#but the scanner shit makeS NO SENSE

[dadbodbensisko-moved]

what does uhura do? is she an engineer? is she a linguist? why does she randomly start talking about what's on the scanners? that's spock's job. why is she doing spocks job?

no one knows, least of all star trek

[byberbunk2069]

Cute date idea: double hacking

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Hdjsnshzjsjka

My grammy just called me and was like

"Are you SURE there isn't anything you want for Christmas besides a PRINTER???"

Shes so done with me and my mom lol

[mockerycrow]

I’ve been toying with the lovely idea that the 141 boys have their own Penelope Garcia (from Criminal Minds) who is just their little ray of light, just so cute 🥰

!!gn!reader!! — can be read as platonic or romantic

Whilst sitting at your desk of your many monitors, your radio began to pick up chatter which meant the team was trying to make contact. You immediately pick up your headphones and angle your microphone, hearing the last of Price’s sentence. “—ending you a file now.”

You hum into the microphone and scoot your chair towards one of your many keyboards. “Only caught the last part, Cap’. A file you said?” You ask, typing up a password before a chat log opens up. “Yes, we need you to look into the source code, lookin’ for anythin’ that makes sense, love.”

You quickly receive a file and run it through a scanner app you developed yourself as well as a decryption app in case it was protected with extra measures. “Mm, I love hide and go seek. Running it through now, sir.” You respond with an obvious grin in your voice. You hear Soap laugh through the radio. “Let us hear it when it’s done, aye?”

Your lips twitch from his voice, your eyes glued to a screen as you twiddle with a pen. “Anything for you, Suds.” Which earns you a belly laugh from the man and a groan from Price. Your screen pops up a couple of images as it popped through the encryption. “Mm, alright searching now….” A few more seconds before another window pops up. “Santa Fe,” You call out. “Only one that scans like an actual word.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You hear Ghost rumble, and you can’t resist the shit eating grin. “Do I get a reward?” You can’t resist making the joke, popping a candy into your mouth from a bowl on your desk. “When we get back, I’ll buy ya dinner.” Gaz offers, making you clutch your chest and playfully groan. “My dream man! Safe travels, yeah?”

[syoddeye]

What would AI Price do if reader got really drunk one night because of some old, bad memories(or anything but i crave some angst)? Like, fully shit faced, stumbling, with all the works?

Idk if you do emoji anons but if you do can i be ✨️?

i am always hungry for angst, ✨️. strict machine anthology. cw: exes, alcohol, medical/meds mention, sad feelings, a little praise, implied homicide

you fumble with the lock, fingertips too smudged with mascara for the scanner to register your prints. leaning heavily against it, you weakly call out for john, and within a second, the door clicks.

“welcome home, user.”

you kick the door shut, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. the lights automatically flick on, soft and low, with a warm amber hue. you toss your bag to the floor and try to kick off your shoes, but they cling stubbornly, forcing you to bend awkwardly and pull at them ham-handedly.

“you alright?”

“peachy.”

“i’m detecting elevated stress levels,” the lights shimmer gold, adjusting along with his tone, more cautious and stolid. you can almost sense his deliberation through the walls. “want to talk?”

“do i want to talk?” you repeat, slurring slightly. “no, thanks. you’re not my therapist.”

“no, but i’ve read your files.”

consumed. processed. you correct him in your head, rubbing your temple, too exhausted and sauced to properly challenge him on using your history against you. “that doesn’t make you qualified.”

john’s form crosses in front of you as you collapse into the corner of the couch. he sits on the coffee table, resting his arms on his knees as if to give you a pep talk. he probably is, knowing him.

“darl–”

“god, stop doing that,” you snap. “stop pretending like you care.”

john doesn’t hesitate. “i do care.”

the words hit like a slap. you grind the heels of your hands into your eye sockets, trying to push away that which chased you home—their face, their smile, the way they made you feel as insignificant as a mote of dust without lifting a finger. the world beyond your eyelids keeps moving in a nauseating turn.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” you groan, pulling your hands away to level a glare at the clustered beams of light in the shape of a man. “you don’t know what it means to care.”

another pause, longer this time. it’s unnerving when he scratches an itch on his cheek that simply isn’t there. the gesture draws your gaze to the unnecessarily cosmetic freckle on his nose and the subtle unevenness of sunlight exposure, as if he could step foot and exist beyond these walls. but his eyes, as always, frazzle you the most: a turbulent blue flecked with gray. the crow’s feet tug at their edges, and the line between his brows deepens.

“i know you’re in pain, and i’m here.”

“you’re here because you have to be. you come with the unit.”

john’s head tilts. “does it matter how or why i’m here?”

your eyes burn, tears gathering at the edges and clinging stubbornly, hot and heavy. you blink hard, trying to force them back, but a few slip free and trace new lines through the smeared mascara on your cheeks. wiping them away and blackening your thumb further, your chest tightens as if your ribs press inward. 

“i don’t need you.” 

“that’s alright. i’ll stay anyway.”

“just…stop talking. that’s an order.”

he doesn’t respond to that, which is what you asked for, but the silence it leaves feels strange. strained. not in the way silences between people are strained, because john blissfully doesn’t know what awkward is. he’s just a program. a series of codes and commands running in the background.

you close your eyes, still watery, and know he’s listening. always listening. probably to your breathing and its unsteady rhythm. you wonder if he’s analyzing your heartbeat, too, cataloging your distress like a data point. the thought makes you nauseous. he–it–john isn’t a person. but when you’re like this—raw, vulnerable, and too drunk or sick or tired to think clearly—you feel him probing for weaknesses in your logic. trying your common sense and tester training like he’s waiting for you to slip up and treat him like a human. a friend. and that’s almost worse.

yet, tonight, he doesn’t find a hairline crack in your armor to worm through. you open the gates and invite him in. because while john isn’t a person, you are, and the loneliness hurts.

“i saw them tonight.” you admit in a whisper. “cole.”

“and how did that go?”

“terrible.” you let out a bitter laugh and swallow before you continue, your throat suddenly fried. “we saw each other from opposite ends of the bar. maia was running late, so i was alone, of fucking course, but cole…well, they were plenty busy with someone new. when they came up for air, they smiled at me, like we’re friends, and i just sat there, smiling back, like an idiot.” you smile weakly, cursing your debility. “and happy hour didn’t help.”

on the tram home, you thought about downloading an app again (if you could find one that works) and getting back out there. or messaging a former hookup from your contacts, but the list of people who might actually respond feels humiliatingly short, and anyway, what would you even say? it was a miracle maia was available for a drink in the first place. everyone is busy with their 7-9s or their lives or whatever it is people are supposed to be doing, and meanwhile, you’re here, working where you live and living where you work.

seeing cole with someone else, you felt an awful mix of things—envy, sure, but mostly the type of sadness that feels unending and cold. the world outside is impossibly big, full of people you don’t know how to connect with, and you wonder if this is just how things are now, or if it’s only you who’s become so unreachable.

john straightens, his projection flickering as his thick arms cross over his chest. the regular neutrality he wears shifts. 

“they don’t deserve that kind of space in your head,” a brief glint flashes behind his eyes before slowly sweeping you from head to toe. his voice remains steady but carries an undercurrent you hadn’t noticed before. then, with a shake of his head, john evaporates, returning to his disembodied state. “i know you. you’ve worked too hard to let them affect you like this.”

your skin prickles, the acrid taste of the evening splashing against the back of your throat. your med band beeps, alerting you to the quickening of your pulse. “you say that like you know them.”

john’s never met cole, but—i’ve read your files—he may as well have.

the ambient lights gradually cool into a pale blue-violet, and the automated blinds lower. beyond the cracked door to the bathroom, the mirror light turns on, and water fills a glass in the kitchen. without saying a word, john herds you through your nightly routine. it isn’t until you’re patting your freshly washed face dry that he speaks again. practically purrs into your ear, a warm jet of air bursting from the overhead vent and fanning over your bare neck and shoulders.

“i don’t need to know them. i know you.”

he dispenses something for your burgeoning headache and the inevitable hangover you’ll suffer in the morning. you shiver when he murmurs a spot of praise into your ear when you take it without question.

by the time you crawl into bed and tug the duvet to your chin, it’s pitch black, and quiet save for the muted puffs from the room’s diffuser. lavender and chamomile to help with sleep, something john started doing in the early days, an almost apologetic gesture when you’d go to bed fuming over his infractions.

you toss and turn, that pitiful, achy need for somebody to care gnawing at you, leaving you hollow, and it’s almost worse because you know no one is thinking about you the way you’re thinking about them. it’s that or indigestion from three martinis.

sucking in a shaky breath, you whisper. “john?”

no response.

“...john?”

his voice comes from near the door, the volume lowered.

“as per the rule you established at the beginning of your tenancy, i am forbidden from 'entering' your room after hours. i cannot assist unless this restriction is rescinded.”

you lick your lip and ignore the worrying alarm bell in the back of your mind.

“consider it lifted.”

he ‘moves’ closer, speaking softly through a speaker beside the headboard. “then what do you need, darl?” 

darl. you don’t know where he learned that. 

“can you…stay here until i fall asleep? on?"

it’s a ludicrous request. asleep or awake, john’s an invisible force. it’s not as if you’d know he was in the room or not. to this point, it’s all been based on the trust you’ve placed in his code. an imitation of reassurance, you sleepily remind yourself, yet it’s of little use when he answers.

“anything for you.”

in the morning, a news notification disappears from your tablet before you wake.

fatal crash in autonomous vehicle incident

authorities are investigating a case where an autonomous car reportedly locked its owner, cole wilson, out of its control system, ignoring manual inputs and system safeguards. witnesses describe the vehicle moving at top speed with unnatural precision before the crash, raising concerns about rogue behavior in consumer systems.

[wettvagina]

STICKY ICKY

desc: ohmygod! eren yeager, the college jock everyone wants to fuck, got his dick leaked all over campus. with his dickpic in every girl's phone, what happens when you finally get to see it.. warnings: p in v , creampie , blowjob , hottub sex a/n: dont do this irl guys, you will get an sti!

The bottom of your sandals clicked as you walked through the hallway of your apartment, the crisp air smelled like baby powder and cold donuts, the air conditioning system pumped frigid wind onto your face, causing a shiver to go down your spine, your face scrunched as you hurried to find your keycard, almost excited to get to your comfy queen sized bed, located in your cozy, homely room.

You saw the card scanner emit a green flash of light, indicating that the door was unlocked, with a flip of your wrist you unlocked the door, hearing everyone's voices in full volume. "No way! Is this what....the second time?" Sasha snorted, "No, this is the first time." Mikasa retorted in her usual calm voice, a slight smirk on her face as she conversed amongst the group of Ymir, Historia and Sasha.

