an easy win. Plus he's been all shifty after work. Hasn't been down to Steve's at all this week. Poor mech thinks he offended ‘lord air commander Starscream’ somehow” Knockout made linbrial use of air quotes.

“What do you think he's cooking up this time?” Breakdown asked as Knockout kicked a ped up into his lap.

“Pit if I know.” Knockout scoffed as new paint was applied to his shin. “Something something assasnation, something something megatron has fallen. You know how he is. He never talks to me anymore. And I don't think he's taking his supplements. He's strut thin, I couldn't take an ounce off of him if I tried. Me, an aerodynamic specialist. There's no way he's structurally sound like that. Megatron doesn't hit him any harder now, you know, probably less. His frame just can't absorb it like his old one did.” Knockout switched legs with a flourish. “I thought he was struggling after the whole thing with his trine but now… i swear to primus he's going to nose dive off the deep end and i'm not going to be able to race after him fast enough.”

“Don't think he would hurt himself do you?” Breakdown paused and looked up, concerned. Starscream was an annoying little glitch, but he was their annoying little glitch.

Knockout paused in thought.

“Not his style.” he said finally. “Now doing something stupid and getting hurt by someone else-” he trailed off, uneasy.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” Breakdown agreed as he finished the topcoat. Knockout swung his peds idly.

“You know, you really should let me do yours once in a while. You are too handsome to be running around like that.” Knockout changed the topic as Breakdown assembled the larger rotary buffer.

“Knocks, I work in a mine, when I'm not getting into fights. I don't have to be flashy, I just have to be waterproof.” he defended as he dolaped wax onto the soft buffer pad

“Yes but it would look so nice. You deserve nice things.”

“I have you.” he said as he turned it on and took one of Knockout's arms in his hand.

“You are so sappy.” Knockout rolled his optics. “And ticklish,” he added. Poking one claw tip in a seam of Breakdowns armpit.

“Knockout!” Breakdown shouted as he squirmed. “Stop, I'm going to smudge it.” he laughed.

“Ooo~ I'm so scared. Then you will have to start over and I will have to spend more time bening buffed by my big strong conjux.” Knockout laughed.

“I'm serious,” Breakdown said as he moved the rotary in small circles over freshly painted plates.

“Ok, ok. Can't have anyone knowing that big tough commander Breakdown is ticklish.”Knockout conceded

“Exactly. I have a hard exterior facade to keep up. Wouldn't want the troops to think I'm going soft.” Breakdown said haughtily.

“Mm. that's why Av3ry came in here the other day asking for the recipe for your rust sticks.” Knockout purred as the buffer moved across his left headlight.

“The kid earned those, moved three parcels of energon all by himself. Besides, he should know better. That recipe comes with me to the grave.” Breakdown said, his tone serious for the first time in the conversation.

“Yes, commander Breakdown, fearsome smasher of autobots and baker of treats.” Knockout purred as the soft poof spun its way across his right chestplate.

“And master of the rotary buffer.” Breakdown added as he swiped the buffer to Knockouts back. It was hard to tell what was making a louder humming, the buffer or Knockout’s engine. Fresh wax was applied to every part of Knockouts' new paint, the flowery scent of it filling the medbay more effectively than any air freshener. Next chrome polish and a soft cloth was brought out and gently rubbed into the silver plates of Knockouts, peds, hands, and thighs. The pair of them worked in companionable silence until Breakdown brought out the tiny bottle of joint oil and started to work on Knockout's talons. Knockout flexed the digits in his hand, helping to work the oils into his fingers.

“Do you remember how those silly upper caste entertainers used to point their hands?” he asked, admiring the wet gloss.

“Yeah. you always loved it, but never could do it on your own because of work.” Breakdown recalled, dabbing the extra with a cloth.

“Yes, I thought I was sacrificing for the job back then.” he scoffed.

“You always did your face up though. I remember the nights of those important dinner parties, you would fret in front of the mirror for hours.” Knockouts eyes got a starry look.

“Of course I would. My face is white. It was built to be painted.” he gently scrapped a tallon along his chin and sighed.

“I don't miss it. The snobby aristocrats, the spoiled racing toys demanding I make them faster. The functionalist scrap heaps looking at you sideways. But I do miss the makeup. The glamor. The fun.” he reminisced.

