#somehow the intuition kicks in i suppose

[literateleah]

crazy how this is maybe one of their best choruses from the first two albums and it’s a b side

[charliemwrites]

Men At Work - Part 3

I know this has been a little slow to start, but things should progress a little more quickly from here. I wanted to establish some of the groundwork for this weird dynamic they all have but unfortunately, these men don't know the meaning of slow, even in my own head.

No Content Warnings

“How are the repairs going?” you ask.

It’s just Nikto today, returning your Tupperware from dinner the other night. He’s covered head to toe once again, all that’s visible are those glass blue eyes. One way mirrors - hiding everything beneath the surface.

They remind you of… something. 

Hmm. When you figure it out, they’re sure to make an appearance in your next novel.

“On track,” he answers in that sharp, staccato way you’re learning is just his way.

Unfortunately for him, that just makes you more curious. You know it’s a bit obnoxious - you’re not entitled to information, you know that. And most of the time you curb the inquiries tapping at the back of your teeth. But he’s in your house, snuggling your traumatized cat. If he’s got a problem answering casual questions, you’re certain he’ll have no problem letting you know.

“You’re redoing the whole thing?”

“Most of it. Foundation is good. The rest - дерьмо.”

You don’t know a lick of Russian, but you can guess.

“Good bones,” you hum in understanding. As if you know anything about construction. “That helps. When do you think it will be done?”

He shifts, sharp eyes flicking between your busy hands, the door, and Rasputin holding him lovingly hostage.

Little guy is currently perched on your shoulder, face buried against your collar in abject despair that his bestest friend hasn’t come to visit. Shithead is poaching (or attempting to, anyway) the sandwiches you’re assembling. So far, she’s only swishing her tail, biding her time. You’re keeping an eye on her.

“Two months. Three if any of us are called.”

You hum, reach for the tomatoes. It’s only because you’re looking at him that you notice the slightest twitch around his eyes. Beneath his mask, you’d bet he’s scrunching his nose.

“No?”

“I will eat.”

You leave the tomatoes off. Guy mews sadly, you tilt your head to press a kiss to his little ear.

“So, two or three months. Krueger said you’ll move in then.”

“Da.”

You top the sandwiches with a final slice of bread and turn to the oven. Spin back just in time to catch Shithead’s paw reaching for Krueger’s designated sandwich. Nikto eyes the plate of brownies in your free hand; you bite the corner of your mouth to keep from grinning.

“What about the yard?”

Nikto tilts his head. If he didn’t give the impression of a particularly large predator, you’d call it cute. As it is, even spiders and snakes endear themselves to you somehow.

“What about yard?”

“Any plans for it?” You sneak an extra brownie onto Nikto’s plate. Reward and apology for wrenching conversation out of him. “Grass? Trees? Flowers?”

He blinks. Just once. Some sort of intuition tells you that even that behavioral tic is a big social step for him.

“No.”

“Oh, uh… gravel then?”

“We mean no plans,” he corrects.

“Oh! Alright, I suppose that’s a long way off anyway. There’s still so much work to do on the inside.”

But it does get you thinking. What even goes into fixing a house? And how do they know all this stuff? The electric, the insulation, the… whatever else goes into a home. Is it just Weird Things they picked up from the military?

You stare contemplatively at the house’s exterior as you walk the plates across the street with Nikto. (Ras is riding on his shoulder and Guy refused to detach his claws from yours. You fear for the state of your home with Shithead left behind, but neither you nor Nikto had a spare hand to wrangle her with.)

Nikto practically kicks the door in, shouting for the others as he goes. Guy chooses that moment to start crying - uncanny sense for appearing pathetic as possible.

Konig must hear him halfway down the stairs, because the steady boot steps get faster after a moment.

“Oh, bubchen! Why are you sad? What has happened?” Konig coos, nearly running to your side.

Of course, now that he’s gotten what he wanted, Guy’s volume lowers. He makes a pleased little “mrow” and slinks off your shoulder and into Konig’s reaching hands. You’d call him a traitor but you’re a damn sucker for a big man with a cute animal. 

“You two are ridiculous,” you laugh, setting the plates on the counter.

It’s already been replaced since last you saw it. Black granite, very sleek. You like it. (Which of them installed it? Nikto? You usually catch glimpses of him on the ground floor.)

“He is a baby, Biene,” Konig protests, “he must be treated like one.”

“He’s already five!” You reply, like you don’t have a papoose for when your hands are too full to snuggle him.

“Did I stutter? I do not think so. This is a baby.”

You have to turn away to hide your laughter, pretending that taking the foil off the lunches requires your full attention.

Krueger steps up behind you while you’re not looking. The heat of him is what alerts you, the only reason you don’t jump when his rough voice comes by your head.

“Where is the Shithead.”

“Hello to you too, Krueger. How is your day?”

He grunts and reaches past you, trying to snatch up a brownie. Without a thought, you slap at his hand - balk at the sharp whack sound it makes. He jerks his hand back in shock.

“You deny me my dearest friend and you attack me in my own home.”

You spin on your heel, mouth already open. False start as you realize he’s even closer than you expected. The height difference doesn’t seem like much until you’re eye level with his neck. You untangle your tongue and ignore the smirk growing at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“This is barely a house, never mind a home,” you scoff.

He snorts - that smirk turns to a full blown grin. A little crazed. Unfortunately, that makes it more attractive. (And the bastard probably knows it too.)

“You insult me too, now.”

“Sure, but I brought you food.”

He flicks his eyes to the plate behind you and arches a brow.

“Bring me the little Sheisskerl and I will forgive you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Go get her yourself.”

What the hell did you just say? Inviting a man into your house unaccompanied?! You may not be a true crime writer, but you know better.

You still don’t take it back.

He locks eyes with you, gives the distinct impression that he knows exactly what you just thought and he’s amused by your obstinance.

“Fine.” He reaches past your hip. Smells like sweat and something that reminds you of heat. Solder? Certainly not anything you’re used to. “Behave, eh? Konig is easy to take advantage of.”

You snort and glance at Konig over his shoulder, who’s glaring now. (Somehow no less intimidating even with Guy nuzzling at his mask.)

As Krueger turns, he takes a big bite of brownie, humming appreciatively under his breath. You shake your head, then turn to Konig.

“If you want to steal one of his sandwiches, I’ll look the other way.”

Konig barks a short, sharp laugh of surprise. It startles you a bit, but not enough to wipe the grin from your face. You know he really means it when he sounds like that.

“How are the bathroom repairs going?” you ask.

“They are going well!” he answers. Then launches into an in-depth explanation of all the ongoing projects. Replacing walls, rewirings, outlet and light installations. What doesn’t go over your head is almost too fast to understand as his accent thickens with excitement. You nod along anyway, because you asked, and he’s stupidly endearing - big muscular man getting a bit squeaky while he rambles about pipes.

He barely even notices Guy’s little paw reaching until it’s shoved into his open mouth. He sputters as you burst into laughter, gently tucking Guy’s arm against his chest.

“Why would you do this?!” he asks, only to receive a slow blink in response.

“He’s saying you need to eat,” you giggle, nudging Konig’s plate.

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for the lunch!”

Barely a couple bites in and you hear the door open again. Krueger stomps in with Shithead bundled in his arms, one hand under her bottom, the other around her tummy. She’s got her head tilted all the way back to chirp and chitter at him.

“Why are you carrying her like that?” you ask, choking back a giggle. 

“It is how she wishes to be carried.”

You blink at her - but sure as shit, she’s perfectly content being held like a child’s toy.

“Well good luck eating like that.”

“You won’t feed me?” he leers.

“I don’t want rabies if you bite me.”

His laughter is even harsher than Konig’s. You like it instantly.

All that’s left is to hear Nikto’s.

Agatha is outside when Nikto walks you back home.

(Krueger huffed that he had too much work to do for the day, but he would see you for dinner. While you were still blinking in shock at his self-invite, Konig transitioned Little Guy back into your arms. All the while grumbling at Krueger’s impatient German.)

She scowls as she notices your two-person parade. Nikto’s juggling Little Guy and Rasputin; you’ve got a firm grip on Shithead and the stack of dirty plates. You snort a bit just thinking of her paranoid comments about them being bad men. Sure, they might be in some ways, but it’s a hard sell when Ras is trying to lick at the edge of the mask around Nikto’s eyes.

“Afternoon, Agatha,” you call, just to be petty.

“When is your fiance coming by again?” she calls back. “Such a lovely young man.”

Your mirth dries up in an instant. “I broke up with my boyfriend four months ago. I thought I told you.”

You did. You know you did. Because she’s a nosy pain in the ass that was asking about your Easter plans with him (trying to invite you to church once again) when you told her that you left him. She’d even fussed about it at the time, saying that there’s hardly anything that can’t be healed with time and understanding.

(It was only your commitment to your own privacy that kept you from asking how much time it takes to smooth over someone cheating with your cousin.)

At your side, Nikto grunts. You glance sideways at him, wondering what he must think.

But his eyes are on Agatha. Even Rasputin has paused the grooming routine to narrow his one eye at her.

“Is this the one that looks in mailbox?” he asks, louder than you’ve ever heard.

Loud enough that she hears. And flushes redder than the poppies in your flowerboxes.