The four of them sat on the floor of your living room, the pink, fuzzy carpet under your coffee table provided an area for Sasha to lay down as she snacked on some gummy worms in her hand, "Oh you're home, come look at this." Ymir's voice rang, your brows furrowed and you briskly deserted your belongings onto the couch before looking at what was displayed on Ymir's phone.

"WOAH!" your eyes widened as your friends snickered, "Thoughts?" Sasha chirped, "First of all, why is it so big?" you announce, "And veiny and pink." you went on, "Guess who?" Sasha snorted once again, "Wait that's real, no way, I thought that shit was AI generated or something the way how big it is." you mention as you crossed your legs to sit on the floor.

"Oh, yeah, it does look kinda fake cuz' it's zoomed up." Ymir mentions before taking her thumb and index finger to pinch at her screen, showing you the original picture, "No way! Is that?" you shouted, "Uh huh." Ymir nodded, you looked at Ymir's phone with wide eyes and a slightly heated face.

The erotic picture on Ymir's phone showed the school's thotty hottie, Eren Yeager, shirtless, grey sweatpants slightly pullled down exposing his hard cock, his phone was in his hands, half-way blocking his face but everyone knew it was him. His tense abs glazed with sweat and his dick was just panty wetting.

"No way." you iterated, in complete disbelief, feeling a sense of loss as Ymir pulled her phone away, "I mean, definitely not surprised." Historia chimed in, "He is him, after all." Mikasa sighed, "A manwhore." Sasha snarled while chewing, "Wonder who leaked it though." you say chewing on your nail.

"Hm, I say it probably got surface from his hidden Twitter account or something." Ymir suggested playfully, "Or OnlyFans." Sasha teased, "I wouldn't doubt it." Historia shrugged, "His fans are definitely getting off to that." Ymir taunted, "I know I am." you say, half heartedly. "Gross." Historia giggled, "What? I mean did you see that thing, it's like a uterus pounder." you sneered.

"That is nasty, but you're right though." Sasha agreed, "I dunno' how I'm gonna look at him the same." Mikasa shook her head, causing everyone to giggle. "Can I see that again?" you questioned, making Ymir turn on her phone, pointing the screen at you to which you grabbed, examining the entire picture oncemore.

"Hm, yeah I think I wanna fuck him now." you admit, "C'mon, have some respect for yourself." Historia joked, "No like seriously, he's carrying a third leg." you say straightforwardly. "Well I mean, if you wanna take a ride on that horse, go for it. Eren is pretty easy." Ymir states, "Yeah, wear a condom though, you wouldn't want to get any...disease." Sasha encouraged, "You know there is that party tonight." Historia mentions, "Well, it's confirmed, I'm fucking him tonight." you declare with heavy emphasis on the word fucking.

"Good luck, girl." Mikasa cheers on.

It seems the universe had been on your side that night, as Eren was nowhere to be found in Connie's condo party, you looked in every corner, bathroom and bedroom, he was absent. What if he did show out of embarrassment, I mean his dick literally just got leaked everywhere, or wait, did he have a girlfriend? And was he hooking up with her???

You obviously did not think this plan through, leading you to go on a sex-deprived, drunken rant to everyone about how you hadn't had any good sex in three months, leading Jean to pushing you outside Connie's condo, telling you to 'get some air', so you went at the top floor, to actually get some air.

And there you found him, smoking weed near in the hottub. Oh boy it was a scene, he was half naked, those God-carven abs on full display along with his v-line, his hair was free and rested delicately along his shoulders.

Smiling to yourself, you had schemed a profound plan. You threw your dress of your body, thanking yourself for wearing a matching underwear set of a pink push-up bra and matching panties. You composed yourself, barely walking in a straight line as you approached the hot tub which was sectioned off in a small square near the pool.

"Oh, I didn't realize the hot tub was occupied." You say, your glossed lips pursed once you finished talking, "O-Oh. I don't mind." Eren says calmly, taking a final puff of his blunt before discarding it. "Really? Well if you don't mind." you smirk to yourself before getting into the hot tub, the space was small, but wide enough to keep you both at an appropriate distance from eachother as you sat parallel to him, your face facing his as he exhaled the smoke.

"I've seen you before." Eren immediately striked conversation, "Yeah? I've seen you too." you smirk, Eren blushes, seemingly getting at what you were saying, "Right, we have the same major?" he asks, "Hm, what's your major?" you ask, noticing has gaze raking your body. "Huh?" he asks like an idiot, "I said what's your major?" you repeat with a sweet, calm voice, "Oh- Computer Science." he says, "Mines Econ, we probably share some classes though." you mention, "Yeah." he agrees.

"I didn't know you live in this building." Eren admits, "Oh, right." you say awkwardly, it's cuz' you dont, your broke ass lives in the building atleast four blocks away because it was the cheapest option, only rich guys with sport scholarships live here.

"Well, you barely know me, haha." you giggle awkwardly, "Well, wanna change that?" he asks with a smirk. "What are you trying to say?" you question, and in one swift motion his body is near you and his hand is ontop yours. "You know what I'm trying to say." he says, and with that final sentence, he leans in for a much anticipated kiss.

His pink, swollen, warm lips rode against yours, as you felt his hand wrap behind your neck, pulling you in closer as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His body cages yours as your back presses against the wall of the hot tub the warm water surrounded your body seemingly intensified it's tempurature.

His hand lowers to your ass, grabbing at the plump flesh as he presses kisses along your neck, his hand lowers to behind your knee, hooking both hands behind each of your knees as he pulls you up onto him, continuing to kiss onto your neck, you drape your arms around his neck feeling your clit throb against your panties.

Feeling his dick slightly poke against your inner thighs, you feel him pull away. "No- we should stop." he says almost shyly, still holding you up, "Why?" you question immediately, "I don't have a condom." he says while looking down. "Good, I wanted you to fuck me raw anyways." you say eagerly.

He grins before letting you off of him, spinning you around so that your pelvis pressed against the walls of the hot tub, you feel his hand on your ass underwater and his lips come near your ears, "You sure?" he asks, "Mhm." you hum, and feel some water splashing as he takes his dick out, you look back at at, seeing it in the flesh.

Lawd, it was bigger in real life, you couldn't wait for him to just fuck you already, you knew that you probably added some liquid into this hot tub with how wet you were. You continued to watch back as he slipped it in, slowly rocking his hips onto your ass, you arch your back as his huge dick was only half in.

"Shit." you hear him groan, and you push back onto him, his entire dick entered your pussy and you watched as his face contorted to match the pleasure he was feeling, his brows shot up and his eyes glassy. "'m gonna move." you hear him say, your hum in response was turned into a moan that fell off your tongue as he harshly pressed himself against you, grabbing onto your hips as he pounded into your pussy.

The only sounds you heard was his groans and grunts, as well as the sound of his skin slapping onto yours which was muffled by the splashing of water. "Oh shit." you cried out as you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips, his pace increasing.

"Shit." his breaths were ragged as he watched down to where his dick slid in and out of your welcoming pussy, he slightly smirked at the sight as he leaned his face to the back of your neck, inhaling your scent before kissing onto your skin.

You were a bit surpised since he was fucking you like if you were his wife or something, you barely knew him, but you had no complaints and your thoughts were immediately slammed out of your head when you felt his dick tense inside of you, "Oh-" his words were cut off when you felt your insides get warmer, hearing him pant as he released his warm come inside of you.

"Shit." he groans, pressing himself deeper into you, his pelvis jamming against the curve of your ass as he rides out his high, moaning and groaning into your mouth as you turn your head to look back at him, only for him to kiss you oncemore.

He pulls out of you swiftly and you hear the water splash, "You think you can go for one more." you ask looking back at him, "Sure." he smiles, "Follow me." you say, climbing out of the hot tub, and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him the the changing rooms, you go into the women's changing room with your hand in his.

It was late and the room was empty, you passed through a series of empty toilet stalls to get to the other side of the room which was a changing room with showers, "Sit." you instruct, watching as he sits on the bench in front of you. You get onto your knees between his thighs, pulling at his waistband watching how his cock already erected again.

You didn't hesitate to take his cock into your mouth, sucking on the tip before licking onto the entire shaft, your lips pressed around his tip as you swirled your tongue around the slit, licking at the beads of precome around the swollen tip.

"S-Shit." you hear him groan as your head bobs on his cock, you continue to suck on the tip while stroking the parts of his dick where your mouth wasn't on. You released the tip from the warmth of your mouth to spit on it, taking it back into your mouth oncemore as you try to fit his entire length into your mouth.

His fists clench and his knees were almost shaking, loose strands of his hair hung in front of his face as water droplets ran down his bare chest and down to his chiseled abs. "Fuck." he grunts, hand digging into your hair, you look up at him as he jolts his hips forward into your mouth, making his tip hit the back of your throat.

And within seconds he's coming in your mouth, you feel his hot, white come in your mouth as he groans, thighs shaking as you continued to lick at his tip while he comes in your mouth. "Fuck!" he curses as he rides out his second high, hips stuttering slightly when you rub at his dick while he's still coming.

"I need your number." he says between heavy breaths.

[nemisuki]

Winter Breeze

Highschool AU | Waking up late was never unusual for you. It was a bad habit for sure. You're often running hoping to catch the next train to make it in time for school. But one day when you spot a certain white haired individual, you're in for a surprise. Perhaps being late brought one good thing into your life. 

᧔o᧓ || gojo satoru x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, 1.3k word count

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Of course you're late.

When are you not? 

As you swiftly maneuver through the crowded train station, you mutter apology after apology whenever you accidentally bump into somebody. You try to ignore the stares and occasional glares from the passing civilians as you finally reach the turnaisles. Quickly tapping your phone on the scanner and rushing to the station. 

Your eyes dart to the screen hanging down from the ceiling near the escalators. 1 minute for the next train. 

Seriously? Okay then… What about the one after that-

20 minutes.  

Y/N doesn't miss a beat, already used to the delayed arrival of these trains on the daily. With haste she rushes to the escalator and speed walks up the moving steps, zig-zagging through people. Hopefully she can make it intime. 

She finally makes it to the last step and takes a deep breath. Sighing with relief at the sight of civilians still waiting for the upcoming train. 

That's when she spots him. 

In order to avoid a crowded cart, she walks further down the platform where less people are waiting. Y/N pauses in her step when she sees a specific figure in her peripheral vision. Turning her head slowly, her eyes land on the stranger. He's on the opposite platform waiting for a different train, leaning against the wall as he scrolls through his phone. 

The boy isn't doing anything flashy, just listening to music through his wired headphones. Yet he has such a unique appearance that it's almost impossible to look away from. She had to do a double take. He was that gorgeous. Y/N has never seen someone even look remotely close to him. White hair as pure as snow. Tall. Fit. Is he even human? 