“I know you do. I hated those parties, getting all dressed up to attend some vanity project so that a bot with more money than sense could tell you three things that would have fit in an email. I recall being flabbergasted at enjex so expensive it could fuel a pit crew for a vorn being poured from fountains. I loved dancing with you. Seeing your frame shimmer in the crystal chandeliers as you moved more graceful than greased lightning.`` At this point Breakdown was getting wistful too.

“We were so foolish. Thinking we could change a world like that.” Knockout delicately pulled his hand from Breakdowns. His tone was distracted and sad and so, so, tired. It broke Breakdown’s spark to hear him like that. An idea popped into his head.

“Hey Knockout.” he said, splitting into a grin. “Do you want to do something fancy, foolish and a tad wasteful?” he asked. Knockout perked up, if only the tiniest bit.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, curious. Normally it was him making the rash decisions. He watched as Breakdown began rummaging around in his subspace. He pulled out a small glittering vial and handed it to Knockout. Gold glitter finer than anything Knockout had ever seen swirled suspended in liquid.

“Breakdown, where did you get it?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I made it!” his conjux announced proudly. “The gold dust is from the mines, and I think I finally cracked the formula on the stuff you used to use. It was hard to find an earth equivalent for tetrihexian silicates, but it should work.” Knockout was speechless. He hadn't seen gold paint this high quality since before they had left velocitron.

“Can you… I know you have already done alot for me tonight.. Can you put it on me? With some of the other stuff I've held onto? Paint my lips, a bit of rouge? It's fine if you don't want to, I'll just save this for a special occasion.” he couldn't help the eger lift in his voice.

“Go get your kit, I will put the rest of this away.” Breakdown chuckled. Knockout all but dashed to their berth room.

From under their massive berth, which was actually just two standard berths welded together, he pulled a small lock box. His spark soared. He hadn't had the occasion to pull this out for centuries. He was practically vibrating with excitement when he returned to the main medbay, where Breakdown was adjusting the med berth to a sitting position. He slid the box onto the foot of the berth and hopped up, settling against the backrest. Breakdown input the security code and lifted the lid on Knockout's treasure chest.

First thing he brought out was a chainmail cloth, made of impossibly tiny tarnish titanium rings. He placed the cloth into the forge across the room to heat up.

Back in the box he grabbed a purple swath of fine fabric. It whispered against itself as it was drawn out and unfolded, the texture impossibly smooth against Breakdowns fingertips. Knockout shivered a bit as the vosian silk detailing cape settled around his frame. Starscream had once mentioned that if he could get real vosian silk again he would make pillowcases, to support his wings. Pillowcases. Out of vossian silk. The thought was absurd.

Next, Breakdown pulled a few small brushes out and laid them neatly on the now empty instrument tray. The brushes were cheap, compared to everything else in the cosmetic case, made of base steel and synthetic fibers, but they were one of the first courting presents Breakdown had ever made for him, and were meticulously well cared for. Finally Breakdown lined up a few small vials, in varying shades of reds, pinks, and one black. His handmade gold stood proudly at the end of the line. He sat on his stool and scooted so close that Knockout could feel the warm air from his vents.

“Close your optics.” Breakdown ordered gently as he selected a brush. Eyes first. Once he had the eyes the rest would fall into place. Knockout sat stone still as Breakdown worked. He felt the cool touch of the ceramic paints on his face, the soft draw of the brushes as they smoothed pigment out over his sensitive metal. Breakdown’s servos were as steady as they were when he swung a hammer, manipulating the brushes as precisely as he would any medical instrument. He swiped, stroked, dabbed, and blended. Color glided over his optics, tickled against his cheek struts, and gently kissed his lips. It was a special kind of agony, the sweet sensual touch mixed with the anticipation of seeing the finished product.

“Ok. I think that should do it. I'm going to get the hot mail to set this.” Breakdown finally announced. It took all of Knockout’s will to not crack open an optic and sneak a peek. But he also knew that if he moved before the colors cured, it would be a disaster.

