#life is not always explosions.... sometimes there are nice people too.....

[saphig-iawn]

Finally Let Off His Leash - Part 2

[part 1]

I had my puppy on my lap again.

Since our first session he as opened up so much with me. Like the exciteable and bubbly puppy in him is reaching out into his life and making it a little brighter.

When our call connected I could tell he was just brimming with excitement, but it felt like he was trying his best not to be too forward with it.

I know how that can feel sometimes, that your passion or excitement can be something with so much energy that it makes people retreat ever so slightly.

I never want him to shrink in my care like that.

So I spoke my spell and I heard the most beautiful, heart-deep laugh and giggles ripple and then burst from his lips like an emergency slide inflating. A gentle start but explosive finish.

All I had to do was say hi to my sweet puppy and he rumbled like an old engine at me, full of happiness.

Now we had planned that our session was to be about weaving him some tantalising bondage spells (which I will write about soon), but I wanted to make sure he was nice and relaxed.

You see, he had a very stressful day and the time between our previous session was enough time that he had those little pockets of stress hidden within his muscles, so being able to tend to him right at the beginning just felt so good.

With content barks and low happy grumbles, he agreed.

Then, I treated him to some well deserved cuddle time.

I rolled him onto his side and stroked his belly and rubbed between his eyes and told him about all the places I would walk him in my town and in Wales.

Through old castle ruins, weaving between the grand arches of old viaducts, wandering over the sleeping mountains.

He did the cutest thing when I started talking about the coastal walks we could do, the rock pools we could explore when the tide was out, the beaches he could run free on.

I said how seagulls are everywhere in these places because of the food people buy, and when I said that I would let him chase the seagulls away, he began to sniff and sniff and sniff like he was there ready to pounce!

I always love the sessions I do, but sessions like these, full of care and tenderness really make my heart feel full. Giving some a space to be unapologetically themselves is something I will always strive to do with my hypnosis.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[shootingstarrfish]

so, i just want to say something, that i'm not sure If might be uncomfortable or not (i'm using anon because well, i'm shy srry)

You are my favorite artist, like, seeing your art, It doesn't matter if is a silly doodle or the most gorgeous art that has even touched a canvas, It inspires me to take a pencil and draw, to try and improve, it even made me keep drawing when i felt like quitting it

I'm glad i found one of your comics on twitter while scrolling down my fyp, i thought you'll be one of thousands of artists i had followed and nothing more, but as time went on, i really started to love your art and appreciate It a lot (as i said, It gave me inspiration!)

So, yeah, sorry for the rant (and sorry If is uncomfortable)

I gOT SENTIMENTAL??? I DON'T KNOW WHY LMAO

WOW straight to the heart with that one i see

but for real lol, thank you anon <3333 you're very very sweet and i appreciate you telling me this, it's not uncomfortable at all

being shy is very fair and theres never any pressure to go off anon but if you ever need someone to cheer for you and your art i will always be here im very honoured i could inspire you to draw even when you felt like quitting and i genuinely hope you keep at it!!

also no judgement here for being sentimental, you are in the presence of the #1 emotional baby who will get emotional and cry over literally anything

[littlemoonglow]

Warning: Long post?

—

Jason did not expect his ghost form to feel…like this.

(Oh, dealing with his body randomly phasing through the ground and smacking his face onto hard concrete was not fun, but Jason dealt with that just like with every other hurdle in his life. By being more stubborn than the problem itself.)

It felt like something… settled into place. That was the best way he could describe it.

He felt as if spite and anger were finally not the only things keeping him awake and running. 

He felt calm, almost. Stable, at least. Whatever pent up energy that was stuck in his chest cavity now flowed freely throughout his body, redistributed, instinctually easier to manage.

It's almost like he could breathe a little bit easier.

(After much… ranting that Jason decided to ignore for his own sanity, Danny said that his case ectoplasmic corruption was probably due to the fact that Death, as a concept, doesn’t let go of things easily, time shenanigans notwithstanding.)

(Becoming a half-ghost was seemingly the only working compromise.)

—

Danny once told him that broad strokes of a ghost’s personality could be guessed by looking at their physical appearance. 

Despite the cool powers, this was a slight downside. Jason dealing with the filth of the Earth meant that being to hide his emotions and who he is was kind of important. Life saving, even.

He realized later on that his ghost form was way too easy to read.

—

He looked at his arms covered in bandages, and got reminded of the amount of times he had to patch himself up in the last month.

His jacket was ripped in place he knew that would have been sewn together when he was a living breathing human (well, as much as he could be).

He always looked slightly on fire?

(Danny told him it's probably related to his... core?)

(He know he died in an explosion but really?)

And then, there was his… veil? Shroud? Cloak?

It looked really nice.

But on the other hand…

It drooped when he felt under the weather. It flicked and thrashed around when he’s either irritated or barely holding back his urge to headshot someone.

And—

(No Danny, my cloak was not fucking wagging when you brought me fresh ectoplasm last week, you’ll have to get your goddamn eyes checked—)

He'll deny it until the day he dies (a second time).

And then his cloak could sometimes just…grow bigger. He figured that it acted as an extension of his own body, and had a nice add-on of allowing him to sense things he couldn't see. Hell, he could even make a hand out of it (wacking Danny with it - gently - never gets old). Jason had to also admit it looked cool, with the wispy bits and with one of its sides becoming a bright yellow.

(It reminded him a bit of his time as Robin.)

—

Being a ghost had a lotta perks.

Dealing with targets was so much easier when no one could see you. Inflitration was so much simpler when walls became optional. Cameras will glitch out when he's around, he left no traces visible to the naked eye and, combined with his training, to say that it was useful would be an understatement.

But, sometimes, he feels like he’s changing as well the more he transforms. Not drastically, but enough for him to look back and notice.

He usually was someone who prided on being efficient and straight to the point.

But now he’s starting to… have fun.

He started using his claws whenever he could. Don't het him wrong, he still uses his guns plenty, but there was just something deeply satisfying about vaulting over things, scaling a wall or crawling on the ceiling with bare hands. 

(Punching people is still the most satisfying by far, though.)

That one time hunting down the Joker wannabes was fun too.

(Danny said he’d get along great with Skulker? Did Jason want to find out? No.)

Fading in and out of invisibility, he picked them off one by one, watching as panic and dread slowly but surely creeped up on the remaining ones.

(After all, he has no respect for those trying to emulate the dead clown.)

—

(Yeah, the Joker was dead.)

(Surprisingly, that has not been a good day.)

—

One of the favorite things he liked to do was rooftop parkour. The… bendability of gravity is… fun, not gonna lie.

(Not flying though. Jason is used to having feet in regular contact with solid ground, thank you very much. No offense, Danny.)

But he gets why ghosts love to fly. When he’s jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Gotham in the at night, watching the city light fly by, cloak spread behind him, it’s as if nothing else matters. 

(No Joker, no petty criminals to beat up, no avoiding the Bats so they don’t find out about his existence—)

He can just enjoy, even just for a little bit.

—

(Somehow the Demon Brat and Orphan could sense him. Will keep and eyes on those two, and also the more reasons to avoid them.)

(The real problem was the new Bat in town. Bruce, what the fuck, another one? Again?)

(The yellow one, Signal. No time to check his profile yet, but probably a meta or something.)

(First night out and the guy almost managed to actually fucking see him —looked at him straight in the eyes and all, then did a double take. Jason never phased into the pavement so fast in his entire fucking life.)

(And so far no Bats on his cloak tails yet.)

(He did help the guy incognito, just a couple of times.) 

(And he also did steal his escrima sticks for fun, and once the guy went out looking for them, he’d put them right back where they were.)

(Turns out, he discovered later, that being a little shit runs in the ghost community.)

—

(Sometimes he also wonders what happened to Danny before they met.)

(He wasn't a Gothamite, that was obvious. He doesn’t pry, but it doesn’t take a lot to piece two and two together.)

(He just wonders who he has to kill this time.)

—

(Jason could not believe he forgot and underestimated just how fucking persistent every single one of the Bats could be. Of course it had to run in the family.)

He gazed down, thought the agony, at the gaping wound under his right armpit.

(The Bats have been chasing him relentlessly for a while now. He got more injuries than he can count, especially from Bruce.)

(They know. Oh, they know.)

(It didn’t go well.)

(He knows the others are there surrounding him to prevent him from escaping, he knows that Dick is right behind him, but at the moment he couldn’t care less.)

It has been a long time since the last time he got shot.

(It felt like someone set his right side on fire.) 

What was flowing out in abundance was a neon, toxic green.

(The Pit Waters, ectoplasm, he didn’t even know that he could fucking bleed in ghost form—)

(Danny—)

He looked back up at Batman, holding a (frankly) ugly gun, white casing and highlights in the same shade of toxic green. 

(A gun that Danny warned him about. And everything behind it.)

Jason felt something in him... snap.

(Why did it have to be you, Bruce.) 

His mouth opened—

(waitsincewhenhecoulddothatthroughtthe mask—) 

(Jason could see the billows of neon green smoke—)

(He couldn’t see Bruce’s expression.)

(Every. Single. Goddamn. Time.)

— and wailed.

---------------------------------------------------

I am genuinely delighted that my last post got that much attention! Thank you so much, to all who liked, rebblogged and commented, it really does mean the most. 💕

This AU may be continued? No guarantees, tho.

For those interested: Part 01

@fandomnerd103 @phoenixdemonqueen @satisfactionbroughtmeback @ascetic-orange @apointlessbox @bathildaburp @fisticuffsatapplebees @aisforanonymity @phandomhyperfixationblog @help-i-need-a-cool-username @hashtagdrivebywrites @did-i-miss-anyone-tagging-is-a-monk's-job-first-time-doing-this-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hey!!! You commented on my post about limetown haha which is why I’m here. You offered to give podcast recs! What are your favorites?? I’m looking for some new ones

I completely forgot I had this ask, excuse the delay. Here's a selection of 30 podcasts I enjoyed from a broad range of genres: hopefully at least one appeals.

Let me know if you're after something more specific.

Arden: (Investigative, Comedy) On the 25th of December, 2007, heiress and young actress Julie Capsom crashed her car into a tree and fled into a nearby forest clearing, leaving a trail that seemingly vanished into thin air, and a dismembered torso in the trunk. A decade later, Bea, the first reporter on the scene, and Brenda, a detective on the case, are hosting a true crime podcast about it, and neither is remotely impressed with what the other has to say. Arden is also a retelling of various Shakespeare plays.

Desperado: (Supernatural, Adventure, Horror Elements) In a modern world of gods and magic, three young people, all under the patronage of death dieties, embark on the same adventure for different reasons: for safety, for revenge, and to kill The Old Man in the Sky. Fantastic banter and killer action sequences.

The Far Meridian: (Magical Realism) An agoraphobic young woman wakes one day to discover her lighthouse home has travelled to somewhere entirely unfamilar. As this continues to happen day after day, she uses the opportunity to search for her missing brother. A really unique and charming piece of fiction.

Gastronaut: (Sci-Fi) Interstellar travel audio blog of a former food critic as he travels to an active warzone to get firsthand experience with unfamilar cuisine. ft. Disgruntled martian nobility, sinister businessmen, explosive mushrooms, forbidden snacks, rogue revolutionary artists, and the consequences of your actions.

Girl in Space: (Sci-Fi) The Girl In Space lives alone on a space station, doing science, making cheese, rewatching Jurassic Park, and tending to the plants, animals, and artificial sun entrusted to her. It's a little lonely, but not a bad life. Would be a shame if someone came along to ruin it.

The Goblet Wire: (Microfiction, Weird Fiction) A surreal microfiction with horror elements, taking the form of phone calls to an audio-based game in which the voice of the mysterious Dictator leads each player through fantastic and horrific world and story.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Horror, Supernatural) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods, as they find meaning and sometimes eachother.

Hi Nay: (Supernatural Horror) A year after moving to Toronto, sound designer Mari finds herself drawn into helping people around the city with various horrific supernatural encounters due to her babaylan (shaman) family background. It quickly becomes apparent that there's something much more sinister and complicated happening in the background.

Inco: (Microfiction, Sci-Fi) A perpetually exausted interstellar information trader and her peppy AI find a mysterious (read: bratty) boy floating in space and are inadventently pulled into a world political intrigue.

Inn Between: (Fantasy) Ever curious about what the D&D characters get up to at the tavern between sessions? A generally lighter-hearted (with some exceptions) with richly-written and always-growing characters. A really interesting format, too: a lot of the adventure appears in the "next time" and "last time" segments which makes it all flow really nicely. Not a tabletop podcast.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to a study a dead city on a distant world. Nobody likes what they find there. A unique format, with one set of logs presented first to last, and the other last to first. I'd recommend listening to the supercut for this one.

The Kingmaker Histories: (Steampunk, Weird Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy Elements) In the Valorian Socialist Republic 1911, on her 25th birthday, tailor's apprentice Colette experienced the worst headache of her life. As a result, she fleed from town with a human artificer and a fae chef - both now smugglers - pursued by an utterly furious flesh-crafter. I'm not sure I'm selling how good this podcast is but it's very good.

Life With Althaar: (Sci-Fi, Comedy) A human repairman moves to a space station on the edge of human territory that is perpetually on the edge of self-destruction, and ends up with a less-than-ideal last-minute roomate. Althaar is polite, friendly, deeply interested in human culture, and eager to be friends. Unfortunately he belongs to a species that sends humans into a visceral panic at a glance.

Lost Terminal: (Sci-Fi, Hopepunk) Seth is a very lonely AI living on a satellite. His crew were left stranded aboard with no hope of return, and it's been longer than he can count since then. The Earth below him has changed dramatically, and with only a few other AI down there to talk to, he's very lonely. But! He has a plan to make some new friends.

Love and Luck: (Romance, Slice-of-Life and Urban Fantasy Elements) Voice messages cataloguing two young men falling in love and opening a queer dry bar together.

Midnight Radio: (Light Supernatural, Romance) Sybil McIntyre, host of the ever-popular 1950's nightly radio hour, begins exchanging letters with an old fan who has reluctantly returned to visit Sybil's beloved town.

Midst: (Weird Fiction, Western, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Elements) The old-western planetoid islet of Midst floats, rotating steadily, in a sea of reality-warping darkness. Down in the town of Stationary Hill, things are in movement, and vistors from the light above are about to bring unanticipated change. ft a monocycle-riding monster-hunter, radio-famous airship paladins, deadly mica, the universe's peppiest cultist, good dogs, and a really strange businessman.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy and Horror Elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item.

Monstrous Agonies: (Supernatural, Relationship Advice) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

Night Shift: (Urban Fantasy, Investigative) Set in a modern world with the addition of magic, which manifests in small inherited skills/traits, can warp people in horrific ways, or can be manipulated with the right science (and intense work) to induce superpowers. Sebastian Fenn is a barista at Night Shift Coffee, but since things are slow he's decided to start a podcast to talk about various mysteries, crimes and conspiracies around the city, and of course finds himself deeper in them than he'd intended.

The Pasithea Powder: (Sci-Fi, Thriller Elements? I think?) The last major interplanetary war was full of atrocities, but none more infamous then the creation of Pasithea Powder, a memory altering drug which was used to horrible effect and landed it's entire team of creators in prison. So when decorated war hero Captain Sophie Green sees one of them wandering free, worlds away from his prison, she gets in touch with a very old, estranged friend: one Dr. Jane Gonzalez, who's behind bars for the very same reason.

SCP: Find Us Alive: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror and Slice-of-Life elements) You don't need to know anything about SCP to enjoy this. A research team gets trapped in an underground research facility when the complex collapses and the building is dragged into a pocket dimension. The tear it was designed to study begins creating tiny copies of itself, generating strange entities the team needs to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, the entire situation physically resets itself every 30 days. And yet, this is genuinely also an office comedy.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a scout sent to explore and establish early infastructure new world, and the communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Seen and Not Heard: (Slice-of-Life, Drama) Seen and Not Heard follows Bet, who's still adjusting to life a year after a bout of severe illness, and the resulting hearing loss it caused. It's about the ways we make connection, and food, and art, and different kinds of grief.