“That’s her husband, actually,” you answer. She sputters, and an incredibly immature bolt of satisfaction suffuses you.

He grunts again. Eyes her up and down. “Maybe we leave surprise for him next time, da?”

You press your lips together, but it does nothing to prevent you from grinning. He’s deadly serious, though, which somehow makes it even funnier to you.

“Maybe!” you reply in a tone that really means absolutely.

Nikto shuts the door on her face before Agath can get out a threat to call the police.

“You’ve got a petty streak,” you say, grinning at him.

He tilts his head. “You like.” He doesn’t even sound sure if it’s a question or a statement.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “I like it.”

He grunts and takes the plates from your hand. “We wash. You think about dinner and revenge. Da?”

You plop yourself onto a stool by the kitchen counter. “Da.”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[niningtori]

mastermind | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you should be used to your relationships failing by now, but after finding out your boyfriend, yeonjun, cheated on you, you're devastated yet again. and beomgyu, your best friend, is there to pick up the pieces, just like always. but isn't it a little odd that things just never seem to work out?

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), yandere

warnings: YANDERE!GYU, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT (MDNI!) creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, degradation, if i missed anything pls lmk!

word count: 5.1k

notes: ... hi. i'm reposting this with major edits but i hope you all still like it!

｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡ ｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡

do you love your boyfriend? of course. do you trust him? of course. so are you surprised to see a photo of him very clearly making out with another woman? well, of course.

your friends, your family, and even passersby would simply tell you you shouldn’t be, though. yeonjun used to be very well known for his sexual escapades, so when you announced he was your boyfriend, nobody was particularly happy for you. especially not your best friend in the whole world, beomgyu. 

“he’s just gonna hurt you, just like the last one!” 

you remember flinching at this. you remember how hurt and indignant you felt at the time. you also remember the silent treatment you gave him, and the cold war that began shortly thereafter. he apologized afterwards, of course, but you had asked him what was so bad about you that he couldn’t just believe that yeonjun had changed for you. he was silent at this, which only made you even angrier. it was all pointless in the end, you suppose.

as you sit on beomgyu’s couch, your phone rings again. you have a special ringtone for yeonjun, so you don’t even bother to check the caller id before you silence it. he’s been calling you incessantly since you texted him that you saw the picture and were done with him. your face is downcast and if you weren't so consumed by your sadness, you'd notice the faint look of delight in beomgyu’s eyes. 

“i think you should just block him,” he says as nonchalantly as he can muster. maybe in another state of mind, you'd register the satisfaction in his tone, but right now? all you can sense is his urgency, which can easily be explained away by selfless and sincere concern. just how he likes it.

“you’re right,” you sigh. “i guess i just don’t understand. things were going so well, and then he goes and does this to me. i don’t know what i did wrong,” you say while burying your face in your hands. he almost can’t control the way his lips want to curl up at this, but he’s become nothing if not a master of containing his true emotions. he’s kept them from your prying eyes for years, after all.

“aww, baby. it’s not you, it’s him. he’s just not the right guy for you,” he coos, but for some reason, you can’t help but be annoyed at his kindness. 

“i know you want to say i told you so, so say it,” you snap, pulling your face from your hands and scowling at him.

“i don’t want —” 

“if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it, alright? i don't need to be taught again,” you say with a huff. you know you’re being unreasonable. you know you’re being a bitch, but you just can’t help it. who told beomgyu to be right about your potential partners all the damn time? fuck his crazy-accurate intuition.

he looks genuinely hurt by your harsh words, though, so you can’t help but feel a wave of regret wash over you. you’re drowning in it, even, as you watch his puppy eyes gloss over.

“beomie, baby, i’m so sorry,” you say, gently grabbing his face with one hand and pushing his long hair behind his ear with the other. “i know i’m being awful to you when you’re just trying to help.”

“it’s okay,” he says solemnly, looking like a kicked puppy. “as long as you’re sorry.” somehow, his easy acceptance of your apology makes you feel even worse. you pull him in for a hug and he buries his face in your neck to a) soak up your scent and b) hide his growing smirk. but you’re too caught up in your feelings to notice.

“it’s really okay,” he assures once you part.

“no, it isn’t. i’m being a shitty friend. how about you stay over tonight? we can watch a movie and i’ll order something for us to eat,” you suggest. he graciously accepts your peace offering and the night is spent with giggles and an overt amount of cuddling.

as you’re drifting off to sleep, you feel beomgyu plant a kiss on your forehead. to anyone else, this might come across as oddly intimate, but you know better. people have said that you two would make a good couple, but you two do nothing but laugh it off every time. they just don’t understand your dynamic. he’s a man like any other, you guess, but seeing him as anything other than a friend is simply laughable. you know he feels the same exact way about you, too, which is why you are unfazed by his next words. 

“i love you. it’s just — i just love you so much, you know?” he whispers.

“aww, beomie. you know i love you, too. you’re my best friend in the whole world,” you murmur as sleep finally overcomes you.

if the lights were on, you’d see how his face falls and contorts into something like a grimace.

-

yeonjun has been spamming you like crazy, so you listen to beomgyu and block his number as well as his social media accounts. you think this whole chapter of your life is over, but, as always, you are wrong.

a week or so after your messy breakup, a sudden knock at your door pulls your attention away from mindless scrolling on your phone. you don't think much of it — it’s probably just beomgyu with some takeout, or something. however, when you look through the peephole, you realize that yeonjun is not finished bothering you just yet. 

“baby, please. i know you’re there. please, just open up. i’ll explain everything!” he pleads. you’re not particularly known for your callousness of heart, so it doesn’t take much more begging for you to feel guilty and let him in. you open your door with a sigh. 

“thank you!” yeonjun says with a look of pure relief as he hurriedly enters your apartment. he takes a seat on your couch (unprompted, you might add) and takes a shaky breath. you cautiously seat yourself on the other end of the couch and prepare to listen to whatever bullshit he has conjured up for your viewing pleasure before you decide that it’s best just to cut to the chase. ripping the band-aid off, and all that.

“look, i don’t care that you’re sorry. there’s nothing you can say to make me change my —” 

“it was beomgyu!” he exclaims before you can get another word out.

“... what?” you ask confusedly. where the hell is he going with this?

“the girl, the picture, fucking everything was all his fucking fault. he did it,” he rants. oh. he must think you’re fucking stupid.

“yeonjun, please don’t waste my time,” you sigh. “i think you should leave,” you add, getting up from your seat.

“wait!” he pleads, reaching for your hand and gently pulling you back down. “remember how i always told you that i had a weird feeling about him? like how something always felt… off?” oh well. if he wants to continue putting on a show, then so be it. besides, it’ll be a funny story to tell beomgyu later on.

you nod.

“well, he always looked at me weirdly. like, whenever i’d walk into the room, there was always this… this tension and i never knew why, but i understood it as soon as we made things official. it’s because he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment and yeonjun actually thinks he’s getting through to you before you burst into near-maniacal laughter. his face falls.

“beomgyu? beomgyu likes me?” you say between giggles. beomgyu loves you like a sister. no way in hell does he harbor a shred of romantic love for you. 

“you’re not listening,” he grunts, slightly tugging at his own hair in frustration. “he’s always been weird, and the other night at the bar, he introduced me to that girl you saw me ‘kissing’. they kept giving me drinks until i could barely fucking see straight. then she kept coming onto me, but i said no. i finally told her to kick rocks, but the next thing i knew was that she was kissing me. i know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.” you want to dismiss everything he’s saying, but his utter sincerity seems to strike a chord within you. you can’t say you believe him, but he continues before you can properly digest his words.

“think about it. why the hell would i cheat in such a public place where all of our friends hang out? don't you think i would be smarter than that? and even if i wasn't, you know me. you know i would never cheat on you.” he seems desperate now, but it’s still hard to believe that beomgyu orchestrated this entire thing instead of the very real possibility that yeonjun just got drunk and acted recklessly.

“alright, this isn’t funny anymore. you need to stop,” you warn, not liking how much he’s making sense.

“think,” he repeats with conviction.

so you do. you think back to all of the tumultuous relationships you’ve had until now. they've all ended in different ways, yes, but they all had one common denominator: beomgyu. oh, beomgyu saw your boyfriend getting cozy with his ex. you’re having an argument with your boyfriend? beomgyu thinks he’s a piece of shit because of how he treats you, you obviously deserve better! wait, your boyfriend keeps taking too long to text you back? he’s just losing interest! it’s clearly better to break it off now rather than getting too invested when you’re inevitably going to break up, anyway. and all the other greatest hits. your face twists from focused to horrified as the realization sinks into your bones. it's beomgyu. it’s always been beomgyu. 

you look to yeonjun with pure shock in your eyes and he meets your gaze with a look of sympathy. you finally get it. 

“junie, i’m so sorry,” you say, tears springing into your eyes. “i’m so sorry i doubted you.” 

“it’s okay,” he replies with a melancholy smile. “he manipulated you.” 

“does… does that mean we’re back together now?” you ask, voice tinged with hope. his smile falters at your question, and you feel a sense of dread.

“i need some time,” he says after a pause, dropping his hand from yours. “you really hurt me. i understand that beomgyu manipulated you, but it really hurts that you didn't trust me, you know?” 

