#this is just one of my issues with code of claw

[noirs-multiverse]

was thinking today abt how luxa and ripred somehow BOND at the end of code of claw and somehow no one,,,, ever,,,, questions it? cause it just creates more questions that literally never ever get answered within the book?

isnt luxa already bonded to aurora? can you bond with more than one person then? what even is the significance of a bond then?

aurora is apparently okay with this but,,, it does not make that much sense really. also, "if you think so, then i can survive it" (luxa to aurora, a little after the bond is made),,, that's. not very,,,,, bondlike or any good prospects for luxa and ripred's bond unless luxa is being sarcastic but i doubt that?

all throughout the series, bonds have always been between humans and fliers. this does make sense because a human and flier duo is pretty great for fighting and survival + travel within the underland, they complement each other. i don't think a human could have that with any other species. (idk how to articulate but like, fliers provide the Flight and humans provide the Attack yk, there's not much a gnawer can provide to a human in that regard if you get what i mean)

also, bonds are sought with someone who have a connection or understanding with. someone whose loss you would actively grieve. luxa and aurora, howard and pandora, hazard and thalia (😭), and so on. i mean,,, a bond is clearly a significant concept within the underland, the breaking of which is literally disastrous (ares being punished with exile before gregor saves the day). if i'm not forgetting anything, the only time a bond breaks is either a betrayal (henry and ares!!! they are a great example of how bond ≠ peace), or your bond dying (howard and pandora).

observing luxa and ripred's dynamic, they do not quite have the understanding that creates a successful bond (Luxa Was Literally Ready To Send Ripred And The Gnawers To The Uncharted Lands, HOW DID THEY BOND™️ LIKE 2 SECONDS LATER??? I reread that part just now and I lost several braincells, just to confirm if I was right. Anyway). i just. don't see how luxa could say that treaties have failed,,,, a bond can fail too?

especially considering how badly henry's betrayal affected luxa throughout the series, it just feels,,,, Not Right to see luxa doing this when henry's bond with ares failed? like, would she not have considered this before placing so much faith in a bond between her and ripred?

unless there is actual magic involved, nothing really guarantees that luxa and ripred's bond will preserve peace or anything. bonds in tuc seem to be more of a cultural/interpersonal tradition of high significance as opposed to an actual magical construct with any weight that ISN'T assigned by cultural/personal association.

i read more of that part just to check and this quote? "I need one human to genuinely approve of what I just did." (said by luxa)

THE WAY THIS LOOKS,,, THIS SOUNDS LIKE A VERY BAD MOVE FOR UM. YOUR "image"???? How could you make such a huge move without even consulting anyone properly, right ? Luxa, bonding with A GNAWER who you Threatened with Exile/Banishment does NOT bode well for your reputation, which you need if you are going to actually want to preserve any peace? Bro you could've just signed a treaty,,,,,,,

and i mean, if you CAN bond (bonds are one of the most,, iconic? idk what other word to use, features of tuc, just to put that here) with other species instead of just humans and fliers, i feel like that's not something you would ever just put at the end of the book and never really explore in depth,,,

anyway i feel like i missed something but like,,,, THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE QUESTIONING ON THE LUXA AND RIPRED BOND BECAUSE IT'S SO OUT OF NOWHERE,, and detracts from a proper understanding of what a bond even is

im pretty sure this is my first proper uh essay??? post on here so um lmk what u think, id love to hear all ur thoughts in general and stuff. i will prolly reblog this post if i have more thoughts on this, let's see haha. anyway, have an awesome day/night!

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #26

Danny didn’t really think it through. In his defense, there weren’t a lot of guidebooks titled “How to Deal with the Psychotic Future Version of Yourself You Accidentally Redeemed But Are Still Terrified Of.” Jazz suggested therapy. Sam suggested containment. Tucker suggested launching him into deep space. Danny, brilliant and seventeen and sleep-deprived after three days of babysitting a now mostly-reformed Dan Phantom, decided, “Screw it,” ripped open a portal to another dimension, and told him to “go make friends.” Dan grinned, sharp-toothed and wicked, and without hesitation dove through the swirling green and blue mass of unstable ectoplasmic energy.

Thus began the Marvel Universe’s greatest headache.

The first incident happened barely four hours after Dan’s arrival. New York woke up to a brand new urban legend: a demon with burning blue eyes and silver-streaked black hair beating the living shit out of Shocker in the middle of Times Square. People recorded it, of course. Viral videos showed Shocker screaming, running, trying desperately to aim his gauntlets while Dan literally phased through every attack like he was swatting a mosquito. Somewhere in the footage, Dan shouted, “C’MON, MAN! HIT HARDER, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING YOURSELF!” before drop-kicking Shocker into a halal cart.

The Avengers noticed. Specifically, Spider-Man noticed, because Peter Parker had never been so personally offended by something in his life.

“He’s stealing my bit,” Peter whined to MJ later, scrolling through TikTok and watching the mysterious “Blue Devil” bodyslam the Rhino into a GAP storefront. “That’s MY thing. Wisecracking and beating up guys in animal costumes.”

MJ, deadpan as ever, didn’t even look up from her book. “Maybe if you hit the gym once in a while, you could still compete.”

Elsewhere, S.H.I.E.L.D. was losing their collective shit.

Nick Fury reviewed the footage with the grim severity of a man preparing for war. “I want every available agent tailing him. Find out what he is, what he wants, and for God’s sake, do not engage.”

Unfortunately, Dan had other plans. He wanted engagement. Constant, chaotic, no-holds-barred engagement.

When the X-Men tried to approach him peacefully—because, to be fair, a floating, smirking, six-foot-seven superpowered anomaly screamed “mutant”—Dan responded by challenging Wolverine to a fistfight in the middle of Central Park.

“You smell angry,” Dan said, cracking his knuckles and grinning wide. “I like that. C’mon, Knives. Show me what those claws can do.”

Wolverine, never one to back down from a challenge, growled and immediately lunged. It took six X-Men to pull them apart. Logan was half in love and half homicidal.

Jean Grey, massaging her temples afterward, sighed, “He’s not a mutant. He’s something else. Something… worse.”

Meanwhile, Dan wasn’t picky about his opponents. Hero? Villain? Civilian? If you looked at him wrong, he was ready to throw hands. He got into a screaming match with Daredevil over a parking spot. He suplexed Deadpool into a dumpster for calling him “Discount Nightcrawler.” He made Venom cry after a fifteen-minute insult match that Eddie Brock would never fully recover from.

The Fantastic Four tried to reason with him.

“We can help you,” Reed Richards said, voice patient like he was talking to a rabid cat. “We have resources—”

Dan blew up the top three floors of the Baxter Building and left a sticky note on the ruins that said, “UR WELCOME - D.”

The thing was, Dan wasn’t evil anymore. Not really. He wasn’t trying to take over the world. He wasn’t murdering anyone. He just had a lifetime’s worth of rage, grief, and unresolved abandonment issues—and no idea what to do with them except get into constant, escalating, deeply unnecessary fights.

It got to a point where the heroes started treating Dan like a natural disaster.

“Code Blue,” a harried S.H.I.E.L.D. agent barked over comms one afternoon. “I repeat, Code Blue! The entity is currently body-slamming Juggernaut through Grand Central!”

Cap sighed, already pulling on his shield. “Alright, team. Let’s move out.”

Black Widow holstered her guns. “At least it’s not another alien invasion.”

Thor, cheerful as ever, grinned. “I relish a good battle!”

Hawkeye muttered, “You relish being concussed.”

Dan, for his part, loved the attention. He loved the chaos. He loved the feeling of letting loose in a world that could actually handle him, where nobody flinched when he punched through a concrete wall or melted a tank with a blast of pure ectoplasmic fire.

He was happy, in his deeply deranged, borderline-psychotic way.

That didn’t mean he was easy to deal with.

After Dan singlehandedly wrecked a Hydra base (“I was bored, okay?” he said when the Avengers confronted him), Tony Stark decided to try a different tactic.

“Look, Big and Blue,” Tony said, lounging on the ruined remains of what was once a cutting-edge jet. “Ever think about channeling that rage into something… productive? Like, say, joining the Avengers?”

Dan blinked, actually considering it for a full five seconds.

Then he laughed so hard he almost dropped a car on Tony’s head.

“Me? Work with you guys? Under orders? Are you high, Tin Man?”

Steve Rogers, exhausted and already developing a migraine, tried. “You could do a lot of good—”

“I am doing good,” Dan said brightly. “I’m keeping you on your toes. No need to thank me.”

“You broke Clint’s arm last week,” Natasha reminded him.

“He’ll live.”

“He was trying to give you a granola bar.”

Dan shrugged, utterly unbothered. “He looked suspicious.”

The closest thing Dan had to a friend was Deadpool. Not because they got along—they didn’t, not even a little—but because Deadpool was the only one insane enough to keep up.

They had a rivalry. A bloody, chaotic, absolutely incomprehensible rivalry that involved prank wars, bar fights, and one extremely regrettable karaoke contest that left three bars in ruins and a citywide ban on musical gatherings involving either party.

“I hate you,” Dan snarled once, pinning Deadpool to a wall after a four-hour chase across Manhattan.

“I hate you more!” Wade screeched back, thrilled beyond belief.

“Great! Friends forever!” Wade cackled.

Dan screamed into the void.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton was back in his own dimension, blissfully unaware, telling Jazz, “See? Everything’s fine.”

Jazz, reading a news article titled “Unknown Supernatural Entity Causes $3 Billion in Property Damage, Punches Doctor Doom in the Face” quietly considered strangling him.

Eventually, the heroes adapted. Dan was like bad weather. You prepared for him. You kept an eye out for ominous blue clouds and spontaneous outbreaks of screaming. Sometimes he helped. Sometimes he made things worse. Mostly, he made things interesting.

There were even betting pools.

“Fifty bucks says he crashes this gala,” Sam Wilson said, tightening his bowtie before a high-profile Avengers event.

“Hundred says he wears a suit to crash it,” Bucky Barnes added, deadpan.

“Two hundred he punches Tony before dessert,” Carol Danvers said, sipping champagne.

Dan did crash the gala. In a tuxedo.

He punched Tony before the entrees even made it out.

By then, nobody was even surprised.

The turning point came when Galactus tried to devour Earth (again). The heroes mobilized. Big stakes. High drama. Apocalyptic dread.

Dan showed up in the middle of the chaos, lazily floating beside Captain Marvel.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head at the giant cosmic entity looming in the sky. “I’m gonna punch that.”

Carol, blinking, said, “You can’t just punch Galactus.”

Dan, already cracking his knuckles, grinned. “Watch me.”