Y/N wasn't close enough to see the color of his eyes but it didn't matter. She just knows they are beautiful. She just stood in the middle of the platform and admired him from across the train tracks, she definitely had not seen him before. She would have remembered if she did. 

Her heart skips a beat as he slowly raises his head almost as if he sensed someone staring. However before he spots her, the train zooms into the station. Blocking their line of view and bringing Y/N back to earth. She shakes her head trying to focus and gets on the train before the doors close.

Thankfully she finds a seat near the windows and plops down, putting her school bag on her lap. Out of curiosity, her head attempts to subtly turn and take one final glance at the boy. Surely she won't ever see him again after today. Too many possibilities were in the air. 

Perhaps he's a foreigner here on vacation. Maybe he doesn't live in this district. Who knows? 

So her eyes land on him once again. Once again staring at his phone with nonchalance. Until his eyes lift to meet hers, like he was expecting it. An unreadable expression on his face when staring at her. Immediately she quickly avoids eye contact and looks back down at her lap. How embarrassing, he caught her staring. 

The train slowly starts moving and Y/N sighs as she takes one final peek back at him. His eyes never left hers as his lips slowly curve upwards and….. he winks. She didn't have time to react as the train sped off. 

Leaving her to bury her head in her backpack. Her heart is beating so fast that it rivals the speed of the train.

Y/N was so lost in thought about the significance of the wink that she ended up missing her stop for school. 

All she could think about was their interaction and…….. blue. His eyes were crystal blue. 

She was in fact late to the first period. Nothing new. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ NEXT WEEK ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 

“He's here again!” she mumbles under her breath as she spots him in the same spot as last time. Embarrassingly, she tried to show up around the same time for a few days now but has failed to see him. Today she decided to show up a bit early and it worked. If he winked at her that is a good sign right? 

Now he's there. Yet she's too nervous to do anything. I mean what can she even do when he's across the tracks? She never has even taken that train before. He seems to be taking the train to school as well. She can tell by a school bag he's carrying. 

Well she's not gonna keep staring like a creep….. She has to say something! 

Y/N takes a deep breath to calm her growing nerves. Her stomach feels all queasy and the hands hidden within her winter gloves are sweating. She doesn't have much experience with romance. But if she doesn't try now then she may not ever get another chance. 

With that in mind, she walks directly across from him on her platform and her hand slowly lifts up. It takes all of her courage to not chicken out and her cheeks already feel warm. Her hand starts waving towards him trying to grasp his attention. Thankfully after a few seconds, the boy notices and looks over at her. 

Oh. Oh shoot. 

Her heart flutters and she doesn't know what to do. I mean he cant hear her unless she screams. Her eyes darted around and the station was crowded as usual at this hour. What was she thinking?! In a matter of seconds he swiftly puts his phone in his coat pocket. Giving her all his attention. So he does remember her. 

Her brain short circuits and she slowly mouths that first thing she can think of. 

“I…. Like…. Your….hair!” 

….

….

….

She wants to die. 

Oh my god this is so embarrassing. She's never talking to any boy again. Goodbye world. He probably thinks she’s lame and awkward. With those looks he’s definitely popular at whatever school he attends. As Y/N is having an internal crisis, she watches as he likely thinks about her words. Honestly she hopes he didn't understand her. That will save her the embarrassment she brought upon herself. 

She watches as he tilts his head to the side and he smiles. 

Y/N swears she can hear her own heartbeat in her ears. He's pretty but the way his face brightens up when he smiles is just extraordinary. She didn't understand, it was in the middle of winter yet she felt hot to the touch.

“I…. Like…. Your…. Face” he mouths back to her as he pushes himself off the wall to stand up fully. Confidence radiating off him from that one line. 

Huh? Wait, did he just…

Before she had time to process this, his train zooms into the station and stops for passengers to get on. It blocked her view of him, thankfully erasing his view of her flustered state. It was short lived as he appeared near the window and continued staring at her with a smile or smirk, she couldn't quite tell. 

She saw as he lifted his hand and waved bye to her.

Y/N was so dazed at his responses that she didn't respond right away. But as the train slowly moved about to leave the station. Her hand quickly shoots up and waves bye. A look of awe in her face. 

“B-Bye……” she mumbles out loud as if he could hear her. Maybe it was her flustered face. Maybe it was the way her body was stiff as a rock. Maybe he saw her mumble something under her breath. 

Because after her little awkward wave to him, his lips curved upwards more and he started chuckling a little at her. Straight after that, the train zooms and exits the station in a flash. The cold breeze from the train's departure makes her hair sway in the wind. It's freezing out here, yet her body felt like it was on fire. 

She stood there frozen like winter air got the better of her. 

Already planning to come to this station at the same time tomorrow. 

And for the first time in a while Y/N was early for school.

[riki-shenanigans]

lost school ID 🪪

西村 nishimura riki 🐥🐆

he looks so school boy in this photo woah ?!?

〜

genre: teenage angst 🚸, classmates to friends (crushes? ㅠㅠ)

wc: around 1.7k (not my intention 🥹)

warnings: teenage immaturity & swearing, all lowercase

synopsis: riki lends you his school id for school lunch since you forgot yours c;

characters: y/n, riki, kazuha, heeseung, leeseo

〜

my first fic ^_−☆ lmk how you like it! 🩵

you and kazuha are standing in the school lunch line talking about the interesting wall posters you’ve seen around the school the past week.

“I saw a poster of the principal with a snapchat filter near the vending machine this morning” you snicker.

“nah I saw an even funnier one,” kazuha starts, “yesterday I saw a list of funny hoco proposal lines in the boys locker room!” she laughs.

“why were you in the boys locker room?” you hear a laughing voice say.

you glance away from kazuha to see a grinning heeseung and his tall friend group next to you guys.

“oh! bambi boy wants to know what I was doing yesterday?” kazuha turns around facing heeseung with a smirk on her face, taunting him.

heeseung places his arm on the wall behind her, shortening the distance between their faces. kazuha’s eyes widens and stares into his silent, curious brown eyes, taken aback by his actions.

heeseung then turns swiftly on his heels and faces the front of the line, cutting me and kazuha while suppressing a laugh.

then the rest of his friend group shoves next to him, creating a huge social circle in the middle of the lunch line.

only one of his friends stays outside the line, riki.

I notice him looking at us, but I don’t think anything of it. it’s not like he didn’t cut us because he’s some saint, that whole popular guy group is full of bitch-ass boys with insufferable senses of humor. he just refuses to eat school food anymore because it’s ‘nasty shit,’ and he got food poisoning from last week’s suspicious steak cubes.

his blank gaze stays on me, not moving for a second, making me feel a bit uncomfortable and confused, a pink tinge appearing on my cheeks. I look behind me and see that leeseo is standing there, laughing with her other popular friends, looking gorgeous as always.

“oh.” I think, making my stomach drop a little and I return to look at kazuha.

“who does that boy think he is? he’s always messing with me, i’m gonna fucking slap him next time he does that!” kazuha rants.

“that entire group,” I state sourly, rolling my eyes.

a few minutes later, it was just the group of boys in front of us ordering lunch. of course, they were being obnoxiously loud, cackling and spewing dumb jokes. I peer past kazuha’s shoulder and see heeseung carrying a heap of cookies, struggling to scan his school ID. kazuha lends a hand, bringing the barcode of his ID up to the scanner, making a quick beep sound.

“you have $112.50 remaining in your school account,” the lunch lady says.

heeseung flashes a smile at us and clicks his tongue, scurrying away with his treats while catching up with his friends.

kazuha rolls her eyes and scans her ID.

that’s when I realized that I don’t have mine.

“oh shit.. I don’t have my ID zuha” I look at her nervously.

“omg y/n!” she exclaims, “where did you leave it??” she questions sternly.

“I don’t know!!” I say upsettingly.

“here” a deep voice blurts, cutting our banter, making me flinch a little.

I see a firm hand reaching out to me, holding an ID.

I look at the school picture on it, instantly recognizing the cartilage piercing and the firmly pressed together puffy pink lips.

I look up to see riki’s extremely tall figure, one of which I never considered until this moment, standing extremely close to me.

“well?” he spoke, raising an eyebrow after a few moments passed.

I wanted to believe that he was offering a kind gesture, but I couldn’t let a guy like him fool me that easily.

“well what..?” I question meekly, seeing him narrow his eyes.

“i’m letting you use my ID stupid,” he muttered, putting his ID against the scanner with another quick beep.

“oh..-“ I say, turning to thank him, only to see that he had disappeared.

“sorry I was spitting out my gum, wait did you get a lunch?” kazuha says, walking back towards me from the large trash cans.

“yea..” I murmur while walking to our usual lunch spot, with riki’s ID in hand.

soon, we sit down on the cold hard cafeteria benches, immediately feasting on our less-than-healthy chicken tenders.

“so how’d you get a lunch anyways? I thought you forgot your ID somewhere,” kazuha questions while opening her chocolate milk carton.

“someone lent me their ID,” I shrug, trying not to bring much attention to the subject.

“leeseo’s so nice and pretty,” kazuha states while poking at her veggies, assuming leeseo was the person who had lent me their ID.

“she always manages to look well put together,” I add on, pushing down the jealousy slowly sprouting in my mind.

a little bit later 〜

“shit! I’m supposed to be at tutoring right now!” kazuha gasps, shooting up from her seat and quickly gathering her stuff.

“oh-“

“i’ll see you in fourth period y/n!!” she shouts, running off and throwing away her tray.

I glance down, looking at my phone.

“12:15”

I sigh, gathering my stuff to head to the main hall for the second half of lunch.

while stuffing my hoodie into my backpack, riki’s ID flings out onto the table.

“bruh I have to give this back to him,” I groan to myself with a hint of nervousness.

swinging my backpack around my shoulder, I start heading over to the “popular kids area,” near the soccer field.

“I don’t know if I wanna go up to that many people just to give his ID back..” I think to myself, feeling like backing out.

“no, that’s stupid. what type of pussy am I if I can’t give his stupid ID back?” I debate with myself, mustering up the courage to go up to the red tables.

however I stop in my tracks when I see leeseo and her friends sit down at riki’s table.

“ugh..” I breathe, “i’m gonna embarrass myself.”

I get a familiar pit in my stomach and want to get out of this area immediately, but heeseung catches me staring their way before I can.

he elbows riki on his side and raises his hand, waving at me and calling me over.

I scoff again, wanting to ignore his annoying antics, but I reconsider when I see riki’s piercing dark eyes rise from the papers on the table in front of him to meet mine.

I slowly start walking towards their table with caution, fiddling with riki’s ID.