“i understand,” you quietly reply. you’d be hurt if the tables were turned — it’s only natural. you just hope to god above that you haven’t let beomgyu ruin another good thing for you.

-

beomgyu is confused as to why you’ve been ignoring him for the better part of a week. you don’t respond when he texts or calls, and his intuition is telling him that it has something to do with yeonjun. maybe you’re just shutting down because of the breakup? it was particularly brutal this time around, after all. he’s lucky that yeonjun has such a lascivious sexual history, or else you might not have bought his little charade, even with the proof presented directly in front of you. that’s how much you love(d) yeonjun. the thought causes jealousy to rear its ugly head in his stomach, but whatever. there’s no way you’re going back to him after the way the scandal has made its way through your social life. even if you do want to get back together with him, there's no way your pride will let you. your pride has been a particularly nasty sort of obstacle in beomgyu’s pursuit of you, but it’s absolutely delicious to be able to use it against you like this. serves you fucking right.

still, it’s his job as your dutiful best friend to cheer you up. with this in mind, he picks up your favorite takeout and heads to your place. he smiles when he imagines the way you’ll gratefully embrace him once you realize that he’s here for you. maybe this time you’ll understand that he’s always been the one who’s there for you when someone hurts you. maybe this time will be his big break, finally freeing him from the purgatory he has been in for god knows how long.

he knocks on your door with a hopeful smile on his face. surprisingly, you’re swinging the door open mere seconds later with your eyes similarly lit up with hope.

“yeon— oh. it’s you,” you say, deflating immediately. there’s a certain sense of resentment in your tone that he catches onto, but he chalks it up to disappointment. his face falls. goddamn it. damn it all to hell.

“i brought you some food to cheer you up,” he says while shaking the plastic takeout bag, completely ignoring the slip of another man’s name. 

he invites himself in, slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the couch as he usually does. 

he waits for you to join him, but when he looks up at you, all he sees is you staring at him, arms crossed and face contorted in anger. surely you can’t be that upset that he’s not yeonjun, right? now that he thinks about it, why would you be expecting yeonjun, anyway? hadn’t you effectively cut him off? did you talk to him and take him back after all that (you think) he’s done? that can’t be right. unless… unless you actually let him talk to you. oh god, please tell him that’s not what happened.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, face devoid of anything deeper than curiosity and worry. 

you’re silent for a moment before you carefully choose your next words.

“i talked to yeonjun,” you reply, and his heart sinks to his stomach. “he told me some… interesting things.”

beomgyu hopes you don’t notice how hard he gulps. you do not.

“what did he say?” he asks, face tense but still showing no clear signs of guilt. 

“he told me what happened that night. he told me how you got him drunk and basically forced that girl onto him. he also said that you’re the reason none of my relationships work out,” you declare, opting to stop beating around the bush and just get some answers. you study his face for a crack of some sort, but there is none.

“and what do you think?” he asks quietly.

“i think… i think he might be telling the truth,” is what you say, but you’re sounding increasingly unsure with every word because beomgyu looks more hurt than you’ve ever seen him.

“you believe him over me?” he asks, voice cracking and lips trembling with his brown eyes glossed over in what you can only describe as devastation. god, either beomgyu’s a really good actor, yeonjun’s a really good actor, or you’re just fucking stupid.

“i… i don’t know what to think, beomgyu,” you whisper after a pause. all he does is nod before his next words pierce your heart.

“is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

jesus christ. you were so sure that yeonjun was telling the truth when he told you about beomgyu, so ignoring him only seemed natural under the circumstances, but he looks every bit like the victim in light of your accusations. his trembling lips and wounded gaze make you want to strangle yourself for ever doubting him. as you feel yourself being consumed with remorse, though, you remember the sincerity and desperation in yeonjun’s words. maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding? maybe they’re both convinced that they’re right? 

“y-yes. i’m sorry. i was just confused. maybe he just misunderstood?” you babble. he likes your hesitancy, but it’s still wearing on his patience. as much as he wants to say he can’t believe that you’d question him because of some guy you dated, he can believe it when it comes to you. you always, always, always hurt him like this, and he’s had just about enough.

“and what if it’s true?” he asks, pathetic facade wiped clean off of his face while something more somber replaces it entirely. your eyes lock with his and you’re stunned silly. 

“what?” is all you can manage to reply with. 

“what if i pushed that girl onto yeonjun? what if i ruined all of your relationships? what would you do?” 

“so it’s true?!” is all you can say, guilt flaring into sheer rage and hurt. 

“so what if it is?” he asks, as if he doesn’t comprehend how twisted this is.

“so… so how could you do that to me?!” 

“i was only doing what’s best for you,” he impatiently replies. “they were only gonna hurt you, can’t you see that? even before i did anything, there were still all those men who cheated on you, lied to you, used you. what’s wrong with wanting to protect you from people like them? i just couldn’t stand to see you living like that!” he argues, clearly believing he’s completely justified in all of this.

sure, you’ve been hurt before even without his intervention, but that doesn’t mean he can just play puppeteer in your love life to “protect” you from anything similar happening ever again. you trusted him and he manipulated you. he acted like a knight in shining armor this entire time while knowingly sabotaging any potentially good thing that could come your way. and he did it all because he wants to protect you? bullshit. 

“you know, i thought that even if everyone other man in the world could hurt me, you never would,” you say shakily, either from sadness or anger. maybe both. “i guess i was wrong.”

“hurt you?! hurt is watching the person you love fuck other people over and over and over again! hurt is watching you laugh me off and never even fucking considering me as an option, goddamn it!” he yells while slamming his hand on your coffee table. 

“so your solution was to fuck up every relationship i have just to have me to yourself?! do you not realize how fucked up that is?!” you yell back, trying to appear unfazed by his increasingly enraged behavior. he seems to falter at this, genuinely at a loss for words at your unforgiving pinpointing of his erratic actions. the desperate, eager-to-please beomgyu you know all too well is finally back and you feel your confidence surge because of it.

“i only did that because —”

“why? because you love me? or think you do?” you mock with a hollow laugh. “you don’t purposely ruin the life of someone you love.” he looks genuinely wounded by your words. 

“but i —”

“i don’t care. get out,” you say mercilessly. you’re absolutely through with listening to his fucked up ideations about love and what his twisted moral compass deems as justified because of it. you’re so preoccupied with preaching on your soapbox, you don’t even realize his attitude has once again shifted from the compliant beomgyu to the one you don’t recognize at all. 

“... no,” he says flatly. 

“did you not fucking hear me? i said get out,” you repeat through clenched teeth. normally, your raised hackles would be enough to scare him off, so you figure he’ll tuck his tail and leave right about now. oh, how wrong you are.

“are you deaf?” he asks with a sneer. “i said no.”

“what do you mean, no?” you ask. somewhere in the depths of your mind, alarm bells begin ringing, but it’s far too late to heed them. plus, you’re still under the impression that he’ll bend to your will. 

“oh, so you’re not deaf. just stupid,” he snorts. your jaw is agape at his audacity. beomgyu has caught an attitude and gotten fresh with you before, sure, but nothing like this. to say you’re dumbstruck would be to put things in the mildest of terms. you can barely get out your next sentence.

“w-what do you mean?” 

“i’m not leaving this apartment,” he says firmly, and before you can even ask him to explain, he’s dragging you away with a painful grip.

“ow! beomgyu, you’re hurting m—” 

“shut up. i told you what real hurt is, but you're not fucking listening. i don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth,” he says in a monotone voice. if the alarm bells were ringing in the depths of your mind before, they’re absolutely blaring at the forefront of your brain right now. 

“what are y-you —”

“i thought i told you to shut up,” he snaps before roughly grabbing your face and planting his lips on yours. the kiss is crude. it’s absolutely vulgar with the way it’s all tongue and teeth and saliva, but after a few seconds of uncertainty, you find yourself melting into it. this is wrong. you two are the best of friends, almost like brother and sister. and more than that, you love yeonjun, right? you’re supposed to be working on getting back together with him, aren’t you? but your reason starts to be sucked away as you feel his hands caress your body, leaving nothing but fire in their wake.

you don’t know how you got here, almost completely naked as you lay on your back while beomgyu continues attacking your lips. it’s blazing hot and you can’t help but feel your underwear becoming wet with every moan that escapes his mouth and consequently reverberates onto your tongue. as if he already knows the intricacies of your internal battle, one of his hands finds its way to your now soaking wet pussy and he uses his index and middle fingers to spread the slickness around. he swirls his fingers around your hole and just barely pushes one of them into the entrance. you gasp at the shallow intrusion and you can feel his notorious shit-eating grin pressed across your lips as he feels how tight you are. you’re ridiculously turned on and he knows it. he pauses his actions only to unzip his pants and yank them down to his knees. your eyes widen at what you can only describe as his huge appendage, all reddened and already leaking. you feel your cunt throbbing with even more need at the sight, but your last shred of reason still makes you hesitate.

