#The twins should get to be geniuses

[greenninjagal-blog]

Dead Men Break No Codes pt1

I've been playing too many escape rooms recently. Fic be upon ye :D

Summary: Rookie Fbi agent, Roman is a certified genius who's time to shine is right now, while a serial killer's taken up taunting the police with puzzles leading them to the bodies of their victims! Someone should probably warn him about being so good at his job.

Word Count: 12020

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybinaa @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Chapter One: Odd Man Out

The letter found at the latest crime scene isn’t directly addressed to Roman but based on the entire crime scene team’s reaction, it might as well have been.

Roman had barely held onto the card for more than a few minutes, just enough that he could gage the type of paper, the ink color, the number of pages, the smell—all the nitty gritty details that might help them solve the riddles before someone else died—before he sent it off to the labs for further testing. Roman’s notes along with photos of each of the three pages of the banal opinions were displayed through a projector on the wall of the conference room they were in so everyone could see them, but the longer Roman stared at it all, the more he thought that he might have been going slightly stir crazy.

“I stand by what I said,” Virgil says from the corner where he’s strangling a stress ball to the point of it disintegrating in his hands. “Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby. Who even uses the word “effulgent” anymore?”

“I think murdering people is his hobby,” Roman comments as he scribbles through yet another code breaking attempt that led nowhere and provided nothing but a hatred for the English alphabet.

It’s obvious there's some type of code in it: previous crime scenes and puzzles aside, no one uses the words Verisimilitude and Brummagem without it being intentional, and certainly not the guy who’s killed ten people in the past three weeks. There are underlined words that spell out "your year of creation is key" and bolded words that read out “From Capitals to Rome” and all of it was tied together with a stunning, swooping bit of calligraphy that's left him with a headache after staring at it so long. Perfect punctuation, no extra doodles or dots: the letter itself talks scathingly about modern adaptations of Sherlock Holmes and detectives and what it means to be a genius in a world that doesn’t appreciate geniuses. Roman’s done the math: thirty-three sentences, averaging ten words across all of them, no direct address, but signed off with a cute “Plex”.

Which was short for “Perplex” because their serial killer thought they were clever.

If Roman had come across this guy in any other situation, he might have grown a grudging respect for him. Might have asked him out for drinks, even! Some of the puzzles that they’d come across are downright dazzling and ingenious and challenging and reminded Roman of his childhood so much they were nostalgic. If Roman ignored the code and read the letter as it was, he was left with a strangely twisted form of sick sympathy: he’d been a genius in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and trying to connect with people there had been like trying to squeeze himself into a pair of shoes he’d outgrown when he was four.

He’d been bored by schoolwork, already outpacing the teachers, too curious to wait until the next class to find answers which left him ahead of his peers. There weren’t thrilling enough mystery books in the library and every movie had ended in the most predictable way ever. He’d received the scorn of his own friends when he breezed through assignments that they struggled with at the same rate he’d received their adoration in any sort of academic competition or group project. Reading the letter in front of him, which was, at its core, someone else’s observations when they rang that close to Roman’s own internal laments, left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

What a horrible thing,—Roman thinks throwing his pen across the room to where the trashcan had been at one point and reaching for another— to have found more fucking kindship with a murderer than with the rest of his team.

He’d only been with this FBI team for a few months, and Roman’s ability to deftly stick his foot in his mouth had already put him at odds with most of the people he was supposed to be working with. The habit of thinking far too fast wasn’t a new thing for Roman to be dealing with, but Roman still forgot that not everyone was aware of just how fast he thought until he was blurting out a harmless comment he forgot could be taken as an insult.

His team leader—a man by the name of Logan Ackroyd—had bluntly told Roman that if he couldn’t keep his mouth in line there wouldn’t be a place for him on the team come the next week and Roman almost quit on the spot to avoid having to go through the utter embarrassment of being fired for his inability to play well with others, when he’d gotten multiple recommendations from high profile FBI agents who’d guaranteed Logan that Roman lived up to the rumors.

Logan had told him that he didn’t bother accepting fresh academy graduates usually, but the sheer volume of letters from colleagues had won Roman a chance to prove he was good enough to stay on permanently. And after six months, Roman is still standing with that Damocles sword over his head, with no sign of Logan changing his mind.

Logan’s right hand, Patton Hart, assures him that Logan means well, even if he doesn’t say it in so many (or any) words.

Patton radiates the gentle air of a tired, but well-meaning father although Roman’s never heard of him having any children and sometimes his existence is all that keeps Roman from crying the moment he home. He’s never been afraid to cut Logan off in the middle of a lecture or remind everyone they’re supposed to be fighting the serial killers not each other…as long as he’s paying attention.

Roman’s no stranger to getting caught up in his thoughts, but Patton is exactly like those cats who meow at dark corners when there’s nothing there; his crystal blue eyes soften with a distant gaze, seeing something that no one else can see for so long that once an actual gunfight broke out around them and Patton didn’t notice at all. Each conversation with Patton left Roman feeling as though he was being seen through instead of being looked at, but that was a small price to pay since Patton won’t take his words the wrong way no matter what he says.

In comparison, Virgil Storm is the person that Roman clashes with the most. Roman had been through enough Psych classes to hazard a guess that Virgil takes Roman’s entire existence as a threat to his own position: Roman is younger, prettier, healthier, smarter, and he had come with heralds of recommendation letters from the FBI academy professors. The only thing Virgil has over him is two years of field experiences that never quite seem to be enough for him to feel secure. Thus, every time Roman disagreed with him, Virgil had bitten back like it was a personal attack. Roman had nearly been written up twice because of their arguments when Virgil got to walk away with barely even a glance.

Janus Ekans, the last member of the team, is approachable in the same way that a live grenade was approachable: he’s a press liaison who sweet-talked reporters and consoled victims and made children laugh with funny faces while the adults talked, and then he turned around threatened to cut Roman’s brakes if he hummed another bar of the catchy pop song that was stuck in his head.

((Jokes on him though, the catchy pop song that had been stuck in his head had been the key to the code for the fourth victim.))

Janus’s brand of kindness always came with strings attached, or a manipulative ulterior motive. Roman had learned a healthy dose of skepticism of early morning coffees and a casual offer of finishing a report for him; the result was not worth having to sit through another workplace conduct seminar for Janus.

But for all of the conflicts with them, Roman wants to be part of this team, wants to be part of this mission, wants to know them and be known by them. It’s just… hard. Roman’s used to the feeling of distance between him and other people, compared it idly to a glass wall that he couldn’t figure out how to break, but something about how Janus and Virgil toast shots at the bar after a case, or how Patton always knows what to say to someone, or how Logan always predicts accurately what route an escaping suspect will take—something about how Roman got shot on his last case with them and woke up to find that the rest of his team had been taking turns watching over him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and it made Roman burn with the desire to be better for them.

And well…since Roman hasn’t been any good at the talkingpart of it, he figured that being a stellar coworker might be a better angle to go for.

((Remus laughed so hard at the idea on a call last month while Roman was working through his physical therapy exercises that Roman had hung up on him.))

It’s been….an attempt. Roman hasn’t exactly had the time to focus on it with the current case going on.

The police had called for help after the very first body, which was rare. Logan had explained on the way to the crime scene that there had been a letter sent to the local police that contained a grid of numbers and a warning that someone would get hurt if the police didn’t solve it in twenty-four hours. An identical copy had appeared at the crime scene, which had linked the two events together in a way that local police didn’t get paid enough for.

Logan had told Roman to focus on photographing details of the scene, but Roman had frozen the moment that his viewfinder had focused on the note, his mind recognizing the pattern from the billions he’d created in middle school.

Roman and Virgil had both spoken the same address at the same time: Roman because he had solved the cipher in the letter after reading it the first time, and Virgil because he’d pulled a long piece of paper with the address written on it out of the victims strangled throat with a pair of tweezers.

The address had ended up being an empty building with a “For Lease” sign in the window a few blocks away, and their arrival had revealed nothing except for another puzzle with a pinned note asking if they were going to actually try this time.

Roman had solved the next one, before Janus had even finished reading it and they had arrived at the next location before the next kidnapped victim had even been aware she’d been kidnapped, dazed and drugged and barely able to tell them her name. The murderer hadn’t been there, and Logan had ordered an evacuation with a posted discrete perimeter, with the hope that they could catch the murderer when they returned to kill their victim, but all ten officers hadn’t reported seeing anyone.

Instead, three days after that, the next letter had been delivered to the precinct via mailman who had no clue where the envelope had come from and hadn’t thought too much of it before making his next delivery. The killer seemed to have taken Roman’s quick solving as an offense or a challenge considering each of the puzzles had gotten harder and harder with the deadlines steady as ever. Roman had run up the clock trying to solve them fast enough to get his team to the scene before the victims were too injured to be saved, forget getting them in time to catch the perpetrator. The last woman had coded in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from her sustained injuries and still they hadn’t gotten any more of an idea who this killer was.

Brown hair, blond hair, long and groomed, a buzz cut, bearded, scarred, mole, green eyes, brown eyes, black eyes—every person that Roman managed to save had a different, conflicting description to offer. Every abduction had happened conveniently on corners were there weren’t cameras and none of the victims seemed to have anything in common: they were mostly young women with two cases of being young men, of various ethnicities and social classes, from all seven nearby counties. Had a gun, had a bat, didn’t see anything before the attack, was drugged, was knocked unconscious—even the corpses that they had recovered didn’t have any more information: there was no sign of fighting back, and every method of death was arbitrarily chosen as if the killer was spinning a wheel to decide how the next victim was going to go out.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus’s working profile was: “knows the area well”, “knows the police and FBI really well”, “easily overlooked”, and “desperate to prove they’re smarter than everyone else”.

Any event hosting riddles, puzzles, or trivia had received a visit from the FBI, but most had never seen anyone sweep the games as outrageously as the profile suggested nor had they had any unhappy customers that had caused a scene as much as a disgruntled, embarrassed genius like this would have. The narrow list of names all had accountable alibis and the team had been shoved back to square one until the next puzzle had appeared.

((They shared a music type, and a fondness for certain poets. Roman wouldn’t have solved half of the puzzles as fast if he hadn’t dabbled into the same extracurriculars of photography and art appreciation. He’d babbled to Virgil about the history of jigsaw puzzles when he put together a fifty-piece puzzle with nineteen pieces missing just so he could use the picture to identify the wharf area where they would find the next victim.))

It had felt like, at first, Roman had been assigned a task that would help, something that he excelled at that would do something to alleviate the stress of the situation and help people. While he’d gone through the programs and passed his tests with flying colors, Roman is still the youngest on the FBI team and his experience with catching serial killers is a laughable compared to the others—but after the third puzzle where Roman’s bizarre wealth of knowledge and prompt, problem-solving processes came in clutch, Logan had assigned the puzzles as Roman’s main task and refocused Janus, Patton, and Virgil on profiling the killer and victims and the area.

Roman thinks there’s a bit more to it as well, but Logan hadn’t deigned to share it with him and Roman just can’t afford to devote any of his brain to things other than finding codes at this point.

He hadn’t actually been back to his apartment in a week. He’d slept in this very room with blankets Virgil had dragged from his car, eaten take-out food grabbed by Patton, forced to shower by Janus with his bag of emergency toiletries until Logan had made the trip to Roman’s to pick up new clothes for his extended stay.

Roman was certain there were rules against all of this, policies and whatnot for the amount of overtime he was pulling and the clearly unhealthy sleep schedule and eating regime, but every time he closed his eyes, he remembered that first crime scene and the bulge of paper being delicately pulled from the strangled throat of a dead woman who deserved better and—

Even if it means his bed is gathering dust, even if he can’t remember what he last watched on TV, even if it means that he’ll been able to charge rent to the new life forms growing out of his fridge when this is over. He’d give up everything just to make sure that no other victims died without hope of being saved. All nine of the people he hadn’t gotten to save in time deserved at least to have their killer stopped.

That being said, the only member of his team keeping pace with his puzzle solving work still is Logan: Patton had run to the lab to check on the results of fingerprints (there hadn’t been any on the letters before, but Patton is an optimist at heart); Janus went to talk to one of the victims family after a call stating they thought they remembered something from the night before the victim went missing, and Virgil had tried his hardest for the first three hours before Roman had to break it to him for the nth time that Roman had already tried the codebreaking technique he was suggesting. He’s nearly jittery with the eager to have something to punch by now.

Logan is sitting primly in the seat across from Roman, his dark eyes tracing the calligraphy of the words looking for patterns that Roman hasn’t already tracked down and tried.

The digital clock at the head of the table is steadily counting down, and every time Roman blinks he sees the bloodied crime scene again: the lifeless eyes, the clinically broken bones, the bruises and the gashes and he thinks of the new missing girl who might be suffering the same fate if Roman doesn’t figure this out.

"There's thicker ink on the word Capital," Logan says, drawing Roman’s attention back to the first page of the letter. Roman had noted it briefly on his fourth review, even written down a list of capitals in the states and used the date of their establishments, their "year of creation" to identify words in the letter but nothing had come of it. Roman had moved off from it hours ago hoping that something else in the letter would circle back to it with more directions on what it meant.

"Let’s return to the concept that it refers to the capital letters," Logan says.

"Which spell out nothing, forward or backward or anagrammed," Virgil says from his chair in the corner towards the back of the room where he’d insisted he was sitting to get a better look at the “whole picture.”

"And we tried all possible Caesar shifts?” Logan says.

"I’ve run them through every Caesar shift 1 through 26. Then I tried the established years of all capitals in the States." Roman says combing through his papers to find his work. "It came up with nothing. So, I tossed them through a Trimethius Tableau, which also got me nothing, so then I tried the Trimethius Tableau with a key word, and uhm…”

Roman trails off as he scrambles through the stack of papers next to him and then gives up and offers the entire stack to Logan.

“You tried it with the word Capital?” Logan says.

“I tried it with every word that appears in the letter,” Roman says. “I didn’t bother writing down half of them so please don’t ask for proof. When that didn’t work, I tried all the Capitals from the entire world and then I tried the missing woman’s name first and last, the killers self-proclaimed name, and the spelled-out number of all our individual ages including the victim’s and the age range that the profile suggests for the killer and Sherlock Holmes. Nothing.”

Logan accepts the papers to analyze it himself or double check the numbers and letters, which Roman would find offensive if he had the energy to feel anything other than dread and defeat. Theres a girl’s life on the line and Roman’s matched wits with a piece of paper and failed at the only thing he’s been good at recently. The clock hits hour twenty-two on the killer’s timetable and Roman feels a burn in his eyes as he rubs them so hard he witnesses undiscovered colors on the back of his eyelids.

“Patton just texted,” Virgil said, waving his phone. “The ink is Speedball India Ink which you can get at any art supply but it’s for those fancy calligraphy pens. The techs think the nib was a… Bruase Steno, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Beginner’s nib,” Roman says, tiredly. “It holds a lot of ink in it, pretty sturdy, and good for downstrokes. Allows for a bigger font size than some others.”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly. “He also says the paper from one of those Canson Mix Media sketchbooks you can buy at basically any retail store. I doubt by now that has any bearing on anything, but I figured I pass it along.”

Logan and Roman both nod to show they heard it. Roman predicted as much in his notes, although he’d been more of the idea the nib was a Nikko G based on the size of the font. It’s been a while since he had the time to work on his calligraphy, since Remus “borrowed” his pen set last year.

“I checked for a Rail Fence and a Playfair," Roman says. “Tried both Horizontal and Vertical Two-Squares.”

“I mapped out all of the ‘I’s in the letter to see if they spelled out something in dot-only morse code,” Virgil says.

“Did they?” Logan asks with the tone of a very tired parent.

“No, but you’re welcome that I at least tried it.”

Roman tunes out Logan’s responding sigh-and-lecture bit. There’s a girl missing probably already fighting for her life against injuries that had killed ten others before. Roman could be the only spot of hope for her, and he’s staring at the word ‘Mélange’, wondering if “year of creation” refers to the year that the word first came to use.

Janus had sniffed distastefully at the letter when he’d first read it, claiming that the murderer’s vocabulary was just another attempt to show them that he was smarter than all of them. Janus, who’d studied language profiling and had two papers published on the topic, had begrudgingly affirmed that all the words were being used in a sensible way.

Roman twirls his pen between his fingers reading over his notes again.

He’d been so sure on his second read of the letter that Sherlock Holmes was going to be part of the answer. “Your year of creation” had sounded so much like a bid for the year of publication, which had meant he only needed to figure out what media form it was based on. “From Capitals to Rome” hadn’t spurred anything exciting in his memory: he didn’t recall any of Author Canon Doyle’s original writings putting Holmes in Rome, although he’d jolted down a few books he knew of by other authors, and none of the TV show or movies had been filmed in the iconic city.

If it meant the distance between a capital and Rome, well, London was the only place that Roman was confident in writing down, but 1873km didn’t even match up with any other years and certainly nothing further in the letter that would give an address.

But then Rome could refer to a Caesar Cipher, like Logan had said. Which had inspired a whole other rabbit hole of possibilities and Roman had fallen down it with much less fun than Alice.

Why use words that no one else does conversationally? Roman, as a certified genius, already struggles with having those around him keep up with a conversation so throwing in uncommon words was a waste of breath or, in this case, paper. So why is their killer risking the message of the letter not being understood? Is it really just to prove that this mystery killer was smarter than them? Or is the meaning of the letter as of little value to the killer as the lives of the victims they were snuffing out?

Roman had studied killers with a superiority complex. Most of them could have continued killing for decades and never been caught if they hadn’t felt compelled to have others be aware of how much smarter they were.

But then Roman stares at this letter talking about Sherlock Holmes and he doesn’t see someone who was overconfident and riding the high of the chase. They’re creative and clever enough that each of his letters are multitasking: sharing (supposedly inconsequential) knowledge about himself as well as acting as a code to lead them to where the missing girl is. But Roman’s decently sure that Logan’s already figured that one out. After all, how much help is the fact that the killer likes Sherlock Holmes going to be in finding out their real identity?

It isn’t Roman’s task to profile the serial killer. It’s not his problem and it shouldn’t be his worry and Roman doesn’t have the time to focus on the undertone of loneliness and isolation when there’s a girl’s life on the line.

“I see things here are going admirably,” Janus says as he flounces into the room. He’s dressed in black dress pants and a pale-yellow button down that looks tasteful and elegant. His usual grace accompanies his movements as he drops into a vacant chair and helps himself to a coffee cup that someone left on the table hours ago. He has a ring on his fourth finger, although he’d confessed in a drunken stupor after their first case that he’d never even kissed a prospective partner. ((And then the following day Janus had cornered Roman in the station bathroom and told him that if he told anyone about that Roman’s body would never be recovered, but whatever. Drama Queen.))

“Have you cracked the code yet? Solved all our problems?” Janus asks.