The Silt Verses: (Horror) In a modern world where gods are abundant, frequently both commercialised and restricted, two devotees of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-Fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Starfall: (Fantasy) Seeking to escape her mysterious past and find some purpose, a young swordswoman joins a travelling actor's troupe. This new life is unfamilar and sometimes stressful, but she's taken under the wing of stagehand Fel, who's determined to help her feel welcome as she experiences the figurative and literal magic of the theatre for the first time.

The Tower: (Weird Fiction) A low-key, meditative podcasy about a young woman who decides to climb a seemingly endless tower. Gorgeous sound design.

The Vesta Clinic: (Sci-Fi) New GP Dr. Fae Underwood, with the expert transcription skills of resident AI Sec, writes up patient reports on human and alien patients of The Vesta Clinic, a medical clinic on the edge of human space. Really comfy and creative.

Victoriocity: (Steampunk, Mystery) Set in the steam-powered Victorian city of Even Greater London, an aspiring journalist and a tired detective find themselves working together to solve a strange murder. I say Victorian but as queen Victoria is now an extensive grandiocity of cyborg components following seven only-kind-of-successful assassinations, you may need to adjust expectations a little.

[rxmqnova]

Hi, do you mind doing a werewolf x wanda

When yn was turned in to a wolf because of a spell and found some bad people that they tortured her, so when the avengers found her, she was very scared, Wanda learnt more about magic and she can break the spell, but that takes a price, she wouldn't be a human, only a werewolf, so that's what she did, but everytime she turns in a wolf, she became more vulnerable, always whining and didn't want to be near people, only with Wanda and sometimes Nat too. When Yn is a wolf she is stuck with Wanda, when she is on a mission, she is with Nat, she is safe with them.

The spell

Y/N: 19 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "You stupid little piece of shit! When I tell bite, you bite! What's so hard on that?!" This big gorilla looking man yells, kicking the young wolf into her stomach before closing the door of the cell.

There's just a weak little whimper heard before the wolf slowly makes her way to the furthest and darkest corner of the cell, laying down to have at least a few seconds of peace.

It really only takes a few seconds until the wolf is back on her feet, scared for her life when she's hearing all of the explosions from outside.

The Avengers only just arrived to take this horrible place down. Everyone is fighting outside now, though Wanda is trying to make her way inside and thanks to her powers she makes it.

Walking all over the place, she spots the cell with the scared wolf that's hiding in the dark corner.

"Oh my god" Wanda whispers to herself, feeling how scared the poor creature is thanks to her powers.

It's never happened before that she could sense an animal's emotion or hear its thoughts. Until now…

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'll get you out of here" Wanda says softly, kneeling down as an attempt to show the wolf she's not an enemy. "Do you have a name?"

The wolf tilts her head, thinking whether or not should she trust this stranger. After thinking for a few seconds, she decides that nothing could be worse than this place and decides to trust the witch.

"Y/N… that's a really nice name. I'm Wanda… How is it possible that I can hear your thoughts?" Wanda mumbles, more to herself, but she's surprised when Y/N answers.

"Wait. Wait. You were a human? But how… a witch? Oh my god" Wanda gasps quietly at Y/N's confession that she used to be a human until she made a mistake and some witch cursed her to stay wolf forever. Wanda gasps even more when Natasha tells her the place will go down in a few minutes over the earpiece. "I will let you out now, okay? I'll lead you out and get you to a safe place. This place will go down soon" The witch explains, opening the door of the cell and hoping the story Y/N just told her is true and the animal won't attack her now.

The wolf slowly walks out of the cell, trying hard not to feel the pain in her stomach from the man's kick earlier. Wanda starts walking out of the base, Y/N following her as fast as she can until both are safe in the quinjet.

"Hm… Wanda, where did you take the dog?" Tony asks, watching Y/N in confusion while Wanda's running her fingers though the fluffy fur.

"This is Y/N and she's a wolf, not a dog. They kept her in a cell down there and she's clearly injured" Wanda sighs before giving her new friend a smile. "One of those guys hurt her, we need to get someone to check her up" She informs, receiving a nod from Bruce.

Thanks to his connections, Bruce gets a vet to come to the compound and check Y/N up. Well, but until they actually arrive to the compound, Y/N just stays near Wanda, resting her head on the witch's lap as Wanda keeps running her fingers through Y/N's fur.

As soon as they arrive to the compound, Wanda doesn't waste a moment and follows Bruce into the lab as the vet is already waiting there, Y/N following righ behind Wanda.

"I'll be here with you all the time, you have nothing to worry about" Wanda assures the nervous wolf.

———

A few weeks has passed since then. Y/N warmed up to everyone a bit, but she still prefers to stay near Wanda all the time… sometimes Natasha if she has to or just feels like it.

Wanda decided to help the young girl cursed into a wolf and has been searching through every book she got from Strange for something that could break the spell.

"Y/N! I have it!" Wanda squeals happily, clapping her hands.

Y/N shoots her head up from the ground where she's been laying, immediately making her way over to Wanda.

"I have it… though it won't take everything back. I need you to think about it, yeah?… The spell won't make you a human again… but a werewolf" Wanda starts. "I'm not sure how will the werewolf thing work, so I need you to think about it and tell me if you're willing to risk it" She tells her friend.

It only takes a few seconds for Y/N until she nods her head, telling Wanda she wants to risk it. If there's a chance she could be a human, at least for a certain time, she's willing to risk it.

"Are you sure?" Wanda asks to make sure, getting the same response as before.

———

It took a few hours until Wanda performed the spell correctly, turning the wolf into a human form.

"Oh my god" Y/N whispers, her eyes filled with tears when she sees a human arms and legs. "Thank you so much" She bursts into tears immediately, making Wanda let out a sigh of relief as she covers the girl with a blanket.

"You're welcome. I'm glad it worked" The witch smiles warmly on which Y/N immediately pulls her in for a tight hug, thanking her a few more times.

After Y/N takes a long wanted shower, Wanda borrows her some of her clothes and the two head to the living room where everyone is.

"Guys… this is Y/N, the wolf that's been running around here" Wanda smiles, nudging Y/N's shoulder playfully.

"Hi" The girl says shyly, giving the Avengers a small wave.

"Oh my god, did you actually break the spell?" Natasha asks first, standing up and walking to the pair. "I'm happy to finally meet you, Y/N" She says with a warm smile, making the girl relax a bit.

"I'm happy to officially meet you too, Natasha" Y/N smiles, shyly wrapping her arms around Natasha and giving her a quick hug, surprising Natasha a bit, but then she chuckles and returns the hug.

"Y/N still isn't a human, she's a werewolf now… whatever that means. We need to find out" Wanda explains, giving Y/N a smile which the girl returns.

———

Another few days passed and Y/N is now a bit more comfortable with everyone, though she still preffers to stay with Wanda… or Natasha if necessary.

Wanda and her even figured out the whole werewolf thing. There was a full moon a few days ago which really helped.

"Wanda, do you really have to go?" Y/N asks with a sigh, flopping down on Wanda's bed.

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N. I really have to. I'll be back in a few days" Wanda smiles softly, sitting down next to Y/N and giving her a hug. The two have become really close over the past days. "Natasha's going to be with you the entire time, you have nothing to worry about. I'll be back before you know it" She tries to calm down the younger girl, rubbing her back as Y/N cuddles up to her.

"I know it's just… it feels weird when you're not here" Y/N sighs, avoiding eye-contact with the older girl.

"It's just a few days, honey. When I'm back we'll do some awesome movie night, yeah?" Wanda suggests, receiving a smile and a nod from the girl. "I really have to go now. I'll see you in few days" She says, giving Y/N one last hug before disappearing.

Y/N stays in Wanda's room for a few seconds and then leaves, turning into a wolf as soon as she closes the door of Wanda's room. She found herself doing that everytime she feels off for some reason.

She slowly walks to the living room, hoping Natasha would be there to give her some cuddles. Luckily for Y/N, Natasha's on the couch, watching some movie with the others, so Y/N just jumps up on the couch and rests her head on Natasha's lap.

"What's up, Y/N/N?" Natasha asks the upset wolf, immediately placing her hand on Y/N's head and running her fingures through the fur. "Wanda left for a mission already, didn't she?"

Y/N only lets out a quiet whimper in response, turning her head a little bit, so she could just watch whatever movie the Avengers are watching, hoping it would take her mind off of the fact how much she misses Wanda already. This will definitely be the longest few days in Y/N's life…

----------------------

Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know that I'm working on every single request I've gotten so far <33 Might as well post two in one day if I finish them earlier <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[solargeist]

I’m new here and I love everything you’re making already ! I’m just wondering what the story here is?

hello !!!! thank you !!

the story here is uh, an AU of Evo Smp by Grian ! My tag is [here]

i assume thats what ur asking ?

The short version: The story is abt a young man leaving his life behind and joining a bunch of angels, but its not what he thought it'd be like and he regrets it and goes on the run for a long time.

The long version: The angels, known as Watchers, are known to watch players, only interacting to give them new things and updates, or punish them for breaking rules, such as being greedy.

They originally did not like Grian, seeing him as too robust, but over time he catches their (many) eyes, a diamond in the rough... He shows many characteristics of a promising Watcher, he enjoys setting pranks and stalking people, finding entertainment in explosions and traps, and always craving more.

So they start talking to him, they usually don't speak directly to players, only leaving notes, but they talk to him, he's special they say. He calls them the Audience.

The Watchers talk to him often, giving him compliments on his building skills, on his pranks, or they just listen as he rambles abt his life.

Grian is an orphan, I mean he is 25 at this point in time, but he grew up without parents. He has a little sister he took care of, but shes also grown now. Theres a small part of him that has grief over this, that ache, or longing, to have grown up with a regular family, to be taken care of. The Watchers catch onto this, its their job really to notice. They already think of him as a child, but they start acting more familial now, asking if he ate, or slept, or checking him over for any scratches, (much like a mother would--but he swallows these thoughts down, insisting this is how angels are to every player, but its not true, they let him know how much potential he has, so promising ! so special !)

That small part of him really starts to ache and grow.

This isn't the only thing the Watchers do though, they also make a tiny little effort to separate him from other players, quietly isolating him so the transition will be easier. It works, Grian notices his friends not coming around as often, they're probably busy, so he doesn't want to bother them. This goes on for awhile, any negative thought Grian expresses, the Watchers will agree with, in a gentle way... Sometimes people grow apart.. Sometimes you outgrow people.. Its for the better. He festers in these ideas, sometimes just laying on the stone floor of his basement, having not spoken to anyone in days. He looks forward to when the angels come around, even if they're just small floating eyes, sometimes a hand will split through reality and ruffle his hair. (if he leans into the touch, he doesn't realize)

Grian thinks that small aching part of him has outgrown his body.

One day, after who knows how long, the Watchers encourage him to meet up with his fellow players again. He questions why, but they tell him it'll be good for him to go play, theres a portal for them all to go through, a dragon on the other side. Its actually quite nice talking to everyone again, a bit awkward, but they're joking around, and when they find the portal, Grian jumps in before anyone can finish speaking. He was always rather impulsive ! He jumps through and stands alone on a platform, laughing to himself in the dark void, waiting for everyone else to go through. But no one does, the Watchers didn't tell him he'd be alone after jumping through, separated from the group, he feels abandoned. That ache rises again, hurt and anger twisting together, forming embarrassment. The Watchers were right in telling him he doesn't have anyone else to rely on, but them. So he does his quest, he kills the dragon by himself, an arrow between its eyes and it hits the ground behind him, dragging.

Hes sweaty, his clothes are burnt and torn, he's exhausted and he just wants to go home and climb in bed, no matter how dirty he is right now, but before he can go through, an angel statue catches his attention, it slowly moves off its pedestal, having watched his entire fight.

He didn't realize how tall they were off the pedestal, they also wear dark clothes that hide their faces and form, but two large dark wings peak out, its not exactly expected from angels. (Grian is 5'0, every Watcher towers over him)

They talk, and She offers him a place with the Watchers, if he wants to join them..... He's tired, hes hurt, and he's still mad at everyone, how could he say no ? He agrees.

Upon becoming a Watcher and being welcomed into a new world, he gets a haircut, he gets new clothes, and he gets a new room. The buildings rly are beautiful here, he gawks at the architecture, THIS is what he wanted, what he craved, he wanted to do this work too, the tools he could get his hands on has him bouncing on his heels and barely paying attention to the Watcher.

This excitement doesn't last too long, after hes introduced to others and settled in, theres new expectations on him, hes a Watcher now, not just a player, so things are gonna be harder to impress now. The Watchers have to shape him into a Watcher, so they don't let him sleep for a few days, to soften his attitude, they only stop this when he breaks down in exhaustion and tears, but his manners are better like they wanted.

Grian's not allowed to go out by himself, he can't leave the island even if he wanted to anyway, so most of his time is spent within the main few buildings, exploring the halls and library, its a good thing, bc they also make him study a lot, theres a lot to learn abt Watchers and their history, their magic, and their culture.

They don't give him glasses, instead teaching him enchantment magic to use instead, its good to always have Watcher magic flowing through your blood. His eyes are a constant soft purple.

Watchers, being angels, don't rly have to eat, so if Grian wants to eat, he has to ask a Watcher to summon food for him, the fruit tastes good, but anything cooked is always off or completely wrong. If he asks, they'll give him raw ingredients to cook by himself, with supervision of course. (not that he needs it, he is 25 years old and raised himself)

The one particular Watcher that has responsibility over him is named Aether, also known as Watcher Mum, shes the one that makes sure he has food, clothes, and is generally taken care of. She's a lot softer on him than expected, he's so cute ! and tiny ! She can't be strict on him ! She cuts his fruit into little shapes for him, even though he didn't rly ask.

The thing abt having Watcher magic flowing through his body near constantly, is that its slowly changing him. He grows wings, and it hurts so bad he thinks hes dying, they rip out of his skin after a few weeks, splattering blood across his room and bed. Aether cleans that and him up, tending to the wound. She doesn't have worry in her voice when she comments on how bright and pretty his wings are under all the blood. Its moments like this where Grian wonders how much of a mistake he's made, as he stares at the Watchers' extra eyes, and talon hands, he wonders when that'll happen to him, and how much it'll hurt, and how its his fault.

Ah, i'll stop here, its getting very long and I haven't even touched on his run away, or the Listeners, or what Watchers are, or the s6-s8 recovery and relapse arc, or the different timeline connections and his God self he accidentally created and doomed-- i ahve a lot stored in my head *explodes*

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Can you tell us how your boys feel about kids.

I saw that blue doesn’t like children so I got curious.

Undertale Sans - He's not very expressive so it's hard to know, but he likes kid a hell lot. They're funny, gullible and they somehow takes everything he's saying for true which leads to the best laughs of his life. He's a bit nostalgic too of the time it was just him and Papyrus.

Undertale Papyrus - He loves kids, but it's not difficult because he loves everyone. But his kid especially. He's going to make sure they never miss anything to the point he can get a bit protective and it's certainly not an unhealthy way to cope with how painful his childhood was in the streets :D

Underswap Sans - Oh god, please no. Children make him so nervous. He's very uncomfortable around them, and he usually lets S/O take care of them if he has some one day. He is full of insecurities, way more than he thinks, and the fact his brother almost died from starvation when they were younger probably is the cause of that. He prefers to stay away.

Underswap Papyrus - He loves children, he wants children. He's one of the best dad to have, very loving and attentive, and he's working hard on his insecurities with children, to the point they completely disappear sometimes. He's just dad material.

Underfell Sans - He's a great dad, he just doesn't know it... Red spends more time thinking he will be a horrible dad and not enough realizing all the kids in the neighborhood likes him and sees him as a sort of father figure. If he ever has a child, that will be the revelation of the century for him lol.

Underfell Papyrus - He loves children but he's way too protective so when the kids reach the teenage era, he might struggle a lot with this. He wants all his kids safe and it's a bit obsessional. Other than that, he's a great dad. A little strict, but patient. He explains things very well to kids too.