“beomgyu, we can't… we're friends, and yeonjun is —”

“can’t you just let me make you feel good? god, you’re making this so difficult, but what the fuck else is new,” he growls. 

he's right. you are making things difficult. there's no way of salvaging your friendship after this, so what's the point in holding back now? you realize that while he may be absolutely unhinged, his feelings for you are real. do you reciprocate them? you don’t know yet, but the thought of him doting on another person the same way he dotes on you makes you feel uneasy. as for yeonjun? well, he deserves better than the cesspool of turbulent emotions that you currently find yourself in. 

“you still sure you don’t want me?” he asks cockily. you, with all of your pride, can only muster up a feeble shake of your head. he knew the answer before you gave it to him, but his condescending gaze shows you that your words have scratched a certain itch of his.

he rubs his hardened length against your folds and it’s all you can do to resist locking your ankles around his waist and pulling him into you, but something stops you. protection. you don’t even have to say it, because he knows you too well for your own good.

“let me fuck you raw,” he says breathily, just barely poking his length into your tight hole. “i know you need it, baby. just let me take care of you.” you’re silent for a moment before pinching out your next words.

“p-pull out?” he won’t because he knows you’ll be begging him for his cum when he’s done with you, and you already know he won’t, even when he nods and promises he will. you don't know why you even asked. 

the ache you feel to have him buried inside you is quickly replaced by the ache you feel once he begins to stretch you out. it’s a stinging, burning sort of pain, but that’s nothing in comparison to the pure pleasure you feel as his flared tip drags along your walls. he begins with thrusting shallowly, fucking you open like you’re a virgin, and you’re so tight while he’s so big, you might as well be. 

painfully slowly, he pushes each and every inch of himself into your gummy hole. he reaches places you didn’t even know existed and stretches you open so good all you have the brainpower to call the sensation is fullness. overwhelming fullness. when he finally sheathes himself in you completely, a strangled cry leaves both of your throats as you feel him throbbing inside of you and he, in turn, feels you pulsating around him. 

after you adjust, you expect him to start drilling into you with reckless abandon, but he does nothing of the sort. just watches you with a strange look on his face. 

“b-beomie? what are you doing?” you ask pathetically, head raising up from its place on the pillows to meet his wanton gaze.

“beg me for it.”

“beg for w—” your question is interrupted by a sharp smack on your sensitive pussy. 

“beg me for it. beg me to fuck you like a whore. i won’t tell you again,” he says menacingly. your bleary eyes are so confused, so stupid, and so, so cute, but he’s determined to use the last of his self-control to get you to feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s felt for years. well, even if you don’t, he’ll spend the whole night fucking you dumb until you do. but you’re so hungry for his dick, you don’t even realize that he’s bluffing.

finally, you understand what he’s asking of you, and you waste no time to comply. 

“n-need your cock, beomie. need you to make me f-feel good,” you say, trying to retain even a semblance of your dignity. this brings a mean smirk to his face, but he’s not done with you, yet.

“surely you can do better than that?” he taunts, rocking his hips ever so slightly so you can feel every inch of his length and girth teasingly hitting your cervix, but providing no relief. fuck your dignity. you need him.

“please! please, i need you! need your cock to fill me up!” you whine.

“mhmm, and?”

“need you to fuck me! need you to fill me up with your cum!” well, there goes your resolve to have him pull out. this seems to satisfy his sadistic desires.

“oh, my love. all you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin. and that’s when he starts. 

his hips meet yours in the most punishing way, and that’s what this is: a punishment for the way you’ve treated him all these years. you can feel it in the way that his fingernails dig into your skin and in the way that he mercilessly presses down on your tummy until all you can feel is pressure building up to something unknown.

“who else can fuck you like this? who else can split you open like this?” he asks as lewd squelches reverberate throughout the room. 

“n-nobody! only you, beomie!” you cry.

“that’s my good girl, such a good girl. baby just needs me to use her like a fucktoy, right?” and all you can do is whine and clench in carnal need as the poor springs of your bed squeak with every unforgiving thrust.

“oh, you like that, don’t you?” he snickers. “you like being my little whore. you’re just a toy for me, alright? free to use whenever i feel like it.” you nod in agreement and he lets out a chuckle as he pounds into you at an unimaginable speed, balls slapping your ass with every fiery thrust. each time he pumps into you, your pussy’s clamping down on him and sucking him in like that’s where he’s meant to be. and maybe it is. 

“god, i’m close,” he groans after pumping into you for what feels like hours, and you whimper like a bitch in heat. “honey, don’t worry,” he tuts. “i’ll fuck you every day, i’ll fill you with my cum so you can’t leave. not that you’ll want to after this. you’re made for me, made to be my cumdump whenever i want.” 

“y-yes!” you shriek, somehow liking the idea of being full of his cum forever and ever. 

“that’s my girl. baby just wants me to fuck her good. that’s all you needed, right? that’s why you’ve been such a brat. you just needed me to show you what it’s like to be fucked right,” he says, rolling your clit for good measure, which is enough to make you reach your high as it comes crashing down around you. beomgyu wasn’t lying when he said he was close, so when he feels you clenching around his big cock as if you’re milking him for all that he’s worth, you feel it twitching before hot bursts of cum paint your inner walls until you’re leaking white and seeing stars. he continues with slow, lazy pumps until he softens. you stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, breathing raggedly while your bodies are overcome with thrums of delight. 

when he finally pulls out and lays down beside you, bodies slick with sheens of sweat, he pushes your hair back behind your ear and plants a kiss on your temple. shakily, he takes his hand and rubs it along your distended tummy, full of his cum. he lovingly strokes it with an awed smile on his face.

“such a good girl for me,” he repeats. “i can’t wait until you’re pregnant. you’ll have as many babies as i can give you, right?” and all you can do is nod deliriously. he smiles in satisfaction as you eagerly agree to his every nasty, perverted thought. “god, i love you so much. and you love me too, right? say it. say you love me.”

“i love you.” and you realize that you do.  this man is deranged, but he’s yours, and for better or for worse, you're his. especially now that you might very well be carrying his children. and even if you aren’t, you know he’ll make good on his promises to keep fucking you until you are. should you be glad that he effectively ruined every potential relationship for you? you were unsure before, but you realize that nobody has or ever will love you as much as he does, even if he has a demented way of showing it. well, it is what it is. there’s no way out after this.

notes pt. 2: i hope this goes over better after the editing!

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

join one of my taglists here!

[venuscrashed]

demon brothers x gn!ghosthunter!reader

i just started the game so please don’t come at me/ let me know if you guys want more of this au

warnings: based off phasmophobia, no pronouns used

Word count: about 600 in total

More Headcannons

Okay, now imagine the demon brothers with a ghost hunter reader. Who also happens to hunt demons, like in phasmophobia. They wouldn’t know your job at first but once you tell them you can only imagine their reactions.

Lucifer: He would obviously know your job from the start. Although, he was still a bit hesitant to accept you. He was cautious around you, always keeping a close eye on you. Whenever you would grab something he would stiffen but it wasn’t obvious. Later on he would be fine, even joke about it. “MC, is there any chance that you can do your ghost hunting thing on my brothers.” “If you don’t calm down I’ll have MC start an exorcism.” 

Mammon: Was literally like whaaat? Thinks it’s really cool, honestly. “Yeah! That's my human kicking ghost's butt.” Would somehow turn it into a money scheme. He would also cling onto you in haunted houses and such. “The Great Mammon ain’t scared. He’s protecting you because you’re not used to ghosts anymore.” Would totally tag along if you were to do some ghost haunting in Diavolo’s castle. “MC how do you use the glow stick?” “AHHHGHGHH it talked to me!” “Mammon it's a spirit box, it’s supposed to do that.”

Levi: If you stream it he would totally watch it. Would see you when you arrive and be like “OMD you’re that streamer that does ghost hunting!” Instantly becomes your number one fan. Would think you’re really brave considering he can’t talk to regular people. He hides and blushes whenever he sees you be brave…or see you in general. Plays phasmophobia with you, and is really good. He would be an expert at ghost chases and looping. One second into the house “It’s a Yurei. Let’s gag and go.” Becomes more of a professional then you.

Satan: When he first met you he felt some sort of nostalgia, like you two have crossed paths before. It isn’t until he sees your scar or necklace that his cult wears. It’s inevitable that you would come across satanic worshippers and be sacrificed, or be one. Asks you questions and even gives you tips. Gives you full permission to summon him if his cult members mess with you again. Would tag along on your ghost hunters and probably remember all of their traits. “It’s an Oni. The airball event tells me enough.”

Asmo: Again if you stream he would totally watch. Would totally brag about your guys' friendships. Would even post a pic of you two and caption it “Demon x Demon hunter: the best couple” if you two were dating. Would only tag along to act scared and hide behind you just so you can protect him and be brave. “Oh~ MC. It’s scary in here, the ghost keeps scaring me.” “Asmo you're literally a demon.”

Beel: Is like “oh.” He understands why you hunt ghosts but doesn’t really see the point. Would be like “I can protect you.” Would totally watch your streams while he eats, especially if they’re hours long. If he tags along he stays close to you so he can protect you. Would totally be the man in the van. He’s sitting there eating while watching the camera for dots. I feel like he would be good at motion sensors and para mic. Has good intuition to, “It’s the twins.” “Beel we haven't even been here for a minute.” “It reminds me of Belphie and me.”

