#poly solves everything

[jalpeppers]

I miss them…

[miraculousdeservesbetter2024]

Love square shippers and chlonette shippers are always butting heads and always pinning the ships against each other, but I’m over here on team Chlodrienette. Why??? Because bro, Chlodrienette is super underrated! Why can’t both girls have Adrien AND each other instead? ❤️ Let the dumb adorkable teens reform their dumb blond girlfriend! ✌��

Let’s spread love, not hate!😝

[meloethelavendeer]

Prefacing this by saying i love krusie, but:

Every time somebody breaks up suselle for krusie instead of polyshipping an angel dies

Every time somebody makes art of noelle being visibly upset and distressed by krusie happening an angel dies

Like do you really need to break up the adorable canon ship to make your best friends to lovers ship work. Do you really need the transbian out of the way that bad.

The hallway scene in chapter 2 makes it fairly clear noelle is actually pretty chill with susie and kris hanging out. She doesnt seem mad if only a little bit flustered.

She asks susie to come do work with her and corrects herself to add kris, clearly respecting and supporting the two as friends.

Meanwhile later in the game a similar scene plays out and she starts shaking berdly at him merely mentioning a crush on susie. Like you can reason she did nothing to kris in this scene because they arent explicitly saying they have a crush on susie and its infront of susie but still even despite this she never brings this up to them again and even has them as a sort of wingthem for alot of the chapter. All this to say noelle is at least tolerant of kris and susie being a thing and heavily implied to be open to being in a polycule.

This is to say even if you do wanna break up suselle for krusie, which sucks, at least portray her accurately. Dont make her pissed off. Whenever i see art of kris and susie kissing with noelle in the background fuming i just. It makes me mad.

Alot of you just need to know polyamory exists and see that it fits perfectly here. Krusielle is litterally so much better and in character then breaking up suselle for krusie.

I see people justify it with "oh but noelle is obsessive / toxic" which she isnt and also "but suselle makes me uncomfortable" which is like. Ok who am i to invalidate your feelings but. How does that even happen.

Krusie is a valid and awesome ship, i love kris and susies dynamic i really do, but if you need to break up suselle to do it then you need to reanalyse the game.

Plus as said krusielle is the best ship in any media ever so :P

[heretherebedork]

They could have literally been the happiest three men in all the world but nooooo two of them had to get so jealous and possessive they lost their minds instead of just dating him.

[stormyelliotwritez]

Omg i LOVE your hcs with Wade, Logan, and ftm reader so much. I never really see ftm stuff for them so it's really nice to see that. It would be amazing if you could make another hc post with both of them.

YES I WOULD LOVE TO

DATING WADE AND LOGAN AS FTM! READER

hehehehehehheehehe i love them

they buy you all the stuff you don’t have like a binder and somehow wade gets you t and you just don’t ask questions

they’re so so chill about it like they don’t question it and they accept you

logans all about showing ya the manly things you wouldn’t have done as a kid so you guys so fishing and cut wood and everything

wades so silly and hes always making lighthearted jokes about it

they’re both so cuddly so when you’re feeling down they’ll pick ya up (most trans guys are short so you short and pickupable) and carry you to the couch or bed to cuddle

wade helps you with your t-shots if you want because logan gets antsy around needles

when you get dysphoric, you usually end up wearing one of their shirts or hoodies and usually curled up in you guys bed/nest with them (im a logan nests truther)

they teach you all the guy stuff like how to shave and how to style your hair and how to do all that other stuff

wade has money from merc work so he spoils you with logans help like you get new shirts and pants and cool shoes and all sorts of stuff

they call you all the guy pet names like handsome and baby boy and cute little guy

they make fun of you for height like all the time but its playful and lighthearted

[fluffypotatey]

I wish the musical had kept the poly. Your name is Elphaba, when you are young, your father is often busy and away and your mother is often lonely. She drinks, does drugs, is a mess. A very nice handsome traveling glass blower often comes to your house, and your mother is less lonely. She seems very happy, lively, and that man is super nice to you, so you like him. Don't even notice when those two go to be alone. Your dad gets home, he's not even mad about the strange man in his house. In fact, he seems super fascinated by him, and he becomes extremelly close to the guy.

This doesn't apply to your current situation in the present day at all

poly not only would have saved Elphaba/Glinda/Fiyero but also her own parents 🫠

and like. yeah, here she sees through her family a happy poly relationship that isn’t viewed as weird or bad. just a normal relationship

and then Elphaba goes to Shiz, meets Glinda (maybe they’re meeting is still the same, and Elphaba’s greeness is still viewed with prejudice. or maybe not. maybe was able to have a better support group through her family) and meets Fiyero

and maybe, in a different timeline, all three of them would be happily together. maybe Elphaba wouldn’t have the guilt of betraying her friend with her own crush like she does

maybe 🫠

[solardrop]

ok collins x robby x abbot final answer

[dragon-flies-72]

The answer to a love triangle is ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS make it poly

I cannot fathom people who don't just make it a poly relationship it solves litterally everything. (and i mean a triangle as in an actual triangle like 'Character A likes Character B but Character B likes Character C but Character C likes Character A' because anything else is not a fucking triangle do you even understand shapes you goddamn morons)

[bluelizard100]

Does anybody else get this killer idea for a fic and then when you open a doc to write everything just disappears from your brain

Here’s another thought since that’s all I can manage 💔

Poly 141!!