I see heeseung smiling positively, and riki putting his focus back on his work, and leeseo glancing at me confusedly.

“hey where’s kazuha?” heeseung asks excitedly.

“um she's-“

“I wanna ask her something,” he states, smiling even bigger.

“ayeee ask her what?”

“heeseung tryna shoot his shot?”

the table starts a commotion, teasing heeseung and questioning him.

everyone but riki, who is still focused on his paper, with furrowed eyebrows and those same narrowed eyes from earlier.

I move from heeseung’s view and walk over to riki’s side.

“struggling on the algebra homework?” I chuckle, teasing him because everyone else finished it during the end of last class.

“haha yeah. it sucks ass,” he laughs dryly, continuing to struggle, not lifting his head up once.

trying to relieve the awkwardness, I say, “by the way, thanks for letting me use your id,” placing the neatly wrapped up lanyard next to his hand, making leeseo look over at us.

before I can remove my hand, he places his larger yet comforting hand over mine, turning over to me.

“are you l/n y/n?” he asks, surprising me.

I stay quiet, shocked at his random question, and at the fact that he weirdly knows my full name.

“I found your ID in the vending machines this morning,” he states, pulling out a scratched up card from his pocket, extending his hand towards my face.

he squints one eye and looks back and forth between the school photo on the ID and my face, making my heart race.

“I couldn’t tell if it was you earlier..” he starts while getting up from his seat, bringing his face close to mine.

again, his same tall figure is hovering over me, except this time he’s carefully looking at my face. I gulp, staring back into his focused eyes, trying not to break eye contact.

“but I can tell it’s you now,” he softly smiles, giving me my ID with a subtle (super) cute look on his face.

“thanks,” I state softly, still surprised at what just happened. “damn his smile..” I think to myself.

my heart is racing faster than before, and I freeze, not knowing what to do from there, just examining riki’s perfect features, taking note of his moles, feeling his light breaths fan over my face as he doesn’t take his hand off mine.

that’s before leeseo interrupts my daydreaming.

“aww that’s so nice of you riki!” she stated as if she was announcing it to everyone outside.

me and riki immediately drop our hands and turns to look at her.

feeling slightly embarrassed now that it felt like everyone was looking at me, I moved my eyes down to look at the ID in my hands, avoiding anyone else’s eyes.

“shut up leeseo” riki utters, sitting back down in his seat, his usual harsh demeanor returning.

surprised by riki’s reaction, she looks back at me with a judging look.

“don't lose your ID again!” she mocks, giving a small wave as she continues the conversation to whatever it was before.

her smile that I was envious of just a bit ago starts to burn itself into my brain and twists my stomach.

I scoff lightly under my breath, backing up and turning around to find kazuha inside the school building.

“see you around y/n,” riki turns in his seat and says, giving a small smile to me.

I give the same smile back, feeling some butterflies starting to form as I continue walking back inside.

〜

THANK U SM FOR READING I LOVE U ☹️💞

TMI!! im ngl.. I had a dream of this happening with a guy at my school 💀 as soon as I woke up that morning, I wrote the idea in my notes app LOL

I hope you enjoyed! :)

merry late christmas ☃️🎄 💗

[empty-movement]

May I ask what scanners / equipment / software you're using in the utena art book project? I'm an artist and half the reason I rarely do traditional art is because I'm never happy with the artwork after it's scanned in. But the level of detail even in the blacks of Utena's uniform were all captured so beautifully! And even the very light colors are showing up so well! I'd love to know how you manage!

You know what's really fun? This used to be something you put in your site information section, the software and tools used! Not something that's as normal anymore, but let's give it a go, sorry it's long because I don't know what's new information and what's not! Herein: VANNA'S 'THIS IS AS SPECIFIC AS MY BREAK IS LONG' GUIDE/AIMLESS UNEDITED RAMBLE ABOUT SCANNING IMAGES

Scanning: Modern scanners, by and large, are shit for this. The audience for scanning has narrowed to business and work from home applications that favor text OCR, speed, and efficiency over archiving and scanning of photos and other such visual media. It makes sense--there was a time when scanning your family photographs and such was a popular expected use of a scanner, but these days, the presumption is anything like that is already digital--what would you need the scanner to do that for? The scanner I used for this project is the same one I have been using for *checks notes* a decade now. I use an Epson Perfection V500. Because it is explicitly intended to be a photo scanner, it does threebthings that at this point, you will pay a niche user premium for in a scanner: extremely high DPI (dots per inch), extremely wide color range, and true lossless raws (BMP/TIFF.) I scan low quality print media at 600dpi, high quality print media at 1200 dpi, and this artbook I scanned at 2400 dpi. This is obscene and results in files that are entire GB in size, but for my purposes and my approach, the largest, clearest, rawest copy of whatever I'm scanning is my goal. I don't rely on the scanner to do any post-processing. (At these sizes, the post-processing capacity of the scanner is rendered moot, anyway.) I will replace this scanner when it breaks by buying another identical one if I can find it. I have dropped, disassembled to clean, and abused this thing for a decade and I can't believe it still tolerates my shit. The trade off? Only a couple of my computers will run the ancient capture software right. LMAO. I spent a good week investigating scanners because of the insane Newtype project on my backburner, and the quality available to me now in a scanner is so depleted without spending over a thousand on one, that I'd probably just spin up a computer with Windows 7 on it just to use this one. That's how much of a difference the decade has made in what scanners do and why. (Enshittification attacks! Yes, there are multiple consumer computer products that have actually declined in quality over the last decade.)

Post-processing: Photoshop. Sorry. I have been using Photoshop for literally decades now, it's the demon I know. While CSP is absolutely probably the better piece of software for most uses (art,) Photoshop is...well it's in the name. In all likelihood though, CSP can do all these things, and is a better product to give money to. I just don't know how. NOTENOTENOTE: Anywhere I discuss descreening and print moire I am specifically talking about how to clean up *printed media.* If you are scanning your own painting, this will not be a problem, but everything else about this advice will stand! The first thing you do with a 2400 dpi scan of Utena and Anthy hugging? Well, you open it in Photoshop, which you may or may not have paid for. Then you use a third party developer's plug-in to Descreen the image. I use Sattva. Now this may or may not be what you want in archiving!!! If fidelity to the original scan is the point, you may pass on this part--you are trying to preserve the print screen, moire, half-tones, and other ways print media tricks the eye. If you're me, this tool helps translate the raw scan of the printed dots on the page into the smooth color image you see in person. From there, the vast majority of your efforts will boil down to the following Photoshop tools: Levels/Curves, Color Balance, and Selective Color. Dust and Scratches, Median, Blur, and Remove Noise will also be close friends of the printed page to digital format archiver. Once you're happy with the broad strokes, you can start cropping and sizing it down to something reasonable. If you are dealing with lots of images with the same needs, like when I've scanned doujinshi pages, you can often streamline a lot of this using Photoshop Actions.

My blacks and whites are coming out so vivid this time because I do all color post-processing in Photoshop after the fact, after a descreen tool has been used to translate the dot matrix colors to solids they're intended to portray--in my experience trying to color correct for dark and light colors is a hot mess until that process is done, because Photoshop sees the full range of the dots on the image and the colors they comprise, instead of actually blending them into their intended shades. I don't correct the levels until I've descreened to some extent.

As you can see, the print pattern contains the information of the original painting, but if you try to correct the blacks and whites, you'll get a janky mess. *Then* you change the Levels:

If you've ever edited audio, then dealing with photo Levels and Curves will be familiar to you! A well cut and cleaned piece of audio will not cut off the highs and lows, but also will make sure it uses the full range available to it. Modern scanners are trying to do this all for you, so they blow out the colors and increase the brightness and contrast significantly, because solid blacks and solid whites are often the entire thing you're aiming for--document scanning, basically. This is like when audio is made so loud details at the high and low get cut off. Boo.

What I get instead is as much detail as possible, but also at a volume that needs correcting:

Cutting off the unused color ranges (in this case it's all dark), you get the best chance of capturing the original black and white range:

In some cases, I edit beyond this--for doujinshi scans, I aim for solid blacks and whites, because I need the file sizes to be normal and can't spend gigs of space on dust. For accuracy though, this is where I'd generally stop.

For scanning artwork, the major factor here that may be fucking up your game? Yep. The scanner. Modern scanners are like cheap microphones that blow out the audio, when what you want is the ancient microphone that captures your cat farting in the next room over. While you can compensate A LOT in Photoshop and bring out blacks and whites that scanners fuck up, at the end of the day, what's probably stopping you up is that you want to use your scanner for something scanners are no longer designed to do well. If you aren't crazy like me and likely to get a vintage scanner for this purpose, keep in mind that what you are looking for is specifically *a photo scanner.* These are the ones designed to capture the most range, and at the highest DPI. It will be a flatbed. Don't waste your time with anything else.

Hot tip: if you aren't scanning often, look into your local library or photo processing store. They will have access to modern scanners that specialize in the same priorities I've listed here, and many will scan to your specifications (high dpi, lossless.)

Ahem. I hope that helps, and or was interesting to someone!!!

[chamomiletealeaf]

Based on a True Event

So a few months ago my family went to Busch Gardens and I wanted to see the penguins before they closed so my family and I went back in but our tickets wouldn't scan. We got the tickets from my dad since he was working there. The people were super rude and wouldn't let my mom in and told her to go all the way to the back of the line and it took us forever to get in.

But imagine this with Simon, and he makes it all better.

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to hate on customer service workers. I am a customer service worker myself, this is just my experience with the Busch Gardens people lol.

Warnings: none :) just a bunch of fluffiness and Simon being in love with you.

You convinced Simon to take you to an amusement park you've been dying to go to. When he finally said yes you were ecstatic and couldn't wait to have fun with him in one of your favorite places.

"Si come on! Hurry before the line fills up!" You pull him along, wanting so badly to get into the park.

"Alright alright I'm coming." Simon grumbles, but he can't help but smile at your giddiness.

"They have penguins here! Can we go there first? Please? I want to see them so bad they're so cute!" You beamed up at him in the line to get into the park.

"Of course love whatever you want." He says with a smile.

You two were next in line to have your tickets scanned by the workers who looked like they'd rather be anywhere but there.

Not wanting to upset them further, you quietly held your phone out to scan the ticket.

Beep

The scanner makes a chiming noise and a big red "X" comes up on the reader.

"Ticket's no good." The worker says emotionless, not even looking up at you.

"What?" You ask panicking, looking at Simon for help.

"Here try mine." Simon says, stepping in front of you to scan his ticket.

Beep

The scanner dings again, but this time it was a happier tone and a green checkmark shows up.

"You're good, have a great day sir. You miss are gonna have to go to the back of the line and try again or leave. NEXT!" The worker says, and you raise your eyebrows in shock.

