#?????? kind of???????? jic I suppose

[averlym]

may 19 is anne boleyn’s deathday ~holiday anon

paid the price with the swordsman's swing

[archersartcorner]

“To think I thought you must’ve hated me…”

“My child… I could never.”

When does Volo get to talk to Arceus GF. Nintendo. Pokemon Company. Let him HAVE HIS MOMENT WITH GOD-

ID below cut!

[ID: Four sketchy, non-colored, digital images done in Procreate. They feature Volo, who has long, dark hair, that lightens out at the ends, and parts to the right to cover the (viewers) right side of his face; a squared face; a wide nose; full lips; and a hint of scarring underneath where his hair is covering his face. He’s wearing eye makeup that mirrors the design of Arceus’ eyes. The images of Volo are only chest-up, but he’s wearing a “kimono” and vest reflective of traditional Ainu wear (I unfortunately could not find the proper terms for the clothing), drawn in a way that mirrors the design of Arceus. Arceus is also present, a Pokémon that is goat-like in appearance, but if that goat was a god and had eight eyes and was almost 11 feet tall and it’s head was elongated. Fucked up goat.

The first image is Arceus staring at the viewer, but implied to be staring at Volo off panel. They appear to be crying. They say, “I wouldst never claim to be a perfect deity. Contrarily… Thou art the imperfect creations of an imperfect god. A mere fragment of one greater, with only a fragment of thine’s divine abilities. However…”

The second image is of Volo, looking to Arceus off panel, grief and sadness present in his face. Arceus continues, “… I love each and all of mine creations more deeply than thou might imagine. Thine included, even if thoust does not believe it. … Had I the ability to create my world without suffering, so that mine own creations I adoreth so much need never be troubled… I would have.”

The third image shows both Volo and Arceus. Volo has his head bared down, not looking Arceus in the eye, tears trailing down his face. It’s hard to discern from Arceus, but they appear to be saddened as well. Arceus continues again, “… I love you, Volo. But I have let thou down. Let thine people down… I am sorry. I was… never as strong as thou all believeth me to be… an imperfect god, indeed.”

The final image shows Volo and Arceus again from the same angle, but Arceus is resting their head on Volo’s forehead, their eyes closed. Volo is reaching a hand up to Arceus in a comforting manner, now looking Arceus in the face. Volo says, “Oh creator Arceus… What I wouldn’t give to understand your divine psyche, your doubts and uncertainties that feel so… human. I know them well, my lord… I wish I could ease your fears. Divinity must be a difficult burden to bear…” Arceus responds, “It is a burden I would not wish upon anyone… certainly not thou, who hast been through so much…”

END ID.]

[transgaysex]

i feel like how i feel just is both justified and unjustified

[hidingoutbackstage]

Okay so Tucker and Kaikaina in Shisno Paradox. Idk how long this is gonn be but it’s gonna go below a cut jic (and so I don’t spoil anything for June lol)

I think the easiest thing they could’ve done to make this dynamic better is just have them reciprocate each others lust from the beginning. Is it funny that Tucker gets rejected by Kai when she proposes time travel sex bc he thinks she’s talking about him? Is it funny that he fucks up her attempts to have sex with people from the past? Is it funny that he has been bragging about having done her back in Blood Gulch and that’s not actually the case (despite the fact that Kai literally says that they did during the s13 climax)? I guess? But you know what else is funny? Tucker and Kai actually going back in time and having sex with people from history. Like I feel like that has just as much, if not more comedic potential than the two of them just being annoyed with each other. I know this is the “everyone is arguing with each other because fuck friendships for some reason” arc but like it didn’t have to be.

Personally I was laughing when Kai and Tucker were talking about using the time travel gun for sex, like that was funny! The episode was literally TITLED “Sis and Tuck’s Sexcellent Adventure” and then they just drop that in favor of these two arguing. Like come on that’s not as funny at all.

They didn’t have to have reciprocated feelings (as much as I personally like them as a ship), there’s nothing wrong with characters having physical attraction to each other and acting on it. Hell up until now it was implied that they did actually have sex. I suppose the idea that they didn’t is kind of a funny subversion of expectation but the direction they go with it isn’t rlly entertaining, at least for me.

And if the intent was to get to the angsty Kai backstory, you could’ve still gotten there! Maybe she and Tucker try to do the time travel sex, but she gets tired/worn out before Tucker does and he doesn’t listen to her when she suggests they take a break from time traveling for a bit, dragging her along to the time periods HE wants to go to without considering her feelings. Still kinda sucks as Tucker characterization bc he should realistically be better than that, but it’s better than what the hell we got that’s for sure.

Anyway she could still blow up at him for being selfish and then they might argue and then later on they can have the heart to heart where she talks about her childhood and being promiscuous due to her insecurity about her own self image, and instead of saying “Tucker what you said reminded me of my trauma” it’s more of a reflection, kind of “Hey as my friend I want to let you know why I’m like this in the first place and why I was so insecure/nervous about saying no to going along with your adventure” and Tucker could still apologize and all that.

Then maybe a confession of feelings from Tucker so he gets a moment of vulnerability too, and like I said as much as I ship them I do kinda like Kai’s “I used to have feelings for you too” cuz ik this season didn’t actually care about these two as a ship, and Tucker demonstrates maturity by showing he’s okay with her rejection.

Although if they DID wanna make them a ship, there’s not a ton that actually has to change in the script for that to happen. (in my version not the version of SP we canonically got) They already get along like friends, they had sex before, and when they had an argument from Tucker being a bad friend, they worked through it. All you’d rlly need is for Kai to eventually come to the conclusion that she rlly likes Tucker, and that at some point, it stops being just as friends and she really wants him, and seeing as Tucker already has feelings for her but cares about her enough to not act on them, there might be some hesitation there but I think they’d make a rlly good pairing after that. Their sense of humor is already similar, they already get along, and they’re just so cute together ugh I’m getting distracted anyway it would make the moment everyone gets thanos snapped to repeat their timelines till infinity where he says “K I need to tell you-” all the more emotional, at least to me, bc that moment lives rent free in my brain anyway I just wanted better writing for these two is that too much to ask

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

I was thinking about Kohlrabi's, North's, and Keiko's relationships with the Holdfasts and got hit with the realisation that Keiko, steadfast, cocky, too-adult-for-her-own-good Keiko is scared of Cavalero

North finds out about this either via a tiny dropped hint from Lanius, or from their own observations. And look, North already doesn't like Cavalero. They find him to be intimidating and unpleasant and potentially dangerous in the "I don't want the kids or myself spending a lot of time around an attitude like That" way. Learning that Keiko is somehow scared of the guy doesn't make North feel any less intimidated but they Do progress to "if he gets within ten feet of either of the kids I will have to do something about it jic"

(Things would go v differently if Higgins was already around and autonomous at this point bc Higgins is a tiny package of bad ideas begging to be executed and he'd probably have some inadvisable ways of dealing with this. But for better or for worse, Higgins is not yet around)

The reason Keiko is scared of Cavalero?

Well

Back before the attempted jump to Tau, things were already going to shit in the law and discipline department. We know that there was dissent and that those caught doubting the mission of the Zariman were "made an example of." In good ole Orokin fashion, getting glassed was probably a public execution kind of ordeal

People had every reason to give a wide berth to any enforcer of the law stationed aboard the ship

And Keiko? Keiko was what some might call a problem child. Stubborn and sharp-tongued and not one to be pushed around. Only obeying rules she found to make sense. A lot of this was ofc considered disrespect and misbehaviours, and combined with the fact that Keiko overall didn't get along well with her peers, it made her really easy to throw under the bus

She had seen the glassings, probably saw worse too, things she wasn't meant to, and she was disliked and misbehaving by just talking back and standing up for herself, and in the end, can you really blame her for believing those in charge of her when they'd said that if she continued down this path, she'd be taken away by the enforcers too? It was an attempt to intimidate some sense into her. To get her to behave. No enforcer would've cared to apprehend a mouthy kid, no teacher or classmate or cephalon would've gone to the lengths of actually calling them on Keiko, but she had no way to know the threats weren't genuine. No one had ever told her they weren't genuine

To Keiko, Cavalero was a ruthless, flesh-and-blood boogeyman

And now? Back aboard the Zariman? She's just supposed to trust him? When he's just standing there, acting like an ally, giving out weapons? Weapons?! To her?!

Cavalero, Quinn, a goddamn Archimedean, they can all go rot in void corruption for the rest of eternity for all Keiko cares. She doesn't trust them. No one should trust them. The only one she's willing to be around is Hombask bc Hombask had tried to help, thought that sabotaging the biomes would keep things from going to hell, and good thing she's the farthest away from the rest too, so Keiko doesn't have to look at them. Hombask lets her hang around and always has fun garbage to sort through and offered to help her assemble furniture, and even if that's not an offer Keiko would ever take her up on, it's noted

[nyandereneko]

Something that's stood out to me and ended up meaning a lot to me because my self esteem is nonexistent...I think part of what draws me to Hei so intensely is that he’ll keep anyone around him that he cares about regardless of whether they drag him down or not. Like, he did everything, and I mean everything for Yin when they were on the run, because she literally can’t/couldn’t do anything for herself. He fed them both, found places for them to stay, arranged all of their lodging and transportation, made sure they had suitable clothes and just the basic necessities in general to survive, and singlehandedly fought the waves and waves of enemies the Syndicate sent after them to exterminate them. I mean, her autonomy was developing, but aside from that she wouldn’t be able to help him do anything utility wise anyway, all she can do is keep watch. She can’t fight or take care of any maintenance things or even really interact with people...

And I’d have to go back and find the actual context/quote but in the manga that’s set between seasons people ask Hei multiple times why he’s carrying dead weight, why he brings “useless” people with him into battle, why he keeps them close despite the fact that they can’t do anything to help him or make things easier, they only make things more difficult because it’s just more for him to worry about/keep track of than just himself...but aside from not giving an answer, he also just doesn’t care. Like. He keeps them around because he wants to, period. Doesn’t matter how much harder it makes things for him, doesn’t matter if they’re helpful or completely useless. He cares for Yin so guess what, Yin sticks by his side no matter what. Of course, there’s also the fact that she’s the only one that can snap him out of things, so like usually if his mind is being manipulated by a power or something, hearing her say his name helps because it gets him back in working order quicker than if he tried to break through or fight the influence himself...but still. The fact that other people in universe point out that he keeps “dead weight” around because he wants to, and it doesn’t bother him, or at least not enough to do anything to change his habits, means a lot to me. Because any time I start feeling bad about myself (which is just. Perpetually lmao) and I worry I wouldn’t be helpful or useful enough, at least I can fall back on the idea that I’d be slightly above that baseline because I can take care of basic tasks and would actually insist on doing so...so that’s already some benefit in my favor lmao.

And that doesn’t even factor in that Nova is genuinely helpful in a lot of different ways, she can fight to a certain extent and she has healing powers which are, quite literally, a lifesaver...but sometimes I just gotta try to feel better about plain old lame unimpressive me in general, even though I’d never pair him with me in that way, I prefer to use Nova as my catalyst for shipping because she’s actually fun and more worthwhile than plain old me...but it’s nice to think that he might still be inclined to keep plain old me around under different circumstances, just because that’s the kind of person he is.

[arcadequeerz]

* what are some of ur ideaz !! im not Super familiar with scribblez but i wanna know !! (if u wanna share ofc oseihfnc)

AAA OKIE- I'll share what me n my friend Kit have rambled about, am just gonna: copy n paste it from discord, so if it's worded weirdly/formatted oddly that is Why! This isn't all set in stone, but its like- what we've come up with Thus Far and I love it: so much. So Not all of it is like. Fully thought out.

TW For Blood? Unreality? Idk if I need 2 tw for that, but JIC- nOTHING rly detailed so dw.

Catboy Steven is me, and Men's Tits Enthusiast is my friend Kit NKGJMFKDSJNG

Men's Tits Enthusiast: So, this is still going to be kinda BATIM-ish in that it's based on cartoons, but it's kinda hard to think of something that doesn't involve something Vaguely BATIM related tbh--

This is the most basic idea without any proper details but. Scribbles being a cartoon character and he's the first one to notice that this life he's living is actually a cartoon - no one else around him notices, but Scribbles will have moments of clarity, thinking about how he's sure he's lived out this day before, or that the world seems... flat, with moments of darkness that he can only vaguely remember (aka, the same episode is running again, or the TV has been turned off or the channel has changed)

I don't know what cartoon character he'd be or what show or anything (that stuff is more for you to do to add detail n everything) but I was thinking that Scribbles isn't just this cartoon character - he's the cartoon character that is currently on that television

I don't know how to explain it but basically, Scribbles is just the version of that character that is connected to one TV - he's the only version of this character that is self aware. Another TV in another house can be playing the show at the same time as him but that's not him, just another version playing out the same cartoon world as the same character

When Scribbles finally comes to the conclusion that he's not this character, he's not even really a person, he finally becomes Scribbles but instead of being made of ink he's made of static

Basically think of this as almost like the Truman Show in a way

Anyway that's all I got JFBBC

I hope that makes some lick of sense at least

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: OK. OK OK I RLY FUCKING LOVE THAT I LOVE THAT SO MUCH

Men's Tits Enthusiast: :D mission accomplished

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: Immediate thought of how fuckin sick it would be seeing him crawl out of the tv-

Men's Tits Enthusiast: YEAH YEAH Especially if he's made of static Like any nearby electronics would just go wild- I thought that this would be a good way of keeping Scribbles as Scribbles and everything while it still being Different

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: yeaA YEA!!! I THINK IT IS TOO.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: Also I was thinking that maybe Scribbles looks the way he does in this bc he's basically borrowing body parts/features from other cartoon characters on his show, because he's just static that doesn't have a proper identity when he realises what he is so he morphs into this amalgamation-type figure bc he doesn't know how else to look

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: Immediately got some ideas.

That He's in the tv of some? family home- And just as they can watch him on tv he can see THEM through the tv. He can't really hear them- but he can see them Watching him.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: OOO YE-

what if, he can't see them at first, or at least he doesn't notice them bc he's not supposed to - it's essentially a blind spot until he gets moments of clarity and that's when he realises there are people watching him

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: yes yes yes yes yes. also yes abut the whole- amalgamation thing- I LOVE THAT idea.

I'm kind of seeing it as like- The world is like? flat- 2d- but he can like- look to his side, and see the like- Screen of the tv- and he can see through that to whoever it is that's watching him.

Immediate thought of like..The house has gone through: a lot of families, And he's seen a l o t of people pass through the houses doors. He grows attached to these people! How could he not? He's meant to entertain them afterall!

Men's Tits Enthusiast: Whenever the channel changes or the TV is off, Scribbles and the show don't stop existing but they do just... stop

Every character will be frozen in place, just mindlessly waiting for everything to start again. They don't consciously register this because they don't have any levels of self awareness - they don't know that this is all fake, just a cartoon on a TV

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: AAAAAAA

Men's Tits Enthusiast: God I just realised something

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: I LOVE THT. But also the idea of like. when the TV is shut off it just. Theres Nothing- No one- He's alone, and he has No One. It's dark and silent and Empty. He can sort of make out the shapes of the other characters in the dark, but they don't move. They don't talk- But he can.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: This is basically just Doki Doki Literature Club in a way-

Scribbles is the only conscious one here, he's the only one who knows what this all is, even if it does take him a while to actually fully figure it out

When he does get closer to understanding though, he comes to the realisation that his friends just. Aren't real. They could be, if they become self aware like he is, but right then they're just... nothing

Scribbles has known his friends for his entire life, he automatically knows all the canon, everything about them, but none of that is real. It's all scripted, all acted, all just completely and utterly mindless

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: YEAH. YES. He knows that there is no real semblance of self.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: Just thought of some like, internal dialogue for him-

Just.

"I want to be real. But I don't think I am"

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: AUUG.YES. GOD IDEA:

Men's Tits Enthusiast: Also was thinking that the moments of clarity Scribbles has aren't always the same: lots of the time he's conscious but only enough to be able to think - he still doesn't have control of his body, he's still moving it to the script and saying everything he should, but internally he's very briefly himself

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: So When the TV is off, It's just. Darkness, nothing- empty besides the other characters stood in place, unmoving- not talking- He kind of just. Talks to them. Rambles to them because well, he has nothing else he can do now can he!

yYEAH. I am imagining he can try and break character- but it like. Breaks everything else when he does, or tries to.

Also thinking that he can still like, see out of the TV when its off. So He can see whatever people are doing through the screen while its off but they can't see Him. So he kinda just. Watches Them, or talks to the other characters, just does whatever he can to keep himself busy. When the family is asleep, and the tv is off, is when its the hardest- because he truly just. Feels Alone. He tries telling him his friends are here! But. They aren't really.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: When he first tries stepping closer to the people outside, he quickly realises there's an invisible wall between them so he can't

He'll stand against it sometimes though, just watching the world pass by

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: He likes to watch. I'm also thinking that there's a few times where he's tried to get through to people who've lived in the house. It never really. Goes the way he wants it to.

He's seen a lot of people pass through the house over the years. so many people. He tries very hard to remember their names. He sometimes wonders why he's there? Why there is: Anything. And why he is a constant.

me:

my brain: what if Scribbles sees someone get murdered in the house?

me: why would you say this.

Men's Tits Enthusiast: HAS HE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: I GUESS NOT! It has a big impact on him.

