#ive seen a couple other people try their hand at making these guys human

[ryssbelle]

Broppy and Brozone but they're peoples

#my art #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #brozone #trolls poppy #trolls branch #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #dreamworks trolls #human au #i guess but not really #ive seen a couple other people try their hand at making these guys human #so i thought I'd try #i meant to make john a bit more stocky but it didnt end up that way #ive been drawing trolls nonstop for like 2 weeks so im a bit rusty on people #hopefully its not too obvious #clay i think was the hardest only because i wanted to keep the hair texture from their troll forms #but i imagine him with a totally different one #so i may redo him #hes more of a curly hair guy to me #also idk if you noticed but i struggled with the lips too on all of them XD #i was trying to be nore realistic so i wanted to paint in the mouths #it didnt work #in my more cartoony/anime esque style i usually draw the lips more defined #like with lines #but im trying to get better

[ballcrusher74]

hello. are you. perhaps 👉👈 willing to talk about the inspector/faux. ive only seen cool arts and no context so im rather curious.

OK!!! I actually love rambling about my ocs so small questions like this make me day. I just get nervous LOL But! I will say, there's gonna probably be a bit I'm leaving out because it does involve my friends' characters and it's still an on-going thing atm (we tend to roleplay on lethal company as our guys. btw the oc group is called Cleanup Crew ! it explains the recent reblogs and new tags I've added on posts with this guy) AND this does also involve my own little interpretations of in-game mechanics and other things, but otherwise, I'll get the rest of him down!

Inspector, also originally known by the name of Terrance Conroy (or Terry), was a typical scavenger working under 'The Company' after a couple rough times on his home planet. (This information isn't necessarily set in stone, but the idea of him being a washed-up rock star before quitting his passion to get a job that pays his rent has been bouncing around in my brain.) He used to be a normal guy, trying to find a little hope in his desperate situation, and was a social butterfly. He tend to bounce from crew to crew, sometimes staying in some for only a couple days, and some for months. He was a very careful man, and looked out for his fellow crew members.

And then, one day, his first death on the job happens.

But instead of being greeted by a bright white light at the end of a tunnel, or complete pitch darkness, he appears on the ship again- completely physically fine.

This.. confuses him at first, yet he continues on.

And then he dies again. And again, and again. Over and over, the more deaths he's endured, the more he comes to a morbid realization that he can't truly die, nor can those around him. He tries to keep this truth hidden away from the others, as they seem to not have mentioned it at all before. He remembers everything. Every time he was ripped to shreds by an eyeless dog, every time he blew up into pieces from a landmine, every time he was shot multiple times, every time he was left behind or ejected as part of the disciplinary process- He felt it all and remembered it all. This goes on for the course of years (around 8-10 roughly) and over that course of time, he begins to grow very careless. What's the point of saving someone if they'll just come back? What's the use of tears when you're only a couple dollars off quota with a shovel in hand?

What's the point of it all? And with that carelessness comes selfishness into the picture. With how long he's been stuck in the cycle, he has become a very manipulative person, putting up a playful and nice persona on the outside- almost sickeningly sweet- in order to help other's do his bidding. He believes that if he were to cause so much chaos, disorder, and disruption within a crew, to where it's like animals mauling each other apart, he'd be able to break free from it himself. He doesn't care anymore about leaving others behind. He's desperate at this point to find a way out. Faux, who is an alter ego / disguise for Inspector, ties more into the on-going events right now, but I can give a basic rundown on his personality. He's a klutzy and quiet man, typically only talking to others when it's just him and them, and nobody else around, playing himself off as a selective mute. Since this is just Inspector in a jazzy little jester outfit, he still possesses all the traits of that man, just hidden away as to not blow his cover. He's still tugging on the strings in some way, people just don't realize. Sure, he's off putting and just a tad bit strange, but how can a goofy man like that be terrifying?

WOOOW ok that's a lot more typing than expected, but here's also a couple fun facts about the guy !

He stands at 6 feet and 1 inch, and is a very lanky guy compared to others, but this wasn't always the case. He used to just stand at 5 feet and 6 inches, and had more normal human proportions. With how many times he has died and how long it's been of the cycle, it has fucked up his appearance a LOT. Other things include : his 'skin' being grey, his voice constantly sounding like it's coming from a walkie talkie, no visible neck, his face becoming the helmet itself (it still bleeds, but there's nothing in there), and inhumanly flexible.

The only thing left of him that represents his last strand of humanity, is a singular, dim eye behind the tape on his visor.

He is very much not a rational man anymore. He is quick to jump to things, and won't hesitant with his actions.

When waiting to return from death, he is able to manifest in someone's head as a disembodied voice, and will typically mock them, or try and manipulate them further. In this state, he can see everything through the eyes of the person he's haunting. ^ Fun fact about this! This was originally based off a stupid bit where my friend was streaming LC to me with other buddies on the game and I kept telling them to step on landmines and then kill someone for a promotion, and then Inspector was born!

and UH I think that's about it I have for the guy atm! If the rest of the cleanup crew gets dropped than I'll update this accordingly perhaps. As of right now, enjoy my oc slop 👍

#lethal company #lethal company oc #oc #cleanup crew #that inspector that i hate #render

[intergalactic-chameleon]

gender thoughts: friendships with straight boys + girls

i've sort of talked about this before but god being able to make friends or just silly conversation with boys, especially straight boys, really is something that is fun for me. in general, i dont really care about straight men -- i far prefer queer men, and i look up to them way more that i would a straight man (excluding celebrity actor men that i like lol). but regardless, sometimes, having some silly goose banter with another straight guy that i deem Okay enough to enable myself to talk to can be such a special little treat for me. i grew up loving being friends with boys, and had many successful friendships with them, but especially as i went into middle school, rarely did the majority ever truly want to be my friend back. either they had feelings for me that were unwanted/not reciprocated OR more often than not, they just... didn't care. they didn't see me as a Real friend probably bc didn't see me as a viable dating candidate AND i would not dumb myself or my morals down for them to see me as "one of the good ones." and it fucking sucked!! guys in high school were absolutely atrocious when it came to feminism/LGBT stuff which was super disheartening.

but now that im in college (even tho it's ending soon), i feel a lot more... respected as a human being than before. which isn't saying a lot lol, straight men still are misogynist and bigoted in various other ways which make them unappealing to me. but i noticed as soon as i transferred to art school last year, men and women were far more integrated than what i had seen in high school. and seeing that really renewed my faith in making friends with another man, even tho i still probably will stick with queer men as my buddies for my sanity's sake.

in the perspective of my genderqueer identity, getting to positively interact with other masculine people (including men of course) feels so EUPHORIC... even if the other person only sees me as a Girl, i still express myself pretty openly and authentically if given the chance and i feel like they respond well to it. i've noticed a couple guys that ive interacted with once or a few times before that give me a glance while walking past me every now and then, as if to say "i think you're cool. im probably not gonna try and talk to you cuz im shy and unsure if i actually wanna be friends or not, but you intrigue me." of course, i may just be projecting what i Want them to think hahaha. but i swear, when i talk to straight boys like they're my equal, i think that genuinely makes an impression on them. and so they wonder about me. straight boys wanna be my friend but they're emotionally repressed and/or dont deserve my friendship!! and honestly? i kinda... dig that. lmfao. feels like i have the upper hand for once in my life. i swear im not being delusional HAHA.

but yea, anyway... i was just thinking about this because masculinity is weirdly important for me. being able to express it while in camaraderie with someone else is !!! so exciting! feels like im making up for lost time all those years that my male peers rejected me, forcing me to only really interact with girls. and just to be clear, i didn't have a problem with girls at all. they were a far better option than the boys so ofc p much all of my friends were girls for a very long time and expressing myself femininely wasn't like, totally inauthentic. but since i felt like girls were my only choice back in the day, that lead me to sort of repress any masculinity i wanted to express because i knew a lot of girls wouldn't "get" it. i've always felt different from most girls in general - being queer and neurodivergent and all - and trying to fit in with any of them who had any semblance of popularity (and who were usually very pretty + feminine) just... never really worked. to this day, i just dont feel feminine enough to really connect to the vast range of girls i've come in to contact with. a lot of them have access to a certain kind of social capital that i just never will be able to access simply by being more feminine that me. which is ok, i like spending my time exclusively with queer, trans, gnc, neurodivergent people. but yea, i've always kind of felt like an outsider to the womanhood that a lot of my cis female peers seem to experience, yet i don't exactly feel explicitly left out. this outsider experience is voluntary in a lot of ways because i know this experience just isnt exactly for me. womanhood as i know it is very informed by heterosexual dynamics and compulsory femininity and that just isn't my vibe at all!

#personal #gender

[regina-dei-fiori]

✦─chapter: 1/? ( ↣ )

✦─wordcount: 1.2k+

✦─genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, friends to lovers, college/human au

✦─fandom: moominvalley

✦─pairing: snufmin (snufkin x moomin)

✦─summary: as the night, cold air hits my face, i come here because i want to understand. understand you of all people. you've been so good to me, and i feel as if i've been unfair to you. will you help me sort things out?

or: when moomin and snufkin have their first big fight, they find themselves discovering new things about each other.

✦─loosely inspired by the song two slow dancers, by the one and only mitski

✦─read and support on ao3 💕

a/n: waaah, here we are finally. it is i, secret anon who asked @hanekdrawsmoomins​ if they could write fanfics about their au muahahaha. im quite excited for this, since this is my first time writing like, actual serious fanfics lol. but yeah,,, this one’s going to be a lil too much on the angsty side since ive been on my feels, but i sure do hope you guys enjoy lmao.

HOWEVER, happy ending is promised, so don’t worry about that dsjhgjgdskg

also, if anyone would a tag list to be created, plz tell me in the comments!

finally, i would just like to thank the amazing @iemondropsss​ for being my beta reader!! i really appreciate it <33

so, with nothing left to say, let’s get right into it >:))

-He's outside, Moomin,- a voice says from behind. -In the hallway.

I turn my head around quickly, alert from the sudden new sound. I relax when I realize it was just Snorkamiden. I make out her face in the middle of the club-like flashing lights. I'm sitting in a chair, decorated with pink and red paper strips. The music is so loud in the gymnasium, I could barely catch what she was saying.

The worried look she's wearing says more than a thousand words. I know who she's talking about, but I choose to appear that I don't.

-Who's outside?- I say as nonchalantly as possible, as I turn my head back to the table and start playing with the plastic cup in front of me. Snorkmaiden sees through my act tho. She always does.

She huffs, changing her expression to one that is not at all amused. 

-Stop acting stupid. You know exactly who I'm talking about.

I take the cup and slurp the near nonexistent juice. Why is he even here? Didn't he say that he never wanted to see me again? Is he just playing around? Should I go see him?

Fuck, I really want to see him again--

No. Control yourself, Moomin. You're mad at him, remember?  

I stay there, thinking for a while. I feel Mai and Sniff's eyes on me. Sniff is sitting at the same table as me. I know he's worried about me. He's been more nervous than usual, giving shaky looks to Mai from across the dancefloor before we sit down together, trying to find an answer as to what was going on.

-You can't stay like this forever, Moomin. You two will have to talk things out at some point...

-But does it have to be right now?- I turn back to see her again, my eyes pleading with the false hope of putting the confrontation off longer. Snorkmaiden doesn’t seem to change her mind.

We have a quick staring contest before she speaks again.

-He literally came running from his house, you insufferable idiot. Doesn't that mean something to you?

I almost knock my chair over from standing up too fast, and I really hope no one noticed. I don’t need more embarrassing attention than I already have.

-What? How do you even know that?

-It's easy to tell, he's panting like crazy.

I lean against the table’s edge as I try to make sense of what he has done. 

What does he think he’s doing? Has he gone out of his mind? Why would he do something so stupid? Go run from his house to here, in this goddamn weather? Is he serious? And what for? Did he...?

I stay paralized at the mere thought of it. No, it can't be. He didn't just…

-Well, maybe... maybe he forgot something in his locker-, I say in a desperate attempt to regain my cool. An attempt that, of course, goes in vain.

-Moomin, we both know he doesn't care about school work, or at least not to that degree. What could he possibly forget at school that would be so important for him to come running like that in the middle of a freezing night?

Her stare wears me down. I don't wanna say it, I don't even want to think about it. I wouldn't like to get my hopes up for nothing. I wouldn't like to get hurt…

But then again, why would he come?

I look down at the floor, meditating for a second. If I go out there, it will be inevitable for us to talk again. I'll have no choice but to listen to what he has to say.

And for some reason, that scares me to death.

Because…

What happens if he actually meant what he said? What if he actually doesn't want to talk to me anymore? I don't think I would be able to handle that. 

I sigh heavily. My head is spinning like crazy. He's outside right now. He's right there. And you, sir, need answers, don't you? Once you do this, you'll be able to sleep more peacefully tonight (hopefully). 

It really can't be that bad, right? If things go south, we'll just... Well, we'll just stop talking to each other and that’ll be that…

I shake that thought out as fast as it comes. If I think too much I won't be able to get anything done.

I turn my head back up, to see Snorkmaiden anticipating a final decision from me. I catch my breath one last time. Here goes nothing, I guess.

-Where is he, exactly?

I can see her body relax after those words come out. I can even swear I see a small smile tease her face.

-Next to the janitor's room, around the corner.

I adjust my tuxedo, and Mai finally breaks from her static position, placing her hand on my shoulder.

-Good luck.

I nod curtly as my answer and start walking towards the gymnasium's exit, fighting the urge to look back. I hope Mai can take the work of explaining to Sniff what the hell is going on. I feel bad for not being able to tell him myself, but sometimes even I don't know how to decipher these situations myself.

I hear one of the boys of the basketball team call after me before going through the door, but I already nod to the teachers outside in the hallways that I’m just passing through. I quickly explain I'm going to the restroom, and I hope to God the coach doesn't notice that I'm sweating quite a bit. 

I don't even know what I'm going to say once I get to him. We haven't talked in a couple of days now. He's good at avoiding people when he sets his mind to it. Who’s even supposed to start the conversation? That is implying he actually did come all this way just to talk to me. Damn, what if we're all wrong and he really just came to pick something up? Ah, this shouldn't be so complicated-

My thoughts stop once I turn around the corner. I stop on my tracks once I hear faint sobs. There appears to be no one at first glance, but then I notice a lump on the floor, right next to the door of the janitor's. 

I don't really know how to proceed. But before I can do anything, he notices me. He's wearing his green hoodie's cap tightly over his head when he raises his face. He watches me for a couple more seconds before slowly taking it off, revealing something that oh so breaks my heart. 