Belphie: Would hate you more than he originally did. “Did Lucifer choose you to spite me?” Would complain about you for so long “But they’re dangerous.” Once he warms up to you he’ll joke about it. “Can you get rid of Lucifer with your demon experience.” IF he tagged along he would sleep in the van next to Beel. Maybe I would bring you the supplies but nothing past that. Don’t tell him you know but he plays your stream in the background to sleep. If he stays awake he is fully immersed into it and even laughs when you get scared.

[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy chapter 41: The Dark Bingo Tournament, part 1 (Quick translation)

The lore deepens..

source | previous chapter | part 2 | index

Cover page side note : Sanji-kun's morning starts with black coffee.

Editor's note: what was discussed while playing trump at the Doflamingo countermeasure headquarters?

-

Everyone: An undercover investigation?

Cora: Yeah...

Cora: Doffy is supposed to attend a certain meeting tonight. Law and I will have an investigation trip.

Robin: 'A certain'...?

Luffy: ..Party with Mingo? I'm coming as well!!

Nami: They just said it's an investigation!

Law: Outside, it's a Bingo party with the Grand City enterprises.

But in reality... It's a meet-and-greet ceremony with the Dark World's residents.

Chopper: The Dark world... Meaning the bad adults? Er, Eleven-Back...

Robin: Eight-Stop (T/N: these are Daifugou card game terms)

Cora: It's all my intuitive prediction, though.

Doffy got himself his first new suit in a long time. There's something to this...

If they meet, it's possible that he'd sign a contract to become part of the gangs then and there. We have to stop this somehow.

Zoro: What do you mean 'somehow'? You haven't decided what to do yet?

Sanji: You want to stop them without being busted. It ain't a simple task at all.

Vivi: Definitely a high risque plan for high schoolers.... Triple Queen.

Cora: I'm one of the students who is given authority by the country and the school to 'investigate and use force'.

Coby: Something like Student council, or Public morals corps?

Cora: Right... Coby, you were part of the Public morals corps, aren't you.

Nami: Hey, Cora-chan... Was Doflamingo always like this? You've lived with him, haven't you?

Cora:....

Our family, the Donquixote Family "used to be" one of the great families of the world. We brothers were raised by kind hearted mother and father.

Vivi: The Donquixote Family! I've heart bits about it from Papa.

Cora: 'Cause Vivi-chan's Nefertari family is also one of those great families!

Usopp: That sounds like a nice family!

Brook: What do you mean by "used to be?"

Cora: A fall from a prestigious family to rock bottom... That's what I mean.

Father, unfamiliar with business, tried his hand at several private charity projects. Unfortunately, every single one ended in huge failure. Our family lost all its possessions, and we lost our social standing.

Those were terrible days, filled with hunger. There were people who's mock and laugh at us for getting the boot, kicked out of the town.

All of it was probably unbearable for my brother. He developed a deep seated hate towards the townsfolk and father.

Then, Doffy disappeared from the sight of me and family. As years passed on...

Cora: I discovered him in the streets as one of the thugs.

Sanji: I guess, he was royally messed up.

Vivi: So he has a past like this behind that perpetual jolly demeanor...

Chopper: Vivi...

Luffy: Corao, I'm bringing leftover food with me.

Cora: Bring with you? You're going somewhere?

Luffy: Why, at Mingo's party!

(Continues in reblogs) ⬇️

[9800sblog]

Pick a card tarot reading - which TV show and movie are you and your friends in?

can be your next friendgroup too!

-> let's talk about your dynamics with others and the contexts you and your friends are inserted; do you have a potential lover in your friendgroup? can you identify who is your closest friend there? what are the possible next events? which TV show and movie would you love to watch right now?

-> this is exclusively my interpretation of what tarot cards showed me through energy reading, I could be wrong, take only what you think makes sense to you and message me if you have any questions! ^^

let's get into it!!!!

pick your pile

from up to down: Pile 1 (The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You - My Chemical Romance), Pile 2 (Flashing Lights - Kanye West, Dwele), Pile 3 (Would've, Could've, Should've - Taylor Swift)

Pile 1

South Park and Harry Potter

the existence of your group in itself is odd, you're all totally different, but share something in common that bonds you. your group follows some sort of structure, likely meeting at school everyday and/or living nearby each other and have been/will be together during your formative years (childhood and teen years). you will always see these people as your home, even if just through nostalgia, you go through unimaginable adversities together. you resolve problems with unkindness and you always get away with stuff. overall, lots of people don't like y'all because you're all self absorbed, but someone in the group specifically, probably the "leader", thinks they're somehow special and that drives outsiders crazy. your group is the outcasts who think they are popular and are given special treatment from people in power. you guys dare to be different and act the way your intuition says to act, you're not worried about acting the way you're expected or "supposed" to act because you think people like that are dumb, you have childlike souls. your intentions are pure and you're just trying to live your life with fun and without worry, if anyone gets in the way of that, a fight is sure to happen. this group is totally platonic.

Pile 2

The Good Place and The Craft

this is my spiritual friend group! you hang out to practice things, you're a team, this might be a literal sports team working on their team spirit. the leader of this group is a liar! I wouldn't trust them. this group doesn't or hasn't worked well together because people are/were acting selfishly; secrets, gossips and arguments, the minute you guys identify and end the manipulations, this team will be stronger than ever! happy individuals and an unbreakable bond. of course it won't be easy! there is so much hard work required, many discussions and ugly endings, but teamwork is the dream work. this might require you to kick someone out. you guys have a spiritual connection, work on being better people for your own selves and you'll have a revolutionary relationship, life-changing stuff that will help many others.

Pile 3

The Office and Clueless

brought together by the most soul crushing responsibilities, you guys work so well together because you respect each other's individuality. you make everyday life fun by exploring different outcomes of boring events, you don't wanna be stuck where you are so you try to push each other to go out of their comfort zones and y'all pretty imature when you're together! your work may be mediocre but who cares? it doesn't matter! you follow your passions in other ways anyways, these are just annoying obligations. your connections are fulfilling and make you happy, you find comfort in them, you're so similar, yet so different, with different backgrounds and stories. you may find that romance you've been dreaming of in your friend group!! best friends to lovers :D (please don't date your "ex" step brother)

[kumeko]

A/N: For @gcsfanzine ! I love the antics these three get into, with Selina forced into the responsible role because she’s the only one of the three with some conscience.

…

…

…

…

Ivy was sick. Selina took a moment to contemplate the thought, to fully savour the situation she found herself in. Poison Ivy, Pamela Isley, one-woman army and stone-cold bitch, was sick. Sick enough to need help, to ask for help.

And the well-known misanthrope needed Selina’s help.

It was hard enough to think about, let alone believe. Yet, Selina couldn’t doubt the evidence in front of her. Sprawled across Harley’s plush, king-sized mattress, an extremely grumpy Ivy glared at the ceiling. Her fingers tapped the blankets ceaselessly, her jaw clenched so hard Selina could have broken walnuts against it. She looked like a cantankerous alley cat. She also looked entirely out of place buried amongst Harley’s infinite plushies.

How Harley had managed to force Ivy into her bedroom, Selina had no idea. The whole place looked like the residence of a punk princess, a strange hybrid of cute frills and black leather. Neither of the two vibes fit Ivy and put together they just looked even more garish.

“Ahh.” Ivy breathed out harshly before forcing herself up into a seated position. Her red hair clung to her sticky skin, giving her an oddly deflated appearance. There was a reddish tint to her green skin. All in all, she looked like a sick person. A very cranky sick person. “I’m leaving.”

Selina snorted inelegantly. There was the Ivy she knew and tolerated. From across the room, she gestured at the foot of the bed and raised a brow. “How? You broke your leg. And you have a fever.”

Ivy fisted her hand and hit the mattress. A shark plushie fell off the bed. “The fucking hyenas broke it.” Her hair had a life of its own and rose, giving her a lion-like mane. Maybe it sensed its mistress’s rage. “I’ll kill them.”

“You’d be doing me a favour.” Selina wrinkled her nose as she thought of those mangy mutts. The number of times she’d almost lost a cat to them—she should have kicked them out months ago.

“Hey!” Harley growled as she entered the room holding a tray laden with food. She was dressed as a sexy nurse, though that didn’t make her glare any less intimidating as she stomped her foot. “Stop being mean to my babies!”

Selina rubbed her forehead. By now, she should be used to Harley’s level of chaos and nonsense, but somehow the woman continued to surprise her. At least the soup looked decent. “Did you really need the outfit?”

Holding the tray in one hand, Harley arched her back and jutted her hip as she mimicked a pin up poster. “Of course! It’s part of the care package!” She blew a kiss to Ivy. “Don’t you just love it?”

Not caring a wit about the fanservice, Ivy’s expression grew colder than the tundra. “Pick one of them to die or they all will.”

“Neither!” Harley carefully set the soup down on her side table before turning to Ivy. She bent forward and poked her sick friend on the cheek. “I’ll take good care of you in exchange.”

“You’d have to do that anyways!” Ivy swatted her hand away, her scowl only increasing in intensity. “This happened because of you.”

“She has a point, you know.” Selina crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, more than content to just watch the show instead of participating. “We had a deal. Your hyenas are supposed to stay in the basement.”