I'm imagining that- the person broke in the house, It's the dead of night when it happens- He's just leaned back against the screen of the tv when he finally notices that: Someones there, and its not someone he's ever seen in the house before this- He's naive, he doesn't realize they have bad intentions: dude doesn't even know what murder is!

Men's Tits Enthusiast: he doesn't even know what death is either- he doesn't comprehend what he's actually seeing

Catboy Steven 🌈🐈: YEAH.

It kinda- Breaks him I guess- He doesn't know why the person has a knife. He doesn't know why they're putting it into the other person- He doesn't understand what all the red is- It gets on the screen. He doesn't understand why the person isn't moving, lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood as the person's over them.

I'm imagining that: the person looks up from the body, and it's almost like they make eye contact with him. The person stares at the tv screen, theres blood on their face. For a moment, it feels like they're looking at him- It makes something snap in him. After a few seconds they wipe the blood off their face and stand up and leave the room.

He just stands there in completely silence, watching the unmoving body on the floor.

[white-tulips]

well, since it’s 5 in the morning I think now’s the perfect time to ramble about my thoughts re: OMORI vs Yume Nikki game design, Black Space, and how trying to copy something successful kind of sets you up for missing the mark 

these are thoughts I’ve been stewing in since january, I don’t want people to forget that I have a lot of opinions about OMORI as a game

(firstly, I’m sorry if this is all over the place or not worded well. it is 5AM)

I’ll preface this by saying that these are merely my opinions. I’m specifically going to be focusing on one aspect of game design here, so if you’re curious about any of my other OMORI game design opinions they’re scattered around my blog and are not hard to find tbh

okay so my thoughts about this are mostly Black Space exclusive, and considering that’s one of the climaxes of the game this might be a bit of a spicy subject to talk about KJFGHKFJG but I am passionate about good game design okay. especially in psychological horror RPG games. (also throwing out there jic that I don’t think OMORI is a bad psychological horror. pls reference this post) 

(also want to say that I genuinely like Black Space. okay? okay)

so this was something that I was talking about with a couple of friends back when I first finished OMORI around the beginning of january. actually, at this point I hadn’t even played Yume Nikki yet, but when I did finally play it recently my thoughts on this were 100% solidified

essentially, our thoughts on this can be boiled down to how Black Space was trying too hard to be Yume Nikki, but didn’t grasp exactly what made Yume Nikki so impactful in the first place

obviously taking inspiration from something you like and wanting to rework it into your own creation is normal, good, and even encouraged! however, the most crucial thing with that is the “reworking” part.  when being inspired by something, the goal is to take what you loved, and didn’t love, and mold it into something entirely new. it shouldn’t be “well I like this thing, and this thing did it like this so I’ll try to do it like that too” because it’s just not going to work. (this is actually an all around issue I have with OMORI, not just Black Space, but more on that later)

so to me, a good 50% of Black Space came of feeling kind of... eh...? it was like... you have 50% that feels so well thought out and meaningful, and then 50% that’s there just to. be there. and be like Yume Nikki, I guess. even before I played Yume Nikki, I couldn’t even remember some of the rooms in Black Space existed until I replayed it again, which is a shame because Black Space is the type of area where everything should leave an impact

now I want to talk about the game design itself-

Yume Nikki is a game about experiences, and atmosphere. there’s limitless area to explore, so much so that it feels endless. there are so few things to interact with that sometimes it feels like you’re doing nothing at all. all you have is aimlessly wandering these huge areas, taking in the sights, and listening to vague sounds and music in the background that are often just a few seconds of audio played on loop. (this is one of my favorite OST in the game. having this be all you hear for 30 minutes as you walk around in a looping forest really does things to your head)

it uses all of these elements to make you feel lost, confused, and very alone. you’re just trapped in a dream, where even with all the space in the world to explore, the lack of anything to do makes it feel suffocating. even the small area you have in the waking world is designed in such a way that feels cramped and destitute-

Yume Nikki is a perfect example of “less is more” and “show, don’t tell.” 

then take OMORI, which doesn’t really know how to balance those things with it’s tendency to try and shove too much in. for instance, think about the over abundance if NPCs with irrelevant fluff dialogue. it was all too much and so dull it got to a point I stopped reading most of them altogether

(and something important to note I think, is that the general feeling of Yume Nikki is the same throughout the entire game. the tone never really changes, and neither do the expectations. OMORI, however, tends to just drop things on you out of nowhere. and that’s not necessarily a bad thing! it works for a lot of different sections of the game, I’ll say. 

however, Black Space was different. it’s kind of like, it just drops you in there and expects you to understand the way it works, despite the fact that all of the other horror segments lead you to have a completely different set of expectations for what you should be doing/feeling. it’s like shifting you into another game entirely, and it’s almost immersion breaking. up until this point, OMORI was not the same type of “show don’t tell” type of game, so suddenly jumping to attempt to do that can make it lose some of it’s impact)

like I mentioned before, Black Space is designed in a way that’s meant to mimic Yume Nikki. and I think we need to ask ourselves “just because we can do this, does it mean that we should?” again, taking inspiration isn’t a bad thing, but it’s the execution that matters

and here’s where my biggest issue actually lies, I suppose. it’s the fact that OMORI has multiple instances of trying to take inspiration from other things, and failing because it’s trying too hard to copy, not rework. it’s just most obvious because of Black Space, I think. because, like I said before, a good half of Black Space is just trying to be Yume Nikki without giving it any OMORI original flavor, and the fact that it’s trying to be something else is immersive breaking as hell to me

for example, take the red mazes. I don’t think the idea to incorporate it into OMORI was bad, but. you can plainly see when you compare the two maps that nothing was really reworked, made more interesting, or even given a OMORI flavored twist-

(Yume Nikki-1 ; OMORI-2)

another instance is less about the game design itself, but surprising/not-surprisingly, it actually has to do with OST

this is something my friend was telling me, because I myself have not read Umineko, but there are OST in OMORI blatantly trying to mimic songs from that VN, even down to their names

the biggest offender imo is GOLDENVENGEANCE which is a decent song, I won’t say it isn’t, but compare it to it’s Umineko inspiration, Golden Slaughterer 

it’s just another unfortunate instance of “this thing I like is good, so I’ll try to copy it!” with no clear grasp on why it’s successful and it’s disappointing. that’s really the only word I have for it at this point, disappointing

and the reason it’s most disappointing is because of things in OMORI that are obvious inspiration, but were reworked so well

let’s take this other Umineko OST, Worldend Dominator. this is a brilliant song, and it’s really fun to listen to. and, it very clearly inspired beloved World's End Valentine

World’s End Valentine slaps. it’s great. it takes aspects of Worldend Dominator and shifts them around to be a unique and fun piece of music that also fits into OMORI perfectly. 

something important to note about this, is that World’s End Valentine and GOLDENVENGEANCE were written by two different composers. what this makes clear to me is that there were people on the OMORI dev team that were better at reworking ideas than others. because, despite a lot of the criticisms I was talking about, there are things in OMORI that are obvious references that I love and think are great!

like this one, the most pointed out nod to Yume Nikki-

I think it’s great. it’s taking a very memorable bit of imagery from Yume Nikki, and giving it a reference while also giving it it’s own deeper meaning beyond just the aesthetics of it. it’s just good, I love it

and yeah, not all of Black Space feels like one giant copy of Yume Nikki. there are plenty of doors that I think take the same aimless, empty, and unsettling feelings and use them in a new way that feels more grounded in OMORI. my personal favorite door is the “Sunny... I love you.” room. 

actually, funnily enough, the area in OMORI that felt the most like Yume Nikki to me wasn’t in Black Space at all. it was actually the snowy area right before Snowglobe Mountain. something about the vast empty space, simple yet atmospheric OST, and little things to find scattered around just gave me a nice Yume Nikki vibe, but mixed with the OMORI style (hell, the OST there and the one for the snowy area in Yume Nikki even have a pleasantly similar vibe, and not in the “oh this is a copy” way [X] [X])

gosh, I feel like if I keep talking I might end up going in circles more than I already have

hopefully my words made sense!! I’d love if anything I said resonated with anyone aha. I just hope that I’m not coming across as hating on something because I’m biased towards something else or something... almost all of the critiques I have about OMORI come from a place of genuine interest

thank you if you read all of this!

[unholyplumpprincess]

Chomp

For @moonkittenxiii ! It was for the prompt: Vampire!Caustic feeding off reader. Made it vaaaaguely horny so this isn’t super horny but I’ll be putting nsft jic because it’s SUGGESTIVE!

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Caustic/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, It’s suggestive and Implied but nothing explicit, vampire Caustic, biting, blood drinking and blood play obviously, otherwise p tame! Just mildly horny.

Words: 900

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Go figure the scientist with the biggest brain you’d ever seen would have years of recipes memorized because they were from years and years ago.   

It never had clicked for you why Alexander knew such old terminology or why he somehow knew that old flowers did not exist, or how some older recipe to this day could be translated through various other means. You thought it had just been his big brain and his love of books, books that were in bookcases surrounding his little home. Every wall top to bottom of bookshelves filled to the brim and alphabetized.  

Then there was the aversion to sunlight. Something you had, again, assumed was due to some sort of light sensitivity. Not eating in front of you? You assumed he was shy about his dietary habits, not a big deal. All of these things you could come up with a reason for, it never clicked in your mind that maybe, perhaps,  juuuust  maybe that there was something odd about these behaviors.  

~Rest under the cut~

It wasn’t until you’d come knocking on his door earlier than expected that you’d learned. He’d practically yanked you inside, looking out of character with his stressed appearance. Concerned, you’d asked what was wrong, if you could help, resting a hand on his arm gently to stop Alexander’s fussing with his hands.  

It had been...a funny talk, really. When someone tells you that they need life force to eat and that you basically came at about feeding time was something you’d maybe only heard in stories. But when you laughed and he’d given you this desperate look, you’d shut up and let him reason with you and explain properly all the habits you’d made an excuse for in your head.  

Not eating in front of you? He couldn’t, it was raw meat, a blood bag, or some bloodied animal. No sun? Hurt his skin, not quite turning him to ash like legend had it, but more a severe sunburn in a small amount of time. His extensive knowledge? He was a few centuries old and had learned to fake his deaths overtime to not arise suspicion.  

So, when you’d offer to be his dinner that day, at first Alexander had chuckled and said that he didn’t want to impose. That he had what he needed, he just needed you out of the room just in case. You’d rolled your eyes, yanked him down until his nose met your neck and stated again that you were fine with it.  

Now? It was routine. It depended on what method he preferred that day. Life force meant he could, well, have you in a few different ways. Whether he wanted to go down on you that day or merely bite into your flesh was up to if he was up for something more sexual. Something you respected on the days he was repulsed by the idea.  

Now, you are currently pressed against a wall in his bedroom. Alexander wasn’t an impatient man, but sometimes you liked to push at his buttons. Like when you’d ‘accidentally nicked yourself’ moments ago by ‘mishandling’ a pocket knife. It wasn’t your fault it just so happened that you forgot it was in your hand when you went to scratch at your shoulder, totally not.  

His beard scratches at your shoulder as he mouths at the wound. You try and hide your grin as you feel one hand on your waist, the other by your head to kind of trap you. His body is pressed up against yours, allowing you to feel the solid bulk of him with his leg slid between your thighs to stay comfortably close.  

One of your hands is threaded in his hair, stroking through it as his tongue licks up the wound and he growls faintly in his throat, “You are an absolute menace.”  

Your lips split into a grin, a faint laugh leaving you. “And you are playing with your food. Why are you hesitating? Just bite me.” You taunt back to him, shifting against Alexander’s body playfully just to make him grip you a little tighter.  

There’s a grunt back at you, his lips sliding up to the crook of your neck where familiar scars rested. The beard scratches at your soft flesh there, almost tickling, but you hold still with your head tilted for him. A gentle nudge at the back of his head finally makes his mouth slide open. With ultimate precision he bites into the same spot you’re used to. It’s a brief burn before your body is relaxing with both the sensation of the natural almost venom-like saliva and the lack of pain.  

Your body starts to go limp in reaction, but his arms catch you in time, his thigh being able to keep you steady. You can’t help it when you laugh softly, your voice sluggish from your relaxed position, “We shouldn’t have done this against a wall.”  

You hear a hum of agreement before you’re being lifted up, Alexander’s mouth still attached to you as he turns towards the bed to rest you down on top of it comfortably without your legs feeling like they’re going to give up on you.  

It isn’t until a minute later he’s pulling back, licking up your wound and grunting in your ear. “I think I want something sweeter.” Whilst moving towards between your legs.  

Best of both worlds, you suppose.  

[transgaysex]

love looking thru artfight for people to attack. i saw someone begging for gnderbends of their characters and going on abt how much they love those

[re1d]

i know, and i love you | spencer reid

→ summary: nightmares haunt reid late at night. nothing is supposed to be there for him. he is supposed to be alone, but you’d never let that happen. → warnings: mentions of drugs, death, blood, and overall sadness → word count: 3.2k → a/n: i just got to the episodes where reid’s in prison n then i just rly rly wanted to write a post-prison!reid fic :’’)) // ALSO the formatting of this fic is kind of strange, the italics are spencer telling the story jic anyone gets confused !!

Blood. Delgado’s blood. Cat’s cloying smirk. The cut from the knife that killed Nadie Ramos. Everything blurs together. Spencer relives each memory and he is brought back to each cognitive interview he suffered through. He feels his hands squeezing Cat’s neck, JJ’s voice had sounded behind him, but all he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. The sensation of her skin under his fingers, hands digging into her throat floods him with both terror and satisfaction. Pain courses through his thigh as he remembers the shiv that he coerced Shaw to stab him with. 

Agony and fear pull him from his nightmare as he bolts up in bed next to you. The covers fly up, allowing a cool gust of air to wash over your body. His ragged breathing is the first thing your hear when you wake. Beside you, Spencer’s chest heaves as he tries to slow the memories traveling through his mind. He still sees the blood, still feels the pain, still experiences the trauma. His own words ring in the quietude of the early morning; they take over his being to the point where he can just barely feel the pressure of your hand on his shoulder. “Because you and I ... we deserve each other. That is the real secret.” Spencer wants to rip out his vocal chords and scrub them down with lye soap; he said those words, they came from his lips and he couldn’t feel worse about them.

“Her ... It was her again,” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as it rides on the thick atmosphere of your small bedroom. You know he has more to say—you can feel it. “No—it was everything. I saw everything. Mexico, Lindsey, Cat, my ...” he trails off into nothingness, but you can tell what he was about to say. His mom. “[Y/N], I ... I told her that we deserved each other, and—and it’s true. You’re so much better than me in every way; you’re sweet and kind and strong, and I’m just a little kid who still has nightmares.”

The bed shakes as you stand up on top of it, stepping over Spencer’s legs to be able to sit crisscross in front of him. As you plop down, bed springs creak. Darkness envelopes Spencer’s hunched over form, but you can see him as clear as day. Reaching out, you place your hands atop his, encouraging him to meet your gaze. “Spence—look at me,” the command is solid, reassuring, “you need to stop and breathe, okay? Sit up straight and take deep breaths with me. It’ll help, I promise. Then, we can get up and talk about it over coffee, sound good?” His eyes dart around the room once before the tension in his shoulders dissipates little by little.

“[Y/N], I-I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” Sympathy is painted on your features as you give his hands a tight squeeze. Shaking your head, you purse your lips, attempting to hold back tears threatening to fall while you’re in the presence of his pitiful state. His upper body moves with each inhale and exhale cycle. In. Out. In. Out. Routine, structure, necessity.

“I know, Spence, but you know what happens when you hold things in. Eventually, it eats away at you. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna put a pot on, you’re gonna join me in the kitchen, and we’re finally gonna talk through this.” He shivers, letting you stand and lead him out of your shared bedroom. Light switches are passed by as you navigate through the inky corridors—the only illumination being the moon’s tender glow. “I talked to Will a couple weeks after JJ had gotten home from that child abduction case in LA a couple months ago. He told me that he just sat there and let her vent to him, so that’s what we’re gonna do, okay? You are gonna tell me—word for word, memory for memory—what happened. In Mexico, in prison, in your mind. Spence, you’ve been through hell and back—and, yes, I know that you’re taking a mandated break every thirty days and that you’ve been through counselling—but you deserve to be able to talk to someone who doesn’t have a solution, or methods, or anything like that. Just please, let me listen.”

With a sigh and a hesitant nod, Spencer takes a seat across from you at the island in your small kitchen. He presses the heel of his palm into his right eye, trying to push away the warped reality that his vision presents. Even being awake doesn’t keep the nightmares at bay; in his life, he doesn’t think he’ll ever go a day without looking over his shoulder, although the hope is always there, buried deep inside of him. The sound of ceramic sliding against the wood marble counter top breaks the quietude, and he forces himself to meet your hazy stare.

“Well,” he begins, taking a sip of the sugary drink, “I guess I’ll start with getting off of the prison bus ...”

Spencer’s breathing sped up as he stood in line with the other prisoners. Each bellow of another person’s name sent shudders down his spine. He could feel his heart beating in his throat; the harsh thrumming sensation made him think he was going to throw up. A shout of his last name pulled him from his stupor, but when he was thrown back into the line, his heart seemed to stop. There was no longer any noise. He couldn’t hear anything—no names, no yelling, nothing.