Horrortale Sans - He loves kids but kids don't love him all the time :( He's always sad when he accidentally makes a child cry in the street because he's big and scary. He's nothing but a huge teddy bear with his own kid, with a bit of feral paternity lol. He's very nice, but threat his kids and suddenly you might die lol.

Horrortale Papyrus - He loves children, but it's hard to keep up with their energy. He has too many health problems to raise kids, or that's what he tells himself because he has no self-confidence. He's a gentle giant. He's lecturing kids a lot though. He's definitely a dad-strict-mom deep inside.

Swapfell Sans - See that squirrel girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? That's his kid. Nox has a dad girl who always comes looking for him when she has any problem and he will say yes to any of her temper tantrums because that's his little princess. That's his baby girl and he will fight anything trying to take her from him with his fists lol.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's that Dad who doesn't seem to really care about anything, but it's actually not the case. He likes when kids learn things by themselves, so yeah, the kid is going to get hurt, a lot. But they will draw on all his bones too, cooking explosive cakes, paints the walls of the house... Rus is a fun dad.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Uh, no thanks. Kids make him too anxious. He's struggling with Coffee already, he doesn't need more people he needs to watch over obsessionally, thanks. Or he could take the opportunity to, you know, see a therapist about this. But, uh, not today.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's going to give his anxiety to his kids lol. They all have a very strong bond when they are together. However, if one of them is missing, everyone is panicking, father including, and it turns terribly wrong. Every time. That's going to be complicated lol.

[crying-fantasies]

In acceptance

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2

"So you aren't from the stars?" Jazz almost laughs, he chooses to keep silence while smiling, maybe a snicker did get out of his voice box, looking at you and some telescope he helped to get back together, at first you didn't tell him why you wanted it so bad, but then you said: "I want to see your home"

He was happy with youru enthusiasm, still, he didn't want to see sadness overwhelm your happy face if, naturally, youdidn't find it, "Cybertron isn't there, sweetspark", and that's how your question came to be, so he had to explain.

"Cybertron is pretty far, far away" the idea made him sad, moving his servos to put more distance, make his point present and for distraction of your sadness, "we can't see it from here"

"Not even with this?" You showed him your little telescope, Jazz kept on his smile, running a digit on your little head, you were trying to make him smile, truly do it.

"If my ol' pal Percy was here, I'm more than sure he would've loved to show you", you made a little sound, hands on his armor and almost climbing on him, Jazz let you do your do, it wasn't the first time you did it and he learned to put his servos at a certain distance to prevent any accident, he was grateful in the way you shook your shoes before putting them on his armor.

"Percy seems to be a good bot", you took seat with ease, recharging on his mid section, he could feel your warm body, how you kept on looking at the sky.

"Indeed", he helped you, using a digit to direct you to the correct way, Cybertron may be hundreds of light years away but that was the correct direction.

One he still remembers and will possibly never forget.

"Do you miss your home?" The lense was now directed at him, you got him thinking, he did miss Cybertron, but the Cybertron from before war.

He wasn't going to tell you about gruesome war details, you were a being born and raised in moderate peace, Optimus would never let you or other humans be tainted by their war if he could do something about it first.

But it was happening already.

"I do, there I had a big habsuit unit with all my favorite instruments"

"Like your electric bass"

"Like my Aghartan electro bass, uhum, I'd many, an' sometimes I had time to play some, play with the cords and even reunite with friends to make music together"

It was easy, talk to you have always been easy and comfortable once the usual screaming died down, you were little then, young even to human standard, full of curiosity for the world around you and the one Jazz told you about, a world full of mechs like and unlike him, "some angry like Ratchet?" "Some like Ratch, but don't call him that, he'll get sad", and all the great things his people did, every great invention done to improve the life of every bot around "Like what Wheeljack did yesterday?" "Yes, but without the fire and the explosion"

You were full of questions he was willing to answer and you were full of attention and understanding he was grateful to have, more than once Jazz thought he was kind of making you see things way too different, in some way? He wasn't sure, but it was endearing when you tried to give him a rusting piece of metal after he told you about how he liked rust sticks and how those were famous snacks back in Cybertron.

Jazz couldn't consume it, Ratchet would be nagging at him endlessly if he consumed rust of a metal stick that has been who-knows-where, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Time moved on, because that's what it does, Jazz left you for what seemed to be a few days, like you called it, and when he came back you weren't little anymore, well, you were indeed little, but not as he remembered while he used his servo to compare how you changed, but you didn't let him do more than use his scanner and HUD while getting away from his most physical iterations.

"Nice upgrades there" you looked embarrassed, he wasn't sure why, you had little things on your face which you tried to cover, you didn't have those before, "a nice surprise to be sure", you looked mortified by his words and he should've been prepared for your hormone induced changes and how to handle them without previous preparation, he wasn't like that when his armor first formed, but hey, everyone rolled different.

"Don't lie, this is horrible" you truly disliked your upgrades, and he tried to understand your point of view, he holds a digit to you and your response was almost instantaneous, little hands taking his servo, looking puzzled when you saw a little thing on it, "What is this?"

"Just a lil' something, a comm' line specially for you, so that we can talk al' night long" he pointed to his audials, and you took the thing to your ear, at that very same moment he took on his wheels and put some distance, you looked confused for a moment but then you heard his voice directly on your ear, "I missed you, sweetspark"

Your face was red, and Jazz laughed softly at your wide eyes, looking at his alt-mode almost mesmerized, shiny by tears he knew, and hoped, were of happiness, "Happy 20 earth orbital cycles".

Your laugh made him laugh, even when you didn't do it as much as before, at least you smiled for him and he could hear your happiness from the communicator.

It was brightness in all it's splendor, a moment he wanted to preserve on his databank for eternity, knowing full well, even among all his positiveness, that someone will come and take it away from his servos mercilessly.

Just like he thought it did happen, but little by little, and he didn't have time nor response to cover you in time, things got darker, uglier by every mean, and he didn't want you dragged in between all the spilled energon and blood dripping from his servos, but taking distance wasn't enough, it was never enough, everything they touched, everything their war touched was indeed bound to be destroyed in front of them, in front of him, and even when Jazz wasn't there to see for himself you being ripped from life he felt it, silence filling the space around him, making difficult even his movement, radio silence and interference that he tried to keep away with every song you've said you loved in front of him or at least hummed near him, always being mindful of you and in what you could talk next time he saw you or got to call you.

But now he couldn't reach you, all he had was music, songs to fill the void, and oh boy, does he has a very long masterlist, all thanks to you, but is your very same existence that got the silence there, like a menacing presence waiting for the pause in between the words to drag him down again.

When he was a younger spark Jazz liked to think that things, even in the worst days, could take a turn for the better, well, on those days the worst that could happen to him was a disgruntled mech trying to make a ruckus in the streets and his job was to take care of it as the police, or the days he forgot to pay a bill, something that at the moment was almost extenuating or stressing at worst, daydreaming about being a musician.

Now, those things were like jokes when he finally returns to earth's surface, looking at the devastation around, at the bodies or frames lacking of life or spark, everything was consumed and, at the end, destroyed with their killer.

He helps with the reconstruction, he wants to get his servos to work, filling on hope and hang there for dear life, with time Primus does have mercy on him and he gets hope, finding friends he thought were now lost, humans and bots alike, he is happy while he moves with the group of founded people and bots that is getting bigger with time, helping move the debris away in search for more survivors or to mourn whoever they find too late.

It's not until he gets near your house that his hope, once again, faltered and also incremented, he has been in this place so many times, be it die or dead missions searching for cons, be it little escapades with you sleeping soundly over his chassis on his alt-mode while music is playing or singing.

Be it just looking at the few stars on the polluted sky.

Is a place full of memories, some that attack him even when he doesn't want them now, not when he gets a distress signal being showed on his internal computer, almost making him go back by the surprise, last thing he thought to see when he put a pede on your city was to get a distress signal from you communication device, the very same one he gave you years ago.

He doesn't listen, Jazz is a bot with a mission once again when he gets to where the distress signal in coming from, it's weak, almost not existing, but he holds on hope for dear life itself again while his servos get the debris away, shouting out your name and expecting you to call out for his designation.

Still, when his friends get to him is to take him away, telling him that it's fine when his servo circuits are again so weak Jazz can't get back on his pedes by himself, searching for strength to raise again in Ironhide's arms that are holding him when all he finds is the almost off-lined gadget, destroyed beyond repair, finally giving up it's last energy after being found and ceasing any signal.

It was nothing more than a wish, a prayer, that he would find you, and yet again he can't bring himself to smile when he has to look at his group, he feels tired, he feels so tired while looking at all the destruction and he doesn't know if he can keep going.

"Jazz?"

In all honesty, he thinks his brain module really got damaged when he hears your voice, maybe he has really lost it to this point, just like Prowl told him he would when he got back to earth with a goal on mind, "Numbers don't look good" Prowl has always been direct with this, with him, and it's something Jazz has come to accept and be grateful for because his friend does care, "don't rise your hopes too high" he told Jazz before he smiled back at him, the light on his visor weak enough to be blow off like a candle.

"Hope is the last thing you lose, Prowler"

"Jazz, are you okay?!" You are covered in wounds, dirt and one of your eyes is almost painted red and purple around, one of your arms looks out of place with the group of survivors that looked in the same damaged state, there is dried blood on you and Jazz reminds himself to be careful, to not scare you away like the last time he saw you.

He is running away from Ironhide's grip, who let's him go happily, Jazz is indeed careful, like he has always been with you, but that doesn't stop him from raising you in the air and bring you close with a hug, shielding you from the world with his whole body, to who is he saying never endings thank you's is still a mystery to you, but you still feel every word with his intake pressed to your head while one servo holds it there and the other presses you to his chassis.

You do hug him back, at least with the last good arm you have, and that's what makes you cry in relief and makes him hug you harder.

.

In the cannon continuity Jazz's human indeed dies, being one of the victims of Unicron and it's Maximals army, Jazz does find what was left and the communicator he gave as a gift, he stays on earth like the comic and tries to cherish the past with friends that he has lost.

In this continuity, in this AU! Jazz is happy, he is reunited with his human that later on is his conjunx, he is creator of three younglings and still very much in love with his conjunx, Jazz gets his happy ending in my AU! Because I adore him and because he deserves it.

[nights-legacy]

How do you think Class 1-A would react to having a female classmate who has a quirk that works like Blake's semblance from RWBY?

In the form of platonic headcanons please! Thank you!

Masterlist MHA Masterlist #2

I have never seen this show in my life, so I hope I do it justice. 😬😅

Here is a link to the character from the request. -- Blake RWBY

• You had gotten into UA on Recommendation due to the strength and complexity.

• At first, your classmates didn't know what to think. Sometimes, they didn't know if it was really you or if it was a clone. Most of them thought your quirk was awesome, others thought it was blaaa. *cough, cough.* Bakugou. *cough, cough*

• That being said, you and Bakugou didn't get along. He was explosive and you were dismissive. You did react much when he tried to rile you up. You did speak up when he got too much with the others though.

• You did get along with Tokoyami really well. You two were very similar. Quiet, dark, and caring.

• It was surprising to the Class when they first witnessed the complexity of your quirk. When they saw your clones have the elemental abilities, they were floored. It was during the first class at Ground Beta that they got a small peak, but it was at the USJ that they saw the real deal.

• No villain was able to get near you. Unfortunately, you were knocked out by running up at the wrong moment to where Kaminari, Jirou, and Momo were at when Kami shocked the hell out of the villains. (Kami is extremely sorry when he comes out of his stupor.)

• Later, you would find out that Kaminari and Todoroki's quirks would help charge the elemental powers of your clones. Bakugo's does too.

• It took awhile for anyone to really get close to you. Not because you didn't want to make friends or that they didn't want anything to do with you. You just had a hard time making friends.

• You were an only child and you didn't have many cousins. You also didn't have a lot of friends in middle school either. Plus your parents didn't help either. They were picky about who they let you hang out with.

• If the kid was too "Low class" there was no way they were letting you hang out with them. If your parents didn't get along with or were insulted by the other kids' parents, then you weren't allowed to talk to them again.

• So you eventually gave up with trying to make friends. Your parents tried to defend themselves by saying they were doing it for you, saying that they were looking out for you (they just wanted to have you ascend them in popularity.)

• The Class blew the walls your parents built sky high once they got through to you. Your parents no longer had a say.

• Everyone cheered everyone on. Well except a certain blonde. The class became a much needed source of encouragement and love you've needed for a long time.

• You were still the same quiet person but now you had people who you could actually get Crazy with.

• As mentioned before, you and Tokoyami got along really well. Dark shadow also liked you very much. You weren't afraid of the creature at all which pleasantly surprised them both. You also really got a kick out of his demeanor and personality. You two could spend hours reading together. You would recommend new books to each other. You two just enjoyed each other's company.

• You and Todoroki got along really nicely too. You both knew what it was like to have controlling parents. You were able to help him calm down and work with the emotions his father caused.

• Kirishima, Mina, and Uraraka always made sure to include you or invite you to everything. They never forced you to be loud or do anything you didn't want to.

• You did enjoy using your quick to mess with Monoma. You, Kaminari, and Sero can't stand the guy and your quirk lets you mess with him easily. He can't copy your quirk from your clones and he hasn't learned how to tell which is the original.

• Aizawa became a father figure to you just like he did for others. You tried not to give him trouble and tried to keep some of the others in line which he appreciated. Your quirk was new to him due to the multiple aspects to it. If he was asked, you were one of his favorite students. (You were definitely not one that gave him gray hairs.)

• Even though you weren't close with some and didn't get along with others, Class 1A was your family. You would do anything for them. Follow them to war and never stop to bring someone home if they're lost.

Tag List: @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @l0vely-lee

[stephdragonness]

hey steph How do you work with most N team and minions most the day?

((i'll just write down most interaction she has most around when working with N team. possible draw up scenes sometime but just now a list.))

*Steph the Sorceress pov

Doctor Neo Cortex "i think its pretty open secret how my relationship with the doctor is like, dont think i need to say much."

Dingodile "well dingo not always around, there times go out lunch and bump into big fella, he reminded me in lot like a dragon so im comfortable around dingodile brash manner when other put off by his apperance, always nice for a chat on recipes of cooking, even tho his particular recipes do have things no one else can digest unlike dingos crocodilian nature to digest most things foul... but his roast penguin is pretty tasty on the menu."

Nefarious Tropy "certainly a interesting fella, no doubt handsome human, but our first meeting when i was in human form, he made mistake of thinking i was some sort payed escort when he heard i was dating the doctor... hmm so things left very sour in my mouth about him for while but we do have have talks of intellectual manner time to time.. prideful man and see way he very confident in his work."

Uka Uka "honestly, i do not trust or like this dark entity.. he try's order me like a minion even though i don't work for him as i contract Allie to Dr. Cortex and not to uka uka so he has no power over me, I buttheads to many time him as only barrier between him and doc. after one docs schemes where he was 'milked' for his dark mojo he been keeping his distance for now."

Komodo Brothers "not lot times i get meet the brothers, they tend stay away from doctors schemes these days and i heard they make living with fake jewellery selling in some markets. they occasionally called in by doctor for something big but its rare moment but i like there style, they reminded me of rouge types. joe is a smarts and clever with his swords and moe i find just sweetheart and they both seem be ok around my little zaran, see them play boardgames together."

N. Gin "Dr. Ngin was some first people on team to make me feel welcome, he has his moments but gentle manner so easy work with when i need help understanding tech of earth at times, he introduce me to games consoles so we moments racing games or those RPGs play together."

Nina Cortex "ah, Nina.. She was very hard warm up to and i know she is Docs beloved niece and so trying find some common ground with teenager too some time to build up, but we have our moments able bond, help out her assignments of school, girl talk on things she doesn't wish her uncle to know about.. so its slow for now i get it i might be aunty someday to her."

Nitrus Brio " a man who i mix feelings about, his bit ornery and fickle but i guess ok work with, we got along ok, I'm like to use alchemy and him a chemist so we have moments discuss on the matters at hand, but it comes do know being on competitive manner saying which is better alchemy of dragon realms or chemistry of earth. so our conversation get bit heated into debate."

