#of mutual knowing and understand ... and taps tf out

[stagehunt]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 … ?

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧. love is knowing all of someone and loving them anyway.

when tim kreider said " if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known " and when joe wright said " the idea that these two people know each other, knew each other when they first saw each other. that they recognized each other from their future. " and when micah nemerever said " it was a relief and a horror to be known so perfectly. "

tagged by — @oneireth & @blckswnstm, tysm ♡ tagging — whoever hasn't done it yet !!

[kaistarus]

Mistexting Mayhem

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 1.6K

Summary: You accidentally send Nishinoya a text that was meant for Yachi and now he’s knows secrets you were hoping he never found out

A/N: If you think this fic is anything but crack you’re wrong lmao I’ve always wanted to write a fic with this style and Noya is great for the chaos i needed. It was fun

Masterlist

[6:40pm] idiot⚡: look y/n without adhd id be too powerful

                         i could beet god himself in handtohand combat

                         god was afraid of my raw fuckin awesomeness wen i bursted from the woom

[6:41pm] y/n: there is so much wrong with what u just said

[6:41pm] idiot⚡: i have absoltly no clue wat

[6:43pm] y/n: put those 3 brain cells to work. I believe in you

[6:43pm] idiot⚡: but theyve reached their daily quota

                          plz there so tired and overworked

You snorted, a dopey smile on your lips as you laid surrounded by textbooks and homework, swinging your feet in the air behind you. You focused intently on the cell phone in your hand doing everything you could to procrastinate the schoolwork around you.

[6:44pm] y/n: noyas so stupid

[6:44pm] yachi❤: i thought you liked him?

[6:45pm] y/n: jeez Yachi. dont come for my throat

                       i cant help that i have bad taste 🙄

[6:46pm] yachi❤: if it helps he tripped over a stray ball today

                               maybe think of that till you don’t like him??

Unfortunately, the image of Nishinoya waving to everyone then biffing it only had you smiling like a dork. How you’d gotten to a point that Nishinoya being an idiot made you swoon, you’ll never know.

You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at the new notification on Snapchat from ‘Tanaka’ and after swiping it open you nearly dropped your phone. Looking back at you was Nishinoya, his head tilted and eyebrow quirked in confusion with a gari-gari kun shoved halfway down his throat. The caption at the bottom reading ‘daaaammn look at your prince charming go 😩’.

You frowned at the picture, letting out a frustrated groan at how your heart accelerated against your ribcage. You quickly tapped out of it and reopened the messenger app.

[6:57pm] y/n: we have to kill Noya

[6:57pm] idiot⚡: we??? what kind of mission is this??? 😤

[6:58pm] y/n: i like him too much. he has to die. its for my own good

You waited impatiently for her response and almost debated doing your homework since it took longer than you felt necessary. You supposed you had suggested murder to Yachi, but still…

When you finally received a response your entire body froze.

[7:11pm] idiot⚡: U LIKE ME?!?!? 😍

                          UR KILLING ME?!?! 😢

                          IM SO CONFUSED......

                          and a lil turned on ngl👀

Your hand covered your mouth in horror as you processed what the hell you had just done. This didn’t happen to people in real life. Mistexting was stuff people made up when they created fake texts for social media to get likes. You didn’t think people actually went through this.

You opened new notifications to escape the hell that stared you straight in the face.

[7:15pm] Tanaka💪: Yo, whatd u do. Whys Noya having a panic attak

[7:16pm] y/n: I accidently texted him instead of Yachi and told him i liked him 😣

[7:16pm] Tanaka💪: O wtf thats hilarious 😂

[7:17pm] y/n: ITS NOT HILArIOUS

[7:18pm] Tanaka💪: Hes askin if its a prank. Wat do i do?

[7:19pm] y/n:I DONT KNOW SDKFHJN IM THE IDIOT WHO STSRTED IT

He stopped responding and you banged your head against your pillow anxiously.

[7:23pm] y/n: YACHI ITOLD NoYA I LKED HIM AND NOU HE NOS WAY DO JI DO!?!????! 😭😭😭

[7:23pm] idiot⚡: THIS ISNT YACHI!!!!

                           HOLY FUKC U DO LIEK ME!!!

You screamed into your pillow. Were you fucking kidding? This could not be happening.

[7:25pm] Tanaka💪: dude, twice? i cant save u now 🤪

[7:25pm] y/n: betraying me in my time of fucking need? i’ll remember this asshole

[7:26pm] Tanaka💪: so vulgar 👀

You growled at Tanaka’s uselessness and bravely peeked through one eye as you went back to your conversation with Nishinoya.

[7:24pm] idiot⚡: STOP IGNORING ME I KNO UR TEXTING RYU

[7:26pm] idiot: IM GONNA KEEP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWE RME😤

[7:26pm] idiot⚡: 1

                          2

                          3

                          4

                          5

                           6

                           7

                           8

                           9

[7:27pm] y/n: what is this twitch chat? fuck 

[7:28pm] idiot⚡: your heeeeererererreee 🥰

[7:29pm] y/n: soooooo………..

                        clearly there has been a misunderstanding

[7:29pm] idiot⚡: oh nonono. I understand PERFETCLY. u LOVE me

                         its ok. this is a safe space. we can discuss feelings 😌

[7:31pm] y/n: there are zero feelings to discuss

[7:31pm] idiot⚡: then y did u say u like me too much so i have to die?

[7:34pm] y/n: i am filled with rage 🤬

[7:34pm] idiot⚡: rage over how much u liiike me???🥰🥰🥰

[7:36pm] y/n: definitely not

You racked your brain for some kind of reasonable sounding excuse, eventually landing on:

[7:36pm] y/n: It was autocorrect

[7:36pm] idiot⚡: HAH????? FROM?????

[7:38pm] y/n: HAH???

                       ....Nora?

[7:38pm] idiot⚡: Who TF is nora???? 😡

[7:39pm] y/n: someoe i like obviously 😏

[7:40pm] idiot⚡: so u like them but u use my name so much it autocorrected to me? 🤔

[7:44pm] y/n: OK MR DETEcTIVE WHERE TF ARE THES BRAIN CELS COMIN GFROM?

[7:45pm] idiot⚡: i pull them out for special ocasions 😌

[7:45pm] y/n: well how bout you pack those up and put em away

[7:46pm] idiot⚡: how bout two people who LIKE each other SAY something so they can DOOOOOOOO something bout IT 🙄

You began typing a frantic message about how it was none of his business until you processed the message. Then you read it over several times before letting out an audible, “what the fuck.”

[7:50pm] y/n: YOU LIKE ME

[7:50pm] idiot⚡: I FLIRT WITH U ALL THE TIME WAT DO U MEAN yOu LiKe Me!?!

                          FUCKING OBVIOSLY

[7:51pm] y/n: literally when. name one time.

[7:52pm] idiot⚡: I WALK WITH U EVERY MORNING!!!

[7:53pm] y/n: I thought that was a coincidence???

[7:54pm] idiot⚡: I BRNIG U SNACKS DURING LUNCH!!!