He trudged behind the others, the shackles around his wrists and ankles feeling more like weights than intended. The bright orange of their uniforms burned his eyes, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to look at. Cool air sliced through the fabric like a hunting knife gutting a fish. He felt the laser-like stares of guards boring into his back. Every step he took sent a pang of torment through his body, and before he knew it, he had changed, showered, and ended up in the dorm.

The box of his things was gone. Terror coursed through his veins as three inmates surrounded him. “It’s party time,” one of them had said. His voice ached from the muffled screams that begged to be released. And it wasn’t until he was being held with a shiv pointed at his eye that the severity of the situation hit him. Thoughts of you, your smile, the way you would hold him after an awful case—everything came flooding back to him. Although he didn’t clamp his eyes shut, he prayed to anything that would listen to allow him to live to see you again.

“Back off,” a voice sounded from the outskirts of the dark bathroom, “back off, now.” Relief spread through his body, seeping into the deepest parts of him. Looking at the man shrouded in shadow, he does what he’s told and leaves as quickly as he arrived. Gratitude. That was the only emotion evident in Spencer when he finally lets himself fall into the arms of sleep. 

“Okay, okay, whoa,” your voice tugs him from his explanation, “slow down, Spencer.” Reaching up to his face, he feels the wetness drenching his cheeks. Tears, he realizes. He’s crying. “Spence, honey, this can be enough for tonight if you want. We don’t have to keep going.” Grasping his hand from your spot across from him, you attempt to bring him back to reality. With a shake of his head, you’re given an answer and he launches into yet another prison anecdote. You present him with a tissue and he refuses.

“What’s the point if more tears are just around the corner?” A weak laugh escapes his lips as you lift his hand up to cup your cheek and press firm kisses into his palm. “Let’s keep going,” he says with a somewhat forced smile, “I won’t be able to go back to sleep now, anyways.”

Back. Reid was back and working with Delgado in the laundry room. The white sheets and smell of detergent overwhelmed his senses with the feeling of the countless hotels he’d stayed in for work. But, by God, he’d never let that slip in here. If Spencer had, he would’ve been beaten to a pulp before Calvin could tell the prisoners not to. 

His mind wandered as he folded blanket after blanket. It went back to Mexico, going over Nadie Ramos’ death again and again. Spencer was so deep in his daydreaming that he didn’t hear the first call directed at him. And, it wasn’t until a distinct thud pulled him from his thoughts did he realize that Delgado was being gripped in a choke hold, a shiv pointed at the side of his neck. Spencer would never forget the look of panic on his face, in his heart—it vaguely reminded him Ryan Phillips, the first boy he couldn’t save. He tried to shout, to yell, to save his only friend behind bars, but it was to no avail.

Luis coughed, blood dripping steadily from the slit in his throat. Spencer shook off the gang member that held him and rushed towards the man with a towel in hand. He repeated the same words over and over like a mantra.—it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Eventually, he wasn’t able to tell if he was saying it to comfort Delgado or himself. “Help!” He screamed, but no one seemed to hear him. He was alone with a corpse, with Luis’ face having paled to match the cold gray of the laundry room floor.

Days after, he was still waking up in a cold sweat, the image of the viscid, red liquid haunting him more than it had ever done before. Everything was getting worse—his paranoia, his nightmares, his chances of being freed. His thoughts were becoming consumed with murder after murder, but the more his mind raced, the more comfortable the thought of hurting people grew. And so, he poisoned the drugs he was supposed to push—Frazier and his gang deserved a taste of their own medicine. He caused people agony on purpose, and he didn’t feel bad. He liked it.

“I liked it, [Y/N]! I liked it—I liked hurting those people!” His voice is rising, to be honest, it scares you to see him like this, but you’d never let him know that. Spencer stands swiftly, and the sound of the chair scraping against your tile floor makes you jump. He darts to the bathroom with a hand covering his mouth. However, before he can turn completely away from you, you’re able to see the fear in his eyes. It’s obvious to you now that despite being free, he’s never truly left the Milburn Correctional Facility. The darkness that surrounds his past hit you with the force of a thousand elephants as you follow him through the dark corridors of your apartment.

The bathroom door is closed, locked. Pressing your back into the wood, you slide down and hug your legs into your chest. On the other side, Spencer retches into the toilet bowl, his knuckles white from the grip he has on the porcelain. Turning around, you cross your legs and rest your forehead on the board. “Spence,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you, but still soft enough to be tender, “please. What can I do to help? How can I—.” 

The door swings open, but your lover is still hunched over the bowl of the toilet, looking solemnly into the water. He reaches up the press the handle, but his hand slips away, laying limply beside him. The sight of him is pitiful; he looks so weak, so frail. It seems that one touch would break him into a million pieces. Spencer glances at you, but his expression is blank, void, even as tears are welling up in his eyes. “Spence,” you’re still, sitting on the other side of the visible threshold, “I-I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have made you talk about it if you didn’t want to. Oh God, I’m sorry. You obviously weren’t ready to go through it again, and I pushed you anyway.” While you’re rambling, he turns away from the toilet to face you. He’s staring into you, at your heart, your soul, your mind.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, wiping the back of his hand over his lips, “I would’ve woken you up again if we hadn’t talked.” It’s your turn to cry. He watches you carefully, slowly beginning to feel again. A tingling replaces the emptiness that once occupied his body. 

“Spencer, that doesn’t matter, and it’s not okay. I’m supposed to know when enough is enough. I’m supposed to love you and care for you, and now, I’ve dredged up your past. I literally made you throw up, Spencer. I’m sorry.” You move closer to him cautiously, eyeing his movement to see if he wanted you to stop. “I’m so sorry. For everything, love. For Mexico, your mom, Luis.” 

Your words cause him to scramble away from you, his back hitting the wall of the bathtub with a soft thump. Burying his face in his hands, he claws at the crown of his head and he cries. Sobs rack his body as he folds into himself, his arms clutching at his stomach. Your heart aches as you watch him fall apart piece by piece, but you make no effort to stop him, to console him. Spencer’s face grows crimson, the force of his undeniable anguish stealing away his breath. Rocking back and forth, he attempts to calm down. He recalls your instructions from earlier in the morning about breathing, and he follows them. In. Out. In. Out. InOutInOutInOut. As he’s doing the simple exercise, Spencer registers the feeling of your worried gaze resting on him. It doesn’t make him uncomfortable, like it does when other people stare at him—it makes him even more sad.

His body trembles from the physical exertion it was put through, and he lets his head drop between his knees. “[Y/N].”  The broken sound of your name falling from his lips evokes a pang of hurt in your stomach, “I’m so scared.” Your lip quivers at his statement. His voice is so small, yet so sure. Spencer is afraid, terrified even. “I’m scared of using again. I thought about Dilaudid almost every night in prison. But, you know what crushed me? It was the thought of losing you, [Y/N]. I was so afraid of you not being there when I got out that I refused to let you see me at my ... at my worst,” his composure waivers, “But, in reality, I ... have no idea what I would do if I didn’t have you.” He takes a sharp inhale, and it’s clear that the sudden monologue had sucked away any energy that he had left.

“Spencer,” you mumble through tears, “can I—can I touch you? Is that okay?” When your husband nods, you shuffle towards his weak frame slumped against the tub. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you reach to the other side of his face and gently push so that his head rests on your shoulder. Both of you stare not at each other, but into the abyss that is your bedroom. The sun peeks through the blinds, a pale gold replacing the white moonlight that once reigned. “Spence?” You ask, not particularly looking for him to answer, “You know you’ll never lose me, right?”

As his mind ponders the simplicity of your question, he drifts back to one of the best days of his life.

Cold air nipped at his nose, the sight of Garcia and Luke racing towards him from a black van flooded him with relief. But, something was missing. You were missing. Noticing his relentless searching, JJ placed a hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him not to worry. “[Y/N]’s waiting at the office, Spence. Emily is with her, they’re going over the details of the case. She ... she said that when she sees you, she might explode.” Disappointment coursed through Spencer’s veins, as he climbed into the back of one of the SUVs, but he kept it well hidden. 

Soon enough, Spencer realized the way to his old apartment that Cassie and his mother had been staying in. Before everything with Diana had even happened, Spencer was moving into your apartment, closer to Quantico. But, the process had come to a halt because of the personal issues that would only worsen when combined with the stress of moving. He had apologized over and over again, and you had reassured him that none of it was his fault, or his mother’s for that matter. You made sure that he knew that you loved both of them and would do anything you could to help.

“Okay, Spence,” JJ’s voice ripped him from his memory, “you gotta focus now. We’re gonna head into your apartment to get changes of clothes and things like that, but you also need to look for things that could give us new information about where your mom is.” He nods while lifting up the caution tape stretched across his door frame. Truthfully, only half of his mind was focused on finding clues—the other was occupied by thoughts of you. Your face, your smile, the way you used to hug him. He wondered—would you still hug him like that?

He walked alongside JJ, Garcia, and Luke, entering the elevator and riding it up to the BAU’s floor. Spencer’s heart raced; his nerves were obvious because of the way he drummed his fingers on his thigh. Then, time itself stopped. The elevator doors slid open, revealing you, clutching desperately onto Emily and Rossi’s hands. 

“Go get her, Reid,” Luke’s words echoed in the back of his mind as he rushed through the doors to collect you in his arms. His hands were splayed against your back, attempting to hold all of you at once. The slight pressure of your hand on the back of his head, rubbing gently into his scalp sent him to Heaven. Spencer inhales deeply, taking in the comforting scent of old books, laundry detergent, and a hint of vanilla. Separating from him, you cupped his cheeks and pulled your lips down to his. It was a kiss that he would replay well into the future. The supple feeling of your mouth moving against his made his whole body light up. He was on fire, passion and yearning seeping into the deepest parts of his body. 

At this point, the team had returned to the case. However, you two were far too enraptured with immense longing to notice. Finally breaking the kiss, Spencer pressed his forehead to yours, your breath mingling with his in the best way possible. Words were unnecessary because, as a wise woman once said, “love is a world of its own that lives in the heart, not in the head.”

Your question plays on a loop in Spencer’s head. You know you’ll never lose me, right? You know you’ll never lose me, right? You know you’ll never lose me, right? He knows—of course he knows. He’ll never forget it. But, it isn’t until you ask it again that he gives you an answer.

“Spencer? You know that, right?” 

“I know, [Y/N].” The pause he takes is to let the absolute truth of his statement set in. “I know.” He says it like its a mantra, a spell that will keep him safe until the end of time. “I know.” Again and again and again, his words fill the emptiness of that bathroom with warmth, despite the tears drying on his cheeks. 

“I know, and I love you.”

[smolbeandrabbles]

Don’t Call Me Angel - Detective Meares x Reader (Needle)

GIF CREDIT: X 

All responsibility out the window here, I can’t claim any, it’s all Mendo Nation’s fault! No seriously they came up with it, I’m innocent I swear!

Author’s Note: “How did we get here!? Who brought us here!?” 

I stg, @mendelskrull​ and @crawlingmist​ started me on this damn man with digging up (and creating) gifs I didn’t even realise were a thing. And then I was like ‘you know I think I can probably get something out of him!’ and kinda dismissed that 500 words as all we were ever going to get.

Oh no. Then - rightfully so! - I did some campaigning for him on Twitter polls and now I’m here. 

I digress. I wrote more for Meares, and you’re welcome.

Disclaimer: This is not my idea/plot and is a joint effort of the Mendo Nation - who let me go ahead and write it / Needle naught to do with me / gifs & lyrics not mine

Premise: When Meares turns up at a crime scene and finds a second potential victim he’ll do anything to see the killer brought to justice, for her. If he can figure out who the killer is...

Words: 8277

Warnings: TW potential rape discussed / sexual connotations / sexual pre-amble / swearing / kidnap / I really tried to make that last scene as far from non-con as I possibly could but I still want to put a warning for it jic.

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Don't call me angel when I'm a mess Don't call me angel when I get undressed You know I, I don't like that, boy I make my money, and I write the checks So say my name with a little respect All my girls successful, and you're just our guest Do I really need to say it? Do I need to say it again, yeah? You better stop the sweet talk And keep your pretty mouth shut Boy, don't call me angel, You ain't got me right Don't call me angel, You can't pay my price Ain't from no Heaven,Yeah, you heard me right Even though you know we fly, Don't call me angel You sizin' up my body, oh yeah Don't you know that I bite when the sun set?  So don't you try come around me Might work with her, but not me, oh yeah Don't you know that I bite when the sun set? Keep my name out your mouth I know what you about So keep my name out your mouth I appreciate the way you watch me, I can't lie I drop it down, I pick it up, I back it off the county line I fell from Heaven, now I'm living like a devil You can't get me off your mind I appreciate the way you want me, I can't lie I drop it low, I back it up, I know you wanna think you're mine Baby, I totally get it, you can't guess so You can't get me off your mind We in it together, but don't call me angel

---

Abandoned building in the middle of nowhere – that wasn’t so unusual, not for a crime scene anyway. This was the kind of place he half expected to be sent to. Not that he particularly wanted to go – another Detective had been on the case this morning, but apparently something a little more interesting had come up for them and so Meares was thrown the file. ‘So… where’s my crime scene?’ in fact, he wasn’t even sure he was in the right place by the fact there appeared to be no officers guarding the scene. Only the tape strung across the front of the building let him know that’s exactly where he wanted to be. Maybe they’d all just been lazy and decided to clock off for the evening? He ducked under the tape and flicked his torch on, which he still needed because the lights in the warehouse were so goddamn dim. But why had everyone left? The sheet was still over the body and to him that only signalled that the scene had yet to be fully processed. ‘Fucking bastards sending me out here…’  He huffed, ‘If they’ve all miked off drinking I swear to GO---D.’ He noticed how he was also alone out here and his partner, Detective Reddick, didn’t want to bother driving across town for it either. “Aw, nah, it’ll only take one of us. Report back..!” Cursing again, Meares approached the victim, he supposed he might have to start this alone. Bending over he grasped the corner of the white sheet delicately – having learned from previous crime scene interactions that sometimes he could be a little too flamboyant in his actions and there’d been a few ‘incidents’ – and stood to height as he pulled the fabric back from the body. Respect the victim - a little easier when he was alone… Meares guessed that sometimes he just liked being a show off and it was an unfortunate trait he couldn’t help. He jumped as he surveyed the body, just one glance over – his stumbled footsteps echoed around the warehouse, adding to the eerie atmosphere. Meares checked his papers, then the body, then the papers again, then the body… That was not a ‘white male, 20s, average build, deep lacerations, bruising and ligature marks’. This was a very naked (but very beautiful) woman; possibly around the same age bracket - but the body itself looked intact. “Okay. Who is out here pranking me now!?” Had someone switched files? Had someone told him the wrong location? No, no, how often did that happen? Everything else about his file was right, apart from the body. Meares tipped his head, tongue between his lips as he drew his eyes back up her. He rolled it with a small tsk sound, and then knew he was smirking. It was probably very inappropriate to think that a potential victim was hot, even when it was as confusing as to why this was the body in front of him. But her form dipped and curved in just the right places, her skin very nearly perfect… Meares wouldn’t have guessed she’d been dead too long, but also didn’t see any way that she could have died. He stepped carefully around her, her eyes may have been closed but she had an Angel face to match her body, Meares thought hard; ‘more importantly, why is she at my crime scene? And if she is here… where is the real body?’ He let his eyes linger on her for a little too long, and felt that guilty blush build up on his cheeks, travelling fairly swiftly to his neck… but the rush of blood travelled a little further than expected. NO. NO. C’mon, man… He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. But found himself suddenly sad that she was the victim; of course, every victim was difficult but as a detective he had to do his best to separate- “Is it her or her body, though? C’mon. You have nooo idea what she’s-” Meares paused, “Aw, great, I’ve finally cracked I’m talking to myself at a crime scene.” He stopped his walk, palm to his forehead for a minute, “Well, nothing like an expert opinion!” He looked her body over again. No, he was fairly certain there was no obvious sign of trauma. Nor anything to indicate any other type of foul play. And it still bothered him that the body was supposed to be male-! ‘It sure does feel like a set up…’ And of course, forensics had all cleared off. He took one more step towards her; maybe Meares just wasn’t thinking clearly enough. ‘Too distracted, obviously.’ But also maybe he just wasn’t looking closely enough. His eyes lingered on her face ‘Who are you? Why are you here? Who did this to you..? C’mon, darling, I need answers…’ Meares didn’t have a chance to think much more than that; her eyes snapped open. If he thought he’d jumped back before, his string of yelled expletives matched the pounding of his heart in his chest as his adrenaline spiked. Yeah, dead bodies did that, occasionally – but dead bodies did not then take dry choked breaths that then became something close to strangled sobs. That didn’t surprise Meares either; she’d practically been declared dead, she was in a middle-of-nowhere warehouse, naked, and a male detective was now standing over her and – by his own admittance – probably looking a little leery. When her eyes focused on him all he saw on her face was terror, she pulled her knees up, arms around her body to cover herself as she attempted to scramble away. Meares threw his hands up, immediately going for his badge, “Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s okay! My name’s Detective Meares. It’s alright – I’m here to help… I promise… you’re alright now.” He wasn’t sure she trusted him, and her nails dug hard into her skin. Meares shrugged himself out of his jacket, levelling his voice off in hushed tones. “You gave me quite a scare there you know?!” He smiled as he held it out for her, “I’m here to investigate a body, although believe me I’m glad you’re not one… take it. It’s okay… We should probably get you outta here…” He watched her slip it on, buttoning the front up to look as modest as possible, but she still shivered. “You… got a name?” Her eyes raised back to his face, but suddenly she shook her head, “I don’t…” “Remember?” Her nod was certainly sad and he didn’t want her to panic and spiral, but anything he could get now would aid his case greatly, “Do you remember anything? Why you’re here, what happened? Anything about who did this? What about your clothes honey, do you know what you were wearing?” She continued to shake her head, and Meares certainly didn’t want to stress her out any more than he had to. “Okay, it’s okay, this happens. I’m sure it’ll come to you. It’s all going to be fine. But, I should really get you over to a hospital.” “I don’t-” “Honey it’s procedure, I don’t have much of a choice,” he held his hand out for her, “you’re safe with me. No one is going to hurt you.” She placed her hand in his delicately, and Meares felt like he was going on some kind of power trip, but not a bad kind of trip; she trusted him. He was going to protect her now, that was his duty. He pulled her up, trying to keep his eyes on her face. “Thank you.” “Hey, we’re not there yet, you can thank me later. Let’s make sure you’re all okay, right now. Come on, I’ll get you to the car and get you warmed up.” He didn’t touch her as he led her to it, opening the door; Meares would put the heat on for her, he’d pull up to the hospital and they could do tests and maybe he’d get some more evidence from her… And she’d remember too, once she was over the shock, he was sure. He slid his mobile out of his pocket, calling his partner as he jogged around to the driver’s side of the car, indicated that he should meet Meares at the hospital and they could figure it out from there. The detective paused, looking back at the building for just a moment as he opened the door… There was just once problem he couldn’t quite figure out here. “Where the fuck is my actual body, though?!”