Papu Papu "not much interactions with local tribal chief, when i do visit insanity island where the tribes are, i tend keep to my dragon form there as it dangerous with the locals now, so they keep wide birth from me... im sure i seen by them as omen of sorts."

Pinstripe Potoroo "ah, very confident and sleek dude, handsome face with vibes of street smarts, he like other minions who have there own life away from doc and only called in on big jobs. he always polite and a flirt when when i meet him first time. but nothing much as i don't have any work with him."

Ripper Roo "oooh yes the crazy one, apparently the blue roo took a liking to me when i came live in dr cortex current lair, followed me around lot times like a love sick puppy but he settle down now, he seem have moment of sanity and the his doctor persona pops out so easy deal with... but when the insane explosive manic comes out, the morning tnt blow up on the roof wake up calls are horrible to deal with.. cant sleep in some morning cause of whole place shaking."

Tiny Tiger "docs most loyal minion, he one stays living with doc and most time the bodyguard of the current lair, i find him be rather like big kid, i indulge moments play with checkers and help him with certain problems and so return he help with lot heavy lifting things when i need extra hand, real sweetheart."

Lab Assistant "these things are lil off putting, i kinda get they like golems with instructions for there AIs but its unsettling be around them cause remind me to much like dolls.. i don't like dolls as they creep me out."

"others i haven't meet cause most no longer work for dr cortex or moved on life, i heard the wild story's of characters like four legged racing aliens, living fruit ect ect.. but most who around islands to but that's another time to discuss about."

[alienaiver]

Hello! For the writting game what about Bakugo + 43?? :D

HELLO! <3 i am so sorry for the wait, but YES! bakugou is so fun.... he'd hate me for calling him adorable BUT HE IS! 🥺🧡

number 43 was "this is the third time you’ve broken a promise to me, I’m starting to think you are doing it on purpose.” so i tried to do something fun with it!!! (i am mostly a fluff writer, after all.....) ✨

there're no warnings and this turned out to be 1.1k words! bakugou is called your work wife tho, he got that energy<3

Your eyebrow twitch as you stare at the notification on your phone. It’s a confirmation e-mail for your purchase of a brand-new refrigerator with the delivery details included inside.

Except, you did not order a new one. At least not yet.

You shouldn’t be on your phone right now, but the notification intrigued you and now you’re just perplexed. It hasn’t even been 45 minutes since you complained to Bakugou about your fridge breaking down and how the expenses for a new one will be astronomical to your budget.

Bakugou Katsuki, the man you’re in love with, is with almost a hundred percent certainty, the one who’s done this without your permission. You scroll down and can’t stop a shriek from escaping you at the total.

If you accept this, it’ll be the most expensive thing you own.

You roll your eyes and put down your phone to massage your temples. This is getting out of hand. He is purposely going out of his way to break his promise to you these days and it’s adding gray hairs to your head and wrinkles to your forehead.

You are Pro Hero Dynamight’s personal secretary, managing everything to do with his Pro Hero life. Sometimes you wish he’d hired a PR manager too, but you digress and just thank the stars you’re good at your job.

Six months ago, you confessed your feelings to him.

It went about as bad as it could go. He’d invited you to dinner, something he’d done often – he doesn’t have many people in his life that doesn’t have to do with his line of work. He can’t find the time, he always says. You’d felt brave and confident when you confessed, but he froze immediately as the confession left your mouth. Stumbled upon words to find a nice way to turn you down while maintaining your current relationship.

He never gave you a proper reason, but you suppose you’ve been fine without one. Ever since that day, he’s been buried in work trying to rise further in the ranks. He’s in the top three now and you’ve noticed he’s slowed down significantly again, seemingly satisfied with his current position. You pretend to tidy up some papers on the left of your desk, to keep your hands occupied as you attempt to calm down before walking into Bakugou’s office to scold him.

You’d only given him two rules back then, promising everything would turn back to normal if he promised not to break them: a) Don’t talk about the confession and pretend it didn’t happen and b) that he should not, under any circumstances, compensate his guilt by buying you things. You’d rather wilt into the ground than let pity run your friendship.

But there’s been a pattern the past few weeks. When you walked home from a dinner party at Kirishima’s place a little over a week ago, he’d teasingly mentioned your crush on him, a tilt to his voice you hadn’t heard before. You blamed it on the wine that evening and Kirishima’s joke about Bakugou being your work wife.

He also bought you a ridiculously expensive kitchen set of pans, casseroles, and knives this weekend after cooking at your house and complaining about the quality of your stuff – or lack thereof, more like.

You puff up your cheeks to try and alleviate some anger but it ends up just festering, growing. Did he forget your promise? That feels out of character for Bakugou – maybe he does have stress from his hard work.

Maybe he blew a fuse in his brain.

You accidentally startle a passerby when you abruptly stand up, prepared to yell at the most explosive hero in Musutafu. You’ll be fine.

You hope.

Before your anger fizzles, you aggressively force his door open, making him look up in irritation from his documents, but you see his brow relax at the sight of you. It pisses you off even more.

As you approach his ridiculously large desk, he leans back and takes off his reading glasses, fidgets with them in his hands. He knows what this is about. If he smirks, you’ll burn down his office, you decide.

Luckily for him, he doesn’t. He keeps a straight face as you stand with your arms crossed looking down at him. With a petulant sigh, you rub the space between your eyebrows as you speak, “y’know, this is the third time you’ve broken a promise to me, I’m starting to think you are doing it on purpose.”

He leans further back in his chair as he puts the glasses down. He looks almost bored as you chance a look at him. You’re about to back-track (so much for a violent chew-out, your brain adds) and stumble over words when he smiles, all teeth and closed eyes, “I’m busted, huh?”

Huh?

Huh, fucking indeed.

He smirks then, but your brain has already forgotten its prior decision and is instead following his every movement as he gets up and rounds the desk to stand by you. The confidence he exuded on his way over wanes slightly the closer he gets, and not only his cheeks but his ears and neck get redder and redder.

He clears his throat when he deems himself close enough and your brain reminds you to turn your body towards him. You fail to do so but just stare blankly at him.

“When you confessed I…” his voice is unnaturally strained and high-pitched so he clicks his tongue to gather himself, “I’d already planned that I’d confess to you when I would reach the top three…”

Huh?

It seems your brain has lost most of its vocabulary.

He shakes his head to gather himself again before reaching out to take your hand – you let him. Breathlessly, he says your name and you never considered your own name to be beautiful before you heard it in this exact octave.

“I wasn’t sure how to confess… or let you know… and I was afraid your feelings had died down… so I had to do some testing before I was confident…”

Bakugou? Not confident? You accidentally snort out loud and finally, finally your brain catches up and you’re able to move your body so you’re facing him properly. He scowls but squeezes your hand nonetheless, “’m in love with you.”

You must’ve blanked out because he says your name again, this time annoyed as he leans over to see if you’re ignoring him on purpose. You come back to yourself as his eyes are searching yours and that’s the moment you can’t take this anymore. You lean forward to kiss him, and the grunt he lets out makes you smirk, knowing you’re the one with the upper hand right now – even if your heart is beating just as fast as his is.

Maybe it’s not so bad that he broke a few promises. This is the perfect apology.

[thedo0zyslider]

For the writing asks pretty please a Zombiecleo 🥹👉👈

a zombiecleo! Just for you :]

[Writing requests lol]

Cleo hums, quickly throwing her hair into a ponytail. She's alone in the clock tower for now, the boys having gone out to do.....to do God knows what, really. Probably blowing up their neighbors, if she had to guess. But what they do doesn't matter to her. Not right now, because she's not with them!

Though she does fully expect to here TNT going off sometime soon. Maybe within in hour. TNT that could maybe be from her boys, or someone else. She won't know and it won't matter to them, either. Not unless she finds the explosion hole or asks for the story later.

It's nice, having the clock tower all to herself. Quiet, too. Minus the ticking of the towers namesake. But she barely even notices that anymore, after living here for a few now. Or, what has to be a few weeks. Cleo's pretty sure they've been here for a good few weeks. The key words there being pretty sure. Running around every night, all night, and all day will make you lose track of time. It will make the days start to blend together a bit, into one big blur of movement and running and TNT explosions and swordfights.

Kind of ironic of them, really, to lose track of time while living in a clock tower. But some things just can't be helped.

She could ask Scott how long they've been here. He's probably been keeping count, he always does. Says it helps him keep his head straight. Or, well, as straight as one's head can be in a death game. (Insert a classic Scott gay joke here about how he's never been able to keep his head straight.)

Expect she....hasn't really talked to Scott much. Not since the game had first started. Which was definitely weird for them. They'd spoken often in literally every single death game so far, if her decently foggy memories were actually right. So yeah, this was a weird thing for them, and Scott was probably kinda upset about it....

...It's just, well, he teamed up with Martyn. Martyn Littlewood, her ex soulmate, the guy who made her life living hell the last time with that stupid soulbond. She complained so much to Scott about him last time and then he teamed up with the man! She didn't know they did teaming up with ex soulmates was a thing now! Especially the ones you spent several hours a night shit-talking.

Instead of sighing dramatically, like she really wants too, Cleo just hums again. It's some tune Bdubs had made up, once upon a time. Usually it's better at claiming her down. But perhaps it's magic has faded with time. Or something stupid like that.

Scott had teamed with Martyn. Cleo was upset about it. Scott was probably upset she wasn't talking to him, and Marytn probably didn't have a damn clue any of this was going on. Pearl had been rather mercifully, and maybe purposefully, left out of all their bullshit this time. (Though she was teaming with BigB, something she could've and absolutely would do to irritate Cleo. They'd have to look into that later, after the Scott Issue was sorted.

....If it ever got sorted.)

It was a mess of a situation, but it would be fine, Cleo told themselves. It would all blow over. By the next death game they'd all be friends again. They'd all be holding hands and promising not to kill each other while knowing they eventually would. That's how it always went in this place. If you just let the problem blow over, it'll all be fine and you can all go back to being horrible people again. Easy as pie. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy, or however that saying went.

Cleo holds back a sigh for a second time, and hims for a third. She has more pressing things to think about than her possibly ruined relationship with Scott. An explosion just sounded off in the distance, and she was basically a hundred percent sure that was Bdubs screaming. Better of save her boys before they die again.

Cleo opens the door to the clocktower, makes sure her ponytail is secure, then goes to investigate whatever the hellos happening. Maybe this will help her problems blowover. Maybe she'll end up dying forver and never having to think about them again. Who knows, really.

She runs towards what is definitely Bdubs shrieking like a little girl, and starts to think the second option might be better.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Listening

First posted: April 14, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Tier: Middle of the pack at best

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

More than once person requested a continuation of Carried for the one-year ficiversary prompt, so after Shoulder to Shoulder I wrote this. Since I already rehashed Janet's funeral from Dick's POV, I figured it was time to take on Bruce, but for what happened after.

Bruce didn’t know what he was doing. On paper, he was trying, just like he had promised Dick. But Dick, ever the optimist, had underestimated just how broken Bruce was. I don’t know how to do this, he admitted to no one, but surely they could tell. 

Bruce is Not Well, y'all. Like bless him outwardly he's all 🗿, but internally? Parental Panic 24/7.

Dick had been too young and traumatized to notice when he had first come to the Manor. Jason—would it always hurt like this, just thinking his name?—Jason had expected everything and nothing of him and so hadn’t been disappointed to receive something in the middle. But what ground Bruce had gained, he had lost in a gleaming swing and a deafening explosion.

I would remove the "gleaming swing" because I'm not sure Bruce would know about the crowbar specifically, and even if he did, I'm not sure he would think of it in those terms. (Also it sounds more like a sword?) I'd want another adjective-noun pairing there for balance, though. Just "deafening explosion" doesn't feel right. The rest of it is nice, though, very true to how Bruce perceives his own efforts and how/why he feels his kids forgave his many mistakes.

Unlike the others, Tim had been unwanted. Bruce could admit that to himself, if to no one else. Tim had been the chirping bird on the windowsill, urging him to meet the dawn when all Bruce wanted to do was never wake up again. Tim had been the buffeting blow of an airbag to the face, the ricochet of a guardrail, the snap of a harness.

Hello, still fairly fresh off It Wasn't Real, howzitgoin. It's awfully fun to take a thing that two characters are each secretly thinking and secretly agree on and show how very far apart they remain on what that thing means. Tim knows Bruce did not want him around at first, and he carries that rejection with him long past when it was valid. Bruce acknowledges Tim wasn't wanted at first but places the onus of that on himself. It has nothing at all to do with Tim, other than the fact that Tim was pushing him to live when he wanted to die.

Tim had saved Bruce’s life, maybe in more ways than he would ever know, but he had not been wanted, only needed. Even once that had changed, Bruce’s behaviors hadn’t, not significantly. For all the deception his life depended on, he wasn’t sure how to fix this disconnect between behavior and emotion.

Ain't that always the way.

There had been no tears, no outbursts, no nightmares like the ones that had rousted Bruce from bed to pace the halls and Dick to cross his path in the glow of the open fridge.

Readers during Shoulder to Shoulder had noted the implication that being at a funeral would affect both Bruce and Dick, as people with past trauma involving death and funerals. Here's the payoff. Tim's mom died and Bruce and Dick are the ones who can't sleep.

He had only crossed paths with Jack Drake once or twice before, despite being neighbors, and remembered little about the man other than a vague sheen of dislike, like a thin film of oil floating above the water of his impression.

I like that line. Sometimes that's just how it is. There's no real mass, no substance to a dislike. A person just leaves a bad aftertaste.

He had reminded Bruce too much of other little boys, too much of himself, too much of Tim himself the first and only time Bruce had raised his voice outside the cowl.

I don't know why I wrote that. My guess is that I figured Bruce couldn't have yelled at Tim too much before this point or he wouldn't have reacted to strongly to Tim's reaction, but wow I really painted myself into a corner there. Bad Mental Health Bruce only yelled at Tim once???

And maybe if Tim had needed him still in the days to follow, that would have made things easier and given Bruce a template to follow. Instead, Tim was fine and Bruce was the one floundering.

me @ me: o o f

“I’m sorry you’re dead. Which is a-a dumb thing to say, I know, but... You were really important to Bruce. Even if no one said so, you can tell, by the way he doesn’t talk about it. And he’s old now. I mean, an adult and everything, but he’s still upset about it. Which is how it should be, right?”

I am perpetually fascinated with Bruce's grief, especially how it might be perceived by and affect those around him. It's often portrayed as this nostalgic, static thing—an unchanging event from his childhood—rather than a real, living, ongoing thing that affects his day to day life. Tim knows better.

“I’m upset you’re dead,” Tim was saying, “because you seem like good people, and because it hurt Bruce when you went away. And I’ve never even met you. So... so shouldn’t I be upset about my mom, too?”

IIRC, that first bit was one of the sentences I was writing toward, one of the reasons I put Tim out here in the snow at all. He needed someone to talk to and no way was he confessing any of this to people who might think less of him.

"But I was surprised, because they said she must’ve been on her way home, and I hadn’t even known she was coming back.”

Another sentence I remember being determined to fit in, since it fit in well with his previous sentiment in Carried.

“Alfred installed these. They’re really buried in Gotham Cemetery, but I wanted a way to talk to them every day, so...”

Oh I fussed so much about figuring out the logistics for the Waynes. You can't just bury people on private property! But I wanted them there! Thinking through why and how there might be a replica of a gravesite on the grounds was a useful exercise, though.

That seemed a long time ago, the days when he felt bursting with things to say. Bruce could still remembering the tight, burning sensation in his chest, like if he didn’t get all the emotions out, he would go to pieces, but it was like remembering something that happened to another person. He still had the emotions, still had the blaze beneath his breastbone, but the words had slipped away entirely.

I was pretty deep into Nature and Nurture by the time I wrote this fic, so clearly Bruce's psyche and communication skills remain Of Interest. I just love the idea of some parts of Bruce being a consistent throughline while others that non-Alfred people might think of as a core piece of his identity are actually a result of trauma.

Bruce pointed to the chipped arm of his mother’s cross. “I did that. I was... I don’t know how old. I don’t even really remember why. I just remember being angry. Angry at them for not being here, angry for leaving me with two hunks of rock that didn’t talk back. Angry at myself for being angry.”