[7:54pm] y/n: I thought they were leftovers??

[7:55pm] idiot⚡: …....I call you cute and invite you to my games.

[7:56pm] y/n: you call everyone attractive and i thought there was like a audience quota or something........?

[7:57pm] idiot⚡: ….i cant tell who i should be upset with rn but i think its u 😑

[7:58pm] y/n: WAT WHY!?!

[8:00pm] Idiot⚡: I LIKE U+U LIKE ME=WE LIKE EACH OTHER

[8:01pm] y/n: whoa. slow down. I hate math 😣

[8:02pm] Idiot⚡: ===WE SHUD GO ON A DATE!!!

[8:02pm] y/n: HAH!? i think you started multiplying that addition problem buddy 🤨

Your cheeks were beginning to ache from how wide your dopey grin was. You couldn’t help but tease Nishinoya-it was second nature at this point-even if you now knew your feelings were mutual.

[8:04pm] idiot⚡: i suk at math but thats NOT the point

                         point iiissss i think deep down u want to hang out and cuddle and fall in love

                        maybe even..... 😏 kiiisssss

[8:04pm] y/n: WHOA WHOA WHOA

                        WARN ME BEFORE YOU GET NSFW

                        i would never premarital eye-contact. let alone k🤢ki-🤢🤢kiss🤢🤮🤮

[8:05pm] idiot⚡: well we would have socks on 🙄

[8:06pm] y/n: oh. well if there’s protection

[8:06pm] idiot⚡: Im not a maniac

[8:07pm] y/n: i suppose as long as you dont do something stoopid

                        like faceplant in public

                        that would be humiliating

[8:08pm] idiot⚡: I-

                          who told you that 😠

[8:08pm] y/n: i have spies everywhere noya

                        youre never safe

[8:09pm] Idiot⚡: kinda hot 👀

                         makin me fear for my life like that👀

[8:10pm] y/n: i hate that i like you

                        It kills me inside 

                        i feel braincels leaving with every conversation

[8:12pm] Idiot⚡: fan behavior 😏

                          so am i taking u to eat tomorow or wat?

[8:14pm] y/n: if I HAVE to 🙄

[8:14pm] Idiot⚡: No u GET to

                          I am a fucking delite 😤

[8:15pm] y/n: whatever helps you sleep at night

[8:15pm] Idiot⚡: nothing helps me sleep at night. this mind never rests

[8:16pm] y/n: thinking 24/7 and still not a smart thing comes out of that mouth 👀

[8:17pm] Idiot⚡: yas, bully me more 😫

[8:19pm] y/n: ok thats as much as i can handle for one day......

                       im gonna pretend to do homework

[8:20pm] idiot⚡: okie... good luck my sweet baby pogchamp 🥰

[8:20pm] y/n: no

[8:20pm] Idiot⚡: 😘😘😘

[8:22pm] y/n: 🙄✋

[8:23pm] Idiot⚡: oh FUCK yas 🥵 shut me UP

[8:25pm] y/n: suddenly all i feel is endless regret

[8:26pm] Idiot⚡: i have that effect on people

                          See you tomorrow 🥰🥰🥰

[8:27pm] y/n: unfortunately 😘

[8:27pm] idiot⚡: 🥵

You flung an arm over your eyes and let a small giggle bubble up from your chest. Nishinoya was probably the biggest idiot you’d ever met, but you couldn’t help that thinking of spending time with him had you kicking your feet with excitement.

You supposed you should actually get started on your homework. You reached forward when a notification popped up from Yachi, asking if her idea worked and you had stopped liking Nishinoya.

...you should probably break the news, huh?

[thenightwherethouart]

my ultimate drarry fic rec

...or what comes to my mind when i think about drarry

sorted by word count

will be updated

1. The Sacrifices Arc series by Lightning on the Wave [M, 3m+]

Saving Connor begins an AU of Harry Potter's school years, the Sacrifices Arc, where Harry's twin Connor (bearing a heart-shaped scar) is acknowledged as the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry and Connor have a loving relationship, and Harry plays the role of personal bodyguard/silent support for his brother to the hilt.

My canon HP lol. But goodness it’s long. Prepare to throw your life away if you start this series.

2. The Mirror of Ecidyrue series by starbrigid [WIP, M, 600k+, 5 works]

All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter.

Hurts so good.

3. Two to Shore by Lamplighter [M, 204k]

Harry and Draco meet in Madam Malkin’s and instantly take a liking to each other.

Just kidding. They don’t, but Harry does get sorted into Slytherin, and they do become extremely good friends.

Left me disoriented with everything around me, after I finished it. But it’s alright, I quite like this kind of suffering.

4. Away Childish Things by lettered [T, 153k]

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

One of these “in the right place at the right time” kind of stories for me.

5. From Ashes by Caedes12 [E, 150k]

When Draco comes back for eighth year, he starts an unexpected friendship with Hermione Granger. Between his new friendship and his parents kicking him out of the house, Draco's life starts down a new path.

Auror!Harry and Healer!Draco? My favourite trope ever! Bisexual Harry and Draco? Sign me tf up! Relationship build on trust and mutual understanding? Oh gosh, can you take my memories away, so I could reread this again for the first time?

6. Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren [E, 135k]

Harry Potter was convinced he had an ordinary, if inconvenient, life. Then Ron and Hermione vanished in the Department of Mysteries. And the only person who may know where they are is a mute Draco Malfoy.

This author has a way with words. And with my feelings, apparently. Just throw them away, useless things, who needs feelings when you can torture yourself by reading this fic.

7. Running on Air by eleventy7 [T, 74k]

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

We don’t need an introduction to this one, do we?

8. Солнце над Стоунхенджем by Serenada_san [ M, 68k, rus]

"Скованный мужчина напрягся, вздохнул устало и раздражённо, с той же смесью эмоций в голосе глухо произнес: — Это ты. — Как констатация неприятного и практически неизбежного факта. Даже одышка не испортила высокомерия в его тоне. — Ради Мерлина, почему это непременно должен быть ты?"

Главный аврор Поттер ищет повод задержаться на работе. И находит его.

I was hesitating a lot about putting this fic here because it’s not in English, obviously, but I wanted to create post that contains my absolute faves, so I just couldn’t omit this one. If you can read Russian please, please, please do yourself a favor and read this masterpiece. You will thank me.

9. The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered [E, 54k]

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed by how lucky I am to be in a fandom, where I can read stories like this.

10. Take These Lies by white_serpent [M, 34k]

Repeatedly rejected by the Auror training programme, Draco Malfoy attempts an unorthodox method of gaining admission.

This one deserves so much love I cannot stress this enough. Also I like idea of Draco, Blaise and Pansy having a threesome

11. The Bucket List by GallaPlacidia [T?,32k]

Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List. Tap-dancing lessons? Rock climbing? Poetry-writing? Threesomes? Cocaine? Getting to know his adorable cousin, Teddy Lupin? Draco will try them all!

This Draco is just *chef’s kiss meme*. Harry Potter didn't stand a chance.