“They do!” Harley pouted, puffing her cheeks as she glanced up at Selina. “I was only taking them out for a walkie.”

If Harley intended for that to be reassuring, it was the exact opposite. Selina groaned and closed her eyes. There were enough eyes on their shared residence without the hyenas as is. “Oh, so I should expect more missing pet flyers? These things are a nuisance.”

“They’re not things, they’re family.” Between the pig-tails and the pout, Harley was akin to a sulking toddler. Sometimes Selina couldn’t believe that she had a degree and keen intuition. “They just get hungry sometimes but they know better than to mess with you. Or your cats.”

“Oh, and is that why they tackled me?” Ivy asked, her smile as sharp as a razor blade at the slight. “Food? They think I’m weak?”

“They just bumped into you! It’s not their fault you were holding poison. And it didn’t just splash on you, it hit them!” Harley huffed, crossing her arms. She turned up her nose. “Maybe you should be more careful.”

Ivy’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Are you blaming me?”

Selina could practically feel the vines crawling through the pipes and concrete. She groaned. “Don’t break the place, I just finished paying for it.”

“My plants are hungry.” Ivy pushed her hair out of her face, steeling herself as she tried to get up. “Maybe I should give them a snack.”

Harley grabbed her shoulders and firmly pushed her down. “You’re still sick and stop saying that!”

At this rate, Selina was going to get a headache. Or become homeless. It was time to step in. Slowly, she approached the struggling pair. “Harley.” She rested her hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Just enough that the threat was there. “Next time, the hyenas are gone.”

Harley glanced at her, then looked away. “Fineeee.”

“Great.” Selina turned to Ivy and tried not to smirk. Maybe she should take a picture later, for blackmail. “It’s too late to go back to your room, just live with it.”

Ivy’s frown deepened, as though she heard Selina’s thoughts. “I—” she protested.

Harley cut her off. “If you want to leave, I have to feed you.”

“Huh?” Flabbergasted, Ivy stared at her.

Harley picked up a spoon. She smiled deviously. “Should I pretend this is a train? Or maybe a bee coming to pollinate?”

“…fuck you.” Ivy snatched the spoon.

“Great, we have a deal! I’ll go get a cooling pack.” Harley sprang to her feet. Blowing another kiss, she spun on her heel and skipped out of the room. “Just you wait, I have great patient care.”

“Fifty bucks says she kills you,” Selina said the second Harley disappeared.

“It’s not a bet if we’re both on the same side.” Ivy tucked her hair behind her ear and took a careful sip of the soup. “Huh, not bad.”

“So she really can cook.” Selina shook her head. Was it something Harley had picked up after she’d changed, or was it something a lonely psychiatrist had learned after pulling long shifts? “It’s not poisoned?”

“Probably not.” Ivy took another spoonful. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, as though absorbing information on it. Maybe she could; Selina never fully understood her meta abilities with plants and their poisons. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe I should bet she’ll actually heal you.” Selina reached forward, pressing a hand to Ivy’s neck. “Your fever doesn’t seem that high and if you can talk and eat like that, I guess that other poison didn’t actually hurt you that much.”

Ivy stiffened under her touch and Selina recoiled. They stared at each other for a long moment before Selina looked away. “Force of habit,” she muttered in lieu of an apology.

“Habit?” Ivy lightly touched her neck.

“That…it’s an old memory.” Selina clenched her hand. A very old memory. It had been years since she’d let herself think of her childhood on the streets, even longer since she let herself think of Maggie and Holly and how they used to be.

Ivy studied her before changing the topic. It was oddly tactful of her. “The poison was just a paralysis.”

“But you can move?”

“Barely.” Ivy flopped back on the bed, her hair spreading around her. “I doubt I could actually make it back to my room.”

“And here you were trying to act so strong.” Selina snickered. Maybe she should have let Ivy try, if only to see her flop off the bed and stumble down the hall. “I’ll get you a Tylenol.”

Ivy scowled. “I don’t need any medicine. It’s not like they work on me anyways.”

“That’s why you don’t turn your blood into a pharmacy cocktail,” Selina muttered, rolling her eyes. “Then I’ll just grab one for myself. If I have to keep dealing with your weird foreplay, I’ll need it.”

As she left, she dodged the plush piranha Ivy hurled. “You really are doing better,” Selina teased before disappearing down the hall.

In the distance, she could hear several small thuds as Harley got her care supplies. Clearly, she was going after more than just a cooling pack, and Selina was both scared and curious to find out what it was. Either way, she’d have to especially make sure she didn’t get sick after this. With Ivy’s vindictive personality, Selina would suffer two-fold in Harley’s hands.

A soft nudge shook her out of her stupor. Selina peeked down to find Alexander, a calico tom, brushing against her as she walked. She chuckled, reaching down to give him a good head rub before entering her bedroom.

Perhaps it was because she had worn a costume for years now, whether it was for good or evil, but Selina had a well-stocked medicine cabinet that could rival a drug store. Amidst ordinary painkillers and bandages, there were black market drugs to cover any niche injury. Selina’s finger brushed against each bottle as she checked for more over-the-counter solution.

The first one on the second row froze her.

With shaky fingers, she pulled it out and stared at it. A baby’s cough medicine. Grape flavoured. Only a third of it used. The bottle was brown.

Selina should have tossed it long ago. She should toss it now.

She wasn’t quite ready to let go of that dream, of her daughter returning home.

Pressing her forehead against the cabinet, Selina sighed. Ivy wasn’t the only one vulnerable tonight, it seemed. This wasn’t the time or place for these thoughts. They certainly weren’t the right people to have these thoughts around. Even now, Harley and Ivy still tried to pry into her relationship with Gotham’s protectors, hoping to extract the valuable secret identities she carefully guarded.

Who knew what they’d do if they found out about her daughter or her sister or any of the people Selina had stepped on to get to where she was now?

“This is stupid,” Selina muttered to herself as she returned to Harley’s room. She’d just make sure Ivy was alive, that Harley wasn’t up to no good, and then she’d retire for the day. It had been a trying couple of hours. She’d earned a rest.

“Are you seriously staying all night?” Ivy snarled.

A rest she was definitely not going to get. Selina braced herself as she entered Harley’s room. As expected, Ivy was still lying on the bed, though now with a neon blue ice-pack on her forehead. Her hands kept reaching it, trying to tear it off, but Harley kept swatting them back down.

Harley sniffed. “I have to, you’re too stubborn to heal up otherwise.”

The surprise was Harley. As usual. Perched on the bed right next to Ivy, she wrapped an arm around Ivy’s shoulders to hold her in place. The bowl of soup next to her was half-finished, so Selina didn’t have to worry if Ivy would starve tonight. On Ivy’s knees, a laptop perched precariously.

Noticing her return, Harley waved. “You’re back!”

“I thought I should keep the house in one piece,” Selina drawled, glancing at Ivy. “Ivy too, I guess.”

“Like you’d last ten minutes with just her,” Ivy scoffed, not buying the bluff.

“We’re watching a movie,” Harley interrupted, grinning. “Wanna join?”

“I…” Selina pursed her lips, her excuse on the tip of her tongue.

“Please?” Harley begged, batting her eyes. “With a cherry on top.”

“If you leave me alone with her, I’ll kill you.” Ivy crossed her arms as she leaned back, accepting her fate. “Sit on the bed but don’t get too comfortable. The second it’s done, you’re both out.”

“Comfortable?” Selina laughed, slipping into the empty space. “Like a cactus like you would let me.”

She didn’t need the reminder. She already knew better. The moment Selina got comfortable with them, the moment she spilled her secrets, these quiet moments would come to an end.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

[jojotier]

Okay. How do you tell your friend-maybe-kinda-enemy-spy that her kid's got superpowers?

John's still kind of at a loss for words, sitting in the middle of Dave's living room and not using any of them because Dave's off making like... he said tea, but John kinda doesn't know if it's actually tea, cause the last time he just boiled gatorade so...

"Hey," Dirk pipes up across from John, and it kind of startles him, because usually Dirk doesn't really say a lot. He just kinda seems to chill, and give off Children of the Corn vibes occasionally. But still, it's nice to hear-

"Children of the Corn?" Dirk asks, raising an eyebrow.

John stops before he can even get out his response to the first thing because wait... how... what

"You're wondering how I'm doing that, right?" Dirk asks.

John starts, "What-"

"- the fuck?" Dirk finishes in his little baby voice.

"You can't just say that-"

"You just thought it?"

John stops. Blinks. God, okay, he... he really doesn't know what to think here, because

"It's kinda weird, right?" Dirk comments, juggling Lil Cal on his hip. When he walks over, he walks over like a little old man, weary of the world at the ripe old age of whenever the kids start teething. "Rox isn't the only one."

John, kind of at a loss for what else to say, says, "I mean yeah, I'm getting the picture."

Dirk's a little late if he wants to scare him, he thinks. Jane did that enough for any of the subsequent kids when she took John's burnt hand and

pivoting his thoughts quickly, John started trying very hard not to think about pink elephants. Because there were some things kids really did not need to see.

"I'm not trying to scare you," Dirk said, putting both of his hands on John's and patting it, "I'm saying that no one will ever believe you."