“Oh, yes,” Virgil answers him. “We were waiting for you to get back in order to figure out world hunger, though.”

“Eat the Rich,” the man wearing a $900 suit says without a trace of hesitation.

“Did the victim’s sister give you anything?” Logan asks, pushing away Roman’s stack of failed attempts.

Janus clicks his tongue. “I’m going to assume you remember that the sister told us previously that she’d been communicating to her sister via SnapChat the night she disappeared. She said that she saw someone in the background of the pictures that she didn’t think too much of it at the time, but now she’s wondering if it was our killer stalking his victim through the store. I made a pit stop to the grocery store and took another look through their footage, and found the person in question—black hoodie, black face mask—but it was just another shopper. According to timestamps, he checked out before our victim and went straight to his car and left.”

“Presumably to go home,” Virgil extrapolates, extremely helpfully.

“And we suspect that the killer grabbed her before she got to her car,” Logan hums affirmatively. Which Roman guessed was about as close as he got to announcing his approval.

Janus picks up one of Roman’s papers and scans it with faked interest. “So? How is Encyclopedia Brown doing? Has he come up for air in the past hour?”

“Do you even know what an encyclopedia is?” Roman asks, distractedly.

“Of course,” Janus says. “I found reading them to be quite riveting in my childhood. Didn’t you?”

“I was more of a phonebook, yellow pages type of kid,” Roman says.

“What’s a phone book?” Virgil cuts in.

“It’s a phone directory with the phone numbers of everyone in a certain area. The yellow pages were reserved for businesses, listed by category rather than alphabetical. Why don’t you know that?” Logan says. Then he frowned and turned back to Roman. “Why were you reading those as a child?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, old man.”

"I turned 49 this year, Roman," Logan says blandly.

Roman had a really good response to that, he did. Something snippety about how Logan acted like a professor double his age, or asking how his birthday party of birdwatchers went, or if he's picked out an adult day care he wants to be sent to once he reaches the big five-oh. Just for the sick pleasure of seeing Logan physically leave the room to go print out the official papers to fire Roman on the spot.

"What’s going on at 15 Maple Street?"

Virgil startles like a cat, nearly flipping out of his chair at the voice right behind him.

Remus—dressed in a biker jacket, spiked boots, and gunmetal piercings—grins with all his teeth unflinching even when Virgil’s fist brushes by his cheek in an aborted attempt at throat-punching Roman's twin brother.

“Is it some kind of orgy? Y’all gonna invite me?” he asks, raising a Slurpee cup to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Who the fuck?!” Virgil says, snapping his neck to look at Roman as if he thought Roman had gotten up put on a fake mustache and then tried to jump scare him. “Wh-wha…?”

When they were younger, Roman had described Remus as his funhouse mirror reflection: they shared the same nose, the same face structure, the same dark brown eyes and the same untamable brown hair; but where their appearances had been identical inverses of each other—Remus’s cowlick rolled to the left and Roman’s went to the right—their personalities had a drastic split. Remus is also a certified genius, same as Roman, but where Roman had gotten banned from the local escape rooms for solving them in under five minutes, Remus had gotten banned from them for brute forcing answers until something clicked.

If Remus had to break something to get the answer, he was having fun. Replay-ability was never a thought in his mind growing up and turned their childhood home’s game closet into a graveyard. He talked faster than he thought, often blurting out answers or questions or impulsive thoughts before someone else had finished talking.

Nine-year-old Roman had loathed most of these things about Remus, but it had only taken a year for Roman to realize that in their small town, Remus was the only one who could possibly keep up with his wits. Remus had been the one to tell him to take up the codebreaking classes hosted by an ex-FBI agent who had ended up being so impressed with Roman that the man had sponsored him through all his subsequent courses and written him three recommendation letters personally to Logan to get him his current job.

The job had taken Roman nine states away, but Remus and him had kept near weekly calls where Remus offered him feedback on Roman’s newest attempt at writing a novel, and Roman play tested the clues for puzzles in Remus’s escape room games.

Near weekly had turned into a stretch of silence though, when cases came up. Remus had just told him to call him whenever the cases were over instead of stressing over finding time to talk. His schedule was always more flexible.

But it shouldn’t have been flexible enough for Remus to be standing in the FBI headquarters.

“Remus,” Roman says, standing before Virgil decides to enact his shapeshifting alien emergency plan. “What are you doing here?”

“Learn to pick up your phone sometime, asshole,” Remus says, flicking his neon yellow visitor badge to the left of Virgil’s body for everyone to see. “If I had known that you were going to leave me at an airport for three fucking hours, I would have just canceled my flight and spent my vacation mapping out the sewers back home.”

“Vacation?” Roman repeats. “OH FUCK! What day is it?!”

Roman dives for his phone, only realizing when he frantically taps the screen that it’s dead and probably has been dead for a while. Remus rolls his eyes flicking a lazy salute at Logan and Janus and welcoming himself into the room.

“Name’s Remus,” Remus says, “I’m this dipshit’s twin brother. Currently single, but I charge five for a hand job if you want one.”

“Charming,” Janus says, running a finger around the rim off his coffee cup.

“You mentioned Maple Street.” Logan says. “Ignoring that you are not supposed to be in here and this is confidential work, where did you come up with that?”

"I mean, I assumed it’s a Maple Street," Remus says. "Every state has a Maple Street, right? I stopped doing the conversion at the P."

“Elaborate.”

“Buy me dinner first, Daddy,” Remus says and Janus chokes on his coffee so hard it almost comes out of his nose and Roman can feel his employee termination paperwork being drafted up mentally in Logan’s mind.

Still Remus shrugs, waves a hand towards the projector, and obliges. “The letter is about Sherlock Holmes, right? Its pretentious as all shit so the writer is only going to care about the original Arthor Canon Doyle characterizations. “The year of your creation” is a snob’s way of saying publishing date. So, you’re looking for a Sherlock Holmes book and you’re going to care about the year it originally came out. Still with me? I can walk you back if you got lost, old timer.”

“Remus,” Roman says, which sounds remarkably like please shut up before you get me fired.

“Damn, you got boring in FBI school. Fine. You care about ciphers, right? There’s only four from the original books that actually appear, even though Holmes is said to be a gifted codebreaker. This ain’t the Dancing Man code, and it’s not the flashing lights from Red Circle. Your other two options are The Book Code from Valley of Fear in which you’d be fucked six ways to Saturday with an unlubed corkscrew and not in a way that you’d enjoy or—”

Virgil makes a sharp disgusted noise form the back of the room, and Remus grins with satisfaction at getting a reaction out of him. He tilts his head back to look the agents, mouth open to make things as bad as he can.

“Wait! Gloria Scott,” Roman says catching on to what he did. “Fuck! You’re right! It’s Gloria Scott. But not whole words. Did you go by letters?”

Remus tsks and swirls his drink. “You’re a genius, Ro. You tell me.”

“That’s why it says to go ‘From the Capitals!’”

“Tell me you didn’t think it meant actual capitals. Did you list them all out? I’m disowning you.”

“Get bent,” Roman says on instinct as he scribbles out the letters of importance.

“Get laid.”

“I have. Jealous? And then a Caesar with 1-8-9-3?”

“Did you know that off the top of your head? Fucking nerd.”

“That’s an E, V, I—”

“It’s faster to start it from the end,” Remus sings.

“Did they screw up on the eighth sentence or am I doing math wrong?”

“I told you go from the end.”

“I don’t like going backwards!”

“It’s already backwards, bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Geek. You used to be good at this. Why is it taking you so long?”

“Shut up. Did you get Mom gaudy heels she wanted for her birthday?”

“The ones with the cat faces on them? Fuck no! I got her a candle like I do every year.”

“Son of the year award.”

“They were over a hundred fucking dollars! —That’s an F, dumbass, not a G.— And I can gift her a whole litter of cats for that amount!”

“Agreed. I’ll get the accessories; you get the cats?”

“Deal. I want naming rights.”

“PG-13 rated at the max. Mom will kill us otherwise. So, it was a mistake on the eighth sentence.”

“Yeah! A goddamn embarrassment. This is already a cringe ass attempt to seem good at encoding—”

A humming uhhhh? cuts through the rest of Remus’s statement and Roman is relieved to see Remus also does a mental reset as he remembers where they are. Namely, standing in the conference room in the FBI headquarters shooting comments back and forth at each other in front of Roman’s team.

Virgil is staring at both of them, head on a swivel that leaves him looking hopelessly horrified, as if he just watched them give birth. The last time Roman saw Virgil look so nauseated, he’d gotten a major concussion after being jumped by three gang members in the back of warehouse they had thought a bioterrorist was renting.

There had been a bubbling excitement in Roman’s chest that felt right in the way that all his conversations with Remus always feel so right. He didn’t have to slow down or reword or even watch his wording because it was Remus and Remus always knew exactly how to take anything Roman said. Twin Telepathy and all that.

But the moment he sees the utter bafflement on Logan and Janus’s faces that part of him shrivels up and dies, an embarrassed, awful death.

Virgil, however, finds his voice before Roman can apologize. “Hardy Boys! Wanna explain that in English? Where are you getting Maple Street from?”

“Fifteen Maple Street,” Roman corrects. “Come to Fifteen Maple Street, Detective.”

“Do-tective,” Remus says. “I’ve met kids with better spelling!”

Roman doesn’t outright elbow him in the side but it’s a close thing. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I know where that is. Its two blocks from my—”

“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off sharply and Roman blinks. Remus frowns and takes another sip of his Slurpee, until the resulting slorpppp nearly drowns out Roman’s response if Roman hadn’t reached out and snapped it out of his hand.

“Yeah,” Roman says. “Published in 1893. It’s the short story where Holmes claims to have first realized that his deduction hobby could be used professionally. The code in it—spoilers—is that every third word is taken and spells out its own sentence. But in this case ‘From Capitals’ is referring to the third word of the sentence instead of every third word. Then if you take the first letter of each of the word and put it in a Caesar shift, with the first one being a one-shift, the second letter being an eight-shift, then nine-shift, then three, then back to one….”

Roman holds up the paper where he wrote down the final product. “And then you read it backwards.”

The Conference room is slightly too quiet for Roman’s taste, but his hands are shaking with nerves he didn’t know he had. The clock in the corner still reads an hour and thirty minutes and Roman feels like he’s taken his first actual breath for the first time in years.

"Did you do that in your head?" Logan says, looking at Remus. "As you walked in here?"

“Well, not really,” Remus says, casually swinging his badge around one of his fingers. “I’m not wearing my glasses, so I didn’t see it until I got halfway across the floor. And I had to look up the year of publish for it because I’m not the type of freak who knows years like that.”

Roman flips him the bird under the table where Logan won’t see it.

"Holy shit,” Virgil says. “You both are fucking insane. Actually, fucking insane. How did you even think to do that?”

Remus laughs. "That’s just a party trick. We used more advanced ciphers when selling test answers in seventh grade."

"There was no "we" in that!" Roman says quickly. "I was not involved in that!"

Remus glances at the papers next to Virgil raising an eyebrow at the penmanship. "Did you try to map out the dots over the I's like it’s a dot only morse code? That’s so cute!"

Virgil crumples his paper into a ball and throws it across the room. "Can I punch him for real this time? I’m going to punch him."

Roman doesn’t bother explain that comments like that just fuel Remus on. The bullies in their small town had learned to leave both of them alone, because Remus laughed when they broke his arm. Remus liked the sharp taste of pain and the metallic smell of blood and the way that his vision blurred and blacked out.

Instead, Roman reaches for his jacket. “Come on. There’s still two hours on the clock. We can beat rush out traffic and make it there in ten minutes!”

“No,” Logan says and Roman mentally stumbles over a chair and then down a flight of stairs. “I want you to stay here. If for some reason this location ends up being wrong, I want you and your brother both to be here already looking for another answer. Do not argue with me on this.”

Roman’s voice dies a little in his throat, shriveling up and itching like a cough that he doesn’t want to admit to having. Logan doesn’t even grace him with an actual full glance, as if Roman’s compliance is expected just as much as his acceptance. Janus and Virgil share a look that Roman can’t quite read, although from the pursing of Virgil’s lips something about Logan’s decision doesn’t sit right with him.

Janus, however, looks relieved before he can school his features into a neutral expression.

“I’m certain this is the location,” Roman says tentatively. “Sir.”

“I do not like placing all of my figurative eggs in one figurative basket,” Logan says, already halfway out the door. “Safety is my priority. Virgil, Janus: with me.”

Both of the other two agents scramble after Logan; Virgil not even bothering to put his jacket back on as he bolts out the door and Janus clicking his tongue in that way that speaks of his loathing for being told what to do.

Roman drops his coat back on the chair and flops back down. Remus frowns at the doors for a second longer, but Roman can’t imagine what he’s thinking—or if it’s anything different from what Roman himself has already thought about this FBI gig.

Roman can appreciate how Logan is looking at the bigger picture, covering all his bases, leaving little room for the killer to add to their kill count, but at the end of the day those words still sound a lot more like “You’re still not good enough, Roman, and I’m still considering if you deserve a place with this team.”

***

“You’re seriously still not going to tell him?” Virgil hisses as soon as the elevator doors close. “He deserves to know at this point! We’re seven incidents into this!”

“There’s actually only been six that can’t simple coincidence,” Janus corrects, even though that is not the fucking point that Virgil meant and he knows it. Six is still Six-Too-Fucking-Many and the fact that Janus is even making the argument has Virgil’s skin crawling. He meets Virgil’s eyes in the reflection of the stainless-steel elevator wall and Virgil sneers at him while Janus raises an elegant middle finger.

Logan, although he must have seen it, doesn’t bother to reprimand either of them. He stares at the ticking digital screen detailing the floors as they race towards the garage and keeps his face in a stern neutral expression. Virgil isn’t trained in micro expressions, so the fact that he notices the crease in the corner of Logan’s lip is probably very telling for how stressed he is about all of this.

“Call Patton. I want him to meet us at the location with whatever police he has contact with. No sirens. If this killer is there, I don’t want to alert him anymore than we already have.”

“You’re changing the topic,” Virgil says. “Sir.”

“Agent Storm. As of right now, his best use is solving the puzzles where we can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t need to know; it will only cause him to panic, and we cannot afford that at this stage. He’s too… instrumental.”

Instrumental. Virgil almost laughs at Logan’s fucking audacity. Instrumental.

“Are you going to tell his brother?” Janus says, boredly, scrolling through his phone for Patton’s number. “Twin brother. Did anyone know he was a twin? I didn’t and I believe I’m offended.”

Virgil did know. Although knowing is an entirely different beast from seeing Roman’s face with a mustache and his body with a grunge aesthetic and his voice with a proficiency for the absolute worse strings of words in the human language. He almost looked like Roman-in-a-Halloween-Costume, expect for the part where he opened his mouth. But the worst part of it was how when Remus and Roman had been standing next to each other shooting back and forth completely at ease, Virgil had felt as though he was seeing doubles and neither version of his friend was the right one.

Something about Roman so easily relaxed into the conversation, a lightness to his words, a brightness to his eyes—something about how Roman looked comfortable as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders when his twin had shown up….

It threw him off and Virgil doesn’t think he’s found his balance again yet. And the whole “Unspoken Agreement” was not helping matters at-fucking-all.

“I want a background check on him, emphasis on his whereabouts in the past three weeks. If he’s not involved, then I’ll consider reading him in. Although, there’s a high probability he already suspects it,” Logan says. “You were not subtle about cutting Roman off at all.”

Janus feigns an offended scoff, as he puts his phone to his ear and the line starts ringing. “I didn’t see you saying anything.”

Virgil digs his nails into the strap of his bag. “If Roman were a civilian, you wouldn’t be treating him like this. You know you wouldn’t. You would have read him in and—”

“Virgil,” Logan says sharply.

“How long are you going to keep punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault?!”

Logan’s hand snaps out and he knocks the safety switch into activation. The elevator jerks to a stop so suddenly that Janus fumbles his phone, and Virgil has to grab the railing to keep himself steady. When he looks up again Logan’s eyes are trained on him with a fury that Virgil’s never seen before.

Still, he forces himself to raise his chin in defiance, meeting that gaze head on even with his brain shrieking at him to backdown.

“Do not accuse me of confusing the safety of my agents for a petty grudge,” Logan says. “I will have your badge, Virgil. My reluctance to tell him comes from the need to have our smartest agent focused on these deranged puzzles instead of whether or not the rest of us are capable of doing out jobs, not from my irritation over being blackmailed into taking him onto my team. He will do his job, and you will do yours and when this is over, I will personally debrief him. Am I clear?”

Virgil’s jaw creaks from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw, but he nods.

For a second, barely a blink, Logan’s expression softens again. “Thank you, Virgil, for being concerned about him. I know you don’t appreciate withholding information from your teammates.”

It’s hard to feel like he’s doing anything good when they all saw how Roman’s face dropped earlier. Logan turns back to the doors and flips the safety switch again, allowing the elevator to continue its descent. Virgil lets out the quietest breath he can manage, but based on Janus’s uneasy glance back at him, it wasn’t quiet enough.

“Well! I guess that means that Roman solved the letter!” Patton’s voice chirps from the phone in Janus’s hand.

“Yes,” Logan says loud enough for Patton to hear him. “Janus will fill you in.”

“Aye-Aye Captain!”

The elevator dings and the mechanical voice reads out the basement floor, but Logan doesn’t wait for it to finish speaking. He’s already shoving his way out of the elevator to the BMW registered to their team, with all the confidence and authority of someone who would leave them both behind if Virgil and Janus didn’t rush after him.

Virgil turns to Janus, but Janus is greeting Patton with his particular brand of waspish backhanded compliments that Patton likes to laugh at. He pretends he doesn’t see Virgil’s look at all, stubbornly facing forward marching after Logan. His voice bounces off the underground parking lot concrete, updating their other senior agent on the details and plan and the request for a background check as if Virgil’s very real concerns about Roman was just another instance of him blowing the situation out of proportion. Virgil lets out a shaky breath as the elevator doors roll close behind him.

“He can handle it. He’s Roman. Of course, he can handle it,” he repeats as a mantra and hitches his bag over his shoulder.

Despite that, Virgil sends a soft, silent prayer to whatever might be out there watching, that they aren’t running into as much of a trap as it feels like they are.

***

When the call comes Roman nearly lunges across the table to accept it.

Remus is, per usual, a very interesting and ambitious conversation partner: he does not and has not ever required an actual person to respond to him. Roman tested it once when they were younger and he wanted to have a whole ten minutes of silence—put a hoodie over a pile of clothes while Remus is speed running a video game, gradually stop answering with more than a few hums, and then dip out. It had been hours later when Remus woke him by jumping on his bed in revenge.