12. Telling the Bees by Cibee (Cibeeeee)[M, 31k]

Scorpius’ body was found in Hogwarts one early morning.

Nothing better than having a gapping hole in your chest.

13. Lettered by pir8fancier [M, 7k]

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Oh gods, where to begin. I remember stumbling upon this one by chance more than ten years ago and having my mind blown away after finishing it. This story is one of the first drarry I’ve ever read and It’s so dear to me I can practically feel it’d thrown a good chunk of my heart away, built a nest instead of it and just... staying with me forever.

[hankwritten]

Immaterial Witness

Demoman/Soldier, 5k

Request for r2mich2, Ghosthunting

Demo was less than thrilled about being selected for mandatory company ghost-busting work. His enthusiasm dropped even lower when he saw who’d be accompanying him.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“You!” Soldier replied. “Except with a different inflection! To indicate I am also not happy to see you!”

“Bloody hell,” Demo groaned as the looked at the man before him. “Jesus of all the BLU’s she could have picked for a ‘cross team eradication venture’, and she went with you.”

“I didn’t agree to this either, maggot,” Soldier assured him. “I am under orders not to strangle any REDs until this mission is complete, but my tractability will be put to the test if said RED is such a weakling and liar.”

“For the last time, I never called you a-”

“And what about all the things you did say, you son of a bitch?”

Demo scowled, not looking forward to going through the same recycled arguments over again. She had some nerve putting the two of them together after what she’d put them through; complete and total destruction of a friendship, and for what? Just to decide TF Industries was going to be managing both teams a few months later? It was a load of crap if Demo ever heard it.

“What are you even wearing?” he scoffed at Soldier’s new uniform.

“This is regulation specter pummeling gear, you sissified maggot scum!” Soldier puffed up proudly. Gone was the red jacket and fatigues, instead superseded by a singular beige jumpsuit.

“And what’s that?” Demo pointed to the canister vacuum strapped to his back. No bells, no whistles, just a regular old vacuum with a flexible nozzle.

“Ghost sucker,” Soldier said plainly.

“Right. Obviously.”

“Well what did you bring RED?” Soldier accused. “These ghosts are going lift you up by your frilly little underthings and fling you right out the door if you do not have anything to protect yourself from their disembodied maliciousness!”

“I,” Demo said, flexing his fist, “have this.”

Engineer had built it with such efficiency, Demo was sure he’d made the blueprints years ago and was just waiting for someone to ask for a ghost-capturing device. The device’s visual design was similar to that of the gunslinger, but instead of a limb replacement, it functioned more like power armor, cradling the outside of the wearer’s hand and increasing their grip tenfold.

“This ‘lil beauty has everything,” Demo continued haughtily. “EKG readings, built in spooktralizer, and-” He pulled back his fingers, activating the now-glowing disk in the center of his palm. “Anti-gravity net. No spirit’s going to escape this vortex, which is a good thing because you can’t suck up a ghost with a vacuum cleaner.”

“Shows how much you know, buster,” Soldier said. “All those doodads won’t do jack when you are staring into the blood-red eyes of a flesh-hungry phantom—these are creatures of the other side! Of the great beyond! They do not care about technology.”

“Oh aye?” Despite himself, Demo got right into Soldier’s face. “We’ll se about that when my power glove’s saving your sorry arse from having spectral boot shoved up it.”

“I will take that bet, princess,” Soldier spat back.

“Uuhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggg,” a new voice cut into the conversation. “If I have to sit through another one of your lover’s spats I’m going to kill myself. Again.”

Soldier’s eyes narrowed, fixating on something over Demo’s shoulder. “Oh great. The sword is here.”

“Yes! The sword is here!” the Eyelander chirped sarcastically. “And since I’m bloody gracing you with my company, you can do me a favor and get on with this thing. We’ve been standing out here for ten minutes.”

“It’s right,” Demo admitted as Soldier continued to stare daggers at the weapon strapped to his back. “Let’s head in.”

Demo didn’t wait to see if Soldier followed him as he took his first creaking step onto the house’s porch; by company orders, they were stuck together for now, no matter how much bad blood ran between them.

“So why are we clearing this place of ghosts anyway?” Eyelander asked as Demo pushed in the front door. The doubles groaned with an appropriate level of eeriness.

“The Voice’s orders,” he shrugged. “She wants this for a new battleground, but she wants it ghost free. Apparently there’ve been too many complaints about the past few Halloweens for her liking.”

“Really?” Eyelander said aghast. “Who doesn’t like Halloween?”

“Eh. Some of the mercs think it’s too random. Chaotic, hard to focus on what’s going on. They don’t like all the candy packs and the fact that idiot in a robe shows up and turns a ten minute match into a thirty minute nightmare.” At the last, he eyed Soldier over his shoulder.

“Do not look at me!” Soldier barked. “That isn’t my fault!”

“Yes it is! Last time he even said ‘SOLDIER THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’ as he was dropping bombs on our heads!”

“Well I am not the only causer-of-halloween-related-problems in this company,” Soldier said, jogging to get ahead of Demo to block his path. “The giant floating eyeball with red wig and child-sized overalls certainly wasn’t mine.”

Demo rubbed his face. “Jesus, just forget it. The only reason we have to tolerate each other is because there’s some soul with soon-to-be-finished business lurking around here, and we picked the short straw. So let’s find whatever apparition, spirit, or poltergeist is squatting in this dump and get out of each other’s hair.”

About to offer some stupid retort, Soldier was abruptly cut off as Eyelander yelped, “w-wait! Poltergeists?? You didn’t say anything about those arseholes!”

Demo and Soldier exchanged a look.

Soldier leveled a frown at the Eyelander. “You are a ghost, maggot. How on God’s green earth are you afraid of ghosts?”

“I’m afraid of poltergeists, eejit,” Eyelander snapped back. “You don’t bloody mess with a geist unless you want your immortal soul turned to shreds and left to wander the infinite abyss forever.”

“Whatever, this is getting us nowhere.” Demo pushed past Soldier. “C’mon. We’ve got a job to do.”

As he passed under the precarious looking chandelier overseeing the foyer, Soldier murmured, “tch. Only ever got the job. Typical.” Demo pretended he hadn’t heard.

What he did hear—over the sounds of the Eyelander whining about powerful forces they didn’t understand and eventually sinking into resigned grumble—was the sound of an organ playing in the deep bowels of the manor.

“Thirty bucks says there’s no one playing it when we get there,” Demo said.

“Deal,” Eyelander replied.

They readied their weapons. Well, not exactly weapons (and definitely not weapons in Soldier’s case, as he strangled his vacuum’s hose in a viselike grip), but tools that would get this bloody ghost out of here and let Demo go home for the day. His footsteps scraped decades old rugs as he padded carefully across the ground, power glove extended into the gloom before him. No readings yet, save for Eyelander’s steady thrum, but as soon as they crossed the barrier of the music room the EKG jumped like crazy.

“Called it,” Demo said as the organ continued to press down one ivory key after another, despite the only human beings in the room being the two mercs who had just entered. “Pay up, Eyelander.”