His eyes are red and swollen, and I realize that this is the first time I’ve ever seen him crying. His eyes are also sporting deep dark circles underneath them, and it looks like he hasn't taken off the hoodie in a while.

He just looks... So weak. So defeated. So hopeless. All I want to do now is go and push his hair away from his eyes and wipe his tears away. I want to hold him and tell him I promise everything will be okay. I have to remind myself that we have to talk first before anyone can be assured that they are loved.

-Moomin...- is all he can say the moment he notices it's me. He looks like he's about to burst into tears again.

Snufkin.

#moomin #moominvalley #moomin college au #moomin human au #snufkin #little my #snorkmaiden #moomin sniff #moominmamma #moominpappa #snufmin #moomin fanfic #snufmin fanfic #moominvalley fanfic #moomintroll #tove jansson #regina scrive

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

#writin stuff #please clap.

[spacedikut]

how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read 

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg #also this was longer before editing and originally included a whole thing with a male police officer being interested in reader but it was #already SO LONG

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 2

photo credits - @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language 

summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.  

a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

chapter 1 // chapter 3

-----

Chapter 2 

Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart. 

Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.

“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-” 

“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy. 

“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?” 

His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting. 

“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line. 

----

Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case. 

That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you.  Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now? 

Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone. 

----

You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction. 

It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point. 

The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore. 

----

When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance. 

Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies. 

Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you. 

You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again. 

“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye. 

“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. 

The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?” 

The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. 

----

“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.” 

That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you. 

----

Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats. 

One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.

Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.” 

“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3. 

It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.” 

Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.

Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now. 

You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips. 

“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart.  “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place. 

You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates. 

“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence. 

As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good. 

----

Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents. 

Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake. 

----

Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.

You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-” 

“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ. 

You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish? 

“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there? 

“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth. 

Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or- 

“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.

----

a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #'stori writes #in the stars

[wickedpact]

You can't just drop that "I read Forces Multiplied" bomb on us and not give a ten page written reaction.

[cracks knuckles] if u insist

nicky cant drive hc: destroyed. rip. also i loved how andy and nile stole those sports cars and were being badass and driving off the bridge & meanwhile joe and nicky were just absolutely vibing in the van

'heres the thing about power: people who have it think they deserve it' [shot of police car] i see u greg

5 whole panels being dedicated to booker not being able to unlock his door. booker not even seeing noriko sitting RIGHT THERE in the window at first. incredible

noriko being 24/7 horny was surprising. like wow all of the stuff i saw she did out of context was 100% equally horny in context as it was out of context. love that for her

i didnt think the 'andy + slavery' thing was handled as badly as everyone made it out to be when telling me about it. tho from the way it was talked about i had kind of figured the conflict between andy and nile re: slavery would be really racially charged (esp considering nile is a black american and would obvs have Thoughts on the subject in that regard) but like,, done in a cringey 'a-white-guy-obviously-wrote-it' kind of way? but it wasnt that. i mean. it makes sense that andy would be implicit in slavery through the years

i mean, like she says, is that not what people just did to each other in the aftermath of battles for thousands of years? and i really like how its pointed out that it was what she was raised with (in the beginning when you see her put shackles on that guy after the battle) but she also accepts responsibility for it and acknowledges that it was wrong and not just 'what people did'.

i like how from her expressions you can kind of tell baby andy knew it was off but she sets those feelings aside bc she felt angry. it explains how she felt but didnt make her out to be blameless in it. plus i mean. i dont know, the fact that andy was involved in a lot of morally shady stuff for 7000 years is not that wild for me. if you live that long youre just Going to be involved in some shit, and she didnt even have other immortals with her as positive community influences, she literally just did whatever the fuck she wanted for thousands of years

'i was worshipped as a god once' i mean, yeah no shit she wouldve been involved in some seriously fucked up stuff, gods were fucking scary back in the day

tldr it could use some polish but it wasnt that bad

tho everything people said about moose being boring was unfortunately a little true. sorry king i tried to be interested in you

joe and nicky writing verbal fanfiction about nile and moose was iconic. 'you seeing that?' 'i am definitely seeing that'

it was also extremely funny bc that was like 60% of their contribution to the whole comic, besides kidnapping copley. they came, they wrote some fanfic, they left. kings. at least in tog1 they had an excuse to be useless bc they got kidnapped

joe just found out his old friend who he thought was dead is alive (and also probably wants to murder them) and instead of investigating with andy he stopped to help nile up. champ.

nicky shooting noriko through andy was cool. rip to the concept since it wont happen in tog2

wanna see mr ejiofor deliver this line

on that note imo copley was. weirdly enough, more interesting in fm than in tog1. to me at least. the fact that andy let him live and he was so haunted by what had happened that he came back and sought them out despite knowing they would likely kill him for it bc he wanted to not only make up for what hed done but also to tell them what theyd done for the world was admittedly more interesting than andy just kind of drafting him to the cause and him going 'okie'

i like how nicky was drawn in this one. in opening fire he looks like a blob man but in fm he looks more like a very nice grampa with a very good dye job

'theres no pain like a broken heart' andy 🥺

noriko implying andy's never drowned. .. .idk about that one, she musta drowned sometime

joe and nicky came, they waxed poetic about nile's love life, they waxed poetic about grog, and then they left.

sports bras being a reason humanity is good. i mean..... okay, yeah.

i mean. wild but you cant exactly tell her shes wrong

i liked how noriko telling andy that their purpose is to make people suffer coincides with joe and nicky finding out that they actually did good all those years

joenicky in opening fire: jail for booker jail for booker for 100 years

joenicky when copley tells them he knows where booker is: WE'LL KILL YOU WHERE IS HE

joenicky when copley comes back: if your vibes come off as even remotely rancid we Will destroy you

joenicky 2 minutes later when copley helped them find booker: he made up some ground :)))) <3 lov you j cops

theyre forgiving af

moose: how old are you?? a hundred??? a thousand???

nile [vine voice]: I M 2 7 ?

alright andy you got me there

joe texts like my aunt

i dont know why noriko drowning andy in that car tickled me. Bad And Naughty Andromaches Get Put In The Pear Wiggler To Atone For Their Crimes.

the drowning sequence was cool

copley trying to talk to andy while she was like o_o at him was great

ive hit the picture limit but id seen that panel where nicky goes 'forgive me' as he kills a guy out of context and it was HILARIOUSLY anticlimactic for me to discover that there was literally no context to it. nicky just apologizes to random people he kills. i thought that guy was someone he knew or something. nope its just Some Guy that nicky didnt know from adam

nile's complaint that andy was especially brutal to the guys on the boat... i mean. . , how exactly does one kill a man with an axe and not be brutal about it?

it was funny how noriko kissed andy and the only people who seemed surprised by that were nile and also andy

nicky and joe's complete non-reaction to finding out noriko is alive And Evil Now is endlesly funny. they just left her on that boat and neither cared. i get book and nile not caring but joe and nicky knew her, and they just have 0 input on the subject of what to do with her

pinstripe suit guy!

joe and nicky and booker packing up and leaving with nile

andy blowing up at nile was A Moment tho

i dont know, i get why people didnt like the ending but its. .. . it makes more sense in the comicverse. bc the squad doesnt really. .. interact outside of jobs? i mean, think of the moon landing story in ttt. that was booker and joe and nicky doing a job and andy only showed up a for a couple minutes after it was done. or the brunch in the first issue of opening fire. the squad arent as tight in the comic, and andy often seems to do her own thing outside of work, so andy saying 'i dont want to do work anymore' and the squad being like 'alright bye then' makes more sense in this universe than the movie one

also i feel like greg was Trying to set up a thing where nile becomes the Leader of The Squad after andy dies but like. its not very well done since. . . i mean, nile hasnt spoken to booker since opening fire, (and she only knew him A Day). and shes known joe and nicky all that time, but there isnt really anything that indicates that they have any relationship at all, much less one that's grown. in all the comicverse the only time nile and nicky speak is in FM, and in that scene nicky tells nile about noriko. nile goes from someone who needs to be set aside to have background knowledge explained to her to being the Leader of the group with nothing in between. it kind of... comes out of nowhere.

on the other hand tho... i felt really bad for andy thru the whole thing. well, i always felt bad for andy, but in this one she seemed so miserable, especially since it really felt like none of the others actually.... cared about her. when noriko came back no one asked andy how she was doing (big question ik, but it wouldve showed they cared at least), nobody ever expressed any concern for her, no one even really seemed to want to be around her. in opening fire everyone was more distant than in the movie of course, but there were little moments where she would joke with joe, or nicky would try and comfort her, or stuff like that, but in FM it really felt like they just didnt really care about her. & in opening fire it felt a lot like andy's relationship with nile breathed some new life into her, but in FM it felt like all they did was argue. i get theyre not *as* close in the comics but it really felt like the only person who cared about andy at all was noriko (which was probably also how andy felt) but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. honestly i was reading and i was honestly agreeing with andy that she might just be better off if she did just die. opening fire, on the other hand, never make me feel that way

tho everyone made it sound like when the squad split up it was one of those cursed 'the found family leaves each other at the end of the journey' tropes. but guys i mean,,, this is the second installment out of three. that isnt the End. theyll come back in the third one and Dramatically Reunite to fight some baddies (probably those 'others' noriko mentioned). im guessing yitzhak fits into that too somehow.

anyways it wasnt That Bad but it made me kind of sad and the only Sweet Found Family vibes in it were when they saved booker. also they shouldve beefed up that nilemoose romance, it underwhelmed me. 6.5/10

i also ABSOLUTELY understand all of greg's comments about how you couldnt make FM directly into a movie, he always said that it had no plot and. i get it now. it really didnt have a plot sdfghjkl

#nicoloalkaysani #it took me So Long to type this up #asdfghjk

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || VIII

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes. 

Note: Me, coming out of my depression snap to drop this 😌. Introducing....Wanda! Comment to be added to taglist.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII

PART VIII of XX

Count: 8097

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're starting to understand how the dynamic works between the Avengers. While everyone is a star in their own way, they come together as a team seamlessly. 

You look around at the chaos on the field, snickering when you hear in your earpiece of Tony making fun of Steve for saying, "language!"

"That's not going to go away soon," you hear Steve mutter. 

"David, do you know how to take down the shield?" You ask.

You hear David hum.

"I don't know. There's a pathway under the north tower. Blow it up or something," You could picture David shrugging.

"Oh my god," you mutter.

"Hey, that was my idea!" Tony flippantly said as he flew towards the north tower while David hung casually from Tony's ankles. 

There was so much happening on the field. Tony was sending his Iron Legion bots to help the civilians, though you doubt the civilians will appreciate it.

You were watching rather idly on the field, occasionally taking out an android or soldier. But you could hear something in the area. 

Footsteps.

Footsteps that were much too fast to be a soldier or an android. 

You looked at Clint, who was hiding behind a tree, pulling his arrow in his bow to try to take out a bunker. He shot the arrow, but before it could reach the person manning the bunker, someone caught it.

Clint seemed confused, but you had seen it somewhat clearly. It was shocking to you. 

A blond, almost silver-haired man with a trimmed goatee and 5 o'clock shadow was...running. That was the best way you could describe it in your eyes. 

To the human eye, he was a blur.

"We have an enhanced on the field," Steve notifies everyone when Clint had tried again, but the intruder had caught it, and Clint was hit by a blast in his side as he was distracted by his shock. 

"Clint's hit," Natasha tells everyone else right after. "He's going to need evac."

"I'll take care of the enhanced," you let everyone know while Thor says he can take Clint to the jet. 

You take off, running in the direction you saw the speedster go. It's relatively easy for you to catch up with him. He seemed to be making his way back to the base. 

Even though you're a relatively older vampire, you can't seem to catch up with him completely. You're trailing behind him, but even so, that seems to surprise him. 

He stops in his tracks, causing you to stop as well. He stands there before you, eyes wary as he takes you in as you try to remember everything in David's file.

Pietro Maximoff.

"What are you?" He asks, accent thick in his voice. 

You cock your brow at him, "You know that's rather rude to ask a lady."

You see the slightest twitch in his lip. You take his face in more slowly this time. 

There is part of him that reminds you of Tatyana, and you're sure he's her descendant. 

"You're different," he comments, "but I don't remember seeing you as part of the Avengers."

"I'm really just a part-timer," you tell him.

He takes in your response. You stand still, trying to listen on the field because David's file told you there were two of them.

You don't hear anything else on the field, and when your eyes dart to the side for just a moment, Pietro smirks. 

"You're fast," he says, "but you're not as fast as me." 

Before you have anything else to say, Pietro takes off again. You have half a mind to chase after him, but you know it would only be a game of tag. 

"Careful out there. Pietro has run off, and his sister is not in the area," you warn the team. 

"We've got all the data from their systems; I'm going to head back first to process it all," David speaks back into the intercom. 

You're about to take off towards the base when you hear Natasha advise they've locked down their positions and Steve telling her to get Banner. 

You pause. 

You know the girl, Wanda, is likely to be in the base with Tony, and you really should go because David has left, and Tony shouldn't be left alone.

But...

You turn around, running off towards Natasha. 

It was a shot in the dark plan that Bruce had come up with some time ago. Bruce asked that Natasha be the one to try to bring him back since Tony would be busy handling the inside of the base, and for some reason, Natasha was the next person he thought would be able to bring him back. 

Still, you were worried.

Trust or not, you know what the Hulk is capable of, and your instinct wouldn't let Natasha face that alone. 

You quickly find the Hulk grunting as he walked around the snow in a secluded area. You step out quietly, undetected as you see Natasha approaching from the other side. On the outside, she appeared completely fine, but you could hear her heart trembling in her chest.

You didn't step out into view because this was for Natasha to do, and you didn't want to overstep your boundaries with Bruce, but you would intervene if necessary.

"Hey, big guy," Natasha softly said so that he wouldn't feel threatened. The Hulk growled at her, stepping towards her, and you felt your thighs tense, wanting to move forward immediately, but you held yourself.

In terms of strength, you weren't stronger than the Hulk. But your odds were definitely better than anyone else's, and your body would be more durable if he hit or threw you.

And while Natasha may be enhanced, the Hulk could accidentally kill her. 

"The sun's getting real low," Natasha coos, putting her hand out in front of him as she kneels. 

The Hulk scowls at her, breathing heavily. He stares at her hand, and to Natasha's credit, her hand was as still as a stone. The Hulk grunts again before he reaches his hand back out to her, flipping it over before placing the backside of his hand down onto Natasha's. 

She swallows, trying to give him a reassuring smile as she strokes his hand. For a second, you think you see him relax a little.