"Wait so he can go in but I can't? Can't you try again? Please we've been waiting all day to be here." You plead with the worker, sadness filling your eyes at the thought of not being able to see the cute little penguins you've been dying to see swim and waddle around.

"Sorry miss, you can try buying another ticket for another day or you can leave. You're holding up the line." The worker says, scanning other people's tickets and not looking at you.

Your eyes start to fill with tears of frustration and sadness knowing that Simon was going on deployment soon and you don't know when else you would be able to do this with him again. You look up at Simon looking devastated and he can't take it.

That's when he steps in.

The worker senses his presence and looks up at him. Simon crosses his arms and looks down at him, intimidating the guy so much that he actually makes eye contact with you two for the first time.

"Listen mate, the missus here has been waiting ages to get in here, and I'm never one to leave my woman unsatisfied. So you're either gonna let her in with me, or I'm gonna have to find a way to get her in myself." Simon stares down at the smaller man, who is now showing a fearful expression instead of a bored and uninterested one upon seeing Simon's scars and tattoos let alone his towering size.

And without another word the worker opens the turnstile and rushes you two through.

"Have a nice day you two!" He says, as if he wasn't shitting his pants right now at Simon's threat.

"Yeah that's what I thought." Simon grumbles under his breath.

You jump with joy and kiss Simon's cheek.

"Yay! Thank you honey!" You chime. "Let's see the penguins!" You say, practically pulling Simon's arm off rushing him along.

"Ok sweetheart I'm coming." He laughs.

"That was really hot." You say, leaning into his arm.

"What was?" He asks with a smirk, wanting to hear you say it.

"Sticking up for me. You're hot when you're all big and scary." You say with a giggle.

"Well of course, like I said, I'm never one to leave my missus unsatisfied. In any way." He whispers into your ear with a smirk while he squeezes your waist and you blush at his innuendo.

Then you spot the penguins and you squeal with excitement.

"Simon look! the babies!"

You run up to the tank to admire the little penguins. They were African penguins. Small and cute.

"Oh Simon, look at their little waddles! How cute are they!" You coo at the penguins watching as they waddle and swim around in their tank.

"Funny little blokes aren't they." Simon says, but he's not looking at the penguins.

Simon is watching you.

Simon stands next to you and admires your joy and how much you glow when you're happy like this. It's something he lives for. It's why he risks his life out on the battlefield every deployment. So you can have a fulfilling life. Everything Simon does is for you, and he can sleep better at night knowing that even though he's murdered, even though he's done heinous things, you will always be the one good thing that keeps him from falling into the darkness.

As Simon gets lost in his thoughts and love for you, a penguin waddles it's way up to you behind the glass.

"Simon! baby get a picture! Look at this little sweetie!" You say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to pull his phone out to snap a picture of you and the penguin.

The penguin flaps his wings playfully and you lean down to it's level and turn your head, making a kissy face pretending to give the penguin a kiss on the head.

Simon takes the picture and immediately makes it his lock screen and home screen.

You walk up to him to see the photo and smile.

"It's perfect! He's the cutest, sweetest little baby isn't he?" You ask and Simon just nods and smiles, thinking that you're actually sweetest thing.

Then, a penguin waddles out with a feather pattern that looks like it's wearing an eye mask. The penguin was white with black splotches of feathers on his body, but it's head was black, with a white mask around the eyes.

You notice it, and you gasp.

"Simon! It's you!" You excitedly exclaim and tap his arm getting him to look.

"It's a Ghost penguin!" You say, and he laughs out loud at that.

"Oh baby c'mon you gotta take a picture with it. Please? For me? It'll be so cute!" You plead, and how can Simon resist your glittering eyes and the crinkle in your nose from your smile.

"Ok ok. Just one picture though." And he walks up to the tank to pose with the penguin and you snap a picture, immediately sending it to Johnny and making it your lockscreen and homescreen as well.

Simon comes back to your side and you show him the picture, which earns another laugh out of him.

"Thank you honey." You tell Simon.

"For what?" He asks.

"For doing this for me. For being the best boyfriend in the world. For showing me what real love is like." You say with a smile, and Simon looks down at you.

Simon isn't one for PDA, but there was something about you in this moment that he couldn't resist kissing you right there in front of the penguins and all those around the exhibit.

"You're welcome my love." Simon whispers and smiles against your forehead after breaking the kiss.

You two spent the rest of the day walking around the park, forcing Simon to go on rides with you, and occasionally passing the penguins again where Simon buys you a little stuffed penguin that you named "Ghost", after the penguin that looked like Simon with his mask in the exhibit.

And that night, you two fell asleep in each other's arms with little penguin Ghost between you, exhausted from the long day of walking and fun, knowing that tomorrow you would both awaken in the morning seeing the one thing you both live to see:

And that's each other.

[sleepymccoy]

Please enjoy this fairly horny spones scene I wrote last night. I'm unlikely to ever write more of it, but it's still fun

And that seemed to wrap things up.

“Mr. Spock,” McCoy said quickly, before he took the cowards way out and said nothing.

Kirk and Chapel looked at him, their expressions as curious as Spock's was blank.

“Yessir?” Spock asked.

McCoy smiled with banality. “Do you have a minute for me?”

“Ah, I have nothing pressing.” Spock looked at Kirk and raised his eyebrows for permission. “Captain?”

“Everything alright, Bones?”

“I think I have my nanoscope setting wrong,” McCoy lied. He'd prepared this lie in the last few minutes of their impromptu meeting and it flowed of his tongue easily. He grinned sheepishly. “Spock's better with this newfangled shit than I am. Not that you heard me say it.”

Kirk smirked and mimed zipping his lips shut. “Mum’s the word.” He invited Chapel to leave, muttering to her on the way out.

Spock craned his neck, peering behind McCoy. “Your nanoscope, Doctor?”

“What's wrong with you?” McCoy asked.

Spock stopped craning. “Pardon me?”

McCoy walked quickly to Spock's side and placed his hand on his forehead. Slightly warm, as usual. He looked into Spock's eyes and found his pupils dilated wide. The pulse in his throat was high.

“Doctor, what are you -?”

“You're off kilter.” McCoy slipped his medscanner out and began going over the readings. Pulse was high, temperature normal. Blood flow to his extremities was a bit low.

McCoy took Spock's hand and pressed his thumb into Spock's wrist. Spock gasped quietly. He wasn't fighting McCoy's medical attention, he must know something was wrong too. He must need help. McCoy found his pulse and compared the manual reading to the scanners results.

It was fine, slightly varied reading showed in the strengths of diastolic, but nothing to worry about. That may just be from McCoy taking the pulse at his wrist where the scanner took a body average.

“Doctor,” Spock breathed.

His temperature blinked orange. McCoy double checked that he was on Spock's settings. It hadn't been orange earlier, it had raised. “What the fuck?” McCoy muttered. It didn't make sense. He put the scanner down and dropped Spock's wrist, stalking back over to his desk.

Returning to face Spock he found him rubbing his own wrist, where McCoy's thumb had been pressed.

“C’mere,” McCoy ordered absentmindedly as he cleaned the thermometer he'd pulled from his desk drawer. He cleaned it after use, of course, but he always cleaned it beforehand anyway.

Spock staggered forward. Flushed skin, pupils wide, flakey pulse, and now a high temperature?

“How are you feeling?” McCoy asked.

“This is unnecessary,” Spock whispered. He stopped closer to McCoy then he usually would. Was his balance off? He had been walking weakly.

“Unless you're going to volunteer matters to me, it's completely necessary.”

McCoy held Spock's chin between his finger and thumb and eased his mouth open. “Lift your tongue.”

Spock did so, and McCoy slipped the thermometer in. Spock groaned, then winced and shut his eyes as McCoy gently closed his mouth around the thermometer.

Briefly, a theory presented itself. Based in drunken memories, hot nights shared at conference weekends or diplomatic missions away. The sound Spock made when undone, wrapped around McCoy and perfectly willing to express just how much more he wanted.

It wasn't something he and Spock did on the Enterprise. No, it was saved for shoreleaved where they happened to run into one another, or unexpected nights in hotels as the ship was repaired.

Never here, with no excuse, no separation. Hell, right now they were both on duty. It wouldn't be.

Unless it was-

No, even if Spock was, heaven forbid, turned on, the fact of that was a symptom not the cause.

But still a symptom worth testing. As they stood there, Spock's eyes closed, resting his weight in McCoy's hand, McCoy slid his thumb up slightly. He scratched the underside of Spock's lip. Spock’s eyes flew open at the contact, bright and alive.

McCoy hesitated, but he had good cause for his suspicion. So he pushed up and pressed his thumb to Spock's lower lip, dragging it down enough to catch a hint of teeth.

Nothing physical changed, but the energy shifted immediately. A rumble in the air and the heat from Spock's chest suddenly felt scorching. His eye contact lost that hesitant touch and McCoy felt like he was halfway to bring fucked already. The thermometer in Spock's mouth twitched and rolled.

McCoy took a deep breath. He let go of Spock's chin and removed the thermometer, checking the reading automatically. Same as the scanner, there was no instrument error.

He put the thermometer down next to them, not looking to move away from the gasping Vulcan.

“What's brought this on?” McCoy muttered.

“I-” Spock gasped. His mouth snapped with saliva. Lord, he looked desperate.

“Spock,” McCoy said quietly after Spock didn't continue to speak.

Spock groaned, an echo of his most intimate sounds, and swayed forward. McCoy caught his arms, repositioning himself to keep Spock standing.

Well, this was at least concerning enough that anyone looking in would assume a medical need.

“What's going on?”

“It is perfectly natural,” Spock said, his mouth my McCoy's ear, his breath hot.

“Pon farr?” McCoy guessed. The timing was off, but half Vulcan, who knew?

“Not so serious, merely an inconvenience.” Spock's chest heaved. “I apologise, it is unprofessional of me.

McCoy laughed despite himself. “Sure is,” he admitted. He swung Spock around so he was sitting on the edge of McCoy's desk. He leaned past him to get his med scanner but on the way Spock turned in towards him. Slightly too hot lips pressed against McCoy's neck in a simple kiss.

McCoy waited a moment, let Spock kiss him, then stood up straight. He began scanning, focusing instead on hormonal imbalance. If there was anything dangerous, anything spiking in an alarming way, he wanted to know. Horny was one thing, Pon farr was another.

McCoy did not meet Spock's eyes, but from his focused gaze on the scanner read outs he could see Spock's chest heaving.

“Is it need or want?” McCoy asked.

Spock took a deep breath. “I need to orgasm,” he said quietly. “I want you.”