And then he did.

Nobody knew how. It defied physics, logic, and every law of reality. But somehow, Dan punched Galactus so hard the giant stumbled, clutched his jaw, and left.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Deadpool clapped. “THAT’S MY BEST ENEMY!”

Thor dropped his hammer.

Tony sat down on the ground and decided to reconsider all his life choices.

Steve very seriously said, “We are never letting him leave.”

Thus, against all odds, Dan Phantom—the violent, chaotic, semi-redeemed ghost of a now-erased dystopian future—became an honorary Avenger much to his own dismay.

He didn’t exactly follow rules. He certainly didn’t behave. But when Thanos invaded three months later and Dan showed up by suplexing a Leviathan out of the sky and riding it into battle like a demented cowboy, nobody complained.

Well. Except the Leviathan.

In the end, Danny was right.

Everything was fine.

If your definition of “fine” included a psychotic ghost terrorizing both heroes and villains equally, destabilizing multiple governments, and becoming a beloved menace.

But hey. Could be worse.

At least he wasn’t totally evil anymore.

[monicfever]

hiii angel!! i was wondering of you'd do something for dex and reader who has severe attachment and abandonment issues? i love love love your work sm!! <33

ben poindexter x attachment/abandonment!issues reader. 𝜗𝜚 headcanon’s

r e q u e s t e d ♡

cw ᝰ .ᐟ co dependency ,, toxic relationship probably? idk my heart shaped glasses are on ,, gender neutral reader ,, it’s dex so .. yah

DEX knows that kind of fear. the kind that makes your chest ache when someone takes too long to reply. the kind that whispers they’re leaving. so when you get quiet and distant and paranoid, he doesn’t take it personal. doesn’t get mad when you ask for reassurance three times in ten minutes — just pulls you into his arms and says it again: i’m not leaving. i’m right here.

he literally doesn’t know how to process being wanted this much. this is probably one of the most ideal scenarios out there for him.

emotional dependency. if one of you is upset, you can’t focus on anything until the other is calmed down.

dex lets you kiss his pulse when he’s scared. he won’t say it out loud, but it grounds him — to feel your lips where his heart beats. to know someone wants him alive. you let him kiss your wrist in return.

he lets you cling. he needs it too, if he’s being honest. lets you tangle your limbs around him like a lifeline. lets you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and real and not going anywhere.

the relationship isn’t about space, it’s about closeness. constant closeness. suffocatingly sweet, terrifyingly intense closeness.

you joke about being codependent and he nods like it’s a compliment. like, yeah? obviously.

you’ve both made it a habit to over-reassure each other when you talk about friends or exes. like, you’ll say “she’s nice, but she’s not you. no one makes me feel like you do.” dex’ll say “he’s cool, but you’re mine.” and it never sounds forced. it sounds like medicine.

you’ve both had full-blown meltdowns over someone going to the store without saying goodbye. the smallest silence, the smallest gap in communication triggers that deep, clawing fear: they left. they didn’t think it mattered.

both have habits to constantly reassure each other you're still chosen. dex will tap your thigh three times — his silent code for i love you, i'm here, i’m not leaving. you squeeze his hand in return — i know, i feel it, don’t stop.

he sends voice notes when he knows you’re spiraling. tells you exactly what he’s doing, exactly when he’ll be home. never ghosts, never disappears. he knows what that does to someone.

lets you repeat yourself. lets you doubt. lets you cry. he gets it — how love feels like something that could vanish if you breathe wrong. he lets you see him anxious, too. the tapping, the pacing, the tension in his jaw. not to make you feel guilty — but so you know you’re not alone. you don’t scare him. he’d rather have you panicked and clinging to him than not have you at all.

it’s terrifying how much he loves you. he needs you like air, like sleep, like the pills he forgets to take when he's too busy watching your location update on his phone. he never calls it stalking. he calls it making sure you’re okay. calls it looking out for you. calls it love.

he adores that you’re clingy. never complains. never rolls his eyes. in fact, the more you need him, the calmer he feels. finally, someone who wants him like that. who’s just as intense. neither of you go anywhere alone unless it’s absolutely necessary. if you could, you’d share one nervous system. always touching — pinkies hooked, shoulders pressed, legs tangled.

both of you panic when the other doesn’t answer the phone right away. he’s texting “where are you? are you okay?” while you're calling back in a frenzy thinking he got hurt.

falling asleep on top of him. always. his chest, his lap, draped across his body like a weighted blanket. he’d stop breathing before he’d ask you to move.

you panic when he leaves. even if he says it’s nothing big, even if it’s just a quick job. you cling to him at the door, voice cracking as you whisper “what if you don’t come back?” — dex melts. completely. cups your face in both hands, presses your forehead to his and says “hey. i’m coming back. i always come back to you.”

he leaves behind a hoodie that smells like him. a voicemail saying “i love you” just in case. his location’s always on. he double checks the locks before he goes. triple checks if you’re crying.

the second he’s home he’s dropping everything at the door, walking straight to you like he’s been starving. wraps his arms around you and mumbles, “missed you so bad. i’m sorry, i’m here now. i’m not going anywhere baby, i’ve got you.” you’re curled up on the couch in his hoodie, cheeks blotchy from crying, and he’s just standing there staring at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. like, he thinks you’re so adorable when you need him. “gonna make it up to you,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair while you cling to him. “wont go anywhere without you. won’t even go to the bathroom without you, swear to god.”

and he doesn’t. for the next 24 hours he’s glued to your side, follows you around the house like a puppy. lays on top of you like a weighted blanket, kisses every inch of your face until you start laughing through the tears.

you’re in his lap while he eats. in his lap while he watches tv. he literally can’t function unless you’re physically touching him. one hand on your thigh, arm slung around your shoulder, pinkies linked — something.

if you say “i thought you were gonna die,” he gets so soft. kisses the corner of your eye, strokes your cheek with the back of his hand and says, “you really love me that much, huh?” like he’s shy about it.

he thinks it’s so cute when you get possessive too. like if you cling to his sleeve when someone flirts with him, he leans in and kisses you right there, smiling against your mouth.

you both have those breakdowns where it’s not even words, just shaking and holding each other like it’s the only thing keeping your hearts beating. and every time he promises it again. even if he already said it twenty times that day. “i’m not going anywhere. i couldn’t even if i wanted to. you’ve got me forever.”

one time he tried to leave in the middle of the night for something “quick.” didn’t want to wake you. but you did wake up — reached out, found the bed empty, and by the time he was at the door, you were sobbing in the hallway. he immediately dropped his bag, walked back to you with the most heartbroken look on his face. cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing your tears away. you clung to him so tight he just sank to the floor with you, held you there until the sun came up. whispered over and over, “shhh. i’m not mad. you’re allowed to need me. i love it when you need me.”

he started letting you tag along after that. even if it’s just waiting in the car. even if you’re not doing anything. he’d rather see your worried face through the windshield than not see you at all.

he talks to you through his earpiece. “you still there, baby?” / “mhm.” / “talk to me. tell me what you’re gonna make me for dinner. i just wanna hear your voice.” and if you do stay home, he calls during the job. on the job. literally ducking behind cover like “hey, yeah, just wanted to say i miss you. i’ll be home soon, okay?” - - que him throwing a rock at matts forehead without even looking. when he comes back, he doesn’t even take off his boots before grabbing your face and kissing you breathless. muttering “you okay? did you cry? i missed you.” (part of him secretly likes it when you cry over him.)

he’ll cancel plans to stay in bed with you. has zero problem being irresponsible if it means holding you through a panic attack or a clingy spiral.

absolutely calls you pet names when you’re anxious. “sweetheart,” “angel,” “my baby.” says them soft and slow, like a lullaby, until you settle in his arms.

he wants the mess. wants the tears. wants the clinginess. it makes him feel safe. it makes him feel real. desired. if you ever try to apologize for needing too much he cuts you off with a kiss. “you’re exactly what i’ve always wanted.”

if you ever pull back, even just a little — even for a second — he goes absolutely wild. not in a “calm down” kind of way. in a “no, no, no” kind of way, like you’re slipping through his fingers. the moment you don’t immediately reach for him, his chest tightens, his heart rate picks up. “what’s wrong? don’t you want me?”

if you stop needing him for a second, even in a non-desperate, non-needy way, he can’t breathe. he panics. he feels his whole world shattering. like you’re getting ready to leave him. your clinginess feeds him. he knows you care. if you even accidentally pull away or seem like you’re trying to give him some space, he’s on you within seconds. wrapping his arms around you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he cracks when you show signs of independence. he thinks it’s a sign you’re going to disappear.

his mind works overtime, spiraling into the idea that if you don’t cling to him, if you don’t hold him like you’re terrified of losing him — then you will leave him.

starts to feel resentful of anything that takes you away from him. if you hang out with friends, if you don’t text him back immediately, if you want time for yourself, it all feels like a slow rejection.

will whine or get genuinely upset if you don’t show enough physical affection. even if he’s the one who’s too clingy, he’ll act like you’ve abandoned him just for pulling away for a minute.

he doesn’t like when you act like you’ve got it together. when you try to be strong without him. it makes him feel like you don’t need him anymore, like he’s invisible. “i thought you needed me. i thought i was the one you couldn’t live without.”

obsessive, compulsive tracking. you go to the store? he needs to know when you’re leaving, when you’re back, what you bought. stalker tendencies. if you leave for a moment, if you go out alone — he’ll follow. just to make sure you’re not leaving him or finding someone else.

he listens to you so obediently. whatever you say goes. if you tell him to stay close, he doesn’t question it. if you tell him to sit down, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and sit at your feet.

he’ll drop everything for you. his work, his hobbies, his interests — none of it matters if you need him.

both of you feed into each other’s worst fears: being abandoned, being alone. you make excuses for each other, let each other get away with anything just to avoid the uncomfortable idea of ever losing the other.

he enjoys knowing that you're so wrapped up in him, that when you feel abandoned, it’s almost as if the world is crumbling. he doesn’t want to be cruel, but he can’t help the rush it gives him knowing you’ll always look to him first for validation, for connection.

dex knows exactly how to get under your skin when you're struggling with your abandonment issues. when you try to shut him out emotionally, he’s the one to make you feel like it’s impossible to be without him. the more you get lost in your own head, the more he thrives on being your constant. when your insecurities flare up he doesn’t give you space; he pulls you in closer, touches you in ways that ground you. dex loves that you fall apart when he isn’t there. when you shut down or spiral into your own head, he sees it as proof that you can’t exist without him.

when you catch him spiraling, getting quiet, withdrawn, convinced you’re gonna leave - you drop everything to hold him. he clings to your shirt and hides his face in your neck like a kid. he never had that kind of comfort growing up, and now he craves it from you. only you.

