#i really need to find my drawing tablet again but that's a task for another day

[starfolk7]

Gnawing at my enclosure because I wanna draw Charlotte so badly but that requires energy and a pencil I can't find hhhhhhh

[sloaaaa]

i just need to put my thoughts about my ipad somewhere rq

ik i really hated the switch from csp to procreate at first but it's really grown on me now! i find that using my ipad is Way better for my posture and ever since i swapped to it i haven't had to wear my wrist brace yet :0 even when drawing for hours at a time! and i never feel the strain on my shoulders and neck anymore!!

i'm really glad i decided to give the ipad and procreate a chance, especially now that i'm in college again and pretty much always on the move. it's nice to have my ipad w me when i have those two hour breaks in between classes -w-

it was really scary at first how expensive everything was :'3 and also i kinda really suck at adjusting to changes so i really hated,, pretty much everything about the ipad and procreate when i first picked it up. it felt like a huge waste w how unsatisfied i felt whenever i used it. but bit by bit i started to really see how nice it all was :]]

the very first thing jumping at me being the setup time. when it came to csp and my laptop there were so many steps to just opening the program that it became a whole chore task in itself. i had to go to my assigned Computer Area in the house, i had to open up the lappytoppy, i had to sign in, to power on the drawing tablet, to wait for everything to load, to open csp, hit new file and figure out all the canvas settings. but when it came to the ipad the whole boot up process felt so streamlined, i just use my fingerprint then open up procreate and open up my template (i always have duplicates of templates ready for this exact purpose) then i'm ready to go right away.

another thing was the lasso tool. csp would close your lasso as soon as you lift your pen but procreate would let you draw your selection in multiple strokes and i really loved that.

anyway idk what i wanted to do w this post ahah. i hope y'all are able to also find a setup that works for you :] ty for reading mwah

[guzsdaily]

Another "return", another "change"

Day 49 - Dec 24th, 12.023

Today I, procrastinated, but also organized the tasks for this week. It's again the end of the year, and after December 31st, it will be another "return to productivity" for be, seeing how I didn't work so much on my projects these pasts 2 to 3 weeks. I don't plan to make a lot of changes for my organization workflow that much, even more on Obsidian, the main blocks are already done, so there are just some small system to do, but said systems are more about the collecting information, note-taking, etc. part of things. Now, something I want to work on more is my Operating System.

My current OS

Using Arch, btw

"I use Arch, btw" for around a year now, and being honest, it's great! I made my switch to Linux not a lot more than a year ago also, but in the first months I tried using Zorin OS, but switched to Arch Linux not long after, because of Davinci Resolve being easier to install on it [and] because of the Arch User Repository (AUR) [itself] and the Arch Wiki, both which really helped me a lot during this first year of going full-time Linux.

For most of the year, the experience was great and there weren't a lot of problems, I used the Archcraft distribution, so didn't to bang my head installing the OS, the desktop environment (DE) was really customizable, and was a normal experience for someone who was using Windows (so floating windows, mouse-centric, etc.). Developing on Linux was, and is, something so fucking good also, and I don't see myself going back to Windows any time, if any time soon.

Even using my drawing tablet, the HS610, didn't have a lot of problems even when it's not that well-supported, and being honest, I think that using Linux and most importantly Krita for drawing, made me draw a lot better also.

Customizing

After using Linux for half a year, I wanted to customize it more. Without counting, changing things like colors and themes in my DE, I didn't make that much to make my operating system my own. So after switching to NeoVim and learning about how much customizing your environment specifically for you can help your productivity, I wanted to make it to the OS level.

Without going into many details, I switched from XFCE (X11) to Hyprland (Wayland), so I could migrate to the new paradigm that Linux is going nowadays, have a more performant and responsive desktop and also a tiling window manager, so I could make my OS more keyboard-driven. Also, switching to a different, not configured, desktop environment, opened the opportunity for me to customized and understand it more deeply. With that all, I created a system for switching between different types of work environment, something which I gave a small glance in Day 25: "[A little taste of] The joy of Linux", and a lot of keystrokes and things like that to move on my computer without the mouse.

The problem: Stability

For most of the time, and to this day, most of the experience was okay and really improved my workflow and how and how fast I use, navigate, and interact with my computer. However, switching from X11 to Wayland didn't help a lot in the terms of compatibility with some applications like Discord and my drawing tablet. I was able to fix the problems most of the time, and my main work, programming, wasn't affected at all. But, if you don't know, Arch Linux is a rolling releases distribution, and somehow for some reason, and/or because most of the fixes that I made were glue together in some way or another, they stopped working, primarily Discord not being able to screen share, but also some visual glitches that happen from time to time.

And being honest, most of the problems are fixable easily, and I choose this path going to Arch Linux, because when I fix something in my computer, I also end up learning something about it and my OS. However, I'm trying to find a job now, I'm trying to work day-to-day now, and needing to fix something that broke because of an update, without being able to just roll back and work on it later, will not help at all. Not only that, but I want to customize even more my computer, so if I could make said customizations reproducible in other machines and/or when I need to reinstall my OS time to time, I could save a lot of time.

So if you are someone in the Linux community, you already know where I'm going with this.

Going to NixOS

I have been hearing and orbiting the topic of NixOS for a time now. If you don't know about NixOS, I'm going to be honest, I'm not able to explain everything to you here, and if you know little to none about Linux also... what the fuck are you doing here? Nonetheless, it has what I need nowadays: it is more stable, and can roll-up the entire system pretty much to a previous version if anything breaks; it isn't a rolling release distro; and it has something which I didn't see in any other OS, which is the ability to configure everything about your computer in one (or multiple) main configuration file. Not only that, but also copy that file(s) to another computer with NixOS, and reproduce everything about your setup easily without moving dot files around.

So of course it is a no-brainer for me.

And yes, I know that NixOS is not the best for beginners like me, but thankfully I think I found some videos and tutorials to help me start and have a working system like I want in some week(s). I can always work and customize more as time goes. The only things which I already know are going to be a challenge is its wiki not having the best documentation, even worse for beginners, so I will probably use a lot of Reddit, Discord, and even the Arch Wiki a lot in some problems that I encounter. I hope that with the new paradigm that I want to work on mitigates a lot of problems that I encounter, because I plan to use a lot more Flatpak to install day-to-day applications and use containers on coding projects, I want to try to isolate more the things on my computer, so they don't end up affecting each other that much, but that's a talk for another day.

I will keep posting about this transition in the coming days, probably, so prepare for some Linux-related entries.

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Today's artists & creative things

Song: Moonlight Sonata (3rd Movement) - by Beethoven, remix by Meganeko This song doesn't stop playing in my head nowadays.

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Copyright (c) 2023-present Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello <contact.guz013@gmail.com>

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0) License

[andatsea]

XP-Pen Artist Pro 24 Review

I drew this with an XP-Pen Artist Pro 24, which the team at XP-Pen kindly sent to me for review. I’ve had to opportunity to use this tablet on-and-off over the course of the past several weeks, and while there were a few issues my overall impression is positive.

Unboxing / Contents

Apart from the 24” display tablet itself, the package comes with the usual cabling peripherals, plus some bonus extras. If your machine supports a USB-C connection for display, you’ll only need the one cable (plus the power connection). Otherwise, there’s a HDMI and a USB-C to USB converter included as well.

The extras include: an additional stylus, a one-size-fits-all artist’s glove, and a microfiber cloth.

The container for the stylus twists open to reveal 8 extra stylus nibs. Its cap can also be removed to use as a stylus holder.

Driver (Installation & General Use)

There were a few issues with installation, mostly tied to interactions between the driver, Windows 10 and Windows Ink.

Initially, brush strokes were offset from the stylus’ point of contact with the screen by about 3-4 centimetres when attempting to draw in Photoshop CS6. Random straight strokes also occurred frequently. This same problem did not occur in MS Paint or Photoshop CC 2019. This was fixed by changing the UI scaling setting for the monitor in Windows settings from 125% (which was apparently the default) to 100%.

Initially, brush strokes had no pen pressure in Photoshop CC 2019. Photoshop CS6, on the other hand, did (but suffered from the previous offset problem). This was fixed by turning on the Windows Ink setting in the XP-Pen driver menu. So in other words: CC 2019 needs Windows Ink on to recognise pen pressure, while CS6 didn’t, but was affected by UI scaling.

Interestingly, if Windows Task Manager was in focus and Windows Ink was not enabled in driver settings, stylus input was not recognised at all. There may be other programs that have this issue, but this was the only one I encountered so far.

I will say that I’ve had many problems with Wacom drivers interacting badly with Windows Ink and other things in the past before, so these types of issues are not exclusive to the XP-Pen drivers.

I’m currently using driver version 3.0.5, a beta build that has a lovely UI; it’s clear and laid out well. I did also try version 1.6.4 initially, which was fine — the UI for that version was similar to the layout you find with Wacom drivers.

Apart from the issues during installation that required troubleshooting, I haven’t had many major complaints with the driver in day-to-day use, I do think that there are a few areas for improvement, however.

The driver stops working correctly each time the computer is set to sleep and woken up again. To fix this the driver must be exited from the system tray and then relaunched.

There also doesn’t seem to be a way to bind WIN+SHIFT+ARROW to any of the express keys. WIN+SHIFT+ARROW (left or right arrow) is the Windows shortcut to quickly move a focused window to another monitor, so it’s something I use a lot if I’m on a multi-monitor setup. Unfortunately, attempting to set this shortcut in the express keys menu will simply move the actual driver window over to the other monitor while the custom input is not properly recognised in the text field.

The driver does offer a “switch monitor” option for the express keys that when clicked will transfer your stylus input to another monitor, which is extremely useful.

Screen

At 24” with a 2560x1440p QHD resolution, images are sharp and crisp even when viewed from a close range while drawing. Genuinely, it feels great to paint on based off this aspect alone.

The colour temperature is set to 6500K by default in the the driver settings. I think initially it felt just a touch too saturated, but overall I’m fairly happy with the colour display.

The monitor has touch-sensitive inputs on the top right corner: a -/+ for quickly adjusting the brightness, a menu for further settings, and power. I found myself using these to adjust the brightness throughout the day frequently. The power input requires a few seconds of continued contact from your finger to react, which prevents you from accidentally brushing it and turning the monitor on/off.

The monitor comes with a built-in stand. I found it easy to adjust to different viewing angles and also incredibly sturdy. I had no problems leaning on the monitor while drawing.

The monitor also comes with a pre-applied anti-glare screen protector. I wasn’t bothered by it and it seems to be holding out well after several weeks of use. I think the screen itself definitely needs the additional anti-glare, as being a display tablet means that it’s significantly more reflective than my main display.

Stylus

My first impression of the stylus was that it’s lighter in comparison to the Wacom styluses that I’m used to — there is very little to no weighting on the back end of the stylus, which makes it feel noticeably different when gripped. To be honest, though, I forgot about it when I was actually painting. Still, I would prefer a bit more weighting because I do think it makes the stylus more comfortable to hold overall for long periods of time.

There’s also no eraser nib, but I’ve personally never used those on Wacom tablets (I always use shortcuts to switch between brush and eraser instead) so this was a non-issue for me.

The two shortcut buttons on the side of the stylus sit quite flat to the surface, so I think they would be less likely to bother people who don’t use them. I use them a lot, however, and found that they were still easy to click despite being quite flat.

Unfortunately however I ran into a curious issue with using one of the stylus buttons to activate the eyedropper tool. When the “alt” key is mapped to one of the triggers on the stylus, activation of the eyedropper function in Photoshop (tested in both CS6 and CC 2019) is somewhat unreliable. That is, when the “alt” key is held down, the expected result is that once you tap the stylus on the canvas, a “mouse-click” will be triggered and the eyedropper will activate. While this works perfectly fine if you hold down “alt” from the keyboard (or hold down an “alt” that’s bound to one of the 20 express keys), when you hold “alt” from a stylus trigger I found that tapping quickly with the stylus only seemed to activate the eyedropper about 50% of the time. In order to activate it more reliably, I had to press harder and longer with the stylus, which can become tiring and slowed down my painting process. I also found that frequently, pressing down longer would lock me into the eyedropping function until I clicked the trigger key again.

After submitting feedback about this XP-Pen’s R&D department, I was informed that this issue occurs because the stylus is only able to send one message to the tablet at a time. Pressing “alt” on the stylus and trying to “click” at the same time counts as two messages, which may interact with each other unexpectedly. This is why it sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t.

The buttons seem to otherwise work completely fine for any other functions that don’t require the stylus to send two simultaneous messages, so unless you’re like me and like to bind “alt” to a stylus trigger, this won’t affect you.

Pen Pressure & Activation Force

Most current-gen tablets flash a big number for the pen pressure levels as a selling point. Having used tablets with 512, 2k, 4k and 8k levels of pressure sensitivity, I’d say I noticed the biggest difference when switching from 512 to 2k, but in my opinion beyond 2k the change is minimal and has no real impact on the way I draw. The XP-Pen Artist Pro 24 comes with 8192 levels of sensitivty, which is a very big number, but in practical application all I can say is that it works the way I expect it to and I don’t have any complaints regarding the transition between pressure levels on the default linear pressure curve.

More importantly I did notice that the IAF (initial activation force) was not as low as I would have liked. Very light input is not recognised, or only partially recognised before dropping off and on again. In a practical sense this doesn’t actually impact me through most of (perhaps 97%) of the painting process, but it did give me pause once in a while when I wanted to make a really light stroke and had to adjust my method. The drivers for this tablet do come with a pressure curve you can adjust to your preferences, so this can help a little, although after some tests I preferred to leave mine on the default setting.

Summary of Drawing Experience (tl;dr)

I think the mark of a good tool or piece of hardware is that it does not draw attention to itself during the course of its use. An ideal drawing experience allows me to be fully immersed in the act of drawing without having my focus shifted to dealing with the tool. With this in mind the XP-Pen Artist Pro performed very well for the most part, but was held back by a couple of issues.

Pros:

The monitor resolution honestly feels great to look at; the pixel density means that I can basically forget about pixels even with my face positioned closer to the screen.

The parallax between the tip of the stylus and the actual position of input was very minimal and basically not noticeable for me, especially after the simple calibration process offered by the driver.

At normal room temperature (say up to about mid-20’s celsius) the monitor screen stays impressively cool to the touch and I was never bothered by resting my drawing hand on its surface even when painting for long sessions.

The 20 express keys and 2 roller rings are extremely helpful and I actually found myself using all of them, despite initially thinking that I’d only need half of them. The keys are also comfortable and responsive to click (which sounds like it should obviously be so, but having used some Intuos iterations in the past which had some very annoying-to-click express keys, I don’t take this feature for granted anymore).

Cons:

The driver needs to be restarted everytime the computer wakes from sleep in order to work.

Higher IAF was noticeable when very light strokes were desirable. Also, the input will on rare occasions glitch by performing a completely straight max opacity + max brush size stroke. This seemed to happen primarily when I was trying to get light strokes to register. (It didn’t happen often enough to bother me much since it’s just a quick undo, but it did happen enough times that I noticed it.)

The issue with eyedropping using “alt” mapped to a stylus trigger as detailed above. Quite unlucky for someone like me who has over a decade of muscle memory for this particular mapping.

Overall, as I said at the beginning, my impression of the tablet is positive. While I think it has room for improvement when it comes to driver performance and the initial activation force especially, it also has a lot to offer at a highly competitive price point ($900USD at retail), and it would’ve been amazing if something like this had been available to me back when I first started digital painting. As I do enjoy using it for the most part I’ll probably continue to use it on-and-off in future.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Okay, this one might be a bit vague, but I'm going to give it a shot:

So, hacker Zed. He's interested in the glitches, he wants to know what's going on, curious as always...but this time, it's a little bit different. His friends were hurt. His curiosity has teeth now.

Zedaph is Impostor the first round he plays. His partner gets voted out early, but he isn't interested in killing anyone to make up for lost time. No, the game has given him a weapon, and he intends to use it - not on another player, but on the map itself. This knife will open reality for him. It will flay the walls and the code and lay it all out for his examination, if he asks it to.

All he needs to do is halt tasks for long enough to perform his dissection.

(that's just a really long-winded way of saying "Zedaph uses the Impostor weapons against the map somehow? Is that anything?" If it isn't anything (or if it's too specific) feel free to ignore!)

hi sorry this is shorter than usual, i had a good idea but i just couldnt fill a full 1000+ word fic this time :( hope it's still good

(edit: @shadeswift99 sorry just wanted to make sure you saw this :))

“Guys, don’t listen to Endless,” Tango says firmly. “I did NOT vent. He must’ve killed Brody and then vented to medbay and blamed me to cover it up.”

“No, Endless is clear,” Astro says. “I couldn’t get on the scanner with him on it.”

“Then he’s lovers with the actual imposter. Or he’s mistaken. Point is: I didn’t vent.”

Skizz snickers. “Tango, I think you just need to give up at this point.”

Tango huffs and crosses his arms. “Fine. Fine. Vote me out, then. Vote me the heck out so I can do my tasks quicker.”

After Tango has been voted out, Zedaph heads back to navigation and stands at the download panel, intending to pretend he hadn’t finished it before the meeting was called. His imposter partner is gone already. There’s no way he’ll win this round on his own.

...so what if he does something interesting?

He takes out his knife and draws it over the wall horizontally. Immediately, the code is forcibly opened up for him. After a minute or so of looking, Zedaph disables both the meeting system and the only task he’s sure at least one of his new friends has.

As he goes to admin to double check this, he’s met by Impulse just at the edge of cafeteria. “Zedaph, hey. Are you having trouble with any tasks?”

“No,” responds Zedaph. “Why?”

“Skizz and Endless are both trying to upload data but it’s not working for some reason,” Impulse explains. “Do you have that task?”

Zedaph shakes his head. “I don’t, no. What do you think is wrong?”

“I’ve no idea, but hopefully we can get it fixed without Brody and Etho.”

“Why them?” asks Zedaph curiously.

“Oh, they’re the only two who can access the game’s code. Hopefully we don’t have to do that to get this fixed, or there’ll be no chance of winning on tasks.”

Zedaph nods, deciding not to mention that that’s exactly what he wants. “I see. Well, I’m gonna get on with the rest of my tasks.”

“Okay.” Impulse pats him on the shoulder. “Stay safe, man.”

“Thanks.”

Zedaph heads to medbay and finds Astro standing on the scanner.

“Hi,” Zedaph says quietly.

“Hey.” Astro finishes his scan and hops off. “There we go. Didn’t get to finish before the meeting. You scanning?”

“Um…” Zedaph almost panics but quickly thinks to check his tablet for his list of fake tasks. “I have the other one in here. Whatever it is.”

“Oh, the sample. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Zedaph waits until Astro leaves before shutting the doors and again opening up the code. There’s secrets all over the map, but none interest him. There’s nothing unique here, nothing interesting that can be used in an actual game.

He glances down at his knife. Perhaps he can make something.

So he closes his eyes and concentrates on the code.

Give me something I can use, he tells it. Give me something an imposter can use. Something only a random imposter will know is there. Something only I will remember from round to round.

A pause.

A long silence.

Nothing happens.

Disappointed, Zedaph leaves medbay and heads back down towards admin, intending to free the upload task and let the round continue.

But as he does, something calls to him from lower down in the ship. So he continues walking past admin and into storage.

And that’s when he spots it.

A door with a metal wheel next to it, neither of which was there before. A door that would’ve been there on a normal ship but was excluded from this ship because of the game mechanics. A door that is unmistakable in its design and purpose.

“Hey, Zedaph.”

Turning to face the person who’s just entered storage, a smile spreads over Zedaph’s face. The kind of smile that if you knew Zedaph, you would be worried about what he’s planning.

“Hi, Endless. Wanna see something cool?”

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

[suncaptor]

So we're having a s7/s8 breakdown on this fine Saturday? Good. May I interest you in theese thoughts (this whole ask might include some wild speculation, I hope you're up for it, if no, please ignore and I will crawl back to my basement, also this got SO LONG I AM ALMOST ASHAMED, but I need to exchange thoughts with someone agsfsdghf):

Amelia was the original blurry wife for Sam. I remember at the time s8 was airing the fandom wasn't really fond of her because she wasn't very special as a character, she felt kind of boring (obviously the wincest/bibro side hated her for different reasons lol) and unfortunately she was very forgettable. She was literally Just Some Woman, a blank canvas. (idk if you agree but this is what I think). But. I think she was set up to be Sam's endgame if season 8 was the last one. He gets what he wanted - out of the hunter's life, white picket fence, a wife and a dog. And it was confirmed somewhere that she was written off due to the hate she received (spn fandom being spn fadom I am leaving this without comment). So that is why I believe she was gonna be the Blurry Wife of season 8, but she was written off....

....."But hey!", you might say, "Sam was the one doing the trials in season 8! So how can she be his endgame if he was going to lock up Hell and die?". I have an answer! Sam doesn't start the trials until 8x14, four episodes after he broke up with Amelia and chose Dean in 8x10. Up until then it was agreed that Dean was going to be the one to do the trials, it was changed last minute in the show (when Sam ends up killing the hellhound in 8x14) and part of me wonders how much it might reflect the last minute change in real life. counterpoint: spn got a renewal on February 11th 2013 and 8x14 was shot November 30th - December 11th 2012 so renewal is not the case, maybe just a general change of direction for the season? idk, BUT......

.... but maybe? now I am thinking. So they make Sam break up with Amelia to get rid of her and so he can do the trials. and he is going to die. so basically once again Sam is going to die in the finale as a sacrifice (like in Swan Song) (oh I just remembered 8x23 was titled Sacrifice. NICE). And now back to Dean and everything romantic that happened that I mentioned in those tags. Let's say they keep the 'I love you' in 8x17 (I am still writing all of this under the assumption that season 8 was going to be the last one). And Cas disappears. And now guess what. He is not in 8x18. He is not in 8x19 but you know who is? NAOMI with this epic line: "And yet you haven't warded this place against us. I know. You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way. I know you don't want to believe it, Dean, but we're on the same side – shutting the Gates of Hell, bringing Castiel in from the cold. Take a moment. Think about what I've said." literally WHAAAAT, what were we supposed to think at this point?!?!? IF THE 'I LOVE YOU' was kept in 8x17?! can you imagine?! (also sidenote: 8x19 is a buckleming episode where they kill off Benny. epic highs and lows, etc.)

So they aren't reunited until 8x22 (i mean last seconds of 8x21 but it doesn't really matter). And Dean is angry, and hurt and we have this piece of dialogue:

CASTIEL: Dean, I can go with you. A FEW SECONDS PASS BEFORE SPEAKING AGAIN Dean. I'm sorry. DEAN: For what? CASTIEL: For everything. DEAN" Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us? CASTIEL: Yes. DEAN: Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me. CASTIEL: Yes. DEAN: Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass. CASTIEL: Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing. DEAN: Yeah, you always do.

still with me? ok. so then Cas is sad and wants to apologize and goes out to buy Dean beer and pie but Metatron finds him and they go on their little quest together. blah blah blah, Sam and Dean catch Crowley, they are in the church, Sam in beginning the ritual on Crowley when wild Cas appears and asks Dean for help because... he needs a Cupid's Bow for Metatron to lock up Heaven. and he asks for Dean's help. I mean at this moment I think everyone would have gotten the HINT. Dean leaves Sam with Crowley to do the trial by himself (he chooses to go with Cas this is important because the last time he saw Cas he was angry at him).

And then we have that infamous bar scene where Dean might still be hurt but now he is afraid of losing Cas AGAIN due to Heaven about to be locked up and he is like "ummm are you sure? you're -- you're boarding up Heaven, and you're locking the door behind you. you did a lot of damage up there, aren't you afraid the angels might kill you?" and Cas is like stone cold "yeah they might and I am sure about doing this" :( and then they witness as two dudes fall in love in the bar. hint hint again.

quick cut to Crowley who says: "Don't we all -- you, me -- we deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved". hint hint Love is a whole theme of this episode

AND THEN Castiel's grace ends up being the last ingredient to cast out all angels from Heaven after a nephilim and cupid's bow. And it's brushed off with a no-homo line by Metatron: "I want you to live this new life to the fullest. Find a wife. Make babies." SURE. oh to get my hands on the original first drafts of those episodes... a girl can dream.

in conclusion I wonder what the ending would be here. Dean and Cas eventually reunite and finally talk it out? one can argue: "but why Cas didn't confess back when they were having their moment in the bar? :/" well, because, as he tells us himself, (actually he says it to Kevin prior to he bar scene, but it's easy to understand that he is also talking about himself here): "There is no out. Only duty. You are a Prophet of the Lord, always and forever... ...until the day you cease to exist, and then another Prophet takes your place. Now, are you clear as to the task before you? Then do it, and let's go." (now don't think about this line and Dean's quiet: "Are you sure? Aren't you afraid?" in the bar and Castiel's "Yeah I'm sure")

so then they finally reunite, both human and they find each other and Cas is like "My grace was the special last spell ingredient because ..................." and they would address the Crypt Scene confession finally, I guess. They arrive at the Church and Sam is dead (according to what we know now (if a soul was in hell it will always end up in hell thing) maybe he went to hell. maybe it's locked up but he is the one in charge Rowena-style?). So of course Dean is a wreck but he has Cas by his side. Holding hands as they bury Sam. I don't know but I want to know SO BADLY what they had originally planned here. I would literally willingly sell my kidney to read Carver's mind.

I AM DEEPLY SORRY FOR THIS ASK I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD ILY <3333333333333

okay I have NO CLUE what they meant to do or the validity of the assumptions, but this is SO interesting and I agree with all your analysis of canon, except I also don't think that Cas like. understood at all or ever thought Dean's "I love you" meant what Dean did at this point xnkslfkdkdkskd so I see your draw to him specifying duty given his probable suicide rather than stay with Dean like he wants.

I also do wonder what they were doing with Sam in s8 it's very disjointed and out of character, so your guesses are VERY interesting. Amelia like made no sense Sam made no sense or the way Sam treated Benny (which I think was set up for Sam decided to choose hunting with Dean over her and Dean about Benny, so I don't know if she was meant to be endgame ever? but I have nooo clue what they could have meant for because the plot is all over the place in s8). anyways INTERESTING. I love all your thoughts thanks for sending this ask 💞💞

[lilfellasblog]

Truly *Nothing* Is Spookier Than Self-Care

Summary: Janus absolutely despises being accepted by Thomas and the Light Sides. He can’t help but notice how they very much do not put themselves first. He decides to change that.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. This story comes from this ask by @foreverfangirlingalways! Thank you so much for the inspiration and the wonderful prompt! I hope I did it justice!

TW: very light angst, like almost no angst. Small amounts of stress and mild flailing to adapt when the plan doesn't go perfectly.

Word count: 2648

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Although Janus was grateful to be accepted by his Host, an aspect of such that he absolutely loved was seeing just how dysfunctional the Light Sides were in their self-care. They certainly had a great deal of work to do, but they held themselves to such high standards, they seemed to constantly move around every waking moment. Janus had been attempting to get the Light Sides more focused on taking care of themselves throughout the day, but the key word here is attempting. They’d thank him for his suggestion and promise they’d do it later.

Janus wondered why he was the one stuck with Deceit as a name.

It was now time for more drastic measures that he hoped wouldn’t land him with a giant frog again. He knew he’d have to go one at a time if he wanted any chance of success, so he decided to target each Side according to the level of concern he had for them. Naturally, this meant Roman would be his first vict- *cough* recipient.

He found Roman precisely where he’d expect him: inside his en suite gym, hair damp with perspiration.

“In the gym again? Don’t you have anything else to do with your spare time?” Janus asked innocently.

Roman started and placed the weight he’d been lifting on the ground. “Greetings Janus! And I do, there’s just always room for improvement!”

Hm, direct won’t work with him in this. Interesting. “I was wondering if you might help me with a sewing project, although I see you’re busy.”

Roman grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face. “I’m never too busy to assist a Side in need! What is it you’d like my assistance on?”

Janus hummed. “I was hoping to experiment with a few costume ideas for Halloween. I think a pirate might be suitable for me.”

Roman grinned, excitement beginning to shine in his eyes. “Indeed! Allow me a few minutes to wash up, I’ll join you!” He waved his hand. “You’ll find two sewing stations in my room!” He pranced off to the bathroom without another word.

“Don’t take too long!” Janus called after him, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait much longer than an hour for the prince to get his appearance in order.

He only had to wait a half hour before Roman joined him in the room, hair still slightly damp. Janus internally cheered when Roman didn’t have his ridiculously complicated prince uniform on, instead wearing a red sweater with pumpkins stitched on.