“Ok, the chainmail is nice and hot. Don't move.” Breakdown instructed before settling the glowing mesh over Knockout’s face, holding it by either corner and letting the weight settle from the top of Knockout's face down. Knockout sighed as the heat absorbed into his face. It felt so good, like he would never be cold again. autobots, decepticons, Starscream, all of it faded away. There was no past, no present, just the warmth of the mail, the softness of the silk cape, and the sureness of Breakdown’s servo in his own. The intense heat would bake the ceramic colors onto his face, and a shine less wax would go overtop to protect it.

Breakdown ran his thumb over Knockout's servo as his face baked. Knockout began to purr, and his em field, normally well controlled, lapped out against Breakdowns. Breakdown basked in his conjusx’s contentment, his own engine beginning to purr in time with his beloved’s. He watched as the red hot mail cloth faded back to shining silver. Only when it was cool to the touch did he reach out to remove it.

Knockout felt the now cool cloth being removed, and then the excess flakes of paint being whisked from his face with a large and fluffy brush. He dared to crack a scarlet optric.

“No peeking!” Breakdown smiled as he prepared a facial buffer, a much smaller and more precise cousin to their large roterty. The wax was cool and soft on Knockouts plating as the pillowy brush head worked it in rapid circles. The vibrations carried into the rest of Knockout’s skull and left a pleasant buzzing sensation. Pure satisfied bliss came from Knockout in waves as Breakdown moved the buffer in straight lines from his chin up to his temples, straight across his brow lines, and he could not resist the temptation to take an image capture as Knockout lifted his head to be polished under his pointed chin. The artistry of his makeup combined with his blissed out expression was a sight worth saving for the rest of time.

At long last, Breakdown pulled the last item from the lockbox. It was a gilded hand mirror, beautifully crafted with crystal flowers etched into the silver handle. It was the one thing that Knockout had had longer than Breakdown. He placed it into one pointed, tenderly maintained, beautifully dexterous,hand.

Knockout was greatly pleased. It was much more simple than anything he would have chosen, but it highlighted his features wonderfully. Deep red paint filled out the natural curved shape of his lips, and his red optics positively glowed from underneath smoky shadowed shutters. Glimmering gold lined them, exaggerating their pointed shape in a way that made him look dangerous and intriguing. Dark brows gracefully arched, perfectly symmetrical on either side of his face. The high points of his cheeks had been lightly dusted in a soft rose pink, so subtle it blended out perfectly into his porcelain white face. It added just a hint of demure coyness. He suddenly had to see the rest of his frame. He stood up and discarded the fine drape of silk as fast as he dared.

Knockout ran to the biggest mirror he could find, the one in their berth room. He waited impatiently for Breakdown to follow him in before slamming the control. The door slid down from the ceiling and locked into place, separating them from the rest of the world. Welded to the back of the door was a large mirror, just thin enough to fit on the door and not impede its movement. It was never intended to be there, but Knockout had spotted it in a dumpster behind a decommissioned motel. Knockout hadn't even known humans made mirrors this big, it would have taken up the entirety of one of their walls. He had snacthed it up and taken it to the nemesis, consequences be damned.

He stared at the bot in the mirror for a long time, taking a good hard look at all of the little details. He was shocked to find that the bot standing there, clutching his hand mirror, was not him. At least not who he was anymore. Before him stood a different Knockout, young and stubborn and idealistic. A Knockout who reveled at high class parties, having bought a place there with his skill and his looks. A Knockout who lived for the thrill of being seen with a truck. One who would burn their shining citadels down to see the beauty of the flames. Tears began to spill down his face. The pigment did not smudge, Breakdown had cured and sealed it perfectly.

“If it's that bad we can get out the sanding clay and start again…” Breakdown started uncertain. Knockout looked at his husband's reflection next to his own. Breakdown was bigger than Knockout in every aspect. He had never belonged at those fancy parties, being paraded around like some exotic pet. He had given up so much of what he loved to be there with Knockout. Sure now his blue paint was chipped, his chrome scuffed, often coming home dusty and dented. But he was happy. The joy he took in commanding his troops, of working his frame, from brawling with those stuck up autobots. Knockout would gladly rust if it meant keeping Breakdown.

“It's perfect.” he said, leaning into Breakdown's embrace, admiring how they fit together in the mirror.

#transformers #tfp #breakdown #kobd #knockout #robots in love #gay #selfcare #grooming #buffing is a love language #@universallyprincecollective

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