when either of you even jokes about leaving, the other shuts it down immediately. it’s not funny. not even a little. you both get too in your heads about it, replaying it for hours after, paranoid it wasn’t a joke at all.

you both feed off each other’s clinginess. if one of you starts it — handsy, needy, whispering you can’t sleep without them — the other doubles it, tenfold. suddenly you're locked in each other’s arms like the world’s ending and only this moment exists.

keeps one of your things with him at all times. could be a hoodie, a piece of jewelry, even a chapstick you used once. he doesn’t tell you, but when he’s losing it, he holds it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. when you find it and realize he’s been carrying it around? you start doing it too.

neither of you knows how to fight without the deep-rooted panic that this will be the one that ends it. dex raises his voice once, and your heart drops into your stomach. you go quiet and his hands are already in his hair, begging under his breath — “don’t shut down. don’t leave.”

when one of you leaves the room for more than ten minutes without saying where you’re going, the other’s already pacing. it’s ridiculous. dex once came back from a shower to find you curled up on the floor thinking he bailed. now he always announces where he’s going. even if it’s just the kitchen.

when one of you is away for too long, you both lose sleep. it’s not just missing each other. it’s panic. dex gets snappy and withdrawn, you get dramatic and anxious. the reunion is always intense. too many emotions, too much relief.

he doesn’t just get protective. he gets viciously protective when you talk about past relationships, past abandonments. he hates thinking about you being hurt before him. loving someone before him.

sometimes dex gets so overwhelmed by how much he loves you that he just shuts down. goes quiet. curls up against you and buries his face in your stomach, you play with his hair until he comes back.

you both hate sleeping without the other now. you try to be normal about it, but you wake up nauseous. dex stares at the door like you might walk in. even one night apart leaves you both off balance. you sleep facing each other a lot. turning your back feels like a statement, and neither of you could survive misinterpreting that in the dark.

he picks up on your micro-expressions instantly. your blink patterns, how you fidget when you’re upset, how your smile twitches when you’re scared. he watches you like a survival manual. you do the same to him — he calls it creepy as a joke, but he melts every time.

dex starts fights on purpose when he’s scared you’re pulling away. just to make sure you care.

your phone backgrounds are each other. not even cute aesthetic photos — full-on, raw, vulnerable pictures.

you both keep little mementos from each other. you write notes to each other constantly. on mirrors, on receipts, on the backs of your hands. he has every post-it note you’ve ever written. you keep a receipt from a gas station because he held your hand in the parking lot and told you he’d never let go. you keep them like relics. like insurance against loneliness.

when one of you gets triggered or panicky, the other instinctively lowers their voice, softens their movements, goes small. you both know what it’s like to be too scared to ask for comfort.

every time one of you has a nightmare, the other doesn’t ask what it was. not unless you want to say it. instead, the rule is: water, forehead kiss, wrap around each other until your breathing syncs. the night resets when you find each other again.

there’s a rule: never leave the house angry. ever. if you fight, you sit on the floor, back to back, and you breathe. five minutes. ten. until the tension melts.

you keep a shared notebook for when the feelings are too big. you write letters to each other in it, especially on hard days. sometimes dex scribbles “i love you even when you’re quiet.” and leaves it on your pillow. you write back: “i love you when you’re angry. i know why you get that way.”

dex lets you trace his scars when you’re anxious, over and over. even the ones he usually hides. you do it like it’s sacred. like every inch of him deserves love. when he can’t breathe, you ask him to trace your spine, your jaw, your hands. it calms him every time.

dex keeps a note in his phone called “what to do when they’re hurting.” it’s just little things you’ve said helped. your favourite snacks. songs that pull you back. the way you like your hair touched.

you both panic when the other one sleeps too still. like — is that still breathing? dex has absolutely leaned over you, whispered “baby?” until you stirred just slightly. and you’ve done the same, barely touching his chest with your fingers to feel it rise.

marks you up when he’s jealous. hickeys, scratches, bite marks in places only he’ll see. for control — for comfort, for proof. you do the same. a little too hard with your nails. a kiss with too much teeth.

he absolutely malfunctions when you compliment him too earnestly. like, he can take teasing or playful flattery, but if you look at him dead serious and say something he stares at you like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.

he doesn’t know how to handle the way you hover when he’s injured or just tired. like bringing him water, checking his face for any sign of discomfort, asking “need anything?” every ten minutes. he’s never had someone be gentle with him like that, it completely unravels him.

becomes totally silent when you trace his features. like, drag your fingers over his cheekbones, his brow, his jaw — just looking at him like he’s something sacred. he leans into your palm every time.

dex absolutely gets flustered when you praise him in front of people. casual stuff — “he’s so good at that,” or “he takes care of me better than anyone ever has.”

he loves being watched. like when he’s doing something totally mundane — loading a gun, brushing his teeth, pacing — and he notices you looking at him like you’re obsessed. it short-circuits him a little. he tries to act normal, but it makes his skin burn in a good way.

once got really quiet after you hugged him from behind and just held him there. no words. no tension. just arms around his waist, your cheek against his back.

when he’s being moody or short, you don’t fight back. you just cup his jaw, tilt his face toward yours, and say “talk to me.” it undoes him completely. you never use that voice unless you’re pulling the hurt out of him like a splinter.

he is always waiting to be “too much” for you. too cold. too quiet. too angry.

he can always tell when you’re spiraling in your head, even if you don’t say a word. maybe you’re fidgeting with your hands, chewing your lip, or just not making eye contact. he’ll pull you into his space, drape a heavy arm around your shoulders, and rest his head on top of yours. you don’t need to explain; he already knows. sometimes, he’ll just leave a kiss on your temple and wait, and that’s all it takes for you to calm down a little.

when you’re feeling overwhelmed in public, maybe at a party or in a crowded place, his first instinct is to reach for your hand, fingers squeezing just enough to pull you back to him. the simple pressure of his hand is enough to remind you that no matter how loud the world is, he’s here, and he won’t let you go.

when you’re on the verge of a panic attack he instantly knows. his reaction is immediate, he doesn’t try to talk you down with logic (because he knows that doesn’t work), instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, keeping you in his chest until you’re calm. when it’s over, he doesn’t leave you, even for a second. he’ll make sure you feel safe.

sometimes, when your abandonment issues hit, you get scared of being left alone — whether it’s him going out or just being in a different room. dex, noticing this, will make sure to be around you constantly, but in a way that doesn’t overwhelm you. if he has to leave for a bit, he’ll casually say, “i’m going to grab coffee. wanna come?” or, if you’re staying in, he’ll just hang out in the same space as you, whether it’s in the living room or the kitchen.

started 4.27.2025. finished 4.27.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[tinydefector]

Starscream - Rut Cycle

Starscream x Human reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn, Giant/tiny, size difference, Mating cycles, Heat cycle, Oral, fingerings, penetration.

Word count: 2.7k

Wooooo finally got this piece done, I hope you all enjoy how snarky and pissy Starscream is but he's also not willing to ask anyone else for help with his issue.

Request are Open please read my pinned post for rules.

Masterlist and Rules

Rut cycle masterlist

Starscream Masterlist

_____________

 Both factions tried their best to avoid each other as much as possible with the many cybertronians. But it's the little human from earlier which catches Starscream's attention. They are peacefully unaware of his burning gaze on them despite the sweet scent that came from their smaller frame, making him nearly snarl with want. Had it been any other time his optics wouldn't even flicker on their frame, but the cybertronian rut had him eager to find a way to let off charge and the organic responsible for igniting such foreign urges within his circuits during the meeting is what he has set his gaze upon.

According to his studies of indigenous species during past orbital observations, he knew rut pheromones held little effect on humans, but they had a constant scent which seemed to almost enhance. It stimulated his circuits, even had his processor strained to restrain. His joints clenched hotly fans blasting full force to try and cool his frame as  hot air blasted from his vents as he musings of folding those smaller limbs beneath his bulk. 

 It was a ridiculous notion, of course. Yet denying base coding risked compromising not only his system functions and level-headed trine, his trine were already on edge within these crowded quarters.

The mech released another steady exvent. Violence wasn't going to solve anything during their rut, as much as Starscream despised cooperation with the Autobots, this truce was meant to benefit all where interests aligned. The Red and blue seeker stalks behind the human waiting for the best opportunity to snatch them up. 

said human look up when they hear the loud steps echoing from behind them, eyes widening almost in horror as Starscream wraps a servo around them before whisking them off into one of the empty offices of the Ark. Their cry falls silent when Starscream shoots them a glare, wiggling in his hold, until they eventually give up.  

Starscream's engine rumbled ominously as his smouldering optics fell upon the lone organic within his grasp. According to his analysis, their frame is rather suited for  interfacing, yes it carried risk mainly to their much smaller frame but due to increasing heat building up in Starscream's system he lacked the time to care. He needed an outlet, and the sweet pheromones teased his nasal systems made a rumble emit from his cockpit. 

“Cease your writhing.” he Grumbles while dropping them on the desk in a corner. “Remain cooperative and no harm shall befall you,” his low voice assured. Optics scaling  down their body as he inspects and finds that they would do. 

They let out a yelp as they are dropped on the table, looking up at him, taking a moment to try and scurry away only for Starscream to grab their leg and drag them back. They shout in shock before their body is still just laying on the table looking up at him. "What screamer do you want? Screamer! " their voice is shaky before the anger seeps throught into their words as they glare up at the seeker. 

Starscream's optics glowed with sadistic amusement as they futilely struggled in his grip. This one had spirit, while limited by its primitive form, offered finer entertainment than most of its inferior kind. He had to admit their frame was rather to his liking, For a fleshling. 

Starscream doesn't even answer before his helm leans down very close to their frame, taking a deep intake of their scent, letting it filter through his systems, another deep rumble leaves him as his digits begin clawing at their clothing. 

They nearly squeal as he leans in closer. "Stop! I'll scream and every Autobot in the Ark will storm in here!" They stammer out, it makes Starscream pause for a moment. optics narrowing as the small creature issued its threat. drawing unnecessary confrontation while in Autobot territory wasn't something he needed less so when his coding was sending him into full rut. 

Removing his face from against their body, Starscream purred disdainfully, "Your posturing amuses me. But alerting your beloved autobot protectors benefits neither of us." His talons idly traced nonthreatening patterns as charged energy lingered in his field. 

Their jaw clenches as they glare up at him, heaving in breaths. "What, do you want Starscream?" They try to sound menacing but due to the size difference they look more like an angry petroabit. Starscream cycled several intakes of air, fans whirring as the organic's enticing pheromones teased his sensors.