“Roman, would you mind trying on the clothes once I’ve finished them? We have similar body types, although you’re more muscular, and my current outfit is simply a bear to get on and off.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “I… I suppose I could, are you certain you want me to do that?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

After another moment of prolonged shock, Roman pulled himself together and struck a pose, exaggerated grin on his face. “Well far be it from a prince to forsake a Side in their hour of need!”

Janus smiled, relieved. “Wonderful.” He summoned his nearly-completed pirate costume: tight black pants, calf-high boots, and a billowy shirt with a deep V-neck. “I’m just about to finish these, would you mind taking a look at the seams on the outside of the leg and in the armpit of the shirt? I want to make sure I’ve pinned those in a way that won’t pull.”

Roman and Janus discussed the different options they had for stitching, and once they’d decided Janus had Roman put in the stitching for the pants while he finished stitching the shirt. Janus was pleased that Roman had decided to go for a more complex stitch; he knew the Side enjoyed getting absorbed in a task, and that he enjoyed sewing. Sure enough, after an hour, he looked over and saw Roman’s irises sparkling in red and gold, tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth. 4 hours later, and they’d both finished.

Janus stretched, watching Roman bounce slightly in his seat from excitement. “Well Roman, we did good work. Would you try these on?”

Roman hesitated, then forced himself to smile, Janus watching him carefully. “Certainly! Are you sure you don’t want to?”

“I am, I’d hate to keep getting in and out of my outfit, especially if changes need to be made.”

Roman inhaled deeply and took the clothes, holding them carefully. “I shall not dilly-dally then! I shall return soon!”

Janus plastered a wide smile on his face. “Wonderful!”

That was another thing, the sheer amount of smiling the Light Sides did and how he found himself going along with it. It made his face hurt at time from the sheer amount of smiling.

Roman emerged, posture stiff and forced but proud. Janus raised both eyebrows.

“Roman, you look wonderful! Stand in front of the mirror, won’t you?”

The prince shuffled over, eyes darting between himself and the ground.

Janus appraised the Side before him, and was relieved he wouldn’t have to lie about a single thing. “Goodness Roman, you like incredible! The skin-tight pants look wonderful on your legs, and the shirt highlights your figure! I must say, I’m quite jealous. I’ve been also considering going as a bard this year, why don’t you just take this costume? I shows off all of your muscles and your broad shoulders especially!”

Roman looked at him, surprised. “Are you certain? You’ve spent so long on this, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I am, I’ll enjoy knowing you’re enjoying something I made. Come now, Thomas is tired, and it’s best to look in the distance to prevent eye strain. Would you like to watch some Disney movies?”

Roman frowned and looked back towards where his en suite gym was. “I really should be getting back to a workout…”

“Nonsense, you’ve been working out so much, and you’ve been working hard in other areas. You’ll be more productive after some rest.”

Janus let out a breath when Roman shrugged and summoned a large television. He got some beanbags and snacks for them, and Janus watched as Roman slowly relaxed and got engrossed in the movies, eagerly agreeing to watch one after the other. Once dinner rolled around, Janus suggested a famILY movie night, which got Patton on board, which meant everyone would attend. Roman had changed back into his pumpkin sweater, and Janus was the last one awake, pleased to see the other Sides asleep, surrounded by snacks and illuminated by the glow of the television. He sank out to his room, and planned his next intervention.

/////

Janus waited a week so as to not draw any suspicion to himself, and found Patton in the kitchen. He was typing furiously on a tablet, Thomas currently working through whether or not he should use his celebrity status to get ahead in line so he could get back to editing a new video faster so he could get that out to his fans so he could-

He pulled his mind back from Patton’s, reeling slightly.

You need this more than I thought.

Janus backed up a bit, then walked more heavily to announce his presence to Patton. Patton looked up at him happily.

“Heya Janus! What can I do ya for?”

Janus smiled easily, the cheerful Side great at lifting moods. “I see you’re in the middle of something, but once you get a moment, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me bake something? It’s a skill I’d like to acquire.”

Patton lit up. “Well sure!! Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be right with you!”

Janus set a tea kettle to boil and put a mint tea bag in Patton’s mug and a black tea bag in his own. Just as Patton sighed and set the tablet on the table, the kettle went off and Janus poured the water before Patton could do it. He didn’t miss how Patton rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.

He gently set the mug of tea in front of Patton. Patton lifted and smelled it, closing his eyes.

“Mmmmmm, mint, my favorite!”

“Oh really? Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Patton looked up at him knowingly. “You’re good at guessing,” he teased.

“Thank you for noticing. I’ve noticed that Thomas’ Sides have been quite busy lately. Do you think a chocolate beet cake would go over well?”

“Do I?!” Patton asked, eyes shining and the edges of his irises glowing light blue.

Patton donned plastic gloves and got to work peeling and grating the beets, while Janus combined the wet and dry ingredients in separate bowls. He asked Patton for reassurance on occasion, despite being confident in his abilities. He let Patton take over once it was time to combine everything and put it in the oven.

Patton tapped his finger against his chin. “Hmmmmm… what kind of frosting should we do? I’m thinking either buttercream or ganache, what do you think?”

Janus shrugged. “Why not just store-bought frosting? It seems easier.”

Patton looked at him incredulously. “For a beet cake?! Oh no, we may as well make something while it’s baking!”

Shitshitshitshitshitshit- Janus frantically thought back to the brief research he’d done on cakes.

“How about ganache? I’ve always been intrigued about that.”

“Sure!” Patton chirped. Janus let out a breath as Patton bounded over to the fridge to grab heavy cream. Patton showed Janus how to make ganache, and Janus was surprised and relieved at how simple it was.

As the cake cooked and the ganache cooled, Janus and Patton chatted amicably, Janus asking questions about something Patton would bring up and watching Patton’s eyes become bluer and bluer as he kept talking. The oven pinged, and Janus convinced Patton that a game of cards was in order while they let the cake cool. One game led to five, and by then it was time to gently reheat the ganache and pour it over the cake.

Patton jumped when he realized the time. “Oh gosh!! I’m so sorry, I don’t have dinner planned! I can-”

“Don’t worry about it Patton,” Janus interrupted. “I actually have a recipe I’ve been meaning to try out if you don’t mind relinquishing the kitchen?”

Patton smiled nervously. “Do you want any help?”

I might have to adjust my plan. “No, but I would like some pleasant company. You’re on your feet so much, it’s good to soak them.” He summoned a bucket filled with warm water and a bag of lavender-scented epsom salts. “I won’t be long.”

Patton poured some of the epsom salts into the bucket of water and groaned and whimpered at the relaxing sensation on his feet. Janus turned and allowed himself a small smile, then cooked up some 4-ingredient Italian chicken breasts from a recipe he’d found online, along with some roasted veggies and some pasta aglio e olio on the side. He set the table when Patton had his eyes closed in pleasure, then got everything served and helped Patton massage and dry his feet.

After dinner, in which everyone complimented the cooking, Patton declared he would go to bed a little early tonight, so Janus sent him upstairs with some chamomile tea. He cleaned the kitchen, and felt rather accomplished.

Roman and Patton are taken care of, thank God. He chuckled to himself. Up next, two for the price of one!

/////

Janus stood in front of Logan’s closed door, holding a pencil and large pad of paper, uncharacteristically nervous.

I’ve been able to fool Roman and Patton, but Logan is smart. He may see through this.

He knocked on the door, uncertain of his success.

Logan answered the door, every hair and fiber of clothing in order. “Hello Janus.”

Oh dear Lord in Heaven, this man needs to relax. Janus put on his best smile. “Hello Logan. I’ve become rather fascinated with the constellation Serpens and was wondering if you’d help me chart it and some stars and constellations around it? I’m afraid this is out of my area of expertise and I know this happens to be a field you’re familiar with.”

Logan looked at him skeptically. “You want to chart the stars with me,” he deadpanned. “You have no ulterior motives?”

“None whatsoever,” Janus said.

Logan looked over Janus’ shoulder at the wall, upset.

He knows you lied, salvage this! Janus sighed, pushing it a little. “Truth be told, Logan, I would like to get to know you more, and although I truly am interested in learning more about the constellation of the snake, spending time with you was my ultimate goal.”

Logan looked surprised, a faint blush on his cheekbones. “Oh. I suppose… that would be satisfactory.”

Janus leaned on all of his acting abilities to look relaxed. “Excellent. Would your room suffice?”

“It would.”

Janus laid his pad of paper and pencil on the floor where Logan indicated, and timed his next move while Logan was looking over his books.

“Say, Logan, you and Virgil seem to enjoy each other’s company, shall we ask him to join us?”

Logan stopped flipping through the thick tome currently in his hand long enough to raise his arm in a summon. Virgil rose up and grabbed his head.

“God L, how are you guys not constantly dizzy?” Virgil jumped when he saw Janus. “Oh! Hey, what’s up guys?” Janus made sure to hide his endearment for the anxious Side when he saw Virgil cringe

“Janus would like assistance mapping the constellation Serpens and the surrounding night sky. He suggested you accompany us,” Logan explained without raising his eyes from his book.

Virgil looked between Janus and Logan. “Just like… hang out?”

Janus decided to step in. “Yes. I noticed you seem to enjoy the company of others, but aren’t always interested in participating.”

Virgil offered a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess… that’s chill. Mind if I just listen to music and stuff?”

“Not at all,” Janus and Logan said at the same time.

Virgil snorted, then flopped on the bed, put in an earbud, and started up his phone.

One down, one to go.

Logan sat in front of Janus, irises already dark blue.

Two down, it seems.

Janus listened intently as Logan spoke at length about Serpens, and then about related constellations, and then about related galaxies and stars, with Janus asking questions along the way. They charted out Serpens and filled the large piece of paper with other stars and constellations, and even Virgil would chime in every now and again.

Janus definitely didn’t almost get emotional when he saw how relaxed the two normally-tense Sides were.

When Patton knocked on Logan’s door for dinner, Virgil swore.

“Shit! Did I miss something? Did Thomas need me?! Fuck, I-”

“Relax, Virgil,” Janus soothed. “I kept an eye on things, Thomas is just fine. See for yourself.”

Virgil’s eyes grew distant for several long moments before refocused. He blew out a breath.

“Okay, whew,” he sent a grateful look towards Janus. “Thanks man.”

Janus waved. “Not a problem. Let’s not keep Patton waiting.”

Janus followed the two Sides downstairs, feeling victorious at how relaxed their shoulders were. Virgil was even walking with proper posture!

Dinner was a relaxed affair, the Sides content and laughing easily. Remus was chattering on about one thing one moment and another the next, with Logan offering feedback and Virgil changing the topic for Patton’s sake. Janus ate, not admitting how nice it felt to be included in famILY mealtime. It took him til nearly the end of dinner to realize no one was watching him out of the corner of their eye.

They trust me, he realized.

By the end of the night, he stretched out on his bed, pulling his heated blanket up to his neck.

What a waste of time. Totally not worth it, he thought to himself as he planned his next meeting with Roman.

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Starchild; PG

au where jonghyun is a tiny little fallen star and taemin is a human

hey don’t forget to check out my favorite jonghyuns challenge this month :)

"Can you take me to the bedroom?" He asks. "I want to nap."

"Yeah, of course," Taemin says. No problem. He takes his headphones out, puts his laptop onto the couch cushion next to him, and offers Jonghyun his hand. With a polite word of thanks, Jonghyun steps on. He's warm, almost too hot to the touch, and practically weightless.

Well, not practically weightless. Entirely weightless. The only pressure that Taemin feels on his palm is from the weight of the quilt. The only thing keeping Jonghyun from floating up to the ceiling is the quilt. Star problems, Taemin guesses.

The sigh of relief that Taemin lets out when he closes his front door behind him is, as always, his favorite breath of the day. He leans back against the door for a minute, rubbing his hands over his face. Finally. Finally he gets to pretend the entire rest of the world doesn't exist until he has to go back to work tomorrow morning. 

He rubs his hands over his face, through his hair, drops his work bag next to the door and tosses his wallet on top of it. Then he bends down and digs inside of it for a moment to pull out the leftover fries he got from the drive-thru on the way home. Munching them on the way to the fridge, he gets himself a soda and then makes his way to the living room.

There, like he expected, is Jonghyun in his usual spot on the arm of the couch. The single patch of a quilt that Taemin cut out for him is wrapped around his shoulders, the earbuds that Taemin fashioned into a tiny set of headphones are over his ears, and Taemin’s tablet is resting in front of him. He uses his whole hand on the touchscreen , pressing and swiping around the surface. When Taemin walks in, he looks up, golden eyes big in his small face.

"Welcome home," he says quietly. It's not anything new from the past couple of months that he's lived here, but it brings a smile to Taemin anyway. There's nothing more comforting to him than his little star friend. 

 "Thanks," he says. He sits himself down on the couch and grabs his laptop from the coffee table. With one hand he opens it up and with the other hand he offers his carton of fries to Jonghyun. "Want one?" He asks. 

 "No thank you," Jonghyun replies, not looking up from the tablet. Taemin shrugs. That's what he expected. Jonghyun doesn't need to eat food, and so he usually doesn't, but he does have the ability to so Taemin still likes to offer. Just in case. 

While his laptop is still loading, he peeks over at the tablet.Jonghyun is in the music app again, organizing songs into different playlists. He's been very interested in the task ever since Taemin first showed him the app. Since then, he's been listening to and downloading all kinds of songs that are far from Taemin’s own tastes. Taemin thinks that it's one of the only human things that Jonghyun really, genuinely enjoys.

 All of his playlists have names, but none of them make any sense to Taemin except for one: the one that's just his name. That one is the one that Jonghyun shares to his music player every couple of weeks, and that one is the one that is full of songs that Jonghyun thinks Taemin would like. And on each song, he's been correct so far. Taemin doesn't know how he does it.

The last time he got some new songs was just yesterday, though, and he doesn't want to be nosy, so he looks back to his own laptop. Wiggling an earbud into the ear that isn't facing Jonghyun, he draws circles on his touchpad until the laptop has fully started up and then clicks right to his video subscriptions to unwind. 

A while later– he's not sure how long—he's pulled out of a string of dance practice videos by the softest tap on his shoulder. He taps the spacebar to pause and looks up. Jonghyun is standing now, holding his quilt square around himself and looking at Taemin with those soft eyes of his. The tablet is turned off and tucked safely onto the end table next to the couch.

"Can you take me to the bedroom?" He asks. "I want to nap." 

"Yeah, of course," Taemin says. No problem. He takes his headphones out, puts his laptop onto the couch cushion next to him, and offers Jonghyun his hand. With a polite word of thanks, Jonghyun steps on. He's warm, almost too hot to the touch, and practically weightless. 

Well, not practically weightless. Entirely weightless. The only pressure that Taemin feels on his palm is from the weight of the quilt. The only thing keeping Jonghyun from floating up to the ceiling is the quilt. Star problems, Taemin guesses.

He carries Jonghyun to the bedroom carefully, roll stepping and holding his wrist with his free hand to make it as smooth and steady as possible for him. As they get closer to the bedroom and farther away from the lamplight of the living room, the warm glow that Jonghyun emits becomes more noticeable. He's a little ball of light in Taemin's hand , soft and cozy, and when he steps into the room he doesn't bother to flip the light switch.

Jonghyun gives him another quiet thank you when he sets him down on top of the dresser. Over the past couple of months, the two of them have been working together to turn it into more of a comfortable living space for the little star. Clearing Taemin's stuff off of the top, emptying out the top left drawer, filling it up with Jonghyuns new things. Taemin even pulled on the knowledge of the one semester of woodshop class he took in high school to install a little trap door and ladder that goes from the top of the dresser into the drawer so Jonghyun wouldn't have to ask Taemin to let him in every time.

He's working on creating a nice Jonghyun size wooden house to sit on top of the dresser too, but for now, he's just nestled a nice comfortable cat bed in front of the window for him. Jonghyun has also made himself a little nest from a couple of Taemin's old scarves and cut off sleeves inside of his drawer, and that's where he's going now. Taemin opens his trapdoor for him and, as his glowing little head disappears through the hole, smiles, "sleep well."

Glancing back over his shoulder as he leaves the room, he smiles again at the nice orange glow he can see through the crack around the drawer. 

Then, yawning, he heads back to the couch to finish watching his videos. He hits up his friends when he's done, popping on his headset and turning on the tv when they convince him to play a couple of video games. Then it's time for him to throw something together for dinner, and then to get outside and jog around the block before it gets scary late instead of cool late. Once he gets back, he does his daily stretches and then sits in the middle of the living room with his face in his hands for a solid 5 minutes before he decides that he doesn't want to do the rest of his workout and just goes straight to making himself his bedtime smoothie. 

 With that, he peeks carefully into the bedroom and then walks in when he finds that Jonghyun has finished his nap. He's out of his drawer, in his cat bed, chin in his arms as he gazes out the window. He glances at Taemin for a second before looking back outside. Taemin grabs his rolly chair from his desk to be next to his dresser so he can look out the window with him for a little bit. 

"Want some?" He asks, offering his smoothie. Jonghyun looks at it quietly. He takes his time to think, like always, and then lifts his eyes and asks, "what is it?”

"Um," Taemin says. "Banana, strawberry yogurt, cinnamon, vanilla protein powder, milk." He swirls it around the cup a little bit as he lists off the ingredients. "It's a little thick," he adds. It was a big banana. Again, Jonghyun takes a while to answer. Taemin pulls out his phone after a minute to keep himself entertained while he waits. 

It unsettled him a little bit, at first. Jonghyuns tendency to really take his time considering his replies. At first, Taemin thought Jonghyun was ignoring him, or that he had upset the little star in some way. It's a special kind of silence that Jonghyun has. Not a non-verbal kind, exactly. It took Taemin a long time to finally understand what it was.

It's the kind of silence that stems naturally from infinite patience. The kind of time needed to consider from someone that is used to spending an infinite amount of time doing nothing but infinitely considering. When Taemin thinks about it, for someone that only fell down from the sky 3 months ago, the speed at which Jonghyun thinks things through now has to be off the charts. 

Eventually, he feels Jonghyuns small hand on his finger and when he looks up, Jonghyun nods at him. Taemin smiles back, humming, "mmkay.”

He opens Jonghyuns drawer and pulls out one of the tiny ceramic mugs he ordered for him online. Carefully, he pours a couple drops of smoothie into it and hands it to Jonghyun. Jonghyun takes it, sniffs it, and then tries a tiny, hesitant sip. Then he takes another, and then he turns back to the window, head nestled back into his arms, still holding on to the mug. 

He likes it.

Proud of himself, somehow, Taemin smiles into his cup as he takes his own drink. It's like every time that he shows Jonghyun a human thing and Jonghyun likes it he wins an award. 

 He scoots closer to the window on his rolly chair, putting his cup on it so he doesn't have to hold it. Outside, the sun is long gone and the only light comes from the street lamp on the sidewalk. Wind rustles the leaves of his growing pepper plants and the neighbor’s big magnolia tree. Every now and again a car or someone walking their dog will make their way past the window. In the sky, stars twinkle faintly between patches of void.

Taemin finds himself transfixed on those for a while. Even after he finishes his smoothie and puts it off to the side, he puts his chin in his hand and stares up at each of them. Each one of them,a tiny pinprick of gas. Each one of them a distant little soul.

He glances down at Jonghyun. His attention is fixed upward, steady, resolute. Not once does he lower it to look at anything else on the ground. If Taemin leans just right, he can see the stars reflected in his golden eyes.

"Do you miss them?"

 The question comes out of him before he realizes that he was thinking it. Once he processes it, though, he knows that he meant it and he lets it hang between them without taking it back. 

Jonghyun turns to look at him slowly. He blinks those big eyes of his just as slowly. Taemin meets his gaze calmly. 

Jonghyun doesn't often answer questions about being a star. Almost never, actually. But he never gets upset at Taemin for asking, either. 

It's a long moment that they sit there, the two of them, looking at each other. Then Jonghyun turns away, looking back at the stars. "They don't miss me," he says. 

 And the fact that he answered, let alone that quickly, let alone with something like that, is what surprises Taemin. So much that he replies immediately himself without even taking a second to think it through: "Well, there's an infinite amount of them. Statistically, some of them have to." 

Jonghyun doesn't respond. Even to acknowledge that he heard Taemin. Taemin scratches his cheek, turning back to the stars himself. That's fair, he guesses. Except, he realizes after a moment, "that wasn't my question, though." he says it to the window, mumbles it more to himself than to Jonghyun. He doesn't expect an answer. He doesn't get one, either.

Not until over an hour later when he's finally nestling himself underneath his bed covers. He plugs his phone into the speakers on his headboard and opens up his podcast app, selecting the soft D&D one that he usually falls asleep to. Then he hands it up to Jonghyun, letting him add whatever podcasts he likes into the queue for after Taemin falls asleep. Before he can take his hand away, Jonghyun gently touches his finger.

"I don't know," he says, and then, when Taemin frowns at him, confused, adds, "if i miss them or not. I would have to think about it more." He opens his mouth again after that, like he has more to say, but he hesitates. It's another long minute before he says, "I do know that i'm happier down here with you, though."

"Oh," Taemin replies. He turns a yawn into his pillow. "Well. Thank you. And," he says. He doesn't really know how to reply to that and he's a little too tired to be having a conversation like this anyway. "Take your time, little star." 

Closing his eyes, rubbing his cheek into his pillow, he doesn't see Jonghyun nod, but he does hear and smile when he says, "sleep well, little human."

[fabelyn]

In Carcere Ch.39

Pairing: inahoxslaine (orangebat, inasure)

Rated: T Warnings: spoilers for series finale Chapter: 39/? (previous chapter) Chapter Word Count: 16k

Summary: At first Inaho visits out of duty and humanity. And then he finds he can’t stop going back to see Slaine Troyard.

As the first week after Inaho’s departure is coming to an end, there is a lingering feeling Slaine can’t quite place; something uncomfortable yet not wholly unfamiliar. He notices it in particular when he is playing a card game with Lemrina when she first comes to visit, and it troubles him.

Later, as he stares into the ceiling above his head, waiting for sleep to claim him, Slaine recalls what it is. It’s the tug he feels when he’s left too long alone and the isolation begins to get to him.

I’m so used to associating Inaho leaving with my being alone that it’s bothering me even now, when I have company without him.

It makes enough sense, and Slaine goes with that.

And yet…

The feeling seems to grow the following weeks, which is ridiculous. More so because he cannot help but feel the pang even when he has someone over.

During another visit, when he’s tasting homemade cookies from Harklight, he feels off again, and his mind wanders to what Inaho would think of the food if he had been there.

*

Even after eleven days of intense neural rehabilitation and even stricter behavioral regiments, Inaho is still on his best behavior.

He voices no complaints at any tasks. He obeys his sleep and meal schedule to the letter. He voices no protest when they forbid him from leaving the medical facility. Nor does he ever inquire about his tablet and phone, taken from him on day one. He most certainly never asks about news of the outside world.

Inaho doesn’t frown when the only entertainment they offer him is simple, basic story books. He can meditate just fine or, although this he only does in secrecy, stare at the pendant he once again has in his hands.

The more willing he is to obey, the faster he is cured and, more importantly, the less suspicions will befall him when he does act. Let them assume he truly has no reason to be here other than to be cured, and that the repercussions are so dire he can barely react to the isolation.

Then again, he has heard people assume he prefers being alone. That is, in fact, untrue. Inaho does enjoy company, else his friends and sister wouldn’t mean so much to him. It is simply that he can handle periods away from others without issue. They’re good for introspection and strategizing.

And if he can’t plot right now to avoid burdening his recovering brain, then he can at least reflect. Naturally, the object of that is the pendant back in his hands.

He has plenty of time to compartmentalize what he feels about it and come to some conclusions.

First and foremost, there is a feeling of pride and happiness at being given the pendant the way he was. He has attained a place in Slaine’s heart that’s not hatred. More than that, Slaine cares enough to hand him his precious pendant, something only Asseylum had merited before. Worrying so, he also can’t help the small smugness and feeling that he has managed to pull Slaine from Asseylum somewhat.

Romantic love is fascinating , Inaho concedes to himself.

That said… his feelings on the matter of the gift now settled, he must ensure to rise above them and stop any problematic actions. He should not feel this way. Slaine must not see him as a substitute for Asseylum, as someone to love like an idol on a pedestal.

It has little to do with the circumstances; Inaho sees it as a slight to have the one he loves only love him back not as himself but as an effigy to dote on.

But reality does make it worse. If in other circumstances he might have considered pursuing Slaine romantically, as things are now he cannot allow that to happen. 

(Briefly the question arises if it’s possible for Slaine to love him romantically at all, if not tied to their twisted roles of captor and captive… He shies away from that. He doubts Slaine would ever truly fall for him.)

He wonders if he should have accepted the pendant after all, and maybe should have refused more insistently. But that was beyond him.

The dimmed lights of his room turn brighter as Rayet enters without bothering to knock.

“I could have been asleep,” Inaho points out, tucking the pendant away unhurriedly; it is useless to try and hide that from Rayet at this point.

“It’s 3pm, there is no way you’d be asleep,” she retorts, looking around the room as she always does, waiting to see if something had been added to it. When it’s clear it’s just as bare as the last time she’d been there —that morning— she looks concerned. “Are you sure you don’t need me to kick up a fuss for you?” She sits next to him on the bed and, despite them clearly being alone and the room not being bugged (they had checked) still lowers her voice. “I’m pretty sure even Slaine has more stuff in his cell.”

He didn’t have at the start , Inaho thinks, but makes sure not to voice that observation, lest Rayet assume he is accepting this as a form of penance. He wishes he could make the importance of obeying the rules of his treatment get through to her.

“The faster I follow the rules, the faster I’ll heal,” he repeats again. Rayet sighs and pats his back.

“I know, I know, but it’s just too depressing. Here, I got you this. And don’t worry, it’s been approved by Dr. Yagarai for your reading.”

Inaho accepts a small booklet and can see why it was. Not only was it not digital, a certain rarity these days, but it seemed short and —judging by the infantile drawings— a guide for children, meaning simpler language and musings; nothing that he would strain himself thinking over.

‘Let’s Learn about the HyperGate Restoration Effort!!’ The title says in English.

“Thank you,” Inaho says dutifully. “I haven’t read anything on the topic, actually.”

“Good. Consider it my parting gift.”

“Are you going back today?” 

“Yeah, the Deucalion is about to make its rounds again, so if I want to visit them one last time I need to leave now. I’d stick around more if you needed me, but I don’t see that happening.”

“The faster you go back, the faster you can go keep Slaine company, especially since Lemrina should be coming for her treatment soon.”

“True.”

Recalling the possibility Slaine had once opened for him regarding Rayet’s feelings for Lemrina, Inaho adds, “But no need to rush if you don’t want to, she won’t be coming too fast. If you go back too soon she might even still be there.”

“...Right,” Rayet answers strangely, and Inaho holds down the urge to smile.

“Anyway, I have to finish packing before I leave, anything you want from me?”

“Not really, thank you. I’ll see you in a few months.”

“Eesh, I will definitely come back to visit you two before that. I’ll tell our friends you said hi.”

“I should be gaining more freedom in the treatment in a few weeks, maybe less. If the Deucalion is nearby, I’ll visit them myself.”

“Good, I’ll tell them that, they’ll be thrilled. See you.”

“Yes, good bye.”

She waves as she leaves the room. 

Inaho glances at the booklet again; he opens to find the first page is dominated by a photo of the hypergate as it once stood when functioning, whole and shining, with short text explaining its functions.

The Hypergate was awesome!! Not only was it tall, even taller than a 10 story building, it helped us travel through Space! That’s right! Thanks to it, we could visit the moon, and from there, go meet up with our friends on Mars~

Inaho finds his interest dwindling already.

The wristband he’s wearing begins vibrating, indicating he has five minutes left before his next session. In respect for Rayet’s efforts, Inaho carefully places the booklet inside a pocket of his bag and leaves. 

*

By week three, Slaine has no choice but to come to terms with the actual truth.

He misses Inaho.

He curls into a ball in his bed and groans at the realization. He’d bang his head on the wall too, but the last thing he needs are guards thinking he has lost it again. Maybe he has.

And the feeling is different than the other times he was left to his own devices during one of Inaho’s absences. Perhaps he had not truly missed Inaho himself before, just the presence of anyone else, to stave off the emptiness of having nothing and no one.

Even when Inaho’s presence had felt like a mockery against him every time he appeared, and Slaine had loathed to look at his face, the fact remained that the lack of Inaho meant complete and utter isolation.

(And in a way, the fact that he needed Inaho to help keep the loneliness away had only made him more bitter at the start).