He stares as Dirk pulls away and shuffles back into the overstuffed armchair off in the corner, kicking his feet on his way up. John wonders if maybe he should get up to help Dirk up, but he feels stuck to the stupid shitty floral patterning on this yard sale futon.

Dirk doesn't respond to any more thoughts. He just sort of fiddles with Cal's creepy plush hands and gallops a Rainbow Dash happy meals toy along the arm of the chair, and whenever he glances up at John, he gets this tiny little smile on his face before going back to pretending that he doesn't see John five seconds away from a meltdown, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with THIS information, exactly??

He still doesn't look up when Dave comes into the room. It's a fisher price tea set in Dave's hands. John stares blankly at the face plastered to the side of the plastic kettle and wonders how it is that the more he learns about literally anyone he knows, the more he's realizing none of them are like. Normal.

"Dave," John weakly tries to say, "I think Dirk can... read... minds."

"Yeah man- kid's introspective as hell," Dave says, puffing out his chest. "Makes me think if he can hear my thoughts sometimes, like, he's that good at guessin' what's runnin' round the custard bowl I got spinnin' on this fine neck a' mine. Rose might say she don't hear shit but her fancy degrees ain't got nothin' on Dirk's intuition."

Dirk pipes up to say, "John's gonna say that no, really, I can read minds."

John's eyes bulge open wide as he gestures, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. "Literally!! He literally just read my mind!!! What-"

"Hell yeah my guy," Dave nods approvingly, "Told ya."

"John's being serious," Dirk says.

Dave pours John a cup of suspiciously sugary-smelling tea, "Yeah, I getcha. It'd be kinda rad if he could, honestly. Helps with all the propaganda."

"Of course he c-" John stops up short. Wait. "Wait, what?"

"What?" Dave asks.

"You said something? About propaganda?"

Dirk, looking at something near Dave's shoe, chimes in, "Prospit propaganda." and Dave shoots him a look, shaking his head very rapidly but also in a very minute way somehow.

"What about Prospitian...?" John starts to ask, following Dirk's line of sight. Right next to Dave's shoe is one of the many stacks of random miscellaneous papers scattered around the apartment, which didn't really catch John's eye at first because like, well, artists were pretty eccentric, right? And Dave was like a step beyond eccentric. John would even call Dave some kind of fucking weirdo.

But then he tilts his head and squints a little, and he thinks he can make out some words- words like... mology of brain fog resulting from additives, weaponizing the 'ingredients you can pronounce' health craze against Bet

Dave rapidly starts kicking the papers under the couch, firing off at the mouth in the most uncool tirade known to man.

"Whoah, propaganda? Did I say that?" Dave is saying, "Sounds way too fancy for my blood yo, and I know what you're thinkin'- my blood? Less than fancy? You'd sooner believe my blood was poorer than its weight in gold, and I'd be like well schucks, ya got me wasting precious hemoglobin signalin' to the audience that our happy doki doki shoujo romance is about to come into full bloom, 'cept those aftereffects roses are also too fancy for my blood so you're gonna haveta just work with me while I try to rig up the stage lighting and whatever scraps I can fish out the dumpster outside the local Red Cross to-"

As Dave continues to narrate full essays worth of weird possible-excuses, Dirk just looks over at John and says, "Bro thinks too loud." And John now knows.

As Dave somehow gets into the details of how Soviet LOTAK's demise precedented the need for more cartoon penises gratified on bilboards, John takes a sip from his obnoxious kiddie tea cup.

It's hot gatorade.

[thevoidisscreamingbackatyou]

i am a fish inside a birdcage(my brother always sings me songs)

omg guys i wrote something

this started as a ventfic and eventually became 2k12!mikey and leo bonding DBKSBD

i love them your honor

tws: anxiety, dissociation, transphobia, su1cide, death, a kid gets kicked out

this is hurt/comfort i swear

Leo woke up suddenly, eyes wide and heart pouding erratically. She had no idea what was going on. Groaning, she dragged a hand over her face and tried to wake up, head still foggy despite her spiking heartrate.

"Today's a bad day, I suppose," she muttered as she slowly got out of bed, staring uncomprehendingly at the alarm clock next to her. It's flashing red numbers read 3:00 AM, three hours before she would usually wake up.

After staring at the number for some time and willing it to change, she gave up, realizing 3:01 AM was the best she was gonna get. Extra time to meditate? Extra time to meditate, she immediately decided, and slowly started her regular breathing exercises, automatically adjusting to her normal position.

While her siblings often ended up almost immediately in the mindscape, she loved to wait a few moments in the soft darkness behind her eyes, drinking up the peace while she had it. Her heartrate spiked again, and she groaned, her focus interrupted. Softly growling, so as not to wake up her siblings, she tried once more to get into the mindscape, but she just couldn't focus.

Leo gave up, sighing as her hyperactive body refused to listen to her tired brain. It was exhausting, constantly having her body fight itself, but everyone dealed with it, anyways. Whatever.

At least her soul was disconnected from her body now, just the way she liked it. No more anxiety for her. Quickly utilizing her constant exhaustion so that it'd seem like she just woke up to any outsiders, she walked to the kitchen, careful not to make noise. She was a ninja, after all.

Ohhhh no. The fridge. The enemy of night-time snacks. The normally peaceful turtle glared balefully at the creaky door hinges of the fridge, plotting on how to open it without waking any of her stupidly-light sleeping family up. Sighing, she decided it wasn't worth the trouble, not with her nerves already frayed. She sadly poured herself a glass of water and drank it to ease the nervous rock in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, she heard the telltale squeak of shoes against the floor and spun around, her current anxiety making her unable to think straight and ninja properly. She was faced with the sight of Mikey, holding up his hands nonthreateningly.

"Hey, it's just me, dude," he drawled softly, a look of intuitive curiosity on his face. Leo suspected he somehow already knew she was in a mood, which was weird but she supposed that was just Mikey.

"Hey, Mikey," she whispered, her voice slowly failing her. Ohhhh no, I'm going into that 'not talking' feeling, aren't I? She cleared her throat, trying to stop it from happening. She tried to ask Mikey why he was awake, but her brain stopped her, telling her, no no no, do NOT open your mouth, shhhhhh.

"You okay, dude?" he asked concernedly, and her chest constricted even more at the title, if that was possible. She'd never tried telling her siblings that she was…trans, not after that one kid she'd befriended. Oliver. He came out and got kicked out, died a week later from malnutrition, no matter how hard Leo had tried to keep him from dying.

He gave up.

Look, sure, Donnie had come out as nonbinary and everyone had accepted it, but he still went by 'he'. They just had another pronoun, there wasn't a complete opposite change. And besides, Leo was Leo, the perfect kid, the golden child, the leader. She couldn't just be trans.

Whatever. She'd zoned out, which was a weird feeling when she couldn't feel anything. Thankfully, it'd only been a few seconds, and Mikey was still waiting for her to respond expectantly, and oh Jupiter now she had to figure out how to get her mouth to work. Inwardly growling, she used the strings to open her mouth and forced out, "Yes, little brother, I'm completely fine. Are you ok? You're up very early."

Mikey shrugged and looked sad, immediately activating her body's older sister senses. "Had a nightmare," he mumbled, and she used her arm to gesture to the seat next to her, her expression softening, for once in tune with her soul.

He sat, and she guided her arm to be around him, trying not to break down at the sudden overwhelming sense of BAD she felt from the touch. Inwardly, she snapped at her brain, telling it to shut up so she could comfort her brother.

"What was it about?" she asked, trying to bring herself back to the real world without getting too close to the ground. It came out blunter than she intended, and she winced, but Mikey didn't seem offended.

"I…I thought I lost you. You know, that time you were in a coma? I thought you'd never wake up," he mumbled, clearly barely keeping his tears at bay. "A-and…." He burst into sobs, unable to say much more as he wailed into his older sister's chest.

She patted his head gently, her heart breaking in her body even as her soul watched, unresponsive. Softly, her body hummed lullabies to him, occasionally whispering, "I'm here."

And by the end of it, she realized, she actually was.

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

06/02/2024 – 06/08/2024

Sunday

Week 17 of missing Cipher Academy

Girl Meets Rock fine, just going through the motions as the band is entering its final form.

Undead Unluck is pretty fun, it’s great to get this glimpse into Fuuko’s parents and upbringing after all this time. Sean continues to be a favourite for how well he embodies the trope of a silly guy who’s still empathetic and in tune with other people’s needs. Also I’m really amused by that color page and how Tozuka envisions male idols to be LMAOO I can’t wait to see who gets to join Kaede’s backing band.

I checked out Dropout’s new show, Thousandaires, and it’s certainly…interesting. I saw an interview blurb where Sam Reich describes it as show-and-tell, which I’d have to agree with, but it’s just a bit odd to see it used in a “competitive” format. But of course, there isn’t actually any real competition – so the impression I get is like, aggressively positive as the contestants try to make their friends laugh. It’s an odd energy, but so far it’s still been decently fun to watch. Lisa’s was the most straight up comedic bit, but I also have to give kudos to Vic for commissioning a whole musical song for their sister. Jacob’s was cute for how he always looks to give back to the community, but I would have to say that Jiavani’s was my favourite for just how genuinely sweet and fun it was.