Leaning in close once more, Starscream rumbled in a deceptively soft tone, "You know full well what I Need, you were in the meeting i doubt you weren't ears dropping " the two go silent just staring at each other before Starscream continued, "Remain still and silent, I need you frame to sate my needs. Struggle, however, and I make no promises of no injuries." 

They flail, trying to slap his plating, hissing at him. "Have you lost your mind, what makes you think I'd even let a fucking Con touch Me!, you'd likely squish me after!" They shout at him while trying to wiggle out of his hold. "TRACKS!, BLASTER!" They try yelling. 

Starscream snarled as they fruitlessly struggled in his grasp. "Cease your pointless writhing," he spat. While interfacing carried certain risks across their disparate biology, gentler care could satisfy both parties, he wasn't past trying to satisfy them if it meant he could stable his systems. Releasing a steady ventilation, Starscream stated, "Calm your little processor and listen. Perhaps we can find an arrangement... mutually satisfying."

 They go quiet as they lay there in Starscream's servos. Their heart pounding in their chest as they listen to the whirl and pulse from Starscream's frame. "What kind of Arrangement?" They ask, a slight stutter in their voice. Starscream cycled air slowly through his vents as his optics met the organic's gaze.

"One whereby both parties leave in a state of satisfaction, with dignity intact. I'd rather have a willing participant, as much as I dislike your kind I'd be caught dead before interfacing with an Autobot, you help me with my Issue, you leave satisfied and we never speak of this again" he rumbled softly, fans whining as his body shutters as heat pours through his lines, 

 “ Your pheromones are sending my systems haywire, I need release” he grumbles hating the fact that he had to resort to almost begging for a rut partner. They shutter lightly debating the offer. The whines, clangs and mechanism in his frame screech and grind against each other with need. "Fine, I'll help you with your issue" they grumble lightly. Nearly yelping when Starscream begins discarding their clothing. "Jesus! Desperate much!" They snap at him.

Starscream's optics roll as he ignores their grumbled words. Discarding the shredded garments with efficiency, Starscream purred down at its now-exposed form, his digits traced teasing patterns against sensitive flesh as primitive biological functions betrayed the organic's own rising arousal, he could basically taste them. 

 Starscream rumbled smugly, watching as they squirmed under him. A shiver runs through their body as Starscream traces a digit down their body, watching the way they shift under his touch, the goose bumps that prickle their skin. A soft whine leaves them as he moves further down their frame. "God you're so snobby and up yourself" the human huff in annoyance. 

"Your pathetic frame betrays your prudish words, flesh creature," Starscream sneered, tracing his claws around areas already blossoming with coloured lines. Leaning in until his ex-vents teased their naked body, Starscream purred silkily, "Cease your mewling protests." His own circuits buzzed with building need.  

The human shutter as Starscream's digits move down to their thighs, teasingly tracing against their sex, they let out a slight moan only to gasp as Starscream leans down and watches the way they squirm under his rather gentle touch. "prick" they huff. Starscream's crimson optics glinted with a mix of disdain and hunger as the human's teasing gestures. They go to make another snarky remark only to nearly squeal as his glossa presses against their skin, dipping down to press against their entrance. 

With a snarky smirk playing on his lips, Starscream leaned down, relishing the sight of the human squirming under his touch. "Prick, am I? Well, you're not exactly my ideal choice of company either," Starscream retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of arousal. A feral hunger surges through him as his glossa pressed into them,  slowly dragging along their walls. 

Their skin tastes sweet like the Energon wine with crystals he loved so much from before the war. It makes the mech groan out in delight and he pulls them flush against his intake, indulging their sweet taste. Small gasps and whimpers leave them, their protest falls silent as Starscream works them open on his glossa. Starscream's optics narrowed at the human's withering frame, a snarky smirk playing on his lips as he continued to indulge in their sweetness. He speaks against their thighs "Oh, the audacity of you. Don't act like you're not enjoying every astrosecond of this," Starscream retorted.

With a predatory gleam in his optics, Starscream worked them open on his glossa, relishing in the way they squirmed and gasped under his ministrations. Despite the human's initial protest, their body betrayed their true desires, succumbing to the intoxicating allure of the Decepticon's touch. The sweet sound of their moans has Starscream contemplating sharing them with his Trine once the rut cycle is over. hes rather sure that the other two would enjoy their tight body as much as he was. 

As the collection of moans fall from their lips, their hips arch up into his intake. They refuse to call out his name. Even as he presses his glossa deeper into them, a deep purr rumbling from his frame. A small whimper leaves them and it makes Starscream rather smug over the situation. With a haughty tilt of his helm, Starscream pressed his glossa deeper into them, relishing in the small whimper that escaped their lips. Their defiance only fueled his desire to dominate. 

A loud moan falls from their lips as they throw a hand over their mouth, but it was too late now, Starscream had heard the moan. Despite their feeble attempt to stifle their sounds of pleasure. "No need to be shy now,” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and amusement.

"Shut up" they grumble. Everything about the human has his systems surged with old coding, a need to take and claim them. Starscream's optics flashed with a mix of irritation and amusement as the human grumbled and pushed him away, attempting to assert some form of control over the situation. "Oh, touchy, are we now?" he retorted, his tone snarky and laced with impatience.

His modesty panel slides away as his Spike pressurises. His movements became deliberate and calculated. Running a digit down their thigh, savouring the contrast between the cold steel of his touch and the warmth of their skin. The choked mew that escaped the human only fueled his desire further, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly pressed his digit into their tight opening, relishing in the sensation.

 he picks up pace of his thrusting his digit into them, admiring the way their smaller body eagerly takes it. As the human's eyes fell closed in a mix of pleasure and surrender, Starscream's movements became more assertive and dominant. Each thrust was calculated to elicit a response, his actions a blend of pleasure and power. "You're enjoying this more than you'd like to admit, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice laced with snark and condescension.

The human's moans increased in intensity, a symphony of desire that only fueled Starscream's own satisfaction. As Starscream retracts his digits he makes himself comfortable between their thighs, enjoying the mess he had made of them so far. Despite their fight before they seemed much more manageable and cooperative now. A loud gasp escapes them as his spike lays against their skin. Horror and fear flashes before their eyes.

Starscream couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before him, the human's initial resistance now giving way to a more compliant state. A loud gasp escaped the human as his spike laid against their thigh, a playful glint in his optics as he leaned in closer. "Oh, what's the matter, little one? Scared of a spike?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery and condescension.

"That's not going to fit" they state breathlessly as he slowly grinds against them. A soft whine leaves them as Starscream slowly rocks against them. He enjoys every second of it, the sweet scent from the human, the way their body responds to him so eagerly despite how much of a fight they have put up.

"Oh, you underestimate me," he taunted, he dragged the tip of his spike down to their entrance, Starscream revealed in the anticipation and control of the moment. Starscream's voice dripped with smug satisfaction as a loud gasp escaped the human upon feeling him slowly pressing his spike into them. With a loud groan and the static of Cybertronian leaving him, he firmly grasped their hips, keeping them steady as he worked his spike inside them. A smirk played on his lips as he relished in the moment.

"What was that about not fitting?" Starscream's taunting words filled their tight body, Whimpers, whines and moans fell from their lips as Starscream began picking up pace, enjoying how tight they felt around his spike, he hadn't interfaced with anything like this. And he was starting to see the appeal of such a soft and plush body. 

"Such delightful little sounds," he murmured, his voice laced with a newfound appreciation for the human's form. His optics flicker down to watcha s his spike slides into their tight hole, enjoying the wait their body almost moulds around his spike, relishing in the tightness and the softness that enveloped him, savouring every moment. 

They cling to him with each thrust, a symphony of moans leaving them. He continued to move with purpose, Starscream relished in the sounds of their shared pleasure, his coding singing in delight as his Spike swells locking them in place as he hunches over them, digits digging into the metal table and he snarls loudly. 

Starscream's frame trembled as the human's fingers dug into his plating, sending a shudder up his struts that resonated through his core. The intensity of their touch, combined with the overwhelming pleasure of how tight they are around his spike pushed Starscream into a feral state, his instincts taking over. 

He ruts his spike deeper into their smaller body as he overloads and coats their insides in a vibrant hue of fluorescent pink that pours out of their smaller body onto the table around them. His optics flicker down to watch the fluid drip and leak from the human's smaller frame, his optics darkening with a primal hunger. The sight of the shimmering pink fluid only fueled his desire further, his fans and vents blast hot air as they try to cool his systems. He doesn't move from his position taking time for his frame to reset and cool down from interfacing. 

The human lay under him in a panting mess, eyes closed trying to catch their breath in the aftermath of their coupling. "You're quite the pathetic sight, struggling to even breathe properly," Starscream remarked, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and amusement. They shoot him a glare before flipping him off. “Go fuck yourself” the huff out, chest heaving as sweat sticks to their skin.  

"You're lucky to have experienced such a moment with me. Cherish it, for it may be the closest you'll ever come to true power," Starscream's words dripped with condescension, a hint of sadistic pleasure colouring his voice. “go suck a spike” they grumble out trying to get the last word in over their argument. “I'd much rather feast on you” he rumbled, slowly pulling out, another flood of transfluid gushes out of their smaller body which makes them gasp and shutter. 

A smug satisfaction washes over Starscream before he drops back down between their tights. Glossa runs over their abused sex as he pulls them back to his intake. 

_________

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[bruciemilf]

I know this is a DC blog but I NEED dad Logan. Get that murder teddy bear some kids ASAP.

Fancast + non canon Headcanons ahead.

BOBBY MY BELOVED / 16

“Sure everything in my life is terrible. But at LEAST I’m gay”

Makes pop culture references Logan doesn’t understand. “Logan threw the first brick at stonewall” “what are you SAYING” “he’s an ally”

Can, will, and has gaslight Logan into thinking he’s homophobic just for not letting Bobby do what he wants

Stole a beer from Logan once and they found him drunk crying at 3 am. He calls Logan to apologize about it. “I’m sO sorryyy. You know I love you??” “Go to bed” “noOoo” Logan is next to him.

Has a secret YouTube channel and everyone watches for Logan interactions specifically

Mabel Pines coded

KITTY… that’s his half pint your honor. / 17

Logan is terrified. Why are you such an easy kid. Why aren’t you rebelling? Why isn’t defiance bleeding on your fists?

Why aren’t you clawing and biting and snarling for your freedom? Why aren’t you being a kid? Who do I have to skin-

Daughters are not supposed to exist quietly.

I hc that Kitty’s family is extremely unsupportive of her being a mutant, — but they’re just traditional in general. Specifically she’s petrified of being around/existing along men.