Because of that, whenever Inaho went away, what Slaine had felt more keenly was that he was alone. What he ultimately felt about Inaho’s presence didn’t matter, as the absence of other human beings to interact with was more painful.

But now, the situation has changed. Lemrina, Harklight and, shockingly, Inaho’s sister visit him regularly, and even when it’s not Harklight’s turn to watch the prisoner, he finds errands to run that have him appearing in front of Slaine anyway, as a small solace.

For the first time, Inaho is absent, yet Slaine doesn’t feel lonely.

(Rayet’s absence is also noted, but strangely not as much so).

Which means that if he misses Inaho even so… then he misses the person, and not simply a non threatening presence.

Slaine isn’t sure why it even bothers him to admit this; if he already acknowledged Inaho as his friend, then isn’t this the natural consequence of being away from a friend?

I’m used to his presence, and he’s my friend, so this is normal to feel, isn’t it?

It surprises Slaine how not all his stubbornness had been broken out of him. He finds himself reluctant to fully admit this, even to Harklight.

*

As if sensing his small inner turmoil and wishing to increase it, Yuki comes.

Her visits can be separated into two possible conversation pieces: waxing poetics about Inaho and, less often, asking Slaine strangely probing questions. They feel… suspicious, somehow, though he can’t quite put his finger on why or what her objective could be. At one point he wondered if Yuki was trying to set him up with someone, but quickly let go of that notion. Inaho’s sister more than anyone would know his situation.

Today’s question is… Lemrina.

“You two are very close,” Yuki says with a smile that has Slaine’s instincts on alert. 

So it’ll be probing questions today . “Not that close,” he answers truthfully.

“Really? And does that bother you?”

Where is she trying to lead me with this? 

“I wish she could come to me about her situation, but it seems she is keeping a lot to herself,” he answers carefully.

Yuki sighs. “Let me guess, because she thinks it would be harmful to tell you certain things?”

“Yes, actually!” Despite being wary, he can’t help the exasperation when she happens to be on the mark.

She sighs again in commiseration. “Inaho does the same to me, it’s hard taking care of siblings when we don’t even know what’s going on.”

Maybe it’s a result of Yuki being too used to Inaho, because she is definitely not as subtle as she thinks she is. She had jumped at suggesting a sibling connection too fast, clearly having been keen on getting to that point with her questions.  

Is that what this interrogation is about? Why would Lemrina’s relationship to me be so relevant, and why so interested in defining it as such? 

Ah, could it be that she is hoping to find a good partner for Lemrina and wants to ensure I wouldn’t undermine it?

“While my feelings for Lemrina are in no way romantic,” he makes sure to keep eye contact so Yuki can’t think he might be lying, “and I do want whatever —or whoever— is best for her, I can hardly say I deserve to be called—”

“What is it with this ‘I don’t deserve to be siblings’ thing that’s going?” Yuki interrupts with an eye roll.

“... Did Lemrina…?” It didn’t sound like her.

“No. Someone else, a friend of mine. Nevermind.” Yuki brushes off his question quickly. “Anyway, I’m not asking if you feel like you’re royalty. Or that you deserve to be treated like you share royal blood. Only if you see her as a sibling.”

“I don’t think… I don’t know. I didn’t even realize I cared for her at all for most of our acquaintanceship,” he admits shamefully, “I was too preoccupied with… well…”

Yuki seems to finally take pity on him. “I’m sorry. I sprung up quite the loaded question on you. It’s just…” She sighs. “You are all so… tragic . You are as young as Nao. Same as Rayet. Lemrina is even younger, and you all act like veteran war chiefs. And I suppose you are, at that. But you all have… sorry about this, but… the emotional knowledge of toddlers.”

Slaine blinks, the description so surprising he can’t even find it in him to be insulted.

Yuki looks apologetic as she continues. “It’s not your fault. And the heavens know I tried with Nao. But you are all living your lives and interacting with each other and not even knowing how you feel! That can’t be healthy. Acknowledging and understanding your feelings for someone is such a relief; and I watch you children stumble around with each other... You can handle a war, but you aren’t sure about how to just... deal with certain things.

“Nao’s other friends are… that is, they had a better upbringing, so even if they need all the help they can get to survive a fight, they know about their own feelings more. But none of you do! And you are mostly only interacting with each other, and I feel that if I don’t step in and point the way, you kids might only ever stumble upon it when it’s too late.”

Slaine is taken aback to the point of speechlessness for a minute. He had been told, repeatedly, by both Inaho and Rayet, of how doting and protective Yuki was. However, he had never thought that she’d extend that kindness to martians, and especially not him.

“... Thank you. But I mean it, I don’t know. Well, I’d have to be her friend first before anything more, right?”

“You mean, you can’t like someone as a sibling unless you are friends first? No, not at all, the feelings aren’t linked.”

“Oh. Well, I never had siblings before. I understand that having a sibling doesn’t mean you will love them, but I thought that… to love someone as a sibling, isn’t that... ah, beyond friendship?”

“Not necessarily, no. You can love someone as your brother and sister and be their friends, or not. You might love them, want to see them grow, be happy, protect them, but your interests might not align, or your maturity.”

Ah, that explains her and Inaho.

“...I see, thank you for explaining that.”

“Oh no, please don’t thank me. I think I sprung the topic a little too fast. Anyway, I think my time is up, I promise next time I’ll bring something more fun to the table…”

*

Yuki leaves, not feeling as content as she had expected on hearing certain confirmation that Slaine had no romantic interest in Lemrina.

She sighs as she begins the drive back to her home.

It is true that she can’t bear to see how broken these kids all were. How they keep floundering, lost, and only seem to find themselves when war and death are on the horizon. She does want to do something for them. She was never that good a soldier, but at least as a mature adult she can maybe point them in the right direction.

That said… that said she did push too hard and fast with Slaine. Her selfish notion of wanting Nao to be happy clouded her judgment. That and, perhaps, that she had never quite forgiven Slaine yet for the harm he had done to her brother after all…

And yet the lost and grateful look he gave her... Yuki nearly crashes the car by banging her head in the steering wheel. 

Maybe if Nao and him were still enemies she could maintain her hatred of Slaine, but with Nao not only forgiving but even loving him, how could she not eventually melt too? After all the fine girls and boys she tried to nudge Nao towards, Slaine had to have some world class charisma to catch his heart, so of course Yuki can’t hold a grudge anymore.

Which just leaves her feeling all the more guilty for trying to force the poor lost boy into the path she wants for Nao. If anything, forcing him into a false or premature conclusion would just make any ensuing relationship a disaster.

She vows to be kinder to Slaine. And stop with the leading questions on feelings. She has pushed him enough for now, it’s likely Slaine will begin examining things on his own and, perhaps, come to her for help.

She just wishes…

There’s going to be conflict again in the future. Nao will be in the thick of it. She could do nothing for him at the last war, and she knows she will be able to do even less in any future ones, so if she could at least help him —or anyone— until then...

*

Slaine finds himself unable to sleep, consumed by his own reflections. Yuki had opened a door for him to truly wonder where his feelings lay towards the people around him.

Perhaps the problem lies in the fact that friendship, while not a foreign concept, is something Slaine hasn’t had before. Asseylum was never a friend to him, she was too far above anyone for that in his mind. Eddelrittuo and he never got along until Asseylum was comatose, at which point Slaine himself had other priorities than trying to befriend the maid that had previously despised him.

Harklight had been a servant, and as much as Slaine liked him, he was too conscious of their difference —and too focused on his plan— to do anything about it.

(Or maybe it was that deep down he had always felt inferior and a sham, pretending to care for Vers’ interest for the sole purpose of keeping Asseylum safe, or else why would he be perfectly comfortable with the man now that Harklight and he had even more of a power imbalance?)

And Lemrina… there had been too much guilt there, too much of using her. He is loath to admit it, but perhaps he might not have been as kind to her then if he hadn’t needed her…

Well, whatever had been their twisted relationship then, surely he saw them as friends now.

But it puzzled him how different he felt towards these familiar people. Was friendship just a broad term for any feelings of fondness?

Towards Lemrina he feels… careful. He wants her to grow and succeed and be happy. He wishes he could protect her or at least guide her instead of being shackled to him.

Perhaps Yuki is correct in that he sees her as a sibling? Though whatever Yuki says, he doesn’t deserve to ever admit that. If Lemrina rejected even Asseylum, who was he to suggest such a role for himself?

But that would be strange as similarly, yet not quite, he feels towards Harklight: he wishes for his success as well. But unlike Lemrina, Slaine feels more open towards Harklight. Whereas he feels he should be guiding Lemrina, he keeps ending up being guided by Harklight.

Yuki... he doesn’t count as a friend yet. As much as he appreciates her visits, she leaves him frazzled somehow. Some of her questions are too probing. Thankfully the questions are rare, most of the visits consist of Yuki praising Inaho. It’s in a way fascinating to see how many praises she can heap on him without repeating herself. But even in that, Slaine has a strange instinct telling him he needs to please Yuki.

(Possibly, his instincts are warning him she hasn’t deep down forgiven him quite yet, so he must be on his best behavior. Which is easy enough, just agree whenever she praises Inaho… although sometimes he catches himself agreeing with sincerity and the fact that Yuki is that good at brainwashing is truly worrying.)

Rayet… is the simplest one. She’s fun. It’s amusing to talk to her, her aggressive personality doesn’t really bother him much and the competitive streak she often reveals during games has Slaine silently laughing. If anything, his idea of friendship had always been what he has with Rayet now.

So where does that leave Inaho?

There’s something electric about interacting with him. Slaine initially assumed it was just the underlying tension of their past, but he can no longer say that. It’s not tension, but adrenaline. He can’t help but tease Inaho even if mercilessly, he wants to beat him in games and rapport in a rivalry he doesn’t have with anyone else. Is it a lingering trauma or complex from those years of fearing he’d take Asseylum away? That could certainly explain it; yet Slaine cannot completely assume that explanation because there’s an enjoyable thrill from his interactions he cannot link to his past.

Inaho used to fascinate him as the recipient of his jealousy (for his accomplishments, for the feelings Asseylum had for him) and fear (of what Inaho would take from him). Now he can’t handle thinking that Inaho still fascinates him without feeling himself flush.

Maybe because, ironically, Inaho had before been an existence similar to Asseylum, someone too far removed from Slaine.

...It seems even in his own head Slaine cannot manage to steer himself in the direction he wants; if Lemrina and Harklight are family, what are Rayet and Inaho? Was their history coloring his relationship? But if so, why in a way that made him thrilled, and not feel heavy when with Inaho, despite the steady dwindle in his negativity towards him? 

Is this the difference between a friend and a best friend?

Since Yuki enjoys probing questions on his feelings, maybe she’d be best to ask about this… yet his mouth clamps shut at the mere thought. Similarly with Harklight.

What he needs, maybe, is experience, or a stranger who he can ask more freely.

Slaine recalls Inaho’s friends. They had been well adjusted and sociable, with a history of multiple friends. They would help.

But Slaine is not selfish enough to wish for another meeting, not when he knows what that would entail. 

* 

As if the universe wishes to mock him even as it grants him mercy, Slaine is soon given elsewhere to focus on.

It happens when Harklight comes to announce a visitor, with a grave expression.

“What is it?” Slaine asks, noticing his face.

“I… he’s here,” Harklight says, and Slaine understands immediately.

The mastermind has finally come to talk. Slaine nods to Harklight and as he leaves, he sits up in his chair, expression cool and collected, ready for whoever—

His mask falls the minute he sees Klancain walking into his cell unaccompanied.

Klancain smiles jovially at him and seats himself in the adjacent chair.

“Slaine Saazbaum Troyard, it has been a while. Too long.”

“Indeed,” Slaine says, recovering quickly. “And what do I owe the pleasure of your company Co—oh, should I say Your Highness?” He inquires politely, carefully maintaining a light tone lest he let his true feelings out. “Forgive me, I was told you were engaged but unsure if the marriage has already taken place. News is hard to come by, I’m sure you understand.”

Klancain seems mildly taken aback. “What is this? Harklight told me he has just come by to tell you who I am. And therefore, what I can do for you.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean. I have accepted the error of my ways, and want nothing more than to remain here as penance for the rest of my days.”

“Ah, so you don’t trust that I am the figurehead behind this new attempt at a martian revolution? Harklight and Lemrina can vouch that I am.”

It takes years of training for Slaine not to twitch. Hidden beneath the table, however, his toes curl firmly in place of his fists.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re lying by appropriating a title that isn’t yours. I think this is a farce. I’m saddened that Lemrina and Harklight have fallen for it; I’d ask for you to be lenient but I fear that would have the opposite effect.”

Klancain raises an eyebrow. “You think too highly of me, if you assume I have built this operation and kept it this long for the sole reason of finding dissidents. If anything, this movement has stirred those who otherwise would not have done so. Why, I even added such people to your security. If I was planning to simply hand them over to authorities later, how badly would I look if I had put your imprisonment in jeopardy through my plan?”

Slaine can feel his veins popping and carefully schools his features. “Indeed it’s an impressive con, it shows the lengths to which you’d go for your ruler and fiancée. Amazing, really.”

“You are being too hard headed now. You know this isn’t so. Asseylum would never forgive me if I dared put ideas of strife in her half sister’s head, and embroil her in this. And if this were all a test, why come here now, thus ruining it, instead of waiting longer to see where you stand? Better yet, why even test you at all since, so long as the UFE and Asseylum remain in power, you have no method of escape and even if you did, you’d have no backing?”

Indeed, it made no sense for Klancain to be faking it, and yet…

“Because,” Slaine says through gritted teeth, “if this isn’t a ploy, then this operation of yours is doomed regardless, as it’s spearheaded by the stupidest madman I have ever laid eyes on. And I wouldn’t obey the orders from someone that loathes me.”

Klancain’s face scrunches with fake hurt. “Now, that’s not very nice, is it? The ‘stupidest madman’... I’m offended that you would dare suggest I’m worse than my father. And speaking of that bastard—”

Did he just call his father a—

“You certainly took orders from him, did you not? Regardless, I certainly don’t loathe you. I think for us to have any hope of proceeding we need first to understand, where are these opinions of me even coming from?”

“Where? Have you caught the Empress’ temporary amnesia?” Slaine falters, realizing that Klancain likely isn’t even aware of that having occurred. His disbelief and frustration are getting to him.

He switches to other insults. “Are you a complete imbecile or do you enjoy hearing the obvious? Lucky you, I have all the time in the world so I will humor you: if you truly wanted martians to rule, all you had to do was nothing . I was this close to winning the war on Vers’ behalf. If it weren’t for you aiding her escape, this stalemate would never have happened. So either you despise me enough to screw with a martian victory for the sole purpose of harming me, or you are an idiot. Likely both.”

Slaine stops and realizes he has gotten up in his outburst, having too much pent up anger and grievances since the moment Klancain had dared waltz into his cell as if he wasn’t one of the main people to place him there.

Klancain shakes his head theatrically. “So I see. How disappointing. I thought you were better than this, or perhaps it’s denial? Yes, I believe in your intelligence, Slaine, I’m sure if you stop to think about it, you’ll see how I couldn’t let you win, regardless of my personal respect for you.”

Slaine sits down again, crossing his arms. “Is that so? Then please, the floor is yours, enlighten me .”

Klancain in turn smiles, and threads his fingers together as he leans forward. “You see… and I know you surely will if you reflect on it… your win back then… would have harmed martians in the long run, because you would have consolidated power in Asseylum .”

Slaine wishes he could retort. Instead he feels the air has been taken out of him.

“Ah, I see you aren’t even frowning. You were always aware of it, deep down. No, perhaps not even deep down; it’s not as if you ever cared for Vers beyond her, and perhaps a few of your subjects. Yes, you were undoubtedly about to attain victory for us martians, all that was needed was Asseylum being kept under your guard for a while longer. Less than a day, even. And victory would be ours… but what then?

“We both know what then: you made every order of yours, every move, seem as if it were all an enlightened extension of her will and plans. As such, the victory would be hers to take. martians would turn their obedience into utter devotion for her. Attempting to overthrow a member of the royal family was already a serious, rarely contemplated crime, and after such a triumphant win, it would turn into downright blasphemy. No one would dare, and most would not want to, too grateful. And that was your goal: not to give Earth to Vers, but to give Asseylum the ultimate, most long lasting protection you could. One that would extend even beyond your grave.”

“...”

Klancain continues undeterred, tone light and factual as he describes it all as if reading down a list. “Meanwhile, Asseylum would be beside herself. In her fantasy views, colored by that which she only imagined and the few terrans she actually dealt with, she loves terrans, and Earth, over Vers. She would hate it, utterly despise that such a worldwide massacre of terrans was done in her name. She would call martians to leave whichever terrans survived alive, but too much blood would already have been shed by then. 

“This part of your plan becomes a little… obscure for me, but I assume it would go thus: either you or, more likely, some of her logical minded terran friends would convince her that abdicating at this point would not fix what was done, and instead remaining at the helm to protect what is left is the best she can do. So, she doesn’t abdicate: hating martians, hating you, hating herself besides, she remains the leader of two worlds… and naturally, runs Vers to the ground.

“She would create every law imaginable to protect terrans and Earth. She wouldn’t give land to martians who sorely needed it; she’d instead institute protected terran reserves. Maybe, she’d even convince her grandfather —or await his death— to remove aldnoah from martians and hand it to terrans as penance. Whatever the details, we both know the summation of what her rule would be: one sided towards terrans. She would neglect if not downright harm any martian progress. And you knew that, how could you not? It’s obvious, even for me.

“Meanwhile… Martians would be slow to react to this mismanagement. For a long while they’d trust her implicitly. Afterall, she was the angel that handed them Earth, why would she change and backstab them now? They’d hesitate and even fear to voice any discomfort with her lack of aid.”

Klancain stops, and his tone shifts. His expression closes off and his voice becomes graver, all pretense of levity gone. “Years would pass, and by the time my people realized you lied, that Asseylum was never on their side and that she’s only harming their cause… too much time would have gone by. Vers wouldn’t be as well armed; or perhaps half the armaments have been destroyed with stupid squabbles between Counts now that they could freely attack each other, with their common enemy gone. Internal strife and complacency would have weakened martian power, trust delayed the appropriate measures… and more than likely Asseylum would have by now handed over aldnoah power to any terrans that survived, ready to attack. Martians would lose. At best ‘all’ we’d lose is a decade; at worst we’d all die out.”

He pauses once again, then jarringly continues by going back to his more frivolous tone and expression. “So you see, it’s not that I was against you winning, and certainly not that I was against Vers winning, I was against giving Asseylum the power of belief that would ruin us more effectively than any ongoing war.

“Even now, martians have been so desperate for hope of a better future that even her stalemate made them somewhat satisfied. However, the Counts have hesitated to relax their armaments given the UFE lives on and, also thanks to that, have held back from infighting. Meanwhile the rest of Vers population has already begun to turn, to question why it has been a few years yet their future remains bleak, why barely anyone has managed to be brought to Earth and why the majority of the planet is still given to terrans, why the one that should be their champion —Asseylum— called for a stalemate at the eve of their victory and now does nothing.

“So yes, a basic look at my actions may have me seen a madman, but reflect a little and you’ll see that I had their best interest at heart when I stopped your plot, only to institute my own. If only you hadn’t put her on a pedestal, and instead claimed victory as your own, I would have helped you.”

“...”

Silence stretches between them.

Slaine is momentarily speechless as he gathers his thoughts. The quiet scrutiny he is under is suffocating and does little to help.

Eventually he sighs, feeling his earlier ire leave him as he accepts Klancain’s accusations. As for Klancain’s closing remark… he chooses to not examine it, for now.

“... Yes,” he admits in defeat. “I suppose anyone with more awareness of what kind of person she is, and a look to the future would understand... Vers would have won the fight, but she would ensure they’d lose the war. I concede that she was my objective; I knew no one would be satisfied with the victory I was forging: terrans would nearly be wiped out, she would be beside herself with grief, and in the long run martians would not attain the paradise they expected, at least not for a long while, and not with her at the helm. Yes, I realized this would be the most expected outcome, but I had nothing to live for, if not for her. I saw her nearly die in front of me, and I wanted to give her a future where no one would try again, for as long as possible. Besides— ” He stops himself, but it’s too late.

“Besides?” Klancain urges.

“The terran society seems hardly better, from what I’m witnessing of the UFE. However, the fact remained Vers’ rule was hardly ideal. Power consolidated in the few, who you yourself admit would rather fight each other for power, and had to be wrangled and wrestled into working together even for the benefit of their own society.” 

“Oh yes, I never said I was disappointed that you didn’t love us. My people have their flaws —we are recent descendants of terrans after all— but that doesn’t mean I can’t care and look for a better future, which you were certainly not giving us.”

Slaine breathes out slowly before steeling himself. “However… however you don’t seem to be a solely logical person. There were ways to circumvent this that did not involve allowing her to rule until public opinion turned against her. I suppose these other options might have been harder to do, but you could have achieved Vers wellness without sacrificing the Empress. Yet you chose this path, and I don’t think you did so just because this is the easiest and perhaps faster. Is this truly about helping martians, or do you have a personal vendetta?”

Klancain smiles, and this time it doesn’t seem fake, although that might simply mean he is now hiding his true emotions better. “Now, Slaine, just because you only had one single objective in mind, doesn’t mean everyone must be the same. Why must I only have one reason to dare initiate a years-long plan to overthrow our ruler and change our society? Not all of us have so much focus and passion on one single thing to throw our lives away for one motive alone. Something as dangerous and grave as overthrowing our leaders… must I only do that with one motive in mind? And yet, what vendetta could I possibly have against Asseylum?”

“I don’t know. Yet you must, because the other option was simply murdering her when she boarded your ship running away from me.”

“At which point you would have turned around and railed martians against me. By the time you were no longer a threat, killing her would simply bring about another war, as well as the anger of the former Emperor. Not to mention, Mazuurek would have seen to it that I get killed off in turn. No, I could not kill her then.”

“Maybe,” Slaine concedes, but his instincts still tell him Klancain is not fond, or even indifferent, towards Asseylum. Recalling his earlier words, Slaine tries saying, as if musing to himself out loud, “then again, why would you despise her given how beloved she was to your father—”

Klancain twitches. It’s so fast Slaine almost questions if he’s imagined it, but he knows what he saw, and it confirms his earlier suspicions. “... You… called Count Cruhteo ‘bastard’ earlier.”

“I did. Ah, perhaps it’s time we finally talk about him. And from that it will be easier to explain how I came to have certain feelings towards… you’ll see. You were under the impression I loved my father?”

“I… he was your father —”

“I envy your upbringing that has you thinking that way.”

Slaine is truly and utterly flummoxed. “After we had that meeting, I saw how intently you gazed at the Tharsis. I saw your hands balled into fists!”

“And you took that to mean I was angry that you had his kataphrakt? That he was dead and you may have killed him?”

“Well… yes!”

“Oh dear, in actuality I was angry that I wasn’t there to watch him die. That his beloved weapon was in use and I couldn’t just... scrap it out of spite .”

Slaine snaps his mouth shut, stunned.

“Ah, Slaine, I wished you weren't so entranced by that girl back then. I wanted to have a true conversation with you, as I am sure you, of all people, are the one who can most understand my true feelings towards that man. You see… I utterly despised him .”

Klancain jumps from his chair, now agitated. It’s clear he rarely has the opportunity to explain his true feelings and is excited to do so now.

“My dear father, much like you, ironically, had one singular goal, one singular love in his tiny withered heart: the Vers Royal family. He lived for them, breathed for them, and would have stopped breathing too, had it been their will. He married my mother for the sake of consolidating power, not love. He had me because he wanted an heir to carry on his legacy of being a loyal cur to the Royal family. He never loved me. 

“Do you have happy memories of your father? I do not. His interactions with me were demands that I do better, that I grow up faster. My education, my life, was shaped with the one objective that I follow in his stead. And Slaine, I know about your scars. I wasn’t a terran welp forced upon him, so nothing was branded on my skin, but I know how his punishments were. That cane, I abhorred it, I dreamed of using it on him to see how he liked it. Did you ever dream of doing the same?”

No . Slaine’s scars burn with phantom pain. He had never dreamed of fighting back against Cruhteo. The fear instilled with him had been too great. 

Klancain is pacing around the table now. “And yet… and yet I wanted his love. I thought surely if I worked hard enough, he would finally acknowledge me. I told myself he was just showing tough love and deep down cared for me.”

“And then… Do you know what he did?” He asks as he stops behind his chair, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “He left me. He decided following a princess along for months or years was more important than watching his son grow up. Incidentally, tell me, how surprised were you when you found out he had a son? Did you even see any photos of his family in his Landing Castle? Of course not.

“When he left me, I knew it then, for certain. He had never loved me. And I despised the life he gave me. So you see...” He spreads his arms wide. “I am at best frustrated that you were making use of the Tharsis, and that he’d died away from me. I could never hate you for that. Nor was I ever jealous of you being by his side; I knew his loathing of terrans, whatever love he never had for me, he certainly never gave to you . Ironic, since with your singular focus on Asseylum, you were the son and heir he had wanted to have. The fool.”

“...”

Klancain is master of himself again, and sits down smoothly, although his speech is still faster than his earlier drawl, and his hair is mildly unkempt. “And with that, I suppose you can grasp at what my feelings for Asseylum are, partially. Initially, I truly wanted to love her. I wanted to have the tunnel vision you and my father both had. If I could love her, worship her even, then I could forgive my father, I could understand him and not resent the path he forced on me. I needed those feelings. And yet, I couldn’t.

“You have a unique and tragic story, Slaine. Taken away from both planets and not truly accepted anywhere, so I understand if this is hard for you to believe but: I do care for my fellow martians. I do want to see my people prosper. And that got in my way of loving the Royal family. The former Emperor I even now still feel some fealty to: he truly saved us from our demise. However his flaw is too simple; his blood comes before anyone else. His son was a fool who instigated a war, and good riddance that he was killed. And that son’s legitimate daughter, while not inheriting the bloodlust, has certainly even less intelligence than her dear father. Sheltered and naive. More interested in terrans and their lore than in our survival. Wanting to go around looking at the pretty colors of Earth while martian lives stand on the brink of collapse.

“You loved her because she saved you, she gave you respect when other martians wouldn’t and gave you a place to stay. She gave no one else that. On the contrary, she has always been a threat to our survival with her mindset. So tell me, what is there to Asseylum for me to love?”

“...”

“And I suppose I must acknowledge that my feelings are in a twist. That my father chose such a vapid, mediocre, silly girl who doesn’t care for Vers over me makes me hate him more, and that such a girl took my father away makes me resent her more. Lucky for her, however, I understand she isn’t the only one to blame. I can grasp that the people who failed at educating her are, my father is among them. So I do not feel murderous towards her, or else I might not have been able to fake my relationship with her for as long as I have.

“Her sister however… her sister I can accept. Someone who thinks, who pursues knowledge she lacks, someone who cares for Vers even though she has every reason to resent us. I can accept Lemrina on the throne, I can even trust her intentions on it.

“So yes, Slaine, I could perhaps have worked harder to find a path where Asseylum isn’t used as the reason to strike a revolution, or one where martians are saved that doesn’t harm her. However... I really do not have any incentive to. Seeing her fall from grace due to her own choices will be but justice served.”

He smiles too brightly. “But please forgive me, I believe I might have spoken for too long. I wanted to lay bare my true feelings without holding anything back, as I think you certainly deserve that, at least. But enough about me, what of you?”

“...”

For the second time, Slaine has been left speechless, now even more dazed than before.

Of all the options he and Inaho had discussed… they had not come close to guessing Klancain and this… impassioned soliloquy.

If Slaine hadn’t gotten used to the emotional whiplash Inaho sometimes made him go through, he might have faltered now. Instead he manages to keep his inner bewilderment from showing on his face, even if he wants nothing more than to stare blankly at the unexpected turn of events.

Focus, he tells himself. There are two options here.

Option one, this is a masterful ploy by Klancain to dig out dissidents. He has even revealed his own hand —his allegedly true feelings— without first checking Slaine’s. If Slaine still had any loyalty towards the Empress, Klancain had just ensured that Slaine would say he too hated her, no matter his true feelings. The smart move would have been to show his hand only after Slaine had picked a side.

However, his earlier points are solid. If he is trying to find enemies of the Crown, he is only undertaking risky moves that could backfire and has been creating issues where there had been none. Testing Slaine was also moot, as he isn’t getting out unless this group aids him. And furthermore, he is getting the Empress’ precious only sister involved, which she certainly wouldn’t like. Then again, Slaine himself had done things she was against for her sake.