“Sure! Let me just grab my wallet.”

“Smart-arse.”

“It’s called a pommel.”

“If you two ladies are finished,” Soldier growled, drawing closer to the haunted piano, “let’s bag this ghost-maggot.”

Demo rolled his eye, sweeping to the other side of the organ that’s girth took up the entirety of the room, pipes clawing at the ceiling as wax burned down to nubs around it. “You ‘n your cleaning supplies just stand back.”

“And let you fumble our ticket out of here? I don’t think so.” Soldier flipped on his Hoover.

The glove began to gyrate in Demo’s palm. “You’re the one who’s messing this up! If you’d just believe me when I tell you something-”

“How can I believe you when your history of treachery continues?”

They were nearing the organ now, the disk glowing a menacing red and the vacuum jumping like it was trying to escape Soldier’s hands. The music doubled its tempo, growing more erratic with every step the pair took toward its console.

“There is no history,” Demo spat. “I didn’t do it in the first place!”

“But you still took the contract!”

“Because you did first!”

There wasn’t so much music now as random mashing of keys, a pained wailing accompanying the stressed notes in an unholy shriek. A bolt of electricity shot from the glove collided with something on the piano seat, revealing a ghastly form in the middle of the two men.

“Maybe I would have gone back on it!” Soldier roared as he struggled to maintain control of the hose, writhing in his hands like a viper. “If you’d talked to me I would have known it wasn’t-”

“THAT SHOULDN’T BE MY RESPONSIBILITY.”

“WELL IT HAS TO BE SOMEBODY’S.”

As Soldier screamed his final words, the ghost between them joined in the crescendo. The two forces on either of its sides pulled and pulled at its edges, wind howling and light flashing until-

Demo and Soldier were thrown into opposite walls with a resounding crack.

Grimacing, Demo pushed himself up, rubbing away the white spots in his vision that their techno-vortex had left him with. When things were mostly clear, he blinked at the organ seat, finding no trace of the specter the power glove had briefly outlined.

“Did we get it?” Soldier asked, likewise suppressing aches as he got to his feet.

“Dunno.” Demo tapped a few buttons on his glove. “Well there’s only one reading now. Maybe we fried it?”

“Bag isn’t full,” Soldier noted, poking the vacuum. “Must’ve.”

“Hm. I suppose that was climactic enough. I’m fine with leaving if you are.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” Soldier said, already halfway to the door.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Demo grumbled, following him out. “Went down pretty easy, all things considered. Barely a quarter of ‘ole Merasmus’s hit points. Can’t believe Eyelander was scared of that.”

The Eyelander said nothing.

Demo stopped walking. “You alright, mate?” he asked over his shoulder to where Eyelander was sheathed.

Still, it didn’t respond. He pulled it out, a soft sssth in the now quiet music room, and held it in front of him. He was about to ask it again, when Eyelander finally blurted, “oh uh! Right, me. I’m fine, just peachy, how are you?”

Soldier paused, and turned on his heel. “RED. Why doesn’t your sword have a stupid accent anymore?”

“Uh, crap uh,” the sword sputtered. “Blimey is what I meant to say governor! Pip pip bob’s your uncle and all that!”

“You!” Demo said, squeezing the imposter ghost for all it was worth, to which it gave a tiny eep! “What have you done with Eyelander?”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be a problem right?” the geist said. “I can still be a haunted sword! And do whatever it is the old ghost did, but please don’t make me get out. I’ve been trapped in that organ for fifty years! I want to go, see the world, oh please oh please take me with you?”

“Maybe we let it,” Soldier snorted. “Can’t be any more annoying than the old one.”

“That’s not funny,” Demo snapped, then turned his singular glare to the sword. “Listen here you useless lump of ectoplasm, you tell me what you did with my friend or I’m going to turn your soul into sizzling anti-matter.”

“No!”

And to Demo’s shock, the sword went flying from his hands, shooting up into the room’s ceiling.

“No, I won’t go back!” Encased in an orange glow, the sword maneuvered under its own power, spinning wildly until it had become an airborne lawnmower blade. “Screw you guys!”

“Shite!” Demo said as he charged out after it as it went shooting into the hall.

He followed it all the way to the foyer again, sprinting around each corner just to keep it in sight, but when he arrived out of breath at the grand staircases he had to admit there was no catching it.

“Shite,” he repeated.

“What in the goddamn hell was that about?” Soldier had, of course, followed him back to the entrance. “Now we’re stuck here until we find it again. Couldn’t have withheld your groveling freak out for one damn second.”

“I wasn’t just going to let it steal Eyelander’s sword!” Demo retaliated.

“You and the fucking Eyelander,” Solder swore, helmet wobbling as a snarl curled on his features. “Always with the Eyelander. You care more about that sword than you do anyone else, and you always fucking pick it in the end.”

They were in each other’s faces once more, nose to nose as the manor creaked around them. Demo glared, and softly replied, “well maybe the sword is better company.”

That might have been the end of it any other time, but they were too close now, too entwined, and Soldier grabbed the front of Demo’s shirt. “…God damn you,” he muttered. His face rippled with something unrecognizable. “That’s what I mean. Maybe that wasn’t you in the video, but when you took that contract you started saying crap like that.”

A hard knot found itself in Demo’s throat. He ignored the beeping coming from his glove. “After hearing ‘I never liked you’ enough times, it’s hard not to believe it.”

“…We ever going to stop lying to each other?”

Demo pulled the hand from the front of his shirt. The beeping was growing incessantly loud but he blocked it out, only focusing on stamping away from the Soldier-

And not noticing when the chandelier above him gave an ominous jolt.

His head whipped up too late when the chain broke, the glove practically screaming as he froze in panic for split second-

The cacophany when the chandelier came down was earsplitting, hundreds of glass teardrops shattering on the marble floor below, crashing into each other as their frame became nothing more than a bent pile of metal. Demo wheezed, having been thrown into a solid surface for the second time in less then ten minutes, and his brain caught up enough to realize he wasn’t dead.

The Soldier, having tackled Demo to bring him out of the worse of the poltergeist’s attack, had taken the brunt of it. He winced, rolling onto the hip that didn’t have any glass stuck in it.

“Christ,” Demo hissed, staring at the broken fixture. “It really is trying to kill us now, isn’t it?”

“You threatened to atomize its soul,” Soldier grunted. “Can’t blame it.”

Demo’s eye reaffixed to the bleeding BLU, tongue catching on the question. “You-” But what was he even supposed to say?

Soldier avoided his gaze. “Shut it, maggot. This was merely a rescue based on contempt and rivalry—no one’s allowed to kill you but me, yadda yadda, you get the picture.”

“Soldier…”

Years of bitter hatred choked down whatever else he would have said, but they couldn’t stop the swell of concern as he watched blood bloom on Soldier’s jumpsuit.

“Here,” he said, getting to his knees and picking his way through the broken glass. “Let’s get you up.”