141 that just can’t split from each other after retirement. Soap gets shot, discharged, and they all leave, finding their own ways to be discharged.

Price who has always wanted a wife, a family, but can’t make himself leave his team.

Gaz who misses the fleeting connections he used to make on leave after missions, missing going out and bringing a pretty woman home with him.

Soap who’s losing his mind each day he isn’t allowed to sink his teeth into something sweet and soft, yearns to be the one holding rather than the one being held.

Ghost, who solves the problem.

He brings home a sweet thing he found working at a gas station. “Trying to pay for school,” she said nervously when he asked what she was doing working at such a dump.

So naturally, he saved her. He’s gotta do something about the guilt that eats away at him day after day.

What better way to absolve him than to give an angel a comfy life?

John doesn’t let you go back to school. You belong here, with them. You’re part of the team, one of theirs, they’ll take care of you.

Kyle is enamored, spends all his free time making sure you get to spend some time in the sun with him, going on walks and forcing you to talk about anything and everything you’ve ever enjoyed.

Johnny paws at you and forces you into his lap, nuzzling into your neck and coddling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Simon watches, notes your every move. It’s no surprise to him when you try to escape, and he dries your tears for you while John punishes you.

Y’r stuck ‘ere, doll. Best get used to it, yeah? We’ll take care o’ ya.

[passive-t-u-m-b-l-r-user]

God forbid Kairi have to find a new dream that isn’t being with Sora

[appleshy-king]

with few exceptions i don't ship any of the m6 with any of the princesses but I wanted to challenge myself and do exactly that; I combined a bodyguard au and an arranged marriage au and came up with this! - an au where bearing an element of harmony comes with a union to one of the princesses, and serves functionally as both a spouse and/or adviser, and a bodyguard.

been calling this either the harmony marriage au, or the elements of marriage lol

Rainbow immediately addresses the elephant in the room and all but volunteers to form a union with Luna; something she does partly to prove she isn't afraid of anyone or anything, but also because… look man she said she was sorry and she's gonna start her new rule with everyone against her - someone has to be there for her. Celestia especially approves of this union, as, even if these marriages are largely political, the element of Loyalty would make a true companion for a pony like Luna. Despite that, I think their start would be difficult, given all the ways the two are opposites… but ultimately flying by moonlight is just as nice as flying during the day, and the long stretches of peaceful nights give them plenty of time to get to know each other.

Cadance solves the unbalanced issue and forms a union with both Pinkie and Fluttershy. There's no limit to virtues that are compatible with Love, but Laughter and Kindness just have that little something extra that catches her attention, nevermind how stinkin cute they are. All three take to their new marriage well. It’s especially helpful that Pinkie and Fluttershy have a pre-established friendship that could easily remain platonic, or turn romantic or queer-platonic; there’s also the fact that Cadance herself was once a humble pegasus raised by earth ponies before being thrust into this royal life, which could be why they caught her eye in the first place. 

(Shining is still here, as someone needs to train these girls in the art of guarding, and their relationship is still active (although PinkieShy would not be considered his wives); bc if there’s one thing I’m going to do with the princess of love, it's show off some poly pride!)

Twilight would, at this point, ““have her choice”” between Generous Rarity or Honest Applejack; either would be fitting for her new title as the princess of Friendship, and both are good ponies who she could rely on. However, given just how much Twilight’s life is about to be upended with new, well, everything - ultimately Rarity turns out to be her best match. She’s generous with her patience and tact in a way AJ isn’t quite, and more importantly she understands the ins and outs of the high class, making her a real asset in Twilight’s transition to royalty. Nevermind that the two were maybe already a little smitten before their union even took place…

This leaves Applejack sort of “auto-paired” with Celestia. At first Applejack seems like a horrible choice for a princess who is practically a queen, given how very little she knows about this life, and the way the upper class look down on her, but it ends up that her more open/harsh honesty that would have maybe been too much for Twilight in her new role is actually perfect against Celestia. It takes Applejack a bit to learn how to hold her tongue in royal public but she learns to play the game in her own way, and her willingness to speak openly and bluntly with Celestia - in private - is so refreshing to Celestia, who hasn't had a pony tell her like it is in ages. That said, i think this learning curve takes quite some time to even itself out, and in the beginning they spend a lot of their marriage clashing with each other, though ultimately i see Applejack as a respectful enough horse that her southern charm does just that, charming the princess in a way she couldn’t expect.

The six are still all friends with each other, although given the sister pairs some of them see each other more often; Twilight, Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy are a bit closer in that sense, while Applejack and Rainbow consider each other best friends. I’d be willing to say maybe something is going on between them, if i didn’t think that went against what the element of loyalty stands for, but there’s definitely rumors…

[kestrelteens]

Whew! I really really loved this set so much that I had to convert, well, almost everything?

The Nostalgia Living by @awingedllama has been my fave ever since it came out and I was just waiting for an ounce of my converting motivation to come back to get down to business. And it finally happened!

Because there are 50+ items in this set and it would take me 2 hours to list all of them, I will link this handy dandy catalog the original creator made so you can see what you're getting: RIGHT HERE. All of the objects are fairly low poly so you don't need to worry about that.

Some important information + previews can be found under the cut!

Enjoy & have fun! ♥

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

grab the collection file here

There is a gaming console override included! Well, the console is buyable in the catalog and the override is for the controller so you need that package. It will conflict with any other overrides you have!