** You kept glancing across to the detective as he sped towards the hospital, and you did mean that – Meares was running every light and had his blue lights flashing. He looked on the verge of his 40’s, messy greying black hair and piercing blue eyes – though the true colour seemed fleeting as they changed with his emotions. And those were all over the place right now, that much was obvious. Although he appeared to be being the gentleman, sometimes he couldn’t help but look over at you – and his glances to your body weren’t very fleeting, either. In a normal situation you supposed you would be flattered, but right now you were having doubts you could trust him to be taking you where he said he was. ‘No… He’s a detective. He surely wouldn’t take advantage of that?’ or, maybe he would; how much did you know about Meares anyway? Maybe not a lot; but he was very easy to read on the surface so you didn’t think that figuring him out was going to be much of a challenge. Eventually you started seeing the Hospital signs and could breathe a real sigh of relief; okay… you could trust him. Upon pulling up you noticed several other police vehicles waiting around outside – all with their lights also flashing. You gasped and visibly shrank back in your seat; Meares turned to you. “Don’t worry, I called for backup, they’re good guys. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He opened his car door. “I’ll be very quick, okay, just wait here. We’ll get you checked up.” You reached for his hand before he had a chance to leave and held him there for a minute, Meares thought that you might be about to thank him, but that wasn’t what came out of your mouth: “Y/N.” “…What?” “…My name. You asked my name.” You found yourself taken aback by how gentle and sweet his smile was, “Y/N, you remembered… That’s good progress. Real good progress.” His large hand enveloped yours for a second, “Excellent! Now just, wait here, the hospital will help you out!” By the time Detective Meares exited the car and found his partner he was panicking again, “God damn, Meares-! What the hell is going on!” “You tell me! They send me to a crime scene where somebody is supposed to have been cut through, and I find a live woman there? What happened to all the investigators!? Anyway, that isn’t the point, she’s sitting in my car, I don’t know who she is – she’s barely remembered her first name – she doesn’t know how she got there and she’s half naked! And that’s only cuz she has my jacket! Who does that to a girl and leaves her in the middle of a crime scene!?” Reddick wiggled his eyebrows, “Naked ehhhhhh?!” Meares immediately hit him, “No! She’s a victim, quite possibly a witness once we get through to her!” Although his face burned, it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought the same thing. “…Well they knew someone would find her in a crime scene?” “Logical if it was accidental but then evidence has been moved, where’s the logic there, huh?” “Maybe forensics has the body.” “…Then why send me with the damn report like a body is there?” “Because they don’t like you, Meares?” “Fuck that. No wonder this department is a laughing stock…” He sighed angrily, “Look, if we have the body, great, but someone has tampered with that scene, and there’s either a secondary scene for her, or new forensic evidence at this one. Get down there with some people and figure it out.” His partner groaned, “Why me!?” “Because I’M staying with the victim for questioning, and hospital test results. I found her, her mind is clearly fragile, right now I am the familiar face-!” “Shouldn’t you be telling the department all this?” Meares glared at him, “Quit whining! Sure, I’ll do it. Can you please get down there – I really don’t want to leave her alone too long!” “Fine… fine, I’m going, but then get them to come straight out to me.” Reddick peered around his friend, “She’s a good-looking girl.” “Y-Yeah.” Meares also turned on the spot, you were looking at the hospital nervously, chewing your lip, “She is.” “And you’ve seen her naked.” There was a waiver of amusement in the other Detective’s voice, Meares turned back to him, snapping: “Will you get out of here!” ** Meares hung around in the hospital as long as he could before they forced him to leave to conduct their tests. Not before he took your hands and promised you he’d be back as soon as they let him. You did trust him, you knew that already – right now he seemed like the only person you could trust; and he’d brought you to a hospital and he trusted them to take care of you. You took a deep shaky breath as he let you go, but you knew everything was going to be okay. Once outside he called his superiors to tell them the news. That he’d found a secondary victim and that Reddick was back at the scene to retrieve any other evidence – luckily that was met positively and a forensics team was dispatched. Although Meares did mutter something about lack of communication under his breath. He had to voice his concern now: “There were no police or detectives on the scene – things have been moved, or must be missing. Someone got a second body in there between them packing up and me arriving. And conveniently no one was around to see anything!? And if I just missed them, then I’d say the killer was watching us, or the building. You have the body right-!?” “Yes. Meares, don’t you worry about that.” “Why send me with paper work?! This all seems fairly suspicious to me!” He was rambling and he knew that he probably shouldn’t have let that become more than just a thought, but Meares couldn’t help it. “You’re not shouting conspiracy, Meares?” “Are you giving me reason to?” There was silence for a moment, before a heavy sigh, “We’ll put you on the case team, see what you can get from our live victim.” “Thank you, Sir. They’re going to call me when the tests are finished.” With that they both hung up, but Meares couldn’t help but think that something was going on: after all, he wouldn’t exactly have called that answer straight. Much more like a bribe not to mention it. Someone isn’t saying something Meares… Watch your back… Was the only conclusion he could draw, dropping his mobile into his pocket he leant his head back against the waiting room wall and closed his eyes. He’d figure it out; that was his job. *** He was woken by a nurse, who led him into a back room. “Well, it’s all fairly conclusive Detective.” “I do like easy.” Meares grinned, but she didn’t find his joke attempt amusing, so he cleared his throat, “What happened to her?” “A fairly heavy dosage of sedative. Ketamine.” “She was drugged? That makes sense… isn’t that like a date rape drug?” “Correct. Although the rape kit has come back negative. And she didn’t ingest it, it was injected into her.” “Someone really knew what they were doing.” She nodded, “She’s not a regular user?” “No. No recent tracks or scars in her skin, she’s clean apart from this.” Meares nodded, mulling the information over, “You say fairly heavy… enough for the memory loss she’s experiencing? There’s also gotta be a reason why I didn’t realise she was alive, right? But Ketamine elevates heart rate?” “In small doses – but this wasn’t a small does, Detective. As for her memory, I wouldn’t say so but it could be a stress reaction, we don’t know what else happened to her tonight, or at any other point. It doesn’t have to be related to the drug.” “I guess I’ll only find out when her memory returns.” “Yes, but she’s doing very well, she’s certainly open to talking to you – in fact she asked for you.” “No doubt, do you think she’s ready for questions?” “Go easy on her, Detective.” “Oh, I promise.” Meares nodded, and he meant it, “Just one last thing. I found her at a crime scene, we had a body that had been almost completely lacerated. When I turn up on the scene her body is in the same place. Could… could it have killed her?” “Any sedative in a high amount could yes, but not the amount in her. Perhaps it is only to sedate the victims until the killer is ready to…” the nurse paused, not willing to spout conjecture, “I will say this, at least, she’s very, very lucky you found her Detective. Less she become just like your body.” “On that, I’m sure we can all agree.” When Meares reappeared in the room that you’d been set up in, your heart couldn’t help but give a flutter of excitement – he surely was a very attractive man, and kind too, although you weren’t sure if you could call him your knight in shining armour. A knight in one-hell-of-a-suit, maybe. Though you noticed his shirt was untucked and his tie a little more slacked than it had been previously. You were dressed in a hospital gown now, but you were still clutching his jacket. His scent was unfamiliar to you, but it was one you liked. Meares sat next to you, once again taking your hand in his; you thought your pulse might run wild and suddenly felt light headed – but you controlled it. “How are you feeling?” “Alright, considering what happened… And thanks to you, god knows what would have happened if-” He stilled you, “Hey, you don’t need to think about that. Sounds like you were on one hell of a trip!” the grin indicated he had just cracked a joke, although your laugh was more embarrassed than anything else, “I… suppose.” “I’m sorry-” His eyes left yours, “I have… never been too good with my comedic timing. I wanted to ask though, Y/N, if you’d be up for answering some questions of mine?” You weren’t sure how much help you’d be, but you certainly wanted to help him. “Of course, Meares, anything.” Anything. His heart almost skipped at that, heat rushing back to places it had no business being. Anything was a big word, and he could think of plenty of things he wanted that were certainly not appropriate to bring up right now! He took a slow breath, c’mon. Be professional! For once! “Well, hey, we have your name now at least. And I have a little data on you from the hospital – with your consent to use it, of course. So, I know your address, we can get you back home, maybe that’ll help too.” Yes, he had your name, and you certainly liked the way he said it. “Oh, of course, use whatever will help your case.” Meares nodded gently, “Well, let’s start simple, do you remember what you were wearing?” “Uhm. Yes.” Although you chewed your lip, blushing – and he caught the red. “It’s okay, it stays in this room.” “Just a short black dress, off shoulder, low cut. Maybe even very low cut. Small split up the side… I remember… I remember thinking that I had to wear my sexiest dress. That was very important.” He raised an eyebrow, “Hot date?” “I-I don’t think so.” Although maybe you’d count this… interview… “Shoes?” “Good heels, yes. But also black, nothing fancy. Uhm, some… obscure brand that you only find in stores like T.K.Maxx…” “So we’re looking for a dress and heels. That’s good, you’re doing great.” He squeezed your hand, “Anything else?” You shook your head, “No, I… I wasn’t wearing-” “Oh. Oh, no, that’s- That’s okay… Dress, heels. We’re hoping your items are at a secondary crime scene. So, any detail is good. Do you remember anything, about where you were?” “…Some crowded part of town. I know, that doesn’t help any but…” “Well, do you have any idea what time? We have plenty of ways of figuring out where – sounds like you’re heading for a night out.” “Yeah, uh, 9:30, maybe closer to 10?” You scrunched your face, “That’s habitual. I don’t think I was meeting someone…” “Well, there’s security footage in the busy parts of town as you can imagine, so, I’ll get a team working on that.” “Thank you.” You took his other hand, and instinct laced your fingers with his, “Meares, I… I don’t know what I would have done if-” “I said don’t think on it. You’re safe. Keep moving forward, okay? Well, okay, maybe any information you do remember would still be good!” You giggled, then gathered his jacket and held it out for him, “And for this, especially.” “Oh!” He looked a little bashful for a second, “It’s not anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.” “But it was you.” There was another silence of understanding as you looked into each other’s eyes; his really did change just like weather. “No…” His tone was quiet, and he pushed it back at you, “Keep it. It looks good on ya.” “Y-You think?” “Mhm.” That small smirk was playful, and made more than just your stomach flutter. Oh… “Well, I guess I should thank you once more, detective.” “Don’t mention it… Just keep talking, maybe that’ll trigger something.” He had the right idea, but for the investigation it proved rather fruitless. Eventually he stopped you, just because you were getting so worked up about it not being useful. But he did learn a little bit about your life, even the most random of details helped Meares build up a picture of you, and that could really help him figure out the ‘why you’. It wasn’t necessarily the same person that had done this to you as had killed the first victim, but if it was there could be a connection somewhere. Perhaps a crime of opportunity, but that was down to Meares and his detective skills to figure out. Some details that you could remember were patchier than others, and as you struggled with the want to give him more information you became less forthcoming with anything you thought was unusable. Meares had taken notes and finally pocketed his notebook. “Y/N, I promise you, everything you’ve told me is important. It helps us build a profile of the person we need to catch too. Maybe there’ll be similarities between you and our victim. Trust me, in an investigation like this no detail is useless or too insignificant. Everything counts. And you’re brave for going through this with me.” He stood, leaning forward he kissed your forehead and you gasped, making him think that once again he’d screwed up professionally. Though Meares was hardly sure he was thinking professionally at the moment; you were a nice girl. Someone he’d actually want to hang out with… that wasn’t just your body talking to him, although that was a somewhat delightful image still burned into his head. He would do anything to bring the person who had done this to justice, he vowed that to himself. “Stay in the hospital tonight, just make sure you’re okay and I’ll come back in the morning, alright?” You nodded, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Meares.” Today, by the looks of his watch, but it was still dark. Not tomorrow until you’ve been to bed-! was a rule he liked living by. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try to get some rest.” You smiled, watching him leave, and wishing he didn’t have to go: “Goodnight Detective, you too.” *** Meares did turn up at the hospital the next day for you, and seen as they were good with discharging you, he offered to drive you home. At first you thought that would be fine but, under Meares’ gaze in his car, this time your heart kept running away with your thoughts. He really was gorgeous, and now you were seeing him in natural lighting those blue eyes were even more stunning. Even when you stole glances at him and traced that side profile… Should you be thinking this way about him? Meares was supposed to be investigating what had happened to you, after all. You doubted he’d be able to have a relationship with you; not when the investigation was open. He’d noticed these shy little glances of yours and could barely hold that smirk back, you must have been checking him out. Meares was fine with that of course – and this morning you’d walked out of hospital with his jacket on, and he wasn’t reserved about admiring you in it, especially now sitting in his car again. He knew your address but he was certainly taking the scenic route, Meares’ drive was leisurely at most. Once he did pull up at your home, you were both clearly disappointed. You hesitated, staring up at your front door. Thinking he should probably be being the gentleman right now, Meares rounded the vehicle to open the car door for you – but you just kept staring forward. “I don’t want to go.” Your voice was timid, but he still caught it. “What? Why? You’re home.” “I don’t feel safe here. Not alone.” You shook your head, seemingly shrinking back into your seat, “I can get people posted, or watching the house, if you’re not comfortable.” You shook your head again, “What if whoever did this is watching the house-!? What if they’re waiting for me to be alone, Detective?!” Meares opened his mouth to try to calm you down, but this time his joke faltered. He couldn’t forgive himself if something happened before he arranged for someone to watch out for you. “Y/N… I don’t know what else I can really do with you.” Your big eyes looked up to his, pleading, “Can’t I stay with you? For a little? Until I feel safe again.” He almost did a double take, and hoped he looked level and not like he was about to punch the air – a little like what was happening in his head – “…I don’t know if my supe’s are gonna like that. But I can sure ask. They might pull me off the case to do it. But your safety should be paramount, and you’re a key witness. It’s just-” You knew exactly what he was getting at but tilted your head, “Just what, detective?” Meares for once opted not to run his mouth, and swallowed thickly eyes flicking down your body again – he hoped inconspicuously – “…It’s nothing. Don’t worry. I’ll call them. I have a spare room, don’t you want to collect some things first… though?” So, Meares found himself dropping you at his house. Although he didn’t see how this was helpful for you, considering he still had to leave you alone and work on the case at the precinct. He guessed no one was going to think of finding you here. And, obviously, he was secretly elated… Even though Meares guessed he was about to get heavily reprimanded for this. And he was laid into quite hard, despite his – fairly calm – explanation as to why. Oh yes, of course he wanted to raise his voice, yell about it to be heard – but he didn’t think that would help him in keeping you at his. Upon offering to hand the case to someone else in exchange for making sure you were truly safe, his superior immediately scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve done the hard work.” “I don’t want to compromise anything!” “You should have thought about that before you agreed to let her stay.” “So pull me off, like I said. You have my write up… She’s scared, she doesn’t remember things, I found her… I just think giving her some familiarity and comfort right now is a good idea.” “Familiarity? In a house she’s never seen before?” “You… know what I mean.” “Just, be sensible, Meares.” “Yes Sir.” “You do know how to do that, don’t you?” Meares made the mistake of laughing, and it wasn’t met well, before he turned serious: “Y-Yes. Of course.” The case itself brought about good progress very quickly, with all your files back from the hospital and his own notes – coupled with what they knew about the victim, and witness interviews begun, the team were beginning to shape a picture of events. Fingerprints and DNA helped narrow the list of people who would have been around the warehouse recently, and soon interviewing witnesses became interviewing suspects. Your dress and shoes had been found well within a mile radius from the warehouse, and whilst sweeping the areas around, needles – one containing Ketamine – were also recovered with the DNA of both you and the victim. General consensus was the killer had tampered with the crime scene. That raised questions of its own; why, and how had they been able to? Meares believed that’d lead to some internal investigation – and he was still mindful to be cautious around others in the department - but right now catching this person was paramount. *** Your relationship continued to grow. Although Meares was very careful with what he told you. You understood why, this was his job on the line after all. But of course he kept you updated on your own case; he was determined to catch the person who did this. It was good to see how joyous he became the more information he gathered, and how Meares would always announce ‘we’re close!’ if you asked for an update. You weren’t sure exactly how true that was, considering he’d been saying that for weeks, but you couldn’t help but be happy that he was happy. Detective Meares made you feel safe, safer than you had been for a long time. And as you started to remember little pieces that would help him, Meares got excited to grab his little recorder to make sure he had everything right. You continued to get closer, and you were sure by now you’d outstayed your welcome at his place and you should be heading back home – but neither of you raised the subject of you leaving, and he never asked if you were safe enough to go home, even though it was obvious by your attitude and body language that you were. It started slow – to build to something more than the victim and the detective who had saved your life (probably), you were sitting on the couch together watching TV. Not even a movie, just news reports, but you leaned into him, head on his shoulder. For a moment Meares tensed – not in an uncomfortable, ‘I don’t want this’ way, but in a ‘is this really happening?!’ way. Meares didn’t dare breathe for a minute, and yet as if to prove how much you meant it, you cuddled into him a little more, soaking up his bodily warmth. Meares’ smirk was a little too smug, but you were smiling too, and your cheeks began to hurt as his arm snaked around your shoulders and he pulled you a little closer. Meares knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this. But, fuck it, when had he ever really listened to rules and procedure? You were beautiful, no, you were gorgeous. Wasn’t it the first thing he’d noticed about you anyway? He pulled your body into his, hand settling on your waist; and you didn’t complain. Maybe Meares was right, maybe you wanted him as bad too. Was that a good thing? Well, he knew he would certainly choose to believe it was.