Soldier glared in suspicion. Their argument still hung hot, bar of iron glowing yet unforged, not sure what shape it was suppose to take. But the blood was moving steadily down Soldier’s leg, and with distaste he resigned himself to being lifted under one arm.

“I can do it myself, maggot,” Soldier said once Demo had helped him to the stairs and tried to push up his pant leg.

Demo stared at him for a moment, hand holding the bandage he’d torn from the jumpsuit’s opposite leg, eye unargumentative as he gazed at the Soldier. A few more seconds of reproach ticked by, but then Soldier sighed in resignation, glancing away as Demo tied up his leg.

When it was over, he wasted no time getting to his feet, refusing Demo’s arm this time. “Definitely can’t let that thing run wild now,” he said. “Get your stupid glove to tell us where it is.”

There was an obvious limp to his walk, but Demo knew he had survived worse. That Demo had put him through worse.

The Demoman tapped his wrist a few times and said, “this way.”

The second floor was just rows and rows of suits of armor. All of them identical, all of them leaning down menacingly as the mercenaries passed beneath, listening to the spooktralizer’s pulse become a steady companion. There was constant draft, a thrumming chill up Demo’s spine, and he tried to remind himself that ghosts had the power to get inside your head and trigger your fear response. The fact that the haunt had turned murderous was nothing to be worried about—that he was, in all reality, afraid of no ghost.

The nearest suit of armor vibrated, and he jumped three feet in the air.

So did Soldier, bristling like a cat and demanding, “show yourself Casper! I am not afraid of your pathetic saber rattling!”

In response, every suit in the hall lifted it arms.

Soldier yelped, and he and Demo found themselves back to back, their respective ghost hunting equipment bared in front of them. But they were surrounded, the suits jerking to life and taking their first halting steps off their pedestals, clanking stiffly at the two mercenaries. They were forced backwards, one step, then two, until suddenly Demo found himself on the ground, the creeping terror that he’d been repressing now roaring overpoweringly. It was just a mind trick, just a manipulation, but knowing that and being able to act were vastly different things—and as the ancient warriors drew closer, he reached out and clung desperately to the closest thing he could find.

Clang went the greaves in front of him, coming to a stop as the full-body rattle started again. Shaking and shaking and Demo didn’t look, burying his face in Soldier’s shoulder-

“Ayyyiiieeeeeee,” a voice screamed as something small and spectral went spinning out of the armor.

After several seconds of silence from the suits around them, Demo finally lifted his head. All the armor had gone stiff and immobile, and the only clue to their previous animation was the ghostly impression of a sword floating a few feet off the ground.

“Eyelander?” he blinked.

“Uhhhg…my rain gaurd…” the Eyelander’s apparition groaned. “What…urhg…what happened? …….And why are you two cuddling?”

Demo looked down to find Soldier was clinging to him just as tightly as Demo was to he. Soldier realized it at the same time, and immediately pushed Demo off him, saying, “I did not give you permission to use me for comfort and safety, maggot!”

“Oi! You were the one who started it!” Demo turned his attention to the Eyelander. “What the bloody hell was that about? You trying to make us crap our pants?”

“Urhg, I don’t know!” Eyelander snapped. “If I’m not concentrating on anything in particular I just end up doing ghost type things. Like how you just start making horse noises when you think you’re home alone.”

Soldier snickered. Demo shot him a glare.

Ignoring him, Soldier got to his feet and dusted himself off. “That’s one thing to check off the list.” He paused, inspecting the form floating before him. “…Why are you a sword?”

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, no, Soldier’s right,” Demo said, getting up as well. “You’re not in the blade anymore, you can look like anything you want! You used to be a mortal, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember okay?” it snapped. “That was centuries ago, I don’t know how to be anything but a ghost sword.”

“Aw, give it a shot mate,” Demo encouraged. “If we’re going to hunting around for the geist that stole your sword, you might as well try a new form.”

“…Alright, I guess I can give it a try.”

Slowly, the illusion in front of them melted, growing until it was humanoid, then rippling as details began to make its shape. The jaw strengthen, and a hole appeared in the right side its face, features sharpening until a near-copy of the Demoman stood next to the suit of armor. It was a hazy reflection, as though looking at himself in green glass, but a reflection just the same.

“Hey, don’t be me,” Demo said.

“Yeah, we already got enough of those,” Soldier added under his breath.

“Uhg,” it complained. “Sorry. You’re the most recent person I’ve been.” The uncanny valley was further emphasized that Eyelander forgot to move Demo’s mouth when it was speaking.

“Just be yourself,” Demo insisted, as much due to the ghost-him’s creepiness as the fact that he was a bit curious about who Eyelander used to be. “Go on, give it a shot.”

Grumbling without moving its mouth, the Eyelander began to change again, Demo’s features swept away as though lost on the wind. It grew inexorably, towering of the mortals below it like a warrior from myth; then it shrank, arms and ghostly blade disproportionately detailed like recalling a fighting feeling.

Both of these faded, other particulars bubbling up from the surface. A tartan hood crawled over the general shape of a head, plunging the face into inscrutability. From its shoulders sprung a cape, one that would have pooled across the ground if the mirage weren’t floating a half-foot off the stone. A thick tunic billowed, then fell down to the mirage’s knees, held in place by a sash across its chest.

The face beneath flickered. Morphing, becoming-

“Damn it,” Eyelander groaned as the features fell back into darkness, effort weakening its voice. “I really don’t remember.”

“Ach, it’s fine Eyelander,” he assured it, hearing the clear disappointment. “We’ll get your sword back in no time.”

“…Thanks mate.”

Suddenly, Soldier pushed past him, far roughing than necessary. “If the ghost is done having an identity crisis, lets get back to busting.”

Demo frowned after him, but according to the readings he was headed in the right direction, so he said nothing to it.

Eyelander was a different story. “OoooOOOoooo, jealous again are we?” Catching up to him was no problem when it could simply glide across the ground, cape fluttering behind it.

“Silence apparition!” Soldier stated. “You cannot get inside my head with your devil words, nor your OoooOOOoooo.”

Eyelander cackled, floating in front of him and forcing him to walk into it. He shivered as he passed through the ethereal dregs, breaking from his path and pivoting into the nearest set of doors. They found themselves in the grand library, tiers upon tiers of floor-to-ceiling books simply rotting in the dust. Cobwebs clung to everything, ancient lamps and moldering fainting couches, rendering the entire room silent.

“Touch a nerve?” Eyelander was enjoying its new ‘body’, swinging a spectral arm over Soldier’s shoulder that he was unable to shrug off. “Not still mad he likes me better than you?”

“Only goes to show how poor his taste is,” Soldier snapped.

Demo had to jog to catch up. The library’s various stone busts turned to watch him as he moved.

“Maybe, if he was hanging out with you to begin with,” Eyelander persisted. “Does that bother you, yankee doodle?”

“Eyelander, lay off him,” Demo said, surprising even himself when the words came out of his mouth. Soldier didn’t look, breathing heavily through his nose

“Why?” the ghost huffed. It was odd seeing the body language to accompany it for once, the entity folding its arms across its chest. “He’s the one who throws a fit whenever I’m around, and I’m bloody sick of it. Why should I have to put up with some moron you don’t want anything to do with?”