ALSO, 'cause there are some adorable vintage frames included in the set, I thought I could make them into changeable sim portraits! Now your sim family's portraits can match the fireplace (which is functional, also).

A lot of the items are repositoried to eachother! The shelving system, the couch, I did make note of that in the folders so you know what to download. Also, all the shelves have 10+ slots, the 'Dad's library' books function as bookshelves (and have slots on top of them).

The items I haven't converted and why (BUT I will look into them in the upcoming days I was just way too tired now lol sorry): draperies (the mesh appeared broken in the game); drink coaster (I forgot about this little guy); grand mirror (I still have to learn how to convert them lol); triangular shelf (I'm sorry but I really wasn't feeling this shelf, I remember it from my childhood and I always hated it in other ppl's houses lmao);

I also wanted to make the ceiling fan animated so it can spin and function as a light at the same time, but unfortunately right now that is above my converting capabilities! But I will look into that as well.

Right now I'm working on converting the build mode items! Precisely the doors, but the wallpapers + the carpets are included now. I will also convert the Nostalgia kitchen but it might take me a while 'cause I'm learning stuff about animating objects so I can also fix the CHALK kitchen I know it's ass, bear with me pls lmao ♥

AND this set is huge so I just know that I have forgotten about something or I have misplaced something in the folders, my adhd is having a field day SO please let me know if anything is missing or might not be working as intended! ♥

AND I mustn't forget to thank @tvickiesims for helping me out with the shelves and solved the issue of them not being recolorable, thank you Vickie! ♥

[heretherebedork]

Alright, planning my death for next week. I cannot WAIT. Look at them!

[sichore]

I am forever here when it comes to these three

I JUST THINK Sylus is a hedonist through and through but there's nuance to his greed. What's his is his beloved's and what his beloved's is his beloved's. And maybe he can take a few things of his beloved's for himself. Weekly trips to the arcade. A favored hoodie until he deigns to return it (i.e. they come to retrieve). And even that stuck-up doctor of theirs who goes around so prim and proper and strict like he doesn't have a monster brimming under the surface, too.

I think Sylus would be delighted to pit his unstoppable force against an unmoveable object. To take on the only person who could handle cracking open his chest and delving into the secrets of his heart if it means saving his (their) beloved. It's no mountain he hasn't traversed before; no tower he hasn't already climbed.

So when the doctor approaches the hunter and himself with ice in his glare and his lips pressed thin like a razor, Sylus can only grin in return. A flash of teeth like a knife in the dark. What's one more head added to his conquest; one more treasure for his hoard?

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin?

synopsis ; you weren’t technically doing anything wrong, right? especially not when your fiance was doing the exact same thing.

cw ; afab!reader, emotional cheating, swearing, aged up characters (reader, reo, and nagi are in their 20s) thoughts of sex, mentions of poly, nagi is a nonchalant little fuck

now playing ; guilty as sin by taylor swift

you and reo were the perfect couple.

childhood sweethearts, both part of wealthy families, both always the top of the class, both so beautiful that it blinded one’s eyes just looking at them together. engaged and soon to be married, and always seeming to know exactly what to say in interviews.

everyone loved you and reo. there was no denying it. reo’s fame came much less from being the ceo of the infinitely wealthy mikage corporation, but much more from being an extremely loyal man to his fiancee. edits of you both had millions of likes, with numerous comments of “may this love find me” or similar sentiments.

you were both always stuck together like glue. holding hands and showering the other in affection or just being in each other’s presence. no one ever doubted you were both in love, not even the miserable strangers online who commented “pr relationship” on every celebrity couple’s tiktok.

until you both met nagi seishiro.

nagi was, well, for you at least, refreshing to be around. he never automatically assumed anything or you or reo or the both of you as a pair. he was always calm and tranquil about everything, no matter what you told him. he never bugged into you or reo’s business, and you really felt like you could tell him anything.

you could tell him when you felt as if reo was being overbearing. you could tell him about the times when reo was angry at you for being around other men, even if it was for school or work. you could tell him about your frustrations at reo and how he uses money to “solve” anything, as if trying to purchase your forgiveness.

and nagi just listened. occasional comments such as “wow” or “yeah”, but he usually just stayed quiet and played on his console. but at the end of every venting session, he always gave, at least attempted to give, you advice. it honestly got to a point where you trusted nagi more than you did reo.

“y’know, i can’t believe it. he does it every damn time. i get mad at him, and suddenly, he goes out for a few hours and comes back with a dozen pieces of jewelry and sends me a few million yen. i get that he wants my forgiveness, but what the fuck? it’s like he’s trying to buy my love. it’s not even cute anymore, considering how this is like, his 80th time doing it.”

nagi hummed, tapping away on his console. “well, talk to him about it.”

“i do! all the time! but he never listens. just sighs and says ‘i do this because i love you’”

nagi hummed again. “good luck then.” you stared at him, eyes trailing to his lips. he looked so beautiful, sitting here on your bed, in your room. you shouldn’t think like this; you can’t. not when your wedding with his best friend is only in three months. but you can’t help it; he makes you feel safer than reo does after all.

“miss (l/n), mr mikage has returned from his conference.” your heart dropped at the maid’s words, sighing. you turned towards nagi, who sat there limply, pressing away at the buttons on his console.