Ultimately, he could not completely discard this option, but the plot was creating more conflict than there had been. There were better, more efficient ways to protect the Crown than this convoluted charade. So while this option is still somewhat viable, Slaine believes it’s not the reality.

That and Klancain’s acting during his endless speech about his true feelings had been too heartfelt, too passionate for something devised.

Not to mention, not long ago he and Inaho had already considered the strangeness of his actions when rescuing the Empress…

“But then Klancain interjected the conversation, still pretending to be nice to me, and shut the communications and continued on his course, claiming he had to obey her orders by continuing to do so.”

“You think she was taken to Mars unwillingly?”

“No. I’m sure the Empress was fine with it, be it because it was her own idea or one he planted in her head. What I mean is… Klancain never asked her if he could shut down communications with me, nor did he so much as ask her if she wished to change course when she was thinking of going back to me still. It was in Klancain’s best interest that we didn’t speak, and so he made decisions for the Empress, overstepping her authority, even if he did so in a way that didn’t bother her.” Having finished, Slaine looks at Inaho, clearly waiting for an opinion.

Inaho considers it. “I think your assumption is correct. If Klancain was only worried for Asseylum’s safety, he’d have kept the communication channels open so you two could speak at a distance. And if all he did was obey her... he’d have attempted to reason with her before deciding you two should cease conversations. So, Klancain isn’t as simple as he acts. That is expected. Though that doesn't determine what his goals are.”

Besides, the reason he had said all of it first before bothering to ask Slaine could easily be—

Slaine raises one eyebrow. Better to not pretend to be too stupid here, and make it seem like I’m also willing to reveal my true feelings . “We both know you wouldn’t have said any of that if you truly thought I still had an undying loyalty to her.”

Simply put, Klancain had already come to the conclusion no one in Slaine’s situation could still possibly feel love for Asseylum.

And Slaine hates that he can’t even tell if Klancain’s assessment is correct or not.

Klancain smiles back. “Perhaps, but I think I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

Does he think he’s that good at reading people? Maybe I should tone down my hatred despite what I agreed to with Inaho. “Honestly, I don’t even like thinking about her.” Yes, better to say the truth mixed with a few lies to make it easier to believe. “It depresses me too much. But, am I happy?” He laughs dryly and flicks his hand towards Klancain, so that the thin, fading scar on his wrist is within sight. “I’m not sure how much information you’ve received, but I assume they told you about my attempt?”

“I was informed, yes. Although, you could have succeeded then, if you wanted.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to die. That is, I didn’t want to give people the relief of getting rid of me without dirtying their hands. If they want me dead, they should stop doing half measures. I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of helping it along. Anyway, if it wasn’t clear before: no, I’m not happy. I’m miserable, I am—” He pauses. “I was alone. I’ll acknowledge I have you to thank for Harklight.” 

He wants to deflect, but he knows Klancain will notice if he doesn’t give a clear answer. “But to focus on the actual question... do I have some vindictive rage and want her gone? I don’t know if I would go that far, because I try to avoid thinking of her, my life is miserable enough without her in my head all the time. Do I still want to protect her, though?” He scoffs. “I think I’m done with that. It’s time to focus on myself. Although… actually, if you could avoid killing her, that would be better, for Lemrina’s sake.”

It’s not a lie, Slaine wouldn’t risk suggesting not to kill her with a false reason now.

Klancain raises an eyebrow. “Lemrina’s hatred for her is quite deep, why do you think sparing her would be for Lemrina’s sake?”

“Lemrina’s upbringing was just as miserable. While I believe her when she says she wants to help Vers, I believe her hatred of her sister is partially due to jealousy and not only because of her actions or inaction. If my assessment is correct, she might come to regret allowing for anything too drastic like murder happening to her sister in the long run. I doubt you want your next ruler feeling guilt, so you should avoid it.” Slaine shrugs, then realizes he should be smiling for his next line and manages a smirk. “And really, I find it quite appropriate if she’s spared but… locked up somewhere.”

“I understand your point, but so long as she lives—”

“People don’t need to know she lives on.”

“... Ah, you mean do to her as she did to you, in full.”

“We can call it mercy.”

Klancain drums his finger on the table and smiles at him. “Yes, it seems we are finally on the same page about something.”

“Oh? I assumed this was the one page we needed to agree on? I concur on taking the Empress out and putting Lemrina in her place. And even if I am not rooting for Vers specifically… I feel the same way towards terrans. Whoever gives me a better future has my obedience.”

“Well, that certainly covers the end goals quite nicely. However, we do have one more pressing matter: Inaho Kaizuka.”

Slaine makes a show of rolling his eyes and leaning back on his chair, arms crossed. “It would be nice if something in my life did not involve him, for once. But yes, there is no escaping him when it comes to any plans for my future.”

“I’ve told you my feelings in good faith already, even before checking yours. So perhaps it’s your turn to start?”

“There’s nothing fair between you and me so long as I’m locked away here. But fine, where shall I start? No, don’t answer, it was a stupid question, I’ll say it myself.”

Careful now . “I initially assumed keeping Inaho Kaizuka as my jailor was done as an extra slight to me and more punishment. I still do think this was partially the reasoning. And for a long time I couldn’t tell what was worse; the terrible isolation or being forced to interact with him. As if he was here to rub salt into my wounds and remind me he won in every possible way, even in Asseylum’s heart.”

“Past tense,” Klancain notes. Slaine nods.

“Yes, it soon became clear that Inaho forcing his presence onto me had little to do with him being petty and cruel and more to do with the fact that boy has some sort of emotional issue. He is like a machine: he can solve problems better than any but he is unable to emote properly. Simply put, the fool saw me as a lab rat and a curiosity and it never occurred to him that I might be bothered by his presence. Worse, and this is something I’ve noticed people around me can’t quite grasp, he is selfish. Extremely so.”

Klancain raises an eyebrow. “I understand why your feelings would be so negative towards him, but this is the terran who went out of his way to save his people and Asseylum—”

“See? Even you fell for it. Reflect a little. Saving his people and his planet is ultimately for his own selfish well-being. Do you see him taking martians as prisoners, or has he killed those off easily enough? The Empress was a friend to him, so he saved her because she personally mattered. If they had not bonded, he’d not have lifted a finger beyond what was useful for his own survival.” 

“Count Mazuurek.”

“He needed Count Mazuurek to run errands for him.”

“So he’s told you he purposely freed Count Mazuurek?”

“Yes,” Slaine adds an edge of disgust to his tone. “I think he was trying to show off or something, and it never occurred to him it just further vexed me to hear one of the other Counts responsible for the Empress getting away from me was there because of him.”

“Ha, true. I suppose I can see why you’d call him selfish. I have certainly heard similar accounts of him being like a machine from certain UFE officials.”

And it’s not entirely wrong. Inaho can be, and is, selfish, but he is also kind. The issue is that his kind nature takes second place to protecting those he holds dear, which is why he will kill and maim without hesitation when he deems you a threat. And worse, he truly isn’t the best when it comes to understanding others or freely showing emotions, which leads to accidentally hurting them without meaning to, and making him seem colder or more callous than he is. 

“Of course it does. So, he felt an interest in observing his one direct rival that survived, did it matter how I felt? Of course not.”

“And yet, eventually he did begin fighting to improve your conditions. Is that also selfishness?”

And here it comes. “Well now, yes. But… this will get tricky.”

“Oh?”

Slaine pinches the bridge of his nose as if frustrated. “In all honesty, I was hoping the topic wouldn’t come up because it’s a little ridiculous. I considered not telling you, but if someone else let’s it slip later and I didn’t, it wouldn’t look good for me. So, be warned this is not a joke.”

Klancain leans forward in curiosity. “By all means, tell me.”

“Kaizuka apparently believes he has developed feelings for me.”

“... That is quite… the interesting claim,” Klancain says slowly. Slaine expects him to laugh, but instead he easily nods without a hint of disbelief. “It would explain his turn, at least. However, you said ‘believes’?”

It should make Slaine relieved, yet he finds himself slightly irked at how easily Inaho’s friendship is mistaken for love. Focus, focus . “Yes. I don’t think he emotes like a normal person. I don’t think he is capable of love like a normal person would.” Slaine feels bad for saying such things, but Inaho agreed to this and it’s necessary to keep Inaho safe. “I think what he really feels is fascination. I’ve seen the people around him, they are in awe. Even the ones who don’t like him, glance at him as if he’s different. I treat him like trash. And even if I did eventually fail, I gave him quite the challenge during the war. I think he enjoys those; and watching someone so different from him and the people he surrounds himself with —all who are quite the vapid chorus, I might add—” I’m so, so sorry . “Had him focused too much on me, and as a result he thinks this must be love. I’ve met his sister. Have you? She is as shallow as the rest, and likely filled his head with ideals of finding a partner and such.”

Klancain chuckles, but surprises Slaine with his next words. “I can certainly understand where your sentiment comes from. However, I do think Inaho Kaizuka is capable of actual love. There are limits intelligence alone will not get anyone to go through. What he has done and fought against… he loves those around him, and he is capable of truly loving you.”

Slaine finds the blood rushing to his head at the way the sentence was worded. “I… that…” To his horror he’s so disconfitted he’s stammering, but thankfully, that doesn’t ruin their charade. Even so, he quickly composes himself. “Well, whether it’s fake or not, so long as he believes it is real, that is what matters.”

“True.”

“I’m not too sure about the exact details. Initially I think he was trying to recreate what Asseylum had on me, by helping me and thus trying to create feelings of being indebted to him, which might lead to love.”

“That wouldn’t be true love.”

“No, it wouldn’t. But it’s better than nothing. I realized what was going on and… well…” he feigns hesitation.

“Go on.”

Now Slaine crosses his arms tighter and grits his teeth. “Look, I won’t be judged for this, you got it? Self respect has never gotten me much of anything. So if my enemy and jailor starts improving my condition… well, naturally I tried giving him hope that maybe one day it would work. because if he didn’t even have hope, he might eventually give up on trying.”

“I am engaged to Asseylum, I most certainly understand.”

“Ha, I suppose you do. I didn’t go as far as you, I guess, since I haven't needed to. I haven’t acted like I love him, but I have claimed to see him as a friend. I’m good at ingratiating myself, I’m sure you recall Count Saazbaum.” 

That hurts to say, so he quickly moves on. “But I’ve also dropped hints that I can’t quite get over being jailed.” Slaine snorts. “You’d think that’d be a given , but it has to be spelled out for him. Anyway, thanks to that I think he is slowly mellowing out. That is to say, he doesn’t regret stopping me and all, but I see him slowly becoming guiltier that he hadn’t thought of a plan where I wasn’t jailed, so that I’d fall for him faster.”

“So the friendship I have heard about is fake on your end?”

Mix truth and lies. Slaine makes a show of hesitating. “I… wish I could say completely. But the truth of the matter is that I do appreciate it all, somewhat. He is the only person actively improving my situation. The thought of him maimed or dead throws me in a panic; no one would want to regress to the conditions I used to be imprisoned in.”

“So, what you are saying is that you look kindly to Inaho Kaizuka now, because of what he does for you. But if you were to be set free…?”

Almost there... “Are you worried I will want to kill him when I’m free? Don’t be foolish, I would keep up a relationship where he’s still useful to me.”

“What makes you assume I want you to keep him alive? Wouldn’t it be in my best interest to have you backstab him?”

Finally. “Don’t take me for a fool now . If you saw him as a threat, you’d neutralize him before trying to usurp the throne. But it seems you’ve decided he’s too useful to be thrown out. And if he suits your plan now, I don’t see why you wouldn’t use him after, when the planets are back in turmoil over a coup.”

“Well now, he is only a merit to my plan if I can use him.”

“And that is why you’re here. It’s not enough to have me onboard, is it? In fact, given my present situation, there was little doubt that I would agree to work with you. No, you didn’t come here just to test me, you came to see my verdict on whether he can become an asset on your— our side.”

“...Then tell me, why are you so sure he will agree to be used? Just because he is in love with you?”

You’re asking because you want to be convinced you can use him. Check . “Oh no, but those feelings do help. Let’s see,” Slaine raises four fingers and begins lowering them as he explains. “One, it’s clear he did not agree with Her Highness after her ascension to begin with.”

“Hm, I always did wonder about that. Do you know why?”

“He said he didn't agree with how she did things. He isn’t naive like her, so I think he knew her peace was only temporary and wouldn’t truly end the conflicts in the long run. Why he didn’t feel the need to stay by her side to compound this though... Well, I initially thought he was tired from fighting, but now I see it was more likely him acknowledging that with his injuries he needed to heal first. And when he did heal he was too interested in studying me to go back.”

“Ah, and then he fell in love and returning to Asseylum was no longer in his interest. You changed your mind about him not being willing to fight, is there a reason?”

Slaine pushes another finger down. “Reason number two: Inaho thrives on war. He isn’t good at emoting or regular social interactions, his passion and interests lie in planning, which he can only do with war on the horizon, or political upheaval. I’m sure you’re aware he had a great hand in the plan to sucessfuly infiltrate and murder Count Mikael.”

Klancain nods.

“Therefore, he will enjoy another chance to shine and use his intelligence. If not so, why the hurry in going back to rehabilitation? He doesn’t want to be used by the UFE, even during the war the Deucalion barely followed it’s lead, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want some chance to test his skills again.

“Reason number three: protection of family and friends. Now, ordinarily anyone would think that no matter what, Inaho would not want more fighting, for the sake of protecting his friends and family. However, the UFE has effectively nullified that by forcing the Deucalion crew to take action against the martians. Not only is this dangerous if the plot goes awry, they’ll have a large target on their back if the UFE’s plot is discovered and there is the chance the UFE will kill them when they outlive their usefulness to keep this a secret. Therefore, if he can make a name for himself and them while aiding a throne change, he might give them added protection.”

Checkmate , Slaine thinks, noticing the small changes in Klancain’s body language. He’s convinced now. By the end of my speech he won’t have any serious doubts left.

“And reason number four: yes, his feelings for me. If he had any reason to not want her harmed, his guilt towards me ends that. If he had any reason to feel I might be a threat to him set free, his feelings ended that. For himself, for his family or for me; Inaho has sufficient reasons to go along with your plan. So long as, of course, you can convince him it’s safe to bet on.”

“You’ve done an amazing job of selling to me why I can use him. But tell me, why do you go to such lengths for him?”

“Obviously, because I can’t risk getting him killed. If you do, then I lose my most trusted source of comfort in this place. Oh, Harklight and Lemrina are much better company, but they don’t have the power he has to get orders seen to around here.”

“Naturally. But after we succeed?”

“Well, as for that… while I certainly don’t think you’d be foolish enough to try and claim I mysteriously died, as I don’t think that would be believable twice, you could still try to place false charges on me, force me into a ridiculous trial to condemn and neutralize me. But if Inaho is useful to you, you would not want to upset him, so my safety is guaranteed for a while longer.”

“I understand your logic, though I am hurt you think I’d do that. I don’t plan to place Lemrina based on lies I cannot afford for you to disperse. Nor do I think you would do so, given you are fond of her.”

“Pardon me for being wary, but after your precious fiancée put me here, my trust in people has... ah… been completely destroyed. If even she can do something like this to me, what would stop you ?”

“That is simple enough to answer. Firstly, Asseylum does as she will, whereas I recognize the importance of not simply acting out based on my feelings. Not only that, but I do not hold some deep seated bitterness towards you, I am perfectly capable of choosing the path of allowing people to live. Besides, think about it, have I ever murdered anyone, ever? You can ask Harklight to confirm that fact. I may plot and plot, but at no point have I ever done so.”

You haven’t needed to, or had the power to. And that you can put feelings aside just means you might like a person and still cast them away if needs be.

“... I suppose…” Slaine says in a begrudging voice.

“I hope you take that to heart. Now—”

Beep. A shrill sound comes from the direction of Klancain’s wrist. He pulls back his long sleeve to expose a wristwatch-like device, beeping and glowing rhythmically.

Klancain shuts it down with a sigh. “That is unfortunate. I wanted to cover some of my current plan outline with you, as reassurance, but we seem to be out of time. Still, I do think we were able to cover the essentials of this deal. You now know who I am, and what my motive and goals are, and I have gotten a glimpse of you, as well as Inaho Kaizuka. Thank you for the most enlightening conversation.”

His manner of speech is slightly affected, yet Slaine thinks he is not, in fact, lying. “And I suppose, thank you for making a plan that involves getting me out of here.”

“Not at all, that is all on you.”

“Hm?”

“There are many slighted by the current regime that I could use as a banner of injustice to be set right. It’s not that you are the one that suffered the most; it’s just that you are the one with the most charisma. Terran you may be, but you have left an impression on martians hearts. And I confirmed with this talk that you still have the intelligence and charm that I may need to pull the martians into working together, if needs be.”

Slaine is surprised; again it doesn’t seem like Klancain is lying, but could the man truly think that highly of Slaine? Maybe he was better at lying than Slaine has been assuming.

Klancain moves towards the exit, but pauses at the door, turning back to face Slaine.

“Oh yes, three more things. I think I can afford to waste a minute on them. First, I’d be very grateful if you didn’t reveal my identity to Kaizuka yet, I’d like to have a genuine conversation with him, not muddied by previous knowledge and secondhand accounts.”

Meaning you want to ensure Inaho doesn’t have time to prepare or plan based on your identity. I suppose I have to agree, if I go against him in something so small any chance of being trusted will be lost. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure, that won’t be a problem.” Though it also means he isn’t planning on getting to Inaho anytime soon. Damn, the faster we could sit down and discuss this, the better.

Klancain smiles. “Much appreciated. Now, about my dear father... how did he die, and why? I am, naturally, assuming Count Saazbaum did the honors, but I’d like details, please.”

“... Yes, Count Saazbaum was the one. As for the details on how he did it, I’m afraid I don’t know, I wasn’t—” Conscious. “...around and never inquired about it. I assume he used his Dioscura. As for why, it seems it was because—” He said it was to save me, because of his debt to my father but — “Count Cruhteo was getting too close to realizing the murder attempt was a plot by a Count and not terrans.”

“I see. If Count Saazbaum ever receives a grave, I will be sure to visit it. I wish I’d been able to meet with him before you had him… removed.”

“What’s the third thing you wanted to say?” Slaine changes the subject harshly.

“Our little group has an internal motto now.”

“I thought that was ‘remove the current Royal in power’?”

“Haha, nothing so crude, or so blatantly bad if overheard. No, I wanted something meaningful, yet poetic. And something my crew could say to each other as a form of a password without being immediately caught as dissidents. But maybe I’ll leave Lemrina to tell you, she was integral to its conception, after all. I think you will like it. Now, until we meet again, Slaine Saazbaum Troyard.”

*

Harklight finds Slaine still sitting in his chair, head thrown back staring at the ceiling.

“Are you alright, si—Slaine?” he asks with immediate concern. “Klancain said the talk was… conducive.”

“I suppose it was,” Slaine says a little airily. “Although I don’t trust him as far as I can stab him.”

Harklight’s lips twitch. “Naturally. So?”

Slaine sighs. “Harklight, I always believed there was a certain type of people that were rare.”

“What type?”

“The highly intelligent sort that plots for years, maniacally doing so, almost. Yet I keep finding myself surrounded by them. There was Saazbaum, now there’s Klancain; and Inaho… clearly only hasn’t needed to do that yet.” He places his head in his hands. “It’s exhausting trying to even think of their next steps. Why do I keep meeting these people?”

Harklight bites his tongue to hold down his laughter. Maybe you’re their type . “Perhaps because you aren’t that dissimilar?”

Slaine looks at him as if he’d just been insulted. “Excuse me? I wish. No, I just work hard and struggle to get on the same footing.”

Says the man who carefully plotted behind Saazbaum’s back for years . However, in a way, Harklight understands. While Slaine is formidable as well, it was impossible to lump his personality with the likes of Inaho. The other two, however… Slaine is just like them. The way Saazbaum carried himself before shooting Asseylum, the way Klancain acts now… they give him the same air as Slaine did when Harklight was in his employ.

It’s why I decided Klancain’s ploy might be worth a try.

Perhaps it’s why Slaine could never truly love Saazbaum, and why he seems to have no love of Klancain now. They are too much like himself. Then again, both also had their own goals tragically interfere with Slaine’s. Maybe if they hadn’t…

“No, nevermind,” Slaine says, shaking out of his stupor. “I suppose it’s simply that that sort of person is the one who is more likely to survive a war and retain power. So long as I’m dealing so intrinsically with the fights, I’ll end up having to deal with these people. Except Inaho. That one I can’t seem to shake off, no matter what.”

You seem incapable of shaking off people that love you.

“More importantly… Harklight,” Slaine says, looking hesitant. “Did... did Klancain explain to you why he didn’t simply go along with my plan, instead of interfering with a martian takeover?”

“Yes. The few people all aware of who is backing us all have wondered the same, and he’s told us. I… admittedly, I lost my composure when I first saw him and nearly, ah, caused physical harm before he explained.”

“Oh, pity you didn’t get a punch in.”

“Yes, I regret my failed efforts. And even now, I am frustrated at how things went about. However… however I see the logic in his reasoning and think he is sincere.”

“... Possibly, or he’s a very good actor. But that’s not… Harklight, so you, and the others, know that although it looked like I was helping Vers... in the future, my actions, if they had succeeded…”

“We know it may have backfired at us in the distant future, as your goal really was just Asseylum. But, I realized that before you failed.”

“... What? I don’t understand. if you knew, why follow me? And if others know now, why do they still want me embroiled in this?”

“Because I lived my whole life in Vers hearing patriotic speeches that amounted to nothing; every martian in power claimed to want better, yet they couldn’t rise above infighting for power. You managed to show us unity was possible. More so, you owed us nothing, yet even your selfish ideas gave us more than any martian after the Emperor ever gave us. If afterwards we fell due to our own folly, our own blind faith or internal power struggles… that wouldn’t be on you. You would have given us the planet. What we did with it would be on us.”

Slaine is speechless, and Harklight finds himself saying something he never thought he’d dare.

“More than anyone, you should know the power and gratitude even half measured kindness and hope can have on those who had nothing.”

*

Klancain hums a tune under his breath in good humor as he is driven away from the prison cell.

The talk couldn’t have gone better, all things considered.

He had expected shock when he revealed himself, though Slaine’s distrust was understandable; some days, Klancain berated himself for choosing this path instead of allowing Slaine’s plot to run its course.

But Slaine was supposed to be good at reading people, so Klancain hopes the sincerity of his feelings were properly conveyed.

That said, even if Slaine believes his motivation, he will not trust so easily, but that is something Klancain accepts. If anything, a fool that blindly followed him would never have risen to where Slaine had before.

He had assumed Inaho Kaizuka had some fondness for Troyard already, considering the things he’d heard, but Troyard had confirmed it, even revealing a depth of feeling Klancain hadn’t considered. That and he had pointed out more reasons why Inaho would agree to follow his lead.

Yes, with this, he was certain he could strike a bargain with Kaizuka where both their needs were met.

He wishes he could now go see Kaizuka but... he’d need to wait a while, especially with Kaizuka in such a conspicuous UFE place such as his rehabilitation location. Besides, he has an old friend to see first.

*

“Dr. Yagarai, you called for me? They told me the weekly preliminary results were in.”

“Yes, they are, I thought you’d like to know—”

“I thought I had established this last week, but I’d rather wait for the full results, as it’s pointless to be led by half completed answers at the moment.”

Dr. Yagarai laughs nervously. Getting reused to Inaho’s way of speaking is still a challenge. “You did, yes, but nonetheless…”

“You have something else to tell me, and wanted an excuse to bring me to your office —which I assume you verified as a safe space— without causing suspicion.”

“Ah? Ah… I… amazing as usual, but please remember you shouldn’t be exerting effort—”

“This didn’t take any effort to conclude. I just considered your usual actions and places of choice for talking. And that normally you wouldn’t need to be reminded of a request of mine.”

Dr. Yagarai nods. “Yes, yes. Your deduction skills are working as usual. Which… I suppose, gives credence to what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sit down. And yes, this conversation cannot leave this room.”

“Okay.”

He sighs. “In all honesty… I’m still hesitant to even propose this. But your results so far have been promising and I’ve been speaking to the others—”

“You mean the Captain and—”

“Yes. I’m not sure how to put this tactfully, and perhaps you would prefer I don’t.”

“True.”

“And I do think this is important, yet the whole point is to keep you from exerting yourself to recover and this will only add—”

“Doctor, you’re rambling, I doubt we have much time, if the excuse for me to be here is to go through the preliminary data.”

“... Indeed. Alright, and please, I need you to be truthful with me; whatever you say will not go on any record. You used the analytical machine again.”

“... Yes.”

“You did leave the UFE, but with their actions… the Captain thinks you might be planning to go back to taking action again.”

“That is a broad assumption, it would depend on what she defines as taking action, or—”

“You used the analytical machine. Do you plan on using it again?”

“... If it’s necessary.”

“Do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know. But with the actions of the UFE and other underlying issues I have been made aware of, the possibility isn’t small. Of course, I am considering only the most dire needs, as I’m aware I cannot use it without threatening my health.”

“If you could, would you find that you have a need for it?”

“I don’t like relying on hypothetical scenarios. But if I must... naturally I would; even the UFE’s current plots might have been less dangerous to my friends if I had had the power of that machine.”

“I see…”

“Are you saying you believe the treatment will leave me well enough to go back to using it without repercussions?”

“No. Or at least, not anywhere soon. Right now we can revert damage, but to fully heal you to the point of placing that back on your eye and use it as you did before we would need years.”

“Whatever comes, it will be before that.”

“Yes. And I hate to acknowledge it but, you are still the best we have. I wish I could tell you to rest and rely on the adults, but we’ve failed at that, again. And so, if you’re already risking yourself to this extent, all I can do is perhaps try and ensure the process isn’t as damaging.”

“By?”

“I’ve been studying in my spare time. I think… I think I might be able to use the theory behind treatment we place on you, to create a buffer from the side effects of the analytical machine. That is to say, create a trigger that will release the treatment substance as it’s being used. Meaning that the side effects won’t occur, as the treatment happens at the same time as the damage. Think of it as neural protection added directly to the machine, or perhaps added between your eye and it. However, this will likely not surprise you, but it relies on Vers technology. It’s, in fact, the reason why the UFE hasn’t gone forward with studies of this sort. It may need the power to use aldnoah, which no terran other than you has managed to grasp . Maybe this short explanation is a little too unbelievable—”

“No, I believe you.”

“Good. Now, obviously this isn’t a cure-all. There will be a limit to how much the protection can do; I believe it will be both a time limit and a power limit. Too much use, or overuse, and the protection will not be able to cover all the damage. And, naturally, once the protection is used to its limit, you’ll need to come back to me for me to replace it.”

“I understand, you won’t give me back the full use of the machine, only the possibility of using it in dire needs without risking my life.”

“Please understand, I’m not saying this is even fully possible yet, I still have to make sure. It’s all theoretical ideas for now. We have had to place a “protection” on other people, in other cases, but none are near your situation. So much so, I’m not even fully certain on how the protection would be added. Inside the machine would be ideal, but with its size possibly not likely, which means I’d have to add something to you—”

“I understand, and I’m willing to do it, if that is how it needs to be done.” Dr. Yagarai has been looking into curing my neural damage since the first signs of it occurred, this isn’t a new thing. If he is telling me now, it’s because only now he’s reached more than 95% certainty his idea will work. That, or he had already come to that conclusion a while ago but only now realized there is a need for its use . “And naturally, I understand the UFE must never know I can use the machine again, no matter how limited.”

“I don’t know if your ease in agreeing makes me feel better or worse for even suggesting this.”

“The fact that you have suggested this without being first completely certain it is possible means you need something from me.”

“Yes. To test the applications of my theory, I need the analytical machine. That is, of course, if you truly do want to walk down this path, if made possible?”

“It’s in a hidden pocket in my luggage. Call me back for the final weekly results tomorrow and I’ll bring it along.”

“Thank you. And, I’m sorry; I’m sorry this is the extent of my help.”

“If I didn’t want to interfere with current affairs, I can easily remove myself. You’re helping me make sure I’m safer in my choice for a future. Thank you.”

“Just, please, don’t make plans relying on it again. Consider it a last resort when all else fails.”

“Of course.”

*

“So this is your last visit before leaving?”

“Yes, I wanted to speak to you more, especially now that Klancain has revealed himself but…”

“Don’t be silly, your treatment is a priority, we can speak after.”

“Not just that, there is a meeting near where the Doctor is; if I go now, I might be able to go.”

“Smart. Are you going to take Inaho along?”

“... I don’t know. I don't think it’s wise, and Klancain will know if I do.”