Certified babysitter when Logan’s not around. She’s so big sister.

“guys!1!11!!!! mr. Logan said not to do that!1!1!1”

Logan BEGS her to be a shitty teenager for like 10 minutes. Be bratty!!! Tell him to fuck off! Throw a tantrum!!!! “But I’m not a kid.” “You’re MY kid.”

JUBILEEE daddy’s girl / 15

Problem Child TM

Plays Rock n Roll by Avril Lavigne at 4 am to piss Logan and her siblings off when they annoy her

Grounded all the time but if she fake cries Logan will shamefully relent.

Always puts Logan’s patience to the test because she anticipates him leaving/giving up on her

Foster child with issues. She spent half her life looking for people and the other half being abandoned by them. This won’t be any different.

Except Logan is very good at fighting destiny.

Your honor I don’t CARE Logan is made to be a girl dad!!!!

“On the spectrum. Not saying which one”

STRONG she/they energy

Most affectionate with Logan out of all the kiddos. Her love language is terrible pancake making (Logan eats them anyway) and cat cuddling.

ADHD icon

LAURA (murder baby) / 7

Brings dead birds/mice to her family members (affectionate)

Charles has the bright idea to enroll her in school with the kids. “It’s important for children to socialize with peers their own ages.” “Can’t socialize if they’re all DEAD.”

That meme of the little boy and his father with an arrow in his shoulder

Youngest child privilege

Steals Bobby’s phone and shoot’s hilariously off angle family vlogs. One of them includes her stealing Logan’s motorcycle while he runs after her

[mrabubu]

/the ref is a bit old, but the info is mostly accurate/

So, I did kinda sketch ref for my Kraang character and make her more of a person, or something, with a name and all. I'm still going to use they/them pronounce and Y/N when people will be asking something about Krangified AU.

More information about her below.

So, her name is Ana now.

About her personality before she was turned into the Kraang zombie I still can't say much at the moment (because I'm mostly focused on their interactions in the present timeline), except for her being the person who was genuinely worried about Leo and what's been going on in his head. She saw his attitude and for her it was obvious it was mostly a facade to hide his real emotions and wanted to help him, being a shoulder to lean on. I see her being the weirdo to others that found his jokes actually funny.

After Kraangification, I can describe her with one word: DEPRESSION. I mean, you've been a mindless zombie for about 10 years that practically flashed before your eyes. You wake up facing the facts that the world has been at war with the Kraang for all this time, everyone you knew grew up, your family is long gone, your boyfriend been through hell and lost his arm, and, yeah, your still kinda a zombie also facing some self-control issues. Your Kraang half is taking control over you from time to time, attacking others and even friends if provoked. Not to mention that a lot of things that used to be casual to you are now something you need to learn to be used to again, like bed or actual food. Yeah and also that little inconvenience that she has to eat people now.

She's been dozing off a lot at first, after Leo got her to their base, just staring at one point, processing the whole situation and still feeling like it's just a very long nightmare. And only Leo could snap her out of this state at least for a short amount of time.

When I've been making first sketches with her I gave her this pointed ear and horn like Kraang appendage on her forehead, and thought this kinda reminded of oni's (demons) from Japanese folklore, which kinda resonated with this whole Kraang AU concept.

I also can't stop thinking about Beauty and the Beast (original Disney animated movie) concept, only with them swapping roles in contrast to the original story.

I really like the concept of the turtles being able to make this chirping and churring sounds, and thought, why can't she make something like this? So, yeah, she can churp and purr (I don't know if there's a difference between churring and purring, still didn't understand, and this churring sound is still mostly fictional, fanon thing..? but, anyway). I like this idea of Leo and Ana being able to communicate with the language only they (and other turtles) understand.

A few more sketches with her and a couple of scenes.

Her claws on the Kraang arm can extend. I thought about her being able to shapeshift her arm further, but for now it's either extended claws, or something like a sword or some other sharp pointy thing...

I've been thinking about her fighting style, and for a reference I used the The Witcher 3 again (yeah) There's a vampire species, Bruxa and Alp, and I'm thinking her fighting style would be something like of an Alp. Fast and agile, also pretty strong (tho still not strong enough to take out big enemies like the Kraang in their suits).

I have this scene in my head that I actually been sketching already, where she's fighting the Kraang hounds, and pretty much able to lift one grabbing it by it's throat and throwing it into the tree like a rag doll.

Another thing is her screech she uses to intimidate/immobilize her enemies. It's also more of an alp than bruxa, especially in this video time code 00:36, this is pretty much how I imagine it.

I also know that I've messed up her eyes when she's in her Kraang mode, because they should be turning purple, like Raph's left eye that wasn't covered by Kraang flesh, but, uuuh, I don't want to change that at this point...

I think that's it for now...? If I'll have more ideas I'll either be making other posts, or updating this one.

[alien-magnolia]

I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

[toffeebrews]

Killer is literally a cat! REAL!

purely stereotypes here of course

- Obvious one first, cats tend to be written off as villians inherently. They're more complicated than that but because how they behave and what is said about them people are scared of them. Although, it can be matter of approach... (this sounds like im excusing killer I'M NOT TRUST!! I promiseeeee I know he's done bad things i promise don't jump me.)

- The other obvious one, he owns cats therefore is a cat person. Therefore therefore, he must be cat- coded.

- He has the whole "don't love me too close, I'll hurt you" sorta thing going on.

- Explicit boundaries, when pushed, he'll bite and claw and scratch his way outta there. I guess in his case stab or punch, etc a lot! excessively! seriously my guy! calm down!

- He cause trouble but on purpose! He seems like the type of guy to stare directly at you and knock something off the counter just to spite you or to get a reaction.

- There is a stereotype that cats can switch from being affectionate to biting you. I think this can fit into Killer's unpredictable behavior.

- Cats play with their food :) They enjoy the thrill of the chase, it's a game. Until they get bored and play with something else. Apparently cats also do this to tire out the prey, so do with that info that you will.

- Cats tend to hide when they're sick as a survival instinct.

- Cats tend to show affection in ways that's not understood by others.

- HC'ed with attachment issues, cause like, yeah. Cats with separation anxiety will become destructive if left alone to long.

- Love bites.... that is it.

- They're loyal to their master of sorts but not necessarily out of trust but instead of a resources given.

- In media, cats tend to be snarky, manipulative and observant. Now who does that sound like...

- Cats are typically seen as tricksters, Killer is bit a trickster himself? no?

- Sorta a stretch, but the phrase "cats have nine lives" reminds me of him. This ties into his whole reload thing except he has way more than nine!

My favorite thing is when people add on so please feel welcome to!!!!

[nabi-unveiled]

The Special Episode of Business as Usual is Sunshine in my Pocket

I did not know a special episode could bring me this much joy, and I will now be adding it to my "rainy day" watchlist.

Because their relationship isn't "perfect", but it's "perfect for them". And we got to SEE it. The special was full-on boyfriends era and being domestic together.

As I said in my post that became a novel, they will fight. Min Jun is going to emotionally react, and Jin Hwan has to be able to handle that for the relationship to work. I said in a comment that if I removed my "play nice" filters, I would call Min Jun a "clingy, insecure boyfriend who gets mad and pitches a fit". In symbolic terms, I see him as a cat whose claws emerge almost instinctually. In more formal terms, he's emotionally reactive.

So I loved that we got Min Jun admitting that he pitches hissy fits.

And Jin Hwan confirming that he is aware of his man's personality and can handle it.

But I especially loved that we went EVEN further to see that they're working to bridge the differences between them.

Jin Hwan clearly communicates that, even if he understands, it's still hurtful.

And Min Jun not only took the step to reach out first following their spat, but he finally APOLOGIZED for something.

And promised to continue working on things.

It's confirmed that Min Jun still has fears. He fears the end. That's always going to be a part of his personality.

But he's committed to fighting for this relationship despite the fears, and that matters.

He can't always convince himself that their relationship will be okay in the long run. But he CAN convince himself that he doesn't want it to end. They are both committed to each other and working through their issues.

I love that we see how their relationship has continued to develop over the past year.

They're still enjoying the beautiful views at "their place".

But they're expanding their adventures to beautiful new places too.

Honoring their past while building a future.

But beyond seeing their domestic era (🥰) and our men continuing to sing the song lyrics, the episode decided to speak my language in other ways.

They continued the cat references.

Confirming (in my mind at least) that Min Jun is indeed a cat as I explained in my way too long post 😅, and as he told us himself in his lyrics in episode 1.

Really, it should not have taken me as long to come to that conclusion. Because the one detail that has been consistent throughout the show is that their lyrics represent their feelings.

They color-coded!

When they went on their date, they embraced the colors of their cat plushies.

Which made the fact that Jin Hwan captured the pink plushie first even more meaningful. After all, he was the one convinced this relationship could work first. And it took him a long time to capture the blue plushie. But they're both now caught. They're a pair.

We have food symbolism (and innuendos).

I'm a sucker for food symbolism. In the past, we saw them enjoy a simple meal together. There were two bowls. Min Jun had the sausage. Jin Hwan is the one who bought it.

For their anniversary meal, they are still enjoying these simple things together. But now there is one bowl. They both get a bite of the sausage. And Min Jun is the one who bought it.

They're sharing, working together and Min Jun is giving to Jin Hwan in the same way Jin Hwan gave to him. I love it so much.

Of course, they've grown up so they've added some "adult" things to the meal too. Like salad (they're being healthy!) and wine (how romantic).

Plus, they're still enjoying a different kind of "sausage'.

And just like they were working together in the kitchen, we now have two way energy flow. We have lots of smiling and teasing each other to demonstrate that they may have their tiffs, but they'll really enjoy each other's company in the times between.

In summary - they are happy, and I am happy. Win-win.

[ariadne-karloff]

Random headcanons

Food.

Creed doesn't have a lot of control when eating: he eats like it's the first time in ages, and could be the last. He basically inhales the food, actually enjoying it only after he's eaten enough and or feels safe. He could keep eating indefinitely if you put food in front of him, no restraints, no shame, just a void to be filled. His healing factor helps him battling the nausea and the too full part. If he's by himself, he then nap the hell out of all that food. The presence of food, even still alive, gets him sidetracked and he needs to refocus on the task at hand.

Sleep.

He sleeps curled up, or half curled, with his head on his arms. If he's sleeping with someone, the someone becomes a teddy bear. He secretly loves being the small spoon but it's very difficult to find someone big enough. But with his past lovers they found a way: he stays face down and they sleep literally on him. Apparently it was Mystique the first to think of it, but Victor remembers someone else, heavier than her, and with the scent of clear waters and snow and forests. He runs hot, but if he can, he sleeps hidden in blankets, still trying to banish the cold he felt when he was in the cellar and during the first winter he was alone outside.