That’s not to say that Roman isn’t thrilled to talk with him! But Roman is the type of person who would rather catch up with his brother’s endless thrilling tales of research and experimentation in the comfort of his own home, take out on the coffee table and a stream of true crime YouTube episodes on his TV in the background. Roman had been excited to ask him about where he’d gotten his inspirations for his 1920’s speakeasy parlor escape room because Remus had never really dipped into history themes when he could have haunted houses and murder movies instead.

The oppressive atmosphere in the FBI headquarters, with empty conference room chairs, stacks of papers to recycled, and a projector showing the ramblings of serial killer, paled in comparison to the thought of Roman’s crappy couch and greasy pizza from across town.

And now small part of Roman is worried that maybe they did miss something in the letter. As certain as he is about this, there is a part of him that keeps whispering Logan’s right to hold you back, you failed, you were helpless until Remus showed up—

So, when the call comes, Roman is nearly vaulting the table to answer it via the conference call.

“You would have told me just to shut up!” Remus says with no real heat.

Roman doesn’t bother responding to him. He’s sure that Remus already knows what Roman was thinking anyway; it wasn’t like Remus was a fan of a conference rooms after the amount of time he spent in them with Mom and Dad on either side of him as his teachers tried to explain that just because Remus was bored out of his mind in their classes, it didn’t mean he had the right to start dismantling desks or doodling on the walls with sharpies or designing paper airplanes with precision that most aviators couldn’t claim.

“Roman Sanders, speaking,” Roman says, as soon as he hits the answer button. “Remus is in the room.”

“Are you or your brother familiar with one Andy Clupeidae?” Logan’s voice says.

“Uh,” Roman glances towards Remus but he also just shrugs chewing on his straw. “Not that I’m aware of, sir. Would you like me to start a background search on them?”

“Not necessary, I already have Janus on it.”

“Weird ass fucking last name,” Remus comments. “I would have remembered it. What’s their deal? Or are you on Tinder? If he’s got a picture of him holding a fish up, you can guarantee that he’s been lying about length sizes for a whi—”

“It’s the name of a man that we just apprehended in the middle of strangling the victim,” Logan says, dry tone scathing even through the phone speaker. Remus has the rare decency to cringe slightly. “I trust that you can keep that information to yourself, Remus.”

“We got him?” Roman says, hope swelling in his chest like a balloon throttling his voice box. “Like—we actually caught him? Red handed and everything?!”

“We have a suspect in custody,” Logan says. “There are…a few things that don’t settle correctly into the profile. But when we arrived, he was already inside the building, hands on the throat of the victim, and he had in his possession a letter that contains what appears to be the next puzzle for you to solve. The victim is already on the way to the hospital with Janus on standby for when she regains lucidity. Patton will be taking the letter to the labs, and while Virgil and I get ready for the interrogation.”

Roman swears the air tastes ridiculously sweet, too sweet, in a way that’s making it hard to breathe. Remus is staring at him worriedly, but all Roman can think is we did it, we got him, we stopped him.

“There are still several things that need to happen before we can declare this case closed,” Logan warns. “I’ll see you both in half an hour.”

Roman nods although Logan definitely can’t see him. He’d probably be embarrassed if Logan could see him and his stupid dopey grin.

“And Roman? Remus? …you both did a good job.”

Roman doesn’t even hear the telltale click of the call ending. He’s too busy covering his mouth and trying not to scream at the top of his lung. Pure relief washes through him, rushing through his trembling fingers and weak knees until he’s nearly lightheaded with elation.

“Are you okay?” Remus asks steadying Roman with a hand on his arm. “Are you going to orgasm right now?”

“Shut up,” Roman says with half the amount of annoyance he means. He gets a grip of a nearby chair to ground himself and takes a deep breath to refocus. The hope in his chest tastes like a victory, like he’s done something great, even though all he’s done is his job.

Remus is still staring at him suspiciously and no amount of Roman’s smile is reassuring him apparently. His eyes are lined with that brand of eyeliner that he’s been using since they were tweens, making his hickory eyes even darker than usual, and more worried than he’s ever been. He makes one suspicious sweeping look around the room, as if checking for someone else despite the fact it’s been just the two of them for a while now, then he leans in to say something.

But before he can get it out, the conference phone rings again.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice calls through the speaker, a little distorted. Roman grimaces at it, tapping his pen on the table a few times.

“Hey, Dark and Stormy,” Roman says, “Heard you caught the guy!”

“Is there anything you don’t know about?” Virgil says blandly.

“Well, I was going to congratulate you, and offer to buy drinks, but if you’re going to be an asshole about it….” Roman says.

Virgil might have responded but there’s a crackling on the line that cuts over whatever thing he’s going to say. Remus fake-gags out of the corner of Roman’s eye.

“Whatever,” Roman says. “Logan called just a minute ago and told me the news.”

“He also says—you’re welcome—to go home—”

“What the fuck type of phone service do you have?” Remus asks. “Dial up? How do you have any type of phone sex with this shit going on?”

“—I’m going to punch him."

Remus grins delightedly. “We’re gonna need to decide a safe word—”

Roman immediately bats the back of his head and Remus yelps, ducking away from the receiver and rubbing the spot that Roman hit with a pout. Roman sends him scowl, and Remus sticks his tongue out and mouths something that looks like its was a joke, dickwad! And Roman returns it with an appropriate middle finger.

“Hardy Boys!” Virgil’s voice says again, and Roman drums his pen on the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry about Remus. Please don’t complain to HR again. I don’t want to be written up for this one—”

Remus shoves Roman out of the way to get closer to the speaker again. “Who cares about that! Did Lead Agent DILF actually say it’s cool if Roman and I cut out of here? Cause if so, go ahead and tell him to approve Roman for a week vacation, too, because if you don’t, you’ll have to file for kidnapping. I have a list of places I’m going to make Roman take me to and it requires a minimum of three days off.”

“Remus!” Roman says. “You can’t just—"

“Someone needs to get this guy a fucking hobby— you’re welcome—to go home—”

“Alright, bye, Virgin!” Remus shouts and hits the end call button. He throws most of his weight back in the chair, stretching out his spine and arms in a wild chaotic movement that Roman couldn’t help but fondly roll his eyes at. He’s sure that the Virgin comment will come up again, likely in the form of a summons to the HR to talk about workplace harassment, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t Roman who said it, but all in all he can’t really be all that worried about it at the moment.

Roman sighs out, rubbing his aching neck.

“That was weird right?” Roman says. “You thought that was weird, too?”

Remus yawns so loud that his jaw cracks. “Who cares? I want pizza on your dime, and shitty ghost hunter videos on your TV. Your job is boring as fuck! Come on, I’ll drive! You can micronap in the passenger seat.”

“With you at the wheel? No chance,” Roman says, but he fishes his keys from his jacket and tosses them towards Remus anyway. Remus grins with all his teeth, the exact way that everyone would expect someone who frames all of their speeding tickets to smile. Roman yawns and waves for Remus to follow him towards the office desks where Roman’s stuff would be, pausing only long enough to switch off the projector and the clock and the lights.

Admittedly Roman doesn’t remember a lot of what happens after that. The adrenaline crash comes down pretty hard on him and the exhaustion swirls around him, the moment they get to the lobby and Remus chats up the receptionist and returns his visitor’s badge and compliments her hair. Roman focuses more on keeping his duffle over his shoulder and standing upright as this goes on.

He didn’t recall Logan bringing him all that much stuff from his apartment: he’d scribbled out a list of clothes that he liked and tried his best not to cringe too much at the idea of his superior officer seeing his uncleaned apartment.

Even when Remus was coming over, Roman made an effort to take out the trash and have the sheets in his guest room cleaned and fill the pantry with healthier snacks. Roman had put off doing the cleaning for a few days after he and Remus had confirmed the date, but then the case had come up and Roman had literally forgotten what month it was.

But he wasn’t too concerned with Remus making fun of him. The way that Remus was already side eyeing him and chatting away about the details of their hometown and his trip to visit Mom and Dad last weekend was telling Roman that Remus guessed just how tired Roman was at the moment.

The drive is a blur at best. As far as Roman remembers Remus obeyed the laws and parked legally. They argued over music for a few minutes, and then argued over if Remus could have made a light that he stopped for because Roman yelled at him. Then, on the way into Roman’s apartment building their argument turns into which YouTube ghost hunter series to watch while they ate dinner.

“Race ya!” Remus shouts, as he hits the platform for Roman’s level.

“Remus!” Roman hisses, “Wait, Remus!” He slings his bag over his shoulder and rushes the last few steps and catches the door before it closes but by then Remus is already charging down the hall.

“Remus people can hear into the hallway! Remus!”

“You’re just mad because you owe me ice cream now!” Remus calls and then proceeds to knock on Roman’s door several times over as if Roman is going to magically open it from the other side when he’s slowly trudging his way over.

“What was the point of running all the way down here just to have to wait for me to open the door?” Roman huffs. “You have a key anyway!”

“Had a key,” Remus shrugs, pressing as close as physically possible to Roman as he jiggles his key through the lock until it relents. “I don’t anymore!”

 Roman lets Remus push through the door the moment it’s open, rolling his eyes. “Down a sewer grate, off the metro platform, confiscated by the TSA, or forgot it in that dumpster fire you call an apartment?”

“Got knocked overboard on a ferry ride I took a couple months ago! Right along with my house key and my mailbox key. The process to get a new one of both of those was a bitch and a half, by the way. Would not recommend.”

"Wait," Roman says, flicking on the lights to his apartment. It feels a bit like defeat doing it after Remus has made himself at home on the couch with his disgusting shoes up on Roman’s upholstery. But Roman finds himself a bit too tired to care about all the cleaning he has to do. "If you lost the keys to my apartment, what did you do with your bag? I know you didn’t come here empty handed— Please tell me you didn’t pick the locks; I have to pay out of pocket for those repairs."

But even as he says it Roman frowns at the lock. There are signs of tampering: a few scratches on the outside cylinder casing of the deadbolt that are too thick to be from Roman’s own key and exhaustion. But Remus almost sounds surprised by the idea, as if this was the first time, he’d ever thought of breaking into a place he may or may not have half permission to be in and even if it weren’t, Roman’s only mostly whining about the repairs because Remus’s lockpicking skills have been at a master level since they were in middle school.

"I just stood outside your place and hit the buzzers until someone just opened the door,” Remus says stretching out on the couch and cracking his neck with a poppoppop. “And then when I got to your apartment, I just knocked, and your wacko roommate let me in."

Roman laughs sardonically as he closes the door behind himself and tosses his bag at the shoe rack he needs to reorganize later. He’s untying his laces when he realizes that Remus hasn’t congratulated himself on his witty joke and told him the actual truth about how he got in. He glances up at his twin and catches the minimal silhouette of Remus plucking at something from Roman’s mess of a coffee table.

"Remus….I don’t have a roommate."

"Well, she wasn’t your fucking girlfriend, you gay fuck," Remus says. “Hey, what are you doing with one of these? You always said that you hated the way your recorded voice sounds.”

“Huh?”

In response Remus waves whatever it was that he picked up and experimentally clicks a button on the side of it.

“—I’m going to punch him,” Virgil’s unmistakable voice crackles out into the otherwise silent apartment.

Remus’s head snaps to the side looking at the recording in his hand with wild eyes and he scrambles back to his feet. Roman’s heart is pounding in his throat, his blood is rushing in his ears, and a whole lot of things are making sense in a way that Roman really, really did not like them making sense.

“Wha….What did you say that my roommate looked like?” Roman says. “Remus, what did she look like?”

"I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention! I was pissed off that I had to pay for an uber and demanded to know where you were! She said you were at work and that you would be back soon. I tossed my bag in here and nearly knocked over the laundry she was folding…. My bag’s gone. Fuck, that had my favorite jeans in there. And my Switch!”

“Remus,” Roman says, trying to swallow back the panic in his throat.

“She was wearing your sweatpants,” he says. “Motherfucker, she was wearing your sweatpants and eating one of those personal tubs of Cherry Garcia ice cream that only you like while folding laundry... and she smelled like bleach. A lot of bleach.”

The walls of Roman’s apartment suddenly seem to be closing in on them both.

"Out," Roman says, strangled and pleading and reaching for his sidearm. "Out of my apartment! Wait outside and use my phone to call Logan and tell him everything. I’m going to see what else she touched—"

“Your phone’s dead dumbass andI am not going to leave you alone in this apartment where a serial killer might have been hiding out!” Remus says and it sounds remarkably like he’s also panicking. Roman doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Remus panic; Remus had always been a little too excited about his own lack of self-preservation, and there hadn’t ever been a situation that Remus hadn’t been able to handle and Roman decides that right here, right now, is a horrible time for him to learn to be scared.

Roman’s mouth opens to say something brilliant and focused, something that would make the dozens of FBI instructors he had proud of how calm he could be and how rational he could think, something that would convince Remus to listen to him and go outside away from possible dangers, something that would slow the rapidly building tidal wave of fear in his chest.

What comes out is a partial scream as one of the shadows in his apartment lunges at Remus from behind and slams solidly against his skull. Remus’s eyes go wide, then unfocused, and then his entire body drops like a concrete block in a pool.

Roman jolts towards him, but the sight of the person standing there stops him short: a young woman in black leggings and a pink Princess Peach T-shirt that Roman recognizes from his own closet, and Roman’s high school letterman over her shoulders. There’s Ruger LCP in her manicured hand, barrel pointed right down at Remus’s unmoving head, and she wedges her boot heel directly on his back, like a cat showing off the baby bird it’s killed.

Except the baby bird is Remus’s twin brother and Roman might be next.

He can’t think straight, can’t think at all; every time he tries to remember what protocol is for this, his brain takes a detour to how Remus crumpled like a soda can. Roman can’t tear his eyes from the gun at his twin’s head, not even to look at the intruder enough to memorize her features to tell someone if he makes it out of this. Remus is still as stone, as concrete, as a corpse and Roman can’t even tell if he’s still breathing, or if Roman’s already lost the person who’d always had his back in everything.

“I didn’t think you would be so quiet,” the killer says. Her tone is soft and warm and all the things that serial killers shouldn’t be. Oh, is that why all the victims had been younger and smaller? So that she could get control of them easily if they fought back? “Are you just so happy to see me? Surprised?”

"But….Andy Clupeidae," Roman says, voice trembling, his hand hovering over his gun holster, still not close enough to draw before she would get a chance to fire. "Clupeidae…. Fuck, that’s—That’s a family of fish, right? That’s why it sounded familiar.”

“Sardines, shads, and…herrings," the murderer says, wistfully proud of Roman. "The fact that he was wearing red today was just luck. Isn’t that funny?"

Roman chokes on his urge to laugh because it’s not and his wheezing, twisted, cramped lungs are fighting off hysteria. For someone who was a genius, who thought faster than most people could imagine, who passed every test the FBI threw at him with perfection, Roman can’t remember what he’s supposed to do.

He’s not even sure of what he can do.

His phone hesitates in back pocket, long dead, and as far as he knows no one would even think to check on them tonight. Even if he yelled for help, what would his neighbors do? Call the police? Come running to save him? Get murdered by the person in front of him who’s taken ten other lives like it was a game? Even if Roman ran, what would she do? Chase him? Or just kill Remus and make Roman live out the worst version of his life that he can imagine?

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you, Roman,” the killer says, before he can get a handle of any of his thoughts. “Your team is so annoying, don’t you think? Every time I thought I would have gotten to talk to you alone, one of them always appeared….and then that awful man Logan Ackroyd made you stay at your office! I knew if I tried to visit you there, they wouldn’t understand! They would convince you I was wrong just like how everyone has always said I was wrong and bad!

“So, I stayed here, waiting for you the whole time…thinking you would be able to sneak back here and meet me like you’re supposed to! But your terrible team couldn’t even let you do that!”

((“Is the Gloria Scott referring to The Adventures of the Gloria Scott?” Janus cuts him off right before he says where he lives.))

((“No,” Logan said, “I want you to stay here.”))

((The look that Virgil and Janus shared before they left.))

“They knew.” Roman swallows hard. “They fucking knew and didn’t tell me—”

“It’s okay! I know it wasn’t your fault….” She says mistaking his horror for some other emotion Roman doesn’t even think he can fake. “I realized they just needed a reason to let you come home to me! You did so good solving my code! Even after this bitch showed up and started making fun of you and it!” She presses her boot down on Remus’s spine and Roman jerks reflectively forward before he can stop himself.

“Remus wasn’t—he didn’t—!” Roman stutters. “He wasn’t doing it maliciously! He’s just like that! Okay? You don’t have to hurt him!”

His eyes flick up to her face, hoping that maybe if Roman stops looking at him, Remus will shake off the hit to the head the same way he shook off water after Roman shoved him into the pool when they were kids: miraculously unhurt and smug in his movements, you really thought that could get me to shut up? HA!

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to defend him anymore. You’re never going to have to worry about anyone not taking you seriously ever again. I won’t let them, my detective.” She smiles at him, softly, so softly, as if she really believes she’s doing him a kindness.

Roman takes a step backwards, his back bumping against the closed door. The killer crowds forward, humming happily. “I’m so, so happy to finally meet someone just like me, Detective,” she says. “We’re going to be so happy together. Just you wait.”

[Chapter 2]

[d4rkpluto]

ᴛʜᴇ 0° ɪɴ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢʏ - ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴅ

paid chart readings are closing this sunday 23:59 :)

involves my own research along with the help of janduz.

paid chart readings are being closed tomorrow 23:59, keep in mind on sunday there'll be a sale for everything, make sure you get a spot before someone gets yours!

+ includes venus persona chart + feminine archetype readings

follow for more content

THE DEGREE IN THE SIGNS.

THE DEGREE IN THE PLANETS.

THE DEGREE IN THE HOUSES.

♇ the 0° in astrology is about countless possibilities, so much potential and opportunities. it is about everything that exists and everything in everything. boundless potential of someone. something that can be perceived as omnipotent.

♇ the 0° is a critical degree whenever it's associated with a cardinal sign [aries, cancer, libra and capricorn].

THE 0° IN THE SIGNS

♇ 0° in aries - a critical degree. person becomes more independent, assertive and competitive. being someone who can face trials and tribulations. social cues is important for person, can be very self-disciplined or impulsive.

♇ 0° in taurus - other-worldly beauty. great at cooking or baking, and can be very fierce and stubborn. could come off as very bratty and possessive. very stubborn people.

♇ 0° in gemini - the ultimate chatter-box. very intelligent, fast and a quick-thinker and very creative. unlimited ideas, could be a twin. believer of a superior existence. protective over siblings, likely has a good or cordial relationship with them, could have twins.

♇ 0° in cancer - a critical degree. inevitable legacy or will, making a name for yourself. could have large breast. marrying + making a family; could be very traditional and even conservative. having a child is low-key inevitable.