But something shifts, and you're unsure if it's because of Natasha or because of the Hulk. Whatever it is, you sense the change immediately, watching his shoulders tense and tremble, the low grumble in his throat. 

Before you know it, you're digging your foot into the ground. It goes through the snow, breaking the gravel underneath and your hand ripping off part of the tree's trunk as you burst towards Natasha.

Before the Hulk can knock Natasha into the air, you hurdle into her, rolling a couple feet away in the snow. The redhead is breathless, surprised to see you. 

"What are you--" She starts to say as the two of you stand up.

"Stay here," you tell her as you blur in front of the Hulk. 

Natasha feels her heart fills with fear as you stand before the Hulk. You look so tiny compared to him. The rational part of her brain knows that you're not human. You're stronger, stronger than many people out there. You're an immortal, and she's aware that only one thing can kill you.

But she can't help but feel fear because Natasha couldn't help herself from feeling it in front of the Hulk.

Natasha watches you, your mouth reared back in a snarl, and your teeth look sharp. 

And then she felt it.

An invisible crackle in the air.  

The hair on the back of Natasha's neck stood, and it felt like her feet were being rooted to the ground. She looks at you again, and your eyes are glowing red. 

And it's the first time Natasha realizes that you are a vampire. 

A predator. 

Dangerous.

You look at the giant creature before you. His muscles are tensing under the pressure you're exerting.

He hasn't moved from his spot, but he's growling and roaring at you. 

It's not enough, you know.

It would be nearly impossible to compel him to simply turn back. 

You turn, taking a silent step, so light and quiet that it doesn't even leave an imprint in the snow. You hold your finger out, catching his attention, and the Hulk snarls at you. 

Calmly, you bring the finger between your eyes, the red fading away. The Hulk follows the movement, looking right into your eyes. 

Your pupils expand, looking like they've exploded into liquid tendrils.

"Relax," you command lithely.  

You can see the Hulk trying to resist, but his pupils are dilating in and out. He's grunting, glaring at you, but you remain expressionless.

"Look around you," you softly say, his head turning automatically. "There's no more danger. It's just you, me, and Natasha. There's nothing to be angry at. Nothing to smash."

The Hulk looks back at you, and you still have your compulsion on.

"Relax," you tell him again.

This time, he stares longer, eyes remaining dilated.

He let out a puff of air, a small whine before he started shaking his head. Not long after, he staggered back, falling to the ground stumbling as he began to shrink, and the green started to fade.  

When all was said and done, Bruce Banner lay in the snow, getting up slowly as he watched his surroundings. 

You close your eyes for a moment, pupils returning to normal as Natasha starts to move towards Bruce. Your instincts still feel like they're on haywire, wanting to immediately intercept her from getting closer, but you're able to rationalize that Bruce isn't a threat anymore.

He's simply a man, with a beast sleeping inside. 

Natasha gives him his clothes that he changes into behind a tree. When he comes back out, he gives you a self-deprecating smile.

"I'm guessing the lullaby didn't work?" He asks.

You shrug. "It did a little. Perhaps if it was someone you were closer to, it would've worked all the way."

A part of you felt like if you didn't monopolize Natasha's time, she would've become a good friend to Bruce.

Not to say there weren't now, but there was hardly a bond. 

"How did you get me to turn back?" Bruce asks.

"Compulsion," you answer simply. 

"You can compel me to turn back?" He asks, surprised, a tinge of hope in his voice.

You shake your head.

"Not exactly," you clarify. "I used compulsion to sway you into calming down. You weren't exactly on a rampage, so it made it easier."

Bruce bites his tongue but gives a sharp nod. 

Right after, you hear Steve in your ear saying they've secured the scepter. The twins have escaped, but it was time to head back to the Quinjet. Bruce starts to head back first, and Natasha starts to follow, but you stop her.

She looks back at you curiously. 

You can't help it.

Your instincts are going off even though you know Natasha's not in immediate danger. 

You can't help but check her over, eyeing every bit of her to ensure she's not hurt. Natasha seems to know what you're doing, smiling lightly as she steps forwards into you, wrapping her arms around you.

"I'm okay," she reassures you. 

You blink, momentarily surprised, but you wrap your arms around her. 

"Why did you come?" She asks you. "I know you were planning to meet the twins."

You inhale her scent slowly, feeling the relief hit your system. 

"Nothing," you rumble, pulling back to look at Natasha's face. "Nothing could keep me from you if there's a chance you might get hurt."

You lift your hand to cup her jaw, slowly stroking her cheek. Natasha leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she looks back at you.

Her green orbs have you captivated, and you can't help but stare into her eyes, remembering every detail of them. The tiny speckles of sun within the lush forest of her eyes have you falling for her all over.

"I want my vows to mean something with you," you mumble, leaning closer to her face, eyes dropping down to her lips. 

Natasha's heart flutters as she feels her eyes closing. She grips the back of your jacket tightly between her fingers. 

"Your vows?" Natasha husks. 

The tip of your nose touches her, and her nose feels cold. You can see your own breath out in the cold as your lip brushes against hers.

"You're mine to protect," you say before closing the distance, pressing your lips against hers softly.

You find that her mouth is much warmer.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You wished that Natasha would've let you take her back first class again, but she seemed to think it would be better to travel back as a team.

That being said, she was adamantly against you buy everyone's plane ticket first class. 

You shifted in your seat, feeling uncomfortable in the aircraft as you watch Steve fly. It doesn't help that you can hear Bruce playing opera music through his headphones. You know it probably helps him relax, but you can't help but feel like it's doom music. 

You watch as Natasha goes over to him, trying to comfort him as she turns his music off.

"Hey, the lullaby half-worked. Don't beat yourself up too much."

"Yeah," Bruce shrugs. "I just didn't expect Code Green."

"If you hadn't been there, there would've been double the casualties. My best friend would've been a treasured memory," Natasha smiles.

"You know, sometimes exactly what I want to hear isn't exactly what I want to hear," Bruce looks at her.

You resist the urge to snarl at him because you can tell it makes Natasha feel bad when her intention is to make him feel better.

"Thor, report on the Hulk?" Bruce asks, shifting his attention to the Norse God. 

"The gates of Hell are filled with the screams of his victims," Thor happily shares.

You resist the urge to laugh when Bruce groans, and Natasha glares at Thor.

You catch David's eye from across the aircraft and find he's also smirking.

"Uh, but, not the screams of the dead, of course," Thor tries to backtrack. "No, no, uh...wounded screams, mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining and tales of sprained deltoids and, and uh... and gout."

"It probably would've been worse if you weren't there," Bruce says as he looks at you, and you merely shrug. 

"Can you compel me to not change or compel me to change back when I'm the Hulk?" Bruce asks, looking hopeful.

Everyone looks at you.

"Compel?" Tony asks as he squints his eyes at you.

"Out on the field. The lullaby didn't quite work as well as we thought. If she hadn't been there, I don't know what I would've done to Natasha," Bruce purses his lip in shame. 

"What did you do?" Tony asks you, but Bruce cuts in.

"I don't know how to describe it," Bruce starts. "I mean, for starters, I only remember bits and pieces of it, but it was like something overcame me, overrode what the Hulk was feeling. It allowed me to change back."

You felt like you were getting an oncoming headache from this.

Tony looks at you suspiciously, and you roll your eyes.

Before you can say anything, David jumps in to explain for you.

"Every vampire has a power called Compulsion," he draws the attention to himself. "We can essential mind control humans by having them look into our eyes. It's generally not something we can use to control people forever, but it does get stronger with age, training, and diet."

"Diet?" Clint clarifies from his spot.

"Human feeders are always more powerful than vampires who choose to feed on animals. Blood bags are the halfway point," David shrugged.

You turn to look at Bruce.

"Either way, the answer is no," you tell him. "For one, it's not a power I like to use unless the situation calls for it. While you may feel that every case the Hulk is in calls for it, I don't. Secondly, I didn't compel you to change back. As I said, I only influenced you to remain calm. It's unlikely I can compel you to turn back if the Hulk's willpower overpowers mine when he's wild. Thirdly, I'm not your keeper. I'm not interested in Hulk-sitting for you if we're out on missions."

It's rather blunt, but you don't want to beat around the bush regarding this matter, lest you wanted Bruce to keep trying to convince you.

"You sound like you trust him," Bruce grumbles unhappily. 

You shrug once more. "It's not about trust. He's a part of you, whether you want him to be or not. He's not going anywhere. I accept that about you. Do you?"

Silence falls over the aircraft, but you don't care. Bruce stares at you, and you quirk a brow at him.

He doesn't provide you his answer, most likely because it's a no, but tension rises.

"Anyways," Tony breaks up the quiet with his own brow cocked. "Dr. Cho's on her way in from Seoul. She's gonna set up in your lab, that okay, Banner?"

"Uh, yeah, she knows her way around," Bruce blinks.

Just like that, the rest of the ride is spent discussing the mission, the scepter, and Strucker.

At some point, Natasha comes to sit next to you. You fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to her, but you force them to remain at your side.

"Hey," she whispers, but it clear as day for you.

"Hey," you say back, smiling lightly when you feel Natasha's pinky atop of yours.

You suppose flying in the aircraft wasn't all awful.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"How you holding up, bud?" You asked with a slight drawl that had Clint chuckling as he winced. 

Dr. Cho was arguably one of the most beautiful women you've encountered, and she had a slight bite in her that made her easy to get along with. 

Clint merely makes a grunt and a sequence of grumbles that get you chuckling back.

"You sure he's going to be okay? Pretending to need this guy really brings the team together," Natasha asks as she looks at Dr. Cho.

Clint playfully glares at her while she smiles innocently back at him.

Dr. Cho smiles reassuringly at the redhead. "There's no possibility of deterioration. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't know they're bonding with simulacrum."

"She's creating tissue," Bruce says with amazement in his voice and eyes wide. 

You're lost on the rest of the talk as you look around the room and machinery. David would know much more regarding the technology in this room, but he was currently with Tony working on the scepter. 

"I hear that your venom does exactly the same thing my work does, if not faster and better," Dr. Cho says, grabbing your attention. You can tell she fascinated with you by the look in her eyes. "Would you be interested in giving me a sample of your venom or blood?" 

You give her a smirk but shake your head.

"I'll have to politely decline," you tell her as everyone looks at you in the room. "While my venom is capable of healing someone, it's also capable of killing or changing someone. The last thing I want is for the wrong person to potentially get their hands on it and figure out how to activate my venom that way. On top of that, using venom has side effects."

You look at Clint, "I only use it for life or death situations on humans. Otherwise, I would've healed you on the field."

"What kind of side effects?" Dr. Cho asks.

You hum.

"Every human reacts a little differently to it. But generally, the more venom a human has in their system, they take on features of a vampire. It's very subtle," You wrap a strand of hair around your finger. "Maybe their skin gets clearer, hair gets a little shinier, they feel less hungry or even find they need less sleep. Of course, it's not forever because the venom is eventually diluted out by more blood being produced in their system if a vampire doesn't continually inject them with venom."

"That doesn't seem like bad side effects," Clint frowns.

You smile at him before you release your hair and go back to crossing your arms. 

"Perhaps not, but sometimes the symptoms come in another form too. Like you're hungry, but for some reason, food just isn't hitting the spot for you." 

He blinks at you. 

"Are you saying..." he drags, not wanting to say it out loud as he scrunches his nose.

"That as a human, you might get the craving for blood and possibly drink it to satisfy the craving? Yes." 

Clint visible shivers in disgust and gags at the thought, and you shrug with a laugh.

"That's why I prefer to not use my venom unless I have to. While everyone reacts to it differently, I try to not take the chance," you look at Dr. Cho.

"Wait, wait, wait--" Tony interrupts. "Capsicle told us you used it on Natasha."

You nod, not seeing the problem.

"Well, I highly doubt she was going to die from a gunshot wound, and there was a medic there," Tony states like it's obvious.

You tilt your head with quirk your brow. "Well, one, I was making a point of revealing I was a vampire. Secondly, I was--am attracted to her, and now I'm dating her. Her safety will always be my number one priority. I will always use my venom to heal her if she's hurt."

"That's just favoritism!" Tony shouted indignantly. 

You gave him a look that just screamed, 'Yeah? Have you not been listening to me?'

Natasha let out a burst of laughter at Tony's face.

The rest of the time was spent bickering about tonight's party, and you couldn't help but catch eyes with Natasha every few minutes. 

And she's looking back with you with half-lidden eyes.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You have an unsettling feeling in your stomach, though you aren't sure why. David seems to feel the same as you can see him across the room, tapping his foot impatiently.

"What's wrong?" You say quietly, garnering only David's attention.

"I don't know," David sighs. "You know how I was looking at Tony's system and helping out with the scepter, right?"

You hum.

"Tony is trying to build some kind of protection legion for the world, but something feels off," David says quietly, barely moving his lips. "I feel like I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."

You hum again. Tony had seemed off-balance to you. He was clearing suffering PTSD from the alien invasion in New York, but then he seemed more...off after returning from the base in Sokovia. It was subtle, but he appeared to be slowly becoming unhinged to you.

"Tell me about it later," you tell David, who nods sharply. 

You set off to try to enjoy the rest of the night. 

"Well?" 

You look over the bar as you lean over the counter. Natasha's looking absolutely delectable tonight. She had given herself a haircut before the mission, and while you somewhat missed her long hair,  the short haircut was doing it for you too.

"What can I get for you, sweetheart? I think this one's on the house," Natasha flirts with you. You're barely holding your own smile as you look at her. 

"I'm not sure what kind of drink I want, but I do know I want to take the bartender home. Do you think she'll let me?" You ask with an innocent look that has Natasha smirking.

"Play your cards right, and she just might."

Natasha winks at you before she has to go to the other end of the bar to help another person with their drink, but not before leaving a rum and coke for you.

You watch her saunter off, looking just delicately over her shoulder to smile at you before she focuses on the person in front of her. 

"See? Told you things would work out."

You look beside you to see Steve standing there with a big ole' grin on his face.

You roll your eyes.

"Must be hard being right all the time, huh?" You joke.

"Yes," he sighs dramatically, "but it's a burden I must carry."

You both burst into laughter, and you let out a light sigh. You had missed Steve with the time apart, his friendship is so important to you. Steve is looking at you gently too, and you're happy to know he feels the same.

"Have you called Sharon?" You ask.

"Somehow, I knew you wouldn't forget that," Steve quirks his lip.

"A deal's a deal, pal," you lick your lips. 

"You'll be happy to know that I did. There may be an upcoming date," he seems almost proud of himself, and you can't help but smile.