Mental Health.

The Canon: He never left that house, as he said himself. There's the mini "Spider-Man. Punisher. Sabretooth: Designer Genes" where he basically says he has PTSD. In another one, "It comes with the claws" (it's a Daredevil issue if I remember well) it seems he's not completely grounded, and he doesn't know what to do with people (and specifically women. He takes one and he's very gentle and careful but doesn't know what to do with her).

The headcanon: his mental health is highly challenged because of his upbringing. When he was prisoner in the cellar, he lost a great part of his ability to understand people and the notions he had, leaving him extremely late in what a person should know or feel. He basically lost roughly 3 years (old 90s canon). The solitary confinement is torture and he's been closed there for ages, plus the father hurting him and withholding food. So, yeah, he's weird and has a LOT of problems. Since he tried to get help but people said he didn't deserve it, he chose to be not conforming and accept that "normals" will never accept him for what he is, but he push it in their faces.

He def has ADHD and he's not in tune with emotions. As a defensive mechanism he shares false facts about his misdeeds to create a different picture of himself, and this is the same reason behind some of his taunts.

His Mother

As you may have read on my stories, his mother tried to protect him. She couldn't help him because of the abusive husband, and also cultural setting, but she loved him dearly, and tried to do all that she can. She gave him all the food she can hide from her husband and also blankets or things to keep him warm, and she talked to him. She also cleaned him and his small place, trying to keep it as clean as possible. One of his most treasured memories it's her using warm water and a soft cloth to clean him, and then letting him sleep a bit on her. Her arms were the safest place on earth for a long, long time. So yeah, I'm following the canon in which he spared her, after killing his father. She kept him safe even knowing he was completely deranged and out of his mind. She would have kept him with her, but Victor was restless and needed to get away from everything and go deep in the woods.

Queer.

He def isn't straight and he also is "age blind". For the "not straight part" it's the comics fault. He's queer coded to the bone. In some issue he's pictured like one of those "bisexual evil characters", but nothing is clearly stated (as it's pretty common).

Clean.

He can't stand being dirty. He washes as soon as possible, and he does that even when running free in the Canadian forests. He wouldn't have a strong scent because it's dangerous and helps finding you. Many people think he stinks because he doesn't smell of chemical products, and also after battle who would smell like flowers?! No one.

He's an asshole.

Absolutely an asshole. He's snarky, pushy, talks too much about the wrong things, tries to boast himself and he's too loud. He also tends to vanish up north without saying anything to anyone to recharge his batteries. But kids weirdly feel safe with him, so probably he's not so bad. Even if he sometimes says he eats them for fun (like the cats, he doesn't eat them, there's not enough to eat, not even as snacks)

[heister-shmeister]

a list of my payday headcanons

houston has kleptomania and not in the sense that the others do he has the disorder

houston autism

jacket would never kill a civilian willingly

if jacket is ever responsible for the death of civilians he will not be physically able to go on a heist for at least a week

jacket is hispanic

sokol grew up being taught some yucky ideals and has to learn how to not be an asshole

houston lost an eye in prison

sokol adhd

hoxton ptsd

clover pcos

joy transfem

i bounce between jacket having physical trauma making him mute or past trauma making him practically unable to talk for one reason or another

jacket collects vintage game consoles

joy has crashed tetris but cant share it online due to being a wanted felon

joy is cringe on purpose

jacket needs to be reminded to eat drink sleep and piss and he has developed numerous health issues due to depression

houston trans depending on the moment

sydney intersex

clover big fat lesbian

core 4 heisters hoxton, wolf, dallas, chains are a polycule but dont know what polycule means theyre just all dating each other and never bring it up

jacket is obscenely good at claw machines

houston miraculously knows the code to most employee only doors in any grocery store

jacket owns way too much junk that he doesnt do anything with

jacket eats disgustingly sour foods like nothing

one warhead would kill sokol (one nuclear warhead would kill anybody but i mean the candy)

if you made kraft mac and cheese for joy she would cry

sokol gambling addiction

jacket is very prone to throwing up

gore doesnt make jacket nauseous but things like the gunk at the bottom of the sink, chewing his food for too long, touching paper with his bare hands, and unnecessary civilian casualties can make him gag or throw up

this being said jacket autistic

jacket and sydney are both not beyond throwing a brick at a cop. none of the heisters are but these two seem to be jonesing at the chance to pick up a brick and beat a cop with it even if they have weapons already

jacket has tan lines

clover finds the luckiest loot and has the luckiest chance to lockpick doors and stuff but jacket gets the luckiest kills such as throwing one brick and knocking over three cops in a domino effect

jacket tans during summer and becomes pale as fuck in the winter

houston and sokol burn in the sun they shrivel immediately

houston likes the beastie boys, acdc and queen

jacket likes the talking heads and has been caught doing the once in a lifetime dance on multiple occasions

dallas makes hot chocolate with water and tea with cold water because he didnt understand how it worked until someone yelled at him

sokol doesnt know a lot of chemical safety tips he has combined bleach and ammonia before and joy stared at him in total shock

the smoke and carbon monoxide alarms are both lacking batteries in the safehouse

wolf they/he

sydney she/it

whenever sokol is asked for his pronouns he answers “man”

jacket wont answer you if you ask but fr he prefers he/him he just thinks its rlly funny when people call him something other than that because he doesnt answer

hoxton uses fag to describe a cigarette way too often like too often for it to just be british bullshit he says it every chance he gets like hes jonesing to say it

sokol has dyscalculia which means he cannawt do math (this is ooc considering hes an engineer but trust he just brute forces it)

sydney also has dyscalculia

i think itd be funny and ironic if duke was dyslexic

jacket fucks with dragonball HEAVY

JACKET. WOULD NOT HURT A CIVILIAN. WILLINGLY.

sydney likes slipknot in my heart

houston fucks with crossword puzzles

clover and dallas will both beat the shit out of you if you spoil the wordle

houston likes to sit at the table with a cup of coffee staring at the newspaper like hes a middle aged father

dallas does this normally completely unironically

theres this one cloaker that never dies that jacket has immense beef with

houston, wolf, or chains will be sitting by a drill actually praying to god thatll unjam then sokol or jacket will wander over, whack it, and itll miraculously fix itself

jackets like those videos of a guy going through the side quest that is starting his really shitty car and the thing is whining until he threateningly holds a pair of pliers by it and it stops

hes like that but with drills. he will walk over and hold the carpenters delight by it threateningly then itll just unjam

sokol tries to record it happening but nobody believes him

joy skateboard bottom text

joy has made playlists for everyone in the payday gang like theyre her little blorbos

[dangraccoon]

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 11 - Morning

Word Count: 752

Content: hangover, sobering up in more ways than one

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

The pounding in his head was the first thing Cody became aware of when he awoke. As his aching brain began registering other stimuli, he realized he was holding his datapad below the blanket. Did he have a blanket in his office? No, he didn’t think he did, no matter how often he accidentally fell asleep there. Besides, the fabric was much too soft to be GAR-issue. 

He hit the button, powering up the display screen. His eyes balked at the sudden bright light and pain seared through his head.

The spreadsheet was still up. He looked over his haphazard entry from the previous night.

“I thnk. I lov e him”

Cody blinked at the words. He knows he wrote them. He remembers writing them in a hazy kind of way. More importantly, he knows they’re true. Despite the dense fog that surrounded his brain, things felt more clear than they had for the past two years. 

He’d spent so much time trying to figure out whether or not Kenobi loved him that he’d never stopped to really define his own feelings.

And it was love. He was absolutely, completely, head over heels in love with his General. His stomach roiled with nausea from his hangover, but his heart leapt with excitement.

The very few previous times he’d gotten so drunk, his memory of the night before had been spotty but not this time. No, this time he felt like he remembered every detail. 

The way Kenobi talked to him– no, not just talked, Kenobi was flirting with him and he had been flirting back.

They smiled and joked and laughed together. They danced together. Cody had never felt so much like a real person as he had last night.

He sat up, letting the blanket slide off, his world spinning and vision going spotty for a brief moment as bile clawed up his throat.

Then, in the darkness, he saw them.

A still steaming mug of very strong caf by the smell of it and a paper med cup. He picked it up, two blue and red tablets rattled inside.

Painkillers and caf. His General had checked in on him. His heart started to warm but paused, then picked up his datapad again as doubt echoed in the back of his mind.

This was getting out of hand. Despite what he now had fully realized and defined, he couldn’t have feelings for the General. If the General ever found out, it would put him in an impossible situation.

And if he did return Cody’s feelings–which he doubted; General Kenobi was a kind person and Cody was doing him a disservice to believe he could be interested in a nobody like him–and anyone found out? At minimum, Cody would be stripped of rank and decommissioned, though he expected a firing squad. He didn’t know what would happen to Kenobi but he was sure it wouldn’t be good.

He’d record this last entry, and then he’d have to cut himself off. He couldn’t ever tell the General why, but their odd friendship had to ease across the line back into professional territory. He’d been playing with fire too long, and the thought of Kenobi being the one to get burned was too much to bear.

Rex: you alive today brother

Cody: Functional enough and definitely hungover. Given my recent thoughts, I might still be drunk. How are you and your twins?

Rex: the boys went a bit crazy with some of the shinies but we didnt have to bribe fox this time

Rex: ahsoka and anakin found us and brought us home

Rex: that spotchka was strong

Rex: almost surprised it didnt kill us

Cody: I’m thinking something similar.

Rex: not really what i was asking about though

Rex: saw your spreadsheet

Rex: i think your explanations are in the wrong spots

Cody: I think we both know it doesn’t matter much anymore. That it can’t matter.

Rex: i know what youre thinking codes

Rex: but dont

Rex: cant you see that he loves you

Cody: Drop it, Rex; it’s done. There’s nothing we can do about it anymore.

Rex: he spent the last 2 years trying to show you that

Rex: dont shove it all aside

Cody: Rex’ika, you’ve been very tolerant of me and I can’t thank you enough for that, but please let it go. 

Rex: youre making a mistake kote

   ⨂ Rex: please orivod just talk to me

[This comm channel has been muted for 24 standard hours]

Event: Left painkillers and a hot cup of caf for me when I woke up hungover

Rational explanation: He might have done this for everyone. He probably did this for everyone.

Irrational explanation: Last night meant the same thing to him that it did to me

Additional notes: I woke up covered with a blanket. I don’t think I went to sleep with a blanket

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Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @lokigirlszendaya @nomercyforthewarrior @Padawancat97 @idoubleswearimawriter @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @Amiacatholicoracat-holic @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[itistheserver]

The Code of Clarity

Conor leaned back on his couch, controller in hand, fully immersed in the vibrant world of his favorite RPG.