♇ 0° in leo - fame degree. boundless potential to become popular. very generous people and can be very talented. though there could be moments when they are selfish. brilliant hair, could have a God-complex, could be very childish.

♇ 0° in virgo - can be very critical. talented/skilled employee. knows how to research well, which could mean they could be potential stalkers. sociable and knows social etiquette, can be people who think about their physique too much.

♇ 0° in libra - can be very stylish, excellent at make-up, easily likeable, people pleasers, but can be diplomatic. the degree is critical in libra. could find themselves becoming leaders and mediators. very strong beauty, can be problem solvers or very indecisive, and sometime they could be self-righteous and judgemental.

♇ 0° in scorpio - financially and sexually driven people. very secretive, can be mass-worshiped. continuous transformation, could look different a lot. can be combative, very psychic and could be prone to getting into accidents.

♇ 0° in sagittarius - very intelligent people, can be very instigative, could love arguments and debates. others can find them really funny; having great vision of the future and can be a great envisionists, directors, designers and producers. secret family, babies out of wedlock. could become a priest, or be successful in law or mathematics.

♇ 0° in capricorn - great business people, excellent with coming up with new ideas. critical degree in capricorn. respected by those around them, very intelligent individuals, could have a successful business.

♇ 0° in aquarius - geniuses. new ideas every second. can be people with a God-complex, very independent, and have the ability to be famous, influencing others and can gain much wealth.

♇ 0° in pisces - dreamers, and intuitive, psychic and prophetic people. can be very kind and communicative or very shady. can gain success through the arts or in business. should be careful of not falling into delusional episodes.

THE 0° IN PLANETS

♱ 0° in sun - youthful soul, has a very big destiny. can be very authoritarian, or can have people like that in their lives. fame and attention could come to them very quickly.

♱ 0° in moon - very sensitive and secretive. can be naive but empathetic towards life. follows the heard, a good friend, can be very intuitive, creative, especially with music, can attract fame as well.

♱ 0° in mercury - very smart people, skilled hands, chatterbox. very funny. twins in the family, success with marketing. could get good grades easily. psychic and writers, can be combative, guides to other people and mischievous. try not to fall into the habit of stealing.

♱ 0° in venus - true lovers, figuring out style. mediators, success in beauty/fashion related things. can be naive and stubborn, or could have sisters or female relatives like that. meaningful relationships with women, marrying someone who is wealthy/famous, and can get easily irritated.

♱ 0° in mars - unmatched ambition. being people who are competitive, work hard and play hard. being those with strong relationship with men, if underdeveloped could want validation too much. anger issues, playful and dominant and bed. fame within sports.

♱ 0° in jupiter - can mean abundant person, joyful person. easier life, likely to be kind and wealthy or have a spouse who is one. can be flamboyant and anointed. easily gifted and intelligent people, funny and can be easy to talk to. fame can be reached by teaching, publishing, trading or even directing. can be too greedy.

♱ 0° in saturn - their craft and hard-work being respected, much responsibilities. ability to gain wealth, building a foundation, becoming less restrictive; confident with life-path and can be someone who is admired by others. could speak of getting your family out of poverty.

♱ 0° in uranus - ability to do anything. achieving fame online. a popular friend, geniuses and thinking out of the box. can be someone who can be a leader, a rebel, a humanitarian and could like helping communities.

♱ 0° in neptune - can have a huge God-complex, victim complex or martyr complex. could fall into religious and spiritual psychosis. can manifest things really easily, very psychic dreams as well, can become a superstar.

♱ 0° in pluto - transformative people. can be people who are easily influenced, or can become influencers. strong power, head-strong people and have the ability to make much money, excellent at sex.

♱ 0° in north node - people with this can have a huge destiny. the magician, can make anything come true. can have a strong temper and can be very vengeful, much people around them might think they're soulmates with the native.

♱ 0° in black moon lilith - can easily impact other people. very charismatic, turning people against each other; being in their head too much, sex symbol, very sexual and can be into black magic.

THE 0° IN THE HOUSES

♇ 0° in the first house - likely to be popular, have the potential to be famous. these people can have so much charm and charisma. could look different a lot, very handsome faces.

♇ 0° in the second house - money-makers. can mimic really well. excellent cooks or singers. can make a business out of anything. can have a commanding/mature voice. very pretty people.

♇ 0° in the third house - persuasive, can be funny people. can be people who can write really well, can talk a lot and can be people who can read through people, or read people in general. this can imply that someone can be a really good thief, and could know how to guide people.

♇ 0° in the fourth house - money maker, can make a name for themselves. motherly and protective over loved ones, and can be people who are leaders, great designers and beautiful children.

♇ 0° the fifth house - fame! beautiful children and can be people who are very talented. glamorous and flamboyant. this degree can mean talent can be built very easily with them. could have much lovers as well.

♇ 0° in the sixth house - very hard-working people. can easily win against competition. are naturally competitive against other people. very observant and snarky, can be organised and strict about schedule. can easily build a skill.

♇ 0° in the seventh house - easily gets into relationships, likely likeable people, could easily influence others and can be people who know how to others wrapped around their fingers. charmers and flirts, can be low-key critical.

♇ 0° in the eighth house - money-makers, adaptable people. moving in silence, and can get secrets from other people easily. can make a legacy for themselves, and can be people who find it easy to explore their sexuality. great in bed.

♇ 0° in the ninth house - intelligent people, travellers and can be people who guide others. admired, kind and funny, but can be very straight-forward. very inventive people and creative. talented in trading, could have a God-complex.

♇ 0° in the tenth house - critical degree here, only a bit as its the house and not the capricorn sign itself. can become famous, easily liked or respected by other people. having a good connection with a parental figure, or becomes a good parental figure. can be people who are ambitious, goal-oriented for their legacy and dream home, could have a member in their family who is famous.

♇ 0° in the eleventh house - can easily make friends, humanitarians, can find themselves to be a leader of a friendship group. wealthy people. a best friend. popularity online or in their community. having a big audience, they can be trendy and authentic people. another indicator of having a God-complex.

♇ 0° in the twelfth house - very psychic people. fame, humanitarians and empathetic. can be people who are clairvoyant or have a clair. can get intuitive downloads, vivid and lucid dreaming. having much secret admirers or enemies, even stalkers.

masterlist

degree theory masterlist

[traveler-at-heart]

Lessons of love - Part 3

Nerd!Natasha x Rogers!F Reader

Wdym I'm writing fic instead of resting 😅 anyway, I just had to finish this to give my brain a break.

Whatever this is, blegh, enjoy it.

Part 1, Part 2

--

Melina’s study was an amplification of her daughter’s room. It was all neatly displayed, wall to wall covered in books, some in other languages that you were sure she was fluent in. 

There was a laptop on her desk, atop it a pair of reading glasses; a gentle reminder that geniuses are human too.

“It’s not what it looks like” Natasha spoke first. You and Melina scoffed at the same time.

“You two look like a couple. So, am I to understand that it’s incorrect, and you’re going around kissing every girl that crosses your path, Natalia?”

Natasha turned to you, her eyes pleading for help. You crossed your arms.

“No, go on. I’d like to hear what you have to say about this” 

“I… uh…” your girlfriend mumbled and you turned to her mother, finally giving Nat a break. 

“Mrs. Romanoff, I’m terribly sorry for the way you found out. Truth is, I’ve been crazy about Natasha for such a long time, but never really thought I had a chance with someone like her. And then, Fury paired us in Chemistry and things just went from there” you turned to look at Natasha for a moment, smiling. “To be fair, we only made it official on Wednesday”

“Natasha, she’s a keeper” Melina said, blown away by your sincerity. Natasha had to agree. You had a way with words that she admired. “Well, congratulations. I know you’re both responsible girls, but there’s not gonna be late night outings during school days. I can’t obviously speak for your parents, Y/N, but I hope Natasha keeps her excellent grades and you both focus on school”

“I agree, of course” you nodded.

“Now, as for safe sex” 

“What?” you jumped, while Natasha stared at the ceiling. She pleaded in Russian, but her mother dismissed her words. “Mrs. Romanoff, we’re not there yet. At all, so don’t worry”

“I’ve had the talk with Natasha, of course” Melina spoke, and it was as if she didn’t listen to you at all. “I know your father is a surgeon, but if he’s not up for helping you with birth control at some point and you need an adult to accompany you, please know I’ll be happy to come with you. You must be responsible when having intercourse”

“Which hasn’t happened yet, Mama!” Natasha intervened.

“Right” you said, though… to be fair, it had crossed your mind. Especially when your girlfriend was towering over you as she opened the car door… or did anything, really.

You might be the horn dog in this relationship.

“I’m just obligated as a parent to mention it. If you have questions, please come to me” she said, reading your flustered expression. Busted.

“Yes, Mrs. Romanoff” you said.

“Very well! Now, please, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We should go out and celebrate!”

“Yes, of course” you smiled, sensing the hard part was over. Melina clapped excitedly, walking you out of her study. 

“I’m so sorry” Natasha rushed as soon as you were out. You stopped her with a short kiss, smiling against her lips. “Why…?”

“I’m just… happy. That’s all” you said. “It’s ok, baby. Your mom is looking out for you. I don’t mind the talk, or anything else”

“That thing you said… about liking me for a long time. That was just to get her to calm down, right?”

“Oh, Nat” you leaned to kiss her again. “You’re so clueless, my love” 

The girl blushed. She had a hard time deciding which term of endearment made her knees weaker. 

“I have to go, tell my parents and all. Remember we’re going to the movies with the twins, and then dinner with your family, yes?”

“I’ll come with you, we’ll tell your parents together” 

You shook your head no. Natasha was about to protest, when you placed your hand on her chest, letting out a shaky breath.

“I told you, Nat, they’ve been having a hard time with me lately. I’m worried they’ll scare you away”

“They won’t” you gave her a gentle look to remind her how her own mother had made her trip with her words. “Ok, I know. I’m not as good as you when speaking to people. But, whatever they say, it won’t scare me away. If I have to go through a background check or take a test or cure cancer to be with you…”

You cut her off with a kiss that turned frantic as she pulled you closer. 

“Nat?”

“Yeah?” she said against your lips, eyes closed.

“I’ve thought about it… about, you know. That”

“Oh” she looked at you, and you swore her pupils dilated.

“It’s too soon, I’m aware. But… I guess I wanted you to know”

“Ok”

“Ok” you repeated, pecking her lips. “I’ll see you at the movies. Ask Yelena if she wants to come”

“You sure you don’t want a ride home?”

“Yes, darling” you nodded, squeezing her hands. You could use the time to walk and think. “I think I’ll stop by my mom’s gallery. It will be better if she’s the one I talk to first”

Natasha nodded.

“Text me when you’re there? Or if you change your mind. I’ll go pick you up”

“Thank you” you nodded, smiling as she opened the door for you.

“I like it when you call me all those things… baby, love” she confessed on your way out. “Not sure which one I like the most, though”

“Well, then I’ll have to come up with new nicknames to see which one is better. Lucky for you, I’m good with words” 

—

You were hoping to prolong the walk, but in the end, it only took 20 minutes to get to your mother’s gallery. It was a Saturday, which meant Wanda was working until noon. 

“Hey” you greeted your friend at the reception. Wanda looked up from her notebook and smiled at you. You placed your hand on the desk and she gaped at the bruises.

“Holy crap. You weren’t kidding” 

“Trust me, he had it coming”

“Everyone’s asking me about it. Your popularity has gone up a bit” Wanda leaned forward and you frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Jessica Jones asked me if you’re single. Darcy was similarly interested. I didn’t know if you wanted the rest of the school to know about Natasha so… I just said I had no idea”

You sighed. Considering Natasha’s concerns about hiding your relationship, it was better if everyone knew. You just had to figure out how.

“Well, I’ll fix that later. Right now I have to tell Mom”

“She’s in her office, speaking with a Japanese artist”

You nodded, walking past your friend to the back of the gallery. Knocking with your good hand, you waited for your mother to answer.

“Come on in. Oh, hi sweetheart. I thought you’d be staying home, recovering from yesterday”

“It’s just a bruise, Mom. Nothing to recover from” you took a seat in front of her, looking at the board behind her desk and the Art History books that she kept all over the place. It was an interesting contrast to Melina’s study, the image of order and chaos mirroring their own disciplines. Creative and scientist.

“Well, what are your plans for the day?”

“Uh… going to the movies with the twins and Natasha”

“The Romanoff girl? She’s so nice. Very shy, but sweet” your mother noted, still writing on her notebook.

“Yes, actually… we’ve been lab partners this semester and we’re also kinda… dating” you said the last part while your heart was beating out of control.

You gulped, as your mother put her pen down and looked at you. 

“Please don’t be mad” you begged, but she smiled that comforting smile that let you know she had your back.

“Mad? You’re 16. At your age, I was leaving a trail of broken hearts”

“Mom!”

“Don’t tell your father, though. He was a late bloomer”

“Speaking of Dad… can you be the one to deliver the news to him? He’ll get grumpy and you’re the only one that can handle him” 

“Don’t you worry about him, darling girl. Leave him to me. Now, will you wait for us to finish here so we can go to lunch and you tell me all about Natasha?”

“Of course” you smiled, always happy to know your mother was on your side. “I’m having dinner with her family tonight”

“Well, then she’s having dinner with us tomorrow”

“Yes, Ma’am” you nodded, thinking you’d have to prepare Natasha for meeting Captain Joseph Rogers.

—

Pietro and Wanda picked you up for the movies, the music booming across the street.

“Are you insane?” you leaned over Wanda to lower the volume on the stereo. Pietro laughed, his fingers drumming against the wheel.

“He’s been playing that stupid song since I told him you punched Rumlow”

“Eye of the Tiger is not a stupid song” he protested, finally stopping as he drove you to the movies. “She’s our Rocky Balboa!”

“Dork” Wanda mocked her brother with an affectionate smile and then turned to you. “Why are you dressed so fancy?” 

You had a burgundy cashmere sweater, camel colored pants and boots.

“Well, I’m having dinner with Natasha’s family. Do you think it’s too much?”

“You look amazing” Pietro assured you and you went to hug him  from your place in the back of the car.

“My favorite Maximoff”

“Hey, I called you fancy!” Wanda protested and Pietro laughed. “So, are you nervous?”

“Not really. I’ve spoken to her family, and I always see them when Natasha and I work on Chemistry homework. I’m more concerned about what Captain Rogers will have to say about Natasha”

“I’m sure it will be fine” Wanda said with a soft smile. She knew how hard these past few months had been, with the accident and the fallout between your parents and Steve.

Seeing Natasha eased some of the tension. Yelena was looking around the cinema when you arrived and after making the proper introductions, you moved over to greet your girlfriend.

“Hi” you said, kissing her softly. “Missed you”

Pietro pretended to gag behind you and you elbowed him.

“Wow, that was harsh”

“I’m Rocky, remember?” you winked, taking Natasha by the hand. Pietro insisted on buying popcorn and Yelena followed suit. 

“Don’t spoil your appetite, we’re going out for dinner tonight” Natasha reminded her. Yelena pouted.

“I can eat popcorn and have dinner, Natasha”

The redhead roller her eyes, but was soon distracted by your hand on hers. Either way, Yelena got away with it. Once at the theater, Pietro squeezed his way between Nat and you, saying he’d sit in the middle holding the giant popcorn bucket.

You gave him an angry look that he ignored and you had to play dirty to sit next to Natasha.

“Hey, babe” you called for her, leaning over Pietro so he would listen to everything. “We should go shopping tomorrow. You ripped my last pair of underwear, remember?”

“Ew, no” Pietro moved, allowing you to change seats.

“Ha. Easy” you mocked, leaning against Natasha. 

The movie started and you could tell Yelena and Pietro were hitting it off, making similar comments about the movie. Wanda was no better, pointing out things that the other two had missed.

“Oh, no, if they team against us we’re done, baby” you whispered against her ear. Natasha tried to reply, but moved against the back of her seat, pulling at the fabric of her pants. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a very good imagination” is all she said, trying to cover her crotch.

“Shit, sorry. I was just trying to get Pietro to move. Try to think about… something else”

“I’m trying” she said through her teeth.

“What are you going to say to Selvig tomorrow when we meet him?” you asked, hoping that would do the trick.

“We’re meeting him?” she turned to look at you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah, why not? If they don’t let us, I’ll use my press badge from the school paper and demand a Q & A session or something. Shutting down a teenager looking to learn more about the universe might be bad press”

Natasha chuckled, relaxing against your side. You could tell she was feeling better and the tension had eased. Just to be safe, you let her approach you first, and she reached for your hand, placing a small kiss at the back of it.

“I can’t wait for Virus XX!” Pietro clapped as you left the theater. 

“There’s gonna be more? We’re gonna be married leaving the kids with the sitter just to watch the next one” you whistled.

“I’m sooo full” Yelena complained.

“I warned you” Natasha said. The sisters began arguing and you waited for Wanda and Pietro.

“Ok, now I’m feeling nervous” you admitted. Wanda placed her arm around your shoulder and Pietro patted your back.

“You’ll do great and they’ll love you. You care about Nat and make her happy, that’s all her family wants” 

“Right” you took a breath, trying to slow your heartbeat. As you reached the exit, you waved goodbye to the twins and walked to Natasha’s car.

Your girlfriend was quiet during the car ride, and Yelena filled the silence with questions about practice and the twins. You were happy that they hit it off. Once at the restaurant, Natasha opened the car door for you while Yelena walked to the entrance. You took her hand, and followed her sister.

“Wait” Natasha asked, pulling you back.

“What’s wrong, Nat?”

“My family is a lot sometimes. They’re just loud and crazy and ask the weirdest questions…. If it’s too much…”

“Natty, it’s fine” you promised, kissing her cheek. “Come on. I’m starving” 

“You look very beautiful, by the way”

“Thank you, I wanted to make a good impression” you blushed.

“They already like you. My mom couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you are” Natasha commented, pulling the restaurant’s door for you to enter.

“Well, I’m very fond of your family too. But you’re my favorite, sweetheart”

The Italian restaurant had a nice atmosphere, with warm lights and soft music playing in the background. Melina waved at you and you walked towards their table.

“The girls are here, come, have a seat!” she said, excitedly. “I do hope you’re hungry”

“Yelena is starving” Natasha mocked and her sister glared.

“I am, actually” 

“Oh, Alexei, you know Natasha’s girlfriend, right?”

You waved at Alexei and he nodded. 

“Wait, how do you know? Mama just found out today” Yelena said.

“Well, they do homework together and go to the movies. Isn’t that what friends do?” Alexei looked at the two of you.

“No, Papa, they are girlfriends. As in holding hands, kissing and… bleh, other stuff. I don’t want to lose my appetite now that it’s back” 

“Oooh. Our little Natasha, quite the Casanova, eh?” he teased his daughter, laughing when she blushed. “Well, I’m very happy for you two. Tell me, what do young people do for dating now?”