"Atta boy!" You smile as you slap him on his shoulder.

"You sound like Bucky when you say that," Steve shakes his head.

"Any leads?" You ask with a sympathetic smile.

Steve shrugs. "Sam is still chasing, but I'll catch up with that later."

"Well, let me or David know if we can be of any help."

Steve nods in thanks.

The night starts to fade in as the rest of the party gathers around the coffee table, sitting haphazardly with their drinks in hand. You're sitting on the divan couch with no sides or back, while Natasha is leaning half her body on you with a bottle of beer in hand. 

Everyone's currently trying to see if they can lift Thor's hammer. 

You watch as Tony and James try to pull it together, it's truly a hilarious sight to see. 

You and Natasha grin as Bruce tries, even attempting to turn into the Hulk to lift it while everyone eyes him warily.

"Good attempt, big guy," you give Bruce a thumbs up. 

"How about you try, Elaine?" Bruce gentlemanly gestures to the hammer, and you snort.

"No thanks, I already know I'm a piece of shit, no need for a magical home depot tool to confirm it for me," you grin, swigging back your drink to keep it light-hearted. 

You feel Natasha softly brush your hand over your glove, and you turn your hand over so you can intertwine fingers. 

You wish you could kiss her right now. 

Steve is next in line, and Tony smirks at him.

"No pressure, cap," Tony steps aside. 

Steve rolls up his sleeves and begins to pull on it.

Thor is laughing because it seems like nothing is happening. 

But, ever so slightly, it budges. Thor seems to catch the movement as well as his face drops. 

But the hammer doesn't move anymore after that, and Thor resumes his laughter and jolly.

"Nothing," he laughs with relief.

You chuckle lowly, Natasha feelings the vibrations against her. 

"What?" She asks quietly. 

You've long finished your drink, using your free hand to wrap your arm around her waist. Pulling her closer, you turn your head so that your nose is right against the top side of her head.

"One day," you whisper in her ear so that only she may hear, "Steve will be worthy."

You finish with kissing the top of her head while Natasha blinks with wide eyes, processing the information. 

"Widow?" Bruce looked over at Natasha.

The surprised look on her face dissipated as she smirked, leaning more into you as she held up her beer bottle.

"Oh, no, no," she shakes her head, taking a sip of the beer, "that's not a question I need answered."

The jokes go around some more about how the hammer is rigged until Thor stands up. 

He grabs and lifts the hammer with ease, tossing it in his hand.

"Yes, well, that's, uh, a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one," Thor smiles, "You're not all worthy."

Everyone groans good-naturedly, even with someone throwing some chips at Thor. 

Suddenly, there's a loud screech. 

Everyone hunches over as they cover their ears. With your super hearing, the screeching is even more painful to your ears. 

When the noise fades, and everyone slowly gets up, you look over at David, who is staring behind you. 

You turn over to see a limping...robot? Wires were hanging out everywhere, and he looked like a scrap of junk metal. 

"Worthy... No... How could you be worthy? You're all killers," it slowly spoke. 

"Stark," Steve called with a little bite in his tone.

"JARVIS," Tony called, but nothing replied. 

"I'm sorry. I was asleep. Or...I was a-dream?" It tilted its head.

Tony pulls out his device, tapping on it as he looks like the monstrosity before them. "Reboot. Legionnaire OS. we got a buggy suit."

Nothing seems to be working even as Tony taps away.

The robot stumbles forward, tilting its head downwards. "There was a terrible noise...and I was tangled in... in...strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy."

"You killed somebody?" Steve asks, narrowing his eyes.

You look over to David, who is staring at the robot. He's doing his best to scan it, but you know he needs to touch it to deactivate it. 

"I didn't hear anyone in this building die. Did you?" You speak fast and quiet.

"No, I think that thing did something to JARVIS. JARVIS is supposed to be the first line of defense, but JARVIS isn't responding," David spoke back. 

Suddenly, you hear a playback recording of Tony saying he sees a suit of armor around the world.

"I'm starting to feel like we should've had our conversation earlier," you mumble while David scrunches his nose.

"Ultron!" Bruce calls out in realization. 

"In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this...chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission," Ultron's voice stutters, but you're sure it's just the suit falling apart. 

"What mission?" Natasha asks, and you can see everyone reading their guns.

Ultron looks up, his movements are stiff, but he looks back at everyone. 

"Peace in our time," Ultron says before Legion bots smash through the wall and begin to attack everyone in the room. 

You immediately cover Natasha, landing atop of her. You can hear guns being fired as you look back down at your girlfriend.

"You know, we've been in this position way too many times this week, and it's not for the activities I was hoping for," you half-joke. Natasha at least has the sense of humor to smirk at you before you pick her up and blur over to behind the bar. 

"David, go find out what you can! I got it here, but I won't be opposed if you come back!" You shout.

"Got it!" David had taken down one of the bots before he ran out of the room. Ultron had looked his way, but David was too fast to be stopped.

"This is fun, isn't it?" You asked sarcastically.

"Considering we're being attacked by robots, I'm going to say David is carrying our fucking asses," Natasha quirks her lip at you as she readies her gun.

"I resent that," you tell her. "It's true, but I resent that."

You peek your head up, looking to gauge your situation. Everyone seemed to be trying to tackle a bot on their own. You turned back to look at Natasha, who is eyeing the stairwell over to the side. 

You think it might be faster to take down Ultron, but you're not sure it will stop the bots. Not to mention, you're unsure if taking down the crickety suit that Ultron was in would even truly stop him or if he could transfer his consciousness into another bot.

You hop over the counter, immediately dodging a fire shot at you as you run at lightning speed to a legion bot, leaping in the air as you wrapped your arms around its neck, yanking it off with ease. 

It immediately powers down as you crush the head into scrap metal, bolts, and screws falling onto the floor. 

Natasha takes the chance to run to the stairwell, making her way up as she fires bullets at the bots, but the bullets seem to ricochet off, and you're not surprised since it was Tony who made them. 

You see Steve's shield on the floor, and you roll your eyes as you run over to it and pick it up, swinging it into the neck of a bot that Clint was trying to take down.

"Thanks," Clint huffs. "I was just about to give that back to Cap."

"I'm starting to feel like a boomerang would've been better than a shield," you roll your shoulders back.

"I mean, it's got the perfect shot, apparently. It can ricochet back to him..." Clint shrugs.

"And yet, it was here on the floor."

You turn your body over.

"Steve!" You call out, grabbing his attention. He turns is head as you throw his shield towards him. "You mind giving me a lift?"

He catches his shield, bracing it against his body, angled towards the ceiling as you run towards him. He seems surprised by the speed as you leap onto the shield, and Steve propels you upward.

You use the momentum to leap onto the bot floating in mid-air. It tries to use its arm to grab you, but you grab it with brute force as you rip it off from its body. You quickly then grab the head and rip it off. It powers down and begins to fall, and you adjust your position so that your feet are in the middle of its chest, crushing the body entirely as you land on the floor. 

You still see a couple half-baked bots flying around, and you sigh. 

A bot catches your attention from the corner of your eye as you see one flying towards Dr. Cho. It looks like it's about to shoot at her, but it lowers its weapon for some reason instead. 

You're about to go save her when you see David come in from the side, merely touching the bot, and it powers down before David punches a hole through its chest.

He turns around, smirking at you before he takes off, taking care of the rest of the bots in the same manner. It's only seconds before all the bots have been deactivated, and David comes to stand before Ultron.

"Well, that was dramatic!" Ultron tilts his head as he looks at you and David. "And who might you be? You're not part of the Avengers."

"You won't find anything about us regardless of where you look," David shakes his head. "You can't win against us. Me, in particular."

Ultron seems to pause before continuing on. "I'm sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve?"

He picks up one of the dismembered Iron Legion bots, holding it between his hands. "With these? These puppets? What a joke." 

Ultron looks straight ahead at everyone. "There's only one path to peace: The Avengers' extinction."

Thor immediately throws his hammer towards Ultron.

"Wait!" David yells, taking off after the hammer, but he's a second too late when the hammer crashes into Ultron, dismantling his body. 

The lights begin to dim as he fades. As he disappears, Ultron sings his last words. 

"I had strings, but now I'm free. There are no strings on me...no strings on me."

"Fuck," David sighs. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Everyone stood inside the lab, looking at the broken bot bodies, and other various things. 

The scepter was gone too. 

"It's all gone," Bruce sounded devasted. "Ultron cleared out everything."

"Not everything," David mussed his hair. "He's been in everything, though. Files and surveillance, he may know more about all of you than you know about yourselves. I'm surprised you keep everything on hand here with such shitty encryption."

"Hey!" Tony shouted indignantly, but David shrugged.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't catch him in time when he got dismantled. I destroyed all the bots in here so he couldn't transfer his consciousness, but he escaped into the internet. It'll take some time for me to track him down." 

"He got into your files, he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?" James stood to the side with his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Nuclear codes?" Maria realized.

"Nuclear codes," James nodded. "Looks, we gotta make some calls, assuming we still can."

David waved his hand. "I already took care of that. I got into the system, and the codes are continually being scrambled. The algorithm changes every minute. Though, I do suggest you make your calls and figure out the best way to handle that."

"You hacked the Pentagon," James said in disbelief.

"Trust me, I wouldn't have been the first," David looked unimpressed.

"That is true," Tony nods, knowing he's done it himself.

"I'll be right back," James pulled out his cell.

"I'll go with you," Maria took off with him. 

"Nukes?" Natasha turned around, crossing her arms. You'd given her your sweater to wear, and she pulled it closer to her body. "He said he wanted us dead."

"Not dead," Steve jumped in. "He said extinct."

"He also said he killed somebody," Clint recalled.

"Was there anyone else in the building?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Tony frowned. "There was."

He pulled up a 3D image of JARVIS's destroyed consciousness. 

"This is insane," Bruce ran his hand through his hair as he looked at the fragmented pieces.

"JARVIS was supposed to be our first line of defense. He would've stopped Ultron, it makes sense."

"Not if Ultron assimilated him," Bruce shook his head. "This wasn't a strategy, this was...rage."

"I wouldn't worry about JARVIS too much," David shook his head as he circled around the 3D image.

"What do you mean?" Bruce looked at David. "He was completely obliterated."

"No," David shook his head. "He wasn't."

David walks over to the computer, shooting up a holographic screen.

"I had some help scrambling the nuclear launch codes," David began typing away. 

"Help?" Tony squinted his eyes as he moved to stand next to David.

"JARVIS, the clever little bastard he is, managed to erase his memory and scatter himself all over the internet," David gave a small smirk.

"So, he's a little bit everywhere..." Tony said quietly, nodding to himself.

"Yep," David confirmed. "It'll take me some time to find and collect him. I have a lot of other things on my plate."

"Told you," Natasha whispered as you had your arm around her waist, hips touching. "Carrying our asses."

"Damn straight! Overworked and underpaid here!" David yelled, clearly hearing her, and you rolled your eyes. 

"You can always ditch her and come work for me. I offer quite a competitive salary and comprehensive benefits," Tony smiles. 

"I would rather saw my leg off, but thank you," David answers without looking at him as he continues to work.

"Well, I--" Tony starts, but suddenly Thor flies in straight for Tony, grabbing him by his neck and lifting him up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's going around," Clint's eyes go wide.

"Come on, buddy, use your words," Tony gasps through the hold on his neck.

"Oh, I have plenty of words to describe you, Stark," Thor glares.

"Thor! The legionnaire," Steve redirects his attention. Thor drops Tony, but not before giving a displeased look at him.

"The trail went cold about a hundred miles out, but it's headed north, and it has the scepter," Thor told Steve, but then turned his head back at Stark. "Now, we have to retrieve it. Again."

Thor's tone was miffed, and as he should be, he was annoyed.

"I don't understand," Dr. Cho looked at the metal parts before turning to look at Tony. "You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?"

Tony bursts out into laughter, and you feel like it only reinforces your thoughts about how he's becoming...unhinged. 

"You think this is funny?" Thor asks with a grimace.

Bruce is just shaking his head at Tony, trying to get him to knock it off.

"No, it's probably not, right?" Tony says, but he's still laughing. "Is this very terrible? Is it so...is it so...it is. It's so terrible."

"This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand," Thor lifts his hammer and points it at Tony disapprovingly.

"No, I'm sorry," Tony stops laughing, seemingly sobering up. "I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this."

"A hoot?" You mumble as you furrow your brows. 

"I don't think this the time for this, Tony..." Bruce murmurs from the side of his mouth as he's still trying to shake his head.

"Really?!" Tony exclaims in disbelief as he looks at Bruce. "That's it? Someone snarls at you, and you show your belly and give up?"

"Yeah, if I created a murder bot," Bruce points out.

"We didn't!" Tony argues. "We weren't even close. We weren't close to an interface, were we?"

"Now, don't shy away from responsibility," David cuts in as he turns to face everyone, leaning against the desk. "That's an unattractive quality."

"Who asked you?" Tony scrunched his nose.

"No one, but since I'm doing nearly all the work, I'll say whatever the fuck I want," David smiles. 

"Oops," you mumbled, drawing Natasha's attention, "here he goes."

"You created this AI program. Maybe you weren't close to an interface for it, but you should've planned for in case it went sentient. What? Your only goal for this AI program was to maintain peace for the earth?" David scoffs. "You're an absolute moron because you know what Ultron's going to come to the conclusion of? Humans are bad for the earth."

"You're absolutely insane," Tony shakes his head. "That's not what I intended for the program. The program is meant to protect the earth."

"Perhaps that was your intention," you cut in, letting go of Natasha as you stood straighter. "But it's clear that Ultron has deviated from your intentions. Protecting the earth is one thing, but you've forgotten what you're truly trying to protect: the people living on the earth."

"The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD," Steve sighs, and you shrugged.

"Does anyone remember when I carried that nuke through the wormhole?" Tony blinks in disbelief at everyone.

"No, never came up," James entered the room, catching the last of the conversation.

"You know, when I saved all of New York," Tony looks around.

"Never heard of it," James deadpanned.

"Remember? When we had a hostile alien army coming through a fucking hole in the sky from space. We were standing three hundred feet below it," Tony points at the ground. He looks at everyone. "We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all day, no problem. But that up there? That's...that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?

"Together," Steve tells him, and Tony looks like he wants to laugh again.

"We'll lose," he tells Steve.

"Then we do that together too," Steve says somberly, and Tony just stares at Steve.

"Not that we would lose," David shrugs.

"You actually think that we'd win?" Tony asks in disbelief, truly thinking David is an idiot.