“Good, think things through. I doubt Inaho would push for this, but since Klancain doesn’t even want him knowing his identity, keeping Inaho away from the meetings might be for the best. Even if most don’t know Klancain is behind it all.”

Lemrina scoffs. “If there is one thing I’m not in danger of, is listening to Kaizuka unnecessarily.”

Slaine laughs, then notices Lemrina seems to still be hesitant. “Is something else the matter?”

“Are you angry? That I kept his identity from you?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Really? Or are you just thinking that you don’t deserve to be angry?”

Slaine manages to stop himself from flinching. “Honestly, I’m not,” he says sincerely, “I would have never even considered his backstory if I hadn’t witnessed his fervor as he explained it to me. I’d have railed you and Harklight as blind to ever believe him. Now I can see why you both did.”

“I truly don’t think it’s a charade.”

“I am leaning towards that, but I’d rather be cautious, especially given so many lives are on the line. But Lemrina, more importantly, remember that even if he truly means to remove Asseylum, that doesn’t mean you can trust him.”

Lemrina nods. “It’s not just about removing her. It’s about giving martians a more stable future. And stopping the UFE. But yes, I understand. I’ll be careful and report to you, or even Kaizuka, about anything suspicious.”

Slaine nods, but then stops, an idea forming in his head. He stands up and goes to where his few possessions are stored, grabbing a box and bringing it to Lemrina.

“I know this isn’t much of a memento, but please take this with you.”

Slaine opens the box and takes out one of the chess pieces laying inside, offering it to Lemrina.

She blinks in confusion, but still accepts the piece from him. “Why this?”

“I think it represents you, right now.”

Ah. “Not the king?” She asks half jokingly, half gauging if she has understood his intentions.

“The game ends when the King is taken.”

“And that would be… Klancain.”

Slaine smiles at her. “Yes. Him, or Vers itself,” he says, and Lemrina can’t help feeling proud that she can now keep up with his way of thinking.

“I see,” Lemrina had little interest in chess, but seeing Inaho and Slaine play so much, she had sought to learn the rules at least. “I am a piece that can be thrown away without the game being lost. You’re telling me to be careful and not allow myself to overinflate my importance.”

“Not just that; the Queen has the most freedom of movement of any piece, even more so than the King.”

Now Lemrina feels herself losing sight of Slaine’s goal. “Do you mean, even if this conflict of power can be fought without me, because I have royal blood and thus aldnoah, I am more powerful than he is?”

“That is a minor part of it. To remove the current Empress without replacing her with you is to sacrifice all the power of aldnoah, and to fight her without you is to fight with the risk of losing even the power already granted. Not to mention, they may use you much like… much like Count Saazbaum and I did, to receive aldnoah rights for their own armaments.”

“Slaine, please,” Lemrina says, extending her free hand to hold his as soon as she sees his contrite expression. “I was never that naive. I agreed to be used. I was happy to be.”

Slaine shakes himself, focusing again. “But what I really mean to say with this, is that you have the greatest freedom. You can leave, you can run and you can hide. Few know your true identity, and you can disguise yourself perfectly with your powers. You could ask Rayet to help you leave, then hide out somewhere; no one will scour every wheelchair bound person on this planet for you. So you see, what you are doing is your choice. You are no longer locked away in the Moon Base. Remember that at any moment you can set yourself free. You cannot be found if you don’t want to. That is a gift and a power, don’t hesitate to use it just because it was given to you by blood, most of us wish our heritage could come half as useful.” Slaine ends it with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Lemrina stares solemnly at the piece in her open palm, before curling her fingers tightly against it.

“No, I understand. I do.” She’d been a prisoner before, no choice but to follow what those in charge of her offered. And she sees herself in Slaine’s captivity now. “I know the power of free choice, I won’t make light of what I can do for myself. I will only be used if I find it acceptable, and not because I like an alternative.”

In a way, loath as she is to admit it even to herself, she is similar to Kaizuka now: they were both taken in because there is use for them, yet they both could have just as easily walked away. They are tied by their feelings to protect those they care for, but even so, that is more freedom than many can afford.

“Good,” Slaine says with relief, when it’s clear by Lemrina’s expression she has taken his advice to heart. “And speaking of aldnoah and heritage, I do have something I’d like you to tell Inaho about.”

“Oh? Yes?”

“I’m not sure how aware of things he is, but tell him of the former Emperor’s current situation.”

“That he abdicated and is now bedridden? Certainly, but why?”

“I think it’s important, and I’m not sure how much of it he is aware of. Remember, we don’t know how aldnoah works if the member of royalty who handed the rights dies. It may be what is keeping things in line for as long as they have: the fear by martians that if he dies, they will lose all power unless the Empress gives it back to them. However, if that is so, while the royal line’s importance increases with the martians, it will decrease with terrans. The UFE will want her removed before she can once again establish aldnoah power to Vers. If the Emperor dies and the power already given remains the same, the Empress loses her hold on the already established martian lords with aldnoah. Your standing also changes in either situation.”

“Do we really not know? That is, my dear sister was shot multiple times. Few people know that, but I assume Klancain has been made aware of that by now. Yet the Deucalion still works. That means whoever powered the Deucalion, and I assume that as usual it was Kaizuka—”

Despite it all, she pauses to see if Slaine will still remain bothered by the knowledge that Asseylum gave him that. 

She expects to not react, yet to her dismay a fleeting expression of discomfort crossed his face.

Surely not, how can he still be so obsessed with her? And he never really loved her romantically so it shouldn’t bother him unless he still saw Kaizuka as a rival, which he surely doesn’t—

Or is he bothered due to feelings for Kaizuka?

Lemrina pushes the thought from her mind; it’s not the time for that, and she might be finding her judgment impaired by knowledge of Kaizuka’s feelings.

“Even if the Deucalion is powered by Inaho and not her, the fact remains that she was never pronounced dead.” Slaine says. “She nearly bled dry but her heart never stopped.”

“... Slaine . ”

“What is it?”

“Rayet said she tried to kill Asseylum before.”

Slaine shakes his head. “Do you mean the murder attempt that began the war that didn’t even come near to harming the Empress?”

“No, Rayet only told me she tried personally killing her after that, too.”

“... Even so, again, if she was never pronounced dead it won’t do—” He stops, breath catching as a memory returns to him. “Except... maybe it does count.”

“How so?”

“Since you mentioned it I remembered it, but once Rayet did say in passing that she tried to strangle her. It’s been a while and I wasn’t focused on it, but I think she might have mentioned Inaho had to do CPR to revive her. If that’s true, then it’s possible she suffered cardiac arrest. In that case… we would then need for Inaho to have had powers granted before it. It’s not just one but two hard to meet variables.”

“ Slaine .”

“Yes?”

“Have you forgotten? There is someone else: you .”

Slaine inhales sharply. “That’s right, I used to have aldnoah granted by her initially. Ha, it’s been so long I forgot .”

Pitying him, Lemrina tries to focus on the subject again. “That decreases what we’d need to confirm.”

“Yes. Nonetheless, the chances that Rayet managed to nearly kill her in a way to have her considered dead even for a second are slim to none, so expect disappointment.”

“If Kaizuka had to give her CPR, the chances are high. We’ll see. Naturally, you don’t need to tell me that this must be kept between us.”

“Obviously. I was thinking of asking Rayet myself. She’s just come back right? This way I don’t need to wait for you two to come back, but maybe it would not be prudent...” He doesn’t mean it; at this juncture Rayet knows too much and this is hardly changing anything. No, he simply wants Lemrina’s reaction.

She looks momentarily affronted at the suggestion. “I think you can trust her. We’ve told her so much, what is one more thing?”

“True.” 

They hear footsteps in the distance. Soon, Harklight appears and politely knocks on the cell door.

Lemrina sighs. “Our time is almost up. I will keep what you said in mind, don’t worry.”

“It’s hard to. Ah, one more thing, a curiosity, really.”

“Yes?”

“Klancain mentioned a motto you helped coin?”

Lemrina looks flustered but pleased. “Well, I suppose you could say so.” She twirls around a strand of hair with her finger. “We were discussing using a sentence to not only help identify ourselves, like a password, but also remind us of our motivation, without giving us away. Others presented some very good ideas, and I simply searched and found an old phrase in a language called Latin we could translate and use.”

Slaine beams. “A good idea, using already established old phrases gives it a certain heavier feeling.”

“Yes, precisely!”

“So, what is it?”

She tells him, and it takes Slaine’s every inch of his willpower to keep smiling until she is out of sight.

Even with her gone, he can still feel his hair standing on end. He feels pulled back to the day he watched footage of the car that supposedly had Asseylum in it blowing up.

A heavy feeling. Either this planetary war and hurt would finally end this time… or the bloodshed would once again commence.

“It’s... Let Justice Be Done, Though the Heavens Fall .”

-

-

-

-

Notes:

1) On how aldnoah access is granted: I rewatched episode 14 to recall how Lemrina taking and then giving aldnoah to Slaine went down, and noticed an issue I hadn’t realized when originally airing. the sequence of events are: Lemrina turns the aldnoah drive of the Tharsis offline > Slaine asks for it back > She kisses Slaine. This made me question why is it that turning it off on the Tharsis meant Slaine could not simply turn the aldnoah back on without her.<br /> My initial hypothesis is that the royal family can limit who can turn on the aldnoah drive. This hypothesis means that when Asseylum was charged with removing the aldnoah drive from the Landing Castle (s1), she could do it permanently and it wasn’t a simple fix it.

That said, winterwizard over at tumblr has pointed out another possibility that may be more plausible all things considered: that aldnoah access granted through saliva is “weaker” than that by blood. So whereas by blood you now have unlimited access, by saliva you only have a one time deal to start the aldnoah drive of one thing only. By this logic, when Lemrina turned off the Tharsis, Slaine had used up his only chance so had to ask her again. I am still on the fence: Slaine asks her to put the Tharsis back on, not give him more access, though that could be from a lack of understanding details? But mainly, I admit I despise this because it means yet again the narrative has shafted Slaine over Inaho, rather than create a point of mirroring them: if this is the correct hypothesis, Slaine only had aldnoah for one instance alone and no longer has any, while Inaho has now unlimited aldnoah access. Before, I was under the wonderful assumption Slaine and Inaho had equal aldnoah access, one granted by being saved by Asseylum while the other by saving her.<br /> Obviously, if it is the most plausible possibility, I will redo my thoughts to accommodate the fact that Slaine does not have aldnoah anymore. Thankfully nothing done in the fic so far has contradicted this possibility anyway.

But I’m curious about what you readers think, or even if someone is aware of canon confirmation over the explanation.

2) Rayet tells Slaine about the CPR in passing in chapter 6. I believe in my previous notes I was unsure of the answer, but having gone back to check I can now be certain: Slaine did retain aldnoah powers given by Asseylum after she suffered cardiac arrest. Meaning that yes, even if the Emperor dies, no Martian will lose already bestowed upon aldnoah access.

3) Klancain: finally. This explanation was planned since I put him in the fic, since this was my idea as to why he would want to take out Asseylum now despite, you know, being literally the one to help her escape Slaine in the first place. Hopefully I’ve managed to make it convincing. Same with the father: not even a mention of him until the last 3 episodes of the second season? No I don't think there was a strong family bond going on there.

4) Let Justice Be Done, Though the Heavens Fall. Sadly this might have had more power if I’d remained posting chapters in a timely manner. In case anyone forgot, this was basically the “catchphrase” of AZ. It appeared onscreen at the end of the OP on s1, in fact. An ironic thing for the anime to say, given S1 was all about survival, greed and revenge, and s2 ends with no justice at all, just a “and then everyone set aside their issues and were happy”, which is far from the justice at any cost suggested by the sentence.

5) My beta would like it known that each and every single colon ( : ) used was expressly placed against her will. If you too dislike colons in dialogue and thoughts, thank her for eliminating 3/4 of the planned colons.

[korgidorgi]

TLOU2&Supergirl Crossover x Reader Part 5

Word count: 1814

Warnings: Swearing

Part 1 - P2 - P3 - P4

You didn’t get much sleep last night. A soft knock grabs your laser focus attention from the ceiling.

“Hey, we should probably get up and get something to eat before I take you over to the DEO.” Kara says from the other side of the door.

“Alright, be up in a minute.” You respond.

You swing your legs off the side of the bed and shove the stuff you’d been looking through last night into your bag. You swing it over your shoulder, glancing back at Abby’s tag before grabbing it and heading to the kitchen where Kara is waiting with food on display.

“I got a few things out, you can choose what you want.” She smiles at you.

You look over the number of pastries and other classic breakfast foods. “Did you get up early to cook?” You ask, looking up at her.

“Would you be upset if I said yes?” She asks a little sheepishly.

“No…” You quirk an eyebrow. “It’s just- you’re doing so much for me and you don’t even know me.”

You pick up a couple of the pastries and grab a plate of pancakes and other preferred breakfast foods. You take a seat at the table, hanging your bag on the back of the chair. Kara soon joins you with her own plates of food.

“Did you get to sleep at all last night?” She asks.

“Not really.” You simply answer.

Once the two of you finish your food, you grab the journal and a few writing utensils, shove them in your bag, and follow Kara to her car. She tries to engage in small conversation, but it doesn’t last very long before you’re in front of the DEO.

“I’ll walk you in.” She offers, parking her car and getting out with you.

You follow her into the building and past security. Alex is waiting for you at the circular table, smiling at her sister and giving her a hug.

“Thanks for doing this, Kara.” She says, pulling away.

“It’s no problem, Alex.” Kara responds. “I’ll uh, let you guys do your thing and I’ll go to work. See you tonight.” She waves goodbye to you.

Kara then turns and makes her way out of the building to her work, leaving you and Alex together. Alex works on a tablet, punching the last few things in before setting it down and turning to you.

“So, we’ve got some things I need to go over with you.” She states. “Follow me.”

Alex leads you to a lab where Lena and someone else are waiting. The two are standing around a table with many different tools, computers, and materials for their tasks. Alex nods in greeting to them, holding the door open for you. Once you’re in, she steps in and closes the door behind her.

“Y/N, this is Brainiac 5, or just Brainy. Brainy, Y/N.” Alex introduces.

Brainy holds his hand out in greeting, which you accept, shaking and stepping back.

“So, you’re from another dimension.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “And if I am not mistaken, another time.”

“I believe that’s correct, yeah.” You answer.

“Yes, she is. I need for you three to come up with a device that not only connects us to other earths, but also different timelines. We have to get this right.” Alex explains. “And, Y/N, while you’re here, you can work on writing down anything and everything you know about your world's infection.”

“Okay, I’ll have it done today.” You answer.

“Good, just, hang out in here with them.” She orders before leaving you with the two scientists.

You drop your bag on the ground next to a free chair and dig through it for your journal and a pencil before sitting down criss-cross in the seat. You open your journal up and quickly sketch the ruins of the lab you entered with Abby and Lev, trying to remember each detail.

“How was your stay with Kara?” Lena breaks the silence.

“It was… different than I'm used to.” You answer, continuing to sketch.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asks. “You look tired.”

“I got whatever sleep I got.” You state.

After about ten minutes, you get up from the seat and make your way over to the desk where the two are working. You place your journal on the desk in front of them, the sketch on full display, taking up two pages.

“What’s this?” Brainy asks.

“It's my lab.” Lena observes. “But not from our world.”

“This is what the lab looked like before all this crazy shit happened.” You explain. “I tried to remember everything. There were a bunch of weird objects and devices of different states.”

“What's this in the corner here?” Lena asks, pointing to part of your sketch.

“That's where the Light came from.” You answer. “I can only assume that's the device that brought me here.”

“I see.” Lena mumbles to herself, thinking of how she and Brainy could possibly make something.

“If we take the readings from the opening of the wormhole from her arrival here, it can maybe help us find the right portal to open for her to get back.” Brainy suggests, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his one hand against his chin in thought. “We can also run computer models based off of the design of this device in here and find out the best way to build something that works.

“Yes,” Lena turns to you, “Do you think you can sketch the device in more detail?”

“That way we can create a model and run computer tests.” Brainy finishes.

“Yeah, I can try to put as much detail as I can if it’ll help.” You answer.

“Perfect. We’ll hopefully have you back to your world in no time.” Lena smiles at you. “Here, do it on this page, it’ll be bigger. Better for us to see and for you to do as much detail as you wish.”

You take the paper Lena hands you and go back to your seat to sketch the device. Once you finish, you present it to the two geniuses again.

“It’s not perfect, but, hope this helps.” You say, handing over the drawing to Brainy.

“It’s fine. We’ll work with what we got.” He says, nodding to you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. We’ll get you back.” Lena reassures you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

She lets you go back to your seat, letting you take your journal back. You then set to work on your informational journal about the fungus. You go into detail about the fungus itself, how it's spread, what it does to people’s behaviors and bodies, and the Infected’s weakness to fire. You create separate sections for each stage of infection, going over their individual behaviors, the state of the person, the best way to take them down, how long it takes to reach each stage, and even providing a sketch of each stage. You add an extra page for Shamblers, which only recently came into light.Since you have other stuff written and drawn in the journal, you carefully rip the pages out to give to Alex. You put them in a neat pile on the desk, ready for Alex whenever she decides to check in on you.

“Do you want me to staple those?” Lena offers, gesturing to a stapler.

“Sure, why not.” You answer, sitting back down. You reach into your backpack and pull out Abby’s tag. You bring your legs up in the chair as you look over the pendant, soon getting lost in thought. 

God, I hope they’re okay.

…

After a discussion with J’onn, Supergirl, and Nia about missions, Alex makes her way to the lab that you, Lena, and brainy are working in, Supergirl following. She opens the door to the lab.

“Hey, any progress?” She asks, walking over to the main desk that Lena and Brainy are working.

“Shhh.” Lena shushes Alex’s rather noisy entrance.

“What? Why?” Alex asks puzzled.

Lena points over where you’re sitting, well, sleeping, prompting Alex to look over. “Oh.” is all she says.

“She’s not sleeping very well.” Supergirl speaks softly to her sister. “Might as well let her get something in.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighs before looking over to Lena. “What’s this?” She asks, looking at the small stack of stapled papers.

“It’s that informational thing you requested from her. She finished it not too long ago.” Lena answers.

“Okay, thanks.” Alex collects it, quickly flipping through the pages before putting it away. “You made any progress on your device?”

“Yeah, a little bit. We’re still in the process of testing computer models.” Lena answers. “She provided us with a sketch of the device she saw in her world, which helped speed up the process a bit.”

“That’s good.” Alex states. “Well, I should go back to deal with this Alien on the streets.” She references her current report and turns to leave, glancing at your sleeping form one last time. “Supergirl.” She calls back.

“Coming, Alex.” Supergirl is looking at you sleep before chasing after her sister.

… 

Lena gently shakes you to wake you up. “Hey, Y/N, it's almost six, Kara’s going to be here soon.”

The sudden contact makes you flinch, always being on edge in your world. Lena apologizes and retreats back to her computer, chatting with Brainy about the device. You rub your face and stand up to get your stuff together. You hear the door open as Alex walks in with Kara.

“Hey, how’re you guys doing in here?” Kara asks.

“It's coming along.” Lena answers.

“That's good.” Kara smiles at her friend and turns her attention to you. “How were you, Y/N?”

“Fine.” You say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Alright, let's get you home.” She leads you out of the room and to her car. “Alex said when she came in to check on you and get your ‘research’, you were asleep.”

“Yeah, musta drifted off.” You reply, getting in her car.

“Told you you’d be tired.” She smiles cheekily at you, scrunching her nose at you before getting in the car herself.

You huff at her antics before she drives back to her apartment and lets the two of you in. You set your stuff in your room and reemerge for food. She pulls out some of the food from the previous night and the two of you eat. You decide to call it a night earlier, and leave to your room just after dinner.

“Imma call it a night.” You inform Kara, heading to your room.

“Alright, sleep well.” She smiles back at you, watching you disappear into your room.

You toss and turn in bed for a while, but you eventually get to sleep a few hours later.

[aberstudiostorm]

Cacophony - making of

Read behind the curtains:

Maja (writer) - This week I took the role of a writer. The overall idea was to play with the flexibility of sound. I wrote a script, telling the story of the day in the life of Sabine waking up to discover that every move that she makes has unexpected noise, completely deviating from the original sound. Sabine slowly finds her way through another reality with gripping panic. The serious situation is bending with comedic effects of a rude toaster or screaming milk. I struggled with concluding the story as I felt that it needs more rounding up but in the end, but I think it didn’t turn out bad. I enjoyed writing the script and getting creative with the vision of the emotions and reactions of the character.

Tom (director) - This week I was the director. I was firm but fair. At the beginning I made sure everyone knew when what we needed and deadlines for when we needed it for. Maja started by doing the script which I read over, and I loved it. She has such a skill in this department, which as a group we know we will consider for our final film. I took Sabine the camera so she could get the aesthetic shots with Maja’s DSLR and we begin to film. Sabine got some extremely visually pleasing shots, which gave Sol a variety of footage to work with for editing. I enjoyed the process, and it was nice to have the first draft so we could see what direction he was going with and review it. The sounds needing to sync up with the footage was challenging for Sol, but he did a great job in fitting them together. I was also very proud of my milk scream. Hollie helped in giving ideas for what the film should look like and we all came together to decide which shots stayed in the film and what got removed. Overall, I think we did a great job, and I thought the shots, script and editing were strong show of our skills as a group.

Sabine (cinematographer/actress) - This week I undertook the role of the cinematographer because, as the actress, it was easier to imagine what the shots would look like, since we filmed in my flat. After reading through Maja's script, I sketched up a storyboard. I don't have a graphic tablet or anything to draw digitally on, so I took good ol' pen and paper and, although the storyboard turned out quite ugly, it gave me the general idea of how I wanted the shots to look. There is a mixture of close-ups and medium long shots so we could experiment with the sound intensity a bit in editing. The framing of some shots is also a bit unusual to emphasise the absurdity and oddness of the situation.

The filming process was fun, albeit quite stressful. My flat mate was happy to help out, so I directed him as a cameraman and went over all the shots and their sizes, and framing. I'm glad I had Maja's Canon DSLR and we could get better quality and control over the shots than if we had filmed on an iPhone. The lack of a tripod resulted in sometimes slightly strange framing and balancing the camera on a milk carton, but I suppose that's what filmmaking is about – finding ways to solve problems and putting your camera in unusual places.

Hollie (producer) – This week, I once again took on the role of the producer. Our film for the week relied heavily on the non-diegetic sounds and the synchronisation of those sounds to the picture on screen, for this task it was essential for the group to be organised and know what needed to be done and by when. The schedule for everyone was quite tight as the script needed to be done by Saturday, and then the filming needed to be finished by Monday night ready for Solomon to start the tedious edit. Along with the scheduling I was also responsible for creating the sound list for the week, the easiest way for me to do this so everyone knew which sounds were replacing what was by creating a table showing each one. This is part of the sound table I created, we decided to use a mix of foley sounds that we created and sourced sounds from the internet. One sourced sound we used was the air raid siren.

Despite having done a sound list I think we could’ve included more sounds and concluded the film better, one way we planned to do this was by showing it was a dream, but we decided this was too cliche. Overall, I thought the footage Sabine took was really strong and the edit came together nicely.

Solomon (editor) - Within this week of filmmaking, I took on the role of editing. The importance of this week’s film was the precision of sound usage, using externally made sound from the video tracks, in order to emphasise a clearer and thus more immersive film. Usually, we would have to use a TASCAM to obtain a clear enough sound for the filming, but due to the lack of obtainable equipment, I used my phone to externally create foley sounds, and stock audio to introduce ambience to the film too. The important part of linking this video to the external foley sound obtained, was the time I spent syncing together the sounds so that the audio matched the video. For example, when our actor was boiling the kettle, I would add the kettle external boiling sound over the clip, or when she was brushing her teeth, I synced the brushing in the video with the brushing sounds in the audio.  

The plot of our film was that our main character was finding difficulty in hearing properly but was instead hearing odd sounds, such as a screaming milk or a swearing toaster. With each of these, I had to sync the sounds made to the video at precise times so that the items themselves were given character and personality. For example, I synced the milk screaming only when the main character removed the lid off the milk, using reverb and echo on Adobe Premiere Pro and Audition to create the illusion of the milk itself screaming from inside the carton. I also added a muffling effect for when the lead takes a sip from the milk in order to give the milk a comedic effect and thus more personality. I personally think that this particular scene was the most effective throughout the film.  

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 11 - How’s the Heart?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe/Starscream, Sideswipe/Starscream/Megatron/Sunstreaker Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Starscream, Skywarp, Twin Twist, Topspin, Unnamed Characters Additional Tags: Hurt & Comfort, Referenced Orgy, Public Sex, Rape, Sticky, Deepthroat, Coercion, Mindgames, Sex Related Injury Words: 12857

Fair winds, my love Fly towards the calm Fly utterly lost Towards a beating heart, a beating heart

How is that heart Underneath the silence? How is the one Drowning in the mire?

— Nightwish – How's the Heart?

( Previous )

They’d found their way to their own cots at the back of the room at some point during the night. The memories were hazy, again, exhaustion muddling their thoughts, but it had to have happened after the damn signal was turned off.

At least… At least Megatron had somewhat lost interest in them after he’d come in Sideswipe’s mouth. He had waved them off to the side and called other, more obedient members of the harem to see to him—using their mouths, having them ride his spike, kissing them, everything and anything, and the lot of looked like they were enjoying themselves as they practically (and sometimes literally) kissed the damned mech’s pedes.

But somewhat forgotten, the twins had slipped off the berth, only to collapse onto the floor, unable to overcome the weakness in their limbs from too many overloads, from too great arousal, from too much emotion.

The other mates, not called to the dais, came for them, gently guiding them from the floor and onto the cots where they welcomed them with open arms, ignored Sunstreaker’s growls and Sideswipe’s pleas and used their valves, their spikes—relieved them with murmurs of how it was okay, there was no need to fight it, how they should just let go and listen to their crazed protocols. Because what else could they do?

There were overloads. So many of them, the stench of lubricant and transfluid so heavy he was surprised the air hadn’t dripped.  

Primus. He wasn’t even sure which was worse, Megatron or the other mates. Megatron was cruel, uncaring, only interested in what they could give him and how he could have exactly what he wanted. The mates, they veiled their rape in kindness, like they were helping, guiding them into an awakening—and they had helped, because he wasn’t sure their systems wouldn’t have entirely burned out if they’d tried to fight their arousal, the protocols, for too long. The mates had helped them dispel some of that, enough of it that it didn’t straight up kill them. 

But all of it had been… So unwanted. And after their frames had tired too much, it had turned into a dream, out of focus—or what he’d wished was just a dream. A very, very bad dream disguised in a good one, a pleasurable one, the kind that you could overload from without any external stimulus. 

It wasn’t a dream, though, and he couldn’t deny it had happened—not with the harem wing still surrounding them with its warm colors, smell of all permeating interface, the berthroom with its many cots… And the other mates. There were contended rumbles coming from elsewhere in the room, satiated cuddling, quiet laughter… Everyone spent in the best—worst—of ways. Even the frag crazed fraggers the mates were, were calm for the time. No one was interfacing, just… Enjoying the afterglow.

And he couldn’t deny the afterglow himself. His frame was buzzing pleasantly, the damned protocols that had been so wholly turned against him now laying dormant, disinterested in the way of being fully sated, thanking him for all the attention he’d given them.

Without wanting to.

They sat on their cot, the one closer to the wall, their backs to the rest of the room, trying to forget everyone else and everything they had done to them. Sideswipe was fiddling with his servos, scraping his claws together, his spark spinning too fast.

Sunstreaker sat, elbows on his knees and his helm clutched in his servos.

It wasn’t fine. None of it was fine, no matter what the other mates said. Sideswipe was hurting so badly, unable to shake off the memories Megatron had brought to the forefront to break his resistance. My Lord. 

Pits. Everything he’d been made to do under his own power, to show respect he didn’t feel, didn’t want to give. Made to wait there, in the solitude and quiet of Megatron’s berthroom for when the tyrant would come back and abuse him some more, never knowing when that would be or what it would bring.

Fuel and relative freedom dangled in front of him to force him to cooperate.

He couldn’t believe Sideswipe wasn’t crying as those memories spun around in his helm, joined by the ones from last night

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he was feeling much better, even if tears were beyond him too. Everything Megatron had done… During the time he’d spent alone with him, then the relief of several days of nothing, only for that to be… Shattered.

Denied an overload, so aroused he thought he might die from it—denied, until he spoke the things Megatron wanted.

He couldn’t believe, now, that he’d given in so easily, that he’d thanked that monster, that he’d asked for his spike… How could he have been so desperate? The memory of the need in his frame surely didn’t compare to what it was like in the moment, but still he couldn’t believe it.