“Well, movies, picnics, the mall. We’re going to the Planetarium tomorrow”

“Oh, we used to go there all the time” the man said, taking his wife’s hand. “And the minute it got dark, Melina would pinch my butt” 

“Ew, why?” Yelena dropped the menu, looking upset. 

“Because your mom is a butt girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant, Papa”

“Oh, I see where Natasha gets it from” you joked, unable to help yourself. Your girlfriend looked around the table, turning red.

“I am officially not hungry” Yelena grumbled, making everyone laugh.

—

You focused on some homework during Sunday morning. Since you were meeting Natasha later, you also cleaned your room and got a chance to do your hair and make up, opting for a loose dress and a light jacket.

“Dinner isn’t until 7:30, young lady” your father said as soon as you walked down the stairs. He was wearing a polo shirt and slacks, carrying a book about World War II. His idea of a relaxing Sunday was very different from yours.

“Oh, I’m going out with Natasha”

He groaned, removing his glasses. 

“Yes, your mother mentioned this Romanoff girl”

“So, what do you think?” 

“You’re too young” 

“I’m not marrying her. Yet” 

Your father glared and you had to laugh at his stern expression. So dramatic.

“This isn’t funny”

“Dad, do you know what we’re doing today? Going to a talk about Astrophysics. You really have nothing to worry about.”

“There will be rules”

“I expect nothing less from Captain Rogers”

“And curfews”

“Those are like suggestions to me, but sure, go ahead”

“Young lady” 

Stepping forward, you hugged your father. Guess you can’t really take the military out of the man. But still, he had a soft spot for you and conceded, his arms around you.

“I love you, Pops. And I’m happy. So, just trust me on this one?”

“Ok, sweetheart” he nodded, sighing. “I guess I just refuse to believe you’re growing up”

You broke apart when the doorbell rang. Natasha was waiting at the door, wearing a white shirt with jeans, blue blazer and oxford shoes. 

My God, glasses too. 

“Hi” you greeted, staring. She looked… dashing. “Uh…”

Your dad rolled his eyes, stepping forward and introducing himself.

“Captain Joseph Rogers”

“Natasha Romanoff, sir. A pleasure to meet you” she shook his hand and you were surprised by her confident demeanor. Double fuck, she looked even hotter now.

“Dinner is at 1930” he informed your girlfriend. “No speeding, no texting while driving. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir” Natasha nodded. Your mother shouted from the kitchen, making you snap out of your trance.

“Joe, just let them go and come help me!”

“Thanks, Mom! Bye, Dad” you kissed his cheek, taking Natasha by the hand and pulling her towards the car. “You look… wow”

“Yeah? I thought it would be more formal, considering the event” 

“Handsome” you blurted out, making Natasha blush. Oh, yeah. She liked it a little too much. You played with the lapel of her blazer, feeling hot everywhere. “My father is probably staring out the window but know that if he wasn’t, I’d be all over you right now” 

Natasha groaned, opening the car door for you. Unable to help yourself, you gave her a quick kiss, smiling as she began the drive to the Planetarium. 

During the ride, you went over some basic information about your family that would probably help her with conversation. You mentioned your mother and her time living in Paris while she got her Masters in Art History, your Dad and how he went from Army medic to surgeon at a private practice. You mentioned that Bucky lived with you because his father was working in D.C., and how your father and Colonel Barnes went way back to their days as soldiers.

By the time you reached the Planetarium, Natasha felt she understood where you came from a little bit better. 

“Wow, this is amazing” you admired, looking at the scale models of probes sent to explore space. NASA had collaborated with the museum, sharing materials and information that came first hand from their work. Natasha explained things and concepts that sounded totally foreign to you, but you nodded, appreciating her enthusiasm and admiring the way her eyes lit up every time you came across some fascinating space rock. 

“Please join us at the conference room for Doctor Selvig’s talk” the hostess announced, and you let Natasha guide you to your seats. 

You were fully expecting the talk to be full of science terms and concepts that were above your comprehension, but Doctor Selvig was a great speaker, and the hour went by in the blink of an eye. There was a standing ovation as he delivered his last remark, and before it was over, you pushed Natasha to the side of the stage.

“Let’s say hi to him”

“Why?”

“Because he’s cool and you look like you want to cry from being in the same room as him” you whispered, intercepting him as he walked down the steps. “Doctor Selvig, Y/N Y/L/N with the Daily Shield. My girlfriend Natasha Romanoff is a great fan of your work”

“Hi” Natasha greeted him, starstruck.

“Romanoff? Any relation to Doctor Melina Romanoff?”

“She’s my mother. Do you know her?”

“We met at a conference in Berlin a few years ago. She has some interesting ideas about the composition of minerals we found near meteorite sites”

“Right. Molecular astrophysics. I’d love to study all of that” Natasha said excitedly.

“If you’re half as brilliant as your mother, I’m sure you’ll be very successful” he said, patting her shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you both”

“Likewise, Doctor Selvig” you said as he went to greet the people from NASA. “How cool was tha…?”

Natasha kissed you, pulling you by the waist. 

“Thank you” she whispered against your lips.

“No, thank you” you smiled, enjoying her closeness. “We should get going. I just need to use the restroom first”

“Ok” she nodded, kissing you again. God, she made you weak in the knees.

You felt light as a feather as you walked to the bathroom. Everything was coming together so nicely; Natasha’s family liked you and you were sure your girlfriend would manage to turn around your father’s bad mood.

Coming back to the auditorium, you searched for Natasha. To your surprise, she was speaking with a girl that looked ready to pounce on her any minute.

“Hey” you greeted, standing next to Nat. 

“Oh, hi. Ready to go?” Natasha turned to you.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me?” you eyed the other girl, who smiled and extended her hand.

“Jane Foster”

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Natasha’s girlfriend”

“Oh, I had no idea you were dating anyone” the girl commented and you had to resist the urge to punch her. “Natasha and I met last summer at Science Camp. No wonder you stopped texting back, Natty” 

Jane reached out, squeezing Natasha’s arm playfully. Your anger transferred to Natasha when she just stood there and did nothing.

“Yeah, well. We should go, we’re having dinner with my parents” you said, although the last thing you were was hungry. 

“Nice seeing you, let me know if you’re going to the Winter Retreat. We’ll have the best time” Jane said with a wink.

“Nice seeing you too” Natasha said goodbye, while you rolled your eyes, walking to the exit as fast as you could. “Y/N, wait for me. Y/N!” Natasha insisted, chasing after you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“She was flirting with you” you accused, looking down. Since when were you the jealous type? “And you didn’t tell her you had a girlfriend. What was that about?”

“I just… don’t really think of her as anyone worth talking to?” Natasha admitted. “We spoke for a bit during summer, but that was it. I’m not interested in her”

“It’s just that…” you sighed, kicking the floor. “She’s smart, right? She probably understands everything about this exhibit and more, and could talk to you about all these science things while I’m… just me”

“Stop right there. You’re funny, and beautiful, and smart, kind, caring… I could spend all night listing things that drive me crazy about you”

“Crazy good?” you blushed, taking her hands.

“The best type of crazy” she promised.

“Ok” you nodded, allowing her to pull you closer. “I’m calling a truce because you look too damn good right now”

“Yeah?” Natasha smiled. Unfortunately for her, you spotted her good friend Jane Foster, still looking at you as if she wanted to continue the conversation.

Whatever Natasha was about to say next died on her mouth, because you crashed your lips against hers in a searing kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip until she groaned, allowing you to explore her mouth with your tongue. Her hands slid to your lower back and you scratched the base of her neck, fingers threading through fiery hair.

“Are you hungry now?” you whispered against her mouth, satisfied at the way she chased your lips, whining when you stepped back. 

“Huh?”

“Dinner. We can’t be late” placing a hand on her cheek, you smiled. Natasha nodded, following you to the car, her little friend long forgotten.

Yeah, that’s more like it.

—

During the drive back, you were still thinking about that Foster girl, and Natasha could read you like an open book, holding your hand as she went back to your home.

As usual, she opened the car door for you and allowed you to lead her to your house.

“Want a tour of the place?” you offered, taking her blazer so she’d be more comfortable. You appreciated the way the shirt clung to the muscles in her arms.

“Sure” she nodded, following you and looking at the framed pictures on the walls. Most of them were of Steve and you throughout the years. 

“Living room, that connects to the entertainment room” you pointed to a door where you’d usually have movie nights with the twins. “The pool table is close to the back shed, dining room, kitchen over there… Rooms are upstairs” 

“I guess I never noticed how big your house is”

“My mom has a studio and my dad has his reading room as well. Come on” you walked to the kitchen and got everything to set the table.

“Hi, girls. Did you have fun?” your mom greeted and you nodded.

“Can I help with anything?” Natasha offered and your mother nodded. 

“You can take the potatoes to the table, darling, thank you” 

She admired the way you set different silverware, including glasses and a bottle of wine that you knew your father liked. It all looked extremely fancy.

“We’re foodies here” you explained. “Hope you like greek lamb”

“I’ve never had any” 

“Oh, I do hope you love it” your mom said, carrying the tray with the food, fresh off the oven.

“Food’s ready, chop chop!” you shouted, assuming Steve and Bucky were playing pool. 

“Smells delicious” your father complimented, setting his book down.

“How are you liking Ryan’s book so far?” Natasha asked, sitting next to you. Your father seemed pleasantly surprised that she was interested.

“It’s good. About time I read The Longest Day. Though I still have to finish Churchill’s volumes. I’m stuck on the second half of the third”

“It took me two summers to read it all” Natasha agreed as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“All four volumes?” he said, clearly impressed.

You should have never doubted Natasha’s ability to win over a nerd.

“What did we miss?” Steve walked in, nodding towards Natasha. “Hey, what’s up, Nat”

“Romanoff” Bucky said and you glared. He sure as hell could be nicer, but alas. Boys will be boys.

“Just discussing some interesting books about World War II” your father replied and they both groaned. “Boys, it is an integral part of our history as a nation!”

“Pass the potatoes” Steve said, but your mother stopped him. 

“Guests first”

You poked your tongue out in a mocking gesture, passing the food to Natasha. 

After everyone had their plates ready, you started eating, talking a bit about your day and stuff you’d done during the week. Sundays were the only days you all had dinner together. Sometimes, your father was in the hospital for 24 hour shifts and your mom would stay late working at the gallery. 

“How was the conference?” your mother asked.

“It was fascinating. Did you know asteroids can have rings? And moons? There’s a whole world out there and we know so little” you said, inspired by Selvig’s speech. “Lucky for them, Natasha will put her brilliant mind to work on discovering new things pretty soon” 

“So, I’m guessing you’re going for MIT, Natasha?” your father asked.

“Yes, sir. That would be my first choice. Followed by Harvard and then CalTech”

“All very fine schools, right, Y/N?”

“NYU is also a very fine school” you defended, taking a sip of the wine you were allowed to have with Sunday dinner. Very European of your mother.

“Too many distractions in such a big city” your father complained; sensing the potential of a fight, your mother changed the subject.

“Bucky, still thinking about UCLA?”

“Yeah, some sun would be good for me”

“Next year you’ll both be gone, I can’t wrap my head around it” your mother pondered.

“Maybe we can finally get a dog” you proposed. “He’ll behave a lot better, that’s for sure”

“Very funny” Steve said.

“Not a joke, bro” 

“Natasha, what about your parents?” your father said.

“What about them?” you jumped, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just want to know what they do”

“Well, my father is a retired football player. Alexei Romanoff. He was with the Patriots for six seasons. And now he’s a coach at school. It’s more of a hobby than anything. My mother is the lead researcher on a project to develop a treatment for Alzheimer’s” 

“Wait, Romanoff as in Doctor Melina?”

“How many Romanoffs do you gather live in Westview” your brother joked.

It was the second time someone mentioned Natasha’s mother and you were honestly impressed.

“I’ve heard about your mother’s work, it is very interesting. Perhaps your family can join us for dinner one day” he proposed and you locked eyes with your brother. That was as good as it was going to get with your father.

“That would be lovely, thank you” 

The conversation kept flowing  and by the time dessert was served, you were full, sleepy and happy to see Natasha relaxed and smiling next to you. You reached for her hand, squeezing it.

“Y/N and Natasha set the table so you’re on cleaning duties, boys” your mother instructed.

You took Natasha to the backyard, walking along the edge of the pool.

“What’s going in that mind of yours?” you asked, seeing her eyes getting lost in the water.

“We’re also going to college in a few years”

“Mhm” you nodded, taking her hands. “And?”

“What will happen to us? I mean, I know it’s too soon, but I hate the idea of not seeing you every day and being away… you’ll probably make so many new friends…”

“Nat…” you said softly, until she looked at you. “I’ve waited for so long to be with you, do you really think being in different cities is gonna stop me?”

“Really?”

You laughed, taking a deep breath.

“If I were a poet, I’d write a haiku; you should know I really like you” you recited.

“How did you… You wrote it” she gaped. 

“It wasn’t my best work, but to be fair, we were 12”

A note that had been left at her locker, on Valentine’s Day. 

Natasha thought it was a prank or a mistake.

“That’s how long I’ve liked you” you nodded, your arms around her waist. “So, we will cross that bridge when we get there, in approximately two years. Ok, love?”

“Sorry, I know I get crazy…”

“Yes, but that’s part of your charm” you smiled, leaning forward to kiss her. As you broke apart you yawned, laughing. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. It’s the wine”

“It’s ok” she said, kissing your cheek. “I should go, it’s getting late”

“Come on, I’ll walk you out” you said, leading her to the kitchen to say goodbye to your mother. Natasha thanked her and was forced to take back a giant piece of cake. Yelena was going to be extremely happy, that was for sure. 

As you opened the door, your father called for Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It was lovely to meet you, young lady. You are always welcomed in our home”

“Thank you, Captain. And thank you for a lovely evening” 

Holy shit, holy shit, you kept saying in your head. And there was Natasha, looking super chill.

“What?” she asked, as you covered your mouth to keep yourself from screaming in pure joy.

“Uhm, that thing he said? He might as well ask you to call him Dad. He likes you, Nat” 

“Really?”

“Really” you nodded. “Can’t blame him one bit. Ok, drive safely, text me when you’re home” 

“Will do” she kissed you. And God, you wanted it to last forever.

You were so in love with her. The realization hit you hard and fast, but you decided to leave it for another time, when you weren’t so dazed by her presence and the little bit of red wine you had with your dinner.

Staring out the window, you watched her drive away.

“That was nice” your mother said and you nodded. The sound of plates crashing against the floor made her sigh tiredly. “Oh, boys” 

By the time you went up to your room, it was almost 10 PM. While you took off your dress, your phone pinged with a text from Natasha, letting you know she was home, and that Yelena had stolen the cake from her hands as soon as she opened the front door.

You laughed, sending heart emojis, as well as a picture of Natasha during the exhibit. She was smiling, looking up, the soft glow of the lights giving her a mysterious aura. 

Y/N: Stunning view

Leaving the phone on your dressing room, you went to the bathroom to wash your teeth, and brush your hair. As you settled in bed, you got a new text.

Natasha: 

each kiss is perfect

your smile is like summer breeze

our world is magic

Counting the syllables, you laughed. Of course Natasha wrote a haiku for you.

Y/N: Show off.

Y/N: I love it.

[punkeccentricenigma]

"He should (not) allow it." FUTURE!LEONARDO X FUTURE!HUMAN!READER

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: She/Her

Words: 1566

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language, angst, toxic thinking, future setting

A/N: The idea for this story I had for a couple of months, and only now managed to bring it to life. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but it's pretty close. Also, today is my birthday. Yay...

Enjoy

"What do you think, huh?!"

[Y.N] expelled a breath as she was pushed with rough gentleness into the center of a small private bedroom. Her brows remained unmoved, teeth clenched in anger.

"What's your problem, Leo?!" she responded with a question, straightening up to face the mutated turtle who forcefully closed the door, seemingly hurting it more than her.

Not sure what was going on, but not an idiot, she had her suspicions.

"Another base got attacked," Draxum said in a tone of indifference, but his old face betrayed considerable pain. "They're all gone."

The group gathered in the main room of the base under New York, or rather its rubble, expressed a collective murmur of additional words of disbelief or mourning; even if they didn't know these people, they were in the same position, knowing what they felt.

"What do we do now, Leonardo?" April asked, only showing furrowed brows. "It's only a matter of time before the Kraang and others attack us." Her words were logical, especially knowing how cruel and ruthless the aliens were, even to their own. Her chocolate eyes often noticed exhausted brains, dying from exhaustion, in their torturous work.

The turtle's eyes twitched slightly, probably not having slept all night, contemplating all of this since Donatello left. He had not only the planning on his mind but also the entire base's technology. He felt he was slowly losing control, but he couldn't show weakness, not now, not ever. "We'll have to boost the security and fuses; we can't afford them burning out during a potential attack," he said, adjusting his blue scarf. When was the last time he washed it? With a low water supply, laundry had become the worst option.

"Forgive me, leader," the dark eyes of the redearslicer rested on the slightly taller figure who raised his hand to stand out from the crowd. Ah, one of those geniuses who worked with his twin brother. You could see red eyes on the mutant—was it from fatigue or tears shed for a lost person? "But we'll need to conduct further reconnaissance to gather new materials for such an upgrade. Currently, we're lacking many things."

"Right..." Leonardo mumbled quietly, uncomfortably shifting his gaze. "So, we'll do it tonight."

"Yeah! Another round of taking down those damn meatbags!" Cassandra exclaimed joyfully, raising her hands with her wild gaze. Numerous deep scars adorned her bare shoulders, complementing simple childish drawings made by her son.

"However, many of ours were severely beaten last time; they're still in the infirmary wing," the African American woman pointed out sharply, crossing her arms. "We need to wait at least a week to carry out such an action safely!"

Leo had a strong urge to respond sarcastically to these objections but bit his tongue, not wanting to get into another argument.

"Well, then...!"

"I have an idea for a potential solution." All eyes turned again to the older goat when he spoke.

"What is it?" Leonardo's voice resonated lightly. He felt relieved that someone as intelligent as Draxum had an idea, but also uneasy, knowing his past.

"We'll use my mutagen to strengthen our power."

The turtle's pupils narrowed at the sound of his second 'father's' words. It was... unimaginable! "W-what?" he stammered, taking a step forward to stabilize his posture. "Use the mutagen? That damn slime?" He didn't want to use such strong words, but his shock exceeded his manners.

Baron Draxum cleared his throat, ignoring the term for his experiment. "I believe it's the best course of action in this situation. Analyzing past events and the likelihood of future ones, we need a survival factor."

Leonardo took in stale air, waiting for further elaboration on this idea. Why did he still feel uneasy hearing this?

"So, people would have to take the right dose of this green liquid to transform into the appropriate Yokai."