"You're Ultron's creator, and unfortunately, you've put the worst parts of your personality and paranoia into him," you defend David, shaking your head as you spoke.

"I don't think an alien invasion that actually happened and could happen again would be considered paranoia," Tony quirked his brow.

"There's no doubt there's a possibility that it could happen again," You shrug your shoulders. "But you assume that The Avengers is the be-all, end-all, that you're the be-all, end-all. You assume that you guys are the only people in this world that can fight whatever shit humans can't handle. David and I are literal proof that other supernatural or mutants exist. There are the twins out there too."

You tilt your head. "I know this is your team, your friends, but even if we lose, there's always going to be a new generation of people who will stand up and fight. Each generation of heroes will be better than the next. We do what we can as superheroes, but we don't need perfection to achieve peace."

"I'm not a superhero," Tony shakes his head.

You give him a light smile. "Could've fooled me."

Tony just stares at you before sighing. 

"Alright," Steve claps his hands. "Ultron is calling us out. I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place, let's try and make it smaller."

Everyone dispersed, and David came up to you, scratching the back of his head.

"I'm gonna head back to my place to grab a few things, and shower before coming back," he tells you. "What are you doing to do?"

You ran your gloved fingers through your hair and licked your bottom lip. 

"Probably head back to my place too to get a few things. I'll check a physical trail for Ultron if you give me a lead," you sigh. 

"You going to use your gift?" David gives you a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah," you grumble. David pats your shoulder before he leaves.

The room has mostly cleared out except for Steve. 

You feel someone hold your hand, and you turn to Natasha. 

"You're going to investigate?" She asks you, and you nod.

"Need company? I think between David and Tony, they've got the digital trail covered."

You smile at her as you curl your fingers around her hand.

"Can't think of anyone better to accompany me," you lift her hand to kiss the back of it. "C'mon, I'll take you back to my place. We can check in on Allison too."

Natasha smiles as she squeezes your hand.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Familiar. 

It's been days since they've escaped the base in Sokovia out in the cold. 

It's been so long since she's seen the street markets, she almost feels foreign to it. 

Yet, even as she tries to enjoy the freedom she now has, her mind keeps drifting. 

"Wanda."

Wanda snaps her head over to Pietro.

"What?" 

"Are you okay? I've been calling you for a couple minutes," Pietro frowns as he tries to assess his younger sister's well-being.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Wanda waves her hand. "It's just weird being out after being inside for so long."

Pietro hums, agreeing. 

"Come," he says, "We're almost at the church to meet whoever is reaching out to us."

Wanda nods as Pietro turns to keep walking.

Wanda clenches her jaw, willing herself to focus on the mission before her. She doesn't understand what's wrong with her. 

It had started when she met up with Pietro again after she had let Tony Stark take the scepter. 

Once they escaped, the images from Pietro hit her.

It had been brief. Wanda was still learning to control her gift, and sometimes that meant she accidentally looked into Pietro's mind. 

But still, she saw you and hasn't been able to get the image of you out of her head since.

Wanda hadn't told her brother. After all, it was clear that while he did find you interesting, he wasn't fascinated by you like she was. Even if she did tell him, she wouldn't know how to explain it anyways. 

She kept replaying Pietro's interaction with you over, and over, and over again. 

Wanda's replayed it so much, she's almost convinced she was standing there too.

Familiar. 

You were beautiful, no doubt, probably the most beautiful woman Wanda had ever seen. 

But it was like she'd known you before, but that wasn't the case. Wanda would've remembered you if she had. 

Wanda wishes she had been in Pietro's place when he met you. You were clearly different if you were able to keep up with him.

It'd be easier to understand--to know you if she had been the one there.

But she knew she'd eventually meet you.

Because Wanda only had one goal.

And that was to ruin Tony Stark and his little bandwagon of superheroes.

While Wanda may be curious about you, she's convicted to her goal, and if you were truly with the Avengers...

Wanda would ruin you too.

PART IX

#mm: my fics #series: between the lines #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #black widow imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch imagine #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanoff x you x wanda maximoff #natasha x you x wanda #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert

[emmi-kat]

SPG Kazooland Master Post

Kazooland is the alternate dimension in the Steam Powered Giraffe Universe.  This post contains various facts and tidbits mentioned by David and Bunny Bennett about it on tumblr and the official SPG websites over the years.  Please feel free to share more information in the reblogs!

Kazooland was named for the mentor of David Bennett, Bunny Bennett, Jon Sprague, Erin Burke, and Bryan Barbarin, Mr.Jerry Hager's mime persona: Kazoo the Mime

By 1897, Peter Walter had unlocked the power of Blue Matter and   subsequently, created an alternate reality he dubbed   Kazooland.

Excerpt from The Story of the Cavalcadium

The Cavalcadium tried to  make a permanent portal to Kazooland in their building, based on Peter Walter I’s studies.

The  Cavalcadium was wiped from existence in an instant, and it took Peter  a few months to realize it had simply vanished. Time and space itself  left a void to forget it ever was.     

The  Cavalcadium building now exists in the seams of Kazooland, and acts  as a hub to many other parts of the dimension. A few doorways even exist on Earth.          

Current link to the map of Kazooland: https://www.thecavalcadium.com/Kazooland.html

Information available about Kazooland as late as 2014

  Asininia*             The dark kingdom of Ignatius Becile. Long having taken refuge from Earth, the   black-handed Becile has built a giant city which is depleting Asininia of its   natural resources and precious rock candy veins. His aim is creating an   unstoppable army of candy-powered automatons to consume the universe.

*name is derived from “asinine”

The 8th Dimension of Absolute and Infinite Terror           The only persistent door to the  terrible 8th dimension. Its history is unclear but it is indeed locked and guarded by Jumbo, The Pink Whale With A Top  Hat.* The 8th dimension is notorious for being the place of fermenting  nightmares and evil Lovecraftian Beasts.

*Jumbo can be found in the album The Vice Quadrant, guarding Commander Cosmo and The Necrostar

Horroria

A jagged mountain range of ash and  death, which is primarily a refuge for monsters. A couple of human  settlements exist, but the majority of inhabitants of the continent  are Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, Zombies, Witches, Cultists,  Poltergeists, Man-Eating Hamburgers, and Hamburger-Eating Men.

Hypexion V     

A presumed alien homeworld of the  Hypexions; thin bipedal humanoids with a sweet tooth.

Ironically Foreboding Shaped Islands     

The Chaos Sea marks these bodies of  land as a legend, but time travelers and fortunate explorers speak of  adventurous sailors, pirates, and buried treasure. It is  believed the famous Captain Albert Alexander was the first to have  sailed the Chaos Sea, yet only stories remain.

Lola     

The Hypexion Moon infested with the  diabolical Moon Worms. The Moon Worm Queen is held responsible for  eating a chunk of Hypexion V before she was destroyed, but a newly  born Moon Worm Queen is the talk among the stars. The   talking stars of course.

Lotsasand     

An ancient dust land belonging to the  ancestors of the Kingdom of Set. Though primarily a land for the  outsourcing of dust and camels, the age old tales of Jackal Men,  Living Mummies, and Scarab People still invoke questions of mysticism  in even the most skeptical of skeptics.

Meh     

An icy northern land of Snow Queens and  Mystical Creatures. Many a wise pipe smoking old bearded man tell  stories about this enchanted place, but few are listened to.

Merveille

Merveille is the remains of the once  great Circus Empire, which exploded eons ago and left a watercolored  land of saturated imagination. The inhabitants are mostly the  Speechless Ones, also known as Mimes. It is often described as a  tangible dream, and artists from all over the multiverse have tapped  into its presence for inspiration and escape.

Cities:                    Bip

The capital of  Merveille was named after its founder, and is a favorite spot for  vacation for Peter Walter VI. It was also in Bip that the Great War of 1823 was ended by a mysterious mime with a magical  kazoo.

New Pieland    

Once a paradise of wilderness, pilgrims  from Old Pieland settled here declaring it New Pieland after their  former continent was completely devoured since it actually lived  up to its namesake. It was quite literally a giant land mass of flaky  crust with a warm gooey appley interior.

New Pieland is home to many American immigrants and many other multiverse settlers.  Humans, Robots, Clowns, Cat People, and Vleeds are just a few of the races you'll find in the melting pot which is New Pieland.

Cities:                    Biscuit Town

Biscuit Town is a famous small  mining town in the eastern part of New Pieland. It is home   primarily to clowns, wizards, and talking animals. Biscuit Town has   been run by Walter Robot The Jon until recently, and was the first  town in New Pieland to elect a robot for Mayor. Currently, in  the Jon's absence the Mayor's Assistant Boft is  struggling with the encroaching rogue nation of Asininia, a  resource-hungry super kingdom of mad scientists and candy-powered  androids.    Preferbia   This large sprawling landscape   of suburbia is a metropolis of 1950's ideals, where the  beautiful residents are protected from the ravages of time by a blue  matter rich force field over the city. Created by a visionary man  from Earth after slipping through an interdimensional rift, Howard  Lloyd saw the potential of the unstable rift and created what some  have called the 1950s utopia of mankind. Those who enter  the city rarely decide to leave the prospect of eternal youth, but  some do choose to escape Preferbia's roving gangs of fish mutants and  frequent attacks by the Hypexion Moon Worms.

Snornia

Snornia is the last remaining haven for  mystical beings. It is cut off from the rest of the world by a  vengeful Dragon God, but those who have seen it speak of a fantastical world of magic and danger, with princesses in towers,   dexterous elves making shoes, and six winged warlocks. Humans  who find ways to enter usually do so to train to become wizards or  dragons, but many are eaten by the Dragon God, and even more give up  and sail to Party Island.

South Adventurica

A largely unexplored tangle of   constantly transforming jungles, swamps, and plains unbound by  any mappable record of time. Adventurers have sought to unlock the   continent's mysteries for years, and its surprises still continue to   surprise avid surprise seekers. Dinosaurs, giant insects, carnivorous   plants, elementals, Forgotten Gods, Bobby Darin, and Santa Claus are   all said to live here, but the only proof of their existence are the   ravaged journals from explorers of the past...

And that captured dinosaur amusement  park off the coast.

Verk     

A rainy settlement of time travelers  from the 1890s. It is separated from the world by an ethereal mist of  aether called "Henry's Breath," long believed to be   generated by the fat ghost of England's Henry the 8th.  Most settlers began traversing the aether via multidimensional  travel from when Colonel P. A. Walter I discovered Blue Matter in  1896, but all matter of being from the multiverse seems to have  leaked through to embrace knowledge, Victorian style, and to tinker with steampunk abominations.

Cities:                    Dandyton

The Capital of Verk is a bustling city  of inventors, scientists, airship pilots, alchemists, airship pilots,  ghosts, and airship pilots. It is home to the Verk Dandy Candy  Factory, many airships, and the Verkian Rift, a dimensional  hub to countless other realities.

The (old) Cavalcadium landing page including links to Worlds (Earth, Kazooland, and the 8th Dimension), Characters, and Species

Characters include (but are not limited to): Beebop, Bip, Boft, Brown Suits, Buster Becile, Captain Albert Alexander, Delilah, Doc Laborday, G. G., Guy Hottie, Hatchworth,The Highwayman, I. M. Becile, Kazoo, Lily Brennan, Lorene Keaton, Norman Becile, Peter Walter I, Peter Walter II, Peter Walter III, Peter Walter IV, Peter Walter V, Peter Walter VI, Rabbit, Rex Marksley, The Jon, The Spine, The Suspender Man, Uncle Ralphie, Upgrade, and Wanda Becile

Species include (but are not limited to): Robots, Samurai, Scarab  People, Seafarers, Steampunks, Talking  Animals, Trolls, Vampires, Vleeds, Warlocks, Werewolfs, Witchs, Wizards, and Zombies

The Temecula Rift

Prior to the 2013 Walter Robotics Expo, an accident occurred while 26 y/o Peter Walter VI accidentally sealed a Blue Matter Rift that he was trying to open for high speed inter-dimensional travel between Earth and Kazooland.  The result was an explosion that singularly hit Peter Walter VI in his face.  He now wears an iconic keyhole mask to hide whatever the results of the explosion may have been.

Links:

https://pawaltervi.tumblr.com/post/49702485000/regarding-the-temecula-rift

https://pawaltervi.tumblr.com/post/51763873084/walter-robotics-owner-peter-walter-vi-hospitalized

https://pawaltervi.tumblr.com/post/52636220497/a-message-from-peter-walter-vi

Audio posts of Isabella Bennett discussing Kazooland Canon circa 2015:

Kazooland Canon 1/3

Kazooland Canon 2/3

Kazooland Canon 3/3

Rabbit’s white faceplates are made from a porcelain-like material from Kazooland called Impossium

#spg #spgiraffe #steam powered giraffe #kazooland #lore masterpost #lore

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Poisoned.”

Got this idea from a comment or ask someone made. hope this iw what they had in mind :)

Another galactic summit, more issues to deal with, and more problems to discuss, not the largest being the Burg war, and the attack on earth. Though it had been thwarted by the planet’s natural hellish landscape, there were still discussions to be made about whether the Rundi and the Vrul would help to provide a defense Nexus to the remaining planets. As well as disaster relief on the gromm home world.

The rundi home world at the GA summit chambers were, once again, rife with alien lifeforms. It was also, once again, rife with Rundi underlings who were trying very hard not to freak out with all the duties that were being placed on their backs.

At least one thing was made clear, there was no pint in getting human food for the summit, since the human delegates always insisted on trying all the other alien food. Leave enough of the nectar orbs from the Drev home world out, and that seemed to keep the humans happy enough.

Dr. Krill accompanied the Commander into the summit as was usual. Sunny was not with them today, seeing as she had work to do back aboard the ship

That left just the two of them.

Felt almost like old times.

The captain was dressed up in his fancy UNSC uniform, and as such, he was obligated to behave.

Apparently behaving didn’t mean avoiding arguments with his most important doctor, who --despite being a complete genius-- was hardly capable of getting the captain to agree with him.

“I just think that there should be better security at these things. All of the most important people in the galaxy are here.”

“Krill,  there is an entire armada outside, I hardly think we need to worry about being attacked by the burg. Besides, their attack on earth completely broke their spirits. There is no way they would try getting in here.”

Krill crossed both sets of arms, “I disagree, Commander. I have been looking into human history of warfare, and I Think that a spy could easily-”

“Krill calm down will you. Besides, species rely on the fact that you can disguise yourself to look like the other side. The Burg are so fugly that they'd be noticed in half an instant.

They came around the corner, and the Commander was nearly knocked onto his back as an Iotin brushed past hurrying from the banquet hall.