 Pretty soon that dynamic changed, and cuddling on the couch turned into making out on the couch. It didn’t take much persuasion; he’d been staring at you like that ever since he’d first met you and you were certainly hot on him too. As you both leaned closer Meares tilted his head, smirking “Whatcha thinking about Angel Face?” And how you almost returned his smirk as you looked deep into those ever-changing blue eyes, “Kissing you.” Angel Face - That was his nick-name for you, even if he wouldn’t admit how he came to that conclusion, and it just stuck. You soon found out that if you ran your fingers through his hair Meares would groan into the kiss - and it was no wonder that he always liked his hair being messed up. Clearly it was even better for him when you did it. Professionalism be damned, the detective was not about to resist you. And he’d offered to be off the case, fair and square, he didn’t see how they could blame him now. Especially when you looked like that.

Being with him was just so easy; old enough to know better, young enough to still be playful - but he could bounce back from any fuck ups, a little headstrong and rough around the edges… No one was ever perfect though. A good man, even if he spent his time making inappropriate comments or jokes - just as often in content as in his timing. But all of that just made you love him more, that attractive face of his (not to mention his voice) was the best bonus. It only made you wonder what was under his clothes… after all, he already knew what was under yours. And you were fairly certain that was an image burned into his head.

This meant Meares had a particular way of staring at you; you wouldn’t call it predatory, but it had that kind of effect on you. Your pulse ran and your eyes widened and sometimes you struggled to breathe against the weight of his stare; drawing his eyes slowly up and down your body, tilting himself to get better views of you. The way his lips parted and he ran his fingertips over them, or sometimes his tongue before he smirked. Of course he wondered when he’d get to see you naked again. You weren’t sure if that made you more or less scared of it being an eventuality. Sometimes you shied away from him completely. Sometimes you had the confidence but found yourself unable to speak it.

Today was not either of those. Today the stars aligned all from a seemingly innocent sentence. If Meares hadn’t wondered aloud if you were ready to return back to your own house then you probably wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take his hand and turn him back to you. You found the words to be honest: “I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone. Or without you. Again.” For the first time Meares saw something in you that he hadn’t before. Whilst the sentence had been said in all innocence there was a wildness in your eyes. An untameable force that somehow you were holding back. You very nearly stole his breath with that look alone. He kissed you hard and fast; slipping out of his own jacket before reaching out to pull your hips to his.

When he broke away from you, the look on your face was of slight wonder. Yet that wildness was still there - and the trembling he felt under his fingertips was not because you were nervous and scared. It was because of what you were holding back: this didn’t match the personality that you’d been showing off to him; shy and sweet and delicate. Meares wondered which was real, this or the girl he thought you were just pretending to be. Cupping your face in his large hands his next kiss was delicate, lips barely touching yours. “Don’t hold back now Angel Face.”

He found himself yanked back to you almost angrily by his tie, the look in your eyes not hiding now. Oh, you didn’t intend to.

 ***

 He was falling for you. And hard. Meares didn’t want to call it love yet, but he thought it could be. He wasn’t sure he was simply in lust with you - but he’d keep that option on the table. You were always lingering in the back of his mind, and now he knew what your sex was like you weren’t just an image of a naked body, but a whole experience. And every so often you’d use this to your advantage, and send him pictures that made him smirk and text eagerly back: ‘Bad girls get put in handcuffs, you know?’

 Of course, all this had to happen right around the time of the major case break through. And not a breakthrough Meares particularly wanted. One day he was called down to the forensics room, and was faced with a mix of items of both yours and the first victims. They had been through everything again, and again, and again and nothing. Meares hoped that today was the day they’d finally find something that would help. “Detective, we will have to simply call it.” “We can’t give up on them! The killer is still out there!” “There’s nothing more we can do. Nothing - if we go on evidence alone now, logically there’s conclusions that must be drawn.” Meares sighed and placed his hands flat on the table, stretching his body back behind him; “Give it to me again.” “There’s NO other DNA in that warehouse, on her clothes, nothing.” “No other person?” “None.” “No evidence that anyone else was involved?” Meares wanted there to be another angle, something beyond what he felt – with dread – that this was all building to. “No. And we have tested and retested everything.” As you well know, this seemed to say. “…What about our first body?” “Well, here’s the interesting thing.” “What?” And why hadn’t this ‘interesting thing’ been raised!? Meares knew he sounded more annoyed than he did elated at this potential breakthrough. “Same sedative.” “So what, they were coming back for her?” That didn’t make things any better. He certainly was glad he’d found you if that was the conclusion. There was awkward hesitation, before the technician cleared his throat: “…Prints on the syringe are hers.” Meares raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding: “They… forced her to do it to… herself?” “Meares…” The look was pointed, “You know what the evidence is saying.”

Meares set his tablet up on the kitchen side, staring at it hard, before taking a stylus and trying to connect all the dots virtually. He’d been trying to do this in the office all day - and he almost had it but there were blanks that he was drawing that he still didn’t understand. They could easily have forced you into it, he doubted they’d forced you to inject someone else. But he suspected they could have had you self-inject. That’s what Meares wanted, but that wasn’t what the evidence was saying. That was never what the evidence was saying.

He had to be sure, and he’d found the security tapes of the warehouse opposite: terrible quality of course, and grainy. They’d already been dismissed by the team as being insufficient to gather anything from. But if you looked hard enough, if you knew what you were looking for, you’d find it. And he unfortunately did. This figure that he was seeing was you. It had to be you - it wasn’t like he could see your face, but he was living with you. He knew your body, he knew the way walked, the attitude you put into steps. This wasn’t that shy act either, this was careful and calculating. The person he knew, sure, but there was a horrendous chill that ran up his spine. Like he was watching some kind of horror movie. No one else went in or out of the warehouse after you. Then you came back out - he fast forwarded all the police investigators turning up - but you returned later… then nothing, until he showed up. And Meares knew the rest.

 “Oh. SHIT.” His head bent forward and he rested it on the cold side. It’s you. It had to be you. Meares couldn’t help but admit his heart was a little broken, that he felt a little nervous and sick. Where were you? Were you here? A killer in his house; someone he trusted, he had feelings for, that he’d told about his life. Was everything you’d told him about yourself a lie? You didn’t remember anything, because there was nothing to remember. You’d killed someone, drugged yourself to make yourself look like a victim… watched the warehouse while the police did their work… but why? The why had him so confused. And it was a question he couldn’t answer. Meares wouldn’t put you in handcuffs until he had the whole story.

 But he heard the sound behind him all too late, and as he straightened to react you grabbed him. Meares didn’t really have time to struggle, you’d been watching him - and bless his heart he was struggling. With the truth - but he didn’t know the whole truth just yet. You placed your hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out and sunk that needle in; no hesitation in injecting the heavy sedative into his veins. “Figured it out yet… Detective?”

 ***

 Meares took a little longer to come around from the sedative than you’d have liked. No doubt it was the same one that you had used on yourself and your victim. Damn did he feel like an idiot. And drowsy. And have one hell of a pounding headache.

Didn’t take very many of his detective skills to figure out he was tied to a chair, hands bound too. He thought back to that first description; bruising and ligature marks. Looking around it seemed a little like he’d been put back in another warehouse. Though this one looked a little cleaner than the one he’d been investigating. Eventually his eyes fell on the figure approaching him; and Meares glared.

“You?!? It was you all along?!?” He sounded much more hurt than he wanted to, “Why would you do that?!?” You stopped a few feet from him, hands in your pockets, head tipped as you surveyed his body. It was slightly gratuitous, but he could hardly complain about it after what he’d been doing to yours. Meares supposed that he should be thankful he wasn’t naked. Then again...

You took a breath, and once again answered too honestly. “For you.” Meares squinted, disbelieving: “What the fuck!?” That made no sense. “Are you kidding!?” You shook your head, “Detective Meares I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time. And is it any wonder, just look at you.” You paused, biting your lip seductively. He hated to admit it was almost working, “...What better way to finally meet you? And the fact that you were the first man on the scene for me. Couldn’t have worked out better.” He swallowed, backing up as far as the chair and restraints would allow: “There’s better ways to get my attention.” “Oh, but it did... didn’t it. Get your attention.” You took a step back, but your eyes didn’t leave his, “Or I did.”

Meares face was illuminated fairly well by the dim lighting, and his cheeks flushed. Yes - but he’d only admit that in his head right now. Of course you’d caught his attention. Look at you. You were gorgeous.  ‘She’s a fucking killer though, Meares, c’mon!’ Although he wasn’t really listening to that reasoning anymore as his eyes flicked up and down your body once more. He found himself struggling against the restraints. You smirked, “I wouldn’t do that, they’re your handcuffs.” Meares did the unexpected and smirked back, with a raised eyebrow, “Little kinky?” You gave him a look of amusement, but disappeared for a moment into the gloom. That made him panic a little and strain against the cuffs and binds again. No luck.

When you returned you placed a stool in front of his chair and sat opposite him, twisting the keys to his cuffs around your finger. “You want out?” Meares stared at the keys for a long while, before looking back to your face, then the keys, and then your face once more. When that gorgeous blue returned to the keys, Meares took a deep breath; he wouldn’t lie, he was in two minds here. ‘What’s she gonna do if I say yes, actually this is weirdly turning me on. If it weren’t for the context I’d actually quite like her to be in charge if we’re gonna fuck?...’ His eyes returned slowly to your face but you recognised that swallow; you knew exactly where Meares’ mind was at and what you were doing to him. That man was craving you, even now. “What are you gonna do to me? You gonna kill me now?” “Nothing you won’t like.”

A shiver of excitement ran his spine and he cursed himself, the widening of your smirk meant you’d seen it, and the way his pupils dilated. “I want answers.” “I don’t think you do. You want means and motive. I saw opportunity and your jurisdiction.” “You drugged yourself, stripped naked and… no maybe that was for me.” You enjoyed the way that blush rose on his face again. “Yes, Although I wasn’t really meant to inject quite so much sedative. I’m sure your labs will figure I have enough immunity to have got back to the crime scene after stripping off before it kicked in. And yes, of course for you.” You tilted your head, arms folded for a second, “I didn’t meant to go that hard; and it did affect my memory momentarily.” “You’ve… also obstructed the course of justice.” “There was no attack for me to remember.” “And the guy you… lacerated?” You shrugged, “Just some guy.” “...You- he was a random vic?” “Not entirely, but I’m sure you know by now he won’t be missed.” “You can’t just… do things like that.” Meares’ look was hard, his tone disgusted. “No, but I did.” “You’re psycho-!” “Little emotional there, detective.” He scoffed, “You expect me not to be?!” His eyes narrowed and for a moment hurt genuinely flickered across his face: “I can’t believe I fell for you, can’t believe I slept with you. Holy shit what have I got myself into-!?” “I just told you…” Your voice softened, and you leant forward, hands on his knees you pushed his legs apart. That shade of red on his face got deeper as his eyes widened: “So what, we’re gonna hate fuck now?” Your head tipped and you said it almost sweetly, “Not exactly.”

For a moment you left your stool and sat between his feet, arms up over his left thigh you leant against leg, eyes almost pure and innocent. “Oh. FUCK!” He had to voice something in realisation, after all. “Baby…” You ran your fingers up his inner thigh and loved the way he tensed under you, “Just let me take care of you.” “Y-Y/N…” His breathing hitched, should he want this? Shouldn’t he watch this? This was certainly going to fuck up his case. If it wasn’t already fucked. “You’re so god damn sexy when you’re frustrated…” Your voice purred and his body threatened to shudder once more. Meares felt himself getting hot, and that feeling was very quickly travelling down his body. “Geez, will ya just do it?!” His voice a mixture of anguish and yearning. There was underlying lust there too you were certain to capitalise on. You were certain you’d probably let him go; you didn’t want to have to kill him… What he would do to you, you weren’t sure. But you knew the implications of his relationship with you to the case. Well, he had warned them.

 You smiled gently, eager to please, pulling the stool forward with your foot you sat back on it, leaning up to kiss him. “Do you want out of the cuffs?” He thought about his hands in your hair, about the control that would give him. “Mhm…” His voice wavered with what he was trying to hold back, you reached behind him and unlatched them, “Don’t worry, Detective, I trust you…” “I don’t know if I trust you,” then he smirked, “Angel Face.” You tsked him, giving him one last slow kiss, before your hands travelled to his belt, “I probably should have told you not to call me Angel… but that might have given it all away…” “Oh yeah…” Meares groaned at the sound of his zip coming undone and you sank back onto the stool properly. “That woulda done it…” You leant back on his knees, smile playful, “Just relax, Meares. Enjoy yourself.” “I’m not sure I’m gonna call it that right now.” You ran your tongue across your lips to wet them, “We’ll see, Detective… I’m sure you’ll find a way to appreciate this.” “Well…” He breathed deep again as you forced his legs a little wider, bringing his hands around, just itching to tangle in your hair, “Won’t say I won’t love the view…”

---

Cheers guys, I owe ya!  🤣

[villlainarc]

Black Hole Sun

Won’t You Come

(this is So Long and ik read mores don’t always work for asks sO jic i’m using a screenshot of the ask for this one)

Summary: Deceit is a villain. Deceit is a villain, so her taking Virgil hostage shouldn’t be shocking. Deceit is a villain, so it should come as no surprise when she asks Roman for their heart in exchange for their friend. Deceit is a villain, and this is what she does.

Pairings: Prinxiety of Some Kind (even the author doesn’t know what to call it at this point), eventual Roceit and/or Anaroceit (the author has not yet decided which)

Warnings: mind control (it’s technically consensual but not. Super Consensual), threats of violence and murder, swearing, alcohol drinking

Word Count: 6568

Taglist (ask to be added!): @max-is-tired @raaindropps @sssounds-gay-im-in​ @main-chive @emo-disaster @heavenly-roman

Notes: fun fact this my second try at writing this prompt because the first attempt simply had The Wrong Vibes also i really didn’t like it fhdjdksk

also i split this into two parts for my own sanity so you can expect the second half at Some Point In The Future (hopefully soon but i’ve said that Several Times about things i haven’t touched since november)

also also if you’re curious about What The Hell is going on with the prinxiety here,,, uh send me an ask or something because a) it’s Complicated, b) it’ll take me a while to explain, and c) that gives me time to think up a Proper Explanation that amounts to more than a Vague Idea (or send me an ask about Anything going on in this au that you may be curious about i have Many Thoughts to share for this)

also also also this is my offering for roman’s birthday. it was written in june and involves roman. This Is All That Matters. no i will not be acknowledging that this is over a week late thanks for asking ✌️

100 stars in the sky prompts

ao3

_________________________

“Deceit!”

“Phoenix,” Deceit replied calmly, offering them a flourishing bow as they dropped from the roof and landed in front of her.

“Let’s get right down to business.”

“Do, let’s.”

“Give me my friend back.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific. You have so very many friends, and I’ve captured more of them than you could possibly imagine—”

“Alright then, give me my girlfriend back.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll find him myself.”

“No you won’t,” Deceit said, a confident smirk spreading across her face. “I can assure you that you won’t.”

“Deceit, where is he?”

“As if I’d tell you,” she laughed.

“Please,” Phoenix said, their bluster and heroic persona slowly falling away. “I’d do anything to keep them safe, to get them back.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”

“Anything,” they confirmed.

“As sickeningly sweet as that is, all I want is your heart.”

“My heart?”

“It’s symbolic. By taking your heart, I take the heart of this city and hold it in my very hands.”

“Oh. I just— isn’t there another choice?”

“Not if you want to save your precious Virgil.”

Phoenix narrowed their eyes, fixing Deceit with a contemplative look. “You want my heart?”

“That is what I said, yes.”

“Well… then what if I fell in love with you instead?”

Deceit blinked. “Sorry?”

“That’s another way to give someone your heart, right?”