"That sounds absurd," the red-faced one acknowledged, placing a hand on his hip. "It's dangerous, especially in these conditions."

"I don't deny it, but I think it could eliminate most diseases for which we no longer have a cure." "And after failed attacks, people could have a better chance of defense and faster regeneration depending on the mutants they transform into. You know that well, Leonardo." The turtle automatically felt a tingling on his shell in places where previous wounds had faded over time.

"... Still, it sounds wrong." But why? Why do you think that way? Is it your current mindset, or is it from years ago?

"But... Draxum is right," April admitted, walking to stand beside the goat. "Without it, our chance of survival is low."

"Wait...!"

"We can test it today; I need at least one volunteer."

Everyone glanced at the person next to them, waiting for any reaction. Well, no one is deciding; it will be fine...!

"I... I volunteer." Leonardo's eyes widened as he noticed his partner, who, despite holding a box, raised her hand. There was determination on her face.

"You're being unreasonable!" Although Leo's voice usually had a light tone, at this moment, it was deep and aggressive. The fact that he strongly gestured with his only arm didn't help. "Agreeing to something like this? Are you insane?"

"Leon, listen!"

"No 'listen'!" The man snarled, approaching his beloved, causing an odd dominance. "What you've decided is utterly idiotic!"

"No, it's not. I'm just considering the well-being of the rest!" The woman held her ground, taking a step forward and delicately touching her chest to her fiancé's. Her eyes were sharp, causing a slight embarrassment in Leonardo's mind. He didn't usually behave this way, but he let his emotions take over.

"All that will result from this is total chaos and pain!"

"As if there isn't chaos and pain right now!" She emphasized, gesturing as well. She felt the pressure in her head increasing, and the hope for calming down diminishing. "You need to take a breath and think about it rationally, Leo."

"Ohohoho! Sure!" His tone became more mocking, and he started to pace, adding drama. "I've known that lunatic much longer than you. I know the messed-up things he's done! And you want that green crap to flow through your veins? You should have higher standards!"

"Apparently, I don't, since I chose you, someone who has the same thing in their body!"

A sharp intake of air escaped the turtle as he stood still. His face showed wounded pride, not from his fiancée's words but from his logical error. Fool.

After a moment, [Y.N] took a breath, wanting to calm down. "Leonardo, listen." Her smaller hands moved gracefully, as if she were trying to tame a wild animal that no longer existed in these times. "Draxum is right. Thanks to this slime, most of us will have a better chance of survival."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's total nonsense," the man muttered quietly, burying his chin further into the blue fabric. "Something like this is incredibly painful for an ordinary person, especially in circumstances where there's hunger, filth, death..." His voice slowly broke. Before, he didn't care much about humans; their rescue was just an addition to victory when he fought. But now? Especially since his dearest person is one of them?

"Leon, tell me directly what's going on."

"I feel awful," Leonardo began, letting his crystalline tears flow. "My brothers, Raph and Donnie... I couldn't save them...!" Before he realized it, he tightly embraced the woman, who motherly patted his shoulder or shell. "And even earlier, Dad..." pain "You don't even know how much I wish this invasion didn't happen, that everything was normal." "Or not to get used to every current situation; it hurts so much when everything 'falls into place,' and suddenly something crumbles or someone dies!"

"I understand you, that's why this mutation is needed."

"No, you don't understand..." his whisper pierced [Y.N]'s ears. He pulled away slightly from her silhouette to look into her [COLOR] eyes. "I don't want any changes because it's all I have when it comes to a connection with a normal past." His hand gently caressed the cheek of the person in front of him. "The fact that you're human reminds me of good times, of safety. If that disappears..."

A sense of guilt lingered in both of their hearts. For more or less rational reasons.

The woman averted her gaze, placing her hand on a larger counterpart of the turtle. She sighed softly and smiled reassuringly. "A-alright, you're right."

Another embrace, this time stronger than the previous one. "Thank you... I love you, and I don't want to lose you..."

"Same here..."

"But you know, I would look interesting as a mutated turtle!"

"You'd be bald as a knee."

"You say it as if it were a flaw, egghead."

Laughter echoed in Leonardo's mind as he looked in disbelief at the torn body beneath his feet, covered in red ash.

"This... can't be!" He immediately fell to the ground, brushing the sand off the face of the corpse before him. The man wasn't a believer, but with each passing second, he prayed for it to be a simple dream, a regular nightmare in his brain. Unfortunately... "[Y.N]!"

Amidst the distant sounds of battle, his roar and sobbing resonated among the rubble as he cradled the lifeless body of his fiancée in his plastron.

He should allow it.

[ethereance]

Thoughts on an au where Earth also has alchemy but it's kinda like one in fma and Lance did the Human Transmutation?? (I don't think kid!Lance would initially be interested in studying nerd shit alchemy but if it's to bring someone he loves? Then yeah. This guy was in show equivalent of nasa/stem program so he can be a pilot, I believe in him)

Very very very much like where you’re going with this Anon. Because oh boy does this give one the opportunity to test Lance to his limits *insert one evil cackle here.* (As someone who loves fmab, but especially fma03 and what that particular version did with its homunculus, *fma spoilers here* and their relationship with identity, and the identity imposed upon them, the very essence of ‘came back wrong’ this could lead to a horrible no good very bad time for Lance should I start writing anything remotely like this. Which I’ve now begun. Whoops.)

I have many thoughts :))) Probably focused way too much on the fma alchemy part, but brace yourself.

So. Humans have alchemy. Maybe they’re naturally born with this ability, perhaps many years ago ancient Alteans arrived in hiding and brought the practice of alchemy with them. It’s just a thing that’s always existed.

Pidge and Matt are the obvious to go for if you follow the fma storyline. They’re the kid geniuses and honestly that sounds like an interesting fic following the pair of them resurrecting their Dad (or perhaps Pidge trying to and Matt only catches on far too late). But. But. But Lance going f*** it we ball and messing around with those mystic mumbo jumbo dark forces he doesn’t get, learning to understand them because he cannot handle a reality where this dead person isn’t around? Yes please. I write self indulgently.

You get it! Lance got into fighter pilot class because there was a spot, meaning he would probably have been the top of cargo class, and you don’t get there without at least trying. Yeah, he’d call it ‘nerdy’, but this guy will put in the effort if it comes to it, and who’s he fooling, he was very much enjoying himself in that M&m episode.

So, if the situation arises, if he loses someone he cares about, and he’s in a world where the solution is there seemingly in the palm of his hand (human transmutation)? Yeah, he’ll put in the hard work, and wouldn’t think twice about the repercussions on him if it means whoever he’s doing this for will be okay. Is it selfish? Is it selfless? Who can say? Lance cares so much for his family, something happening to them would devastate him, so in this kind of au they’ll probably be at the top of the list of resurrection. So I’m thinking:

-His mother (his family is in shambles and a kid Lance wants things to go back to normal). Totally not ripping off fma with this suggestion.

-Rachel (they’re the closest in age, she has a matching jacket with him/has worn a spare version of his jacket so I’m gonna use what little breadcrumbs I have to presume she’s the sibling closest to him. I also like the probably refuted by canon headcanon of them being twins, and how upon returning to earth those two would deal with this new 3 year age gap between them. The ramifications of that time skip and Lance trying to find his own place in his family again just seems interesting to explore but I digress).

-Veronica (have more of a feel for her personality as opposed to characters like Rachel, Marco, and Luis. And Lance was pretty protective of her, despite Veronica being older than him).

-Hunk (could even go the childhood friends route with them). There’s nothing Lance wouldn’t do for his friends, he values them so much.

-Allura if it’s set around the same time as canon is (I’m an allurancer at heart and can’t help adding her to the list. Besides, allura has healed/resurrected him in canon during omega shield. Lance would want to give back, and would probably rationalise it as something she would do, sacrificing herself for someone else. Mr I can’t imagine this world without you is going to great lengths to get her the heck back, even at the cost of himself aka the fic I’m currently writing now Anon what have you done).

-or to pull plots up from canon, it could be Shiro and this is how Kuron (homunculus Shiro) is born, but I kinda see Keith being the one more likely to pull off the human transmutation for this. Maybe they work together on this? It would mean that Shiro and Lance would have to have a stronger bond than they did in canon, but anything is possible in an au (not that they didn’t have small moments, but they weren’t a focus like Keith and Shiro were).

Of course, it doesn’t go to plan at all. Whatsoever.

To what lengths would he go for sacrifice?

It’s all about that equivalent exchange.

-an arm and a leg because this gives him the perfect coping with humour ™ opportunity to say it only cost him an arm and a leg. Plus, perhaps Lance brought this person back out of guilt, ‘if I had been fast enough—‘. His inaction to save them the first time now leaves him without an arm, or without a leg. Or both (he’s not tethering anyone’s soul to armour here, just depends on how much flesh is taken from him to recreate the deceased’s body). Also, also. It correlates to his two positions on Voltron. The very same arm he was, the very same leg.

Also. It’s about those parallels of being just that little bit more like his hero (Shiro) but knowing that the loss of his arm was self inflicted, making him feel like a false hero, a presense, and he couldn’t feel further away from Shiro. He failed to save this person.

-memories of him in the mind of people he cares about (If you’re feeling super mean).

-His memories of the deceased. Now he wants to know why exactly he risked so much to bring back this unknown person back. What do they mean to him?

-him unknowingly giving up his soul so they can have one. And they’re fine and Lance feels like he was the one who came back wrong ™ there is something missing in him and he doesn’t get it.

And then whoever it is comes back.

They get thrown in a healing pod. Lance probably gets berated by whoever is there (Shiro, his mother, Coran) for doing so reckless, so risky without telling anyone. He knew they’d talk him out of this, but it all worked out right? Right?

But this person isn’t right.

Something about their skin is like a reanimated corpse’. It’s a little too pale. And their eyes are a little too dead. But it can all go by the wayside, they can ignore it. Being gone for so long can’t have been easy.

Said person resents who Lance made them be.

He didn’t bring them back at all.

And so we go the route of them having been brought back but is it really them? Or someone else who has been left with Lance’s memory of who they’re meant to be?

A small part of this person cares for Lance as they did, as a son/friend/sibling/significant other, and they hate that.

Maybe they require quintessence to keep them alive. And oh no. Not this again.

Just. Lance learning alchemy for the purpose of saving someone only he doesn’t save them at all. He risks it all to create a person that never asked to exist, that never asked to be who he wants them to be.

He didn’t make them right.

[siriannatan]

How to get a sparring partner - Scott fWhip

I have no idea where this idea came from but I'm here for fWhip causing chaos.

Scott was having a good time. Sitting in the Academy gardens with a book. Enjoying some peace and quiet. Not listening to bickering about useless topics. He had better things to focus on than relationships. Like his studies. Magical theorems were much more fascinating than boys. Maybe aside from.... no. He was not going to think about it... Jimmy had a chance. Said no. That was all there was to it.

"Studying even between classes?" Scott had a sudden urge to get up and leave as he heard a voice he really didn't want to hear. "Well, at least you picked a pretty spot," he didn't have to look to know fWhip shrugged.

fWhip, a genius with attitude problems and an overbearing twin sister. A massive pain. Scott's complete opposite with his fire magic. "It was certainly nice until you showed up," Scott bit back. He really hoped fWhip would just go back to whatever geniuses do in their free time.

The worst thing about fWhip was that he was pretty and fully aware of the fact. And not beyond using it to his advantage. So annoying. "What do you want?" Scott scoffed out a question when fWhip made no move to leave when faced with open hostility.

"How cold. I was just passing by and decided to be a good friend..."

"I don't recall us being friends," Scott interrupted.

fWhip just sighed. "Being the good and helpful person I am, I decided to ask if you have a partner for our duelling class yet and offer to pair up with you if you don't," but carried on his chatter. "Considering the compatibility of our magic it should be an interesting experience," he added as Scott thought on the offer.

It wasn't a bad offer in the slightest. Being a damned genius fWhip was a safe dueling partner. And Scott did want to test his ice magic against a fire user. And he doubted Tango, the only other fire mage in their group, would agree considering certain factors. Not to mention just how skilled fWhip was in combat. 

And there was one more a bit less educational reason Scott was inclined to agree. fWhip wasn't just pretty. He was unfairly pretty and if it weren't for his terrible personality Scott could see himself liking him. And he saw fWhip duel a few times. From a distance. And... There was no way of knowing when he could watch fWhip fight up close and not have anyone question it.

"If it gets you to leave me alone then sure," Scott shrugged. He was not giving fWhip the satisfaction of knowing why exactly he agreed.

To say fWhip's face lit up would be an understatement. "Great. It's a date then," he grinned before running off.

What? A what? "fWhip?!" Scott yelled out but it was too late. The other was gone. "What do you mean by a date? Are you insane," he sighed dropping to his seat. He didn't even realise he stood up to yell after fWhip. Must he always get attracted to idiots?

[x--ghost--x]

Tech support #1

[Rottmnt Donnie x gn!reader]

Is breaking into a lab at your university a crime? Maybe. Does one of the greatest geniuses in the world (this is not exaggerated at all) care about it? No.

Story about certain turtle meeting a superhero and becoming their tech support.

Warnings: none (yet)

English is not my fist language so there might be bad grammar or spelling errors, sorry! (I'm trying my best to check everything before posting but if you see smth let me know)

Masterlist

Hiii sooo I finished the first chapter and I'm excited to write more!

I love tmnt and spiderman so I thought it would be cool idea

Anyway, enjoy ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

━═━═━═━═━

Is breaking into a lab at your university a crime? Maybe. Does one of the greatest genius in the world (this is not exaggerated at all) care about it? No.

That's pretty much how Donnie found himself creeping through the empty halls almost in the middle of the night. It's been a while since he started searching for one of his school's more abandoned labs. But he was determined.

Recently he accidentally eavesdropped a conversation between two of his classmates. Well, not really eavesdropped, because the were talking on definitely lounder volume than most of the class and Donnie just happened to be sitting behind them. They were talking about some older lab in the farthest corner of the school that no one really visited.

And who would pass on such an opportunity for a new quiet workplace? Definitely not the Donatello Hamato.

With self-made goggles on his eyes he scanned the area slowly making way further and further into the dark corridor carefull not to make to many sounds. He's never been to this part of the school so navigating there was quiet a challenge with how many turns and doors were along the way. Seriously, they at least could have given them a layout of the building at the beginning of the year.

Reaching the end of the hall, Donnie stopped in his tracks. Rays of yellowish light filtered through a small window in the last doors falling on the greyish floor.

Maybe... someone just forgot to turn of the light earlier before leaving? No, janitors always check it after everyone leave.

No matter with how many excuses Donnie's been trying to come up with there was no other explanation.

Someone already was there.

Sudden wave of anxiety washed over Donnie as he reached to pull lightly at the end of his purple mask. Were those this guys talking about the lab in his class? That would make sense. But for some reason he had a feeling that it wasn't them.

After the moment of paralyzation, Donatello began making steady steps ahead. Stopping before the door he exhaled shakly not knowing he was holding his breath. Being as quiet as he could, he listened to the hushed voice from the inside of the room.

"Yeah, yeah I know I was a little bit to reckless." said the voice with quiet whine. Donnie guessed the person that voice belong to was talking through the phone, because he couldn't detect any other presence beside them. "But what could I do when he just suddenly trow a wHOLE BENCH-"

The voice stopped. He heard the sound of several papers being picked up and stuffed in a drawer. The sound of his heart was louder than the stapes coming out of the lab. Just as Donnie started to think of an escape plan he heard the voice again - this time more nervous.

"I think that someone-" they were cut off by the person they were talking to. How could they know that he was here? "But what if it's- Can you stop interrupting me for a second? What should I do?"

And this was the moment Donatello decided it's time for him to go. No matter who that person was or how they knew he was here he didn't want to be spotted, and in the worst case scenario reported to the teachers. He never will get detention like his twin (Leo was almost always in detention and Donnie certainly didn't want to deal with being in one room with his brother at the same time for so long). It's not like Donnie have never done something that would put him in so called 'after-class prison'. He just never got caught like his dumb-dumb brother(s - every one of them got it at least once).

Maybe he could just threaten them to not tell anyone?

...what they were doing here in the first place?

Lost in his head Donnie failed to notice a shadow slowly approaching the door. With one quick motion the door opened revealing the mysterious person from the not-so-abandoned lab.

For a few first seconds both of them were just standing staring at each other. It was so quiet (and probably as awkward).

As he lifted his goggles of his face, Donatello watched them with a strange kind of disappointment seeing that they were just some random normal student. They had [s/c] skin mostly covered by dark clothing in which the most signifying thing was the colorfull jacket (that gave him the sense of deja vu for some unknown reason). One of their hands was tightly wrapped around the strap of the cross body bag. Donatello noticed several pins, patches and keychains from different types of media on it. He could even recognize most of them (especially that one pin wit Atomic Lass on it).

"Uh, I was just leaving so-" they started talking startling Donnie a little. "-could you just... pretend you never saw anything?”

The mysterious person said nervously darting their eyes at everything but on him and just now he looked at their face. Even in the dark he could see every bigger and smaller detail, his own eyes jumping from the shiny [e/c] eyes to nose and lips and even to tiny scars scaterred on their skin. Scars huh?...

"Oh..." they breathed out finally laying eyes on him. "Turtle."

Donnie sudently felt a pang of irritation.

"Yes, excellent observation. I am in fact a type of reptilian, to be exact a one from the Trionychidae family." he responded totally not sarcastic.

The [h/c] haired teen stared at him in shock not knowing what to say for the first few seconds. Donnie was just about to start going on a rant on the topic of different species of turtles when they opened their mouth.

"Fancy way of saying you're a softshell turtle but okay." they muttered to themselves. "What I meant was, you're one of the turtle brothers. For so many yokai and mutants going to this school, you guys are the most recognizable." the teen started lightly bouncing on the heels of their feet before adding. "And we have at least four classes together every day."

Huh, that was a surprise. The turtle never noticed them in class before. Then again, he never pays attention to other students unless they're doing projects, which requires having a partner, or they are talking about something that catches Donnie's attention.

"I am not a bit surprised that my intellect is so recognizable among my peers and many others." he proclaimed with confidence. "However, now I'm more intrigued about what someone like you is doing in a school lab at 11:53 p.m."

Donatello rised one of his drawn eyebrows looking at them suspiciously. Small bead of sweat rolled down their neck.

"Well, I..." bright eyes shifting from his face to the ground and again on him. They cursed internally to themselves for not being able to hold eye contact for long enough to not appear suspicious. "I have permission form a teacher to use this lab."

"Why and which teacher would get you an access to-"

"What are you doing here though?" the more human one of the pair, swiftly avoiding the topic, tilted their head curiously.

It was his turn to sweat.