“Shut your nonexistent mouth!” Soldier was really heated now. “If you keep talking to me I will put my boot up so far up your ass you will feel it in the afterlife!”

“OoooOOOoooo,” Eyelander said, and it was a proper ghostly ooo that reverberated about the empty library. “I’m so scared. Should I start crying out in fear? That’s all a lout like you knows how to do, just yell until someone cries and then piss off entirely. Well guess what, eejit, he’s just fine without you.”

“I am warning you…” Soldier growled.

“Oh but that doesn’t stop you from getting all possessive does it?” Eyelander just goaded, heedless of anything else but its own petty revenge. “More possessive than me, and I’m the one possessing him! Is that the sort of bond you’re going for yank? Spending a lot of time in-”

With a furious scream, Soldier launched himself at the Eyelander. On instinct, it jerked to the side to try and avoid his murderous hands, but it didn’t matter either way as Soldier when flying through the ghost’s form and crashed into the bookcase behind it.

The bookcase swung like a revolving door, and Soldier disappeared from view.

Eyelander and Demo shared a glance. “Did that just…?” he asked.

“Hold on.” It glided forward, passing through the bookcase unimpeded. A moment later, it stuck its head back out through the wall and said, “aye! It’s a secret passage! Some stairs going down into a basement of some sort.”

“Stairs? Is Solder alright?” Demo worried as he came forward and tried to trigger whatever had moved the loose shelf.

The Eyelander stuck its head in, then back out again. “Eh, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Demo found him, if not exactly fine, then stabilized. His leg had started bleeding again, but the tumble down the basement stairs had shaken the fight out of him. He let Demo rebandage his injuries with barely a word.

“Good work finding the passage, lad,” Demo said, as though he didn’t feel a terrible heat of embarrassment on the back of his neck. “Based on the readings, that’s where the ghost is hiding.”

“Hm,” was all Soldier said. He wouldn’t look at either Demo or the levitating knight.

“…Eyelander, why don’t you float on ahead?” Demo said after a moment. “Scout things out a bit for us?”

“Yeah, sure. Not being bound to a mortal vessel anymore gives you a lot more free range of movement.”

Demo helped Soldier to his feet. Several long minutes were spent walking down a cold, damp tunnel, only illuminated by bulbs covered in metal grates that flickered in sync. When Eyelander had drifted far enough ahead in its impatience, Demo asked what had been on his mind since they’d come down here, spinning over as the guilt he’d been holding back for years weighed heavier on him than it ever had.

“…Jane?” he mumbled. The Soldier jumped at his real name. “What Eyelander said back there…have I really been…?”

“Don’t believe anything that comes out of that ghost’s pie hole! Its ghost pie hole! Where it puts its ghost pies!” Soldier barked hastily. “It is- I don’t-!”

Demo let Soldier sputter for a moment before frowning at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Soldier choked mid denial and whipped his head so hard his eyes showed wild underneath the helmet. “You- What?”

“You were right,” Demo rubbed his face. “About always lying to each other. Saying we didn’t care, just to make it easier. And you’re right that I treat my friends like crap sometimes, picking the sword—the job—over anybody else. So I fucked up too, believing their lies just as much, listening to them because it was the easiest.” He lifted his head, making eye contact with the alarmed Soldier. “So maybe I do pick the sword sometimes. But I never should have taken a bribe over my best friend.”

They’d stopped walking, Soldier just staring at him, mouth slightly open.

Soldier breathed in deep. “…Your best friend?”

Cautiously, taking care not to startle Soldier or his own frayed nerves, Demo reached out and held Soldier’s hand. He could hear Soldier’s labored breaths, even as the BLU looked down so steeply at their linked hands that his helmet obscured is whole face.

“Aye.”

Soldier’s mouth writhed a second longer before saying, “I’m sorry. Too. For all the crap I said to you after. I didn’t mean any of it either, I always liked you. I always…”

Demo squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk after we get my sword back, aye?”

Soldier finally lifted his chin, a grin of joyous relief across it. “Affirmative! We will beat the crap out of that weapon-stealing cheat, and then boot it back to kingdom come.”

“Our powers combined, eh?” Demo wiggled the fingers on the power glove.

Soldier lifted his hose. “Lets get this spirit-maggot!”

“Are you two coming?” the Eyelander demanded, reappearing in the grimy tunnel before them. “There’s this big evil laboratory at the end of the hall and the bell-end body-snatcher is just waiting for someone to come and kick its pommel.”

Demo grinned at his once-again best mate. “Don’t worry Eyelander, that bastard’s got another thing coming.”

The rescue squad stormed into the evil lab, magic and science and supernatural forces in hand. The room was exactly what you’d think: test tubes full of pulsating green goo, an open slab with leather straps around it, giant Tesla coils pointing all which way as though the whole space was ready to zap you at a moment’s notice.

“You!” Eyelander demanding, pointing a menacing spectral finger at the sword floating in the center of the room.

“Aw crap,” it said as it turned and saw the trio of ghostbusters that had come for its soul.

Immediately, it tried to make a run for it, zipping off on a trail of orange magic. But Soldier was faster, flipping the Hoover to ‘suck’ and immediately summoning a typhoon from the nozzle’s end. The geist shrieked as it was pulled backwards, forward momentum fighting against the suction until was it pulled taught mid-air. Demo wasn’t going to inadvertently help it this time, though. Instead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his best mate, and sent a pulse of magnetic energy to join the vacuum’s pull.

“NOOOOOooooo,” the geist screamed as it began to lose ground.

It still wasn’t enough. A humanoid shape was being drawn from the sword, but that only made it struggle harder, fighting tooth and nail as it screamed all the while.

The Eyelander’s spirit stormed forward. With both hands it gripped the sword, pulling away from its rival ghost with its impressive incorporeal biceps. The geist screamed harder, but in a three-on-one it was losing, even as it tried to wrench the hilt away. Eyelander grabbed above the crossguard, and a gush of ethereal blood splattered on the floor, but the extra leverage worked, and it ripped the blade free from enemy hands.

Eyelander reared back, and the ghost went falling into the vacuum with a scream.

The impact knocked Demo flat on his ass. It wasn’t as rough as the first explosion, but he still groaned as he sat up. “We get it this time?”

Soldier poked the bag, which moaned in protest. “Yup. We got it.”

“How about you Eyelander?” Demo got up and walked to where the sword had fallen. “Everything back in the bits?”

“Uhrg…my whole fuller hurts,” the blade on the floor said in what was definitely the Eyelander’s voice. “Put me back in my scabbard…I want a nap.”

Demo chuckled, and did as he was asked.

“Teamwork saves the day!” Soldier declared, walking up to the pair. “Goes to show what camaraderie and true American sprit can do.” He clapped Demo on the shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile.

“…Did I miss something?” Eyelander asked from its sling on Demo’s back.

“Nah,” Demo said. “Jane ‘n I just worked some things out. Don’t worry your pretty little locket about it.”