“okay. i’ll see you later, nagi.”

you still loved reo. of course you did. you would have called off this marriage long ago if you didn’t. but your love for nagi still overtook your love for reo.

reo was never sure whether you or nagi was more important.

he loved you, obviously. he wouldn’t have wanted to marry you in the first place if he didn’t. he’d be willing to spend every single penny and second of his life for you if you had asked him to. but at the same time, he can’t help but feel like a terrible future husband.

you were his one true love, the love of his life. but nagi was his treasure, the treasure of his life. both were irreplaceable, and reo wanted to live his life out with both of you. but at the same time, he always felt so thrilled whenever he was with nagi. but whenever he was with you…yes, he felt warm, but the sensation was dull compared to how he felt around nagi.

he’s known you since age 4, but these days, reo doesn’t even know how to behave around you anymore. not when most of his thoughts are consumed by nagi. his thoughts are 65 percent nagi, 25 percent you, and 10 percent stocks and business.

he doesn’t even know how to properly apologize or talk to you anymore. all he can do is go to the mall and buy you some jewelry and expensive goods and leave them in your room. does he feel bad? yes. but he doesn’t know how to act. with nagi, spoiling him with gifts and games work perfectly. but not with you.

nagi never got mad at him. never gave him the silent treatment. reo felt as if he could confide anything in nagi, and he knew you felt the same around nagi as well. he saw the way you looked at him; it was the same way that you looked at reo so many years ago, before you both met nagi, but so much more intense. you never looked at reo this way.

reo’s considered being in a polyamory relationship with you and nagi, but that would be far too controversial and might bring the company down from the drama. so it’s best to just stay quiet and love both you and nagi all the same.

reo balanced a soccer ball on his knee as he sat in his leather black chair, eyes fixated on the ball. nagi sat next to him, playing on his phone mindlessly.

“i think she hates me.”

“that sucks.”

reo sent nagi a short-lived glare before looking down and sighing. the soccer ball glided to reo’s foot, and reo shot it right to nagi’s head. “you’re not helping.” nagi made a derp like face and shrugged.

“you know what we should really do? run away for a few weeks and just live together. just us two.” reo mumbled mindlessly, now twirling an elegant ballpoint pane around his fingers.

“(y/n) would get mad at us.”

“yeah.”

[always-just-red]

Super self-indulgent addition to the poly series for my birthday!!! (Works as a standalone fic!) If you see this today you have to reblog, as a gift to me! And this fandom 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ *gets struck by lightning for my hubris*

Breaking Point

L&DS Boys X Reader

(No Caleb yet! I'm not confident in writing him and I wanna make sure I do it right! He'll be joining this series later though, for sure for sure...)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 / ?

Summary: I can't spoil the plot because it's a surprise but just trust me, ok? Look into my eyes! Right here! 👁️👁️ You want to read this. You really do.

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, platonic-ish! poly, some flirting, swearing, all the guys come with health warnings in this because like I said, it's self-indulgent! (I'm giving me everything I want 😌)

| Word count: 4.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You only have one life, and it’s Sylus’s to take.

He’s stalled. Denied himself the pleasure of snuffing it out, like he was always supposed to. You thought it was sentiment: a fondness that saw him shoot you with nothing more deadly than a wink or a smile, not that those weren’t their own, trivial little murder attempts. Now, he wants something permanent. Something that’ll stick.

His gun is pressed into your back, but you can’t resent him for it. If your gun was at his back, you would have already pulled the trigger.

“It isn’t too late to stop this, Sylus,” you mutter quietly, because the sentiment is there— no matter how deep he’s buried it. You’ll show it to him, even with raw hands and dirt under your nails.

You try to turn but the gun presses harder, urging you forwards like every other time you’ve attempted to slow or reason with him. “All’s fair in love and war, sweetie,” he says with a smile in his voice, and you wonder which one it is: that slow, nostalgic one, or the one he saves for his enemies. All teeth. All sharp. “You understand, don’t you?”

This is all your fault.

The dark, narrow corridor you’re being paraded down is coming to an end. It opens up into a larger room with abstract furnishings: block-like pillars and walls, lined with spidery strips of neon lights. They glow a weak purple, some flickering eerily. It’s still dark, and there are shadows everywhere.

Sylus swings you under a faint spotlight in the centre of the space. “I know you’re there,” he announces to the darkness, one hand on your shoulder, possessive.

There’s no response from the void. Can he hear something? A baited breath, somewhere out in the shadows, or a heartbeat, tripping over itself on adrenaline? You can’t hear a thing; the silence is too thick. Perhaps he made a mistake. Perhaps—

“What do you want, Sylus?” a voice calls out from behind a pillar— Zayne. By the time you look over, he’s pressed himself back against cover, out of sight, out of range.

“Let’s talk about this, yeah?” Rafayel, from behind a low wall.

Sylus tugs you closer: wraps you in a heavy arm so his gun is in front of you, angled inwards at your heart. He’s always loved a dramatic irony, even if it’s private— just for the two of you. “A Deepspace Hunter for a Deepspace Hunter,” he bargains. “More than fair, wouldn’t you say?”                                                                      

“You don’t have to do this, Xavier!” you shout.

“Ah, ah,” Sylus tuts, his warm breath tickling your ear: “Don’t be a hero, sweetie.”

More silence follows, but you know your fate is being decided in the dark. Amethyst eyes are pleading with peridot. Fire is trying to thaw ice. You can imagine the artist gesturing wildly, mouthing arguments, and the doctor solemnly shaking his head— ever trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

None of it matters, because Xavier is already stepping into the light. Hands up in surrender, weapon stowed at his side. His face is a storm and the flickering neon betrays it like lightning. Look— it warns. Divine violence.