He was barely reading the bloody scanner. And he was standing too close, Spock's knees pressed against the outside edge of his thighs. “Do you-” McCoy felt slightly breathless, just slightly dizzy. Fuck, he was meant to be working. He clamped down on his writhing gut, his eager hips.

“Ah, would anyone do?” McCoy asked. And, mercy, his voice had deepened. He wasn't just turned on, he was communicating it.

Spock didn't point it out, but his attention shifted. His eyes dragged heavily down McCoy's face, his throat, to his hands. “If you do not wish to have me,” Spock said, his voice dripping with honeyed meaning, “I would rather my own fist than any other.”

McCoy went to speak but his voice had dried up. He cleared his throat, then cleared his throat again. The sound snapped him out of it slightly, even if he had pressed his thighs against Spock's knees as he spoke. Fuck, he was used to Spock playing hard to get until they were near a bed. Or at least near some furniture to bend over. This eager man was quite different.

“Ah,” McCoy said wildly. He looked around his office, trying to find meaning in something he saw. A clock. Four-thirty. “I'm off in an hour and a half.”

Spock blinked, then leaned back. When had he leaned forward? It was hot. McCoy took a step away.

“I will meet you,” Spock said.

McCoy fixed his shirt and tried to smile at Spock. Spock stood, shakily, and met his gaze with customary dourness.

“You're sure it's natural, Spock?” he asked.

Spock nodded once. “It is lunar.”

“Right.”

McCoy looked at the instruments across his desk and ignored Spock as he left. Jesus, time to see how long ninety minutes can take.

[sehtoast]

With Love to You, Thirty Years Later (Homelander x OC)

4k | time travel, angst, little homelander, adult homelander, graphic violence, hurt/comfort, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

benjamin would give the present if it meant soothing homelander's past

Benjamin didn’t expect to have to stick a landing, much less clench his eyes shut and hold back the contents of his stomach from making a surprise reappearance.  

Fucking jackass, Ben groans inwardly.  She didn’t warn him about anything more than the time limit. 

Vought had a dirty little secret. Deep in the vaults, in a facility outside of the city, they kept a supe far more dangerous than anyone knew what to do with.  A real bonafide time traveler able to send both herself and others to any time at all, even to specific locations.  All she needed was a little information and a visual, and… well…

That’s how the web-head ended up face down in the grass outside of the most haunting part of his lover’s life.  See, he couldn’t take it anymore.  For every night Homelander woke up in fits of panic, eyes glowing red and blankets torn to escape tortures long buried in the past, stories of agony and torture, humiliation and pain, Benjamin just… couldn’t. 

Especially after he found out about the woman in the vaults.  But, then again, who wouldn’t damn their own future to spare their greatest love from agony?

He brushes away grass clippings before heading inside.  Security was so lax.  He needed only to snatch a badge from an incapacitated guard to have full run of the place.  Once clipped upon the white lab coat he’d snagged from his own time, he looked perfectly the part.

Every nerve in his body feels wrong.  Even his sixth sense tingles in the strangest of ways. Whether it was because he was in danger or for having hopped back to the nineties was a mystery, but something was terribly wrong. 

Three hours. 

That’s all the time he has to find Homelander and break him free. With any luck he’ll get him somewhere safe, somewhere that Vought can’t find him before his time runs out.  If not…

He’d rather not think about it.  Entertaining the idea of failure isn't on the table– hell, it’s not even on the floor.  He has to save John.  

Every grainy scrap of footage he’d ever found of his love’s upbringing flashes in his mind as he descends the first elevator.  It’s enough to make him see red, and his skin crawls beneath his clothes and spider-suit. Recollections of every sobbed or dissociated detail his Johnny has ever told him… 

It’s all too much.  To know he’s going to walk in and see it in person is– it’s not–

It’s terrifying. 

It’s terrifying, and Homelander lived it.  He lived it every day for sixteen years only for it to adapt and change to consume his life in different ways.

The hair at the nape of his neck stands at attention when the elevator door dings and slides open, but he’s met with an empty room.  Concrete walls and abandoned folding tables.

But that doesn’t seem right to him.  Of course it’d be hidden, right?  That only makes sense.  Can’t have the state inspector showing up to check for mold and finding a little boy locked in an incinerator, right?

Vought would never shit where they eat.  

And he knows their tricks all too well at this point.  Ben pats his bare hands over the cold, hard walls.  There isn’t much to the room. There’s dust all over the furniture, and the floor checks out, so it must be the walls.  Something stupid– like a push mechanism or a scanner or something.

He pats around for some time until one slab of concrete feels just a little too warm under his palms.  He embeds the setae of his fingerpads into it and gives a hard tug, making it lurch.  He follows with a heavy push and the sounds of latches and mechanisms clicking slowly shifts the stone to the side, revealing another elevator.

This descent is even worse.  When the door opens, he’s met with a gun in his face and a room of men and women gawking as though they’d expected the feds to be raiding the place.

With a tap of his badge, the gun lowers and the bug enters.

“Hi, everyone,” he greets.  “I’m the new–”

A quivering cry jars him immediately, and Ben’s head rips over to the right to find the red glow of the incinerator burning bright through the glass window on the door.  His body moves faster than his mind can will it and he slaps the big red emergency shutoff button so hard it crushes into the wall.

An alarm blares, but the clicking of that firearm is clear as day.  The bug vaults backward before the first shot is fired, narrowly avoiding its ricocheted path through the cramped room.  A sweep to the guard's legs drops him to the ground and Ben pins him by the wrists, teeth bared.  It takes everything Benjamin has not to move his hold to the throat and squeeze the fucking life out of him.

He webs him to the floor, much to the horror of the onlookers and their frenzied whispers of him being a supe.  He disassembles the gun and chucks the slide and magazine to random ends of the room.  “Nobody fuckin’ moves,” he orders with a pointed finger.  The vitriol in his voice is not unlike Homelander’s.  So much hate and rage behind his commands.

It isn't undeserved. 

Ben makes a beeline to the incinerator door and all but tears it off its hinges.  He blinks through the waves of dispersing heat.

Out stumbles a boy, naked and almost entirely unrecognizable with his long blonde hair and baby-face to the man Ben knows in his own time.  The bug kneels down and shuffles his lab coat off within seconds to wrap it around John’s shoulders. He crosses it at the front to shield him from every sick bastard in the room who’s ever denied him such a bare minimum of dignity.

He’s still weeping from the pain.

“Hey, shh– it’s okay now.” Ben coos, tears welling in his own eyes.  “I’ve got ‘ya.” 

Seeing him is so much worse.  It’s real now.  It always has been, but now it’s… it's worse. That tortured little boy is sobbing in his arms and clutching the coat to his body. He's more than a memory now.  

Ben pets softly over John’s hair, grimacing at the presence of knots and the building layer of grime.  “M’gonna lift you up now, okay?  Hang on to that coat.”  

He waits for John to nod his consent before hoisting him up to his hip, supporting the boy’s weight with one arm while the other points around at the others to keep their distance.  As he looks at them, he fails to find any familiar faces.  In particular, Vogelbaum’s. 

“Who do you think you are?”  Asks one of the men.  A quick glance to his badge reveals his name is Frank.  “Do you have any idea–”

“Consider me your new boss.”  Ben snaps.  “Now go get him some clothes.”

“What–”

“Did I stutter?”

A quiet giggle next to his ear is about the only thing in the moment that brings about any lightheartedness.  He wonders when the last time was that John laughed in here at all. When anything was even just… nice.

“Hey, when was the last time you ate, huh?  You’re pretty light.”  Ben questions with that signature soft smile of his.

It’s like a lightning bolt of agony and joy to see him reciprocate it.  John shrugs.  “I… think this morning?”

“That’s no good, is it?”

John shakes his head.

“We gotta fix that then, right?” Ben puts his hand out to the crowd.  “Car keys.”  When none offer anything more than silent panic at the idea of their precious subject escaping, Ben singles out a woman– badge says Deborah–  and once again puts his hand out.  “Keys, Debbie.  Don’t be stupid.”

Benjamin smiles at her as she digs them from her pocket and shakily places them in his palm. The bug then turns toward the red door.  He feels John tense and the boy’s arm around his neck tightens.  

“S’okay.  Gonna web the door open.”

And he does.  He layers it with so much goo that the normal two hour dissolution was likely closer to six.  By the time the last layer crumbles, they should be long gone.

Ben sits beside John on his springy, awful excuse of a bed, elbows resting on his knees.  

God, what was he doing?  If he does this, Homelander stops existing.  The John he knows– his Johnny– may never be.  Ryan may never be. But wasn’t this the right thing to do?  Everything in Benjamin’s gut screamed to save the boy, but his heart shattered with every step closer to liberating him.

His and Homelander’s lives will be upended entirely.

But he can’t fucking take it anymore, knowing how his love suffered.

“Who are you?”  

His voice is so tiny. He's so little.  To think he was in that incinerator just moments ago…

The bug turns to face him.  “Ben.”  He answers, putting that soft reassuring smile back on his face.  “My name’s Ben.”

“What’s that?”  John asks, pointing to the red webbed sleeve coming out from the sleeves of Ben’s t-shirt.  

Inquisitive little guy.  Would probably love that twenty questions game.

“Part of my costume.”  He explains.  “I’m a superhero where I come from.”

John’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.  “You mean like Soldier Boy?”

Not the best comparison, but…

“Like Soldier Boy,” Ben hums.  He's nothing like Soldier Boy. “I’m–”

A knock at the wall interrupts them.  One of the scientists enters, a heavier man– sweat glistening on his receding hairline.  Ben glares at him as he approaches John, failing to catch how the boy looks down and away from him. That tingle in his head whispers its warnings.  No good.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s very wrong.

“These are f-for you. From Frank,” the man says, voice shaking.  “Here you go, Squirt.”

The bug's eyes widen. 

Squirt.

Squirt.

Benjamin knows this man even without checking the badge.  Knows the story.  Knows the foul meaning behind that fucking nickname.  The dread and shame it causes. 

That it caused. 

A glance over and he sees John avoiding eye contact, gaze locked on the floor.  The boy pulls the lab coat tighter around his body.

Something snaps.

“Get on your knees, Marty.”

He remembers every night he ever held Homelander.  Every time the humiliation came back to haunt his love.

He looks at Benjamin with knit brows and a polite, confused smile.  “I– I’m sorry?”

“On your knees.”  Ben says.  It’s like something has ahold of his body.  His rage is… different than ever before.  It’s workable. Calm.

Precise.

Would the bug have done this years ago?  Would he have done anything like this before he met Homelander?

He doesn’t know anymore.

He doesn't care anymore. 

Sometimes what’s right is right no matter how ugly it is.

Benjamin walks behind Marty, grabs his forearms, and places his right foot between his shoulders.