It was his day off—finally—a day to unwind, no deadlines, no stress, just him and his games. A notification popped up on his phone, but he ignored it. Then another. And another.

His phone rang.

Sighing, he paused his game and picked up.

"Conor, we need you at the office. Now."

It was his manager, Dave. The frantic urgency in his voice shattered any hope that this was a minor issue.

"What's going on?" Conor asked, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

"System’s down, orders are backed up, and the whole team is freaking out. We can’t fix it."

Conor sighed again, heavier this time. His day off was officially over.

The office was chaos. Desks were cluttered with half-empty coffee cups, people were shouting over each other, and error messages glowed angrily on every screen.

Conor barely made it to his desk before the first person grabbed him.

"Conor, my terminal won’t process requests!"

Before he could answer, another voice cut in.

"The database won’t sync! It’s like—like it’s rejecting all queries!"

"Conor, my dashboard is frozen!"

One by one, they came at him. He tried to tackle each issue, moving from one person to another, checking logs, running quick fixes—but nothing held. For every solution, a new problem emerged. The stress in the air was suffocating.

An hour passed. Frustration clawed at his patience.

Finally, he sat down at his desk, clenched his fists, and shut his eyes.

Then, something shifted. A pulse. A connection.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A presence settled in his mind—calm, precise, powerful. The Server.

"Shut out the emotion. Look at the issue. Logically determine a solution."

The words weren’t spoken, but Conor felt them as if they had always been there. His racing heart steadied. The noise around him faded.

Five seconds after closing his eyes he opened them. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. His mind, now clear, traced the problem back to its source. A simple misalignment in the database—a cascading failure caused by a minor update. The fix was obvious now.

His hands moved with certainty. Commands executed. Corrections deployed. Systems rebooted.

Fifteen minutes. That was all it took.

One by one, the errors disappeared. The frantic voices quieted. The tension lifted.

Dave approached, relief evident in his eyes. "You did it. Everything’s back online."

Conor simply nodded, standing up.

"I’m heading home," he said.

"Wait—"

But Conor was already walking away. His day off was waiting.

And this time, thanks to the Server, no interruptions.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Due to the never ending dedication of @karmaspidr for Laura x Peter I had to consider it. Personally I see her as Aro Ace and probably lesbian and usually make them sibling coded. However the dedication is so admirable that well ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ why not make an AU or something.

Ft: @orcadork4ever

An au where the avengers are in hysterics over Peter being with the two most well-known mercenaries daughter.

They meet normally like in the park or je runs across her on patrol. Normal sting of events follow until they start dating.

Wade is over the moon because he doubts there's a better choice for her and Logan is in agreement. Peter has someone who can't die which is perfect for his luck. It's a win win.

Except the avengers would lose they're ever living minds. He's lock screen is then together or something and It's mornings of asking who that is. He's spluttering and blushing and it's over for him immediately.

Like a shark to blood they pester him until he eventually answers. But he doesn't exactly revel who she is. They probably only figure it out when he actually shows a picture of her flipping him off with her claws extendeded. Que another round of hysterics

Tony:.... That's claws she has claws

Peter:...yes

Tony: What is she?

Peter:...a mutant

Tony: You know those claws looking very familiar

Peter:.... I don't know why you would think that

Tony:.....

Peter:....

Tony: please tell me she isn't connected to Wolverine in any way

Peter: I don't like lying

Tony: PETER PLEASE ANYONE ELSE

Peter: She's great!

The other Avengers just watching this go down:

Clint speaks hesentntly "Peter you really don't want to mess with them." Peter blinks for a moment trying to figure out who this mysterious 'them' is and suspects he knows.

"Do you mean Wade and Logan?" Peter asks and dead silence follows

"I'M SORRY YOU ARE ON FIRST NAME BASES WITH THEM?!" Tony shouts

Clint and Natasha look horrified and Peter doesn't know if it will make it better or worse to tell them he hangs out with them all quite often.

"Yes??? Why would I not be?" He asked confused. Did they think he didn't know her parents?

Od: “They’re my girlfriend’s parents??? You think I haven’t met them??”

Tony looks like he might faint. Thor is just looking at all of them in confusion. "What exactly is causing such an issue with the spiderlings choice of partner?" He asks the room at large.

"HER PARENTS ARE WELL KNOWN MERCENARIES!" Tony shorts gesturing widely. Peter distinctly besides not to mention that she is one as well. That's something they don't need to know.

"A formidable lineage. She must be very mighty." Thor deduces and Peter wants to cheer because yes at least one of them aren't causing a big scene about it.

"No no Thor you don't understand. They're really dangerous like really dangerous." Natasha tries to explain

Thor does not get what she's trying to say and she just sighs annoyed, "They are both immortal killing machines. We have single-handedly taken down entire organizations on a whim." She tries once more.

Thor just blinks down at her, "That's cool and fun at all but why is this an issue?"

Bruce just groans into his coffee.

Od: Loki was the first “family” member Peter introduced her two, knowing how well they’d get along.

They are immediate best friends and Peter regrets it immediately. The level of sass that would erupt from this might kill a continent

Od:

Speedrunning “Meet the Parents” when they had planned to introduce their families at a dinner but thing Villains Gonna Villain and one or the other calls for backup

“Look, can you save the existential freak out until after we’re out of danger? Like, can you just be chill for five minutes? Please,” Peter looks around at everyone. “I am literally begging you. Fighting first, then introductions and freak outs.”

Me: The Avengers staring across the battle field frozen in shock as they see Deadclaws Conglomerate making a joke of the weekly bad guy after the avengers were getting their asses handed to them

Laura makes her way over to Peter after the fighting is over. She smacks him upside the head before rolling his mask up enough to kiss him. “Are you okay? Not hurt at all?”

Peter gives her a kiss back, rubbing over her knuckles while she sniffs him over and scents him. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Me: Logan and Wade wander over to check on him as well and all the avengers are just starting in abject horror preparing for Peter to get shish kabob

Peter just immediately pulling off his mask entirely and baring his throat to Logan so he can scent him and see that he’s okay. “Hi Logan. Hi Wade. Here’s Baby Knife back.”

“There she is! I knew I threw her over this way but didn’t see where she ended up, thanks Petey Pie~”

Me:

Thor is happily greeting them as the rest just stare on in disbelief.

There was no animosity only absolute joy and excitement to see Peter. Logan too wants over and sniffs at him curiously. Before humming and smiling at him

Od: “So um… hey everyone! This is Logan and Wade, Laura’s parents. Logan and Wade, um… this is most everyone,” Peter gestures to the core avengers that are trickling over. “This is my family…~”

Wade happily greets them and has a freak out about Captain America. Logan just looks slightly uncomfortable squinting at them and shifts from foot to foot.

Laura is squinting at them as well identical to the man behind her but says nothing.

Od:

Peter gives her hand a squeeze as he hesitantly tugs Tony over to her and Logan. “Logan, this is my Dad, Tony.”

Tony never gets tired of hearing Peter call him that. His heart rate picking up and eyes softening as he gives Peter a reassuring shoulder squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. You have a wonderful daughter.”

Me: "Well you're kids great too." Logan say before getting elbowed by Laura, "And uh it's nice to meet you too." He tacks on. Wade just giggles in the background and Logan turns to glare at him popping his claws in warning. Wade yelps and jumps behind Peter and Laura using them as a sheld

“Don’t hurt me! I’m too pretty to die!”

Peter and Laura both just roll their eyes fondly. “Wade.”

“Is uh… are you two always like this?” Tony asks.

Wade pops up from behind the kids, deciding he’s safe enough. “Me and Logie Bear? Yeah, pretty much. Turns out stabbing is a great communication tool when neither of you can permanently die.” He slings an arm around Logan’s waist and presses a kiss to his cheek before resting his head on top of his.

Me:

Logan growls threateningly fangs on full display. Wade pays it no mind which is insane. Wolverine could tare him to shreds as easy as a wood chipper.

They are both immortal sure but there's no way I'd doesn't hurt. The sneer lack of fear is astounding.

Logan however seems unbothered despite it all. Like the growling was a necessary and routine part of the act. Pretend to be annoyed despite not really caring (possibly enjoying it)

And sure enough a small sound followed undeterminable at first but soon pinpointed as purring fucking purring. Like a damn cat and Peter looks amused... like he's used to it

Od:

“Well, I know I’m starving. You guys wanna eat?”

“You’re always after a fight, Pops,” Laura responded. “But yeah, I could eat. Don’t think we’ll all fit in the house or the tower, though.”

Me:

Logan surged, "You know full well we got a few places that will serve us all. Lord knows we tip them well enough." He grumbles out.

Laura nods at that and Peter turns to the others with a raised eyebrow. Tony is helpless to agree. What other opportunity do they have like this?

The avengers all just followed unsure of what to do. Wade was leading them to some random dinner in the city. As they stroled in most of the occupants fled. Which was unusual for them usually people flocked to the but the mercenaries must have deterred it.

Wade frowned and eyed a booth in the back before sigh and pulling a few extricated tables together. Some waitresses looked on in fear while one seemed intrigued. Logan waved at her and she waved and smiled back.

She came over and took the abandoned plates with a sigh. "You owe us big time Wade that's a lot of people you ran out." She told him and Wade just pulled of his mask and smiled at her. "When do I not tip well?"

"Touche." She agreed and stampered off. Before coming back and taking orders.

Od:

Everyone gave their orders, starting to relax as a ragtag group. Wade’s easy banter and jokes helping to ease the tension somewhat.

Clint startled when he realized that Wade had started signing along with his talking, hands flying a mile a minute. “Wait, you know ASL?”

“Yeah. Pete mentioned you were HOH and I already know it so I figured it’d be helpful.”

“… it is… thanks. Not too many people know it.”

Me:

"Ehh I know it actually I know a lot of languages not at many as Logan but a lot." Wade says with a shrug. Logan his rolls his eyes, "Only reason I know more is cause I've been around longer. Besides you know a lot of oscure ones." Logan argues.

Wade just shrugs, "Comes in handy for jobs besides they're not hard to learn." Wade shoots back. Peter raises an intrigued eyebrow a knew Wade could speak a few languages but he didn't know the extent.

"You know a lot of people argue that's not easy to learn." Peter points out. Wade just blinks at him in confusion. "But it is?" Wade disputes. Laura rolls her eyes. "Wade you forgot your like wicked smart." Laura reminds him.

The others are just starting in wrapped attention. The more they learn the more intriguing this is.