I had to pull these details back up for a later fic and work around them/incorporate them into The Rain Again, when Bruce gets angry again.

The words came slowly, as they always did, but Bruce had learned by now to speak at a measured pace to make them seem as deliberate as they were, if less hard-won.

I was reading some book at the time that uses this framing for a character's speech and I wish I could remember what it was, because it makes sense.

“You were missed,” Bruce finally answered

I loved knowing that that's where this fic was headed, in the end. It made me feel so warm and cozy.

[hauntedjpegcollection]

delicate

wc: 9511 au: college au ch: benny, maran, xavier, benji

He’s self conscious in the bathroom, staring at himself. Runs a hand back and forth over his jawline—newly soft and somewhat sensitive. It’s been…well. It’s been a long time since Benny has shaved all his scruff away. The former Air Force technician was shockingly trim about it, considering his appearance looked so slimy and lazy on the every day to day. He liked it like that—never wanted anyone to think he put time or effort into his appearance. Even though he did. Even though his hair was constantly greasy because he was always fucking with it, always running an embarrassed hand back through the pale mop.

Benny likes having facial hair and grooms often. It feels like another layer, another puzzle piece to his fucked up appearance that gave people the wrong (or right) impression. He runs his hand over his jaw again. It’s bareness feels cold and foreign. He had decided to shave not necessarily on a whim, but because he was attending a conference soon. A major one. Where he’d actually be speaking. And Benny…

It was hard enough to get people to listen through the stutter.

Sometimes, he thought if he looked like Xavier people wouldn’t mind it. Wouldn’t even notice. Maybe they’d find it endearing; that big wolfy smile and handsome features, freckled cheeks and green eyes. But instead, he looks like…Benny. Tattooed, disheveled. Crooked teeth, eye bags, ugly. Stutter. Benny. There had been a small semblance of control in the decision to make himself look more, what? Professional? Clean? That’s what he’d thought when he’d started, anyway.

Now Benny looks in the mirror as his pale, bare face and lets his head drop. Tattooed hands hold onto the ceramic sink while he looks at the pale fuzzy hairs he’ll have to clean away.

—

Benny manages to avoid Xavier and Lark easily enough.

His room is the only one in the apartment that has a connected bathroom (sole perk of being the guy navigating the somewhat illegal housing). He can hide easily. Mope in his bed, regret his life choices, sip from his flask and ignore the ever present academic calendar that is burned inside his skull.

But he cannot avoid Maran. And he wouldn’t want too anyway, but there’s not much of a choice when the man bursts into his bedroom later that day. A literal burst too, with him. Always is some sort of explosion of movement and excitement when it comes to Maran. Benny likes that. Usually. The door knob hits the wall and he spins quickly to say “sorry” to the inanimate object before turning back to Benny.

“Xavier and I sent in something to this cereal company like four months ago—and they finally sent us back the decoding ring for—”

As Maran gets closer to the bed, he stops talking. The sentence dies midway on his tongue, jaw becoming slack. He stands at the edge of the mattress, staring down at Benny, who looks up with flag eyes. He’d shoved his way into a nicely sized sweatshirt, hood up, even though that couldn’t really hide his new shameful mistake. His blond hair peeks out in little wisps. Slowly, and with a heavy groan, Benny hefts himself off the bed. He pushes past Maran with his shoulder to close the door. Probably a little harder than he needs to.

And then when he turns, Maran is much closer than he expects. Makes Benny jump, hands shooting up to curl around his boyfriend’s biceps.

“Fuckin—shit, Maran—you s-scared me, God damn,” he rambles, thumbs brushing back and forth over the attractive swell of defined biceps. Maran’s in one of those silly graphic t-shirts that has the Japanese lettering of a video game across the chest. It’s been run through the wash too many times, so the yellow is faded to a nice, pastel butter color. It hangs a bit loose, the collar yolked a little (perhaps from Benny’s own hand, if he spares a thought to it).

He looks so pretty in these shades, Benny thinks, eyes dropping to the safety of his chest. And he’s so warm. He’s so warm all the time. Little ray of sunshine. Fucker.

He jumps again—this time, it’s traitorously closer to a flinch—when Maran’s fingers brush over his newly bare jawline. Those fingers drop like they might have bothered and Benny’s quick, nasty insecurity causes his cheeks to warm. They turn a painful, embarrassing red. He rolls his eyes and snorts, pushes himself past Maran again to throw himself back onto the bed. On his stomach, face to the pillow. He can practically feel the slow crawl of the blush to his ears.

Only, Benny is surprised for the third time when the heavy weighted sensation of his boyfriend settles over him. Maran never lacks a want for physical attention—when they’re together, it’s almost rare that they’re not touching. Even simply. Sitting together, a leg thrown over one another’s lap. Out with their ever expanding friend group, an arm slung around shoulders or a waist. Benny likes to be touching Maran so people know (he needs people to know). And he figures Maran likes being touched.

But now, warm hands are sliding under his sweatshirt and tucking around Benny’s waist and it’s him being touched. Him being held.

It makes Benny’s face hotter. The bite of embarrassment ebbs to a more pressing tug of arousal, right where he has that silly spider tattoo. It makes his stomach tense and his breath come out in a short, annoyed huff. Sometimes, he feels like he is too easy in Maran’s hands—but it feels nice. It feels so earnestly nice to be touched so simply and brought to a simmer so quickly. He scrubs his hand back to shove the hood down from his head. Blond hair springs up in a messy fashion, limp and buoyant at the same time. He tilts his chin just slightly over his shoulder, not really seeing Maran so much as sensing his presence right there.

“You g-going to tell me about th-the cereal toy?”

“You shaved,” Maran says, his voice shockingly low and spoken directly to the shell of Benny’s ear. The arousal slips back to icy humiliation and the sudden change makes him anxious and even further annoyed. He pulls such a classic Maran move—begins wriggling on the bed incessantly, shoving his way onto his back—includes a few exaggerative huffs and groans and sighs. Then he’s on his back and Maran is still on top of him, rested prone, their whole bodies lined up. Hands have gone from his waist to his shoulders—and he’d like to focus on those hands, honestly.

Because Maran has nice hands. He has freckles on his knuckles. He has long, deft fingers, but broad palms. They’re not as rough as Benny’s, but they’re not delicately soft either. They’re warm and comforting and familiar. Benny’s entire existence would often narrow right down to wherever those hands are touching him—but Maran is staring, with such darkly lidded eyes it makes his stomach flood with feeling again. The whiplash aggravates him, sours him to moodiness. He glowers up at his boyfriend, his blue eyes thin slits.

“Don’t.”

“Ben,” Maran sighs his name out and the heat crawls from his lower stomach down his thighs. It travels up his sternum. To his throat, to under his jaw, where his teeth clench together. “You look pretty.”

His narrowed eyes pop unexpectedly wide. The blush darkens the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his ears, his throat. Benny refuses to think of this as a compliment; it has to be condescending or patronizing. It has to be unkind in some way, a rude little dig. It has to be mean, because he’s never genuinely been called pretty in his fucking life. And even if he had, he’s not sure what feeling to associate with such a compliment. He blinks nervously, his hands anxiously looking for a place to sit. They don’t go anywhere but hover by his sides.

Maran isn’t mean. Sometimes, that almost sets Benny on edge, because he doesn’t understand a world that doesn’t operate on some level of cruelty.

“Stop fucking with me,” he mumbles, but all the ice and edge from his voice is gone and instead, it truly is just a soft and nearly whispered plea. Maran leans in. He’s smiling his pretty smile—just enough of a split to his lips to show teeth, to put dimples in his cheeks. Benny doesn’t understand how that compliment could apply to both of them. Maran is pretty—Maran is so gorgeous sometimes it feels too good to be true. Benny shifts more, his frustration clear, but his hands finally settle around Maran’s hips.

They kiss and it’s soft and sweet to start. A simple press of their mouths together, arms winding around each other to get closer. Benny feels Maran’s leg pressing between his own, their hips aligned and the friction between them hot. Their mouths open into the kiss, tongues meeting and the kiss somehow stays soft despite that. It’s slow and building until they’re rolling on the bed, kissing but also touching, appreciative gropes along biceps and thighs and sides and shoulders. The kissing makes them breathe harder, makes their chests heave together. The blankets on Benny’s bed get tangled around them.

And Maran starts to move his kisses lower. His mouth brushes Benny’s jawline and then his throat, leaving a trail of compliments and warmth. His sweatshirt is pushed up to expose pale, tattooed skin, Benny’s stomach flexing under the soft touch of finger pads over his ribs and sides and hips. Maran kisses his sternum, brushes his tongue around a pert nipple and makes Benny inhale sharply. His hand grips behind Maran’s neck, squeezing hard and eliciting a moan that could have been from either of them.

A series of loud knocks to the door makes them both jump. Maran’s hand lands on his stomach, resulting in a loud wheeze from Benny and a hurried apology and then Xavier is yelling loudly—

“You guys coming to trivia night?”

His skin feels flushed icy where air met the trail Maran’s tongue was making down his body. The freckled palm over his pectoral is radiating a heat that sinks into the very core of him. Benny twists until he’s braced on his elbows—for a moment, a knee is grinding against him and making him snap teeth on his lip. Xavier has better hearing that he lets on, and he’s always mopey when he remembers Benny and Maran do more than just stand around each other, holding hands.

There’s another tentative knock.

“Yeah,” Benny yells out. “Yeah, sure, wh-whatever, we’re coming.”

“We are?” Maran asks, surprised. His hand is still curled around Benny’s chest appreciatively. He smiles without shame, a dopey slant to him when Benny raises an eyebrow down at it.

“I sh-shouldn’t keep you locked in my room all night,” Benny says, pushing up further. Maran becomes leaden, looks like he might argue, big and pouty like. But I like being locked up, Benny can imagine him saying in that breathy, flirtatious way. That would go straight to his dick and Maran wouldn’t be locked up for just one night. But sometimes Benny feels selfish for the way he’s consistently dodging social gatherings, trapping Maran in his pale, spindly hands and keeping him from everyone else.

So instead he manages to get himself out from under Maran, who sprawls back on the bed in a bratty way, arms crossed over his chest. It makes him snicker as he crosses to the door and yanks it open to stare at Xavier—who stares back, with big, surprised eyes.

“What?”

“Did you shave?”

Benny slams the door shut.

—

Xavier does so well at trivia, Benny starts to think their group is going to be disqualified.

It turns out to be unnecessary, because Benji shows up a third of the way through. Then Xavier seems unable to figure out the answers to anything, his eyes continually wandering to Maran’s best friend and then lower, to the black jeans he’s wearing. More so the rips in the knees and the particularly large one at the inner thigh that Benji either hasn’t noticed, or doesn’t really care that much to hide. He looks exhausted, constantly plucks his glasses off to rub at his eyes and soon, Xavier completely loses the lead and then drops out entirely.

So then it just becomes their friend group at an over crowded bar—which Benny is only fine with if he’s had more than a few beers.

“I didn’t know Xavier liked geography like that,” Maran comments, sucking the small straw in his drink. It comes up mostly dry, so he fishes at the ice and crunches it between his teeth.

“Do you wa-want another one of those?” Benny asks, chin to Maran’s shoulder, finger pointed to the fruity drink he’d picked up as a favorite from Matilda. She sits in the corner of the bar with Lark, the two of them with their heads bent together sharing headphones so they don’t have to endure the bar music. Sometimes she smiles in a way that is unguarded and meant just for Lark, who moves closer as if he knows that and doesn’t want a single other person seeing it.

“Depends. Want me to drive us home?”

Benny snorts, presses a kiss to Maran’s temple and then lower to his cheek and then bends himself around to steal a kiss on the mouth as well. I love you for that, Benny wishes he could say. I love you. Instead he tilts Maran with a hand around his throat for an even deeper, messier kiss as a way to say yes, please and thank you, instead of what he really wants.

“Jesus, let him breathe.” Xavier’s moody voice makes Benny finally unwind from Maran, who sucks in a gasp of air, which only encourages Xavier’s stormy glare. He’s wandered back from wherever he and Benji had just been—likely a cigarette, shared between them outside away from noise and people as is some sort of tradition for them. Benji trails after, looking considerably less tired, as if Xavier was a little battery pack he slides into his social meter whenever he’s forced from his apartment. Or Xavier’s bedroom.

Seems to be where they mostly spend all their time, not even fucking.

“Maran’s DD’ing fo-for me tonight, just showing him some appreciation,” Benny purrs, massaging hands on his boyfriends shoulders.

“Maran?” Benji snorts, brows furrowing. “He doesn’t—Yeow!”

“Xavier probably wants a beer!” Maran says, standing from his side of the table to crowd near Benji, who rubs furiously at his shin.

“Oh, dude, how did you know?” Xavier asks, face splitting into a grin even as he bends slightly to watch Benji rub at his leg.

“I’ll be back.” Benny takes the garish pink zip up that Maran had been wearing and yanks it on. It’s not his color, but it makes Maran’s eyes go slightly shiny, his grin falter into something more lusty than affectionate. All for some Kirby sweatshirt he’s had his whole life, holes nearly forming in the elbows. Benny gives his own lewd grin back, throwing a vulgar gesture at Benji who returns it with a sneer and a jerking hand at his hip.

—

Benny stands at an opening in the bar, phone illuminated in his hand until the bartender will notice him. He’s in no rush, unlike the gaggle of girls beside him who keep huffing at their lack of attention, adjusting straps on their shoulders and discussing the merits of Donna Tartt and Celeste Ng. It’s a funny conversation to be privy too, because Benny has an e-reading app open on his phone.

Nomi had showed him because he’d bristled at the idea of anything connected to Amazon and Jeff fucking Bezos; but this was something different and didn’t even require payment. She’d also downloaded PDF’s of almost every book he’d sent her on a list and walked him through putting them on. Benny was half convinced she was guilty for what he figured was a very obvious crush on Maran; and he was also convincing himself that the free books were the reason Nomi’s crush on his boyfriend didn’t bother him.

He flicks a flinger to get to the next page, chewing absently on the string of Maran’s hoodie. He’s read this one before, but it’s comforting to know what’s going to happen next; the fallen son of an Imperial Galactic Archon, forced onto the streets and then into the gladiator’s ring. He flicks his finger again, hip cocked on the bar, wondering if the frazzled woman behind it will ever get to him, or if Xavier will forever be stuck with a low grade buzz that fizzles out because he’s mooning over Benji again.

“Hi.”

The main character wins all his fights, of course. He’s the son of an Archon. He’s trained with Legionnaires his entire life; everyone both hates and reveres him and his life is lonely because of it. He saves a mans life during the games and that man becomes his best friend…

“Hi?”

“What?” Benny looks up with a frustrated line between his brows. A stranger has squeezed himself in beside the girls, putting him far too close. He’s an inch or two shorter than Benny, but stands in a way that suggests he doesn’t think so. Back straight, shoulders in an even line. He holds a totally full beer almost like it’s a prop. Benny blinks at it. Ironically the brand that Xavier was drinking.

“I asked what you’re reading,” the stranger says, leaning closer so Benny can hear him better over the music that follows trivia. He frowns harder, tilting his phone slightly so the man can’t see his screen anymore. “Oh, sorry. I’ve just never seen anyone reading at a bar before.”

Benny gestures with his chin to the girls and says, “Th-they’re talking about Octavia Butler right now.”

The man glances behind him, as if suddenly aware of the proximity when their backs must be bumping together every few minutes. At least the girls have finally gotten their drinks. No sign of the bartender. Sorry, Xavier. Benny goes back to looking at his phone, eyes scanning quickly to find the sentence he’d left off on.

“Right, but—I—uh, well. I’m more interested in what you’re reading, that’s all.”

“Why?” Benny glances back up with a suspicious sneer. He’s not drunk enough to deal with people right now. He’s not even buzzed, he’d only had a few beers and it was spaced out over agonizing questions pulled from a mock Jeopardy website. The pretzels and pub cheese had all but sobered him up. And if Maran was willing to drive, he’d liked to at least have a few more beers—and why the fuck was this guy talking to him at all?