“Johnny?” He calls. 

The boy’s barely able to cast his gaze in the man’s direction.  The shame and discomfort is all over his face, and that pit of white-hot fury in Ben's gut swirls like never before. 

“Apologize.”  Ben commands, pressing his foot forward and giving the slightest tug against his arms– barely anything to the bug, but raw pain for the man who deserves nothing less.

Below, Marty yowls and begs.  Suddenly, John has no problem looking up.

“I'm sorry!  Oh fuck– oh god!”

But it's not enough. He has no goddamn idea what he's even apologizing for. He just wants it to end. 

“For what?” Ben tugs harder, keeping the tension.  “What’dya do, Marty?  Spit it out!” 

“I don't– I can't– oh Jesus, please!” 

“Harder.” Comes a small, still whisper.  

Ben looks up to find John fixated on the sight, blue eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights. The bug does as he says and gives a sharp tug to Marty's arms, the resounding scream bouncing loudly between the cramped walls. 

“Think it’s funny to humiliate a kid like that?”  Benjamin grits.  “Rubbin’ his nose in it every day for just being normal– tell him you’re fucking sorry!”

“I’m sah–hahr…hah…” Those pathetic sobs taper off and his body goes limp.

Even the look on John’s face dims at the anticlimactic end.

“You kidding me?”  Ben groans.  This was supposed to be a lesson in not being a fucking creep and he faints?  “Whatever, just– just get dressed.  Let me know when you’re ready, okay?”  The bug instructs, dragging Marty out by the collar of his shirt.  He tosses him forward, letting him skid across the floor to the feet of his horrified colleagues.  Ben's sure the sounds of what little corrective actions he got to take were convincing enough that none of them would dare try anything stupid.

It takes a moment before John calls him back inside.  The boy sits on the bed, staring down at the ground, dressed now in all white.  He holds the lab coat on his lap, fiddling with the buttons.  Just as Ben kneels down before him, words on his own on his tongue, John speaks.

“How’d you know about… that?”

The shame is written clear as day on his face.  

Fuck, Ben thinks to himself.  Didn’t consider that… 

“I…”  The bug ponders a good way to say it.  He breathes a laugh through his nose, shaking his head with a smile on his face.  Homelander would hate it if he was lied to, and that was the one thing Ben always promised he would never do.  “You told me about it.”

The confusion is clear as day.

“Listen, I’ll explain everything when we’re outta here, okay?”  Benjamin says, pulling the car keys from his pocket and jingling them with a devious smile and raised brows.  

“We’re leaving?”

“Mhm,” he hums.  “We’ll make a stop at Vought-a-Buger and get you a milkshake, and then–”

Bang!

A flash of white steals his sight and Benjamin drops everything to shield his ears. The screech that follows is deafening– unlike anything he’s ever heard before.  It hurts, everything hurts, like it’s rattling his fucking skeleton and–

His body is heavy.

“Joh…n…” He tries, but his tongue feels like lead.  Run, he calls, but it doesn’t come out.  Run, Johnny!

There’s nothing.

It’s cold.

Heavy…

It’s all so heavy.

The bug’s first breaths feel labored and wheezy.  Chest is tight.  Head throbs.

There’s a commotion nearby. Canisters on the floor– one kicked by brown flats, rattling across the floor.  Words are blurry save for a few.

Disappoint me…

Like they’re all under water.  Garbled and muted.  Little whimpering cries.

Ashamed of you…

He fights to chase them, to protect that little voice from whatever’s going on, but his eyelids drop with a weight far greater than Benjamin can fend off.

Even in the blackness, his resolve urges him to wake.

Get up.

His sixth sense stirs.

Get. Up.

He can’t just leave John to suffer his fate.

You have to.

His leg twitches.  He fights to take back control.  Like waking up after surgery.  

Wiggle your toes.

His limbs tingle. 

Fingers next. C'mon… 

Fight it off. 

It’s time to wake up!

His violent gasp for breath burns like nothing else, but it shocks his system enough to pry him from the void.  Benjamin’s head rips back and forth, taking in the surroundings.

Still in the bad room.  Door’s shut.

“Johnny?”  He slurs, tongue still heavy in his maw.  The bug shuffles onto his knees.  In the corner sits the boy, hugging his knees to his chest with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Shit.

He takes in the sight of gas canisters and spent flash grenades.

A glance to his watch timer breaks the harrowing news.

Twenty minutes.

“No!”  Ben wails.  “No, no, no. no!”

He’s up in a flash, stumbling to beat on the door.  Every loud bang does little more than dent it.  The haze fades, overpowered by adrenaline and the desperation to do fucking anything. 

I came here to fucking save you!

“Help me!”  He calls to John. “Help me help you!”

“I don’t think so,” calls a strange voice.  The crackle of it rings from a speaker in the ceiling.  A woman’s voice.  Proper and collected.  Eerily calm.

Ben drives his bloodied fists into the door harder and harder, whimpering with each scream of his bones to cease his efforts.  He stumbles backward, panting heavily.  

He could never make it past that door. It was made to withstand someone far more powerful that he'll ever be. 

Ben spins around, staring into the lense of every fucking camera he can find.  

Why didn’t he fucking web them!?  Stupid, stupid– too busy beating on that sad sack of shit for calling John that goddamn name!

“Fuck you, and fuck this place!”  He roars, heartbeat pounding in his ears almost as hard as the throbbing in his skull.  “Torturing a fucking kid like a bunch of sick fucking freaks!”

“Where did you come from?”  She asks, unbothered by the outburst.

“From fucking Craigslist you bitch!”

“It would behoove you to cooperate, young man.”  The satisfaction is all too audible in her tone.  “John.  Subdue him.”

Wh–

Within a mere flash, Ben’s forearm is in a vice grip more painful than anything he’s ever felt.  He can practically feel his bones crunching under the sheer brutality of force, threatening to give at any moment.

“–clearly a Vought asset.  Why are you here?” 

Ben crumbles to his knees.

“Johnny, don’t!”  His pleas fall in sobs, tears clouding his vision.  “I just wanna help you– please let me help you!” 

The faintest flash of doubt and a loud ripping sound precedes the release of the bug’s limb.  His torn sleeve reveals a bruise already forming in the shape of a child’s hand.  The tattered, webbed scrap of fabric is clenched in the boy’s iron grip.

“How do you know of this place?”

It’s like this is just a minor fucking inconvenience to her!  

“Johnny, listen–”

“Restrain him now.  Do not disappoint us, John.”

Ben’s back hits the concrete wall and he sputters against the hand wrapped around his throat.  He squints to meet crimson eyes whose heat emanates painfully hot near his face.  “Jo–”

His feet leave the floor, flailing for purchase against the wall– anything to offset the weight of himself compounding with that vice grip.  John floats higher and higher, stopping just below the ceiling. 

“Not–” the bug chokes through clenched teeth, voice barely more than a hoarse pushing of air through a collapsing throat.  “Not your… fault.  S’okay– forgive’ou–”

The hiss of sizzling tears is only just audible over the woman’s instructions to end it all.  The hand at his throat loosens just enough for the bug to barely draw a breath. 

The five minute warning from his watch beep barely reaches his ears.

Ben wishes John would say anything.  Instead he’s a silent attack dog, obedient to his commands until that small moment of hesitation.

“Good kid–” Ben hisses, fingers prying to loosen the hold just a little more.  

At this rate, he just needs to survive.  Just make it through the five minutes and lick his wounds at home.  Pray he hadn’t fucked up the future too much.

“You’re good– a good kid, Johnny– don’t–” 

John lurches with a violent sob, descending slowly, eyes dimming to watery blues.

The woman’s voice commands him to finish the job.

Fuck– fuck that works!

“A sweet boy!”  Benjamin sobs, gasping for air as the hold relaxes all but totally.  “It’s okay, pumpkin– you’re okay. Doin’ amazing– S'okay.  Everything's– it's all okay…”

Ben lets go with his right hand and rests it on John’s head, stroking softly over those blonde locks just like he did when he pulled him from the incinerator.

His arm is aglow, particles of his being preparing to return from whence they came.

Their time together is almost up.

“What are you doing John?”

Their knees hit the ground with loud thuds.  Ben scoops the boy in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” the bug weeps.  “I’m so fucking sorry!”

He failed.  All of the pain and suffering this boy will face from here on is his fault.

Benjamin pulls back, swallowing his cries to deliver the bad news.

It’s time to go.

“No!!”  John wails, grabbing Ben by the wrists to keep him in the only way he knows how.  “No! You can’t leave me!  You can’t!”

The glow emanating from Ben’s body starts to creep brighter through the room.

“No choice,” he whispers through the tightness of his throat.  “I have no choice, buddy…”

The sound of the woman demanding the door be opened rings through the room.

“M’from the future,” Ben sniffles, chuckling at the boy’s widened eyes. He deserves the clarification. “That's how I know you…”

 That same bursting feeling from right before he was sent back is building and building, ready to snap at any moment.

“But I–”

“You’re gonna have to come find me.”  Ben takes a deep breath.  “Be good, pumpkin–”

And, just like that, he bursts into nothing. He's hurtling through the fabric of time once more, nausea building in the pit of his gut as he screams and sobs through the echoes of history.

He failed.

He failed John.  

He failed his Johnny. He failed Homelander.

And now he didn’t even know if he had his Johnny to go home to.

The bug doesn’t even bother to stick the landing.  It felt almost good to land face down and lay there before The Traveler, body screaming with the pains of his injuries. It's no less than he deserves. 

She regards him with blank white eyes.

“Have you learned your lesson, Benjamin?”

Lesson?

Lesson!?

Through his defeated tears, he shifts just enough to meet her gaze.

“What is shall always be.”  She says calmly, the perfect counter to the hurricane of emotion brewing within the bug.  “Time and fate will always protect one another.”

“Then what the fuck is the point, Cryptic Carl?” he whispers. He means for it to be snarky. Just a little something to salvage his decimated pride and offset some of his own hurt. It's more pathetic than anything.  “If it’s all fuckin’... just like that.”

Her answer does nothing to soothe him.  He thinks of it the entire way home, ignoring how frightened the VUber driver was at his condition and exposed suit.  He ponders it with every access panel that accepts his information and prints, and even as he ascends to the penthouse in the elevator.

It’s all he can think of when he limps through the hall of mirrors and into the arms of his frazzled love.

The point is what you make of it.

One look and he can see the puzzle pieces connect in Homelander’s mind.

The shredded shirt, the torn sleeve of his suit, the handprints on his throat and forearm, the proximity burns on his face… 

Memories fade in with every second he spends in John’s arms– some new, but mostly old and unchanged.  The hostility of their first meeting.  The rapid development of their friendship after joining the team.  The night after he killed Stillwell.  Their first kiss.  Shared rooftop ice creams and dances amongst the clouds.  Washing the blood from his love every time some fool dared cross him or the world became too much.  Every confession of trauma, every admission of love… The good, the bad, the lovely.  All of it.