The Commander tripped back into a wall, “Woah watch….yourself.” The Iotin disappeared around the next corner, and the Commander looked after him with a frown, “Didn’t know those guys could move that fast. Wonder why he could be in such a hurry.”

Krill waved it off as the Commander poked his head into the banquet room, “Oh look, pink orbs!”

“Commander, don’t you think we should wait until after the summit, when the food is being served.”

The man waved a hand, “Oh no one will notice one missing.”

He quickly snuck into the room and Krill rolled his eyes as the man came out munching on one of the pink fruits.

“And they made you leader of the fleet.”

“Technically they are thinking of making me leader of the entire Galactic armada, but I digress.”

“Lord help us all.”

The captain made a face.

“What it’s true.”

The man shook his head, “No, not you, this fruit tastes…. Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird.”

He shrugged and took another bite, “Not bad enough for me to stop eating it, so good weird I guess.”

He stuffed the rest of the orb into his mouth and licked the juices off his fingers.

Krill sighed, “I still can’t believe they would choose you.”

“Better believe it.”

The two of them walked into the main conference chamber to sit down with the other delegates. The human delegation was near the top tier, and so that is where they went, taking a seat  just to the right of the Rundi chairwoman’s box.

The entire room was alive with the sound of alien life.

Commander Vir leaned over to speak with one of the delegates and krill was left to watch the room. Most of the delegations were here, though the iotin delegation had arrived late. Seemed strange considering he had seen one of their number not long ago.

The light dimmed  a couple of times, and the chairwoman took her pedestal and began to greet the delegates. Krill looked on politely as was his want though he wasn’t entirely interested in the whole thing.

The charwoman could be rather long-winded when she got going.

He sat there through a good few minutes of it glancing over at the other human delegates on occasion. Vir looked almost sleepy, though that was almost to be expected, he was never very good at politics, even though he was involved in them so much.

He turned back to the delegation.

The commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat during a discussion about intergalactic trade laws, and Krill looked over again.

The man had taken to licking his lips repeatedly.

“Are you ok?” Krill muttered.

“Yeah fine, just thirsty.” He muttered 

Krill let it go through something made him turn back not to long after. The human was rubbing at his mouth, which appeared red, though he supposed that was supposed to be expected. Little lines of sweat were trickling down from his hairline.

He scooted a bit closer.

“Commander, are you feeling alright.”

He was waved off, “yeah, I’m ok, it just got a little hot in here as all…. Feeling kind of…. Faint. Maybe a little nauseous. I am sure I’ll be fine. Probably just need something to eat.”

The talks continued, but Krill wasn’t focused on them anymore. The commander was not looking very good. He was sweating enough that the collar of his dress shirt was almost soaked. The tint of his face had gone from healthy blush to a yellow parlor. He looked as if he was about to pass out. A few  of the other human delegates had stared to notice.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, “Commander are you feeling alright.”

“I…. I think I…. Just need to…. Walk around.”

His voice was slurred.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea commander?” Krill said turning his head to face him. 

His pupils were unusually wide despite the dark space around them.

“The human was breathing hard now, one hand over his chest. His dry mouth from earlier had gone, replaced by saliva production so excessive he was having to clear his mouth every couple of seconds.

He looked at Krill, and the expression on his face was enough.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The other delegates had leaned over sensing the commotion, and they stood to let Krill and the commander pass as he stood and wobbled his way towards the stairs. 

Krill could sense something was wrong almost immediately.

Dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea.

“Someone, help him walk.” Krill ordered not caring about the delegation anymore.

Their sudden movement had caused a bit of commotion on one side of the room. The commander paused on the stairwell, and instead of turning towards the exit, he turned towards the delegation floor. Krill tried to grab him, tried to stop him, but the human -- even in his weakened state -- was still too strong.

A muttering had grown up around the crowd as he staggered onto the floor.

The chairwoman stopped speaking looking on in confusion, “Commander, are you alright.”

The human paused at the center of the floor.

IN the main lighting he looked absolutely horrific. He was so pale his skin was almost yellow. The skin around his mouth was red. Sweat drenched the side of his face. He was drooling so badly that it was, at this point, impossible to control.

“The...food…. Has been poisoned.” He choked out through heaving breaths.

And then he collapsed to his knees vomiting violently on the white marble floor.

The entire delegation stood shock and uproar filling the room. Krill ran over to help the human whose arms and hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

The sight was horrifying. Saliva dripped in strings from his mouth. His clothing and hands were stained pink from the orb fruit from earlier. 

Krill remembered he said it tasted weird.

Could he really have been poisoned.

A couple other human delegates vaulted over the railings and onto the floor grabbing the man by the arms as his strength began to fail him. His body was shaking violently now.

Krill practically scream ordered one of the assistance to grab a medical kit.

The entire room was in an uproar.

Krill jammed his finger at the Iotin representatives, “Don’t let them leave!”

The Iotins stood in shock as the delegation turned on them. The Drev delegation, weaponless, still managed to make a circle around the group, “Someone, go grab the food, and get me a sample!”

The commander had been rolled onto his side. His body continued to reject whatever toxin it had been given, though Krill desperately tried to avoid him aspirating and choking. That only got harder once the man began to cease and convulse. He had to reduce the absorption, but he also needed to keep the man from throwing it back up.

His kit was open on the floor, and he had the others help him With the tubes and medication. Adam wouldn’t be helping him now, so he would have to get directly to the stomach himself.

He had one of the other humans hold him as he inserted the tube and began with the activated charcoal. Hopefully that would be enough before they got test results back. One of the Rundi came sprinting into the room holding one of the pink orbs handing it over to one of Krill’s assistants who was ordered to test the fruit with one of the testing strips.

They did as told and the entire group waited for the results.

When the strip turned blue, krill knew what it was. 

It was at least similar to some toxins he had seen before and attacked the central nervous system in humans through absorption in the gut. The dosage had been too high however, and while the human could potentially choke to death, much of the toxin had already been rejected by the body.

“Someone cut open his sleeve.”

The uniform was ignored as the sleeve was cut open and Krill placed an IV reaching into his kit for the antitoxin.

“You…. Just have that lying around?” one of the other humans asked.

Krill nodded, “I work with humans. I expect them to ingest stupid things that could kill them on a regular basis.”

He was calm on the outside like a doctor should be, but on the inside he was panicking horribly. The commander was not looking good.

But he placed the IV and made the injection.

“Someone test the other food. I want to know if this was planned for just the humans or for the entire delegation.

His orders were quickly followed, and they found the toxin in almost every dish that had been in the banquet hall. 

“You should be glad it was the human who took it first.” Krill was saying 

“Why is that?” The chairwoman asked 

“Because, the human body is the only one that would have noticed the poisoning before it was too late. The human brain responds to toxins that affect the central nervous system with dizziness and nausea. For any other species, you would have been dead before the symptoms kicked in.”  On the floor the human convulsions had stopped. His heart rate was depressed now, but krill was keeping an eye on it.

The Iotins were still looking around in panic as the Drev glowered at them.

“What is the meaning of this.” Their leader called.

Krill turned on them anger in every line of his body, “We saw one of you leaving the room before we entered, and they were in a hurry. So forgive me if I am a little suspicious.” 

More uproar, but the Drev kept the delegates in check.

‘Come on, Commander.” rill muttered 

If he was going to wake up, it would be in the next few minutes if only for a little bit.

One of the other humans had ripped open his uniform jacket removing his tie and pulling the coat off discarded to the side. Krill was more than grateful for their help. Even more pleased when the commander opened his eyes bleary, his pupils almost back to normal.

“What… happened.” He slurred 

“Congratulations, sir, you saved the entire delegation from death by poisoning. You’re a hero.”

He groaned, “I don’t feel like one.” he leaned his head back onto the floor, “Catch the bastards who did this for me will you.” He licked his lips, “I’m gonna pass out again.” 

And he did as promised.

Once again the human body had managed to save the day.

Because as it turns out humans are actually a lot harder to poison that one might first assume. Give them to high of a dose, and they will throw it up, give them too low of a dose and it won’t kill them. Plus the human body is very good at letting everyone know when something is wrong.

It is especially difficult to poison a human when their best friend is an experienced doctor.

Whoever had done this, had not succeeded in their end goal.

And they wouldn't likely be free for long. 

[bigowlenergy]

so nobody asked me about teddy ghost [MUCH better name than swagger bishie] but ive had a full 180 Thought on it not being an annoying bullyXvictim ship, so here it is anyway:

That not-phantom street brawler au that  @creamcloud0  and i played with.

dash and paulina have massive crushes on hot ghosts guys that they bond over while getting reamed by the rest of the A-listers and the guys on the team for being monsterfuckers. and after a while dash realizes that like. he actually is? he accepts it and starts getting into human/monster romance movies on his and kwans weekly movie night and his best friend is like. buddy, i support u. i will wingman for u so hard bro. i will flag a ghost down behind the haunted kmart for u bro. i love u bro. but thats a good way to actually for real die, so maybe dont?

and anyway, dash figures actual ghosts are off limits but still really hot so he just starts looking at the more supernatural people in amity itself and. maybe he figures he’ll shoot his shot with jazz again - shes got ghost hunter parents, thats pretty cool. but while hes trying to flirt with her he catches sight of danny death staring him down with glowing enraged ghost eyes from across the hall and just. shuts down. hes used to ignoring or mocking the other fentons supernatural bullshit due to sheer familiarity, but this time it actually makes him fumble everything he’s holding and just. total hard crush. instant puppy love. CANNOT stop thinking about that time in chem when danny pulled out a stuck test tube stopper with his teeth and cracked it in half. or that time when he pile drove ember into the pavement and won.

like. he keeps up fucking with danny constantly just to rile him up and get him to go a little feral on dash. danny tells him to fuck off finally and dash blurts out ‘make me’ in front of god and the janitor and everybody. never lives it down.

and that makes danny go ‘oh i can work with this’ and starts messing back. is just being mean spirited and getting some petty revenge at first, teasing him with it, but the first time he really shows his teeth dash fucking swoons. and dannys like. .....i am being seen as not only attractive, but desirable BC of my monstrous traits, not in spite of them??? does not compute. gets to really be himself fully like how he can only be with tucker n sam n jazz and really loves the genuine relief of it.

dash landed the next best thing to a full ghost anyway. and dash is still kind of an asshole whos all for the Hot Big Feral Monster shit and gives danny less flack for his less than perfect moral compass and the constant ghost fist fights at odd hours.

just. accomplice/cheerleader dash egging danny on while he goes batshit insane on technus on a tuesday. the epitome of that ‘i got ur flower, kick his ass babe’ post.

they are, hands down, the weirdest couple in amity.

fini

#unsolicieted ship opinion #but i could not stay quiet on this issue any longer #teddy ghost #swagger bishie #danny phantom #dash baxter #the whole show is just shitty one dimensional stereotype characters #might as well go buckwild with it #also idk if u wanted to be tagged?? #seemed polite at the time #thank u for the au fuel

[ameliasdefend]

3 AM

Hey! So im new around here, and lately Ive been reading amelink fanfics, and I got inspired to start writing fanfics again after 2 years. My writing skills are reaaaallly rusty, so I dont know what this is, but I do hope you guys will enjoy it<3

Written in Maggie and Winston’s POV, set shortly after 17x06

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Maggie Pierce’s laughter broke the silence of the deathly stillness of the night in the city of Seattle. It was 3 am, so the streets outside of the house she shared with her sisters, was awfully quiet. Her boyfriend, Winston had just cracked a joke that made her burst into a laughing fit, cracking the serenity of the atmosphere.

“You’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood!”, Winston teased, trying to hold back his own laughter but to no avail. They came from the hotel Maggie was living at temporarily to get some stuff from her room. Since the pandemic was still showing no signs of slowing down, she might have to stay at the hotel longer than expected. She was not complaining though; since Winston’s unexpected arrival, nights in the hotel were not as lonely and depressing as before.

Maggie took in deep breaths to calm herself, and her laughter eventually ceased.

Grinning at her boyfriend, she led the way onto the pavement of Meredith’s house towards the front door. “We’ll be in and out. Don’t make any noise, or you’ll wake up the kids. Amelia will kill us.” Maggie whispered in a serious tone.

“Oh, so now you want to be quiet?”

Maggie rolled her eyes and lightly slapped his shoulder, feigning annoyance. “You’re the one who made me laugh.” She said as a matter-of-factly, earning a chuckle from Winston.

“Now hushhhh.” Maggie unlocked the door, turning the knob slowly, and carefully pushing the door open. The living room was dark, as expected. It was 3 am, so everyone must be asleep.

Or....not.

A familiar sound of soft giggles floated from the brightly illuminated kitchen. Maggie turned to look over her shoulder at Winston who was arching his eyebrows— a questioning look painted his face. He then frowned his brows and started sniffing the air. “Do you smell that babe?” Maggie took a long wisp of the air, closing her eyes slowly as a sweet-smelling aroma filled her nostrils.

“Is that chocolate?” she whispered, making her way towards the source of the good smell, Winston trailing behind.

Upon entering the kitchen, she gasped. “Since when do you guys bake??” Maggie exclaimed in shocked as the scene in the kitchen unfolded in front of her eyes.

Her sister, Amelia, clad in a yellow apron, with her shoulder-length hair tied up in a messy bun, was spooning what looked like a very creamy, fudge-y chocolate cake into her boyfriend’s mouth. They stood behind the kitchen island, of which the surface was heavily powdered white with flour, occupied with baking trays, milk cartons, pieces of chocolate bars, and several other baking tools Maggie has never seen anyone use in this house.

The couple paused their movements and turned to look at Maggie, whose face was in utter disbelief.

It would have been a rather funny sight, if not for the absurdity of the whole scenario, with the spoon of cake that Amelia was holding in Link’s mouth, their chocolate smudged faces, and their puzzled expressions from being interrupted by Maggie’s dramatic entrance.

“Um... hello to you too,” Amelia said amusingly as she turns her gaze back to Link and finished feeding him the bite of cake. She took a napkin and lightly dabbed away the chocolate smudges on the corners of his mouth, smiling gently up at him before facing Maggie once again.

“What are you doing here?” Amelia let out a small laugh.

“We came to get some stuff from Maggie’s room”, Winston, who had been silently watching the sisters’ comical exchange replied.

Amelia’s eyes snapped towards him in surprise. Her attention had been focused on Maggie that she hadn’t noticed his presence.

Noting her surprised look, Winston realized that this was the first time they met in person. He offered her a smile, placing his hand across his chest and bowed slightly, the new ‘handshake’ in the Covid era. “It’s nice to finally be able to meet the two of you in person.”