“I could buy you a drink,” the stranger says, giving him a wide and charming smile. “In exchange.”

Only then does it click that he’s being flirted with. At a bar. Someone’s trying to pick him up at a bar by asking what he’s reading and offering to buy him a drink. Benny’s face loses its nasty expression, going blank because he’s so genuinely startled. He can’t really remember the last time a man approached him like this—he’s certainly never gotten anything as innocent as what are you reading?

Maran’s pink sweatshirt must make him look so much more disarming than usual. His tattoos mostly covered. Bare face placing him closer to twenty one than twenty six. All he manages are a few blinks at the hopeful expression staring back at him.

Then arms are winding around him from behind. Benny would have flinched at the sudden contact if the brown hands lacing themselves across his stomach weren’t so obviously Maran’s. He’s tugged back, breath leaving him in a rush as he connects with a solid, delightfully warm chest.

“What’s taking so long?” Maran’s breath whispers against his ear, turning his legs utterly boneless. Benny doesn’t answer, because he finds it hard to think, a shiver running from the nape of his neck down. One of Maran’s hands has flattened and runs suggestively down the front of his thigh to stick possessively into his pocket, the other still splayed across his lower belly. The spread of Maran’s fingertips highlights how broad his hand is, covering so much space.

Benny blinks rapidly, still standing there holding his phone up as if he might read another chapter.

The man in front of him goes terribly red. He mutters something awkward and quickly leaves (the girl behind him sighing in relief to be able to take up more space for their late night bar book club).

Maran slinks his way forward, transferring hands to Benny’s shoulders until his hands turn to arms resting instead, fingers toying with lanky blond hair at the nape of his neck. His expression is smugly mischievous, eyes hooded and lips tilted with rakish pride. He seems, if possible, even more beautiful in that moment, under dim amber bar lightning, with his freckles and his proud smile and his possessive, shining eyes. Benny finally puts his phone away, coming back to himself in time for the bartender to slide up and ask him what he’d like to order.

“Nothing,” Benny replies, yanking Maran’s hand and dragging him toward the exit of the bar.

—

“Did I do something wrong?” Maran’s playful voice indicates he thinks the opposite, but he’s asking because he loves the attention (and he gets that attention, that sole attention, very frequently, especially if he lilts his voice just like that).

“Did I do something wrong,” Benny sneers in a mock annoyance as he continues tugging the other man through the parking lot. He scans the area, finds it mostly packed with vehicles but otherwise empty of people besides the two of them. Just the way he likes it; alone with Maran, the way the night would have gone without the trivia. Gravel crunches underneath their feet and the farther they get, the softer the noisy bar becomes. “Dr-drive me fucking insane sometimes, Maran.”

He finds Xavier’s massive beast of a truck at the far end of the lot where light is only just touching, red, rusty and ugly. Finally, he shoves Maran behind it.

“This isn’t your car,” he notes curiously, patting Xavier’s truck as if it’s a familiar animal companion. Benny reaches out and yanks the truck’s door open, finding it thankfully unlocked. Maran stares at him with big, pretty, utterly confused eyes. The look makes arousal swell in Benny’s lower stomach, fine pin prick needles of heat between his hips—no one should look so devastatingly sexy when they have no idea what’s going on.

“No,” Benny steps closer, pressing himself to Maran, who connects with the side of the truck with a soft exhale. Because they’re the same height, everything lines up perfectly. And the way his expression lights up, Maran must feel the hardness against his hip, from Benny, whose been turned on since that first touch around his middle in the bar. “Easier to hide behind. Just in case we get caught.”

“Caught?”

“Caught.” Benny’s hands slip underneath Maran’s flimsy graphic t-shirt. It’s cotton soft and worn thin from age, the design on the front nearly faded. It’s dark navy and Benny is still wearing that silly pink sweatshirt, the colors clashing as his hands sink further, cup warm ribs, thumbs running across skin appreciatively. He feels the shiver on Maran’s skin, the dance and flex of his muscles. He’s so soft it should be illegal, inviting teeth and nails to leave marks on him.

“Oh. Oh.” Maran’s smile goes crooked and pleased, his own hands lifting to touch Benny’s shoulders. He curls fingers into the soft pink fabric, tugging at it playfully. His cheeks have flushed with color that Benny can barely see, with how dark it is back where he’s found them a slice of privacy.

They crash together to kiss and it’s not gentle; Benny’s near angry with it, thinking about those warm arms around him, the possessive touch across his lower stomach. Maran is panting by the time Benny’s mouth moves to his throat, his hands jerking at the novel pink sweatshirt. All the while, Benny’s own palms are moving south, groping Maran’s waist and hips and then he finally pulls back. His chest heaves as his knuckles brush across the Maran’s zipper and those beautiful, brown eyes fall down to stare at them.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Benny says decisively, lowering himself to his knees. The gravel crunches underneath them painfully, but he finds it easy to ignore, staring up at Maran, whose mouth has formed a cute little ‘O’ shape. Benny’s own mouth pools with saliva, desire and something furious mingling inside him.

“Out here?” Maran’s voice is stretched thin, breathy from the kissing. Benny responds by popping the button on Maran’s jeans. They’ve tented with an obvious erection and the other man shifts back and forth, either from nerves or because he’s desperate for some sort of friction there. It never ceases to satisfy Benny how quickly Maran can get hard just by kissing. Just by feeling their bodies together, tongues touching, breathy panting against each others mouths.

Benny leans back, the gravel making his knees and shins prick with more pain. He runs hands slow and firm up and down Maran’s thighs, but gets no closer than that. He tilts his head, strands of pale hair falling and framing his cheekbones. He stares up at Maran with an almost bashful expression. His lips tug into a sweeter sort of smile, something wanting and dripping with desire.

“Please?”

“Hah—fuck, Ben—wasn’t going to say no, swear it—but,” Maran’s hands look almost shaky as they cup Benny’s cheeks, tilting his face up further. His thumbs brush a clean shaven jaw appreciatively, like the novelty hasn’t worn off. Benny could get used to shaving if it scrambled Maran’s brain this badly. “Can you say that again?”

His lip curls in satisfaction, eyes narrowing to mean slits.

“Please, Maran,” Benny says, leaning forward to flatten his tongue against the exposed brown skin of a hip bone. “I want it so bad.”

“Oh!” Maran’s head crashes back against the truck, that vowel pulled long and hard. One of his hands lifts from Benny’s face to shove at his shirt, to raise it, to expose more of his beautiful torso. It’s such an erotic image, Maran standing there, pulling at his shirt, his jeans unbuttoned and straining with an erection. Benny feels inspired by it, by the filth of it all, like a scene from a clip on a website that gives your laptop viruses. He laughs and the feel of his breath makes Maran’s skin dance—and then his tongue points and drags, tasting as much as he can.

It becomes something hurried and languid all at the same time. Benny’s hands are frantic as they tug at Maran’s jeans, yanking them to mid thigh, but his kisses stay hungry and slow across his stomach. One of Maran’s hands fists into blond hair, then pets apologetically, then twitches into a harder grip when Benny requests it (whispers it, longingly, hold me harder, to Maran’s smooth skin). His shirt keeps slipping and theres a desperate energy about the way he continues to hike it up, like he wants nothing more than the best view of Benny—

Benny as he pulls Maran free of his boxers and Benny as he runs an appreciate and hungry tongue from base to tip and Benny spitting into his hand just to make it messier and then Benny laughing against a warm, hard cock when it makes Maran’s dark eyes dilate harder in the near full dark of the parking lot.

“I love these,” Benny murmurs, pressing kisses to freckles that dot Maran’s shaft.

“No, they’re—” Maran’s voice cuts off in a strangled way when those kisses turn more open mouth. Unhurried in their unabashed appreciation. His head shakes back and forth, his hand still desperately keeping up his shirt. “They’re weird, Ben.”

“They’re sexy,” he argues, shuffling closer. The sound of gravel is almost louder than Maran’s sharp, incessant inhales. He’s feverishly hot, hips gyrating forward, his other hand still firm in Benny’s hair.

Maran holds in moan after moan, when Benny begins in earnest. He’s always preferred other methods of getting men off; he likes hand jobs, rubbing messily together in bed, reliable mutual masturbation, just sex usually. It’s not that he isn’t good with his mouth—by the sounds Maran’s holding in and the way he throbs on his tongue and his one leg keeps twitching, Benny figures he’s doing a very good job.

But its so intimate, in a way that he’s not usually good at. No bad experiences cloud his feelings for it; it isn’t the vulnerability that he necessarily avoids. But it’s different—feeling Maran in his mouth is different. Tasting him like this, sucking appreciatively, running his tongue in happy circles, memorizing the way Maran jerks or sucks in a breath or bites off a whimper when pressure or hand placement or tongue placement changes. Benny becomes greedy for all those differences, all the ways Maran is wholly his in that moment.

He pulls away panting, hand jerking a steady and needy rhythm. Maran’s cock is slick with his spit, with pre-cum, is shiny at the tip in a delicious sort of way. Benny almost leans back in, but he pauses, eyes watery at he stares up.

“Next time,” he pants. “On my face. Next time.”

“Ben.”

“Right, but probably easier if you do it in my mouth this time. We’re in a parking lot, you know.”

“I know—I know we’re in a parking lot—can you—tighter.” Maran’s voice cracks around the word and Benny complies with a fist at the base of Maran’s cock, his mouth quickly swallowing down the rest of him. Maran’s hand cups the back of his head, fingers scrabbling desperately. His whole body jerks, once and then twice and he throbs harder on Benny’s tongue which is suddenly coated in all that Maran flavor.

He’s greedy for it, swallowing even as his messy hand darts down to the front of his own jeans.

When he pulls away, lips sore, he rests his forehead to Maran’s stomach. He’s unkind to himself, jerking a painful erection quickly. The orgasm builds up agonizingly behind his lower stomach, making him whimper-moan into Maran’s skin and then two hands are cupping his head and tilting it and he’s being looked at as he finally cums onto the gravel in front of him. Benny hadn’t even really been thinking when he’d fumbled himself out of his jeans like that; he’d just needed some sort of relief, it’d been so good.

They look at each other, the breathes heavy and loud. Benny’s hand becomes even more filthy, but Maran doesn’t seem to care when he bends and starts jerking him upward. They collide together once more, against Xavier’s shitty truck and kiss again. They laugh between the kisses, adrenaline from their obscene public affair draining and making them insane. Benny gets his fill of Maran’s tongue, the taste of his cum and his spit more intoxicating than alcohol. And he shivers head to toe when between each kiss, each messy, tongue filled kiss, Maran is saying I love you, oh fuck, I love you, Ben.

And then between that sweetness, he finally withdraws to pant, “Where’s your car?”

Benny grins ear to fucking ear.

—

Maran is more nervous about it than Benny expects him to be.

He acquiesces only because a good point is made; they can go back to Benny’s—their usual—but it’s the end of the night and Xavier and Benji will be there soon (because there’s rarely a night ended that Benji returns to his own apartment if Xavier’s sexless bed is an option). If Lark isn’t home, he’s guaranteed to be soon, crawling in late with Matilda trying to hold in her laughs—unsuccessfully enough that she’s probably not holding them in that much. The entire apartment is overly large considering the under the table price for it, but not so large that the walls aren’t too thin. That they might get interrupted, because Xavier pouts for Maran’s attention.

So they end up at Benji’s. At Maran’s—sort of.

He stands with arms awkwardly crossed over his chest, hovering in the door frame to his own room as Benny takes it in.

It’s a strange reminder that Maran was never meant to be a permanent fixture here in America. He was visiting for fun, for the Summer, to be with Benji as he drags himself toward the finishing lines of his semester. Maran’s room is as temporary as he was supposed to be, with a little corner of the room dedicated to clothes in a foldable mesh dresser. A TV that was clearly either discounted or found out on a curb, with a game station connected to it and a sprawling stack of cases beside it. A collection of two beat up skateboards lean against the wall.

There were plants lined up on the windowsill, a pop of color in an otherwise mostly barren room. They were so lovingly and obviously tended that it made Benny’s heart tumble around in his chest. And the bed wasn’t even a bed at all, but an air mattress that hadn’t lost it’s air just yet. Blankets and pillows were piled atop, as well as a little stuffed creature that Nomi had bought Maran a few weeks ago.

Benny’s heart begins moving again, a rattle inside his rib cage. Such a small place, so undecorated, so unlike Maran didn’t feel right, but he was drawn to the bed none the less. It was like a beacon and Benny goes to his knees and lets his upper body fall into it. Theres the automatic slight give of an air mattress and then Benny scoops the blankets toward himself, rubbing his face into them, sighing loudly. It smells like Maran—something slightly citrus scented and laundry and this boyish sort of smell. Benny inhales, open mouth, groaning into the blankets, sagging until his legs extend behind him, laid out half on the floor.

“It’s not as nice as your room,” Maran says from behind him.

Without looking, Benny hooks a leg around Maran’s ankle and yanks until the mans stumbling into the bed after him. He’s ungraceful about the fall, mostly catching Benny on his shoulder and huffing as he lands. The air mattress gives a a groan, but somehow manages both men in it. Benny tilts his head from the blankets he’s all but buried himself into so he can get a look at Maran, on his side, next to him.

“I wanna st-stay here more often,” Benny says. Maran’s nose crinkles, brows furrowing.

“Why?”

“I think I could sleep for hours here.”

It’s true enough that he closes his eyes and enjoys the warm blankets, the sound of a rattling and possibly dying aircon unit, his own breathing. But a stretch of silence makes him open his eyes and Maran is staring at him. Staring at him in the dark comfort of his modest little temporary room, staring on his side, with a hand slightly lifted like he might lean in and touch. His plush lower lip trembles, his eyes shiny enough that Benny stops just staring as well and leans in.

Their lips find each other, much gentler this time around.

—

Benny hadn’t been lying. He could have dozed right off in that bed, which was a rarity for a man that survived off pure sludgy black coffee and only slept four hours at a time to begin with. Maran’s bed had been inviting, not because it was nice. But because it was Maran’s. He could lay there and envision Maran making a comfortable nest of those blankets, holding that little stuffed animal, dozing off as wind from the window played with the plants. Benny could have slept, just like that.

So instead of fucking in the bed, they’re on the floor.

Because Benny has no interest in sleep just yet and his entire body buzzes with that sort of electric hum that Maran makes him feel. Bone deep and waspy, his whole circulatory system running on adrenaline and hunger and desire.

He’s on top of Maran, who lays on the floor, knees spread on either side of his hips, forehead brushing against the man’s chest. His hands fist against the floor underneath him, low moans pouring from his mouth. Maran’s hand remains busy, fingers even more busy, lubed as they are and between Benny’s thighs, the other hand running appreciative and never ending paths across Benny’s side and stomach and chest. He breathes just as hard, as if he’s the one being teased and that puff of air tickles Benny’s cheek as he slides himself forward. He shoves his face into the crook of Maran’s neck, eyes twisted shut.

“Is it good?” Maran asks in a hoarse voice and the question seems so ludicrous when pleasure keeps making Benny’s thighs twitch. When he’s dripping precum onto Maran’s pretty, brown stomach.

It’s the enthusiasm, he thinks, more than any technique. It’s the fact that Maran’s wrist never seems to tire, that every once in a while, their erections brush together and make it even better. It’s the way Maran keeps experimenting with a new twist or a shy addition of a another finger. It’s the position, on the floor like this, Maran underneath him. It’s passion, probably, it’s the fact that Maran’s voice sounds like he’s the one being finger fucked, that’s how much he’s enjoying himself.

It’s enough to make Benny straighten angrily and reach for Maran’s hand, pulling it away and then pinning it to the floor beside his head. The slipperiness of it, and the shine on his fingers does something to Benny, something obscene and nasty, as if he isn’t already filthy types of aroused. But it Maran’s blissful smile, the way his eyes have gone glassy and pretty and his chest heaves and the way he looks pinned like that. Just as much spread out as he usually is, when Benny is the one fucking him, but just different.

“I want you.” It comes out more growl than he intends, but the tone has such an effect on the man underneath him, makes him go weak and submissive and even prettier in his desperation.