"I may have heard about an unoccupied lab and simply thought that such a place couldn't go to waste." the purple turtle pointed his tree fingered hand at the entrance to the room, hiding the other in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Understandable." they nodded at his reasoning. "Though, could you not tell anyone about it?"

"Why is that? I thought that you had permission form the teacher." Donnie questioned.

The teen scratched lightly their arm.

"Well, I do have a permission form Mr. Stark." they send him knowing look.

Oh, that made sense. Mr. Stark was known to be genius but rather... nonchalant teacher, which caused him to appear ignorant and selfish (being rich certainty did not help erase this assumptions). However, that wasn't true at all. He just cared in his own unique ways like, in this case, providing the workplace for one of his students. Although, he didn't really conducted any lessons, anyone in school could cusually talk to him about anything school- or no school-related. Mr. Stark was just kinda there if someone needed him.

So, in conclusion, a permission from him specifically isn't very reliable for other teachers.

Donatello hummed to himself, thinking for the most profitable solution.

"Let's make a deal." he requested firmly. "I won't inform any of the authorities of this university, which could get you and Mr. Stark in trouble, and you will give me an access to also use this lab. Of course, I won't interfere with your work and I expect to you do the same with mine."

[e/c]-eyed teen went silent, thinking expression on their face. The deal was pretty fair, they really didn't want to get them and the teacher in trouble, and letting him work in the lab shouldn't be a problem. Except, it was risky. He could find out.

But maybe they just need to hide their things a little better.

"Okay."

"I don't think you want to get into unnecessary trouble- wait, what?"

"I'm okay with that arrangement. I mean, I won't lose anything on that and I don't mind sharing." they shrugged, extending their hand. "So, deal? Oh, I'm y/n Parker by the way."

The turtle stared intensely at their opened palm not moving neither of his own. Instead, from under his purple hoodie appeared a metal limb reminding the other teen of spider legs. It grabbed their hand and firmly shook it.

"It's a deal then, y/n Parker."

━═━═━═━═━

Donnie ever so often found himself spending time in the lab. He observed that the class was much bigger on the inside that he thought. It also had an equipment that the turtle couldn't find in any other place in school. They were clearly bought or constructed by y/n (which the latter he was doubtful of).

Speaking about the teen, although Donnie never was really interested in his peers, he sometimes caught them walking somewhere in the back of his mind. They never stayed for long, only leaving unanswered questions that lingered in his brain later. He could learn nothing from the brief conversations they had every time they were switching turns in the laboratory. Or even when they started making small talks during the day in school (which he kind of enjoyed, because the turtle rarely had any classes with his brothers due to being on different profiles). What he could learn, however, was that with the level of sarcasm and jokes they could almost match his. Almost. Which made every exchange of words interesting.

But despite their friendly and teaseful nature, Donnatello was convinced they were hiding something.

He even made a list of what he found suspicious. It mainly contained things like:

- the fact that they never wanted to tell the purple turtle what exactly they were doing in the lab and always perfectly covered any evidence of teen being there,

- y/n was also avoiding certain topics, like, what connects them to Mr. Star or why they were just randomly disappearing from school,

- and the colorful jacket, which Donnie still found weirdly familiar.

And after a long internal discussion with himself, Donatello decided today was the day he will find out the truth.

That's why he was now searching every drawer in the laboratory for any kind of clues. Today, for some unknown reason, y/n hurriedly left seconds after he opened the door, throwing a quick 'hi', before disappearing around the corner. Therefore, Donnie decided it was excellent time to pull on a little investigation.

Shuffling through the papers scattered on the table, his dark eyes scanned every bit of information on them. However, they seemed to be encrypted, making it difficult for the turtle to understand exactly what was written on them. When he was starting to get irritated, he spotted, under all the other paper sheets, something what looked like a blueprint of unknown mechanics. Small device in the shape that reminded him of a tear, was drawn with precision. Every little detail was carefully described, from how the parts were made, to in what way they need to be put together.

Donnie could probably analyze it for hours and lost himself in the vortex of work, but what most cached his attention was what was on the other side of the paper.

A recipe for web fluid with a 'Synthetic Webbing' written in the top left corner of the page.

"Salicylic acid, toulene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, potassium carbonate, and ethyl acetate, huh..." he read out loud. "What would they need to create a webbing like that for? Judging by its structure it needs to be load-bearing and strong, hold with extreme amounts of tension and stress, yet have a little stretch to it."

The most important thing he could recall now, was that spiders were able to produce sticky thread, using it to create webs. Which, somehow, was the missing puzzle piece that he yet needed to put in the right place.

What exactly spiders have to do with that-

"Wait a minute." Donnie mumbled to himself.

In the New York City was one particular spider that everyone recognized - Spiderman. The faceless hero, in the black and [f/c] suit with a jacket thrown over the shoulders, protecting the city from any danger. The turtle himself was never really as interested in superhero as his brothers, but because of them he knew more overall informations.

Rubbing his chin, Donatello looked around the lab trying to put all those informations together. His eyes, however, landed on familiar colorful piece of clothing left hanging loosely on the chair back.

Suddenly, with wide open eyes, his stomach twisted uncomfortably giving him this weird feeling of dread and realisation. Quickly he stuffed the rest of the papers in the drawers trying not to accidentally rip them. Seconds later, the door to the lab opened revealing [h/c] haired student.

"Sorry, Donatello, I just forgot my-" they halted seeing the blueprint in turtles three-fingered hand.

He felt his heart stopped beating for a moment before he was able to speak.

"You were in a hurry and left couple of things, so I thought I would offer my assistance and clean up! Yeah..." the purple turtle explained tugging at the end of his mask. "Although, I may have accidentally get to know the content of one of your projects, which leads me to the question. What is the purpose to create artificial web-"

"Cosplay!" they expressed loudly, surprising him and themselves. "I mean- yeah, I just wanted to make, uh, Spiderman's cosplay! For convention! Yup, that's right."

The teen nodded with a smile, not knowing who they're trying to convince more, him or themselves. Donnie only rises his eyebrow.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), both of them were terrible at lying.

"So, are you..."

"Yeah, well..."

Both students were staring at each other uncomfortably.

"I'm assuming that Mr. Stark knows about that, and that's why he let you use this lab?"

"Well, actually, I was there before and he caught me while I was testing the web." they explained, scratching their arm. "He helped me with the whole... hero thing, I guess."

Donnie nodded, still being lost somewhere in his head.

"How exactly did this... happened? What I mean is, I noticed that you posess only certain aspects of a spider, like, being able to attach yourself to different surfaces." the turtle trailed off ready to go on a rant. "However, you need to fabricate the webs yourself, so, I'm assuming that means your body can not produce them itself-"

"Donatello, as much as I would like to listen to your genius talk, I'm afraid I don't have many answers for you." they hold up their hands in defensive manner and dropped their [e/c] eyes to the floor trying to avoid his gaze. "Besides, it's not really interesting story. I was bitten by radioactive spider and started sticking to random things. That really freaked me out. But I guess I just grown up to accept that now I have weird superpowers."

"What about being a hero? Why-"

"Can you not tell anyone?" they cut him off hastily while focusing up on him again with pleading look. "I know I can't really force you to do that, but maybe there is something I could do? I can't really think of anything I could offer though... It's easier and safer when less people know..."

He began to think, wondering what he might possibly want from them. What might they have that Donnie couldn't construct himself? Or what information they possessed that could satisfy him? For a brief second he even thought of organising a meet-up for his brothers who certainly would be delighted to converse with a hero, but quickly dismissed the idea realizing that it would led to questions how he was able to meet Spiderman in the first place.

However, maybe there was something that Donatello would be interested in...

"How about this," he started clasping his hands together. "For exchange of my silence, you will provide me with informations on your whole hero life, including the topics like, what style of fighting do you have, what your enemies are like, how exactly does your tech works, and so on. I would also like to help you advance your inventions, because for what I see there is still room for improvement."

y/n just stare at him dumbfounded, trying to process all the information he threw at them. That was kinda a lot. Didn't Donnie said sometime before that he wasn't interested in superheros or any of that kind of stuff? They still could clearly recall that one time in class, when group of people were talking about Spiderman, saying that the hero must have some cool magic stuff helping him fight, and the purple turtle lould expressing that it had to do something with technology and not non-existing magic. Then he proceeded to dismiss the need of having a so called superhero, saying he had better solutions in terms of improving the city's safety.

It's almost like he wanted to...-

"Are you saying that you wanna be some kind of my tech support?" they smirked suddenly feeling smug. "You're asking for much there, turtle boy. You should know it's not really the safest job."

The [h/c] haired teen furrowed their brows saying the last sentence in sceptical tone. The last thing they wanted was to put another person in unnecessary danger.

"Must you have put it like that?" Donnie rolled his eyes at the silly title. Then he put on a more serious face. "I am aware of the risk this request might bring with it. Nonetheless, I have my own reasons of doing that. Also, I may or may not took a pity on you and simply thought you could require a little assistance."

"Assistance? Me? Please, I am very well organized with everything-"

"Why were you in hurry earlier?" he asked crossing his arms while lifting one of his drawn eyebrows.

Their eyes widened in realisation.

"Oh, shit- aunt is so gonna kill me." the young hero said hurriedly and darted to the door in such speed that even the blue hedgehog would be jealous of.

"I think you forgot something." Donatello lifted their colorful jacket of the chair and extended his arm towards them.

The teen hastily turned around, grabbed the jacket and again speeded of to the exit.

"Thanks Donatello, see you tomorrow!"

"You can just call be Donnie or whatever. And try not to fall of the stairs!" he shouted after them not expecting any answer.

Despite that, he could hear a distant 'Bye, Donnie!' accompanied by sound of running.

The purple turtle stood on the center of the lab a little longer.

"Sigh. How this dumb-dumb is even alive..."

This is going to be interesting, wouldn't it?

━═━═━═━═━

It's only the first chapter so nothing crazy happens here, but it'll be more interesting later

I think it's not bad tho

I'll also post it on ao3 and probably also wattpad later (I'll post link to it)

Updates will be under the tag

#tech-support ☆

And any questions, answers, fan arts and comics (that I plan on making) and else related under

#tech-support ☆: talk

So if you have any questions or just want to share something related to this fic then please go ahead! I really like talking about my AU's (￣∇￣)

Anyway, hope you have a great day/night! Bye~

- ghost

[erendur]

Crack Silm Relationships I’d like to read about II

2. Daeron and Any Fëanorian but Maglor

This one is just because I would like to add even more awkwardness/drama to their family dynamics. We are told that Maglor is considered the best singer, “second only to Daeron”, so I would like to put them in the same room/family on a regular basis. I think they would behave like hostile cats. The Fëanorians would be torn between family solidarity (Maglor, our brother,  is the best !)and the fact that they have ears (they can tell that Daeron is objectively better). 

I think Daeron/Caranthir could be interesting. I think Caranthir is very depressed that his wife left him, and he’s a loner, so is being pretty miserable all alone in his castle with his snooty servants, and I want him to be happy. I think he is a bit overlooked among the Fëanorians, because he’s not tall and well-formed like Maedhros, he’s not a genius singer like Maglor, he’s not handsome like Celegorm, and he’s not like his father like Curufin. So I think he would like someone to hang out with him, be nice to him, and he would love a trophy husband. Daeron would sing to him and tell him he’s great. Daeron is the greatest singer, so Caranthir would finally have something to be super proud of. The other Fëanorians (minus Maglor) would also be super proud of the new genius family member (they like collecting geniuses, it’s a family thing), they would boast about him when Maglor is not around (and look super awkward when Maglor is around).

Daeron is in love with Lúthien, but it’s hopeless. He’s too Elvish and too clean for her tastes. So he should just leave and go somewhere where he can be better appreciated. He’s an artists, so he would be attracted to the fatal charm of the Fëanorian drama. He would spot the potential for great songs. Plus he’s pissed off at Lúthien and her dad, who never recognised him at his just value, so he “passes to the enemy”. He immediately recognises in Caranthir a fellow brooder, who also thinks he is under-valued. Plus Caranthir might be one of the least-good looking Fëanorian, but he’s still a Fëanorian (he’s hot). He’s got blazing eyes and amazing black hair, plus probably looks a bit eldrichty to an Elf who did not go to Valinor like Daeron, all things we know that Daeron is partial to.

Next thing you know, Daeron lets himself be pampered by an actual prince like he always thought he deserved. He writes songs about how great Caranthir is, and about how much the Arafinweans suck, which Caranthir always thought he deserved. Caranthir gets super intense at singing/music competitions (mad football/soccer parents energy), and nobody dares to utter even the mildest of criticisms against Daeron, even well out of earshot of Caranthir, because we all know how hot-tempered and prone to violence he can be. Daeron’s reputation, as a result, has never been better. 

Maybe the fact that Maglor is considered “second only to Daeron” is in fact because Maglor doesn’t have a proud, hot-tempered and stabbing-happy husband, so whenever people say nice things about Maglor, they immediately feel the need to add “but Daeron is better, of course”, no matter where they are in Beleriand and beyond.

3. Amrod and Amras and Amazon Wives

These are the two Fëanorians we know the least about. If they both make it to Beleriand, it seems that they just enjoy hanging out together in the woods and hunt, and somehow manage to survive all the way to the last Kingslaying. So maybe they are like proto-hobbits Elves, who are just happy to chill together as bachelors and out of harm’s way. Maybe they invent pipe-weed and waistcoats during the 500 odds years where they do not have any fighting to do.

But since they seems to be spending lots of time East, in the forest, and seem pretty good at fighting, I would like to give them Avari Amazon Wives. Maybe also twins, for the matching look. They would woo each other with their respective prowesses with bows. They would go on hunts together. I imagine the Fëanorians in general being interested in other varieties of Elves, and in not marrying other Noldor. So A&A could go on adventures in the East with their cool wives. Maybe have some more red-hair babies, if they feel like it. That’s it, I have nothing more on that. 

3. Curufin and a Dwarf.

We only have unions of Elves and Men, and nothing with Dwarves. But Curufin, we are told, befriends the Dwarves enough that the few things Elves know about Khuzdul all come from him (not Celebrimbor. Curufin). Which denotes a very deep level of trust and friendship there, since Tolkien wrote somewhere (yes, somewhere), that Dwarves keep that language Super Secret. They never speak teach it to anyone, in fact they never speak it in front of non-Dwarves, preferring to learn and use other race’s tongues in front of them to keep it a secret. They even go as far as to keep their Khudzul names secret, and only ever use other non-Khuzdul with non-Dwarves. And yet Curufin managed to learn some of it, or at least to learn some things about it.

Of course Curufin is great at forge-work, is probably super interested in Dwarvish techniques and maybe aesthetics. A Dwarf partner would also be interested on learning more about Fëanorian Forge Magic. They would have a lot of interests in common (well, they would have forge-work, but since they would be both super into it, that’s quite enough). 

Curufin is also his Father’s Son, so I don’t think he would care what anybody would have to say about his choice of partner, or be particularly prejudiced when it comes his choice of romantic interest. If someone is going to cross that interracial barrier in Middle-Earth, it’s Curvo. 

[agaypanic]

Malcom being a girl dad to a lil girl genius 😍 maybe even twin girl geniuses

i think it’d be hilarious if malcolm and his brothers were girl dads tbh

and with his luck, his first kids would probably be twins lmao and they’d be so sassy, and malcolm wouldn’t know if he should be proud or try to get them to chill

[beyondthebackup]

Alternative's next breath caught in his throat as an unpleasant sensation snaked up his spine like a fever's chill. ❛  you aren't scared of me, are you?  ❜

"You aren't scared of me, are you?"

Backup whispers, straddling Alternative in his twin bed for the very first time.

A's eyes snap open in an instant, clearly startled no matter how hard he may try to hide it. It's the dead of night, so dark that B is nothing but a shadow, even as he presses his weight down onto A's body.

"I wonder...what were they thinking, putting us in the same bedroom?

Did they intend for us to get along?

If you were in a different room, you could at least lock your door. I'm excellent at lockpicking, but you'd have a potential witness in your roommate.

Here, it's just A and B. Every day and every night...even as we're asked to compete. To destroy one another.

They must've known one of us would be devoured eventually. Like a parasitic twin in the womb. There is not enough room for the both of us.

Do those adults really think it will happen fairly and cleanly? With one of us just accepting defeat? I don't believe that for a second.

This...must be part of the test. Our proximity. If they wanted two geniuses to survive long enough to be of use to them, they would've locked us both in cages and kept us as far away from one another as possible. Otherwise..."

B reveals the scalpel A gave him as a peace offering all that time ago. A cannot see it - he can only feel the chill of metal pressing against the thin skin protecting his jugular vein.

"It's just too easy for me to win. Right now. For all your brilliance, dear A, none of it can protect you from the weakness of your flesh."

Lightly, carefully, almost lovingly, he grazes the sharp tip of the blade down the length of Alternative's neck.

"A moment ago, you were unconscious. You might have never woken up. Even now, you're completely at my mercy. I could do whatever I wanted to you and no one could stop me. That has been true every single night you've slept next to me in this bed. Do you realize that?"

Suddenly, B shoves the scalpel into A's mouth, pushing it against the corner of his lips. He leans forward until their foreheads meet, and A can feel the warmth of his excited breath.

"I think about it all the time."

For a few agonizing moments, they stay just like this. Perfectly still. The silence and the darkness cloaking them in a world where nothing else exists. Frozen in time.

B withdraws the knife in one swift motion, cutting into the corner of A's mouth as a result. It should sting and bleed, but not scar. At least, not permanently. B slips the scalpel back into his pocket and slowly sits back up.

"Goodnight, Alternative."

B crawls from A's bed and back into his own.

[rurulaura]

It’s been four years since i drew the 25 yrs later ideas i had. I wanted to make my own headcannons and everything filled with inspiration like i saw with everyone else’s. But i just don’t.

It took time for me to realize it’s ok to not have the same amazing ideas as everyone else. I do have inspirations for some characters. But not for all.

Taichi and Yamato is the same. They are married with sora being the surrogate.

I want the theme of older sisters in this au. Because there are so many older brothers as the forefront in adv. I’m glad we got older sister in hunters! We also don’t have an older sister and younger sister chosen duo i don’t think? I would like that to become reality.

I can’t think of sora being married with biological kids. Instead i see her more in the mother figure position. Like a foster parent or works at an orphanage or day center.

I like mimi and meiko still being a married couple. Have a kid, maybe even live on the out skirts of the city:..

I didn’t have anything for relationship for Koushirou. Until digimon kizuna. Two geniuses that flourish in research and computers. They could talk about various subjects for days. I don’t know if i see them as having kids.

Sometimes people want to be married, but not have kids. And there is nothing wrong with that. Not that they dislike kids. But just don’t have interest.