Amelia smiled back; a sheepish grin etched across her face. “Likewise.” Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom, making him feel a little self-conscious and awkward. When her eyes met his again, she let out a light chuckle. “Welppp, you’re way hotter in person. It’s a wonder how Maggie could do the whole long-distance thing. I could never.” Winston wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, so he ended making eye contact with Link.

“It’s true.” Link nodded, swallowing the cake in his mouth. “Here, wanna try some cake?” Link nodded his head towards the cake in front of him. Winston couldn’t help but smile at the easy-going nature of Amelia and Link. Although he didn’t really know them yet, he could tell that they were very warm and light-hearted people.

“Did you guys really bake that yourselves?” Maggie asked, still curious as to how this baking session came about. She rounded the kitchen table, coming to stand in between Amelia and Link, and facing the perfectly round-shaped chocolate fudge cake. She bent down so her eyes were leveled with the top of the cake. “It’s perfect...” she muttered, examining the cake closely.

“Maggie, it that shocking that we can bake?” Amelia asked her sister, pursing her lips in mocked annoyance.

Maggie straightened herself, her eyes still on the cake which looked too good to be true. “I mean, kind of.... but only because you’ve never baked before.”

“It was an impulse decision. We thought of doing something fun and since Bailey’s birthday is coming soon, baking a cake seemed like a good idea.” Amelia explained. “Want some? It’s really good.”

“No thanks”, Maggie replied, shaking her head. “I’d love some but maybe later… when the sun is up. It’s 3 am, why are you guys even baking at this time?” she asked, looking from Amelia to Link.

“The kids are asleep, so we get to do what we want without their strong tiny arms dragging us away for something.” Link told her. “They’re monsters in disguise as cute little humans,” he muttered, before spooning another bite of the cake. Amelia just nodding in agreement.

Maggie moved from between them, rounding the table again to stand next to Winston, “Well then, shouldn’t you guys be getting some sleep?”

“What even is sleep?”, Amelia and Link said flatly together. They locked eyes, amused at their synchronized answer. A small chuckle coming from both sides.

She knew her nieces and nephew can be a lot, and on top of having to care for a new-born, Amelia and Link were sleep-deprived. And yet, they were baking, and laughing at the wee hours in the morning. A-dork-able. Maggie felt a small smile crept onto her face, as she observed how happy her sister was. If she knew Amelia at all, deep down her heart was aching for Meredith and maybe her mind was spiraling with constant fear and worry. And if that was really the case, it didn’t show. At least, not at this moment. All Maggie saw was her bright smile, and loving eyes as she looked up at Link.

With the way they were looking at each other, Maggie now felt like she and Winston were third-wheeling on them. Before they could start kissing or getting all gushy feelings, Maggie turned to Winston, motioning for Winston to follow her to the stairs. “Well, we’re heading upstairs. Enjoy the cake,” she called over her shoulder, but she was certain they weren’t listening to her anymore.

As they tiptoed up the stairs, Winston whispered into her ear, “They look happy.”

“Yeah...” Maggie whispered back, a wide grin slowly forming on her lips. Her mind wandered around, thinking of how happy Amelia was…

“Do you think we’ll ever get on their level?”, Winston’s playful voice interrupted her blissful thoughts.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” She teased.

#amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelink #amelink fanfic #maggie pierce #winston ndugu #magston #greys anatomy

[obeymeluv]

Hi lovely! I’m not sure if your requests are open but I just worked out for the first time since ive gotten super depressed! It might not be that big of a deal but can I get some geadcannons on how the brothers would react to this? (: (their lover working out for the first time in months because of their mental illness)

I respect this so hard and am super proud of you. I have similar struggles so it always makes me happy to see someone able to get back up. Good job :) These headcanons will be short because I’m getting ready for bed and have to get into school mode, but here you go! ♥ 

Lucifer

It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake you up, or even gently start the day by sitting at your bedside and whispering sweet nothings

He opens the door soundlessly, as always, and is quite surprised to see you in the middle of doing a yoga series. Thankfully, your back is to the door

Pride blossoms in his chest and, for the first time, it doesn’t feel heavy like the burden of his sin

It’s warm and joyful and feels like an old memory of the Celestial Realm, a call back to happier days

His eyes mist over a bit but no one can confirm it

Lucifer is a perfect, beautiful statue that watches for a few poses before slowly inching back towards the doorway to peek around the corner

Pretends like he never saw anything when you go about the rest of your day, but is absolutely glowing when he looks at you.

Lavishes you in his fancy praise, as always. (”You look enchanting, my love. Simply radiant today.”)

Mammon

He’ll deny it to the day he dies, but he craves your company.

Actually, he’s more likely to admit it when you’re in a depressive episode because you’re tender and vulnerable and that’s how he really is when he lets his guard down. That’s when people need the most love, and you’ve put him back together so much that he wants to repay the favor 1,000x fold

Mammon’s very surprised to see you running careful laps up one set of stairs and down the set on the other end of the hallway (that explains why it took him so long to find you).

It’s like speed walking. He watches for a lap and a half to make sure you’re not rushing off anywhere. You know, making sure nothing’s serious

When he realizes you’re exercising in earnest he’s super stoked. Like, #1 hype man.

“That’s my human! Yeah!” Mammon becomes your cheerleader

Drops sly comments about how it’s actually a good glute workout and he’ll give you a massage afterwards

Keeps up with you more than you’d expect (models train hard, okay?) but does get bored. Maintains cheer position

Carries you around the rest of the day when your legs are sore

Levi

Levi had to do a fair bit of research on depression when he realized you weren’t converting to being a fellow otaku shut-in

The two of you still enjoyed cuddle times, and sometimes he could engage you in games, but the health of his beloved was important! Humans couldn’t be without exercise for too long or it would be bad for them

It’s super awkward but he tries to invite you swimming and things. Sometimes you just don’t have the energy. He understands, and is totally down for cuddling you (with partial back rubs) while playing games

Makes sure you eat and definitely splits his rations

Enjoys the small walks from his room to yours, and makes sure you guys drift between them a couple of times a day. That helps humans, right?

Levi realizes fairly quickly that you haven’t been to his room in a while and goes to check on you

You’re hopping in patterns across the floor, slowly making your way to his room.

You look like you’re having fun!

He’s not sure what you’re doing, but you hop, you squat, then you lunge.

You lock eyes with Levi mid-lunge and wobble a bit. He’s a little pink in the face, but because he’s laughing in sheer delight at how spooked you looked.

You end up flopping over and Levi crouches beside you, offering his hand

When he hears you finally had a burst of energy and wanted to work out, to start over again, he’s very proud of you

May or may not have compared you to Henry and shared some of the more harrowing moments the hero went through (also how he’s awesome and came back better than ever!)

Invites you for a swim and you actually accept

After some laps and splashing about, you spend time floating and cuddling

Satan

Depression is sometimes just a thing humans go through, Satan is finding out.

Between Devildom books and human books, he kind of understands

It’s a thing of time, and sometimes other methods help. He personally thinks the lack of sun in the Devildom is the main culprit

Gives you healthy snacks and tracks down vitamins

Tries to get you to walk the gardens but realizes he can’t force it

Sometimes he gets you outside, reading under trees and lanterns

Satan roamed the House of Lamentation, intending to steal you for another outside reading session, and was surprised to find you out there already

He watched from a high window, peeking tentatively from behind the thick curtain, and let the amused smile cut his lips

Suddenly, you disappeared out of sight. Satan waited for what felt like ages until the logic of ‘the fastest way between Point A and B is a straight line’ kicked in. He held his book carefully, unlatched the window, and jumped out

Demons have good joints and sturdier bodies. The drop and landing was nothing for him.

He calls your name and starts walking around.

It’s not until he’s made a full lap and you’re giggling (behind him somehow?) that he realizes you’re just leisurely walking laps around the house

Super embarrassed that he got worried (and that you ended up behind him). Jumps when you touch his shoulders or if you hugged him around the waist

You’re happy and...yourself for the first time in a while and Satan’s heart is so happy. Before you can break the hug, he twines his fingers with yours and just holds your hand to his body

Eventually you break away, kiss his shoulders, and start a game of tag that turns into sky-watching, and laying on his chest as he reads 

Asmodeus

He knows how to break hearts but he ALSO knows how to fix him

He’s always trying to get his brothers to hang out and make good memories. Despite what he says and how he acts, he really cares for them from the bottom of his heart

You count, too. You’re like, top tier. Basically family. VIP space. Maybe SPOUSE space (but that’s too fast for a human, right?)

Though rare and private, Asmo has his bad days, too. They can either be fixed, or they can’t. Usually things are just distractions. The heart will heal in its own time.

Asmo went to your room with the latest round of pampering but stopped short of announcing himself. Does he hear...music?

Nudging the door open with his foot, his eyes light up so pink the gradient is disappearing.

You’re dancing and humming, making faces at yourself in the mirror.

His heart clenches with a beautiful pain because you’re so vibrant and lively and he knows it was hard for you to find this again

The pampering is abandoned for an impromptu PRIVATE dance party

Silly and sweet things, waltzing and just being close, hugging as you sway side to side

Lots of forehead kisses and pet names.

Beelzebub

He didn’t think your behavior was out of the ordinary since Belphie slept a lot.

Beel is always motivated by something--food, sports, working out, family stuff--so he’s not familiar with the lack of desire to do anything

When he learns you’re not just catching up on sleep and you might be having a rough time, he asks Lucifer and Satan what to do

They decide you should work out. That releases endorphins in humans and that sounds like what you need!

The attempts don’t go well, but you’ll at least come out of your room and be a resistance weight for him

Beel went into the weight room to do some pre-warm up exercises. He was mentally planning his reps and figuring out what muscle groups were on the schedule when he heard the clinking of weights

His brothers had other ways of working out so that meant only one person could be in the weight room

Beelzebub stamped down the urge to rush in and watch you in all your occupied glory, reminding himself you could drop a weight on yourself (or worse)

His purr gives him away

He’s proud, borderline excited, and just purrs long and loud from the entryway

Jumps into the workout with you, doing light exercises

Beel gets a little playful adjusting your posture, but it’s all sweet hugs and rocking you back and forth

Regardless of what muscle groups were on the schedule for the day, it’s arm day because he’s lifting you up, throwing you a little, and catching you in his arms

Give this happy, snuggly boy some kisses  

Belphegor

He can sense your state of mind by the nature of his sin. He sleeps a lot and has a knack for telling when someone’s sleep is anything but restful

Belphegor’s not 100% sure, but he thinks he can tap into your dream space. There’s this little ball of sad-tired-something that lets him know you’re not okay

There’s quiet mini-dates that ease the sting of your sadness, but he knows it’s not enough

When he sleeps, he has dreams about you being happy and hopes he can push them into your mind

Cuddles fix things. He’s down for couple naps.

Belphegor goes in and out of sleep; it’s during one of his periods of waking that he notices you’re not there

Hugging his pillow, he shuffles about the House of Lamentation to find you

He finds you cleaning and organizing the kitchen. Cleaning is a sign of healing, right? Lots of movement?

Belphegor realizes you’re doing more than cleaning. You’re stretching and lifting things like they’re Beel’s weights

It looks time-consuming, and like you’ve been at it for a while

Belphie plonks his head on your shoulder, asking how you’re feeling. He’s got that sleepy Cheshire Cat smile

You’re just as happy as can be, happier than he’s seen you in a while, and you celebrate by stealing a bunch of snacks and making a blanket fort in his room 

Hope you liked it :)

[vivalaluciforever]

Simeon x Reader - Promises

(Y/N) pov:

ACHOO! Ugh. I grab another Kleenex and once more blow my nose. I'm all congested, my throat is past the point of no return, I feel like I can barely breathe, and the cold is seeping into my very bones. I'm going to have to tell Lucifer that I can't make it to RAD. I'm barely able to stay awake.

"(Y/N)? Come one! You'll be late for breakfast and there'll be nothing left." exclaims Mammon as he barges into my room.

I try to talk, but it ends up in a coughing fit. "Mammon. Get. Lucifer." I whisper.

Mammon's eyes widen and he jets out of the room as fast as possible. I can barely hear his feet hitting the ground. In a matter of seconds, I faintly hear several feet and voices heading this way. Quietly, the door swings open and uncharacteristically, there is no noise.

Gently, an un-gloved hand touches my forehead. "She's terribly sick," states Lucifer softly. "Asmo. Get Solomon, we need his human knowledge."

After that, I drifted off to sleep. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Everything feels heavy and sluggish. I just can't seem to function at all.

Third-person pov:

Once (Y/N) had fallen asleep, the brothers quickly got to work. They layered her in blankets, warmed up her room temperature, and Lucifer anxiously called a doctor. Partway through all of this, they were joined by Solomon.

Solomon, very carefully, began to assess your sick state. Much to his displeasure, he was of little help. "She needs that doctor. Now."

Thankfully the doctor came soon after to also examine you. Which is what resulted in you being rushed to the hospital and put on immediate breathing assistance with medicine. You were so tired that you had no way to register any of the changes in your location or state of health.

Simeon pov:

I wonder where (Y/N) is? I haven't seen her all day. Come to think of it, I haven't seen the brothers either or Solomon. It's weird. The bell just rang for lunch, and I'm so used to her presence.

Quickly I chide myself. That's unholy and greedy. She is an independent woman and my girlfriend. She can handle herself just fine... but I'm still worried. Sliding in next to me, Luke starts to eat his lunch.

"Luke." I inquire. "Have you by any chance seen (Y/N) today?"

He shakes his little head, part of a cupcake shoved into his mouth. "No. She hasn't been in any of our classes this morning."

"Hmmm."

Noticing my hum, Luke quickly looks towards me. "I'm certain she's fine Simeon. It's (Y/N) after all and while I hate to admit it, the brothers do take great care of her. Maybe something came up in the human world."

"I don't think so," I respond fastly. "Something's wrong. I can just feel it."

In Private Chat with Lucifer

Simeon: Lucifer sorry to bother you, but (Y/N) hasn't been in school all day. Is everything alright?

Lucifer: No. She's in the hospital. When Mammon went to wake her up this morning she was... in bad condition. We aren't sure about anything at this moment in time.

Simeon: I NEED TO BE THERE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND! Can you PLEASE get me out of class? Lucifer! I'm begging you!

Lucifer: I just sent a text to Lord Diavolo informing him of the situation. He says that you are dismissed.