Never again. Could he promise that much to himself? Promise that he’d never again thank him, never again beg for him?

He wanted to, but his spark cracked with the almost certain knowledge that anything he would promise, any resistance he could offer… That Megatron would only break it, one way or another. 

It hurt. It hurt in both of them, and the pain echoed between them, bouncing back and forth until it didn’t matter whose it was. It was theirs. Their pain over the hell they’d gotten stuck in.

How he missed Iacon and its gutters, the low life of scraping by—it was so much better than this.

But it had had its risks and its dangers, and they had fallen victim to those, only to end up in here.

They were rested now. Low on energon, but rested, and their fuel levels would be easily fixed if they dragged themselves to the dining hall. It was hard to find the will to move, though—easier to get caught up in their looping thoughts.

Starscream, too. He was a peculiar one. By all appearances… What? What was he? It was like he hated wasting time on them, but from the beginning he had taken the role of showing them around, showing them their place, telling them what they needed to do and how they needed to do it—performing the near administrative tasks like giving them their language files and asking what they were good for.  

And yesterday… Acting as if he was keeping the harem itself safe, forcing them to please Megatron when they would have fought—why did he do that? Because Megatron was in a mood, and that made him more dangerous than usual?

What was Starscream’s role in all of this? It was like he was the secondary leader of the harem. Was there a pecking order, then, one that Starscream was at the very top of, only bowing to Megatron and… The other free mechs, probably. It didn’t look like Starscream was free in any shape or form. He lived and fucked in the harem just like the rest of them, only ever briefly leaving—always returning.

Did Starscream care enough, despite the appearance he put forth, that he was intent on keeping the harem members safe? And he was likely the one who had started the event chain that had led Sunstreaker to have his drawing tablet. Maybe Megatron needed to have approved that, but wasn’t it Starscream who had asked what they did, and said he’d made note of it?

The one who had likely brought it up with Megatron, made the request?

It was as confusing as the rest of what the mates did and how they acted. 

Once again they could hear thrusters hitting the floor with every step, approaching them, but when they turned to look it was Skywarp, not Starscream. He was carrying two cubes and smiled at them when he had their attention. “I figured you’d be as hungry as the rest of us! Here,” he said, offering both of the cubes to them. 

Sideswipe took them a bit automatically, blinking at them only after they were both in his servos already.

Sunstreaker could feel him shrugging mentally before he passed one of the cubes to him. It appeared their contents were identical, down to their warmth and flavor

“Thanks,” Sideswipe murmured quietly before taking a sip. As usual, the energon was fragging delicious, and as full of energy as midgrade just could be. Sunstreaker followed suit and began to drink his own, giving his frame the fuel it very much needed. 

“You’re welcome! And thanks for last night, by the way. Megatron wasn’t in the best of moods, but you really took the edge off him,” Skywarp carried on, rocking on his heels and looking like he genuinely meant what they said.

Had they taken one for the team or something?

They were quiet for a moment, drinking their energon, trying to… Trying to forget Skywarp’s participation in all of last night, before Sideswipe spoke up with their question. “What could have happened, if he was in a bad mood?”

Skywarp glanced away from them, his wings flicking like he was… Uncomfortable. Well, that was a first. 

But it probably said something about what Megatron could do when he was in a mood. “Nothing good,” Skywarp responded at length, shaking his helm. “He doesn’t always take it out on us or anything, but someone else out there might feel it before he comes to us.”

Out there. In the freedom.

And it was Skywarp admitting that Megatron sometimes mistreated them—by the sounds of it, even those that behaved themselves. 

So had last night gone well, considering they hadn’t lost limbs or had any physical parts broken? That Megatron had just raped them?

The twins shared a glance. They’d known, at least on some level, that Megatron was dangerous. Of course he was! He was fragging strong in all ways, powerful, and far too good at twisting everything into his favor… But Free Cybertron painted him as temperamental too, on top of being cruel as he had already proven to be.

They, though, had mostly seen him smug, amused, in control. Very few traces of any temper, any anger, no matter how they’d pushed.

But it was still there, wasn’t it? Under the surface, all the time. Were they lucky they hadn’t come to the receiving end of it? Probably.

And… Now what? Was it their job to bring the tyrant down from his more dangerous spells? That of the mates? Just… Frag him until he had burned out his anger and frustrations? 

Sideswipe bit his lip; Sunstreaker shook his helm. Some lot in life that was.

They had to get out.

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

They eventually dragged themselves to the washracks and took their sweet time making the most of the facilities provided for them, ridding themselves of the signs of the orgy, the countless pain transfers, scuffs, dried fluids inside and out. With the amount of imperfections it was going to be a long process anyway, but they lengthened it further for their own enjoyment.

They had no reason not to. Take what they could, use it to prop themselves up, until they were out of here.

Even if they were no closer to finding a way out. But it didn’t matter how long it took. It didn’t matter.

One day, they’d make it out.

In the meantime, in between working towards that one singular goal, they finished touching up their finishes until they were shining, glowing all over again—for themselves and for the joy of watching themselves from the mirrors, no one else—and then headed for the entertainment room, again, after a quick detour to their trunks for Sunstreaker to fetch his tablet. Pass the time with something pleasant, waiting for a chance to find a way out. 

They sat themselves on one of the lush couches against the wall opposite the door, Sideswipe watching the show on the main screen, Sunstreaker burying himself in his drawing. He wasn’t going to let this one thing be taken from him just because it had been turned against him in short order.

He wouldn’t stop using it just because slagging Megatron had made him thank him for it. Megatron wouldn’t have that victory. He wouldn’t ruin this.

And… The other mates. Slag, this wasn’t even the first time they’d forced themselves on them. It should’ve been expected, after the first orgy. Some of them were already in the entertainment room and others trickled in slowly… It wasn’t comfortable to be around them, not really, but pits. There wasn’t really anywhere to get away from them all, unless they wanted to return to hiding in the library. 

Wasn’t the best they could do just try to forget? They were stuck around the lot of them for now, anyway. They could hiss and growl at them all they wanted, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He doubted it would make the other mates understand any more than slagging anything had so far. Anything they’d said or done, the others had only met with confusion. Why were the twins so upset, they’d wonder.

They were already too messed up to get it, so warped they couldn’t understand their position anymore. 

And they had to live surrounded by that for now… Frag. He’d be so happy to get to return to the outside world where mecha actually saw this shit as unacceptable. Like it was. Where they’d be rightly horrified by it.

Instead of… All this.

Sideswipe was frowning at the screen, but from his own distraction, it took Sunstreaker a moment to notice his thoughts running onto new tracks. Once he picked up on it, he glanced up at Sideswipe, who, by now, was passing his optics over the room in search of one pair of wings. 

As luck would have it, Skywarp was present, playing some board game with three other mates, laughing at whatever they were finding funny right then. Sunstreaker’s optics followed his brother as Sideswipe got up and wove his way past the furniture to them, seating himself next to Skywarp.

And tried not to think if any of them had fragged them last night, how many times, and in what ways.

“Hi, Sides!” Skywarp greeted him, as did the others, all offering smiles to him. “What’s up? Wanna join? There’s room for more!”

“Nah, I’m good just watching,” Sideswipe turned the invitation down with just a lopsided grin—not one his old, bright ones, full of zeal for life. Those Megatron had stolen from him, but… It was a grin all the same. He tried. “I was wondering if I could ask something, though.”

Skywarp looked at him curiously and the others followed suit, but the Seeker nodded. “Sure. Shoot away.”

“Okay, so, like half the stuff on tv and in the book files,” Sideswipe started, staring at the game board studiously, “the story ones, there’s almost always someone from Free Cybertron trying to get to or getting to Kaon, and then that’s like… The good ending. But I thought Kaon was closed to outsiders? Why does that theme just repeat?”

The other mates shared a few glances among each other, but Skywarp was the one who replied. “Well, that’s the dream, isn’t it?” he asked, and Sideswipe glanced up at him in confusion. Skywarp clarified, “To escape Unified Cybertron.”

Now Sideswipe frowned. They didn’t even call it Free Cybertron, although no one said anything to him for calling it that.

But they called it Unified Cybertron, just like everyone and everything else here. And while the word “unified” wasn’t necessarily or inherently full of negative connotations, in this context it absolutely was.  

And what the pit was this about escaping Free—Free—Cybertron? Into fragging Kaon of all places?

The damn hellhole where they’d been raped way too many times to count almost from the moment they’d crossed its borders? 

Sideswipe had a lot of things to say and a lot of anger to unleash, but instead all that came out was a quiet, “I don’t understand.”

Because he didn’t. He didn’t understand any of this. 

“Kaon is free of the Prime’s influence,” another of the mates answered. Topspin, maybe? He seemed to remember someone calling him that.

And… That was all he said. As if that explained everything.  

It didn’t. It didn’t explain a damn thing. Sideswipe’s frown deepened in even greater frustration and he scrubbed both of his servos down his face. And resisted the urge to just scream. Not even any words, just… Screm.

Screm.

That would’ve been real nice right about now, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to make a scene in the middle of the entertainment room. Who knew where that would get him. Maybe nothing would come out of it. At this point he doubted the other mates would’ve even understood why he was frustrated, why he was angry, why he felt fit to fragging explode… No matter how he voiced any of that.

They just lived their lives here, apparently happy to frag and get fragged and for some reason buying into this whole bullshit about Kaon being the Free part of Cybertron. That, despite the fact they were all trapped in the harem wing.

What was free about that?

“Anyway,” Skywarp spoke up again and Sideswipe peeked at him from between his digits, “It doesn’t happen a lot, that’s true. It’d be dangerous to let too many in, but they’re stories. Fantasy. Make believe. You know? You can toy with the best case scenarios there, no matter how unlikely they’d be in real life.”

Best case scenarios. 

Sideswipe groaned. Pits, his helm was going to start hurting at this rate, trying to make sense of how these mechs had been twisted into believing all the garbage shot at them from every direction like from the barrel of a goddamn machine gun. It was all… Upside down. Everything here was. Wrong way around in every way imaginable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled before he slipped off the seat and wandered back to Sunstreaker. His brother was watching him, frowning like he was, equally disturbed by the answers he’d gotten. 

Frag this place.

He flopped down next to his twin like he’d never left, but somehow he didn’t feel like watching the show as much anymore. Maybe he should play something instead. Sunstreaker had gone back to his drawing, happy to lose himself into his work, so he wasn’t going to be any entertainment.

Sideswipe turned on one of the smaller screens and browsed through the game library.

Someone noticed he was doing that. “Hey! Sideswipe– You’re Sideswipe, right?” a blue and white mech had turned around on one of the couches ahead of them and was looking straight at him.

“Yeah?” Sideswipe answered more than a little hesitantly. Had he… Done something wrong? He’d played the games before without anyone saying anything about it…

But no, it wasn’t like that. “I’m Twin Twist, nice to make our official introductions,” Twin Twist grinned at him before he gestured vaguely towards the screen Sideswipe had claimed for himself. “Wanna play Destiny’s Razor with me?”

Oh he liked that game, but he hadn’t tried its multiplayer property a lot yet.

It was an easy decision he came to after just a few seconds of considering it. Sideswipe grinned back and nodded. “Heck yeah.”

Twin Twist’s smile widened before he turned back around, picked the game and joined it, Sideswipe following suit—a bit of excitement curling in their spark.

Time to wreak some virtual havoc.

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

After a while of playing, Sideswipe took Twin Twist’s invitation to join him on the couch the other mech was sitting on, to better enjoy the game together. Sunstreaker didn’t mind being left behind to his art.

And Sideswipe knew him. If nothing and no one interrupted him, he could draw all day and all night, foregoing fueling and recharge if he hit the zone. And… There hadn’t been chances for that often, on the streets. They needed to earn their living, and it wasn’t safe to lose your focus of your surroundings like that.

Things were so different here. The only real threat was Megatron, otherwise they didn’t have too much to worry about.

But speak of the devil… Sideswipe didn’t pay much attention to the heavy pedesteps coming down the hall, too engrossed in shooting things, but the wave of arousal and excitement in the fields around them kicked both of the twins out of their tasks. 

Their confusion only lasted a moment. One glance at the door and their spark shrunk in on itself.

Megatron was standing there, looking at the room at large like it was all there for him, and it was. It was all for him, every last one of them. 

And there were so many to choose from and more crowded in the hallway behind him, fields all around them fluttering with hope that they would be picked to do whatever Megatron wanted of them this time. 

Not the twins’ fields though, and yet Megatron’s optics first landed on Sunstreaker, clutching onto his tablet for dear life, and then that red gaze passed everyone else before zeroing onto Sideswipe, staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.

Megatron entered the room properly and walked over to one of the couches up front and center. Its occupants moved out of the way at once and the tyrant sat down on it, reclining on the assuredly comfortable piece of furniture. Everyone kept a respectful distance from him, despite the eagerness that was swamping the room.

There were only two little dots that didn’t join in on the sentiment, and it was them that Megatron focused on. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Come here.”

Sunstreaker growled, in no way motivated to do as he was told. Twin Twist nudged Sideswipe, jerking his helm towards Megatron. It was clear what everyone else thought: the order had been given, thus it should be obeyed.

Without delay.

They delayed until Megatron’s optics began to narrow, and from there on… It wasn’t their choice anymore. Starscream was on the move again, first marching over to Sideswipe and grabbing by a horn. Sideswipe’s squawk went completely ignored as Starscream simply dragged him over to Megatron and shoved him onto the couch next to him. Sideswipe laid still where he landed, his spark pulsing and rotating too fast for comfort—staring up at Megatron who met his gaze with something… Dangerous dancing in those red optics. 

Starscream fetched Sunstreaker too, and he was thrown onto Megatron’s other side. The other mates closed ranks around them. He couldn’t have run even if he’d wanted to.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to be here, with his plating brushing against Megatron’s, the vibrations of the tyrant’s powerful engine traveling into him just so.

Megatron didn’t remove his optics from Sideswipe and Sideswipe couldn’t look away, not even when one of Megatron’s servos came to… Caress his cheek.

He shivered, from helm to pede. The touch was so unwanted, but fear rooted him in place.

He would’ve rather Megatron hit him. Not… This. Fake gentleness when he was sure Megatron didn’t have a gentle molecule in him. He was evil, rusted and rotten to his very core. 

Megatron only went on to prove that much with his next words. “Coax it out, Sideswipe.”

There wasn’t exactly a reason to ask what he was supposed to coax out. Not when they’d been here before, when he’d been given that order before—when he’d resisted, so fucking hard, or, or… He thought he had, anyway, before hunger had driven him into cooperation. 

“No,” Sideswipe said now, the shaking of his helm only stopped when Megatron caught a hold of his jaw—and that did nothing to stop the rest of his frame from shaking.

“That’s not what we say, is it, Sideswipe?” Megatron asked. Sunstreaker growled on his other side, but there was a flash of white, blue, and red, followed by angry cursing.

Starscream pinned Sunstreaker when his brother would have tried to intervene, would have tried to– To save him.

From this. From Megatron. Somehow. Could it have ever worked?

Shouldn’t they have tried anyway?

But they weren’t given the chance. 

Megatron’s grip on his jaw tightened as his silence stretched on, but it wasn’t pain that had tears running down Sideswipe’s cheeks in rivulets. It was bad enough when Megatron told that to him in private, told him to do things in private, when there was no one to see Sideswipe’s disgrace—no one to see him fail in trying to remain the master of his own life, his own fate.

He wasn’t that anymore. Not when his opposition was Megatron.  

But he wasn’t ready to just give up, especially not with everyone watching. The other mates, they were all rapt on them, quiet, but their hunger for Megatron’s attention reflected in their fields. A little more and they would’ve been downright jealous of the attention the brothers—Sideswipe—were getting. 

He’d gladly swap places with any of them, right now. 

Megatron’s thumb brushed across his lower lip, rough, then rougher yet on the second pass, but he didn’t repeat his question even as his grip began to tighten to an extent that was starting to threaten the integrity of his facial plates and all of the underlying structures. Sideswipe whined, but he wouldn’t say it, not again–

But then Megatron reached along the length of his far smaller frame, his claws brushing across his tightly closed valve cover, and then grabbing his aft. He remembered still. Of course he still remembered how much Sideswipe liked that. Pits, he was shaking so hard, and Megatron started to toy with his frame, fondling his aft, petting his valve cover, dragging his claws along the seams, but not so hard it would’ve hurt.

Just aroused. He was turning his frame on until Sideswipe had to keep his hips from dancing, until he was biting his lip to fight back his moans. Sunstreaker was growling, furious, but Starscream kept him down, kept him from being able to do anything as Sideswipe grit his denta and tried to deny his frame–

But he met Megatron’s optics, and although it came as a gasp more than anything else… “No.”

“Oh?” Megatron asked, raising one of his optical ridges at him. Then his gaze rose, looking at something—someone—behind him. “Were you sitting next to Twin Twist? Come here.”

At once Sideswipe could hear someone getting up and hurrying over until an all too eager field was lapping against his own. “Spike him,” Megatron said next, and the energon in Sideswipe’s lines froze for a moment before his fuel pump beat back into action.

“NO!” he said, shouted, trying to pull, twist, yank himself free, but Megatron’s grip on his jaw was unrelenting.

The servos that landed on his aft this time, the digits that started to play with the edges of his valve cover, they didn’t belong to Megatron. His frame was already running hot from Megatron’s all too knowledgeable touch, and Twin Twist wasn’t any less experienced. Sideswipe’s tears ran more numerous, but no one paid any mind to all the ways he phrased how he didn’t want this, didn’t agree to this, get the slag away from him–

Twin Twist only touched him until his frame reached a limit and forced his valve cover open despite himself. That was all the invitation Twin Twist needed, burying his spike into his valve at once. At least he was fragging well lubricated by now, and… Twin Twist wasn’t rough, or careless, like Megatron was, like none of the mates had been in the last orgy. It was clear he moved to enjoy himself too, but the way he circled his hips and alternated his thrusts, all the little tricks Sideswipe didn’t even know a name for… It felt good. It felt way too damn good, even without his interface protocols under an accursed spell. And Twin Twist wasn’t too big, especially not after everything his valve had already been through. It didn’t hurt at all.

He was moaning soon enough, squeezing his optics shut and focusing on fighting his losing battle against his frame. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t want this and it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, it was pleasure that started to course through him.

And when Megatron released his jaw, Sideswipe’s helm fell to the couch and he tried to silence his sounds into his arm.

With Sideswipe appropriately punished for his refusal, forced into enjoying all of this all over again, Megatron turned his attention back to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker growled, a hard, deep sound when the tyrant’s optics fell on him, still expertly pinned in place by Starscream. Growling and glaring was all he could do.

But with one gesture from Megatron, Starscream released him. Sunstreaker raised himself up immediately, only for Megatron to seize him by the throat and pull him close, considering him for a moment before his gaze dropped to Sunstreaker’s groin. Sunstreaker snarled harder at that, for all the good it would do for him. Was there anything he could have ever done to discourage Megatron? He couldn’t rightly think of anything.

Rip off his spike, maybe. If he even could have with the damn thing apparently made from steel for all the damage it just shrugged off.

And that would have likely gotten him killed. Not the best of plans, no matter how satisfying it would’ve been in the last few moments of his life.

“Do you like your new gait?” Megatron asked him. Sunstreaker bared his denta, and tried to jerk free when Megatron’s other servo ran down his frame, to his hips, and then lower, stroking his valve cover. “Should we maintain it a little bit, hmm? It would be such a shame if you lost it.”

“Says you,” Sunstreaker growled past the constriction of his vocalizer. “My frame, and I don’t want it. Go die in the gutters, you fragging halfwit.”

“Your frame?” Megatron questioned, ignoring the insults. 

But the tyrant’s fake confusion melted away very quickly, replaced by what looked a hell of a lot like genuine, restrained anger. “Don’t forget who you belong to, youngling,” he growled. And now Megatron’s grip tightened enough that he could say no more, only a burst of stating coming out when he tried. He wasn’t allowed to keep fighting, not even just verbally.

And then he was flipped about, onto his stomach across Megatron’s lap—with his aft presented to Sideswipe, who looked up in alarm. “Prepare your brother for me.”

Sunstreaker’s engine roared and Sideswipe shook his helm, even as he moaned from Twin Twist’s treatment, flirting with the edge of an overload. 

Megatron didn’t waste time on trying to get him to do as he was told. “Topspin,” he said instead, without looking up. Topspin stepped up at once, ready for orders that came in short order. “Show Sideswipe how it’s done.” Sunstreaker’s valve cover earned itself a meaningful tap. 

He tried to jerk away again, but Megatron gripped him tight and Topspin stepped over, angling Sunstreaker’s lower half until he had access to the junction of his thighs.

Then there were lips on his panel, and a glossa, these too knowing exactly what they were doing as they started to administer pleasure to his frame. Megatron kept Sunstreaker’s vocalizer quiet, but his frame revved hard, first from anger–

But then, when Topspin never once let up, the sound turned into reluctant arousal. He couldn’t stop his physical responses of his frame any more than Sideswipe could, and he wasn’t allowed to escape the mouth working insistently on his cover—until it snapped back with another burst of static from Sunstreaker. 

A dexterous glossa slipped inside his valve at once, seeking out all the sensors in its reach in its first thrust in, pull out, another push inside, brushing against sensitive areas as if it had invaded his valve before and knew all of his ins and outs already.

But that could probably just be attributed to his valve being standard build. 

It didn’t work in his favor, that was for sure. Sunstreaker tried to jerk his hips away, time and time again, but not once did it work, and with Topspin intent on his task, his vents were heaving hot air from his frame in far too short order. “That’ll do,” Megatron said at that point, and finally Topspin pulled back, as did Twin Twist leave his brother, although knowing what would follow… Sunstreaker would have rather had him than Megatron.

But he’d been prepared for Megatron. The tyrant pulled him by his throat until he was on his hands and knees on the couch. He was let go, but before he could even try to get away—as little as he expected the other mates would have let him—Megatron had already positioned himself behind him, one knee on the couch, the other on the floor, and rammed into his valve. Sunstreaker jerked from the pain that stabbed his internals, but snuffed the sounds that wanted to escape his vocalizer.

Megatron’s pace… Pits, he was getting some serious flashbacks to his very first interface with the tyrant. This wasn’t just Megatron taking his pleasure out of him. This was about making him hurt, for his insolence no doubt. 

And Primus but it hurt. Megatron was again showing his strength with the amount of oomph he put behind each and every thrust, and he angled his hips in just the way to hit where Sunstreaker would feel it the most—Sideswipe said something, half scream, but then there was Starscream again, pushing his brother down and keeping him there.

Do not interfere. Not with anything Megatron saw fit to do.

Sunstreaker first groaned at a particularly hard entry into his frame, and then, when Megatron corrected his technique some–

He screamed. It wasn’t loud, and it was hoarse, but he couldn’t for the life of him keep quiet when Megatron hit something, and Sunstreaker didn’t know his own damn frame well enough to say what it was without reading the damage reports, but something buckled deep in him, then gave away entirely under the continued assault of Megatron’s goddamned spike.

He could feel wetness leak into his internals, meeting his armor and then seeping past the gaps—probably one of his tanks was what had gotten damaged, then. 

How, how Megatron could break something like a tank with nothing but his spike… He didn’t understand. Spikes weren’t supposed to be able to break a damn thing.

But whatever modifications Megatron’s had, it spelled pain for Sunstreaker, right then and there. He didn’t look what color fluids were bleeding out of him, too busy gritting his denta, too busy pressing his face into his arm, shuttering his optics until there was nothing but black behind his HUD. Warnings were flashing at him and he let them blink away in the dark, trying to focus on the repetition of that rather than the repetition of Megatron’s spike hammering into his frame until he wasn’t sure his armor wouldn’t cave from inside out.

Pain.

Sideswipe was crying, begging for it to stop, curling in on himself from the phantom sensations he was suffering, too stubborn to pull away, too stubborn to not share–

But no matter what he said, Megatron paid him no heed, let nothing and no one distract him before Sunstreaker had fallen silent again—agony in his frame, in his valve, his midsection, until he couldn’t even make sense of the signals anymore, until he had no hope of keeping up with them. They drowned out everything else, even his vocoder.

Once he reached that point, then Megatron decided it was sufficient. The tyrant growled above and behind him, his transfluid pouring into his valve—and then past it. Last time he hadn’t been certain if it was real or imagined.

This time he didn’t imagine it. 

His frame shook as Megatron finally pulled out and stood up. “The both of you will come to my wing tonight,” he said, and even to Sunstreaker’s hazy processors there was little doubt he was talking about him and Sideswipe. “Have Knock Out fix that first.”

And with those parting words, he walked out.

Sunstreaker couldn’t will his frame to move, not with the pain radiating from his core into every part of his frame. Sideswipe, unhurt as he was, scrambled to his side as soon as Starscream let him, his servos hovering over golden plating. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t know how to touch, where to touch without hurting him more. “Sunny…” he said so quietly, but it reached his audials all the same. 

He could feel the question in them. Was it worth it? Was defiance worth it when it’d only leave them bloodied and broken, one way or another? Were those little moments of satisfaction worth this?  

Sunstreaker forced his optics open when someone approached, and glanced up at Skywarp. The Seeker had a sorrowful look about his face, for once. Did even he acknowledge this much was messed up?

But he laid the blame at their pedes, not Megatron’s. “You really shouldn’t test him like that,” Skywarp murmured, and that… That was probably the overarching sentiment of all the mates, wasn’t it? That they had asked for this.

Their fault for pushing Megatron to a violent limit of his. 

“Let’s get you to Knock Out.” Twin Twist. Sideswipe snarled at him, but it was without any real strength. Yeah, he’d just gotten raped by the mech, but what else was new? They’d all forced themselves on them at one point or other. 

Sideswipe had gotten pleasure, unwanted. Sunstreaker had earned himself pain. Which was better? Which was worse?

Before, he would have said he preferred pain, no questions asked. 

He wasn’t as sure anymore. 

It was Twin Twist and Topspin that gently laid their servos on his frame, pulling him up and supporting him when the utter agony of his internals stole all steadiness from his legs. His helm hung, his vents heaved—but no longer from heat or arousal.

It just hurt, like getting stabbed several times over, aggravated by every move he made… But it wouldn’t get better anytime soon, not without Knock Out.

So he ground his denta together and tried to bear it, tried to ignore it enough to at least move his legs—even so, the other set of twins had to nearly carry him between them. Sideswipe followed on their heels, wanting so bad to help, but without the ways or the means to do so.

It was an excruciatingly long walk down the hallway to the medbay, but they made it, eventually. Topspin and his brother helped him onto one of the berths before Sideswipe took their place by his side, clutching onto his servo, his arm.

Sunstreaker squeezed his servo back, trying to calm their turbulent spark. Yeah, that had been bad, and yeah, he hurt now, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

He’d be fine.

Sideswipe found it hard to believe.

Knock Out walked over from wherever he had been—his quarters, maybe?—took one look at him, and shook his helm. “Now what did you do to earn that? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know. Especially not the details.”

He said all of that so casually, like this was no big deal, like this happened too often for him to give a frag anymore. If he ever had given a frag to begin with. Sideswipe growled again, but Knock Out fluently ignored him and merely scanned Sunstreaker. He sighed at whatever he found—annoyed, more than anything.

Not bothered.

Not feeling sorry for them.

Not thinking this was wrong.

Just Knock Out being Knock Out, the harem’s detached medic and bodywork miracle.

“I’ll put you to stasis for the repairs. This shouldn’t take too long. Are you..?” Knock Out trailed off, looking up at Sideswipe.

“I’m staying,” Sideswipe said firmly.

Knock Out shrugged. “Just stay out of my way and keep quiet. Now then!” Sunstreaker turned his helm to the side on the medic’s approach, let him plug in, and watched as Knock Out initiated medical stasis.

His frame slumped, fleeing consciousness leaving all systems lax and only the vital ones online. Sideswipe gave his brother’s arm one more squeeze before he stepped back to huddle against the wall. Out of the way, like Knock Out had told him. 

And quiet, hard as that was.

Sunstreaker had been just like this, in stasis, helpless, out of it, when Megatron had used his frame only for him to come back online to the signs of what had been done to him.

Sideswipe couldn’t disagree that that was… Beyond messed up. What kind of a mech fragged a corpse?  

The same kind of mech that would interface you to pieces if you showed disrespect.

He wasn’t even crying at this point, as much as old tear tracks had dried on his face. Megatron wanted them in his wing. Tonight. And he was bound to be displeased after what had happened, here. 