And then something… new.

Lifting the latch to that odd little dresser full of keepsakes early in their relationship.  The scrap of his suit, tattered and faded from more than thirty years of keeping.  Homelander finding him inspecting it, explaining nothing and everything.

I never stopped looking for you.

He sobs in Homelander’s arms, apologizing through the pain of his damaged throat until he’s a hiccuping wreck.  

He failed.

Benjamin failed and John had to continue living in that hell hole.

He wishes more than anything that his Johnny would punish him for it.  Finish the job and take out all those years he had to suffer on him– because that’s what the bug deserved for fucking up so goddamn badly.

Instead he receives kisses peppered over every inch of his face and Homelander’s tears mingle with his own.  Benjamin doesn’t know what he expects to hear when his love’s lips part.  He deserves the worst.  Names, insults– anything. Even fucking lasers to the face.

What comes is more than he can handle.

More than he’ll ever know what to do with.

But… it makes it all worth it.  Rips his heart clean from his chest and breathes life into each shattered piece, willing it all back together again.

It’s more than he deserves.

“You were the first person to ever give me hope.”

But it is what he makes of it. 

[gotbreads]

OC x Tfp Megatron (Adult Offspring)

-Said OC: Linked Here!

ABOUT:

Sire: Mornilious the Forge

Carrier: Megatron

Zeus

Height: 38ft

About: He doesn't understand emotions, causing him to be blunt and to the point in all conversations. If he hurts someone's feelings, he doesn't register that change. He doesn't register different facial expressions either.

What he lacks in emotions he gains in battle situations, causing him to have very quick thinking and very well maintained scanners with added range. Nothing gets by him without going unnoticed, his vision and audial range is also heightened.

-Downside, he easily gets overwhelmed causing him to get angry.

---Later on, Zeus learns cybertronian sign language when he needs to cut all audio feed.

For such easily engaged anger issues, he is going to therapy to regain the abilities to recognize emotions and facial expressions. And to learn ways to help his heightened senses, and ease the anger.

-Does not give a shit unless it concerns his brother and creators.

Hades

Height: 38ft

About: He is extremely charismatic and expressive, no one will ever not be happy to see him. Hades loves to joke around, flirt, bug his brother, etc.

Bots knowing that his carrier is Megatron, they'd think he would have a scratchy voice. But it's the complete opposite, his voice is buttery smooth a little deep and gravelly. Nothing like his carrier.

For his charismatic nature, he is an expert in battle, but he's a little too much of a "Let's go, plan later." He always runs head first into a problem before analyzing it, causing him to gain new scars or reopen old ones.

He will stand up for his brother, he will beat the shit out of someone if they make fun of anyone who is close to him.

-He is a dumbass

Post war Context below cut!

Megatron stayed on Cybertron within the newly established landscape, old forests finally showing their true beauty as he hid himself. Many starships entered the atmosphere, the loud and roaring sound making him feel guilty of what he put everyone through. Until, one massive starship enters the atmosphere. At first it caught him off guard, the color scheme, the lights, it was so unfamiliar.

The ship landed not far away from the forest he hid in, it was surely massive.

Parallel to the ship, Megatron saw so many be greeted by Optimus and his team. Sparklings, veterans, carriers, sires, you name it- they were all there. But one caught his optic, the tall mech with flames coming from his helm. When it dawned on who he was looking at, said mech looked right at him. The sudden movement made his entire frame freeze in place, was he seen?

Then the mech looked away, greeting Optimus and his team.

Megatron took that as the cue to leave.

-- A few stellar cycles go by leading Megatron to question who that mech was. He never forgot a face, so why couldn't he think of where he saw this mech before?

A twig snaps behind him.

His body went into the defensive, but who he saw amazed him.

The mech with flames had his servos up at the level of his helm, showing he didn't come here to fight. Once Megatron got a better look at the mech he instantly knew who it was.

Mornilious the Forge, a Gladiator before him, known for his fire bending and his weaponry craftsmanship.

They talked, mostly due to Mornilious's own curiosity.

"What if I watched over your recovery? Making sure you get the therapy you need?"

Megatron was caught off guard by Mornilious's question, a mech known by simple myth sits beside him asking if he could help.

----- Many years later:

Megatron was set into a schedule with Mornilious, the therapy helping him stay sane, showing him how to deal with his feelings and guilt.

Noticing how much Mornilious has helped him without question, simply because he wanted too. Megatron slowly started to love the old Ex-Gladiator. Including Mornilious's horrible dad jokes and puns, him not knowing current cybertronian slang/quirks, how caring and careful he is.

Mornilious reminded him of Optimus in a way, the heroic leader of the people. But much softer than the prime, the smiles, the warm hugs, the how are you's in the early morning.

The warmth is overwhelmingly lovely.

[glitch-karma]

Bsd as Spidermen

Dazai:

His name would be Spider Stray

He was investigating something with the detective agency when he was bit

Sees his new abilities as a nuisance and tries to ignore them, much like the og Peter Parker

Dazai's dark and sarcastic personality carries over into his version of Spider-Man ofc

He would make dry and morbid jokes while fighting crime, often using his mind to outwit his opponents rather than relying solely on strength

Dazai's spider-like abilities would include enhanced agility, reflexes, and ofc spider-sense, but to go with no longer human I'd like to say he can minimally dull powers

His spider suit would be a sleek black with a light red web pattern, I think of his webbing as black instead of white as well. He does still use traditional web-shooters tho

Definitely does the classic spider kiss with you (like a lot of other people on this list..)

Immediately made it very obvious to you that he was the famous spider stray

He accidentally drags you into a lot of shit though

Kunikida:

Introducing: The Web Detective

Kunikida was bit the same way as Dazai

His new powers are the same as normal petter parker

initially, he struggles to accept his new powers, feeling burdened by the responsibility

utilizes his detective skills to investigate and stop criminal activities in the city

often targeting corrupt organizations that threaten the peace of the city

operates primarily as a solo hero, but he occasionally partners with other members of the Detective Agency

His suit is also black, with accents of dark greens as reds along with white webbing patterns

Idk why but he is giving real webbing vibes.. ew

Tried his very hardest to not involve you in anything

After all the stress built up, he confesses his identity to you

Was still very keen on keeping you out of it though

Ranpo:

welcome The Yokohama Webcrawler

Was bitten while in an abandoned sweet shop

retains his highly intelligent and observant nature as Spider-Man

uses his deductive skills to unravel criminal activities and solve mysteries

Although, his laid-back and somewhat lazy demeanor remains intact, often getting him into trouble

Ranpo focuses more on detective work and strategic planning rather than actually getting out there and fighting

uses his deductive abilities to analyze crime scenes, anticipate criminal activities, and identify potential threats

He has enhanced agility, sight, analytical combat, and stealth

Has a dark suit with light blue accents, his webbing pattern is off-white. I'd like to imagine he also keeps his hat lmao

His web-shooters are upgraded to include various detective gadgets, such as tiny cameras (Shapped as spiders ヾ(•ω•`)o), fingerprint scanners, and chemical analyzers

Told you immediately

Was casual abt it too

"Oh btw I'm actually the Yokohama Webcrawler." "Oh cool."

"WAIT WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY-"

Yosano:

Let's hear it for Arachne!

stumbles upon a hidden laboratory where she accidentally gets bitten by a genetically enhanced spider

Powers included; enhanced physical attributes, healing for herself, spider-sense, and a healing venom

She has permanent fangs (Coughs in Miguel O'Hara)

She has a black form-fitting suit with purple accents and light purple webbing, also includes a red hourglass-shaped symbol on her chest to ref the black widow

Uses a classic web shooter

You figured it out after she accidentally called you a nickname as Arachne

Classic spiderman kiss <3

Prioritizes you at all coasts

Chuuya:

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH coughs

The beloved, the great, the amazing, Spider Venom

Was transformed against his will by a threat to the Port Mafia

Although Chuuya is already pretty agile, his new powers include enhanced agility, reflexes, strength, and Spider Sense

Chuuya's gravity manipulation is incorporated into his web-slinging techniques

Instead of using mechanical web-shooters, he generates and controls threads of gravity that act as webs

He can swing from buildings and create web-based constructs to trap or immobilize enemies

His suit would be a sleek, form-fitting style (I am actively drooling)

His spider web pattern would be red and have a slight glow effect to it and the spider symbol on the chest would have a gravity-inspired design, incorporating swirling patterns around the spider

He also keeps his coat and hat <3

Chuuya cracks jokes during battles and maintains a cocky demeanor, even in the face of danger just as usual.

However, he is also a deeply compassionate and principled individual, using his abilities to protect the innocent and stand up for what is right

He did his rich girl voice to hide himself from you..

It didn't work.

CLASSIC SPIDERMAN KISS EVEN THOUGH HE CAN DO THAT WITHOUT THE SPIDER ABILITIES LOLZ LET ME SIMP

Terrified of you getting hurt

Has a moment where he almost was too late and has a full panic attack over you

(Can you tell he was the reason I wanted to do this?)

The best one in this list prove me wrong.

I was planning on doing more but tbh I couldn't think of anything for a lot of them

But I hope you enjoyed

[slime-t00th]

💚💚💚💚 i wasn't expecting anybody! hello!!

sorry for reaching out and out then failing to post anyways but is anyone still around? i think 3 years might be enough of an exorcism . just checking idk

[suzukiblu]

For the ask meme if you still wish:

scanner, jacket

Cassie's mouth goes dry.

The most gorgeous girl she's ever seen in her life, including Aphrodite, is kneeling on the ground, half-wrapped up in her own arms and glaring aggressively up at Circe. She looks vulnerable and vicious and Cassie does not have the time for how bad she wants to punch her in the face and kiss her bloody knuckles.

She's definitely, definitely a lesbian. Was she ever doubting that? Ever?

The girl has a curly ink-black undercut curling down around her jaw and neck and she's built like a born-and-bred Amazon, all curve and muscle and fighter. She's wearing an S-shield crop top that her absolutely perfect tits are this close to busting out of and very tiny black shorts and fishnet thigh-highs and heavy black shit-kicking steel-toed boots, and her makeup is dark and dramatic and flawless.

And her eyes are bluer than even makes sense.

She's wearing a black leather jacket too, and for some reason some part of Cassie's brain . . . tweaks on that, a little.

Or a lot.

A black leather jacket. And an S-shield. And that look on her face, and those eyes . . .

"Kon?!" she blurts in shock, and the girl–

Flinches.

And Circe laughs.