“We are best friends again!” Soldier was too excited to hold back. He grabbed Demo’s hand again and squeezed.

The two shared a look of shining eyes and full hearts.

“Yuck,” Eyelander noted. “Do I have to be here for this?”

“Ah, shut it,” Demo said. “We just saved your life.”

“I didn’t want to be brought along in the first place!”

“You hate being left alone at the base,” Demo pointed out.

“Yeah but that was before you brought ghosthunting into the picture. You should have known better! What if one of your stupid machines had malfunctioned and killed me instead?”

As they walked back up through the secret passage, Soldier leaned toward the scabbard and said, “looks like there’s trouble in paradise after all, huh.” Demo had never heard him be smugger.

“Keep grinning, eejit,” Eyelander grumbled. “Next time we get into battle I’m carving a new smile into your throat.”

Soldier snickered, and they left the manor victorious.

[mittensmorgul]

Death is one of my favorite characters in the history of Supernatural. OG Death AND Billie, both.

I feel like I needed to make that clear, because I’ve seen multiple versions of Dean’s first chat with Death from 5.21 floating around since 14.20 aired, and I think this actually merits some deeper considerations than “lol guess Chuck’s gonna bite it in the end, because the show said so back in s5.”

First, I’m gonna go all Doylist on this mofo with a few reality checks:

Kripke’s in-show avatar-- Chuck-- was about to peace himself tf outta the story, as Kripke himself was about to step down. And you know who wrote this episode? Who wrote this scene? I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

(It was Sera Gamble, aka the godkiller...)

Right as Sera was arranging things to set up the story she intended to start telling in s6. Where she retold the original story of family betrayal and sacrifice, elevating Cas to a form of mutant godhead only to snuff him in 7.02. And Death didn’t even get to do the deed, despite having been bound to the Winchesters and on the scene ready to snap his fingers, but Godstiel beat him to the snap... literally:

And then... and then the rest of s7 happened, until Carver was tapped to run s8 and forced her hand to bring Castiel back. 

(I won’t drag out all the receipts on the behind the scenes cringeworthy stuff that led to this, because it’s all out there again recently because of what has gone down on the Magicians, but suffice it to say... there was animosity...)

And Dabb, our plucky showrunner now, was there in the writing room through all of this. Since the first go-around of this Betrayal-Sacrifice narrative swirl. And it’s evident how exhausting he finds it based on the seasons he himself has run, beginning in the back half of s11 after Carver stepped aside... He had to keep running through the spiral, but what he highlighted over and over was the damn futility of it.

From the BMoL and their evil monster genocide and mindless obedience to their Code and black-and-white morality, to the utter pointlessness and single-mindedness of Michael and Lucifer-- in this and apparently ANY universe, they only know the single drama that brought forth their existence in the first place.

And Dabb told us that story at the end of s11, with the return of Chuck and his reunification with Amara, apparently healing the original rift that kicked off creation to begin with. Their reunification should have been the end of the cycle, right? Creation could be allowed to continue with the two of them again standing in balance to one another. But apparently even that wasn’t enough for Chuck. He didn’t want to let go of his favorite show. His original story kept playing out, staring “his guys.” Sam and Dean Winchester, with Cas by their side. Once again, Cas was “supposed to have died,” after Jack was born. The “new monster” in a story that had theoretically concluded Cas’s role (this is sarcasm, because this was Sera’s reason for killing Cas off in s6... she literally thought Cas’s part in the story was concluded, that he hadn’t become essential to the narrative). This makes the specific way Dabb had Dean grieve for Cas, and then the specific way Dabb brought him back, all the sweeter, honestly. It was essentially that grief arc from s7, told in a third the number of episodes, in explicit defiance of the original version.

And now Chuck has laid bare his villainy, which is more inability to see any other version of the story. He’s played out every possible variation of the Family Betrayal and Ultimate Sacrifice Angst Narrative that’s possible to play, but on this turn through the arc, in trying to force the despair-betrayal-sacrifice story that brings forth yet one more turn of the cosmic narrative, his characters have seen it enough to see through the spiral.

The Creator only knows one story. It’s HIS story. It’s the story of Creation itself, retelling itself over and over and over, and not even his resolution with Amara was enough to teach him a new story.

Maybe Chuck just hadn’t been willing to end it, because what is the Darkness but his own story’s personal ending? But his Creation has achieved sentience now, and wants to tell its own stories. 

But now Dabb is sitting in the driver’s seat. He’s been slowly steering us to a point where he can FINALLY jump lanes and pull off the narrative rotary. It’s just a matter of which direction he takes the story to the end.

So what do we know about DABB’S feelings about the original author of this story he’s clearly been lovingly retelling us for TWELVE YEARS?

Well, obviously he loves the story, you know? You don’t keep writing the same story for twelve years, taking over as showrunner for the last four and a half of those unless you truly love the characters and their journey. I mean, that’s why we write fanfic of these guys. WE UNDERSTAND HIS LOVE HERE.

Through him, we’ve been learning what these characters really want... they want a happy ending. They want to rest. They want to be able to lay down the baggage of their past and embrace the future without those burdens. THEY want off the ride that “Chuck” has been putting them through from the start.

But they are ALL finally at a mutual point of being unwilling to sacrifice what they HAVE in order to get that ending. They’re not willing to destroy the family they’ve built for it, and they’ve finally had a chance to face The Creator and say that to his face.

They just want to live their own lives. (borrowed from this post): 

But this is the struggle that Dabb has set up for the end of the road. This is him choosing an exit ramp. No matter which road he chose, it would’ve been a bumpy ride. But the fact that this is what the characters themselves are saying they want at this moment before the creator tries to take it all from them, I’m hopeful that the road they’re on will actually lead them to this ending.

They wouldn’t go back and want to erase their past, wouldn’t change what it took to get them to this point, because it’s made them the people they are, and they like the people they are. Just as I don’t think Dabb wants this story and characters that he obviously loves to suffer unrewarded at the end of this very long spiral, I don’t think he intends to destroy the original creator that gave us fifteen years of “our favorite show.” And “our guys.”

[insecwrites]

TFP Knock Out/ TFP Ultra Magnus Part 3

Fandom: Transformers Prime Pairing: Ultra Magnus/ Knock Out Tags: nsfw-ish, discussion of interface, perceived abuse of power, misunderstandings, post-war, sexual favors Summary: Knock Out does not feel safe. Vehicons and Autobots alike view him as a traitor or an untrustworthy mech, and there is nobody that Knock Out can go to for protection. The Autobots don’t work with favors and bribes after all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ultra Magnus, apparently, was even more difficult to read than Knock Out had expected.

For what felt like the thousandth time he stared at the file that Ultra Magnus had sent him during their second lunch. Just as asked, Magnus had provided an in-depth list on his expectations and his absolute no-no’s. That was within expectations. The things ON the list, however, were not at all what Knock Out had been expecting. From the way Ultra Magnus had reacted to the word ‘date’, he had assumed that the mech had been in it for the interface alone. And he mayyy have thought that that enthusiasm to invite him had stemmed from some… ahem. Unconventional tastes.