He was too sore to hurt any more. Not… Not physically. His frame could still be made to suffer in ways he hadn’t even known about, he was sure about that much.

But he wasn’t so sure his spark could contain any more pain than it already did. He wasn’t sure his mind was ready to process anything more.

He felt about ready to stop feeling.

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

Unfortunately, he became less certain of his emotional immunity when they were led to Megatron’s wing that night. Fear was rising, quickly.

Knock Out had fixed Sunstreaker like he had fixed them every time before. Sunstreaker wasn’t in pain, anymore, aside from the little sting of fresh welds. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

But would it remain that way, or did Megatron have something painful in mind for them now? They had displeased him. In his twisted mind that probably earned them all sorts of awfulness, that Sideswipe wasn’t looking forward to one bit.

The doors to the wing closed behind them, and trapped they were. Sunstreaker was gripping his servo, trying to calm him, to build strength in him—but he wasn’t sure that, for once, Sunstreaker wasn’t equally trying to gather strength from him instead of just giving it to him. Things had… Never been this bad before. They’d gotten hurt before, pretty badly, and they’d struggled to get themselves the necessary repairs, but never before had anyone tried to systematically break them, inside and out. 

That was what Megatron was doing now though, a-and… They’d acted out, and felt it, especially Sunstreaker, which could only be the beginning to the plans Megatron had for them.

But there was no running, not from this, so, together, they walked down the long hall, past all of the closed doors, and to the lounge where Megatron was already sitting, reading something. He glanced up on their arrival, and frowned. “Berthroom, you two.” His tone… Megatron was done playing around, wasn’t he?

Sideswipe swallowed hard, but after a glance at Sunstreaker that his brother returned, they slowly crept past the furniture of the lounge and to the doors of Megatron’s berthroom, and through them, and– Pits, what would happen now?

They could hear Megatron getting up behind them, walking after them until he was forcing them further into the room with the threat of touching them to nudge them in the right direction. They wanted as little of his touch as possible, as much as they expected there would be a lot of that tonight.

“Get on the berth,” came the next command, and ever hesitantly they did just that, hoisting themselves up and scooting somewhere off to the center. Megatron followed them, his optics severe. Not amused, not smug.

Just intent on making them do as they were told and exactly as they were told. The means he’d use to that end… He didn’t want to know, but he was sure they’d find out anyway.

“Make out,” Megatron said next. Sideswipe started, Sunstreaker growled—and they didn’t do it.  

Megatron raised an optical ridge at them, unimpressed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how. You’re brothers.” They were, and yeah, they knew how, they enjoyed it… But not in these circumstances.

Even Sunstreaker didn’t dare say anything, but they didn’t act on the order either.

And Megatron proved he just wasn’t going to wait for them, not anymore. He reached over, and before they could jerk out of the way, his servo had found Sideswipe’s valve cover, claws dug into the seams, and torn the entire panel off. Sideswipe was too unprepared, too surprised to even make a sound even as his sensors alerted him to the pain, just keeled forward into Sunstreaker’s arms.

Then three of the tyrant’s thick digits stabbed into his bared valve without any warning, any preparation. Now Sideswipe gasped when the sharp tips raked against his valve mesh, making his hips jerk in an attempt to get away—but that only dug Megatron’s claws deeper, and he had to stop, had to still himself lest he damage his equipment further. 

Megatron began to move his servo, and this wasn’t about arousing him, no. He dragged his claws across sensitive sensors in a way that didn’t do anything more than hurt with sharp pains, and Sideswipe clutched onto Sunstreaker’s arms, closing his optics tight.

“Make out,” Megatron repeated, and now his digits slowed, the suggestion clear as day: do as they were told and it didn’t have to hurt. 

Sideswipe glanced up at Sunstreaker, his brother staring back at him with a pained expression, but what could they do?

What could they do?

Sideswipe reached up now, and pressed his lips against Sunstreaker’s. They were unresponsive, but just for a second before Sunstreaker returned the kiss, almost desperately—wrapping his arm around Sideswipe to keep him close, to give and seek comfort from each other.

Because that was all they had now, wasn’t it? Each other.

Megatron’s digits abandoned his valve, blessedly, horribly—rewarded for something he didn’t want to do in the first place. He didn’t want to give in, but by the pits… What options did they have?

At least the press of Sunstreaker’s lips was familiar, when their glossae entwined, it was familiar, and the taste… It was his brother, there was no question about that. This was theirs, their… Their attempt to enjoy even something about this.

Megatron moved next to them instead of being mostly behind Sideswipe. A click had the both of them glancing at the tyrant, all to see his spike cover retract and his spike pressurizing already, readily. “Use your servo to pleasure me. Don’t stop kissing,” came the orders, tersely.

What was this? Putting on a show for Megatron’s benefit, while simultaneously pleasuring him?

When they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron reached for Sunstreaker’s valve cover and ripped that clean off too. His brother jerked from the pain, but didn’t voice it any more than Sideswipe had—but before Megatron had the time to do more than that, Sunstreaker had pulled him back against him, landing a kiss on his cheek before Sideswipe had the sense to turn his helm to face him.

And it was Sunstreaker’s servo that reached for Megatron’s spike and began to pump his servo along it.

Sunstreaker was shaking, but Sideswipe could feel his determination to keep Sideswipe safe. If that meant indignity, if it meant pleasuring their rapist… So be it.

As long as Sideswipe remained safe.

It was a sentiment that had the red twin crying in no time. Look at what they had been reduced to. Doing something that they’d always loved, but now involuntarily, left without choice, while pleasing the damn mech that had torn them from their humble but happy enough life, only to bring them here to endure things they hadn’t imagined even in their worst nightmares.

They weren’t ready for this, nothing in their life had prepared them for this—nothing could have prepared them for this. The cruelty, the immorality were on another level entirely.

It was too much, and yet they couldn’t but bear it. 

Sunstreaker’s servo jerked Megatron to completion, the tyrant’s transfluid splattering onto his brother’s arm, on Megatron’s plating. “Lick that off, Sunstreaker,” he said, and the brothers parted ways to both stare at Megatron. Sunstreaker was shivering, Sideswipe’s armor was rattling—and they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron again jabbing his claws into Sideswipe’s valve.

This time he cried out.

That was enough to prompt Sunstreaker into action and he lowered himself onto the berth, in a position of true subservience neither of them could have ever wanted, and did as he was told. He cleaned, with his glossa, all of the transfluid that had landed on the tyrant’s plating, and all of what had remained on the tip of his spike and run down the length. Megatron’s digits left Sideswipe’s valve and he was rumbling, approving—and approving meant not physical pain. 

Only pain of a spark forced into something it never wanted to do, never wanted to be. But they were stuck. They were so, so stuck in all of this, their way out still unclear. They would find it eventually, he just… He hoped it would be soon enough.  

Megatron tapped Sunstreaker’s chin once he was satisfied with his brother’s work, and Sunstreaker eagerly pulled away.

Then it was Sideswipe who got the next set of instructions. “Lay on your back and spread your legs.”

He didn’t like where this was going, but under the gazes of both Megatron and Sunstreaker he nevertheless leaned back until he was laying down entirely, and let his legs fall apart, putting his coverless valve in perfect display. 

If only Megatron had chosen to spike him then. That would have been familiar, that he could’ve… He could’ve handled that. 

But instead Megatron’s optics moved to Sunstreaker. “Fist him.”

“What?!” they asked in unison, and Sideswipe shot back into a sitting position.

“You can’t be serious,” Sunstreaker continued, their disbelief quickly giving way to dry horror. They didn’t want to ‘face each other to begin with, not in any way, and… Frag, not in that way either. And Sideswipe didn’t particularly fancy finding out what getting fisted felt like in the first place. He hadn’t even entertained the thought before, no matter how much he had enjoyed interfacing.

But here they were.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Megatron responded to Sunstreaker, and his voice left little doubt of that. But… Slaggit, better Sunstreaker than Megatron. Megatron’s servos were as large as the rest of him. That would’ve… He wasn’t sure his frame could’ve taken that in any shape or form.

But Sunstreaker… Sideswipe met his gaze. Sunstreaker’s face twisted with emotion as he tried to think of some way to avoid this, some way to spare them both this… He came out empty. 

“Now,” Megatron said, without inflection, but there was threat in that one word all the same. What would he do if they didn’t? How would he hurt them? “On your back, Sideswipe.”

He fell back even more reluctantly than before, but Sunstreaker couldn’t will himself into motion.

Couldn’t, before Megatron gave him some more incentive. “Do it, or I will.”

He could probably survive Megatron’s servo if it came down to it. He didn’t think he’d die, but the amount of damage it would have caused… 

The amount of pain.

It didn’t need to come down to it. Sunstreaker grit his denta, but moved between his spread legs and grudgingly, unwillingly, brought his servo to Sideswipe’s valve.

The sooner they were done with this, the sooner… They could move to whatever else Megatron had planned for them. And the sooner they got to all that, the sooner they would get out of here.

Even so, Sunstreaker wasn’t about to hurt Sideswipe if it could be avoided. He pushed two of his digits into Sideswipe’s valve at first, adding a third when he found it looser than he’d expected—but after, he sought out sensors, and not to scratch them, but to stimulate them, in the good kind of way. Pleasant way.

As much as Sideswipe didn’t want this, he wasn’t opposed to the slow start, the little act to make some lubricant gather in his valve. And, surprisingly, Megatron gave them the time to do that, watching, stroking his spike languidly, but not rushing them. 

Sideswipe tried to relax, let his legs fall apart a bit further, tried to force away some of the tension in his frame, because that would only translate into tension in his calipers, and if… If he was supposed to take Sunstreaker’s whole damn fist, it would be best if he was relaxed. He hoped that would lead to the least possible amount of pain—and damage, if his calipers tried to stay in the way stubbornly.

Sunstreaker didn’t want to hurt him, but this might hurt anyway, no matter what they did. Best they could was try to reduce the chances of that. 

To that end, Sunstreaker played with his valve until there was a decent amount of lubricant in place. Then his brother cycled one deep ventilation and added a fourth digit to very little resistance from Sideswipe’s calipers.

And that was maybe the worst part, how… Easy it turned out to be. It shouldn’t have been. Taking a whole damn servo up his valve was meant to be a struggle.

But with how large Megatron’s spike alone was, and how many times he’d gotten hammered by it already, Sunstreaker could easily slip four of his digits into his valve, and when pulled out, pushed in, pulled back, tucked his thumb against his other digits and pushed again… There was some resistance as the widest part cleared his rim, but it was still too easy. It stung, but it wasn’t outright pain. There was enough lubricant to ease the passage.

And his valve had just gotten forced too far out of shape by Megatron. Sunstreaker slipped his entire servo in, up to his wrist, and felt Sideswipe’s valve flutter and clench against the intrusion, unused to the strange shape.

Tears fell from Sideswipe’s optics and he stared resolutely at the ceiling. He didn’t need and didn’t want any of the reminders of how they were being reforged to their new role in life.

“Overload him,” Megatron said once they’d gotten to that stage. He didn’t need to specify that Sunstreaker was to overload him with his servo, like this, because that really was obvious enough.

It shouldn’t even be too difficult. It didn’t hurt, so… What else was there to feel but pleasure? Sunstreaker was slow and careful, mindful when he began to move his servo in and out, and with every pass it became easier and the resistance of his rim lesser. He made sure to brush against sensors, and it felt good. Strange, because it wasn’t a spike and didn’t have the shape of one, but pits, it wasn’t bad. 

He didn’t want that. Primus, but he wished he would have hated it because it was Megatron that had ordered this. He wanted to hate everything even remotely related to the mech.

But instead his hips started to push into the thrusts of Sunstreaker’s servo and he had to bite back his moans. Sunstreaker didn’t slow down either, once it was sure he wasn’t hurting him, even by accident. The sooner they were done with this…

The better. And he was quickly, very quickly, driven towards an overload with Sunstreaker’s intent but gentle touch. He didn’t try to fight it. As much as he didn’t want the pleasure, he wanted this just over with.

It wasn’t his best overload ever, but it was far from being the worst, either. Sideswipe stiffened as he was pushed over that edge with one more entry of his twin’s servo, his valve clamping down until Sunstreaker had little hope of pulling back. Sideswipe moaned despite his attempt to keep silent–

Then there was a surprised gasp, from Sunstreaker.

Megatron had shoved his entire length up his brother’s empty valve without warning and that, that hurt. There was no lubricant to speak of, he hadn’t been prepared for it in any way…

But they still felt the sorrow over the fact it didn’t hurt as much as it once had.

Sunstreaker removed his servo once Sideswipe’s valve relaxed enough, and Megatron chose that moment to start moving in and out of his frame at a leisurely pace. “Sideswipe,” he said, and the twin tore his optics from the ceiling to glance down at him. “Get under your brother. On your back, helm to me.”

Now what? But Sideswipe moved regardless, turning around and sliding under Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker made the room for him, ending up straddling his shoulders, his servos propping him up on either side of Sideswipe’s hips.

They didn’t have to wonder what this was about for long. Megatron continued to rock into Sunstreaker, not so hard it would’ve been unbearable—nothing like he had earlier in the day—but it was far from comfortable either, no matter the lubricant that was slowly starting to gather in Sunstreaker’s valve–

Then, “Lick my spike, Sideswipe.”

...He was in the perfect position to do that, with Megatron’s spike disappearing into Sunstreaker’s valve right above his face.

He didn’t really want to, though. Pits, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to pleasure Megatron, and he didn’t want to be this close to Sunstreaker’s equipment either.

And he sure as pit didn’t want a front row seat to Megatron fragging Sunstreaker.

He hesitated for too long. “Lick mine or your brother will suck yours.”

Sunstreaker flinched at the thought, and at a thrust that jabbed into one of the recent welds of his. Megatron knew as well as they did how despicable the thought of doing that was to Sunstreaker, and… Sideswipe couldn’t put him through it.

Not again.

Sunstreaker did his best to keep him safe. He could return the favor. Sideswipe lifted his helm enough that his nasal ridge nearly brushed against Megatron’s groin and extended his glossa, letting it rubbed against the underside of Megatron’s spike on every pull out, every push back in. When Megatron’s engine rumbled a displeased note, he applied more pressure, moved his glossa a little more, put in a bit more effort just so nothing would happen to Sunstreaker—and that earned him a rev from the tyrant.

Good enough, it said. 

He kept it up even as Megatron’s pace increased as he neared an overload, and… When he overloaded, he pulled out entirely, his come splashing on the outside of Sunstreaker’s valve and dripping onto Sideswipe’s face.

He hoped it was over at that, but it wasn’t. “Open your mouth,” Megatron said, and there wasn’t much question about who he was talking to.

And not too much question over why the order was given, either.

He didn’t want it, so Sideswipe shook his helm in denial. His quiet no, never spoken out loud.

It went completely ignored. Megatron shoved Sunstreaker off of him, his brother landing onto his side on the berth beside him, and then one of the tyrant’s servos came down, yanking his jaw open. Before Sideswipe could do more than squeak in surprise, Megatron had already aimed and thrust his spike into his mouth, down his throat.

Sideswipe’s wail was muffled even before the intrusion constricted his vocalizer into silence. It hurt. His valve might’ve gotten a little more used to things; his mouth, not so much. And Megatron didn’t go easy, he didn’t take his time, didn’t wait for him to adjust in any way before he was moving in and out of this throat too fast.  

Sunstreaker moved to do… Something, anything, but Megatron merely backhanded him hard enough that his brother collapsed back onto the berth. Tears streamed from Sideswipe’s optics, not just over the treatment his frame was suffering, but also over the treatment Sunstreaker received, and the… Helplessness. There hadn’t been and there still wasn’t anything they had done that would have worked against Megatron. Megatron only got his way, every time. He got his pleasure as it suited him, he made them hurt just as he wanted to.

And they were powerless in the face of it all.

Bear it. Sideswipe tried, even as his frame arched off the berth, fighting with himself to not let every entry down his throat get to him... And he only succeeded because Megatron chased his completion fast, and reached it quickly. Before Sideswipe lost the battle with himself.

Before he would have expelled everything in his tanks like he already had too many times before in the past orns. Instead there was a spurt of transfluid that headed for his tanks instead of out of them, although Megatron pulled out before he’d finished coming, and most of the transfluid his spike was pumping out landed on Sideswipe’s face to join what there already was.

But… Nothing more came after that. Megatron left them laying there, used and abused while he moved to the edge of the berth and wiped himself clean in swift motions. “Return to the harem,” he instructed them, and then… Left, without a backwards glance, and despite the late hour.

Then they were alone, in Megatron’s berthroom, except this time they were together.

Sideswipe rolled onto his front, got on his knees, reached for Sunstreaker. His brother was dazed, dented, and he wasn’t sure about the continued integrity of some of his welds, but he was mostly fine. Physically, anyway.

In every other way… Sideswipe tried not to think about it. Not before they got the pit out of here, anyway. “Come on,” he said quietly, tugging and pulling until he had Sunstreaker to the edge of the berth and they both dropped down to the floor, then out the berthroom, through the lounge, into the hallway, and to the doors that opened to them for once. Skywarp was waiting on the other side, waving at them in greeting.

“Hope that went well. Do you need to see Knock Out?” he asked, giving each of them a once over, his gaze lingering on the side of Sunstreaker’s helm.

“Would probably be best to, just to be safe,” Sideswipe answered quietly, glancing at Sunstreaker. There probably wasn’t anything too dangerous going on, but it’d be nice to have a confirmation of that.

Skywarp nodded at that before he turned to lead the way back to the harem wing, the twins trailing behind him

“This is progress,” Knock Out noted on their injuries once he’d had a look at them. “So minor! My, if only you gave me this little to work on more often.” Sunstreaker growled at the suggestion behind the words, and Sideswipe couldn’t say he appreciated them a hell of a lot either. Do as they were told, please Megatron, and they wouldn’t get slagged every damn time. 

“Wouldn’t you be out of a job if we did?” Sideswipe asked just a little sharply. Hadn’t Knock Out said that earlier?

...How much earlier was it? Pits, it was hard to keep track of time. It felt like an eternity with so much happening, but it couldn’t have been that long.

“True, that,” the medic conceded.

They were sent on their way once everything was back in order and they’d had a cursory cleaning. It was late, so the berthroom became their destination and they crept past the cots, many of them already occupied by recharging mecha. Some of the mates were still awake, and they got a few waves of greeting that Sideswipe returned before they made it to the very back of the room.

In mutual understanding they laid down on their joined cots, Sunstreaker onto his back, and Sideswipe stretching up along his side, pressing the side of his helm to Sunstreaker’s shoulder and letting the sounds and vibrations of his brother’s frame surround him. 

That had been one of their most pathetic showings with Megatron. They’d barely even resisted, but… Primus, it was getting hard to keep up the will to fight, knowing it was futile, that Megatron was inevitable in everything he did… And knowing they’d get hurt, one way or another, every time they didn’t do as they were told. Not always physically, but the emotional hurt could be just as potent, if not more so.

And Megatron had apparently never even heard the word “mercy”. He had none to give in any damn situation. 

But if they did as they were told… It wasn’t tolerable, it would never be fucking tolerable, but it wasn’t as bad. Was that the best they could hope for in this situation? Not as bad?

It felt like that. 

They were going to get out eventually, it was just a matter of time until they found the way, but until then… Would it be worth it to not earn themselves as much pain? Go a little easier on themselves?

Even if it meant… Even if it meant pleasing Megatron.

But it was only temporary. This was only temporary. They’d have the last laugh still, when they walked out of here, ran away. Back to the freedom they deserved. The other mates, they might’ve been so brainwashed they were fine with this, but him and Sunstreaker would never be. He didn’t understand how the others had ever gotten used to all of this, how they’d grown so desensitized to it, but it was easy to count on himself to never gain that understanding.

This was just… Too fragging awful to ever get used to.

Not forever. They wouldn’t be here forever.

They just had to stay strong and rely on each other until they found their way out of this fucking hellhole.

Easy, right?

They could do it.

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

There were a few quiet days again, time to rest and recuperate and… Try to put everything behind them for a while, even if they knew it would come back to haunt them still, somewhere in the not too distant future. 

Three days later, it did.

They were in the entertainment room again, Sunstreaker drawing and letting the curious gawk his work over his shoulders, Sideswipe playing some manner of shooter game with Runamuck and Runabout.

They really loved their shooter games. Sideswipe’s argument was that you couldn’t beat virtual violence. It was a good way to work out their frustrations too, in a very bloody manner.

Those games were too damn realistic for anyone’s good, the next thing he knew his brother would be a trained soldier. Great entertainment, though.

The peace of it was broken when there was the faint sound of the main doors opening and closing coming down the hall, followed by unmistakable pedesteps. Starscream left the entertainment room to greet their mate even as the twins’ fuel pumps froze.

They hoped, ardently, that Megatron was here for someone else, that he just wanted to disappear into the room at the very end of the hallway with someone that wasn’t them. The chances would’ve been good for something like that, right?

But they weren’t so lucky. Megatron walked to the entertainment room’s door, had a look around, confirmed they were both present, and called them both by name.

Just so there was no question or misunderstanding of who he wanted.

Like last time, Megatron sat down on one of the couches where everyone could see him.

Then came the order. “Come here.”

Sideswipe swallowed hard, clutched onto Sunstreaker through their spark, but… Disconnected from the game he had busied himself with and slowly walked over to the tyrant. Sunstreaker set down his drawing tablet, cycled several steadying ventilations, and followed Sideswipe—holding just as tight onto him as he was being held onto, even if not physically.  

Moment of truth, wasn’t it? They had displeased Megatron last time. What about this time?

Starscream was standing in the doorway, wings spread, arms crossed, watching it all sharply. The other mates didn’t have the same scrutiny about them, but they were all watching, all as eager for Megatron’s attention as ever, and… Curious. Over how this would go, most likely. Last time hadn’t been so great, not to be on the receiving end of, and probably not so fun to witness either.

It was in their hands how this time would go. What would Megatron ask of them?

They came to stand in front of him, Sunstreaker meeting his burning gaze, Sideswipe staring at his pedes. Their spark was spinning wildly no matter how Sunstreaker tried to calm it, but he couldn’t exactly deny his own distaste and nervousness of the situation. How bad would Megatron make this?

“Sideswipe,” Megatron said, patting the space next to him. Sideswipe hesitated for a few precious seconds, but the moment Megatron’s optics began to narrow, he hurried over and sat on the couch next to the tyrant, stiff as they came. 

Next, “Coax it out.”

Sideswipe started crying on the spot. Not out loud, he made no sound, but tears began to run down his cheeks. “How?” he asked for clarity’s sake despite that, even with the risk of Megatron taking it as too much dallying.

He didn’t. “As you see fit,” was the answer he gave. Sideswipe nodded silently and reached over Megatron’s thigh to press his servo to his codpiece. More tolerable than using his mouth, and easier with the angle he was in, unless he wanted to get between Megatron’s thighs. But that wasn’t where he’d been told to go, and he wondered why–

–Up until Megatron addressed Sunstreaker. “Prepare your brother for me. Take Topspin’s cue.”

Using his mouth, in other words. And then… Sideswipe would get to take Megatron’s spike.

Their spark fluttered with utter desperation, but there was no way out of this, was there? They could refuse, like they had last time, and then Megatron would hurt them all over again… Likely find even worse ways to do so, either in public, or in private.

Or they could just do this, get it over with, and not suffer through any of that.

Indignity and crushed pride, or defiance at the price of pain and suffering. 

Sunstreaker’s next exvent shuddered, but under the optics of what felt like absolutely everyone, he got on the couch behind his brother. Sideswipe was shaking, as much as he didn’t forget to stroke Megatron’s spike cover just to keep him satisfied… But he lifted his hips for Sunstreaker and retracted his valve cover.

It was just Sunstreaker. No one else.

They could do this. It was better than the alternatives.

Sunstreaker knelt there, between Sideswipe’s legs, and brought his mouth to Sideswipe’s valve. He hadn’t done this often—had he ever?—but he relied on Sideswipe’s memories and his sensation to guide him as he slipped his glossa into the opening that felt like it was perpetually gaping now, and hunted for sensors the same way Topspin had. He didn’t have the experience, but feeling what Sideswipe felt… He found his way, and slowly but steadily lubricant began to gather in his brother’s valve.

He would be as prepared for Megatron as Sunstreaker could make him, if that would just ease the second part of this even some. 

But it wasn’t just him. Sideswipe was shuddering, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from his task of getting Megatron’s spike out. He’d gotten the cover to open for him with enough teasing of its seams. Part of the tip had revealed itself too, by now, and he worked it in his servo diligently, in all the ways that had… Pleased his past partners.

The partners he’d had in the life he would still get back to, one way or another.

This was just another step on the road to that end. He worked the spike until it had reached halfway out of its housing, at which point Megatron told him to get his mouth in there. That was… Actually sort of doable now with enough of the spike out in the open, even though he had to lean over Megatron’s thigh to do so.

But he did, even as his hips began to move on their own, hitching back against Sunstreaker’s glossa, his mouth—as Sideswipe took the tip of Megatron’s spike into his own, as he licked along the length of it, still worked his servo around it…

Until it reached full pressurization. “Enough. Get on your back,” Megatron said at that point, and Sideswipe pulled away to force himself to lay down on the couch, even knowing what was coming.

He was crying, he was terrified. Did he have any good reason to be? But Megatron was… He was evil, just plain evil. What he could do if he thought he was given a reason…

He’d have bad memory purges of that for the rest of his life. Wasn’t it reasonable enough to fear him?

But he laid down and let his legs be spread when Megatron’s servos landed on his thighs. One of the tyrant’s pedes went to the floor again, like he’d done with Sunstreaker, and would he do it again? Destroy his internals because he could, despite them doing as he wanted?

He didn’t. Megatron’s spike pushed into his valve, surprisingly slowly. There was some stretch, his calipers forced apart by the massive length, but there was also plenty of lubricant.

It could’ve been… A lot worse.

Even when Megatron started to move, his pace wasn’t hurried in the slightest, and it didn’t start hurting—wouldn’t stop feeling good.

Was that better than pain, though?

“Sunstreaker.” The golden twin looked up from his trance of watching Megatron’s spike disappear into Sideswipe’s frame time and time again. “Straddle his chest.”

He did, carefully climbing on top of Sideswipe.

What then? “Get his spike out and pressurized.”

Sunstreaker looked down at the closed cover, but Sideswipe opened that one for him too. His spike pressurized partially on its own, because it wasn’t as if his frame wasn’t responding to Megatron’s use of his valve—that had, once upon a time, not too long ago, inherently hurt because of their sheer difference in size.

Not so anymore.

...Not so anymore.

Sunstreaker wrapped his servo around the emerging spike and tried very hard not to think about how much he didn’t want to be touching Sideswipe’s equipment. Instead… Focus on the task at hand. Stroke, brush his thumb over the tip, make Sideswipe feel good no matter how neither of them wanted to be in this situation.

He wasn’t left alone to it for long before one of Megatron’s servos came up, a digit hooking under his chin and tilting his helm up. He knew what was coming even before Megatron’s lips descended on his, glossa pushing into his mouth—taking his enjoyment from it just as he was taking it from Sideswipe’s frame. 

Sunstreaker’s touch faltered on his brother. Megatron noticed; there was a growl of warning that had him focusing back on what he was doing, and… Not on what was being done to him. 

Megatron picked up his pace until Sideswipe was groaning despite his attempts to stay quiet, but pleasure was building in his frame under the use of his valve and the touch on his spike. He was moving restlessly under Sunstreaker, hips tilting into Megatron’s thrusts and jerking up into Sunstreaker’s servo, up until he bucked with a strangled sound and came, spike and valve both. His transfluid landed on Sunstreaker’s servo, some of it onto his chassis, and there was no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind that Megatron let himself be pulled into an overload by the clenching of Sideswipe’s valve, instead of being pushed into it involuntarily.

He painted the inside of Sideswipe’s valve with his own transfluid and bit down on Sunstreaker’s lip, but then… Then there was nothing but a possessive parting peck on Sunstreaker’s mouth before the tyrant pulled away, pulled out, stood up.

Tucked his spike behind its panel and left.

Sideswipe started sobbing the moment he was out of sight, a mess of transfluid and lubricant slowly leaking from his valve and his spike quickly depressurizing back into its housing. There were revving engines all around them, their brethren turned on by the show they’d received—and humiliation burned. Maybe it shouldn’t have. Hadn’t they already interfaced with this lot? Hadn’t all of them already seen them losing control of their own damn frames during the orgies?

But this was different. This wasn’t a signal turning them aroused beyond belief, and this wasn’t them forced into something.

This was them voluntarily giving Megatron what he wanted, voluntarily doing as they were told.