“I suppose so,” Deceit replied, frowning. “What is it that you want me to do, then? Force you to fall in love with me?”

“You can do that, can’t you?”

Deceit blinked again, startled by the bluntness of their words. “Not exactly. My powers have similar restrictions to those of the genie from Aladdin—I can’t make people fall in love, and I can’t bring people back from the dead. The wishing for more wishes thing isn’t really relevant here, but I probably wouldn’t be able to do that either.”

“Can you do something similar then?”

“I suppose if you were to… figuratively give me your heart, I would have control over everything you said or did that’s even remotely emotionally charged. A similar result would be achieved, yes, but I feel that option is a bit more iffy, ethically speaking. So while I could do that, are you sure you’d want it? I don’t— I don’t want you to regret this.”

“Oh, so murder is alright with you—ethically speaking, of course—but that isn’t?”  Phoenix scoffed. “Yes, I’m sure I want this. I’d say sacrificing my emotions in order to save Virgil is far preferable to dying.”

“I don’t think you realize the fact that functionally, you will be dead. Since you in particular think with your heart first and foremost, my dear Phoenix, me taking that away from you would be taking away who you are. I may be cruel, but I don’t want to do that.”

“Deceit, I think you’re overlooking the fact that most importantly right now, I don’t want to die. There’s always a chance I can break your control, but there will never be a chance for me to come back from the dead.”

“Your conviction is amusing, but it’s also incredibly misguided. Unless something drastic happens, there will be no getting out of this for you.”

“We’ll just have to see then, won’t we?” Phoenix said, a bitter smile on their face. “Do it.”

Deceit took a calming breath before asking one final time, “You’re absolutely certain?”

“There’s no other way for me to save Virgil, is there?”

Deceit found herself hesitating. Technically, she could easily just lead Phoenix to the place where—

She cut off that train of thought sharply. She was so close to having everything she’d ever wanted; there was no way she was going to let Phoenix slip out of her grasp now. Deceit shook her head.

“Then yes. I want you to take my heart.”

“As you wish.” She shut her eyes and turned her focus to the sound of Phoenix’s beating heart, forcing its steady rhythm to the forefront of her mind. It grew rapidly in volume as she gathered more and more power from deep within her, drawing it into her fingertips. “I need a name. Your full name, specifically.”

“Why?”

“Names have power, and by using someone’s name, the command has a stronger hold on them.”

“I don’t want that though, do I?”

“I shouldn’t think so, but I believe you don’t want to die even more. We’re doing this my way or not at all.”

“Roman Hoàng.”

“Roman Hoàng,” she repeated, breathing in time with each beat of Phoenix’s—Roman’s—heart and feeling the way the air vibrated with the sound of them. Concentrating on pulling those vibrations together and turning them into raw power, she commanded, “Give me your heart.”

Roman’s eyes glazed over, and Deceit gasped at the surge of feeling that struck her chest. She directed that feeling to her left hand, watching as a golden string formed from it. The string twisted over itself in midair, only halting its intricate movements and floating about aimlessly once it had tied itself around her fingers.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, looking up from the string and searching Roman’s face for any trace of emotion, any indication that she’d done something wrong.

Roman continued staring at her blankly, and Deceit gave a satisfied nod before directing the golden string through the air with her other hand, moving her finger in a circular motion once it reached Roman’s chest to tie it around their heart.

“Roman Hoàng?”

Blinking for a moment as they regained their bearings, Roman’s face remained blank. Once the string appeared to have properly gripped their heart though, they smiled. “That’s me.”

Letting out a breath, Deceit plastered a smile on her face and tried to assure herself that everything was going according to plan.

_________________________

“What have you done to them?”

“I’ve merely taken their heart.”

“You took— What— what does that mean?”

“Virgil, darling, calm down. There’s no need for you to panic, Roman is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know their name?!” Virgil’s voice had started to take on a hint of hysteria, the pitch of it rising as the look in their eyes grew more frantic.

“They told me, of course. Surely you know by now that to properly take someone’s heart, I need their name.”

“Yeah, of course I know that, but would did Roman tell you theirs?”

“This was their idea, dearest.”

“It was—” Virgil frowned, pausing in confusion. “What?”

“Well, you see, I told them that for you to be freed, I wanted their heart. They then offered to figuratively give me their heart, for me to take control of each and every one of their emotions and— well. I’m sure you can figure out the rest,” she said, gesturing to Roman’s lifeless form with a smirk.

“So you control them now.”

“Very good, Virgil! How truly observant of you to notice.”

“I— Deceit, words cannot express how much I completely despise you.”

“Mm, yes, fantastic, but I’m afraid I must be going. I have a city to take over now, after all.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, actually, though it’s truly flattering that you want to.”

Virgil let out a genuine growl at that. “I’ll get them back.”

“Oh, of course you will. I believe that whole-heartedly.”

“And you should. I promise you that one day soon, you’ll regret everything you’ve done to them.”

“I’m terrified. Honestly, I’ve never feared for my life more than I do right now.”

Virgil hissed, narrowing their eyes and Deceit was hit by a familiar feeling of cold, paralyzing fear. She shook it off easily—Virgil was incredibly out of practice, and Deceit’s will was stronger than his would ever be—but a few traces of that all-encompassing cold remained. “Nice try,” she said, a simpering smile on her face.

“I will save him,” Virgil insisted once more.

“Cute,” Deceit replied, turning away from him and gesturing for Roman to trail after her. “I await your attempts with baited breath.”

Even after she’d made it a full two blocks from the abandoned park she’d met Virgil in, Deceit still clearly heard the scream of fury they let out.

_________________________

Deceit was on top of the world.

Or, at least, she should have been. She owned this city now, after all. Everything she’d ever wanted was at her fingertips.

So why did it all feel… wrong?

Deceit sighed, pulling her legs up onto the couch and turning so she was lying down on it. She turned her head to the side, glancing over at where Roman was sitting down on another couch to her right. “Do you know what’s wrong?” she asked, knowing perfectly well that she wasn’t going to get any sort of response from them.

Roman, of course, didn’t answer. Deceit sighed again. “Didn’t think so.”

She stood up and walked over to the window, suddenly feeling thoroughly restless. Gazing out at the city that—if she tilted her head just so and held her finger at the right angle—was held quite literally beneath her thumb, she pondered once more why she wasn’t happy.

Deceit stepped back from the window, turning to pace the length of the room. She had everything now: more power than any one person should reasonably possess, people that would bend to her will if she so much as raised an eyebrow at them, money, influence—she even had Roman, the city’s favorite hero, the epitome of everything she said she hated—everything she did hate. She glanced back at them, ignoring the guilt that had been gnawing at her more and more often recently. It didn’t matter, whatever the reason for it was. She had everything.

She had everything.

Deceit returned to the couch she’d gotten up from barely a minute ago, sitting down with a huff and letting her head fall against the back of it. She stared up at the ceiling for a solid minute before the silence got to her again.

“I’m missing something, aren’t I?” she asked no one. “What else do I want?”

Running through a mental list, she shook her head, still coming up empty. Well, empty save for one thing. She didn’t particularly want to acknowledge it, but if it would help stop whatever she was feeling… “Roman,” she began, breaking the silence as she lifted her head to look at them as she patted the white cushion to her left. “Come sit over here, if you please.”

Roman did so, seeing as they quite literally had no choice in the matter.

“I want you to tell me the truth, alright?” Roman nodded in response, and Deceit decided that was agreement enough. “Do you think I’m lonely?”

Roman blinked. Their eyes, still glassy under Deceit’s control, glittered dully. If she’d thought it were possible, Deceit could have sworn the spark in their eyes had been an amused one. “Yes,” they finally stated, any sign of life having faded when she searched their face again.

“Yes,” Deceit repeated, her voice almost robotic in its monotone. She sighed, looking away from Roman’s blank features in favor of glaring at the ceiling. “Well, in that case, fuck.”

As the annoyance at her situation slowly faded, she glanced over towards Roman again. “Is there—” She stopped, shaking her head and doing her very best to ignore how strange it was to be asking for advice from someone who was essentially her puppet. “Is there anything I can do to… I don’t know, stop being lonely?”

This time, Deceit was almost certain she wasn’t imagining the amusement in Roman’s eyes when they once more replied, “Yes.”

Letting out a frustrated hiss, she glared at Roman before asking, “Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Can you say anything else?”

“No.”

Deceit made another angry hissing noise in response to that, cursing her own powers for giving the victims of them so little control. “What the hell are you good for then?” she muttered.

Roman shrugged, and this time, Deceit was actually certain there was something strange in the look they were giving her.

She groaned, wracking her brain to come up with a way around her own powers. The silence and Roman’s brown eyes—that currently seemed to be lit from within with a golden glow, not that the fact was relevant—on her were steadily growing more uncomfortable. “You know what?” she said, deciding that anything would be better than this, “Roman Hoàng, tell me a story.”

“Gladly,” they began, the first smile of theirs Deceit had seen in a very long time spreading across their face. “Once upon a time—”

Deceit made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Not one of those stories.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Once upon a time,” they repeated, blatantly ignoring Deceit’s objection, “there lived a knight.”

Deceit sighed, resigning herself to suffering through whatever story Roman came up with. It would give her time to think without being the sole focus of those damned eyes, at least.

“This knight wanted nothing more than to protect their kingdom, and they did so as best they could. They trained day after day, relentless in their pursuit of perfection.

“One day, they met the heir to the throne. They didn’t know he was the heir though, not at first. This was the first person they’d ever felt comfortable calling a friend, and the knight had no intention of searching for ways to ruin that. So they ignored any indication that the person they’d met may have been royalty, swearing to protect them without regard for who they were.

“The knight would one day discover that their friend was the heir to the throne, of course, but that wouldn’t be for a long, long time—long enough that the knight had time to be promoted to the captain of the guard, rising in station as people finally began to take notice of their power and skill. They were moving up in the world, and the knight couldn’t have been happier about it, nor could the heir have been prouder.

“Around that time, the knight met someone else. It’s important to note, at this point in the story, that the heir to the throne wasn’t all that he may have seemed on the surface. There was a certain darkness to them, a darkness that, like their royal status, the knight willfully ignored. No matter how the heir tried to hide it, his past simply wouldn’t stop haunting him. He wanted to keep his new friend as far from it as possible, but that was not to be. For you see, a few months after the knight met the heir, they met the mage as well.

“The mage wasn’t evil. That was the first thing the knight figured out upon meeting her. Contrary to what all the stories about her may have said, she very clearly wasn’t evil. Misguided, yes, and most certainly lonely, but far from evil. And despite themself, the knight found themself rather taken by her. She was fascinating and truly, it would be more of a shock if the knight hadn’t been enamored by everything about her.

“The heir to the throne had known the mage, once upon a time—she was a part of his darkness, after all—and he constantly reminded the knight that she was more than what she appeared to be. She wanted power, she wanted to rule the kingdom, she hated the heir, she was evil. This is what the heir told the knight, and he wouldn’t listen to anything that might dispute it.

“The knight was convinced that their friend was wrong, though. The mage didn’t want to hurt anyone, the knight knew that as surely as they knew their own name. And yet— something about her still gnawed at them.

“They told their friend this one day, and that was when the heir finally admitted to who he was. ‘I’m the heir to the throne,’ he said, and the knight wished they could have said the revelation came as a shock. ‘I knew the mage, once upon a time, but she betrayed me. She’s evil, I can promise you that. I wish you would believe me.’ The knight agreed. They wished they could believe him too.

“There was still something distinctly wrong about that tale, though. The knight didn’t believe that the mage would have betrayed the heir to the throne without reason, and they made it their goal to find out why. They claimed it was to protect the kingdom—after all, it was in everyone’s best interest for the captain of the guard to know the kingdom’s enemies well—but there was another motivation hidden behind that mask of heroism and selflessness, a motivation the knight very much didn’t want to acknowledge. So they didn’t.

“The heir to the throne insisted on coming with the knight on this mission, and who was the knight to say no? The heir too claimed it was to protect the kingdom, but the knight sensed an unacknowledged motivation behind his words just the same. They weren’t going to mention it though, not when they were just as guilty of having staunchly ignored ulterior motives.

“The heir and the knight traveled for days before finding the mage. Neither could decide what to do from there. The knight wanted to talk to her, but the heir reminded them once more that she was evil and not to be reasoned with.

“Debatably, then, it was a good thing that the mage made that choice for them. She dropped from above, like an angel from heaven, and very much unlike an angel, she snatched the heir right off of his horse.

“With that, she vanished.”

Deceit blinked at Roman, momentarily stunned. That wasn’t like any sort of fairytale she’d heard before and quite frankly, she felt it was a thinly veiled retelling of Roman’s own life story. She couldn’t quite figure out where they were going with the whole thing, though the slightly heavy-handed angel analogy did point her in what she believed was the right direction. Still, the whole thing was very curious and taking an awful lot of rambling to get to whatever point Roman was trying to make. “Roman, darling, while this story is simply fascinating I absolutely adore you, I’d very much appreciate it if you could get to the point soon.”

Roman flashed her a classic smile, continuing as though she hadn’t interrupted at all. “The knight, naturally, decided that they had to find and save the heir, even if it killed them to do so.”

Raising an eyebrow, Deceit couldn’t help but remark, “The knight in this story is rather foolish, don’t you think?”

“The knight,” Roman said, a slight glare marring their features, “cared deeply about the heir, and they weren’t going to let someone, even the beautiful mage—”

“Beautiful, hm?”

At that, Roman gave Deceit a look that quite clearly told her ‘no more interruptions.’ Raising her hands in what she hoped was a placating manner, she went silent again.

“The knight wasn’t going to let anyone take away their closest friend, so they dedicated themself to searching the whole world if that was what it would take to find him. The knight searched the countryside, traveling through three separate towns and wandering aimlessly for nearly a week before they found the mage again.

“Relieved and desperate, the knight asked for the heir back without preamble, offering anything the mage would be willing to take.

“The mage, in response, requested their heart.

“‘My heart?’ the knight asked, incredulous. ‘Why would you want that?’

“‘I’m evil, darling, why else would I want it?’”

“Hey! That’s not what I—” Deceit cut herself off upon seeing Roman’s glare returned anew. She sighed. “Go on.”

Roman continued as though they hadn’t been interrupted at all. “‘I’m evil, darling, why else would I want it?’ the mage replied, smiling with false sweetness. ‘Besides,’ she said with a careless wave of her hand, ‘you did say anything, didn’t you?’

“The knight really didn’t want to die, so they thought their way around the mage’s request. ‘What if I fell in love with you instead? That’s another way for someone to give up their heart, and you can do that, can’t you?’ the knight asked, hoping their words would ring true.

“‘I wouldn’t be able to make you fall in love with me, but I suppose I could take control of the rest of your emotions,’ the mage agreed, though she warned the knight about how much control she’d have over them if they did choose this option. The knight thought it odd how much she cared all of a sudden, but they eventually opted to ignore it. They figured that when she wanted to tell them about her feelings—whatever they may have been—she would.”

Deceit frowned. She hadn’t thought her own hesitation was that strange—not strange enough to notice, at least, and besides, physically harming someone was far different than taking over their mind—but perhaps she ought to think about why that particular request had troubled her so much. Roman seemed to think it was worth noting, and they clearly knew more about this whole situation than they had originally let on. Deceit stayed silent, listening as Roman continued to tell their story.

“The knight—deciding that even losing their free will was preferable to death and feeling secure in the fact that somehow, someway, they would find a way out of this—allowed the mage to perform her spell on them.

“After that, the knight’s mind went quiet for a while. They couldn’t think clearly, not while they were under the mage’s control. They were only able to take in the barest hints of their surroundings, and the world seemed to pass them by in a sort of surreal blur. That is, it did until they heard the voice of the heir to the throne.

“Hearing their friend's voice snapped the knight back to reality, and though they still weren’t able to do anything, at least now they were aware of what was going on.

“‘I’ll get them back,’ the heir said of the knight. ‘I can promise you that.’

“In response to that, the mage laughed. ‘That would be a fool’s errand, but I wish you luck in your endeavors nonetheless.’ With that, the mage swept her cloak out to the side and dropped into an exaggerated curtsy.

“Watching as the mage turned to leave, the knight trailing after her, the heir couldn’t help himself when he spit, ‘You’re evil, you know that? I don’t know what you hope to achieve here, but I can promise you that there isn’t a single person in this entire kingdom who thinks otherwise, not even your precious knight.’

“The mage froze upon hearing the heir’s words, though she didn’t turn back around. The knight couldn’t see her face, but even standing several feet behind her, they could feel the waves of hurt rolling off her.

“But the thing was, the knight didn’t think of the mage that way at all. At the very least, the knight thought of her as a friend despite everything that she’d done. If they were feeling brave, they would have admitted that they may have harbored a few romantic feelings toward her as well. The point still stood though: the knight really, truly didn’t believe that the mage was evil. They wished they could tell her this, but they didn’t exactly have the free will to do so.” Roman looked rather pointedly towards Deceit at that, though she pretended not to notice. What they were saying, what they were implying—she didn’t know how to handle that. So she stayed silent, waiting for Roman to continue their story once more.

Seeming to realize that Deceit wasn’t going to acknowledge any of what they’d just said, Roman sighed. “No matter what the knight believed though, the heir was right. The kingdom still saw her as a villain, and knights didn’t fall for—weren’t even friends with—villains. There was nothing the knight could do to change that, not until the spell that the mage had put on them was broken.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Roman, I’ve told you that’s not possible. There isn’t anything in the world that can break my hold over you.”