Instead, Ultra Magnus was almost shockingly uninteresting. The first thing he had listed as a ‘like’ was ‘prolonged post-interface contact if at all possible’. Cuddling, in other words. The second and third had been much the same, along the lines of wanting foreplay and the use of exclusively encouraging and kind words.   In all honesty, it read like world’s most bland and bizarrely written romance. There was an entire <em> section </em> on potential massages, together with little boxes of Knock Out to tick if he wanted to receive and give, and if he did which places were off limits.

He had created a whole new section called ‘miscellaneous questions’, which looked more like an in-depth interrogation written by a mech who was planning a romantic outing for a formal acquaintance.

Under ‘favourite poses’, Magnus had tentatively notted down the descriptions of a few. Not their names, just dry, awkward descriptions – Knock Out was starting to doubt if the mech even knew that there were names for interface positions. They weren’t particularly interesting positions either. No precarious balancing, no cables stretched to their limit, no binds or cuffs. Just… lying on top of one another with some hip movement. The kind of stuff you could just get from any random mech in a bar. …Then again, Magnus would probably not enter a bar unless the law demanded it of him.  

Knock Out frowned at the list and tapped his fingers on his thigh. There was a trap in here somewhere. Something he wasn’t seeing. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Magnus was a control freak and a dominant mech that wanted things done his way, and to only propose soft uninteresting stuff like this was just downright suspicious. Even for a mech with as much power as him, he wouldn’t go this far just for some cuddles and slow ‘facing… Right?

Knock Out dropped the datapad on the table in front of him and let himself fall back into his seat. Magnus just didn’t seem like the kind of mech that would jeapordize his standing and credibility for something this simple. Of course, Knock Out had nothing to gain by blabbing, but it was still such a risk to take! Why not ask for something a little more complex or rare?

Knock Out rolled his head back and stared up at the ceiling of his habsuite.

Could it be that Ultra Magnus was just that lonely? That he was <em> that </em> averse to socialising and putting in the effort of getting to know someone? Even at his most relaxed, he had been acting like a soldier under the watchful eye of his commander, so it wasn’t a stretch to think that he was just incapable of normal social interaction and wanted to get his frags through less complicated means. … Then again, if he was not interested in anything but the ‘facing, then why had he enthusiastically engaged Knock Out in a conversation about poetry? Why was his list full of fluffy soft stuff!?

He sighed and checked his chronometer. It was well beyond his usual recharge time He was not going to be able to figure out Magnus’ motive by thinking about it all night cycle, and he wasn’t going to ask the mech about it either, but it was just so hard to let the subject rest! He turned the datapad face down and dropped a polishing cloth on top of it. He had to stop thinking about this. If the answer was going to drop out of the sky it would have done so already.  

He walked over to his berth, offlined the lights, got comfortable, closed his optics, and waited for his recharge procotols to get going. Tomorrow in the night cycle would be their first ‘date’. Knock Out had filed for a few hours off duty to polish up and prepare himself for Magnus. It felt odd to think about their impending interface. Knock Out had never been shy of sharing himself with the world and enjoying all that it had to offer him, but that had been before Breakdown. He’d seen and touched every shade of paintjob out there – but he only remembered blue. He’d thought that he might run out of new interesting spicy things to try in berth, only to find that <em> anything </em> was good as long as he did it with Breakdown.

…Had he really not interfaced with anyone but Breakdown since he’d met him?

Knock Out wasn’t sure how interface would feel now that Breakdown wasn’t going to be his partner. It should matter too much - he wasn’t in Magnus’ berth for fun after all – but he needed to be at least riled up enough to go at it. Well, if the worst came to the worst… Ultra Magnus was blue and Knock Out was good at pretending. It would work out. He’d make sure of it.

-

Ultra Magnus had been doing well. In between the drafting of the contract between him and Knock Out, and the endless heaps of paperwork that always ended up on his desk, he hadn’t had the time to get worried or anxious. Now that their first true evening date was approaching, Magnus found that his mind was <em> making </em> time for worrying and anxiety, no matter how much he tried to lose himself in paperwork and routine check-ups.

From what he had been able to gather about successful relationships, mutual attraction was important – and interface was closely tied to that. Many of the booklets and pre-war articles he’d been able to find had called it the ‘glue’ of a relationship, implying that it was the only thing that held all of it together. Ultra Magnus did not exactly agree, but he knew his views were unconventional. The mecha that had proposed a relationship with him had certainly acted along the lines of these articles – when Magnus had said no to physical attraction and interfacing, they had quietly pulled out of his life.

He hadn’t suspected this would be a problem with Knock Out. With the clear and direct manner in which they had been interacting until now, it hadn’t crossed his mind that Knock Out could find his preferences… well. Boring.

Ultra Magnus had always had a low interface drive. The flames of passion that could sometimes consume mecha near completely, were more like cinders to him. On occasion they would burn red and orange as his optics caught a beautiful frame or as his olfactory sensors scented them on a breeze. More often than not, the coals would lose their colour near immediately and fall back into slumber. He was sure that he would be capable of pleasing his partner – but not if it required him to dip deeper into the world of … what was it called. Kink?

The things Knock Out had listed as no-go’s were things that Ultra Magnus had barely even known existed – let alone try them out for himself. He had had to look up what ‘Axlegrinding’ was, only to then lose a significant amount of time trying to understand why anyone would engage in that activity. That Knock Out knew of them spoke of far more experience in the way of interfacing, and Ultra Magnus had simply not considered that such experience might make common interface practises bland or uninteresting.

He had only really begun to consider that when he had given Knock Out his side of the contract. Knock Out’s reaction had been nothing short of bizarre – he had gone from calm and smooth to a more distracted state, and while Magnus had asked if anything was wrong, he had given a negatory answer.

Now, Ultra Magnus was forced to confront the fact that he was in fact more engaged in the success of this date than he had thought. The thought of failing Knock Out badly enough that the mech would put an end to their mutual courtship was unpleasant.

Knock Out had diverse opinions on a variety of topics which could fill at least a vorn’s worth of lunchtimes with engaging discussions, and he was more than fine with silence as well. Or, well, if silence fell for too long, Knock Out would simply fill the empty space with idle obervations and a recollection of that day’s duties. Especially the recollections of his day were much like reading reports, and without the task of spell checking and filing it was incredibly relaxing to listen to. In short; Knock Out was great company, and Ultra Magnus feared to lose him as he had his previous friends.

He would simply have to do his best to make their first night-date a good one.

Determinedly Ultra Magnus accessed his schedule and began replanning his next workcycle. He had saved up many free hours during his service and he was going to use them as effectively as he could; making sure that his date with Knock Out would go off without a hitch.

This chapter is a little shorter than the others, I feel, and also maybe a little less fun. Then again, some things needed to be said - or in this case, they needed to be thought ;) For anyone who is interested - I run a small tf discord. Maybe I’ll see you there?  https://discord.gg/gRJw2wJ