“Yeah,” Maran breathes out, his free hand touching Benny’s collarbone, sliding down, cupping around his pectoral. His pupils have blown so wide, his eyes are black with desire. His loopy smile dimples his pretty, freckled cheeks. “Yeah, Ben—I—yeah.” His words skip and then go high when Benny’s hand finds his cock, the position awkward to line himself up, the mad scramble to feel him, to be fucked by him making Benny shaky with it.

He likes it like this. Benny likes bottoming and he likes being in charge and he likes looking at Maran, whose smile turns to a pathetic, slackened pleasurable expression at the penetration. His hands go so quick to Benny’s waist that it almost hurts, the way they clench onto him as he grinds hips down lower and fits himself snug. The stretch, the burn, the sudden fullness makes his head go off hinge, fall back and his mouth open as he breathes hard and enjoys himself. Enjoys Maran and his sweet little thrust up.

“Predictable,” Benny groans, head falling forward to watch Maran’s hands creep up his torso, cup once more around his chest. Those brown hands flex and massage and Maran looks satisfied and smug about it particularly when it makes Benny huff out a sound too close to a whimper. His skin feels hypersensitive to the touch.

“You feel so good,” Maran whispers in reply, in a fever pitched voice. His throat is sweat slicked, his cheeks ruddy with splotches of color that make him beautiful. Hands move from Benny’s chest to his sides, then around, cup his ass in a way that encourages more back and forth grinding. Benny falls forward with it, hands on the floor once more. It feels so good it makes spots of color pop in his vision, this never ending friction of heat and Maran. Maran’s hands and his cock and his sweat slick body beneath him and the sounds he keeps trying to hide and the way he holds him even tighter, remembering Benny’s plea for harder from earlier.

They find a vicious sort of rhythm that Benny commands entirely. Their foreheads touch and slide together and Maran stares at him with arousal wet reverent eyes. He pets back sweat slicked blond hair from Benny’s face, attempts to pull them in for a kiss—but Benny claims his hands and shoves them down once more, his mouth a wicked cut of a smile.

“Ben,” Maran protests in a whine. Benny’s hands tighten, to a painful point where bones almost grind that makes Maran gasp and that pain makes his pupils darken once more. His body shivers, hips thrusting in adjustment and nearly making Benny snap his teeth. He’s so close to an edge he’s been dancing toward it for minutes now, just looking at Maran, just feeling him stretch and fill. It became a painful build up, a nervous energy in all his limbs, a tightening in his stomach that felt unbearable.

“Maran.” Benny’s tone makes Maran’s eyes snap wider, his hands clasping back around Benny, shaky with want. He pants, open mouth wet and pretty and kissable. Benny doesn’t kiss him. Instead his hands trail from the floor, to his shoulders, then slink around his throat. He brushes his thumb back and forth, making Maran whimper, making his head fall back, his eyes go needy. His pulse is a wild drum against Benny’s palm. He gives a small, mean squeeze.

“Are you close?”

“Yes—yes—Ben—ah,” Maran seems to forget his penchant for holding back, seems to forget that he usually stuffs a fist to his mouth, or bites his hand, or his lip until his moans die in his throat. In that moment, he’s loud, he’s nearly crying it out, his back briefly arching off the floor, his hands grabbing harder. Benny might even have bruises. He wants bruises. He wants to bruise. The rhythm that was already a brutal, fast, mean thing gets harder and so does Benny.

His grip tightens. And tightens. And he leans himself down until Maran has to accommodate by lifting his hips up, by thrusting up, to keep them going, forced into giving Benny more and more and what he wants.

“Cum in me?” It’s a question but not a request, but Benny makes it sound sort of sweet, even as his hands are tightening more. Maran’s eyes are watery to the point of tears, collecting and rolling down into the wispy hair at his temples. It’s not even a request, though his voice is lilted as if it is, as if he’s asking—its a demand and Maran knows it, can see and feel it, in the way Benny’s hands go meaner. Just the way Maran wants it, the way he used to try and angle for it, before he even really knew he liked it like that.

The vision of Maran bearing his throat for the first time, bashfully whispering for Benny to grab him there, as tight as he could, threatens to undo him entirely.

And then it’s Maran’s arms winding around his middle and their bodies jerking together, the slap of their skin and the sounds Maran makes as he cums and he’s choked at the same time that really make Benny come undone. Warmth spills inside him, Maran’s body a searing furnace underneath him and palms drag across his back, leaving angry scratches that he’s going to love the next day.

Benny’s own orgasm makes him shiver, hunched over, legs painfully sore. His temple brushes Maran’s, his cum a thick pool across his boyfriend’s torso. He shakes with the aftershocks of sensation that jolt his limbs. He feels drained and blissful and not altogether present, his mind fuzzy at the corners. His hands feel painful as they unlock from around Maran’s beautiful throat. His stomach muscles pulse, his chest heaves; he’s so spent for a moment, he can only lay there.

Then he raises and regrets it.

Maran looks the more fucked of the two of them. He lays there, hands trembling on Maran’s thighs. His expression is slack, his wet eyelashes fluttering as another tear trails down his cheek. Maran licks his lips slowly, coming to himself just enough to smile at Benny. His hand brushes from a pale, tattooed thigh to the cum on his stomach and then—in a gesture so devastatingly disgusting and erotic and somehow cut—he rubs it into his skin. Rubs it into his fucking nipple, his debauched face sweet and pleased.

Benny can’t find his voice—Maran’s fucked it out of him—so he jerks forward and captures him in a kiss.

He wants more somehow. More than either of them can give, but he wants it. He wants Maran to cum in his mouth so he can kiss him, so they can trade spit and semen and nastiness. He wants them to slide together, tacky and sticky and disgusting. He wants to fuck Maran till he’s crying, he wants Maran to do the same for him. He wants him in ways that don’t feel good and pure, he wants to be obscene and vulgar, he wants them fucking in public, in bathrooms, behind bars. He wants to bite and leave marks and kiss and fuck, fuck and fuck and he wants, the entire time for Maran to be whispering exactly what he whispers then.

I love you, Ben, I love you, that felt so good, it feels so good with you, I love you. I love you.

They kiss until breathing becomes difficult and then Benny has to pull away and hold Maran’s cheeks and spread those kisses to other places while Maran’s laughs in a dry, raspy way. He’ll wear the proof of Ben in a series of bruises around his throat that neither of them will figure out how to cover from their friends.

—

They do end up in the bed. The air mattress, that is. After a shower that they spend far too long in, even after the water starts to go tepid instead of hot. They crawl onto the mattress together, pillows and blankets being rearranged. Benny, who feels greedy, lays on Maran, head to his chest. He lays there, listening to his heart beat, enjoying the dying aircon in the corner of the room. He enjoys the pass of headlights across the wall every now and then, through the flimsy shutter curtains that Maran has pinned up.

Maran’s thumb brushes across his chin, in a soothing repetition. It makes Benny feel close to sleep.

“It’s growing in already,” Maran comments, his voice still crackly at the edges. Benny lifts his head, blinking drowsily. It makes Maran grab him by the cheeks, hold him still. The tension in Maran’s arms feels oddly familiar; Benny often looks at him and finds him so cute it feels almost necessary to rip him to shreds.

“I’ll sh-shave again in a month or two, if you want,” Benny sneers, tilting into the palm on his cheek. He closes his eyes, enjoys the affectionate petting. Sometimes, he feels spoiled by Maran, who never seems to shy from touching him, in all these small gentle ways. He could get used to it—fuck, maybe he is used to it.

“You just…” Benny’s eyes crack open when Maran doesn’t finish the sentence. His teeth indent his lip. His brows are upturned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“What?”

“Oh, Ben, fucking hell,” Maran laughs and even that is edged with a bit of rasp. “You’re just—you’re so cute right now, yeah? Like, it’s unbelievable how cute you look. I mean, look cute all the time, but right now? I’m so in love with you.”

“Fuck off,” Benny laughs, snapping teeth at the hand on his cheek, his face burning hotter and hotter. It doesn’t deter Maran, not even a little, who yanks him upward, closer. And they fall asleep cocooned like that, their faces nearly pressed together, Benny’s wet hair leaving a spot on the pillow.

—

The night doesn’t end there for Benny, because he wakes up with a cramp in his leg so painful it makes him gasp. Sits straight up on the air mattress, a hand landing in Maran’s stomach and making him ‘oof’ and roll onto his side, mumbling. He rubs jerky hands down his calf, swearing to stretch more the next time he decides to fucking power bottom. Maran makes pawing motions at him, half asking if he’s alright in the sweetest, sleepiest voice.

Benny responds by taking Maran by the face and kissing him, darting his tongue into the other mans mouth and eliciting a laugh. It doesn’t even fully wake Maran, who snuggles back into the blankets, sighing out to himself as he blindly searches for the stuffed animal (a creature that Benny genuinely cannot decipher) that was gifted to him.

He finds Maran’s shorts before he finds his own and jerks them on. Benny yawns into his fist as he leaves the room, remembering the apartment itself to be rather small. He’ll scrounge for a small bite and drink some water until his leg stops twitching and then crawl back into bed and sleep with his nose pressed under Maran’s arm.

The plan is solid until he closes the door behind him and finds Benji sitting on his dilapidated, run down couch. The television is the only light source and makes him incredibly eerie, his eyes like an owls, staring at him.

There is a moment where neither of them say anything, where the low sound of the tv is the only noise filling the living area. Benny stands there, in nothing but Pokemon printed soft shorts, staring at Benji, who hasn’t changed from the clothes he’d worn out to the bar. Then, for a man who had given a blowjob in a parking lot earlier that day, an odd amount of embarrassment floods his system, making his fingers twitchy and cold.

Benny clears his throat and then jerks a thumb over his shoulder to the bedroom.

“You didn’t hear all that, right?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Benji groans, tossing his head back. He sits in a terrible position, a leg half up, the other sprawled, his shoulders hunched. “No, I didn’t. Christ.” They blink at each other from that, Benny feeling a chill from the entire lack of clothes other than those dumb shorts. He reaches up to scratch idly at his ear and then uses that same hand to point.

“You’ve been hanging out with Xavier too much.”

At mention of the red head, Benji’s expression shutters entirely. It goes carefully blank and then quickly back to it’s usual glare. His brows tilt in, his eyes swinging back to the television, then to the floor, then to his wringing hands in his lap. He seems to notice them doing it and suddenly stops by shoving them underneath his thighs. Benji being here at all strikes Benny as odd—since the entire reason they’d come to this apartment was because Benji usually trailed after Xavier every time. Instead, he was here. And he was looking like…well, that.

Benny contemplates leaving him then and sticking to his original plan. Finding bread or crackers and eating over the sink and then drinking a glass of water and returning to the sweet boy sleeping on an air mattress. Instead he sighs and holds up a palm.

Benji stares at it, confused. Benny doesn’t wait, or explain.

He does return to the boy on the air mattress, but only because when he opens the door, Maran sits up slightly. It’s too dark to see his expression, but he makes a tired gesture and flops back onto the make shift bed. Benny crosses and kneels to kiss him once more. This time, its a real kiss, a gentle one that coaxes Maran to roll back over and hug the stuffed animal to his chest. It’s so fucking cute that Benny grinds his teeth together.

Then he turns, pats across the ground and finds his jeans. And his pack of cigarettes.

—

He’s still wearing those stupid silly shorts as they stand outside and smoke together. He’d shoved his combat boots on, no socks and yanked his hoodie on as well. So he looks ridiculous, but he puts the time closer to four in the morning, so it doesn’t really matter. At this point, no cars roll by to light up Maran’s room, or bother them as they stand.

The atmosphere is unsurprisingly melancholic. Benji stands with a hand in his pocket, the other holding his cigarette, the street light next to his apartment complex flickering here and there. Benny lets the silence linger, because he isn’t entirely sure what to say.

He wants to ask why Benji didn’t go back with Xavier, but the question makes no sense. Everyone knows they spend all their time together. But Benny gets the sensation that neither Xavier or Benji are as acutely aware of that. Instead, they stand there, in their moody silence, smoking cigarettes down to filters and then Benny suggests a second.

“Tryin’ to quit,” Benji says, but doesn’t turn down the second.

“Oh, me too, promise,” Benny says, laying a hand over his chest. Benji snorts, rolls his eyes, lets Benny lean forward and light the cigarette for him. It’s true that one after the other is a little too much for just standing outside, awkward as they are, but Benny—he feels something in his chest sometimes when he looks at Benji. He blames Maran. Of course he blames Maran, who seems to have cracked open his ribs and poked and prodded at his heart until his iron shell started to crinkle like tinfoil. Of course Benny was fucking nicer now because of Maran.

But he also thinks of that tiny room, this spare area for Maran to temporarily be (and Benny doesn’t really like thinking of that too much, shoves that part out) and of Benji, who must have cleared the space for him. Of their friendship, which seems so solid and pure even when they’re bickering and nearly at each others throat, wrestling onto the floor to solve problems.

“Xavier was askin’ where you two went,” Benji says.

“He can keep his greedy fucking hands to hi-himself. Always trying to steal my boyfriend.”

“Knew they’d get along,” Benji says on a rough inhale of his cigarette. He breathes it out through his nose, head tilted slightly away to watch a street cat dart across the pavement. It sinks low to the ground and stares at them, with big, shining eyes, reminding Benny of Benji in the dark apartment.

“Xavier gets along with everyone.”

“Does, doesn’t he?” It’s too soft a statement in Benji’s rough spun voice. It’s so quiet it’s almost lost on the night breeze. He’s staring again, elsewhere and Benny thinks of telling him. Just saying, you know he’s in love with you, you fucking idiot, he’s stupid for you. He thinks about it, but he also isn’t sure there’s a good way to do that. A proper way to do it and Benny, for once, feels incredibly aware and a little more than scared that something delicate hangs in the balance. That Benny should let this one figure itself out, because he knows people putting their hands into Xavier’s business makes him flighty and weird. He thinks Benji might be the same.

So he shoves him the shoulder instead, snickering.

“Oi? Dickhead?”

It makes Benny laugh and so he tosses the half smoked cigarette onto the ground to stomp down. Benji waits for a moment, takes one lass greedy tug and then follows suit. They turn toward the door to the apartment complex. And Benny bumps that same shoulder with his own, hands in his pockets. The both smell like nicotine, but Benny covets that slight orange smell about him, because of Maran.

“He gets along with you best,” Benny says, stomping his way to the front door. There is enough of a delay when he opens the door for Benji’s hand to follow suit and push it wider, that he knows it’s momentarily stopped him in his tracks. Benny lets that be enough said.

[deeptrashwitch]

🕯️

Alicia and her TEAM! I want to know ALL of their THOUGHTS! Let me see inside their MINDS!

Alright >:3 this will be long but let's do it!

Alicia:

Thoughts of Kanoa:

Reminds her a lot to her cousin Elías (that's why they get along so well) but less of a little shit.

A good friend that she trusts with her life.

"...Are you sure we aren't related? We are so similar on attitude that now I'm doubting"

She respects him as an equal and it's admired of how he created the WTF and how he has commanded it with such great eficiency.

"We are not doing a competition" *five seconds later* "oh no! I won, not you!"

"Just do it and we'll figure out this later"

She definitely will cover for him if he needs to.

Will die for him if they ever had that dilemma or if she has to protect him.

"No, you aren't flirting with the objective. Damnit, Noa!"

Thoughts of Tiala:

She considers Tiala as someone brave and talented, which makes her proud of her even if she isn't part if her team.

Felt some sadness when she noticed Tiala's scars the first time, but never said anything...just gave her a medicine she uses for her own scars and is willing to help or hear if she ever wants to talk.

"Mmm, maybe Kanoa will let me adopt her? Or maybe I can convince her or being an Specter too"

"She didn't sleep last night either...I'll make her some tea, maybe it can help"

Respects her and likes her as a little sister, and has invited her (and Kanoa by extention) to pass holidays with her family.

She will get on Tiala's side if she fights with Kanoa (at least most of the time)

Thoughts of Nigel:

"Hmmm, I know him. He was one of Graves' shadows"

It's cautious around him after what happened in Las Almas, at least when they first met.