Sylus’s hand tenses, ever so slightly, on your shoulder. You look at Xavier. He looks back at you.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” he says softly, and you’re in the centre of the storm, where it’s safe and it’s quiet and nothing outside can reach you, let alone hurt you. It won’t last, but it exists. You’re glad it exists.

“It’s okay,” you speak on a whisper.

You know how this has to end. Sylus can’t see it. Rafayel and Zayne— both peeking their heads out of cover— can’t see it either, but you? Of course you do. It’s an instinct: Deepspace Hunter to Deepspace Hunter, like Sylus said. Two edges of the same sword.

When Xavier draws his gun at light speed and shoots you with it, you’re the only one not surprised.

“What?” Sylus gasps as red spills over you.

But Xavier doesn’t stop. An onslaught: he fires relentlessly, aim not letting up for a second. His gun flashes over and over again and the sound is harsh on your ears as he closes in, indifferent.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you hear Sylus murmur, and then you’re shoved forwards— limp and useless— into the arms of your attacker.

Xavier catches you, his gun finally falling silent. The air had gone thick for a moment. Time had slowed. Space had twisted. A few, glistening crow feathers waltz around you, and you glance down at your vest. The lights on it have stayed red.

That was your last, stupid life. The digital counter on your gun is stuck at: ‘000’.

“Thanks,” you say to Xavier anyway, because you wouldn’t have struck the floor quite so gracefully as the feathers.

He’s frowning— staring after Sylus— but your voice brings him back to you. He looks down with a devastatingly handsome smile. “You’re welcome.” Then it’s gone. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“Wha—?” is all you manage to get out before you’re flung into another pair of arms. Xavier is running away; you can hear him. You can see him, in the corner of your eye: a pale shadow, giving chase after Sylus. Slipping into the labyrinth of spaceship-like corridors.

“Cutie?” Rafayel’s calling, and it must be his arms around you, squeezing you.

You want to answer— you’re going to answer— but then he drops to his knees, the fall making your head spin. You feel sick. “Cutie?” he tries again, and oh, him shaking you really isn’t helping.

“Raf, please— please stop.”

He doesn’t. “Stay with me, okay?” he urges, the red lights on your gear reflecting in his desperate eyes. He looks up at an encroaching figure. “Zayne! Do something!”

The doctor strides towards you, casting a nonchalant gaze over your body. When he speaks, it’s a bleak prognosis: “Last life?”

“Yep! Sylus already got me once. And before that, Raf—”

“Shhhh shh shh,” the man cradling you hushes, “don’t speak, cutie. Save your strength.”

“Shot me. He was pretending to be a spy,” you finish.

“I wasn’t!”

You huff. “Really? So I was just imagining you posing every time you rounded a corner? The forward rolls, all the spinning around and stuff— that was all in my head?”

“Guess so,” he shrugs. “It’s not my fault you fantasise about me being some kinda action hero, you freak.”

Your face is dark. “Zayne?”

An electronic gunshot rings out, and the lights on Rafayel’s vest flash red. He gapes down at himself, then glowers at Zayne as they return to their normal, lives-to-spare blue. The doctor shrugs guiltlessly, a slight tug at the corner of his lips.

Footsteps approach and your allies react: Rafayel cradling you tighter (definitely not using you as a human shield) and Zayne levelling his gun at a pitch-black corridor. The weapon drops as Xavier stalks out of it, his pace brisk and his presence commanding. “Status?” he asks, checking his Hunter’s Watch pointlessly. It’s a force of habit. You do it, too.

“We’re one hunter down,” says Zayne, his tone equally pragmatic. “Sylus?”

“Could be anywhere.” Xavier toes a crow feather with what you can only describe as disgust.

Okay… Rafayel’s grip is getting a little much, now. You feebly tap at his hand, but he’s too busy glaring up at your team leader to notice. “How could you?” he mutters under his breath, deliberately loud.

Xavier spares him a glance. Then you, finally. “I did what I had to.”

“What you had to?” Rafayel’s voice is dangerous. “What you had to?”

Just as you’re thinking about how touching his loyalty is, he drops you the rest of the way to the floor. You lie there, stunned, staring up at the ceiling. The artist stands, then— yep! Steps over you completely. “You’ve gone too far this time, Xavier! You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies.”

He’s thrashing about in an uncaring ocean. Xavier’s eyes are calm. “Don’t I?”

You didn’t know challenges could be issued so softly. Rafayel stares in disbelief, then looks to Zayne for back-up: are you seeing this?

The doctor is quiet as he diagnoses the situation, trying to find the path of least resistance. There has to be a middle ground. A way to appease fire without burning his hands.

His hazel eyes fall on you, and you get the feeling you’re the answer. He comes to stand over you. Crouches down beside you, head low in respect as he takes your hand and squeezes it gently, like he’s savouring a warmth that’s ebbing away.

“Zayne…?” you breathe. You don’t quite know what’s happening.

He releases a breath too, for your voice is a memory and he’ll treasure it, always. His spare hand lifts to cup your cheek, and he meets your eyes with unequivocal devotion. It isn’t innocent. It’s dark.

“We will avenge you,” he vows.

…

It’s nice, being dead.