Simeon has gone offline

Standing up, I sprint as fast as I can out of the lunchroom. I don't care that I left behind my backpack, and Luke can take well enough care of himself as far as I'm concerned. Or should I say that Barbatos can take good enough care of Luke? After all, he swiftly sat down with little Luke at the lunch table. Regardless, they'll be fine. Right now, my little lamb needs me.

I pick up speed, not even really looking where I'm going. I'm running into people, and the picked-up wind of the incoming storm nips at my heels. My coat/cloak (not sure what to call it. If you guys have any ideas hit me in the chat) starts to have a mind of its own and whips around and into my face, but I don't stop. Why? Because I can't. (Y/N), my precious (Y/N), needs me right now.

Coming up to the hospital, I can see Lucifer waiting for me outside of the doors. I try to rush past him, but he quickly grabs my arm. I try to yank it away in desperation, but he won't let go.

"Simeon." And suddenly, he pulls me into a hug. "Listen, Brother, for that is what you once were. Calm down, and breathe through your nose. If you rush in looking like that, everybody will be worried about you. (Y/N) will be especially worried-"

"Is she awake?" I question out of breath, cutting him off.

Lucifer pulls away from the hug and grips me by the shoulders. "No, she's still asleep, but you can sit by her bedside. I'll help you get the room to yourself."

Shakily, Lucifer guides me inside and sits me down on a chair to calm me down for a couple of seconds. "What is she sick with?"

"A human disease," answers Lucifer shaking his head. The little crease in his brows giving way to his ancient age. "The doctors called in pneumonia. It makes it hard for humans to breathe and makes them terribly cold. If they don't get treated then they die. (Y/N)'s going to have some very serious physical therapy for her lungs after this."

"T-T-Therapy?" I stutter.

He nods his head. "Yes. She'll have to have breathing aids like air tanks, a machine to pump air while they're asleep, and so forth. That way they won't run out of oxygen partway through the night."

After a couple more minutes of panic attacks and short-term terror, Lucifer gently pulls me up by my hands and leads me to the elevator. Once we're inside, he presses the button for the fourth floor. From there the elevator ascends upwards. The doors are opening painstakingly slow, but after what feels like a lifetime we are finally met with the hallway. Lucifer walks slightly ahead of me so he can lead me there when he suddenly stops outside of a door.

Grabbing him by the shoulder, I stop him from entering the room. "I want (Y/N) transferred to Purgatory Hall. It doesn't have to be permanent, but I want to take care of her as her boyfriend. I have that right Lucifer."

"I know," he whispers sadly. "I knew you'd say that, so I already got Lord Diavolo's permission. The others and I will move over some of her clothes and comfort items while you're here with her. That way when she wakes up she has something familiar."

"Thank you Lucifer." my gratitude shining through the words.

Upon entering the room, seven heads turn to look at us. Lucifer gently shoos his brothers and Solomon out of the room much to their protests and refusals. Eventually, they leave, but not before Mammon leaves one of his rings on the nightstand, Beel his necklace, Belphie carefully positioning his pillow under your head, Asmo left a picture of the two of you together, Satan left his book with instructions to read it to her, Levi left a little anime keychain from his phone case, Solomon left his casual star cape for an extra blanket, and Lucifer left his cuff pins. Their little momentos left me in tears. They really do care for my girlfriend, my little lamb.

Sitting in the chair next to (Y/N), I gently grasp your hand. Letting out a little whimper as I hold your small cool hand. I can't help but think about how much you always liked it when I would rub circles into your hand, but I can't do that now. As long as that IV is in your hand, I can't rub it or disturb that area.

Against all of my wishes, tears quickly start to fill my eyes. Before I can grab a tissue or stop it, the tears start to spill over and out of my eyes. Except I don't want to stop. It feels good to finally be able to cry, to let it all out. Hiccups puncture through my cries as I sob.

"S-Simeon." hoarsely whispers a quiet voice.

My head snaps up to meet (Y/N)'s beautiful (eye color) eyes. "(Y/N)! Shhh. Shhh, my little lamb. Save your voice."

"Simeon. I. Love. You," she mumbles.

I lean down and gently kiss her forehead. "I love you too. Please sleep. Everything will be alright. I've gotten you transferred to Purgatory Hall, that way I can take care of you. Alright?"

She nods her head and gently leans into my touch. "Simeon. I. Promise. You-" she starts to slip into a coughing fit, and I quickly grab some water.

"Shhh. It's alright dearest. I promise too. I promise to spend the rest of your life and the afterlife with you. I promise to protect you mentally, physically, and emotionally. I promise so many things my love, and I can only hope that I'll be able to properly fulfill each and every one of them." I don't think. I just say what my heart tells me because it's the truth.

(Y/N)'s pov:

I slowly start to drift off to sleep once more during Simeon's love proposal. "I. Like. That."

With that, I start to fully relax further, and the darkness starts to close in around my eyes. On the last available wisps of my hearing, I hear one last thing. "Sleep well, my love." And that I did.

#simeon #angels #demons #humans #exchange program #brothers #obey me #om #obey me shall we date #mc

[gospelofme]

Super Nova

Chapter 2: The Offer

A year after that encounter with Master Tarrek, Sayriel would find herself on a transport leaving the atmosphere of Yavin IV, all of her possessions fit into a backpack. She didn’t have much, so it didn’t take her but minutes to pack.

A grand total of 15 years had passed since that encounter now. A 32 year old Sayriel stood under a stream of hot water, the steam of her shower fogging up the refresher. She had been too tired to shower the night before, so she made a point to get up early and wash up. Dried blood and dirt flowed off her body and swirled down the drain. She had found herself thinking back to that conversation with Master Tarrek. She still had issues with meditation, but it was most likely because she didn’t practice it much anymore. There were some thoughts she didn’t want to confront and areas of her mind that she refused to explore. She briefly wondered if she had made the right decision regarding leaving the sect on Yavin IV. They were pushing you out more and more every day. They wanted you to leave, they were practically showing you to the door. She reminded herself as she turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her now clean body. She bent over the sink and twisted excess water out of her long, dark brown hair.

After finishing her morning routine, Sayriel got dressed and checked her datapad for any messages. She frowned when she noticed one new notification. She didn’t really feel like seeing him today, but he was often associated with credits, which she did feel like accumulating more of. She already had a job she needed to complete today, so his message would need to wait. She dressed in dark grey pants and a white shirt. She paired this with black boots that hugged her mid-calf securely. They had seen better days but they were sturdy and still did their job. The thick soles protected her from broken glass to semi-molten metals. Plus they were fun to kick people with when she needed to. She secured her blaster to the holster on her thigh and her lightsaber was securely hidden in a pocket on her pant leg. After downing some caf for breakfast, and left her small apartment. Corellia was still largely asleep, but some businesses were starting to open up. The sun was just beginning to show itself at the horizon.

She walked in the direction of the landing pads where her ship was parked and hopefully awaiting the shipment of it’s cargo. She passed a few businesses on her way, some still securely locked up and others being set up for the customers that would eventually arrive. She knew a couple of the shop owners, a few of the market vendors, and the guy who ran the shipyard she used, but that was it. She didn’t want to be too known. Besides, she didn’t know how long she’d call Corellia home. Once at the shipyard, she typed in her access code and the gate slide open slowly. She found her ship on pad D4 and sure enough there was a Twi’lek male waiting for her with a stack of crates and a service droid. Sayriel smirked, at least he was on time this morning.

“Is this my shipment of Burra fish?” She inquired once she was closer in range.

“Yup, packed with the industrial ice packs as requested.” The Twi’lek responded. “I just need you to sign for them and I’ll have my droid load them onto your ship.” The vendor gestured to her Allanar N3 freighter, The Revenge. Sayriel took the datapad he held out for her and inspected the manifest and then opened one of the crates. Sure enough the fillets lay neatly wrapped surrounded by plenty of the industrial-grade ice packs. She checked all 10 crates and was pleased with all of them. She signed for the shipment and the Twi’lek’s droid set to work loading them onto her ship.

“So where are all these crates going?” The Twi’lek asked, making small talk. Sayriel hated small talk.

“Somewhere.” She replied with a “that’s all you need to know” smile. The man took the hint and didn’t try to continue the conversation.

Once the crates were securely loaded, Sayriel settled herself into the pilot’s seat and started her ship up. Within moments she was soaring through the atmosphere of Corellia and soon after that she was out among the stars. It was her favorite place to be truthfully. After a few calculations, she jumped to hyperspace and settled in for the two hour journey. She decided to try her hand at meditation again, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing. A quick series of beeps jolted her awake, it was time to drop out of hyperspace. She must’ve fallen asleep during her attempted meditation. Honestly that wouldn’t be the first time that has happened. Nar Shaddaa loomed in her viewport and Sayr piloted her way through the atmosphere to Wormstew Town. She had always wondered how that place got its name, but felt that she didn’t want to truly know the answer.

“This is Nova, I’m in route to Wormstew with your shipment of Burra fillets.” She commed her contact’s frequency. There was a crackle of static and then a reply for her to land on platform C5. She did as instructed and disembarked once she landed. She was met by a human male and a Rodian with a datapad. The Rodian scanned the cargo once it was unloaded and gave a nod to his human counterpart

“Looks like everything is in order,” the man said, lifting the lids on each crate and inspecting the contents. He pulled out of the ice packs and held it between his hands. “The hospital will be most pleased with this generous donation from your benefactor. Now if you come with me, I’ll get your delivery fee sorted.” He added, gesturing for Sayr to follow him to a small building near the platforms. The man tossed the industrial-grade ice pack from hand to hand casually.

Upon entering the small building, which was essentially 4 walls, a ceiling, and a desk, Sayr was greeted by a female Twi’lek. She was dressed in hospital garb, but Sayr could spot the outline of a blaster under her white coat. The man handed the woman the ice pack, who then carefully opened it along one edge. She took a test strip out of her coat pocket and dipped it into the substance that was starting to soften. The test strip emerged blue and the woman smiled.

“The bacta is still viable. This will help immensely. The Hutts have cornered the market on this stuff and are charging much more than we can ever afford.” The woman explained. Sayr found it disgusting how one life form could withhold live-saving equipment or substances from another. Bacta was an essential hospital tool and to charge an insane amount of credits for it just because they can was monstrous. This shipment of about 240 total frozen Bacta packs wasn’t a lot but at least they’ll be able to have some at the hospital here and send some to the smaller clinics they were affiliated with. She felt good participating with these causes, as she felt it helped balance out the unpleasant ones that also found their way into her calendar.

The credit transfer took place and Sayr took her leave of the pair, passing by the crates on their way to the hospital. She noted a male Zabrak leaning against the edge of her ship, she knew who he was. As she got closer she could make out the stupid smile on his stupid face. She had hoped he would’ve waited for her to answer his earlier message, but no. He felt the need to follow her here instead.

“What do you want Varex?” She asked with a weary tone. The Zabrak pushed himself off the side of her ship and scrambled up onto the loading ramp to block her way. Sayr tried to side-step him and he moved to match her. She stopped and gave him a glare.

“I just want 15 minutes of your time. I have an offer that I think you’ll be interested in.” Varex said, he sounded excited but that could just be a ploy to get her to agree.

“And what if I say no?” She countered, trying to side step him. He moved to still block her.

“Then I’ll follow you until you say yes.” He replied, Sayr knew he was serious and gave a weary sigh. She didn’t have any other job lined up right now anyways. She didn’t have to say anything, the look she gave the Zabrak pirate told him she agreed.

“Great!” He jumped off the edge of the landing ramp and back onto the platform. Sayriel made sure her ship was secured tightly and followed the pirate into town.

She followed him to a cantina fittingly dubbed The Wormhole. They walked through the small crowd at the front and settled in a back booth. A waitress came over and gave them both menus and said she’d be back in a bit to take their orders. Sayr folded her arms on the table top in front of her as Varex made himself comfortable in the seat across from her.

“So, it’s been a couple months.” He noted, Sayriel smirked.

“Is this a business proposition or a catching up meeting? Because time started when we walked through that door. You have 12 minutes left.” Sayr responded, sitting back and crossing her arms across her chest. She wasn��t interested in talking about the “old days” or what she had “been up to”. The Zabrak raises his hands in mock surrender and was about to get down to business when the waitress returned. Varex ordered the house-made Ale and Sayr got herself a Sparkling Stardust. Their drinks arrived quickly and Sayr took a sip of the sweet glittery drink. Varex shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Sayriel asked with a raised eyebrow, “a woman like myself can’t enjoy a girly drink?” She added with a teasing smirk.

“It’s just odd to see a woman like you sipping a glittery drink, I’ve seen you do some very unladylike things.” Varex explained, Sayriel shrugged in acknowledgement. The Zabrak then got down to the reason why he had followed her to Nar Shaddaa.

“A collector on Coruscant contacted me with a very intriguing job opportunity. He is a purveyor of ancient artifacts and has heard of some items of a Force-like nature hidden in caches on a few different planets.” Varex began. Sayr narrowed her eyes at the term “Force-like”. She had a feeling she knew why Varex had contacted her.

“What are these items of a Force-like nature?” She asked, eyes still narrowed at Varex. The Zabrak looked around to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

“I can’t say here, but I can tell you that they’re very old and very valuable.” Varex said, leaning forward. Sayriel stayed with her back against her booth seat. She wore an unimpressed expression on her face.

“What are they? Master Yoda’s bedtime slippers?” Sayriel asked sarcastically. Varex gave her a confused look in return.

“I don’t know who that is…but you can’t wear these I don’t think.” Varex replied, Sayriel rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

“So are you asking me because you value my company and think I make a wonderful work partner? Or is it because I have some tricks that will make these things very easy for you to find?” Varex didn’t hesitate with this reply.

“Both, but mainly the second thing.” Sayriel frowned and leaned back in her booth again, Varex quickly adding, “but also the first thing. You are a delight to have on the ship.” Sayriel held his gaze for a couple beats more and then turned her attention to her drink. She did appreciate his honesty and she did find his offer interesting. He drank his ale quickly and waited for her to finish her drink, which didn’t take long. Sparkling Stardust was always served in a small, delicate, wide-rimmed glass. But it was worth it.

“Okay fine, what the kriff. You were right, this sounds interesting.” She answered, Varex smiling in relief. Her joining his crew, even if on a temp basis, would make this mission so much easier. The two left the cantina, Varex paying for Sayriel’s drink on the way out. Varex gave Sayriel the coordinates to the current safe house. They both then parted ways and Sayriel found herself back out in space, surrounded by stars and silence.

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#star wars #star wars fanfics #star wars fanfiction #original grey Jedi character #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #post order 66 #zabrak #smuggling is fun #smuggler #good intentions #bacta