Once she heards his reasons to be there, and how Kanoa also trusts him, she starts to let her guard down a bit.

Ends up liking his sense of humor and how playful he is.

"He's hiding Elliot's puzzles and pencils...hmm, I hope they don't start a fight just now"

Thoughts of Agnes:

"She is talented but I wanna live, so let's hide her from Wraith"

Is surprised and admired of her talent for explosives managment, and is considering send her and Noah to a mission just to see what happens.

"Did she just exploded a coconut? Heh, nice"

Likes the chaos she does, and sometimes will help her to hide the evidence before Kanoa arrives.

She would ask her to be an Specter if Wraith didn't encourage so much her chaos (more than she already does anyways).

"Wait, Agnes isn't here and Noah either...and Jackson and Aelan still here...ah shit, not this again"

Thoughts of Aelan:

Likes her and respects her just like she respects every medic on the field.

"Did Jackson clone himself...?"

Knows how fucked up are the guards of the medics since she once was a look-out outside the medical tent. So she tries not to give her much work when they visit (and gives her some coffee just like she does with Jackson)

"Ohhh, Noa is so fucked up..."

"This is like a déjà vu, I thought only Jackson would scream at us"

"Someone take the goddamned scalpel from her, she's scaring me"

Thoughts of General Kalani:

Admires her and how much she worries about her people.

She's the only superior Alicia will ever truly respect, and is proud of call her superior.

"So she's Aelan's mother, well that explain some things"

Is always glad to see her and drink something with her.

Also it's happy that the General trusts her team to help the WTF during some missions on the Pacific.

Luke:

Thoughts of Kanoa:

"Ohhh, this will be fun, hehe"

He's the third offspring of absolute chaos and likes Kanoa because he cause as much disaster as Alicia and him.

Will help him to take Alicia's car when the WTF are in Black Tomb.

"If Alicia asks, I didn't help you"

"Who would win in a fight between him and me?" (Kanoa did)

Thoughts of Tiala:

Likes to train with her and sometimes they make some competitions of shooting and more.

He considers her a really capable soldier and a reliable ally, will cover her back and trust her to cover his.

"Don't let her drive when the chaotic ones are on the car"

Sometimes lends her his Civic, and trust her to have a good time driving.

"So she's the one who controls Captain Toa's attitude...maybe a drink will help with the stress of leading with him, huh?"

Has made some bets with her about their Captains, usually she wins it.

Thoughts of Nigel:

"Wasn't he part of Grave's men on Las Almas?"

Untrusful of him, but respects him enough to keep working with him without bring the incident up.

Chats with him but never reveals anything of himself because of his distrust.

Laughs of his jokes and likes it.

"Well, I guess the Captains have their reasons to trust him"

Thoughts of Agnes:

Admired of her talent with explosives and her marvellous memory.

"Not another one...well, meanwhile Alicia don't...aaand she's encouraging her. I need another job"

"Why do you left her alone with Noah?! They almost burned the fucking hangar!"

Thoughts of Aelan:

At first he was surprised to see someone with a similar attitude to Jackson's, and wondered if every medic was like that.

Tried to tease her (once they had more trust between teams) and ended up with a black eye and a metal bowl thrown to him.

"Note to myself: NEVER piss off any combat medic. They'll whoop your ass"

"She's more delicate than Jackson, that's somethi-AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

After a visit to the medic bay, to get a tetanus shot, he's now more scared than he's of Jackson.

Thoughts of General Kalani:

Absolute respect for her.

Also admires her because of her power of will and the perseverance she has.

Jackson:

Thoughts of Kanoa:

"...Seriously? Are you FUCKING kidding me?"

Stress. The most pure stress of seeing another reckless superior.

"Is illegal to kill him, it's illegal to kill him, oh fuck it! I'll go to jail at some point anyway!"

Ended up talking more with him since Kanoa ends up the most on the bay and Aelan's is usually busy.

Respects him, but keeps getting stressed because of him.

Thoughts of Tiala:

"...I guess I can work with her...from the distance"

Doesn't talks a lot with her because of his past, but treats her when she ends in the bay as well. So he's more or less neutral with Tiala.

Has a distant respect for her eficiency and ability on the field, but also finds her elocuent and funny.

Tolerates her, but they aren't exactly friends.

"Meh, she's better than many I've met"

Thoughts on Nigel:

"A prankster, huh? Well, I guess he's okay"

Has analized him and Alicia and Luke's reaction, he knows something happens...but it doesn't really affects his perspective of him.

Respects his ability as a sniper and to hide at plain sight, also trusts him almost completely during a mission.

Thoughts on Agnes:

"WHY THEY KEEP MULTIPLICATING?! I'M GONNA QUIT!"

Another one that stresses him, mostly because now there are two of them that HE has to take care of.

Calls her the second gremlin inside his mind.

Doesn't really feel so comfortable when he has to look out for her, but does it anyway.

Already has given her a little aid kit for the burns she causes to herself during the experiments.

"These people are gonna kill themselves if I quit..."

Thoughts on Aelan:

She's the only one sane inside that place, and the only one that understands the amount of stress they are given.

"Use the bowl! The bowl!"

Tells her the most fucked up jokes and laughs of her fucked up jokes.

These two are like the mad scientists of both teams, sometimes they exchange some notes and even laugh like maniacs.

He lost 20 bucks on a bet where Aelan (supposedly) wasn't able to make Luke scream like a girl. (She did and Jackson laughed until he cried, the best invested 20 bucks).

The only one he considers as a friend.

Thoughts of General Kalani:

Doesn't knows her personally, but respects her because she' Aelan's mother and a good General.

Neutral towards her, but will sometimes defend her in front of the rookies.

Edward:

Thoughts of Kanoa:

"Jackson's gonna have an aneurism"

Wonders if all Marines are like that, then just keeps talking with him.

Has deep conversations with him and likes to hear some anecdotes.

Thoughts of Tiala:

Gives her some ideas to lead with Kanoa (the same he used to tolerate Alicia the first years of their friendship)

He's really admired of her abilities and he talks with her the most.

"Hmm, she really is made for big things, huh?"

They're chill together.

Thoughts of Nigel:

"I like this kid"

Helps him with the pranks he thinks of, telling him how to prank all the Specters.

Like to stay in silence with him while Nigel crafts some things during breaks.

Thoughts of Agnes:

He helps Jackson to look after her, and is amused by her attitude when she works.

Since they both have amazing memory, they can have conversations about topics of really old visits that maybe no one else remember.

Thoughts of Aelan:

Respects her and thinks of her as someone really strong because of her profession.

Doesn't really talks with her because he usually doesn't visits the medic bay so often.

It's a bit amused of her attitude, but also keeps his distance.

Thoughts of General Kalani:

A well respected superior, but doesn't really knows her.

Kinda admires her for all the things he knows about her.

Noah:

Thoughts of Tiala:

He considers her an interesting and kind of mysterious person, so he tries to talk with her ehen he has the opportunity.

Admired of her abilities and trusts her during missions.

Can feel that something bothers her, but doesn't ask since it isn't a story he should know.

Glad to have met her and gets along with her usually.

Elijah:

Thoughts of Tiala:

When none of them can sleep, maybe they talk for a while about random topics. He never asks questions and lets her talk at her own pace.

Elijah has learned a lot about Samoan culture thanks to Tiala, he so considers her someone really interesting.

He was really curious about her at first, but now he works well with her and sometimes make small talk during the flights.

Nicholas

Thoughts of Tiala:

From time to time he helps her with some repairs, and considers her someone that he respects a lot.

Marcus

Thoughts of Tiala:

Thinks of her as an amazing person and someone with a big will power.

Has heard of her when he first enter to the MC, and admires her because of the kind of things she does to help people as a soldier.

Likes to talk with her and is always really respectful.

Someone that always takes the time to do her job correctly, and that always gives her all for everything.

Elliot

Thoughts of Tiala:

Hasn't had many conversations with her, mostly because their personalities crash a lot. But for him, she's a good teammate when their teams work together, and trusts her on the field.

Respects her as well, and wonders if they could be friends if they stop arguing when they see each other.

Alexander

Thoughts of Tiala:

A righteous person that he really admires, and that he also respects as well.

He considers her as someone kind and strong at the same time, Alex likes her a lot because if it.

Sorry querida ;-; I ended up making it only with the first four members thoughts about all the WTF and the rest of them what they think about Tiala. Maybe later I'll try to make the rest of their thoughts!

Francis

Thoughts of Tiala:

This kid likes her a lot, he sees her as an older sister and usually passes by the WTF base to talk when he's off duty.

Takes part of his inspiration to be better from her and her brother, and considers them as two of his role models.

[prismuffin]

Hey. Can I send in a watch dogs request please when sitara is R’s older sister, and they are mute; and Sitara is really protective of them like Josh? Maybe like someone makes fun of them online or something and Sitara goes full big sister mode and comforts R while going after whoever sent the messages?

A/n: sorry if this is a bit short anon but also I enjoyed writing for watchdogs !! Gn Reader !!

Simple Mistake

Sitara Dhawan x mute!younger!sibling!reader

( summary: when the HQ gets hacked by some trolls with a petty grudge against "S1lentz0" they don't necessarily hold back on the idiot that left them such an obvious trail to follow, you )

warnings?: cyberbullying, swearing, talks of violence and guns, reader knows sign language!! ( italics are sign language )

!-!more under the cut!-!

You hadn't meant for this to happen honestly. You were in the hackerspace in your usual spot on the couch just patching up some code in the servers on your laptop. Recently Lenni had hacked into your guys' network and left so many backdoors and holes in your servers meaning you were much more susceptible to hacks these days. If you didn't patch this now who knows who could hack you next. You typed away at the keyboard your eyes following line after line of code when Wrench called for you. You were busy, but he said it'd only be a second and that if you didn't hold a very specific wire for him while he searched for his pliers then the thing he was working on would blow up in all of your faces, literally. Josh was busy with a similar task to yours, patching up the network after Lenni got in and removing any potential backdoors she could've left. Sitara was helping Markus with the 3D printer as he got ready to leave for another physical hack across LA. So you reluctantly looked away from your laptop, leaving your unfinished vulnerable servers for just a minute too long.

Sitara shot you a smile as she noticed you walking over to Wrench and you shot her one back. It was nice that even after all these years you still had a good relationship with your older sister. Not a lot of siblings can say that they stay as close as you two have. You look up to Sitara, the way she's so bold in both her art and real life, sometimes you wish you could be like that.

But you're not.

And that thought alone used to bug you so much but Sitara reassured you that you were perfectly fine as you. She's always looked out for you since you two were kids. Being mute and more reserved, it was a lot harder to make friends or to feel useful most days. There was always something bad happening in the world and you felt terrible knowing there was often nothing you could to to help. But after joining Dedsec as 'S1lentz0' with Sitara you've found that there are tons of different people in the world just like you and they're all helpful in their own ways.

Speaking of helpful, you cautiously grabbed the wire that Wrench held. "Good now keep that steady, don't let it touch any other wires or we're all dead...mmm- probably." He ranted as he ducked underneath his workstation in search of his preferred tool. You glanced down at him every so often, cursing in your hands as your hands struggled to stay perfectly steady, though with the amount of energy drinks the whole team downs you're not entirely shocked that you can't help the involuntary motion. "Aha!" Wrench yelled, shooting up only to hit his head on the underside of the table, making the whole thing shake. Your eyes widened as sparks flew momentarily before you grabbed the device to steady it before the wire could react with anything else. "owww," Wrench groaned as he stood up straight, rubbing the back of his head, his mask showing his displeasure. You breathed out a sigh of relief at the lack of any sort of explosion before Wrench took over again, grabbing the wire from your hand delicately as he looked at you. "Your presence is appreciated my dear friend," he put on a fake British accent as he spoke, patting your cheek with the pliers twice before focusing his attention back on the device. You nodded and took that as your cue to leave. Walking back over to your laptop, you huffed down onto the couch with a sigh ready to get back to work.

The sound of beeping caught your attention and you froze, grabbing your laptop you stared at the screen with wide eyes as some stupid animation of a snake firing a gun with its tail played. It shot through your code, 1's and 0's flying everywhere as a mechanical laugh played. The snake slithered into the hole it shot and suddenly the rest of the TVs in your hackerspace were projecting the image of the snake. "What the hell is that?" Marcus questioned making everyone stop to peer at the screens. You cursed in your head as you frantically tried to stop the hack before it could get any worse.

At this point, the damage was already done though. Everyone crowded around the screens as a mechanical voice spoke. "S1lentz0 has left you vulnerable. That quiet idiot can't code to save their miserable life." It spoke, and you jumped reacting as if their words had physically hit you. You just tried to ignore their words as you started to lock them out of your system.

Sitara's jaw clenched as she stared at the screens. "Don't you talk about them like that you worthless pricks." She spat, anger evident in her voice as she crossed her arms. The voice let out the same mechanical laugh from before and Sitara only glared at the sound. "They brought down our encryptions and stole our codes to fix your vulnerable systems and thought we simply wouldn't take notice?" You'd began to sweat slightly as your fingers typed rapidly to shut them down. "Wait, so you're calling them worthless because they hacked you and took down your precious encryptions?" Marcus asked, holding back a laugh at their petty reasoning. "Snakes with cowboy hats? Who's idea was that?" Wrench spoke up, laughing much more boldly than Marcus making Josh roll his eyes at the situation. "I've heard of these guys, they're a newer hacker group called Ouroboros. Their systems are so outdated, I'm not shocked that you got your shit hacked and taken down so quickly," Sitara spoke, still glaring at the screen as she continued. "Don't be mad because my little sibling outsmarted your dumbass encryptions. The only reason you're even here is because some other hacker group weakened our system, not because you're skilled hackers." The mechanical voice tried spitting back but was washed from the screens as you finally kicked them out for good, patching up your network in the process.

With a sigh your head fell into your hands, you felt so bad that you let this happen. "welp, that was stupid," Marcus said before going back over to the printer but Sitara was looking at you. Her eyebrows were furrowed with worry as she saw you with your head in your hands, knowing exactly what you were thinking. Walking over to the couch she crouched down next to you, placing her hand on your knee as she softly called your name. "Y/n," You peeked from your hands to look at her. 'I'm sorry,' you signed, 'I didn't mean to leave us vulnerable.' you frowned, looking back towards your laptop to avoid her eye. Sitara sighed before moving to sit next to you. With a smile she bumped your shoulder and you looked at her again. "Hey, it's not your fault ok? If we're gonna blame anyone here its Lenni. She was the one to leave us vulnerable, you were just trying to fix it." 'Yeah but I got distracted.' "And that's completely ok," she placed her hand on your shoulder and you leaned into the comfort now going into a side hug with her. 'Is it really?' you signed, and she smiled "Yes! It is y/n, nobody's blaming you hun just look around." She was right, everyone had simply went back to their original tasks. It was almost as if you guys hadn't got hacked only a few minutes prior. "Those guys that hacked us are just run of this mill idiots they don't pose any real threat." She said with a playful roll of her eyes and you hesitantly smiled at her wording.

You guess she was right, you'd only hacked them a while ago to steal some parts of their firewall that you thought would be useful in your own. You often do that, stealing multiple different encryptions and putting them all together for one mega-encryption that was damn hard to hack. "Don't beat yourself up over this alright y/n? Trust me, me and Marcus are gonna get them back, right Marcus?" She smiled at the approaching male, "Damn right," Marcus said with a smirk, placing his newly made zap-gun in a holster under his hoodie.

Moving out of the hug you turned and smiled at Marcus. 'Thanks you guys,' You signed and Marcus looked at Sitara for translation, he was trying to learn more ASL for you but it's a lot harder than he thought it'd be. "You're welcome Y/n," She said, eyeing Marcus as she placed a hand on your head and Marcus nodded. You couldn't help but feel better at the interaction. Just having confirmation that they had your back in situations like these was enough to make you beam. You truly loved your team at Dedsec and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

----!----

( I'm very iffy on this one tbh I kinda don't like how I wrote it but imma post it anywayyyyy !!! )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

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