Roman raised their own eyebrow right back, a clear challenge in their eyes. “The knight had heard that true love’s kiss would break any curse.”

“So?”

“So the knight thought an ideal scenario would involve kissing the mage.”

Deceit scoffed. “True love’s kiss doesn’t actually work in real life. Besides, the love has to be reciprocated for it to work, and I’m so sorry to break this to you, but I don’t love you.”

“The knight thought that was absolute bullshit.”

“The knight can stop talking about themself in third person now.”

“The knight actually enjoys thinking of themself as a knight, so they won’t.”

Though she tried to hide it, Deceit let out a genuine—albeit quickly stifled—laugh at that. “Fine then. Roman Hoàng, please, please stop talking about yourself in third person.”

Roman pouted at her as though to say, ‘You’re no fun.’

She waved away their complaints with a casual flick of her hand. “I’m aware, but it’s difficult to decipher what you’re trying to communicate when you’re doing so through a fairy tale.”

Roman sat there, watching her with an air of impatience about him.

“Oh! Yes, right. Roman Hoàng, tell me whatever it was you were trying to communicate through that little story of yours, and do so clearly and concisely, if you please.”

Though their pout remained, reminding Deceit that she was, in fact, no fun, Roman began speaking once more, this time unhindered by the need to translate what they wanted to say through a fairy tale lens. “I don’t think you’re evil.”

“Well, I am, so I’m afraid your beliefs are rather naïve, if flattering.”

“I may or may not be in love with you.”

“That’s not at all clear.”

Roman rolled their eyes. “I am in love with you.”

“Mm, I was afraid of that. A terrible choice really, especially if you plan to keep trying to save the city.”

“This isn’t exactly my choice, you know. For the record though, even if it were, I wouldn’t regret it.”

Deceit pretended she hadn’t blushed even a little bit at that.

“In any case,” Roman continued, trying and failing to hide the smug look on their face, “there’s one more thing I wanted to say.”

Shoving aside the fluttery feeling in her chest, Deceit slipped on a mask of poise and calm, saying, “Do tell.”

“While I am, of course, very much aware of the fact that true love’s kiss doesn’t work in real life, I still believe that love is a powerful force. If it were strong enough, I don’t doubt that a kiss backed by that sort of love could break me out of your control completely, especially if you wanted that to happen.”

“And why would I want that?”

Roman raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Deceit continued, “I’ve already told you, Roman, I’m not in love with you. I have everything, and I don’t believe giving that up would be in my best interest.”

Roman remained silent, fixing Deceit with an impatient stare again.

She sighed. “Fine. Roman Hoàng, respond to what I say if you have something of importance to contribute.”

“You’re lonely,” Roman said, pointing out what Deceit had been afraid they’d say from the start.

“And? I don’t think a little bit of companionship is worth losing everything else I have.”

“What makes you think you’d lose everything?”

Deceit laughed. “Do you expect me to believe that once you’re free from my control you wouldn’t immediately try to free the city as well?” She paused, waiting for Roman to dispute her claim.

They didn’t.

She waved a hand at their silent form as though that proved her point completely. “Exactly.”

“Deceit, there are more important things than power.”

“But few are as reliable. How would I know you wouldn’t one day betray me? Trust is a fickle thing, Roman Hoàng, and I don’t like to rely on it.”

“Power can fade at any moment too, you know.”

“Mm, but I can win it back in the blink of an eye. I’m not worried about that, not as long as I have you.”

“Why me, though? You can beat me, you’ve done it… possibly more than I’d care to admit.”

“It’s not about that. I know I can beat you. It’s the fact that you give people hope. As long as you’re free, I could control every other person in this entire city and they would still fight. Give yourself more credit.”

“Do you think so?”

“Oh, I know so. Do you see anyone fighting now?”

“No, but—”

Deceit held up her hand, halting Roman’s argument. “Before I had you, I did essentially control the entire city. You realize that, right? I had some form of control over every city official, every villain that I felt may have been a threat, and every other hero was afraid to show their face. But the city still had hope. You must have felt it yourself, surely.”

“I did, but I— I didn’t think it was because of me.”

“Well, it was. I had suspected it before, but I proved that after I took you out of the picture. No one wants to fight anymore. It’s rather boring, honestly.”

“You could always free me.”

“How many times do I have to—”

“I’m kidding. I know you can’t, and I forgive you.”

Deceit looked at them curiously. “I’m sorry, you what?” she asked, the hint of a laugh beneath her words.

“I forgive you.”

“I never apologized.”

“I know,” Roman replied, and the smile they gave her was full of such warmth that Deceit didn’t even know what to think of it. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her with such kindness.

“Oh,” was all she managed in response. She would have asked for clarification, but judging solely from the look on Roman’s face, Deceit could tell with absolute certainty that they were forgiving her for more than just not being able to lift her control over them. “Oh,” she repeated, softer this time. Watching them for a little while longer, Deceit felt a warmth rising in her chest to match the look on Roman’s face. She couldn’t tell if she liked the feeling or not. Either way though, she took a breath. “Roman—”

Whatever Deceit had been about to say was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. She startled, turning towards the noise behind her. Peering down the dimly lit hallway, she frowned, watching carefully for any disturbance. She stood up, reaching into an inner pocket of her fur coat for a dagger. “Show yourself,” she commanded, threading as much power as she could into the words.

A figure stepped out of the shadows to the right of the hallway, just as Deceit had ordered them to.

“Walk to this end of the hall and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Seeing as they had no choice in the matter, the figure obeyed once more.

Deceit blinked, shocked recognition suddenly washing over her at the feeling of numbing cold now pulsing through the air. “Virgil?”

The figure kept walking.

“Virgil, stop.”

They stopped.

So it was Virgil, then. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Deceit knew why he was here, of course, but she was going to search in vain for a different answer before she accepted it. She gripped the dagger tighter, preparing for the worst—preparing for what she knew Virgil was going to say.

“I’m here to save Roman.”

Deceit sighed rather dramatically. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said, lifting her right arm before hurling the dagger at Virgil’s shoulder. He dodged it easily, escaping with only a graze to his hoodie, but Deceit hadn’t really been planning on hitting them anyway. The brief distraction gave her time to vault herself over the back of the couch, pulling another dagger from behind her back as she closed the distance between them.

“I’ve been practicing, you know.”

“I’m terrified, truly.”

“I really think you should be this time.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so openly flippant, but Deceit rolled her eyes at Virgil’s words anyway. Her heartbeat had sped up slightly with the instinctive onslaught of nerves at his threat, but she didn’t honestly believe he’d be able to do enough damage to incapacitate her.

Virgil seemed to realize this, a sharp-toothed grin spreading over their face. He raised his hand, fingers extended to guide the shadows emitting from them towards Deceit. It could have been her imagination, but the approaching cold felt a good deal worse than it had last time. She felt her heart begin to pound harder. Raising a hand as though to stop them, she began to say, “Virgil, stop usi—”

She was cut off with a scream as the shadows shot like the quickest flash of lighting from Virgil’s fingertips and a feeling of intense cold struck her chest.

It was far, far worse than it had been last time.

All she could feel was cold. Cold, and now an ever-growing fear that held her frozen in place. She couldn’t place what it was that she feared yet, but the feeling closed in like a vice around her heart and she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

“Deceit.”

She took a gasping breath, the darkness that had been clouding her vision lifting more with each passing second. “Virgil,” she finally replied, plastering on the fakest smile she’d possibly ever given, her heart still feeling like it was trying to escape her chest.

“How do I free them?”

“Oh, you can’t,” she laughed, her mask of confidence falling back into place with ease. “My control over Roman is permanent, I’m afraid.”

“Is it, now?”

“Very much so.”

“Would true love’s kiss break it?”

“You know, Roman asked the same thing,” Deceit said, amusement coloring her voice. “I told them no just as I’m going to tell you no, because as I said, there’s no way to break my control over them.”

Virgil glared at Deceit from his place in front of Roman. “I don’t believe you,” they said, promptly kissing Roman on the lips.

When he pulled back, Deceit couldn’t help but roll her eyes, saying, “See, I told you it wasn’t going to—”

“You lied.” Virgil’s voice pierced through the residual fog that still lingered in Deceit’s mind from the fear that had gripped her a few moments before. “You lied,” he repeated. “Not that I’m surprised, of course, but—”

“I didn’t lie,” she insisted, walking back around the couch so she could see Roman’s face for herself. “A kiss shouldn’t have worked, not unless…” she trailed off, unsure of what, exactly, she’d been about to say. “It shouldn’t have worked,” she echoed, trying to convince herself just as much as Virgil.

Virgil ignored her protests, placing a gentle hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Roman’s eyes, which had been closed just moments before, shot open. They blinked, taking in their surroundings. “Did you—  did that—”

“Can you stand?” Virgil asked, avoiding the question for the time being as he rose from where he’d been kneeling on the ground, offering a hand out to Roman.

“I— yeah.” Without any prompting from Deceit at all, Roman stood up from the couch, allowing Virgil to latch onto their arm and help them stay upright.

“That’s— that’s literally impossible,” Deceit insisted once more.

“Well,” Roman began, stretching out each finger individually, “I did say that I thought true love’s kiss combined with you genuinely wanting to free me would be enough to—”

“And if you’ll recall,” Deceit hissed out through tightly clenched teeth, “I told you that I didn’t want to free you so your point was not only irrelevant, it was also wrong because, once again, that’s not how this works.”

“Do you have a better explanation?”

Deceit paused. “Not exactly, but—”

“If I know anything about you, Deceit, it’s that you lie.” Virgil’s sharp smile was back again, and though the look he’d given Roman was as gentle, his tone was anything but. “Whether it’s to others or to yourself, even, you lie. I think you just don’t want to admit that you might actually care about someone.”

Roman frowned. “Virge, I really don’t think that was necessary.”

“No, he’s right, Roman. As sweet as it is of you to try and defend me, it’s not—I’m not—worth your time.” Deceit smiled in a way that was intended to come out far more mocking than she felt it had succeeded in doing. She feared that it—and her words as well—had come out more self-deprecating than anything else. “I think you should leave.”

“Are you— you’re just going to let us go?” Roman made to take a step forward but was stopped before they actually did, their arm suddenly held in place by the hand Virgil gripped it with.

“Well, I don’t particularly fancy feeling that—” she gestured towards Virgil, not even attempting to describe whatever it was that his magic had done to her, “—again, so yes. I’m just going to let you go. Getting you back will be easy enough anyhow, I don’t mind,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand.

A concerned frown was growing on Roman’s face. “I don’t—”

“Ro,” Virgil interrupted. “Let’s go. Before she changes her mind.”

“For the record, I’m not going to,” Deceit assured them both, turning towards the kitchen in search of a glass of wine, “but I would still very much appreciate it if you left.”

With a final squeeze of Roman’s arm, Virgil let go of it and walked back down the hallway and towards the window they’d broken through on their way in, trusting that Roman was following him.

They did for a few steps, but stopped again almost immediately. “Deceit—”

She turned to face them with a glare, a newly poured glass of wine now in her hand. “What?”

“I just—” Roman frowned, seeming to search for the right words.

Deceit raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter and gesturing with her already half-empty glass for them to continue.

“Thank you,” they said finally.

“Thank y— what are you thanking me for?” Deceit asked, a feeling of confusion washing over her.

“Just… thank you.” Roman shot her a soft smile following their words as though either had helped her understand what was going on.

Before Deceit could say anything else, Roman turned to follow Virgil, hurrying down the hall after him.

Deceit stared at the spot where Roman had been standing moments before, an almost stunned look in her eyes. Reaching behind her for the bottle of wine she’d set down, she refilled her glass nearly to the brim. She took a sip, sighing once more. Something strange was going on, and the only thing Deceit could conclude about it all was that she was going to need far more than one bottle of wine to deal with it.

_________________________

find other stuff i’ve written in my masterpost

[nyandereneko]

*eyes emoji* free pass to gush about Saruhiko GO! (I miss K project so much)

I know I’m late answering this and I’m sorry but hopefully I can make up for it now lol

👀👀👀👀 my boy….my pride and joy……the love of my life…………I’m always so excited to encounter people that also know what k proj is since the fandom is so dead but I’m still going strong!! And it’s pretty much all thanks to him lol, thank YOU so much for asking and despite my best efforts to keep this short, knowing me things will Just Not pan out that way so I’ll put it under a readmore jic…

WHERE TO BEGIN,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I don’t get the chance to just “gush” that often and I’m kind of bad at it because open ended things like this make me a little nervous…which isn’t a bad thing, I’m still really glad you sent it, I just always worry without any constraints I’ll just ramble on and on (admittedly like I am now) and end up getting off track so I’ll just focus on what I like about him I suppose!!

Saruhiko is kind of a bastard ghielsjfesf or definitely, no question about it, but that’s because he never learned how to properly regulate his emotions or manage relationships. I identify with him a lot because his antisocial and antagonistic demeanor and the betrayal he feels from being replaced (imagined or otherwise) really resonates with me…I’ve been replaced by people quite a bit in my lifetime and it’s lead me to have all sorts of issues with relationships and how I handle things, and I feel like we would understand that about each other and be able to read each other better as a result.

Having dealt with similar issues and understanding where they’re coming from, I like to think we’d be able to help each other from a place of experience and offer the kind of help we wish we’d had before. We’d also be able to watch out for each other, picking up on little signs and things that other people may not usually notice, but that we recognize because ofc we’ve gone through it before. He really is kind under all the pent of layers of frustration and apathy, and despite all his complaining and fussing he does a lot to help others whether he realizes it or not. 

That isn’t to say I want to excuse all the bad stuff he did and I really disagree with a lot of the lashing out and immature pettiness he exhibited, but as a kid that practically raised himself and very expressly didn’t matter to his family, he just had a lot to learn and nowhere to learn it from. As nice as H0MRA is I think joining S4 was one of the best things he ever could of done because not only did it give him an opportunity to showcase his talents and abilities (which he kind of just wants to be recognized for) but it also gave him a chance to warm up to the other Clansmen on his own terms rather than just being expected to be buddy buddy right from the get go? Forcing those kind of bonds and emotions never would have worked for him, clearly never did, and being placed in an environment where he could feel things out and still keep people at a distance if he wanted, if he needed to, allowed him to test the waters of companionship in a less pressured way I guess?

Now I’m kind of getting more into character analysis though so gheislfjes I’ll try to wrap this up with a quick list of things I love about him:

his appearance! everything about it; his hair, his eyes, in casual clothes or pjs or uniform, just GOD everything about him is so attractive I love and adore him so much T^T

his fighting skills, the way he wields both knives and swords is downright mesmerizing to me, sometimes it even looks like he’s dancing and I LIVE for shit like that!!!

his powers in general!! my SI is a blue clansmen so it’s nice that we get to share that Aura, but also I like to break canon and do all sorts of things with his Red one too…the bulk of which is just him being able to alter his body temp and stuff with it so he can make himself all warm and perfect for snuggling AND sometimes when he’s startled or flustered or whatever his Red Aura will flare up uncontrollably (like making his hands extra warm, maybe even glow red, or something along those lines…a literally burning blush lol) and it’s just cute

his humor, this bitch is so snarky and seeing him banter (especially with the Captain) is hilarious. or getting to see the other squad members trying to interact with him in a friendly manner or pull him into their shenanigans…I just love my entire Blue Fam so much!!

he’s really so smart and talented!! he’s a certified genius and even if he wasn’t he’d still probably be more impressive than me lol, but I think it’s amazing he’s been able to accomplish so much! he likes to tinker with things and improve them to his standards or specifications and he’s just a really quick thinker and I want to love and support any and all endeavors he happens to undertake!

I feel like a lot of that stuff is vague but that’s about the best I can come up with at the moment, if you want to know anything specific I’d be happy to answer any other questions you have, and thank you again for giving me the chance to do this I don’t get to talk about Saruhiko as often because no one really knows who he is ghiesljfgelgh which is fine!! But I love my darling dual Aura boy so much he’s so special to me and I just want to shower him in all the love and affection and appreciation always.

[sign-from-god-complex]

A Gift From Me To You - Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Logan examines his emotions.

Warnings: Mild description of a panic attack? Not necessarily sure that’s what it was, but jic! Suicide mention.

A/N: Boy, this whole fic is just 20k+ words of hurt/comfort, huh? Well, I’m nothing if not predictable I suppose 😆

Also, I don't even have one more full chapter written, so not loving that! I don't want to have to put off the next upload but I might have to if I can't get another chapter finished in time. I was worried this would happen when I started the fic, honestly, but I went for it anyway. With any luck, it'll all work out okay.

AO3 Link //  Link to Chapter One! //  And Two! // And Three! // And Four!

Logan was an idiot.

Yes, he knew that this ruse wasn’t going to last forever, but he had been at least hoping it would have granted him a couple of days. It seemed he couldn’t even get that. He sighed. He really needed to stop underestimating Patton’s mothering abilities.

The whole situation was exhausting. It didn’t make any sense! There was absolutely no reason for him to develop a soulmark at 17 years of age—no reason, of course, except for the universe wanting him to suffer. He was perfectly fine on his own, he was independent and self-sufficient and that’s the way he preferred it.

That was a lie, of course. He was self-aware enough to realise that.