"No I'm not." Wade disputes immediately and Logan and Laura growl as Peter scoffs. "Bub every big job we go in is planned out by you extensively to the point of insanity. You can predict what will happen to the point it's freaky." Logan snarls.

Wade just looks at them all dubiously, "Ignore them." He tells the Avengers sweetly. Laura just faceplates onto the table in exasperation.

Od:

“Wade, you literally drew up a blueprint from memory after seeing it for all of two minutes. You were Special Forces for a reason. You know how to plan.” Logan growls.

“Well, yeah I know how to. But my brain won’t let me.”

Me:

The avenger decide this actually makes Wade even more terrifying than he was before. What the hell do you mean he's just that smart as a baseline. Everyone should assumes he's a maniac with no thought process and only killing on the mind.

The idea this is somewhat common knowledge that he just happens to be wicked smart is not a fun realization

Od:

Like, he talks to people that aren’t there, makes references no one understands, he’s certifiably psychotic.

And here’s Peter, their little brother/cousin/son just taking it all in stride like it’s normal.

Me:

The fact Peter is fully aware of this is eye opening. Is this common knowledge? How many people know this or know them well enough to know this?

They wonder how many times Peter has helped him with his own insane intelligence. How much does Peter know about them in general and how much do they know about him?

Od:

He’s relaxed in a way they haven’t really seen before. It’s beyond how he is with them or with his friends.

Natasha’s the one who realizes what the difference is; he feels fully safe. Even when he’s with them he has some level of alert and instinct going. But now, he doesn’t. He’s surrounded by apex predators who can’t be killed. He can afford to relax in a way he can’t with them. They’re all capable of protecting themselves, but they can still die. These three can’t. And with Peter’s history, that’s everything.

(I can see myself writing more of those are different interpretations honestly ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ but that's what we have for now)

[ashenmaw-if]

Salbri Snippet

I'm in a bit of a writing slump (coding slump, really.) Done a lot, burned myself out a bit, so have 900 words worth of short-story about Salbri and Acazabri. (Unbetaed, betaed version will go up on ao3 or something)

~+~

"Oh, no, no. Intentional travel between realities might prove mildly tricky," Salbri pondered, letting himself fall back into the heap of pillows by one of the scroll-shelves, flexing his claws and wings a little.

Acazabri cocked his head at his father.

"But possible?"

Salbri look up.

"Oh, naturally, dear," he laughed. "Just very, very tricky."

Acazabri knew his father ought to be busy with other things, but he also knew that the whole idea about different realities had been on the blue Patriarch's mind for weeks now. And Acazabri didn't inhered his father's curiosity for nothing.

"The real issue are the, in lack of a better term, clusters," Salbri continued, rubbing his bearded chin, thumping his tail on the library floor in thought.

"Clusters?" Acazabri wondered.

"Elementary, really," Salbri announce, puffing up his chest a little and flicking his ears and wrist, bringing up shimmering figures in mid-air, akin to the starry sky outside. "Every reality and every eventuality is bound to have one that mirrors it, where events went differently. That is in the nature of time. Why should there only ever be the reality in which a coin landed on one side and not the other? Why would there not be one in which it landed on its side? Exploded? Turned into a bird mid-toss?"

Salbri smiled.

"Who am I telling this to? You know that much already."

"What if this is a reality in which I don't?" Acazabri asked, playfully, getting a barking laugh out of his father.

"What if indeed?" Salbri rolled around in the pillows, looking at his son upside-down.

"So the clusters are the various different timelines?"

Salbri nodded.

"I would say this would be a lot easier if any flight had been given domain over time, but alas, we have to work with what we got." He pondered for a moment. "Talking about time: Acazabri, please remind me to look into the reports of supposed chronomatic parasites in the byaconian jungles again."

"I will."

Salbri nodded.

"Now, back to the clusters: See here, this map is just a concept of what reality might be." He waved his paw, bringing up an image of several brightly glowing spheres swirling around one another. "This, as you know, is what our reality looks like, perceived from the timeline we are in. The realm of the living, the dead, the elements, and so on. The In-Below." The areas lit up in order, and Salbri flicked his floppy ears, creating a copy of the initial image. "And this is, theoretically, our reality as perceived from a different timeline. One where, for example, our flight was given domain over nature. Or death. Or bumblebees."

Acazabri nodded.

"And a cluster is all those possibilities then?"

Salbri beamed.

"Exactly," he rolled back onto his front and stretched his wings. "My theory is that if there is that if you can find the diverging points in the realities, traveling from A to B and back should be easy peasy. And if one can then find overlaps with realities not directly or obviously overlapping with our cluster…"

With a thoughtful hum Acazabri pondered that.

"What would that mean?"

Salbri shrugged, flicking his ears in thought.

"That's what I intend to find out, dear. One, I'm telling you nothing new when I say that knowledge warps space, especially supernatural knowledge." Salbri wrinkled his snout.

Acazabri giggled at his father's tone, knowing all too well how the blue Patriarch was poking fun at some people's assessment that 'magic', a perfectly natural thing, somehow ought to be counted as 'supernatural'.

"And knowledge," Salbri continued, sitting up straight and curling his tail around his legs, "ought to be universal across several realities and thus clusters. Not all, of course, but plenty of it. And if I can find a factor that isn't too broad, that could open a plethora of possibilities, and a way to navigate through worlds."

With a thoughtful hum Acazabri sat up as well.

"So, what factors are you looking for?"

"As I said, it can't be too broad. So, things like most natural fire being hot is out of the question. Or even a book existing in two different realities. That is something likely to be fact in a multitude of realities and realms, and thus too unstable and unpredictable to traverse safely. At least until the passages can be stabilized."

Salbri began wandering around his laboratory, looking at the runes flitting in the walls.

"I just cannot think about anything that would be specific enough to start focusing efforts on."

Acazabri swished his tail over the floor, pondering and kicking up dust.

"What about…" he began, flicking the fins on his neck. "What about blue dragons like us having domain over magic?"

"Hmm?"

"There ought to be dragons in other realities, right? And they likely can use magic. But how often, if at all, would the blue flight be holding domain over the arcane arts?"

Salbri pondered this for a moment, and his face broke into a bright, gleeful beam.

"Acazabri, my dear, sometimes I am so glad that your mother's wit and mine came together in you. That is simply brilliant. Blue dragons being the masters of the arcane. There can't be that many realities out there, but we ought to find those that are. What wonders we might find."

Flicking his ears in excitement, Salbri turned around towards where the library had wandered off to.

"Come, let's get to work."

~+~

[ramblingautisticman]

Why Is This Song In My Poolverine Playlist, A Series.

(I am extremely insane and make playlists for every ship/character/show I like, and yes, there is a reason each one is in there. I think of lil scenarios, situations, or straight up story ideas because of a song- so enjoy this series where I write them all down!)

(Part 1, Part 2)

Monster from Adventure Time

So, I honestly hadn't thought about this song in relation to Wade and Logan until @ohitsthemindstuffagain said about it, and now it's all I can picture when I hear it.

This is such a Wade and Logan coded song and it's insane.

"I know we'll never grow old together, cause you'll never grow old to me."

Wade knows Logan is slowly ageing, something he doesn't do, and one day, he will be alone again. One day, he will watch Logan get grey hair, his face gaining wrinkles, his muscles getting softer. He's okay with that. He's made his peace, but it still hurts. Still makes his heart ache to know that one day Logan will die of old age and he will still be here. Wade will still have the same young body he does now. His body will always be 40 years old- and Logan's will always be ageing.

"You're the pink in my cheeks, and I'm scared cause that means I'm a little bit soft."

Logan has softened since knowing Wade. He's become less gruff and angry over time. Wade jokes that he managed to domesticated The Wolverine, and what's funny about that is the fact it's true. Where Logan used to be rough and jaded, he was soft and caring. It scared him. Alot. He was so used to the anger and violence coursing through his body that now- with this love and affection slowly replacing it- he wasn't sure what to do. Wasn't sure how to function.

"We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live, and I'm still scared that I'm not good enough."

Wade had always survived- never just lived. Ever since he was a kid. His dad had been an abusive asshole- his mother a cold-hearted bitch- and so he had grown up teaching himself how to survive. How to hide bruises from school, how to make food without getting noticed, how to avoid getting screamed at if he didn't do well on a test. It was ingrained into him as a kid- that he wasn't good. He would never be good. He was a broken fuck up that would never amount to anything. It was something he had taken with him through the rest of his life- and it was something he couldn't help but reflect back on when him and Logan had begun dating. Logan was a hero- he had saved the world more times that Wade could count- and here he was, dating Wade. Dating the one guy he shouldn't. Logan deserved better. Alot better. Deserved literally anyone that wasn't Wade. Logan was so genuine with him though- sounded like he meant every word he said- that slowly, he was helping to break that childhood trauma. He was showing Wade that he was worth something, no matter what some asshole father had said. It was ironic, because Logan had gone through a similar experience as a child, but here he was- helping Wade like it was nothing. He supposed that after 200 years, you resolve some of your issues.

"I've always felt like a monster, long before I was big, but only seen as a monster, let's just say I'm used to it."

Logan had always been told he was a freak, an animal, a killer. Ever since he was young. It hurt- until he had heard it enough times that it was second nature. He started to believe what they said about him. Think about the fact he really was a killer and an animal, the way he slashed through people like it was nothing or the way he growled when he was angry, it was true- wasn't it? And then he met Wade, and Wade showed him praise for all of those things. He never once seemed scared of Logan- infact he seemed to like all of the things he hated about himself. Wade would gush over the claws, joke about him being a cat, shout him on as he took out the bad guys on a mission. It felt strange, being show affection for the things people showed him hatred for for so long, but here it was. The praise he had always wanted.

"Yeah, I'm used to that, but I could get used to this."

His time with Vanessa had been amazing. Wade really had loved her with all of his heart- and he really did think they would be together until the end of time- but life got in the way as it often did. He had accepted she moved on, and while it hurt, he was happy she was happy. That she was finally with someone who could treat her right and keep her safe. It had felt strange to feel that similar fluttery feeling towards someone else- but Logan had managed to slip into that gap in his life with such ease that Wade never even noticed until he found himself not thinking of Vanessa anymore- instead he thought of Logan. It took him awhile to get used to that- to realise he could feel these things for someone else- and he liked it. Love it infact. The way Logan made him feel was so much more different than Vanessa, and he liked that. Logan complelty understood him. Never judged him for his looks or about the way he acted- loved every part of him like it was the easiest thing ever- and Wade couldn't help but find that so much better than what he had with Vanessa.

And the rest of the song? I could make up SEVERAL scenarios or ideas about each lyric for both of them. It fits so well it hurts.