This was them giving up their fight in the sight of everyone else. It wasn’t them losing the fight in Megatron’s wing, out of sight.

It was them surrendering in public.

Sunstreaker glanced up when a shadow fell over them. Starscream met his gaze. “Welcome to the harem.”

( Next )

[untilspringdays]

Lovely Sins || Chapter 3

Summary: You were a researcher investing six strange beings that you didn’t quite understand. They had strange powers that you and your partner Mark Lee were tasked with testing the extent off. It was your typical day really but as time progressed between you and the seven of these men, you found yourself growing attached. Will the seven of these men restore some of your humanity? And could you help them escape?

Pairings: Reader x Super M (OT7)

Genre: Sci-fi AU || Angst, Fluff, Smut (Eventually)

Warnings: Violence, Experimentation, Cussing, Torture, Dark Themes. (Will have some dark things going on please read at your own risk!)

A/N: I still very much love this story. I love writing it. It just kinda flows out of me when I get started writing it. 

Word Count: 4.2 k

Previous || Master List || Next

Tag-list: @reiki-chan (Ask me or message me to be added!)

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding on to. Ten had stepped inside the containment and so far nothing bad was happening to Subject number 10. The three regarded each other, studied each other. You didn’t know what would happen next and you were afraid. 

Mark had his hand on your shoulder giving you a reassuring squeeze, trying to calm your anxieties. He was the first to break the silence that had built in the observation room. “88 and 4 seem tense, while Ten…” A small chuckle came from his lips as your partner observed the relaxed expression on Ten’s face. 

“I’m glad the two of you can be relaxed in this kind of situation.” Your gaze remained on three subjects in the room before turning down to tap out some notes on your tablet. 

“It will work out fine, I’m sure of it. Have faith in Ten and I.” Mark stated looking at you for a moment, before turning back to observe. 

The words had you turning your attention to Mark, gaze falling on his profile. His dark eyes watched the room below the two of you but you were certain he saw you staring. A smirk that appeared on his features only confirmed what you knew to be true. 

With a scoff and the roll of your eyes, your turned your attention back to the containment, ignoring the chuckle that came from your partner. The small playful moment ending right then as the two of you got back to actually doing your job. 

“He has gotten closer.” Mark hummed out, sounding somewhat pleased with this development. 

“88 and 4 are still cautious of him though.” You said quietly. “I’m betting they are both thinking he is just another researcher, which makes me wonder if Ten will do something to show he is one of them.” 

You knew that Ten wore subject clothes but in a place like this where anyone could easily get a hold of subject clothes, it was hard to trust as proof, at least for other subjects. There were very limited ways that Ten could get them to trust him. 

“The cameras are recording correct?” You asked. You knew the answer but you still wanted to ask and make sure. 

“When are the cameras not recording?” Mark asked, his voice teasing. 

You shoved him lightly with your currently free arm. “Shut up.” You said. “I just wanted to double check. You know how I am.” There was a small pout on your face from his teasing, but you knew he meant no harm. 

He let out a fake “Ow..” but you didn’t have to look to know there was a grin on his face. You could tell just from knowing him for a long time. 

Silence fell between the two of you once again, both of you watching and waiting on something, anything to happen between the three of the people in the room. Aside from his initial greeting, Ten hadn’t said anything, no words were spoken by the other two test subjects in the room. 

You wanted to push Ten, give him some instruction but you couldn’t. If you even spoke this whole test could be ruined, Ten could be in even more danger than he currently was. There was tension throughout your body. No matter how much you wanted to relax, you couldn’t. You had to trust subject 10 to be able to handle this situation. 

Your eyes were locked on the trio in the room as soon as Ten finally began trying to interact with the two companions. Your hand gripped tightly on your tablet as you waited for what would happen next. You didn’t even need to look at Mark to know he was engrossed in the situation just as much as you were. 

And just like that Ten had surprised his two researchers with his next move. In a mere second the space that had remained between the three subjects was closed to a respectable distance. That small moment Ten being his usual self but showing a new ability that neither Mark nor You had seen him show before, and never would see again. 

“You saw that right?” Mark asked, neither of you paying attention to the small talk that the three subjects were now making in light of Ten showing he was a test subject as well. 

“Uh-huh” You were dumbfounded to say the least. Your brain trying to process what exactly you had just witnessed. No matter how many times you had seen their strange abilities, it always surprised you whenever you saw them again. 

As soon as you collected yourself, you opened up Subject 10’s file, going to make the appropriate edit. “Just like 88..” You commented as you added teleporting to the long list of abilities Ten has displayed, but all of them, in the whole history of him being at this facility, he had only displayed them once. 

Mark’s eyes were still locked on the subjects in the containment, but you could tell his mind was thinking through all of the information on Ten. “How many abilities has Ten shown us so far?” He asked you knowing that you were looking at the information.

A small hum escaped you as you looked at the list for a small moment. “Of our known abilities? At least 40..” You commented, shuddering a bit as you remembered some of his more violent displays, even if he never hurt you or Mark. 

“None of them repeats?” He asked grimly already knowing the answer. 

“None of them repeats.” You remarked plainly, not likely the fact at all, but at least he showed a perfect mastery over his numerous abilities unlike 211. You didn’t understand Subject 10, he was a mystery for as long as he has been in the center. 

The three test subjects were just talking now. As much as you wanted to pay attention to every word they spoke, you couldn’t. Everything they were discussing was stuff you already knew since it was about their time at the center. Mark seems to pay attention more than you, but that was only to certain things that he didn’t bother to research when he joined your team. Things that had occured before he joined the center. 

As time passed you found yourself settled back into the chair. All of them seemed to get along, things were going well. There weren’t any hostile feelings left in the air between them. As you watched the three it seemed more and more like they were just old friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time. 

Mark has stepped out of the room for a moment, when one conversation caught your attention. 4’s familiar voice brought you out of your trance. 

“What did you do before you got to the center?” His question was directed at Ten, seeing how he already knew 88. 

“I don’t remember.” Ten replied, the conversation becoming more serious than it was precious moments before. The bright and wide grins seemed to vanish as they all intently listened to what eachother had to say. 

“I honestly don’t remember anything before the center. I barely remember an incident… then vaguely being told about the center and how I was being taken here, and then everything after that is just the center. Nothing before.” Ten said, his face looking to the ceiling of the containment as he pondered over his past. 

Well that was more than he ever told you. Maybe it was because of the fact he might have deemed it unimportant. Even if it was very little information it was still new. A new little crack in the mystery that was Ten. Maybe you would have to pry your higher ups for more information on him, see if they could do some digging for you if you could convince them that it was worthwhile. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me how the two of you ended up here?” Ten asked, his tone cautious. 

88 was the first to speak up. “I’m one of the newer ones here.. I haven’t been here as long as Baekhyun, or even you. I ended up here shortly after I discovered my jumping ability. One wrong call from one accidental sighting and I was brought here..” 

88’s dark gaze drifted over to the older male sitting beside him. “I never expected to find someone I knew here..” Kai stated. “I don’t think I was supposed to know until my first escape. As soon as I stepped out of that room, that containment. I could feel something familiar but I didn’t know how to explain it. I don’t think I can still.”

So 88 could feel something every time he left his containment. There was something that was drawing him to Subject 4. What though? Just another question to every vague answer. 

Baekhyun nodded when Kai had mentioned a connection. “Like him I could feel it too, but it wasn’t until he stepped into my containment that I did.” 

You never expected Baekhyun’s gaze to land right on you even though he couldn’t see through the glass panel you were standing behind. Had he known you were there the whole time? 

His gaze fell back to the others as he spoke up again, “I can only assume one of them opened the door when Kai was out of his room.” Baekhyun shrugged sitting back. “I know they are the only ones that can open them, no matter how hard I try.”

Ten let out a small hum, clearly knowing the truth behind everything that had happened. “Probably so.” So he was choosing to hide the fact that he had somewhat of a close bond with the two of you? Or was he waiting for a better chance to reveal the truth. “Didn’t you say you got it open one time? Or was that because of your jumping ability?” Ten asked turning the subject away from the researchers. 

“I was able to jump through all of the times I was able to get out.. The first time I didn’t think they had anything in place but afterwards. I wouldn’t be surprised if every time I got out was intentional..” You could tell from the look on his face he was coming to realize that it was the truth. 

Ten spoke up next. “Well at least you have reunited with someone you know, and clearly they have at least some kindness to them to allow the two of you to stay together.” You couldn’t tell if that statement was a compliment or a suggestion to let them stay together permanently. 

Baekhyun nodded. “Yeah, that is one positive at least.”

“The researchers seem nice. To me, it seems like they are just doing their job. I don’t think they are the ones that want to keep us here.” Ten spoke up in your favor of being another positive even if he was hiding his connection with the two of you. 

No. You didn’t want to keep them here. Yes you wanted to find out exactly what was going on with their abilities, and their differences from regular people, but keeping them trapped? No. You were sure there better ways of keeping their abilities in check, and allowing them to keep their lives instead of confining them to this space, but alas you were just doing your job. Doing what you were told to do, keeping the life you had left. 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to talk with either of them. At first they seemed nice but then everything became repetitive, there wasn’t a point in talking.” Baekhyun commented, causing you to hesitate in your notes for a small moment. He continued. “The girl.. She has been here longer. She was here when I first got here. The guy.. He didn’t show up for a couple years.” 

88 Seemed to agree with what the older had said. “What they approach you with is very repetitive. I have realized that, but I haven’t been here long enough to give a good judgement either.”

“I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t remember my past or if it’s because I have had more interaction time with our two researchers, but.. I like them.” Ten stated. There was honesty in Ten’s tone. Something he never really admitted so directly. It was always in a teasing or joking form, but not this time. “I like them a lot.” 

The statement had made you paused once again. You understood his situation on the subject. If his affection, if his friendliness towards the two of you was due to his isolation or if it was actually something real. 

The door opening brought you back from your musing, Mark poking his head in. “Higher ups said to wrap it up. They think they have spent too much time together.”

You turned back to him. “But-” You started, only to be cute off. 

“No buts, unfortunately. They said you were already pushing it with the whole keeping 4 and 88 in the same place. They can’t allow too many changes in such a short amount of time.” Mark stated knowing how you worked and how the Higher ups worked. 

You let out a low drawn out sigh. “Fine. You can grab him from the containment then, since you agreed to this whole thing in the first place.” You grabbed your things before heading down the stairs, pausing to watch Mark open the containment to grab Ten. You lead the two men out the room. Many new questions from this interaction weighing on your mind. 

As Mark stepped into your office first, you turned to Ten. “Are you going to join us?” Basically, it was an open invitation to come inside your office something you didn’t extend to him often. 

Ten shook his head. “No. Everything you guys need is on the recordings, I just want to sleep if I’m honest. The excitement wore me out.” 

You nodded at his comment, a little confused, but not questioning it. “Alright, see you in a few hours then.”

✦

After you and Mark reviewed every little detail in the footage, every little word, every shift in posture, any hint as to something new, you decided you needed a break from watching the video feed and check in on some of the other subjects. As you went to step out of the office Mark called to you. 

“Take a break and get some sleep after you do your rounds. You need some sleep, I will watch them and do some research for a bit okay?” You tried to argue with him but of course you didn’t get anywhere. He was as hard headed as you were sometimes. 

Ten was asleep like he had said. 2 was inside his room not paying any attention to you at all as he was writing in a notebook. 109 didn’t acknowledge you either, which wasn’t shocking. 4 and 88 were the same as ever. 211.. 211 had more energy than you could deal with. 

While you appreciated his bright attitude, your work never allowed you to match his energy. You were always worn and tired. Maybe one day, one day there would be a spot where his energy could be used up like you knew he wanted. 

You stood in his room, a small grin on your face as he flashed you a big bright one when you stepped inside. 

“Are things going okay with you 211? Food okay? Are you entertained enough?” You asked, getting the basics out of the way. 

“I told you to call me Lucas.” He said in his usual sweet way, his deep voice always making you relax despite the stress on your shoulders. 

“But yes. The food is good, and I’m doing pretty good too. Though, I am going to need a new cup for my pencils and pens.” He said with a sheepish chuckle, to which you let out a small giggle of your own. 

“Again 211?” Your tone was teasing, clear to show that you were joking. You understood his situation and how it was for him, and his ability. 

“I will put in the request for you, and maybe have some back-ups lined up too. With more practice I’m sure one day you will be able to get free roam privileges. I hate having to keep you here.” You said to him. His personality was too bright, he was too friendly to be stuck in the room. 

“Nah don’t worry about it too much. I prefer being in here so that way I don’t mess up anything important for you guys. One day though. One day I will be able to get out of here.” His bright smile was back in no time.

“Alright then, I will drop it for now.” You said keeping your tone friendly. “While I hate to cut this short, I’m going to have to jump to the small test I need from you now. I need to get some rest, I have had a long few days.” You didn’t bother to hide how you felt from 211. He always understood no matter the situation, remaining positive as can be, and you apprenticated it. You carefully placed the small egg shaped object on the table that was kept in the center of the room. 

“It’s not a problem.” Lucas stated, clearly not minding that you needed to get some sleep. “Make sure you take care of yourself too though since you always make sure I do.” He said looking at you, the smile on his face restoring some of your brightness. 

He had approached the table, his hand reaching out for the object you had placed at its center. Only to pause a small distance away to look at you. A single nod from you had him closing the distance, a single relaxed finger touching the object. 

Like all of the other times you have seen it, cracks split their way from where he touched the egg shape, completely engulfing it in no time before it completely fell into dust. No matter the object material, no matter the object’s size. It was always the same, turning to a fine dust that left no resemblance of the object it was before. 

You noted some things down on your tablet for a moment as Lucas just stood there and watched you, waiting for you to be done. When you were you smiled up at him, a real smile instead of the fake ones you gave him sometimes. 

“Thank you for working with me. It makes me really happy that you are.” You said. 

That signature grin was back on his face in no time at all. “I’m glad I can make your day a little easier Y/N. Anything it takes to get used to whatever this is.”

“Alright, thank you again. I will be going now. My bed is calling my name.” You said to him, your hand with the tablet falling to your side, not taking long to reach the door. 

He called out to you before you completely exited. Your attention falling back on the tall man once again. “Sleep well Y/N.”

Your real smile was on your face in no time again, a silent thanks. As you stepped out of his containment, you made a small futile wish. You wanted all of your subjects happy, like him, again. 

✦

It should have caught you off guard when Ten didn’t follow the two of you back to your office for discussions. Just passing it off as him wanting to go to his room to get some sleep, that his excitement for interacting with the other subjects kept him up and wore him out. You should have pressed more now that you were thinking about it, but you didn’t.

And now? Looking at the situation you were facing? You should have known something was up. Something had changed, and there was something you missed. That interaction.. The way he reacted. You should have known, you really should have known. 

You were quickly moving down the hallway that was your sector, your gaze looking to Mark as he stepped out of 211’s containment but as soon as he spotted you he called your name trying to get you to stop. When you didn’t, he stepped into your path, his arms coming out and capturing you preventing you from moving forward. You had to see 109, you had to. You struggled against his hold. Not bothering to notice the guards stationed outside the two doors at the end of the hall.

“Y/N. Going to see him right now would just make things worse..” He grunted out as he fought your movements for a moment before finally you gave up knowing he could easily over power you if he wanted. 

“But.. I have to make sure he is okay..” You said, your tone showing just how much this event was affecting you. “We.. It felt like I was finally making progress with him..” Your body slouched, the adrenaline in your body a moment before when you first found out 109 was hurt quickly fading allowing exhaustion to take its place. Mark was supporting your weight at this point with his hold. 

“I know..” Mark said, pulling you closer against him, knowing the amount of mental stress you had been under lately wasn’t helping with your current situation. 

Mark turned you around and pulled you into his side, walking you in the opposite direction you were heading. Heading back to the offices. He pulled you inside his office which sat opposite to your own. He helped you settle into the chair across from his desk before taking a seat in his chair. His office was always a little neater than yours, never as many papers scattered around. 

Your arm was settled on the arm rest, hand cradling your head as your gaze remained to the ground. 

“Who did it?” You asked, tone sounding defeated. After you got the message you didn’t pay attention to the details, just the fact that 109 was hurt.. All of your progress was gone.. 

“Y/N…” Mark started his tone clearly showing you wouldn’t want to hear it. 

“Who. Did. It?” You stated emphasizing you wanted to know. You had to know. 

There was a heavy pause before he spoke again. “Subject 10.” 

Everything around you froze. Your blood ran cold. You.. What.. Ten..? You.. You couldn’t believe it. Subject 10 never showed a history of violence… He just.. What….?

“Are… Are you sure? How.. He didn’t seem to be the type..” You said, your voice becoming meeker. As much as he bugged you, you never imagined him doing something like this. 

Mark let out a sigh, understanding your thought process. He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s him.. In the footage you can see him get into 109’s containment before the video feed cuts off. We…” He paused assessing his word choice for a moment before he spoke again. “We assume that he used two different abilities he hasn’t displayed before to get inside, and then one again when he shut off the camera feed. By the time we got to the room, the damage was already done.”

You rubbed your hand over your face as you processed the information. “So…”

“He didn’t fight us taking him back to his containment. His free roam privileges have been revoked, and he has no right to get them back any time soon. Also we aren’t allowed to step foot into Subject 10’s and 109’s room for the next few days. Orders from higher ups.” Mark informed you. 

“Is Subject 10 okay?” You asked, trying to fully grasp this situation. So much was being thrown at you. 

“He is fine.. He refuses to speak up about what exactly he has done to 109 and why he did it. Not even I could drag it out of him.” Mark sounded defeated too.

As much as you wanted to go down there and speak to him yourself you know you couldn’t. Your bosses would be on your case in no time.. They didn’t tolerate any event like this, and there were certain things that had to be done when it did occur. “So, We are just supposed to ignore two of our subjects until further notice?” You asked, clearly not wanting to do as you were directed. All Mark offered in reply was a nod. A sullen silence falling over both of you. 

A soft knock at Mark’s door pulled the both of you out of your depressive mood. It seemed one shock wasn’t enough for either of you today. As soon as you opened the door, you were both met with Subject 2. 

The shock of the moment causes you to slip up. 

“Taemin?” You asked. The quick small smile on his face at his real name didn’t go unnoticed.

“I heard about the incident, and I might be able to help on the matter.” The older man said.

Mark who was more level headed than you at the current moment answered. “What is it Subject 2?” 

[nurfhurdur]

Hard Enough Left Modern AU

Because I miss Ruth

There hadn't been activity on that particular channel in weeks. Every few days Emily would log on, only to be dissapointed to see that nothing had changed. The only activity being comments from other viewers asking when to expect another video.

It had gotten to the point where she had checked to make sure she was still subscribed, and she edited her settings to make sure she'd get a notification the next time there was anything uploaded. It was another three weeks after that, that she had checked the time on her phone to see the banner across the screen.

Rushing through the last of her course work, she threw her backpack on the floor and reached for her tablet. She tapped a fingernail against the screen impatiently as YouTube finally loaded, hitting pause quickly so she could dig her headphones out of the nightstand drawer.

She'd binged Ruth's videos in the span of a few days. She didn't know how girls on YouTube did it, especially with a DIY channel. Starting back from the first videos posted a few years before, the video quality had improved, the girl's editing had improved, and she'd become more comfortable in front of a camera. From cooking, and baking, to personal desk size succulent gardens, or organizing and purging a closet, somehow the girl had made a name for herself on the internet and the most mundane of tasks seemed more interesting when discussed and explained on this girl's channel.

Comfortable in her bed, she finally pressed play and tilted her head as the personalized graphic of a constellation came on screen, which the girl had done a tutorial on also....

When did she have the time to do all this?

She was pulled from her thoughts, and rather startled, to see an exhausted looking version of the girl who ran the channel. Ruth's dark hair was pulled in to a messy bun, circles under her eyes and she looked like she hadn't taken the time to get out of her pajamas. What was most startling, was what looked like a medical oxygen tube beneath her nose.

Looking up into the camera, she waved vaguely with her usual greeting before continuing.

"I've never really shared this, because I never had any reason to-" She held up the small tank of oxygen sitting beside her and grinned flatly. "-but now I do.....so today's video is a bit of a PSA."

Her expression dulled and she stared at the screen a moment. "Get out of the shot."

"I'm not in the shot," came a low response from the corner.

Ruth addressed the camera again. "I have help today."

A few clips were edited in of Ruth and....was that Jesse Hudson?

The Piston Cup driver?

The two were figuring out where to stage Ruth's things, and Ruth watched in exasperation before telling him to leave her stuff alone and let her do it.

"I'm just trying to help."

"This isn't my first video or anything-....no, leave the tank there-"

"Wh-"

"Because that's where I keep it when I'm working here-"

The clip cut back to Ruth's slightly more professional expression and she reached for the camera. "For those of you who keep up, yes, that was Jesse Hudson. Jesse, say hello."

"Hey." He muttered with a glance up from his phone.

"We're twins. Before you flood my inbox, I'm older, it's not that exciting to have a celebrity sibling and-....." Ruth paused and stared at the screen again. "Did you just kick the footboard of my bed?"

Just barely in the frame, Jesse's Nikes could be seen as he kicked off from the bed again, spinning the chair slowly. "Yeah, cause you lie."

"I do not lie. You're- you know what, this is my video, and I'm not spending ages editing it so now the world can see how sulky you are."

The chair rolled further in to frame and Jesse only shrugged a shoulder before going back to his phone.

Ruth took a slow breath, for effect or because she needed it, it was hard to tell, before launching in to a lengthy explanation of why she had been absent for so long.

"I don't have an actual diagnosis, no one can give me a specific name for it-"

The more she spoke, the more emotional the video became. The natural lighting of her bedroom made the video a little surreal, the way it picked up the threatening shine in the girl's eyes wasn't staged, or planned, or even wanted. It was apparent that a portion had been cut. She looked like she had been crying, and instead of lazing in the background, Jesse was sitting beside her at her desk, chin rested on his hand as he looked between her and the screen silently.

"Some of you wonder how I have time to do any of this, some of you are very rude in your questioning of how I have time-"

The clip had been edited again and a more composed looking Ruth stared at the camera before speaking and glancing over her shoulder. "Our older brother thought there was a problem and I'm sure Jesse is getting lectured for something...."

She'd edited captions in, and color coded them for each brother. They appeared at the bottom of the screen while she made a show of her impatience on camera.

"Can you for once in your life-"

"She asked me to help-"

Ruth made eye contact with the camera a moment before continuing, explaining that her illness started back in the early 2000s. Doctors had originally treated her for bronchitis, then walking pneumonia. X-rays, blood tests, screenings and different antibiotics had all been tried with only mininal results. There was the possibility of an autoimmune disorder but they hadn't started that round of tests yet.

"I don't always have an oxygen tank, this is a bit of a new development...." She eyed the small cylinder beside her and it was obvious to see that she was still trying to wrap her head around it. With a shaky and watery smile she looked back at the camera.

"It's extremely hard to be looked at the way people do when you have something like this basically tied to your side."

She ignored her twins' return to his chair beside her.

"For some it's an insulin pump, for me it's an oxygen tank, for others it's chronic pain. We know we have it, while the general public tends to look at us like we're looking for sympathy or leaching the system. Just because it's an invisible disease doesn't mean it isn't there."

She looked at her brother before leaning back in her computer chair. Drawing her knee up, she wrapped an arm around it.

"Where had we gone the other day? Was it the grocery store-"

"Doctor appointment."

"Oh, yeah. It was." Ruth frowned. "I've been issued a handicap sign for the mirror of my car....they haven't sent the new license plate yet. I didn't even want to use it but it was a really bad day for me. My family convinced me to use it to park as close as possible, and then wanted to get me a wheel chair."

She pursed her lips, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and looked in to the camera.

"Some middle aged woman came right up to me and told me she thought it was horrible that I would do such a thing for a closer space. That as a young woman in my twenties, I was more than capable of walking the extra hundred feet and had no right to be using my grandparents' issued sign like that."

She looked away from the camera and swiped a tear from her eye. Barely seen on camera, it looked like Jesse might have nudged her chair with his foot.

"I was so upset I showed her my signature on the back, and then my driver's license. Just because I'm in my twenties doesn't mean-"

She shook her head and sighed while rubbing her forehead.

"It's hard enough for people like myself to be so restricted when we're supposed to be 'enjoying our youth'...don't be that person. Just.....take a moment to realize that we're not always how we appear. It's a smack of pride to even have to use that handicap sign. I just stared at it hanging from the rearview mirror, convincing myself not to take it back down for some complete stranger to then treat me that way?"

"That was the appointment they gave you the tank." Jesse muttered lowly.

"It was." She agreed. "Like that wasn't a hard pill to swallow already...."

There was a brief pause, and it was obvious she was mentally shaking herself. She diverted the topic somewhat, sitting up straighter and getting composed.

"So that's where all my time comes from. This started as a hobby a few years ago and because of you-" she gestured to the screen. "-faithfull viewers and subscribers, I've networked with a few different small businesses, I work from home. I have my Etsy shop, I've been able to review different products and be sponsored by those companies. If you haven't visited, be sure to check the links in the description. There's my Etsy shop, Instagram, Twitter, and links to my favourite channels."

As an afterthought, she added. "Maybe I'll do more videos on this, I'm not really sure. Leave your thoughts in the comments."

It was her usual send off, but for some reason it meant so much more after a fifteen minute video explaining something so personal.

"Remember guys, there's always a reason to smile. Until next time."

The personalized LittleDipperCo. appeared on screen alongside the subscribe button and list of links before the next video in the playlist began to buffer.

She hit cancel and set the tablet aside, trying to digest the last fifteen minutes. She'd ordered from the Etsy shop, LittleDipperCo. before and had recieved a little handwritten note alongside all the little items she'd ordered.

Stickers, bookmarks, a personalized mug for her dad, the earrings she was currently wearing....because she'd ordered so much and had been so patient, Ruth had added a few small items and a personal thank you card.

She was her favorite shop, there was something unique about LittleDipperCo.-creations by RuthAnne- that had always stood out to her.

Grabbing her tablet, she went back to find the link and glanced up at her open doorway in surprise when her brother appeared.

"Did you see what he's saying about me?"

"What who is saying-"

"Hudson thinks he's being funny-"

"Get off of Twitter, Alexander."

Alex held his phone up and read the time stamp. "An hour and a half ago-"

Emily glanced back at the upload time of Ruth's video. It was only about half an hour old.

Jesse Hudson was apparently roasting her brother in that video.

She blinked a few times and hid a smirk, busying herself with reaching for a hair tie. "Don't you have some kind of conference to get ready for?"

Another alert popped up as he made a show of leaving her doorway and Emily shook her head while clicking the link.

Let's lighten the mood! PSA- BLOOPERS AND REAL TALK.

[cheyz5303470]

Week 5

This week we are exploring freehand drawing, the tasks challenged me and pushed me to think in a different way. 

Activity one: 

The first task we were asked to draw various things, the first being straight lines by drawing free hand (Fig.1). I learnt that locking your shoulder and elbow could give you the straightest outcome but I do need a lot more practise. This paired with the dot activity (Fig.2) I found that rotating the paper also really helped to ensure a straight line, and looking where your next point is. The other tasks helped develop a sense of depth to my drawings, and taught me to give shapes volume. The perspective task (Fig.4) made me realise how difficult drawing in perspective is.

Activity Two: 

The Olay bottle activity I found extremely fun, it challenged me to think and adapt to the task. I started out with concept sketches and drew multiple different versions and tried to stay within the constraints. I used the knowledge from the previous task to add volume and imply depth and curves to my bottles. The first attempt I deemed shabby and I think its because I wasn't fully feeling my pencil, once I changed over to pen I had a lot more success. I have always found that sketching in pencil frustrates me because I get lead on my hand and I drag it across the page so pen for ideation makes me happy. I then decided to add colour and it really came to life.

The second stage for me was to develop some of the sketches in a bit more detail. I ended up with 4 shapes, that I needed to digitally render. Again I decided to colour them and grid them into the size restraint of 100mm x 65mm.

After I had made my drawings I realised that to make the fourth bottle on photoshop was a bit out of my comfort zone. With the tutorial I had to watch it back at least 3 times and find other help online, some of Robs tools were hidden which meant I couldn’t fully understand the tutorial. The photoshop composition I found extremely hard, I can do this in illustrator however photoshop is a whole new ball game. 

If I had more time, I wouldn’t make it as dark as I have, however I think it really implies form. Another thing I’d do again is to try and draw with my tablet and see if I have better success with my line work, I only realised about the smooth tool at the end! The activity has helped me develop so many skills all in one class.