No matter how much he tried to pretend he was completely independent, he knew that so much of his mental wellbeing relied on the wellbeing of his friends. Keeping Patton and Roman happy had become one of Logan’s top priorities, often causing him to go out of his way to do things he wouldn’t normally do, such as take an extra cookie to school with him for Patton, or attend those ridiculous stage productions Roman so adored.

Truthfully, the first time Logan had seen Patton his immediate thoughts had essentially been, “Oh, no, please don’t come over and talk to me”. 

Patton had seemed so bubbly and far, far too intense for Logan’s liking and when he’d headed over to introduce himself once they’d been paired up for the project, Logan had tensed. Though, Patton, ever the empath, had picked up on this immediately.

Patton’s first greeting to Logan had been bright, but it had been soft somehow. When they talked about the project, it wasn’t Logan giving 100% and Patton leeching off his ideas, Patton took an active part in the planning sessions and even engaged in some pretty excellent discussions.

His friendship with Patton was one of the most balanced relationships Logan had ever been a part of—even if there were far more puns than he would like—and if Logan ever pushed too hard, Patton pushed back, just enough for him to realise he was being an asshole.

And Roman. Oh, Roman.

This year Logan found himself looking forward to attending math classes far more than he ever had in his life. Math had always been boring for him, as it was generally very easy and had little real-world application, but now he knew that he’d get a chance to see Roman and that made all the difference.

Logan acted as if he was annoyed by Roman’s incessant rambling, pretending not to listen as he talked about whatever amazing TV show Logan had to watch. Quite honestly, though, he found it calming. It was nice to be able to socialise with someone like that, to not have to worry about coming up with appropriate responses because Roman had the whole conversation covered.

Logan’s relationship with Roman was definitely passionate if nothing else. A fair amount of their interactions ended in disagreements, regardless of how serious they were, and if Roman didn’t insult him at least twice a day Logan would be worried something was wrong.

They had their soft moments all the same though. A favourite of his was the time Roman had asked Logan to tutor him in maths. It was the first time Logan had really seen him display any kind of insecurity; he knew that Roman’s exaggerated self-confidence was a lie, but he’d never seen it deflate quite as quickly as it did that day.

Logan had persevered though, encouraging Roman as well as he was able and trying to come up with alternative ways for him to absorb the information that he needed. When Roman bumped his test scores up from a D to a B+, the look of absolute joy on his face as he hugged Logan was something he couldn’t forget if he tried.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d let it get this point, but Logan was stupidly in love with his best friends.

Stupidly, because clearly, they were already together. He knew developing feelings for them was just setting himself up to get hurt, but his heart (or his brain, if you wanted to be scientifically accurate) refused to listen.

He tried to ignore it as best he could—he couldn’t afford to be dealing with emotions—but sometimes Patton would giggle or Roman would jokingly flirt with him and Logan would forget he’s supposed to be pretending. He’d open up just a little bit further to those wonderful feelings before shutting it all down again. He couldn’t. And now he especially couldn’t.

He had a soulmate—a reality he didn’t want to face but was true nonetheless.

He was going to get sucked into someone else’s world, someone he likely didn’t care about being with in the first place. He was going to have his feelings manipulated to view them as the most important person he’d ever met, the most incredible partner he could ever have... And then the eventual tragedy. There’s a reason the suicide rate among soulmates is so high; once one of them dies, the other soon follows, he knows that well.

He didn’t want any of that! He didn’t want to be forced to fall in love, to be so utterly dependant on someone he doesn’t even know. Things were fine the way they were! He didn’t need to be with Roman and Patton as long as he could just be near them, and he didn’t want some imaginary “perfect partner” to come and steal him away from his best friends. It was completely ridiculous!

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everything about this was stupid! He was locked into this stupid path now and his whole life was going to be turned upside down and it was just so unbelievably stupid!

Logan realised his chest was heaving and his eyes were blurry with tears and he tried his best to control his breathing; count his way through his inhales and exhales the way Patton had taught others many times before. He pressed his back up against the wall and slid his way down to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest.

The ground wasn’t as hard beneath him as he was expecting and he pressed his hands down on either side of him. Carpet. Carefully, he pushed his head back against the wall—it was cool. He didn’t know much about the construction of buildings, but it was solid. Not concrete, but firm; he doubted he could punch through it easily.

Logan’s breathing was slowing now that he had something to focus on. He knew Patton often used this as a grounding technique for people as well. Pay attention to your surroundings, list things you can see, list facts.

Opening his eyes, Logan could see the door on the other side of the room, still cracked open from when he came in. It was the only source of light. A single door; opens to the inside; painted blue.

The room was dark. The windows, if there are any, could be boarded up or covered. Logan couldn’t see them, so he couldn’t be sure. There was a table in front of him. He was sitting on the ground, and for now, he was safe.

He was safe.

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his chest expand and contract with each breath he took. After a few moments, Logan felt stable enough to stand and attempt to find a light switch. Fully unwinding the bandage around his wrist and dropping it to the floor—it was useless now—he warily made his way around the table, cautious of there being other objects he may trip over in the dark. After only a few seconds of searching, Logan flipped on the light and took a look around.

Ah. Of course, his subconscious mind would take him here.

The room Logan was greeted with when he switched on the light was one of the abandoned classrooms on the east side of campus. Logan wasn’t really sure what they’d been for during the time they were in use, but now they were mainly utilised as spare changing rooms for when the P.E. or drama classes didn’t have enough space.

They were also utilised, by Logan and Patton, as breakdown spaces.

Well, Logan said both him and Patton, but realistically, it was usually just Patton.

Patton was a highly emotional person. Although he spent so much of his time helping others with their flaws and uncertainties, he certainly wasn’t without his own. He tried to hide them for the most part, sneaking off to deal with his issues alone or concealing his negative emotions for fear of taking time away from people who “deserved it more” or something ridiculous like that.

However, Logan had unwittingly been let into the tiny circle of people that were allowed to see Patton at his most vulnerable and he did not take that for granted.

The first time Logan had seen Patton cry had been during a history lesson last year.

Technically, this was not the first time Logan had ever seen Patton cry—Patton cried quite frequently for all sorts of reasons, usually because of a particularly cute animal or an emotional TV show episode, but Logan didn’t count those. Those moments were a dime a dozen with Patton and generally meant very little and had no lasting consequence. But this? This had been the first time he’d ever seen Patton truly cry.

To this day Logan was still not exactly sure what had triggered it. One moment Patton had been sitting next to him, doodling in his notebook as the teacher lectured on about Bloody Sunday and the next he was attempting to stifle the tears that were dripping down onto the paper in front of him.

Quite honestly, Logan isn’t sure that he would have observed anything if Patton hadn’t knocked his drink bottle off his desk with his movements. It didn’t draw enough attention that the whole class took notice, though it was certainly enough for Logan to look over, and the image of Patton at that moment was still perfectly ingrained in his mind. His eyes had been wide, tears spilling down his cheeks and his mouth open in an ‘O’ shape. His hands had been hovering near his head in an imitation of surrender and Patton had looked ready to bolt.

So Logan had done the only appropriate thing he could think of.

“Ms Pascal?” Logan had said, raising his hand, “I’m not feeling very well, could I possibly take a walk outside for just 5 minutes? I’d like to get some air.”

Patton had moved from his frozen position at the sound of Logan’s voice, ducking his head down and pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. His tears had continued though, and Logan could tell as he watched him from the corner of his eye that his breathing was getting more erratic with every passing moment.

“Yes, Logan, that’s fine,” the teacher had replied, “And you’re permitted to take someone with you, as long as you’re both back quickly.”

Logan hadn’t responded to the teacher’s comment, instead, he’d risen from his desk and grabbed Patton’s hand. Patton’s eyes had been big and glazed behind his glasses as he looked up at him, but Logan had simply tugged his hand gently and said one word.

“Come.”

Patton had stumbled up from his chair, eyes red and watery, and he’d stopped quickly to place his drink bottle back on his desk before being pulled out of the room.

Witnessing Patton so distressed was jarring, to put it lightly. Patton was a happy, joyful person; he always had a smile on his face and time to listen to your problems. So watching him duck his head to hide his tears? Seeing him hunch over, trying to hide from the world and all it’s prying eyes? It was just wrong, and something in Logan’s chest had ached at the sight of it.

Logan had been lost for a moment about where exactly it was best to take Patton—bathrooms were too public, outside was too open—before he remembered the abandoned classrooms. They were out of the way and enclosed, the perfect combination for this scenario.

Without letting go of Patton’s hand—a fact that he later reflected on with a blush he would deny to his grave—Logan had led Patton in the direction of the building he was searching for. As he’d listened to Patton’s sniffing from just behind him, Logan had questioned if possibly he should be starting the comforting now, on the journey to the less overwhelming place. Logan hadn’t been exactly sure how to do that though, so he’d elected to ignore that thought and instead, continued on the way he was.

As they’d arrived at the classrooms, Logan had pulled Patton inside and shut the door firmly behind him, flicking the light on.

“There,” he’d said, turning around to look at Patton, “Hopefully this is a mor-”

Logan had been cut off by Patton barreling into him, knocking him against the now closed door. He could feel Patton sobbing into his shoulder, his hands gripping at Logan’s shirt and Logan had been at a slight loss at what exactly to do to rectify this situation.

He’d hesitantly wrapped his arms around Patton, rubbing his hand up and down his back in a manner that was supposed to be comforting, but likely just came off as awkward.

Clearly, Patton had been seeking some kind of physical contact, and though Logan may not necessarily be the best at that, he had certainly been willing to try. For Patton’s sake, of course. Not at all because the feeling of Patton this close to him had increased his heart rate tenfold.

Logan’s meagre attempts at comfort had continued for several minutes as he let Patton cry himself out and at some point he’d pulled Patton to the floor, correctly assuming it would be more comfortable and less tiring a position to maintain. Logan had found himself whispering too, reassuring Patton that he was alright, he was safe and everything was going to be okay. Generally, he found those kinds of platitudes to be relatively meaningless, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do.

And clearly it had been, as within a few more minutes, Patton had reached a more emotionally stable mindset. Or at least he had stopped crying, Logan couldn’t have been sure that anything had actually been resolved; it was always better not to jump to conclusions.

“Sorry, Lo,” Patton had said, wiping at his face with his sleeve, “I guess I just got a little overwhelmed. Nothing to worry about!”

Logan had not believed that in the slightest.

“Of course, Patton.” Logan had fixed him with a concerned look, but Patton had only beamed in response—even if it had been slightly more wobbly than normal. “Would you like to discuss it? I understand that you don’t want me to worry. However, I think I would be more worried if I allowed you to leave without first talking through whatever problem caused this… emotional outburst.”

Patton grin had dropped at that, his expression falling into pure exhaustion. Logan had been blinded for a moment by just how good Patton was at faking a smile; it was truly almost terrifying.

“It-” Patton had sniffed. “It’s silly, really.”

“I find that to be highly unlikely, Patton,” Logan had said kindly, “All experiences are subjective. I may not necessarily understand or relate to your situation, however, I recognise that it upset you greatly. Therefore it’s likely something that is important to you and not at all silly.”

Logan had received a more genuine smile at that, though it only lasted a moment before Patton had screwed up his face. He’d been marginally worried that Patton was going to cry again, but instead, he’d begun to speak.

“You’re right, Lo. I know you’re right. I just-”

Patton had cut himself off with a sigh. Logan had waited as Patton took a few minutes to gather his thoughts, not wanting to interrupt.

“Academic pressure, you know?” Patton’s eyes had been turned to the floor and Logan had directed his gaze in the same direction out of courtesy. “My parents are all brilliant, like, uh, neurosurgeon and high-level computer programmer kind of brilliant. And I’m their only kid! I just… I never feel like I’m living up to expectations. It’s not even their expectations I’m not fulfilling, it’s my own! I- I don’t know… I should be better.”

Logan had blinked; that had been, quite frankly, not what he had expected to hear. Patton was definitely brilliant, albeit in a different way than most, and Logan had been struck with the realisation that Patton didn’t understand how he was so brilliant. He’d needed to rectify that.

“Patton, have you ever heard of the theory of multiple intelligences?”

Patton had raised his eyes to meet Logan’s. “No? What is it?”

Logan had taken a deep breath; it was times like these where he was reminded of how much he despised the education system and all it stood for. This should be common knowledge—but he supposed the way things currently stood, that would be asking for too much.

“It’s a psychological theory proposed in the 1980s which essentially states that intelligence is more than how most perceive it,” Logan had begun, “It suggests 8 or 9 different types of intelligence based on a variety of criteria. This includes things like spacial or visual intelligence, musical intelligence and bodily-kinesthetic intelligence, as well as logical-mathematical intelligence—the more traditional measurement of intellect.”

Logan had studied Patton, trying to gauge his reaction to this information. Patton had been watching him attentively, but he hadn’t looked as if he’d realised the significance yet so Logan had pushed on.

“I quite clearly have high levels of logical-mathematical intelligence, as well as fairly high linguistic intelligence. This results in me getting good grades and having fewer issues with standardised tests—no-matter-how-bullshit-they-may-be.” Patton’s eyes had narrowed a little at the swear word, but he didn’t interrupt. “However, Patton, my point is that that is not the only valid type of intelligence.

“You display extremely high levels of interpersonal intelligence, along with high levels of linguistic and intrapersonal intelligence. Essentially, you are good at understanding your emotions, you are good at articulating them and you are excellent at empathising and assisting others. These are all extremely enviable skills. And they make you incredibly brilliant, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes had widened at that, and the fact that Patton had looked so surprised by someone calling him intelligent still made Logan angry to this day.

“Our school system puts emphasis on one of these types of intelligence over all others,” Logan had said softly, “However, that is not the way the world is. Good interpersonal skills are prized in a variety of different circumstances. I am always one for trying your best to do well in school, but don’t think that just because you may be struggling in an academic environment that you are stupid, Patton, because that could not be further from the truth.”

There had been a moment of silence.

Patton had been staring up at Logan like he was the centre of the universe and Logan had simultaneously hated it and wanted to experience nothing else for the rest of his short existence. It was intoxicating and absolutely terrifying. Patton’s eyes had been wide and watery and as the seconds ticked by where nothing was said, Logan had wondered if maybe he’d overstepped his boundaries.

Then, slowly, Patton had moved towards Logan until he was virtually sitting in his lap and had wrapped his arms around his chest, almost cuddling into him. Logan had completely frozen. There had been so much emotion in that one action and he’d had trouble processing any of it.

Almost as if on autopilot, Logan had put his arms around Patton as well, returning the gesture and relishing in the chance to receive physical affection from Patton without having to ask for it. Patton’s body in his arms had seemed small and fragile and at that moment Logan had felt so fiercely protective of his friend that it had frightened him. He’d really fallen in deep this time. Idiot.

“Thank you, Logan.” Patton had whispered and Logan had almost had to strain to hear him, “That really, really means a lot.”

Logan sat down on the ground beneath him. He could feel tears running down his face and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, wishing he had Patton here to comfort him and yet not wanting to be anywhere near him. This was all too much; he just wanted things to be easy!

He wanted things to go back to the way they were when he was a kid—his mother laughing from the kitchen as he finished his homework, brushing back his hair and kissing him on the forehead, talking through all of his problems with him.

She always seemed to know the right advice to give. It didn’t matter whether he was having trouble in school or whether he was fighting with his friends, she always knew how to help. Logan is sure she would have known exactly what he should do.

But his mother wasn’t here.

And Logan was lost.

And the door was being pushed open.

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Chapter 6

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[adventuresloane]

4 the ship meme, jic someone hasn't sent it yet: ned/boyd (i'm tired and i can't spell forgive me)

When I started shipping them: Once Clint described in detail how handsome and built Boyd is, repeatedly, I was like, “hmmm…gay.” But it was only after episode 25 of Amnesty that I really got into them big because like…come on…”if you still have any affection for me”? THESE ARE BOYFRIENDS.

My thoughts: You know, it’s kind of weird that I like them as much as I do, because I tend to really not go for ships in which the characters openly antagonize each other. I think it works for them, though, because there’s a reason behind their apparent dislike for each other, which goes beyond “you annoy me.” They have a history together that, I think, they both look back on with fondness, but it’s also one that’s left Boyd bitter and Ned guilty. 

What makes me happy about them: These old men are a bickering married couple and I love them for it. Also, like, I guess I just have a thing for thief characters and the idea of a ship that involves partners-in-crime for life? Man, we love that,

What makes me sad about them: the fact that Boyd is fucking dead…Griffin really did say “fuck moschicane lives,” huh? It really kills me that we didn’t get more scenes of them interacting and that their relationship didn’t change or come to a satisfying conclusion. I would have at least appreciated some form of reconciliation before Boyd died.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Tbh…since I haven’t been shipping them for that long I haven’t really read enough fic to know how to answer this? But I guess I wouldn’t like it if they were really, genuinely trying to harm each other. They fight but I don’t think they have any desire to do damage.

Things I look for in fanfic: Let Ned process his guilt related to their time together rather than projecting it onto Boyd like he does in the narrative please and thank you.

My wishlist: Just…please find a way to let Ned say goodbye to Boyd for real and process his feelings about him? It kills me that Ned’s supposed last interaction with him was actually with the abomination.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Again, if Victoria were still around, I’d go with her and Ned, since I thought they were really sweet together and really seemed to care for each other.

My happily ever after for them: Canon becomes irrelevant and the two of them make up and there are antics as Actual Active Criminal Boyd has to try to adjust to a civilian life free of stealing with the help of his annoyed husband.

BLESS YOU.