You can meander aimlessly. You can hum to yourself recklessly.

You don’t have to poke your head around each corner, giving signals that the coast is clear or unclear because Xavier decided— worryingly early in the game— that it was you who should always go first. Step into the open, maybe even a firing line. Sylus will hesitate, he’d insisted, his hands on your shoulders and his eyes boring into yours intensely. You’re his weakness. Exploit it.

You’d nodded, wide-eyed, unsure of what else to do with someone gripping you like that.

What would Xavier say now, you wonder, if he saw you— Sylus’s infamous weakness— watching the man with a tender smile? His scarlet gaze is distracted. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Well, he has, but he’s pretending he hasn’t. He’s busy: crouched behind a wall, peering over it cautiously.

You saunter over. “What’s the plan here, Mr Lone Wolf?”

“Quiet.”

“Mr One Man Army. Mr ‘I don’t need a team, sweetie, I could beat you all with my hands tied.’”

Sylus gifts you a sideways smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Come on, Sy—” you perch back on the wall he’s using for cover— “death can’t keep us apart. Y’know what that makes me?”  

“Insufferable.”

“Nope. A ghost,” you correct, and the man smiles more widely. It’s still nowhere near enough attention, so you wiggle your arms at him, adding an “ooooooooh!” for good measure.

“You don’t scare me, sweetie.”

Oh really? You study your nails. “You ever think about how if you’d died before you met me, Luke and Kieran would’ve had full creative control of your funeral?”

Sylus’s smile fades the more that image sinks in. “Fine,” he shrugs, “you scare me a little. Now—” he stands to his full height, giving your head a pat— “off to heaven with you, ghost.”

You’re interfering with his mission, you know.

He strides away purposefully, and you can tell he’s enjoying this. The unfair odds. The chance to show off. At last, some enrichment for the wanted criminal who holds your bags while you’re shopping. (Not that he doesn’t enjoy that, too.)

He’s checking over his gun with a customary glance, and the way he moves is addictive; what he’s wearing doesn’t help. A black compression shirt stresses each muscle of his arms and back— the fabric fighting for its life. If you could buy it a drink for its service, you would. You’d buy it ten.

“Yeah…” you exhale, head sideways, gaze low. “I don’t think heaven’s quite where I’m headed.”

Sylus stops.

He turns with a follow-up question, but it never needs to be asked. You’re still shamelessly staring— explaining yourself with faraway eyes and a bottom lip that’s trapped by your teeth. It’s deliberate, of course. Just like you know that shirt was deliberate.

The man’s head tilts in warning. “Careful, sweetie.”

Were his tone a blade he could pin to your throat, he’d know just the right pressure to make your heart stutter. Not too much. Not too little. But he needs to push harder, these days; you’re awfully comfortable at the edge of that knife, and there’s sin in the way you watch him, like you don’t care if you’ll bleed for it.

It pulls him back to you, tantalisingly slowly. A finger lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to his eyes. “I said, careful,” he repeats, making every word drag.

That gaze sinks low again. An act of defiance; it doesn’t quite reach his body. It stops at his lips.

He leans in closer.

There’s a sound somewhere down the corridor, and a gunshot rings out. Sylus’s arms are around you— a swirl of his Evol stealing you both from reality. You rejoin the world a loud heartbeat later, in a different room, far away from the last. Crow feathers tumble. The scarlet mist dissipates.

Sylus’s vest is flashing red, and he looks at you, betrayed, as it turns back to cobalt.

That’s two lives down, one to go; you’d stolen the first when he’d taken you hostage. “All’s fair in love and war, Sylus,” you smile, untangling yourself from his grasp. “You understand, don’t you?”

You go to leave, but his hand is on your wrist. He pulls you back, and it would be much more threatening if he wasn’t chuckling so fondly. “My team next time?” he asks, kissing the very top of your head.

You sidle away, his hand forced to surrender you. “Maybe,” you grin at him over your shoulder. “I’m in pretty high demand.”

…

“Raf, Raf, Raf!” you chirp, skipping over to the lilac-haired artist.

“Cutie, cutie, cutie!” he chirps back. “Afterlife’s fun, huh?”

“Even more fun now you’re here.” He’s sat on a fallen pillar, arms by his side, legs stretched out. His face is lit by the glow of his vest: a faint but vivid red. Like an ember. “My condolences, fishie.”

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Gonna tell me what happened?”

Rafayel rolls his head back— a listless sort of stretch. “Xavier shot me. Said I’m a ‘liability’,” he shrugs.  “That I ‘compromised the integrity of the mission.’”

That was a lot of air quotes. “Pretending to be a spy again?” you hazard.

“Nah.”

Ooh! “A gunslinger!”

He’s still staring at the ceiling, but he sighs dreamily, eyes closing. “You know me so well.”

You take a seat next to him, trying not to giggle at the thought of him strutting about in front of Xavier, tipping an invisible hat while the Hunter slowly raised his gun. Gods, how brutal; you hope it was quick. A tiny laugh breaches your lips, and Rafayel opens an eye in suspicion.

You smile innocently. The eye closes again, satisfied. “You’d make a hot cowboy. Or spy.”

“I know,” he breathes out. That was never up for debate. “Which is hotter, though?”

Hmm… You scooch away from him, making a viewfinder with your fingers so you can squint at him through it. His eyes flicker open and he catches on, flashing a smile as he shoots you with a finger gun. “Spy,” you conclude.