Jou and the bike girl from the revenge of diaboromon i know is a common ship. And jou has a girlfriend in tri. So i don’t see why they couldn’t still be a thing. Shhh. I don’t care if tri used that as a running gag My brother and his wife was an example of love at first sight. ☺️🥰 i just don’t have inspiration for their character beyond that.

I am still keeping the takeru and hikari pairing. I was nervous that the two sets of siblings was illegal. But it’s not so heck ya! I like the idea of their twins being troublemaking pranksters too much.

Daisuke and keiko. I want daisuke to be happy! But beyond marrying someone who is a big food enthusiast as he is, that’s really all i know. If they mark and have kids, should i make them have a daughter? Or maybe this is one if the cases that daisuke stays single…

Miyako and ken are the same. Older daughter, son, and youngest daughter.

Iori and Mizuki from hunters who has the submarimon is an endearing couple. I can imagine her getting him to relax by exploring the ocean. Maybe he feels obligated to explore the digital world in honor of his dad.

I also thought about daigo and maki. I’d like them to be married too. I don’t have any sparks of inspiration of what to do. But they deserve happiness after tri. 😭

That’s my rambling for now…

[askseriousrainbow]

Alrighty, part 3 of the list. These are numbers 80-71, if you've been keeping track.

Link to part 1. Link to part 2. Link to part 4. Link to part 5. Link to part 6. Link to part 7. Link to part 8. Link to part 9. Link to part 10.

80. Command & Conquer Remastered Collection

Command & Conquer's remaster was a breath of fresh air, bringing in new players to both the original Tiberian Dawn and Red Alert, which are some of the highest rated strategy games ever made. The remaster just makes it easier to play, and you can choose to go back to the older graphics too. Just really good all around.

79. SimCity 2000 Special Edition

Ah, the good old SimCity franchise, back when always-online didn't exist. I'm putting 2000 here because it takes the original formula, adds a water system and specialty buildings like schools and hospitals, more disasters, a better way of doing a budget, and adds bonds/loans for the first time. A great game, with a great Let's Play. I still call the Transit Advisor “Jim” because of it.

78. Yakuza 0

Ah, Yakuza 0. My first playing of this great series. I find myself distracted by the side stories, easily. Kiryu is an interesting character and sympathetic, never breaking his “no killing” rule (if you play him like I do, anyway). Majima is just as endearing and he's given a great backstory in this game. I still need to play the other ones, but this is a strong game to start the series with.

77. Puzzle Agent

A cross between Twin Peaks and a puzzle game? Yes, please! You have to solve a mystery of a missing foreman, and have to solve all types of puzzles to get to the bottom of it. It doesn't really get solved until Puzzle Agent 2, but Puzzle Agent 1 is slightly better, so that's why it's on the list.

76. Another World

Also known as “Out of this World” because of a soap opera of the same name, this cinematic platformer is highly regarded as one of the best. Using a checkpoint system, it's very much trial and error, trying to make sure you don't die. Or your buddy, uh... Buddy.

75. Sid Meier's Civilization IV

Civ IV is my favorite of the Civ games, simply because it was easy to get into. Its expansions are great too. It's great trying to get to Alpha Centauri, and the addition of Leonard Nimoy voicing the technologies is fantastic. It's the last of the “square-grid” Civ games too, all later mainline ones were hexagonal, I believe.

74. Fibbage 4

This is probably the newest game on my list, but I love Fibbage, and this version of it is what I consider the best, what with its differing question types, fan questions, and a great visual style.

73. Evil Genius 2

I'm putting Evil Genius 2 a little lower than the original, but it's still a great base building game that expands its predecessor, with four (later five) evil geniuses to choose from. It also has multiple bases, so you can conquer the world from wherever. Also, the steady flow of your minions is better put together here. It's just a little lower because no Alexis.

72. Scarface: The World is Yours

Ah, Scarface. One of my favorite movies gets a “quasi-sequel” because this game starts with the classic shootout at the end of the movie (and you will die if you don't turn around and kill The Skull) and is about Tony rebuilding his empire and getting revenge on Sosa. The voice cast is fantastic and the music is kicking. See if you can find the PC version, there's a great fan-made patch for it.

71. Shantae and the Pirate's Curse

Pirate's Curse is heavily regarded to be the best of the Shantae games, and I have to agree. The pirate gear adds a lot to Shantae's normal skill set, along with being a different style of play since it doesn't have any genie powers, unlike the other Shantae games. It's still a fun time.

Part 4 should be tomorrow! :D

-SR

Link to part 1. Link to part 2. Link to part 4. Link to part 5. Link to part 6. Link to part 7. Link to part 8. Link to part 9. Link to part 10.

[camillomea]

bats and cat

Chapter 3: 3-talking

Notes:

helluuu. The new chapter is here. Finally some information is starting to emerge. I hope you like the chapter. Please tell me what you think about the chapter. I am very curious about whether you like your thoughts or not.

note: I am thinking of adding gotham social media to the events but I am still not sure. What do you think will happen, enjoy reading..

Bruce had changed and left the room. He started to slowly walk down the stairs. When he went downstairs, it was quiet. He entered the living room. Selima was sitting on the couch and glaring at Oliver and Hal who were sitting across from him. Oliver and Hal turned their heads towards him when they heard footsteps. Hal said "Spooky" excitedly. But when he noticed the way he was walking, his eyebrows furrowed. Oliver said "Hey Bruce. Good to see you" smiling. He seemed to be already aware of his situation. Hal said "WAIT! Something happened and you knew! Really?" Oliver said angrily. Oliver said "I'm a kid friend of hers. Of course I was in contact with her" Selina said "Oh I mean your friend. Did you think of this last year?" Oliver said coldly. Oliver said "Selina please" with a sigh. Selina said "If something like this happens again I'll gouge your eyes out". She got up, kissed Bruce and left. When he left, Hal turned to Bruce and said "Your girlfriend is scary Spooky". Bruce looked at Hal as he sat on the couch and said "my wife" with a flat expression.

Oliver said "why didn't I get an invitation to the wedding" with an exasperated tone. Hal said "so you weren't surprised" Oliver said "no". Bruce said "we didn't have a wedding, we decided to get married when we found out we were having twins. We only had the ceremony at the official office. We were planning to have a wedding when the twins were born". Oliver was startled by this statement. Hal said "wait, do you have other children?" when he noticed their expressions and said "there aren't any other children?" The two shook their heads. Hal rubbed his temples "what happened" he asked wearily.

Oliver said "Cat was pregnant. They had just found out they were having twins, they didn't even know the gender yet, there was an incident. Cat was on patrol at the time to make sure there was no trouble in the city. there was an incident" there was a misunderstanding with the police and that caused Cat to have a miscarriage" Bruce said "Selina has never come back to Gotham since that incident". Hal was shocked “Do your children know anything about anything?” he asked. Bruce shook his head. This was before he adopted any of these children. Frankly, it’s not that easy to tell someone about this. Especially not when you’re actually married and starting a family.” Hal said “you were going to have babies, two of your own.” Bruce said “yes.”

Alfred knocked on the door and came in with drinks. He served them. Then he left. Bruce drank his own coffee. Hal said “so what happened?” Bruce asked “about what?” Hal shouted “YOUR LEG.” Oliver said “hal, calm down,” he sighed. Hal said “you knew and you didn’t say a word.” Oliver said “someone had to keep an eye on him while he was being treated and getting better. It’s not really necessary,” he said, glaring at Bruce.

Bruce said “those bastards find it really annoying to make a big fuss even though they know I won’t be around. What should I do?" he said. Oliver said "The bad guys in your city have lost their minds." Bruce said "Yeah I know it's probably the atmosphere of the city. It's also ironic that most of the geniuses in the city with PhDs are guests at Arkham." Oliver said "Yeah definitely the atmosphere of the city. They're all crazy. Speaking of crazy people how's your stupid son doing?" he said.

Bruce sighed “he attacked me the last time we met. He stays as far away from me as possible lately I stopped trying I give him as much time as he wants he has the key he can come whenever he wants unless he decides to kill me or something” he said.

Oliver sighed “don’t get yourself killed” he said. Hal asked “is it that bad” Bruce said “I will have to have a long talk with him. But he is too angry to listen to me and probably hates me” Oliver said “does he know about what happened” Bruce shook his head and remained silent. Oliver said “Bruce can you please explain to us exactly what happened I don’t understand how they were able to catch you or how he caught you” Bruce said “I went with him of my own free will” Hal and Oliver froze. Hal said angrily “I couldn’t hear! What did you do? What did you do?” He asked angrily.

***

Bruce had finished his usual patrol and headed home. But before he even got to the cave, a man had found him. He looked at the gun pointed at him and said "What the hell do you want. You must be really brave, do you think you can defeat me with just one gun?" His body was ready to attack immediately. But the man just laughed "Oh Mr. Batman, you will come with me, even of your own free will. Or should I call you Mr. Wayne? I wonder how many people will come after you and your loved ones if the identity of your entire family is spread all over the world" he said in an icy tone.

Bruce froze, how could he have learned, how did he know, he gritted his teeth "What do you want" he said. The man said "Oh simple, you will come with me and you will be my guest for a while and I warn you, only I may know the truth right now, but if you kill me, all the information will be spread all over the world" Bruce clenched his fists. He raised his hands in the air and said "I surrender". He would never put any of his family or friends at risk again. could never happen again.

Notes:

how far will he go to protect the family, how far can someone go knowing that he will drag him to his own end. he surrenders himself to his own angel of death. protecting the family can sometimes cost much more than his own life

Part 2

[rmorde]

Tbh, I interpret Curse Energy (CE) as simply an abundance of negative stress. Too much stress can warp our perspective of reality and manifest into unimaginable monsters in our heads.

Each person experiences and produces various amounts of negative stress. However, certain individuals have uncontrollable quantities of it that it leaks out and affects others through scapegoating or emitting bad vibes that ruin perfectly fine atmospheres (to name a few).

What makes Sorcerers special is that their bodies have a built-in automatic stress management feature. I'll just call it as Stress Regulation Engine Inside Sorcerers (SREIS). SREIS helps sorcerers automatically manage their negative stress (CE). Their stress then gets processed by the engine into "products":

Physical Enhancement

Non-Physical Enhancement (the canon CE)

Some SREIS are fairly simple in "model" with an output that are just ability to see curses and to mildly enhance bodies. More advanced SREIS allow the usage of barrier. The most sophisticated "models" are those that produce Curse Techniques with a variety of effects.

Ordinary humans have no SREIS to turn their negative stress into something useful or to even automatically regulate it. So they are more prone to leaking which will eventually cause a Curse Spirit to manifest.

Sorcerers becoming Curses upon death is just their SREIS breaking down. They would start leaking an incredible amount of stress that can explode unless they can "manually" regulate it themselves back to a normal amount.

Heavenly Pacts are probably just irregular SREIS models producing different outputs.

Toji: He has an SREIS that processes his negative stress into an output that solely focuses on enhancing his body to an absurd degree at the cost of all non-physical abilities (No canon CE)

Maki & Mai: They share one SREIS since they're as twins so its "product" was divided the two of them. Maki is similar to Toji - gained a superhuman body. However, it demands a lot of the stress output which left Mai with the short end of the stick. She has not fully manifested a CT (low Non-Physical Enhancement).

Mechamaru: His SREIS is a reverse of Toji's. It processes negative stress solely into Non-Physical Enhancement which at the cost of a physically fit body.

*Shoko is special. I don't think she is shown to use a regular CT yet. She only has RCT. This can mean that either:

Her SREIS can processes twice the amount of negative stress regular sorcerers have to produce RCT (because it CT x CT = RCT)

Her SREIS processes positive stress instead which only allows her to produce RCT but never CT.

But anyway! Sorcerers have SREIS that they need to understand, hone, and maintain very well to become the best that they can be. Ordinary humans do not have SREIS BUT I think they can simulate one.

To elaborate: SREIS gave sorcerers a natural advantage in regulating their stress. It's like how sport "geniuses" have in-born physical advantages over other athletes. Therefore, similar to non-genius athletes, ordinary humans CAN have the ability to regulate their stress (aka CE) as well if they just learn and train it.

Basically, Yuki is right about the second mode of causal treatment for Curse Spirits. People just need to learn proper stress management! With appropriate therapy and emotional/mental support, negative emotions such as anger or depression would be handled better. Their negative stress (CE) would not leak all over the place.

Suguru should have been a therapist and turned his cult into an NPO for mental health. Sadly, he (and Yuki actually) didn't dig enough to the problem and just focused on Curse Energy.

Cursed Energy is just a manifestation/product of negative stress. Address the stress and everything should go well.

*The sad thing about this tho is how practically impossible this is. In real life, education about mental health and mental health care are major issues all over the world. They are difficult to address for a variety of reasons ranging from justified to outright infuriating.

JJK, sadly, reflects some real life issues (traditionalist old gen stifling and snuffing out the hopeful youth). So, causal treatment may be nothing more than a beautiful pipe dream.

[vierandancer]

She had been holding herself together very well, all things considered.

Even after Fandaniel’s cackle of triumph, even after that horrific, crimson vision of the end of the Source – FINALLY, that voice had cried – Meiko had clutched at her heart and carried on. Shaken? Of course. She trembled all the way to that strange ark structure on the moon, so much so that even Y’shtola had noticed, but still she carried on.

It was shortly after meeeting the Loporrits that she had her first little BREAK – although it came in the form of laughter. Laughter at the absurdity of it all. Small rabbits on the moon, placed there by Hydaelyn, created by Hydaelyn; these fuzzy little geniuses whose diet consisted of nothing but (admittedly delicious) carrots, having been in contact with the Sharlayan Forum for centuries… Centuries! The image of the twins’ stoic father trying to hold a conversation with wee bossy Livingway?

She had to sit down for a bit, but ultimately, she was all right. She was still all right.

Then came Thavnair and all the horrors of the beginning of the Final Days. It was too similar to what had transpired on the First, and she knew that G’raha recognized that, too. It wasn’t – it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like a true victory, not until the end when they watched Vtra present himself to his people.

Estinien was right. Ysayle would have been so happy to witness it. It took all of Mei’s willpower not to obsess over the point that she never would.

She really had come quite far. Part of her lamented the fact that Fray no longer lingered in her mind to commend her. Her own self-congratulations would just have to do.

And then she returned to the First.

Standing by the Cabinet of Curiosity, Mei could not help but reflect on how she had once viewed the First with quiet disdain – with jealousy, even, after watching her brother and fellow Scions fall in love with a world that had stolen them from their own. But now she was just as, if not more enamored with this world than the Source – and seeing it thriving and peaceful only solidified her desire to save it once more.

In truth, she was unsure whether or not Elidibus would want to be of any assistance. What a surprise it was, then, to hear his revelations – and his offer to send her into the past at his own life’s (?) cost.

She had hated him once. Truly, fiercely wished him dead for all that he inflicted upon this world and her loved ones. But now it was just pity. Pity and maybe the smallest amount of forgiveness. Maybe.

The trip to the First was not meant to last long, and yet she knew this would be a whole separate adventure the moment she walked through the portal and thrown into the river of time.

How the fuck am I supposed to get back again? A question she should have asked, she supposed, before Elidibus bid her leave. But as she, little more than a small shade, tried to regain her bearings in the world that once was, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

Emet-selch. And Hythlodaeus! She was content and perhaps even eager to follow them as a ghost, but suddenly they could see her and even brought her into proper existence before them. A familiar. They thought she was a familiar of Azem!

“Aye! I’m – ah, m’here to learn more about Elpis,” she gave a shaky nod, trying not to seem too suspicious or un-familiar-like. “Azem sent me in his stead.”

Emet-selch made a noise of disgust. “What is that manner of speaking of yours? Are you defective?”

Bristling, she glared at him, but Hythlodaeus stepped in to diffuse the situation before she could speak again. On one hand, she was prepared to punch the snarky bastard in the throat – but on the other, he was right. Her accent likely did not even exist, did it? Perhaps it would be better if she spoke less…

That was impossible, however. Despite trying to be as invisible as she could, there were endless questions to answer and ask and people to meet. Meiko tried to absorb everything she could while not looking too out of place, but that only led to more introspection:

Again, she had to confess that the original forms of Emet-selch and now even Fandaniel (!!!) had been decent people. Good people, even, and Hythodaeus even sweeter in the flesh as he had been a mere reflection. It was like her original time spent on the First all over again – that inner struggle over growing attached. Meteion, too, had tugged at her heartstrings as quickly as any other child she had come across on her journey had. And Elpis itself? She would be lying if she denied that that was beautiful.

But this paradise and these people were long dead and gone. She was merely a visitor and this world had already met its unfortunate end. So long as she kept telling herself this, surely she would be fine. Surely.

“Are you from the future?”

Venat, however, saw right through her. Meiko had been so taken aback that she could not possibly think of a convincing lie, and then the other two were pressing her as well. She tried, instead, to simply say nothing. Elidibus had already told her that this timeline’s fate had been sealed, hadn’t he? There was no point in telling them. And how could she? How could she look at them all and explain their abysmal fates?

The answer was that she could – but only through tears. Tears that had been building up since before Garlemald. Tears for those lost and those who yet suffered, tears for those she had left behind on the Source – tears even for those she had met in this time, in this very room.

Emet-selch stormed out, and she couldn’t blame him. Hythlodaeus pursued. Emotionally drained and ashamed for folding under the pressure, afraid for what her actions might lead to, Meiko sat there with her face in her hands for what felt like a long time.

“Meiko.” Venat was still there, however, and she gave the Viera’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Fear not. As tragic as your story was, we yet still have reason to hope. Our meeting was surely planned; I am confident that sharing this with us was what you were meant to do.”

Meiko exhaled slowly, lowering her hands from her face after a quick rub at her eyes. Was this what she was meant to do? Blubber and sob and spoil everything? It didn’t feel like the proper path, and yet as Venat spoke, she somehow felt reassured.

Maybe this was meant to be. Maybe it wasn’t. Regardless, she would just have to keep forging ahead, wouldn’t she? No matter what it took, she needed to find a way to save the Source. At the moment, she was the only one that possibly could.

“…Right,” she looked up finally, letting out a long-held breath. “Whats next, then?”

[viciousoverlord]

@g2droid

A machine able to think for itself, it was almost like he was witnessing and interacting with one of the creations of Cassidy or Samantha. But, anything the two women had created, this machine, was nothing compared to most of the things they had done.

Still, curiosity would get the better of him. This is a planet full of human, and yet. Someone was smart enough to have this sort of technology? How was this planet so underdeveloped then? Could this person be even smarter than the bride of the prince of the saiyan of this universe?

Not that he had knowledge on anything, the blue-haired woman did. But most people called her and her father geniuses. Geniuses that could not compare to the twin, though. However, he supposed, making a radar that can detect the energy of the Dragon Ball was not something one should ignore.

The saiyan would land on the ground carefully, and stare at the machine.

— Impressive. Who made you?