“Noted.” His chuckle is warm and wistful.

“So… got any good intel for me, super spy?”

He hums like he has to think about it. “Xavier’s got some big plan to beat Sylus. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, on account of the whole ‘liability’ thing? But yeah, it’s big.”

“How big can it be? It’s laser tag.”

“I think I can shed some light on that matter.”  

It’s a third voice, and the intrusion makes you jump. Rafayel, too, but he’d never admit it. You both glance outwards, to where Zayne is wandering over to you. His walk is relaxed. His gear is red.  

“That line would’ve been way cooler from Xavier,” Rafayel whispers.

“So cool!” you whisper back. Zayne can clearly hear every word, so you’re quick to deflect with a: “Hey, Zayne! What happened to you?”

You know what happened— there’s an obvious, kinda horrifying pattern emerging— but you still need to hear it. Zayne shifts on his feet, looking down at the ground as he finds the right words. “I… was a liability,” he says at last.

“Oh, nice!” Rafayel’s hand shoots out. “Join the club!”

Zayne stares at it blankly, but gives in eventually. His hand meets the artist’s in the least inspiring high-five you’ve ever seen.

“How were you a liability?” you chase up, because it’s harder to picture your stoic doctor prancing around like a secret agent.

Zayne rests his gun back on his shoulder. “I was trying to be a voice of reason.”

There’s a low, sympathetic whistle from Rafayel. “That’ll do it! There’s no reasoning with those levels of crazy.” He looks at you. Interrupts before you can leap to your partner’s defence: “Like, how invested are you in Sylus?”

What the hell’s that supposed to mean? “… A lot?”

Rafayel winces, drawing air through gritted teeth. “Yikes.”

He’s messing with you. He’s messing with you, right? You look up at Zayne— calm, cool, collected Zayne— your anchor in all this insanity. He meets your gaze, and you wait for that smile of reassurance: the one he always manages, even when you’re bleeding out before him, courtesy of a Wanderer you underestimated. Everything will be fine.

He shakes his head discreetly.  

Everything won’t be fine? Oh.

…

“Sylus!”

You sprint down a corridor, your teammates hot at your heels and your breath ragged from running. This place really is a maze, and it’s not like Sylus wants to be found. No— your red-eyed damsel-in-imminent-distress is still marching around out there, oblivious. Avoiding you? Probably.

That’s when you see it. You skid to a stop, Rafayel almost crashing into you.

Perched on a nearby ledge, Mephisto is watching you, head cocked. His mechanical eyes narrow, and there’s no usual caw of greeting. You’re witnessing a professional at work. A crow on a mission, just like his master. You wander over, looking up at him. Then you snatch him down from his pedestal.  

“Listen to me, Mephie,” you conspire as he squawks and wriggles. “Get Sylus, okay? It’s urgent. We have to speak to him.”

You set the bird free, launching him up into the air so he can take forth your message, but he nosedives to the ground, landing in a sorry-looking heap, instead. The little pile of feathers moves. Seems to find its feet, then… keels over sideways with a final squawk. Huh.

“You killed it,” Rafayel observes from behind you.

“I did not!” You crouch down, giving the frozen crow a poke. “C’mon, stop being dramatic! Get up.”

No reaction. Rafayel sings eerily: “Deaaad…”

You scoop Mephisto into your hands and he melts into them. A wing hangs down, and his head hangs backwards, too. You give him a shake. Nothing happens. Standing up, you turn, “Zay—?”

“I’m not a mechanic.” The doctor’s arms are folded.

But you’re looking at him, hope in your eyes and a faint— absolutely not fake— wobble to your lips, so he takes the crow reluctantly. He lifts the fallen wing. Examines the sharp black feathers and plates of metal. “Is there an off switch you might have pressed?” he ponders aloud. “Or…?”

“It’s at the back of his neck,” a voice that isn’t yours answers.

You’re suddenly clutching feathers; Zayne has shoved Mephisto back into your hands. “I don’t—” you try to resist— “no, don’t give him to—!” You try to hand him back, but Zayne is stepping away.

There’s a presence, looming. “Hey, Sy!” You spin around with a smile.

The man you’ve been searching for stares at you, an eyebrow raised. “Killed Mephisto, did you?”

“Uhhhh, no? It was Rafayel.”

A squeak from behind you: “What!?”

Mercifully, Mephisto springs to life— fluttering away so he can perch on Sylus’s shoulder. He coos, leaning in to nuzzle the finger that lifts to stroke at his beak. Then he caws at you, over and over, like a manic sort of laughter. That stupid bird’s been spending too much time with the twins.

Sylus looks between the three of you, his eyes falling on each red vest in turn. He smiles languidly. “Been playing spy again, little artist?”

“Nope.”

“Cowboy,” the older man guesses again.

Rafayel is silent, his arms crossing defensively. Sylus chuckles, and just as you’re about to scold him, he holsters his weapon with… flair? And tips an invisible hat in the artist’s direction. Rafayel smiles. “How might I be of service?” Sylus asks you, still roleplaying.

Adorable. Focus! “We came to warn you, Sy. Xavier’s—”

“Totally lost it,” Rafayel cuts in. You glare at him and his eyes protest: What!? It’s true!

“We should stick together,” Zayne says. “At least until we can figure out what he’s—”

The lights around you go dead.

No more spotlights, no more stripes of neon; you’re submerged into darkness. The only remaining glow is your vests— three red, one blue— all ominously still. Afraid to move. As your eyes adjust, you can just about make out the others’ faces. Rafayel and Sylus are glancing around, wary, but Zayne’s uneasiness is different.

“Phase one,” he mutters gravely.

You don’t like that. “What’s phase two?”

Please know. Please know. He looks at you. Gives another one of those little head shakes.

At the far end of the corridor, a spotlight flickers to life. You all watch, caught in a spell of suspense as it illuminates nothing— an empty space where you half expect some spectre to be. It goes dark a second later. Then the next spotlight lights up, closer. It goes out. The next one lights. Goes out. Lights.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

“What the fuck?” Rafayel murmurs, standing closer than before. His hand finds yours, and you’re actually grateful. You hold it, tight.

“Stay behind us,” Zayne directs at Sylus.

A much, much closer spotlight turns on.

Xavier stands beneath it, deathly still. Every bit the spectre you’d imagined: you can’t quite tell if he’s of heaven or hell. He might have walked out of either. He might drag you to either. It’s that look again: the one he wore before he killed you. Inevitability. It lives in his gaze. There’s no running from it. No pleading with or changing it.

“Enough,” Sylus growls, pushing past you, raising his gun. He pulls the trigger, and the sound of the shot rings out. Nothing comes of it, though. The weapon doesn’t flash. Xavier’s vest doesn’t flash.

The Hunter tilts his head— another challenge, soft as sleep.

Sylus presses the trigger a second time, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. Though his weapon looks like a gun— pierces the silence like a gun— it isn’t one, is it? It’s a vessel. For infrared light.

Now you think of it, this game was rigged from the start. It must dawn on Sylus, because he stops. He tears the gun from its cord and lets it skitter across the floor, no more useless there than it was in his hands. Energy crackles around his fingers, thick like sticky, red blood.

“Sylus,” Zayne warns, but there are tentative snowflakes at his fingertips, too.

Xavier steps closer, mirroring Sylus— throwing his gun aside with a crash. A delicate twist of his hands and a blade is unsheathed from the darkness. Pure light, holy and sharp. He spins the sword with a practiced elegance and it’s admittedly mesmerising. You can’t not watch.

Rafayel wriggles his fingers free of yours, then steps in front of you. You’d never tell him, but his hand had started to burn.

You hadn’t missed this— this tension. So full of tempered things, meant to hurt.

White light floods everything, everywhere, and you have to shield your face with your hands. The others are doing the same, groaning, hissing curses; even Xavier is wincing as he stares at the ceiling.

This isn’t his doing. Isn’t his light.

…

“Who needs that place?” Rafayel grumbles, plucking a fry up from Xavier’s plate and poking it past his lips so he can chew on it with his thoughts. “I mean, I’ve got a private island!”

“And I’ve got guns,” Sylus smiles.

You look up. “Laser tag guns?”

He blinks at you. Nods agreeably: “Sure, sweetie.”

“I’m sure we can buy some.” Zayne is stirring a chocolate milkshake, and he stoops to take a sip.

The four of you are huddled around a table outside a fast-food place, conveniently next door to the laser tag place you’ve just been kicked out of. There’s a board in there, now graced with colourful mugshots of you all, and not everyone looks miserable in them. Sylus is smirking in his, an old hand at notoriety. Rafayel is winking, making finger hearts.

Xavier is still inside, arguing your case with the manager— appealing the whole ‘lifetime bans’ thing— and his food is getting cold. You slap away Rafayel’s hand as it goes in for another fry.

“You’ve got your own, Raf!”

“So?” His hand is quicker this time, dodging yours and whisking three fries away from their friends before you can stop him. “They taste better stolen. Everyone knows that.”

Sylus hums in accordance as he steals a fry for himself. Vultures.

They all nibble away at their food— sometimes Xavier’s food— and you know you’re all thinking about the same thing. That corridor, those flickering spotlights, and the Hunter commanding them. You’ve not really talked about it, yet.

“Y’know,” you muse, “I’ve never seen Xavier like that before. Don’t you think it was kinda…?”

Rafayel bonks your head with a rolled-up menu. “Stop.”

Zayne snatches it from him gently. Flattens it out again and sets it neatly down on the table. “He is right though,” he sighs. “Stop.”

You giggle. “Hear me out, though—”

“Ah! There you are!”

Two figures approach your table, and the voice is very familiar. Twenty minutes ago, it was yelling at you.

It’s the manager of the laser tag place, and he stands before you, hands on his hips and a smile on his wizened face. “I’m glad I found you,” he continues, “your friend and I have just been talking. He explained everything. Who’d have thought, huh? An invisible Wanderer, messing with the lights like that! Destroying my equipment! Anyway, it was so kind of you to get rid of it.”

He pats Xavier’s shoulder, praises: “What a nice young man!”

“It was our pleasure, sir.” Xavier tips his head in respect as Sylus sniggers.

The manager’s too enamoured to notice. “Anyway,” he turns to the rest of you, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. It goes without saying that you are welcome back, anytime! My treat, of course!”

You all glance between each-other as Xavier thanks the man for his kindness, then waves him goodbye with a genuine warmth. The manager trundles away, leaving your little banquet in peace.

Xavier smiles so fondly, his gaze an azure sky. There’s not a cloud in it, just a bright, radiant sun.

Your budding support group is speechless.

“So,” Xavier beams at you all, “who wants to go again?”