Monday

Watched two more episodes of Simpsons, and I’m sorry to say that they weren’t good ones… Homer really annoyed me in the mini-golf episode, and then Bart annoyed me in the subsequent Thanksgiving episode. They both had good endings, I suppose, but the journey to get there was frustrating.

I’m really excited for the Game Changer finale because I vaguely enjoyed the one season of The Circle I watched years ago, and I think the Dropout designers are smarter about how to create a fair game (the people who start at the beginning of The Circle have an insanely better chance at winning than anyone joining later, and the challenges feel really nonsensical), but somehow I think Ratfish has the opposite problem to The Circle. The main gameplay conceit is a lot more interesting and fair, where they all have a chance to deduce each other’s identities based on their intuition and social awareness, but because they filmed the episodes in one day, I didn’t get the build-up of friendships and alliances and other social dynamics that I liked seeing in The Circle. I know they wouldn’t’ve wanted to trap them in a hotel for even a week, but maybe three days would’ve been fun…the general chat and personal chat times just felt so short and inorganic because of the time micromanagement. I love all the characters the cast came up with, but my favourite has to be Zac and Granma Sweetie, he was just so so funny. I’m really sad that he got out first :( So now I’m rooting for Katie to win. And I’ve gotta say…I don’t care about Mr. Eric from Tim and Eric…it’s just a brand of humor I don’t care for at all LOL and the way he chatted was so cringe and “lol xd tacos are so quirky and funny right.” There would be no way for the cast members to guess who he is, so I assume he’s providing some other function in the game – perhaps he and Sam are the ones voting on who their favourite character is? But I’m sure the cast members will get a kick out of seeing him when he’s finally revealed. Anyway I think this format is fun, it just needs a little more room to breathe…I’d love to see it come back in the future like Survivor did.

Tuesday

I had to check out the latest Chainsaw Man chapter because Twitter was exploding about it, and all I can really say is lmao. As ever, we just have to wait and see where Fujimoto goes with this, I guess.

Wednesday

I’d been picking at it here and there over the past few weeks, but my library loan was quickly running out so I read through The Village of Eight Graves by Seishi Yokomizo in pretty much one sitting. Of the Kousuke Kindaichi stories I’ve read so far (Honjin Murders and Devil’s Flute Murders), I was surprised to find that this was my favourite. The premise didn’t seem to be all that gripping at first, but once I was entrenched in this rural town and watching the murders and paranoia spread throughout the community, I was fully hooked. I saw some reviews complaining about the lack of Kindaichi in this Kindaichi story, but I actually kind of really liked that we were getting the story from the perspective of someone who was deeply involved and had a lot of stakes riding on the situation. It made the mystery feel all the more personal and harrowing – and besides, one of the somewhat frustrating things about the other Kindaichi books was how Kindaichi could never really prevent most of the killings. Obviously he can’t get ahead of the killer before the book ends, but it’s a little sad and frustrating to watch as people drop like flies around him while this “great detective” is helpless to stop them. With Tatsuya as our protagonist, at least, it’s more understandable why he wouldn’t be able to do much, and the emotions run higher because it’s people he cares about/the murders seem to be implicating him specifically. I really liked this setting and its characters, too – there were a lot of them, but they felt distinct enough to me where I could imagine what they looked like and what the broader social web was between them all. I especially liked the female characters, of which there were quite a few who were written really interestingly. I also liked that this mystery wasn’t much of a “puzzle box” mystery as Honjin (because I can never really get the mechanics/geography straight in my mind enough for the solution to be satisfying), and the motives were more compelling than Devil’s Flute to me. And then there’s the added bonus of themes of mob mentality and how people in an insular community govern themselves, and the added spookiness of a curse and the dualities being revealed throughout the town…there was just a lot here that was really up my alley. I would have to think on it (and see what other books I want to buy), but this book has definitely become a strong contender for a book I enjoyed so much that I want to buy a physical copy (the first of its kind in my adult life, I think! So that’s fun). As such, I’ll give it a rating of 8/10.

Thursday

I was so productive I even forgot to watch DunMesh.

Friday

Productive again. Woe is me I’m getting a lot of work done.

Saturday

Went over to my friend’s house and made Italian wedding soup. We didn’t eat it while watching DunMesh, but I just had to let you know that we did a very DunMesh activity. The episode itself was fine, though the timing of everything is a little weird. I know we’re past the days of fiddling with the source material for fear of people yelling at you on Twitter, but it would’ve been nice if the Senshi backstory was all one episode and maybe even the season finale…but now there’s the awkward tonal shift of the deeply moving personal revelation with fun species-switching comedy hijinks. I think they didn’t get a new voice actor for Tallman!Chilchuck so now his voice actor is kind of struggling lol

[artsyjesseblue]

THE TWO ALLURAS

So, here’s a little detective work I did on some (suspected) altered scenes in the last episode of Voltron Legendary Defender. I’m very new to this show (yep, years later… I know… facepalms, better later than never) - I watched it for the first time a couple of months ago and since then I’m obsessed with finding out more about the true finale of the show.

Before I start doing a little slideshow proof of altered animation in S8 last episode, I’d like to give a little intro into my journey here.

- I come from being a fan of an 80’s anime called Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs (my avatar name here pays tribute to one of its characters), to being an even bigger fan of VLD. Not by pure coincidence. SRatSS is owned by WEP, and going down the Netflix “suggested” shows, DotU sent me to VLD. It grew on me really fast. Like binge-watch fast. Unfortunately, the ending completely clipped my wings.

- The first reason why I started feeling (first it was a feeling) that something was wrong was the complete mismatch between the tragic finale of Allura, a goddess leaving the show with the saddest drawn face (and a missing in action Lotor, for that matter) and the super-cheesy optimistic, last minute slapped ending slides showing the ‘successful’ future lives of the Paladins, completely at odds with their previous careers (Keith, a rebellious half-Galra now running a humanitarian relief organization? Lance the sharpshooter with a rake in his hand?? What the heck, man? Shiro, the larger than life figure in the show, marrying some random guy we never learned about before? Seriously, I kept saying at the end: “Is this a joke??” It felt insulting on so many levels, rushed, like “let’s end this and get over with it” )

- Another big reason why I felt this was not supposed to be the real finale was my absolute gut feeling that a kids’ show needs a different kind of moral closure, based on classic arcs that would fit stories I’ve been used to reading in my childhood. After all, it’s rated 7+ . In my opinion, from the perspective of a 7 year old kid, S8 is a horror story, glossed over with a ‘happy’ ending. Thus, it should not be rated 7+. But hey, maybe I’m just too old-fashioned.

- In my frantic googling about VLD, I stumbled upon TeamPurpleLion’s website, which completely opened a new level of information and confirmation for me. The first article I read was the one about the The Dark Youth and Heroine’s Arc, which went straight to my pain point, confirming my intuitions about how a well-written story for children and teens should look like. Then, the ‘Seek Truth’ article about all the animation edits totally solidified my beliefs. Then followed the analysis about the Feud episode, the Clear Day episode and the ‘meta within a meta’ stuff going on there… All the foreshadowing, the purple lion toys, the parallels between different heroes’ arcs… The VLD staff tweets and instagram posts in total contradiction with the release of the season… The last nails that hit the coffin were the interviews with LM and JDS and their own “feud” with the inter-dimensional beings at the top of the ladder, which were absolutely eye-opening. It made total sense now, and I immensely appreciate the work that TPL has done unearthing all these facts. I feel like the EP’s need so much more recognition for the work and love they poured into this show. Not to mention the animation, which is a work. of. art. Studio Mir forever.

- Anyways, here’s me, 4 years later, rocking a boat that has long sailed away… Being so late (I usually am late to a lot of new things haha) I feel like I’m sort of lonely in my quest.

—————

But recently, I found out that the FreeVLDS8 party is still alive and kicking, so I’m emboldened to throw in some of my own discoveries as well. If this stuff has already been unearthed, disregard my little detective work that I did here. But if it’s useful new stuff, I hope it will benefit somehow in the grand puzzle you guys have set about to solve.

In the past couple of months, I’ve read tons of articles and metas, interviews, videos. Pros and cons about the EP’s, about the animation, interviews with actors, tweets, etc etc. All the good stuff piled up in the past 4 years that I completely missed. My head is spinning right now.

So rewatching the last episode and being aware of all the edits discovered so far, I stumbled upon some animation flaws that I believe Studio Mir would not let out their door. Disclaimer: I am a professional artist myself. I do not work in animation, but I did illustrate kids books for a while, and being a graduate of an Art School, I believe I have a bit of knowledge about the laws of perspective, proportions and character design. Keep a pin in each of these three, because there are flaws about every one of them in the next two screencaps. Plus more flaws on top of these three. Whew!

________

Let’s look at a couple of screen shots I did from S8 final episode, when Allura and the Palladins talk to Honerva. Go to the scene where Allura starts saying “there is beauty in their flaws” (first screenshot below - I will call it Screenshot A)

And now take a look, a minute later, when she is doing her mind meld with Honerva (Screenshot B). It’s supposed to be the same scene, but the image is terribly zoomed in, with Lance almost completely cropped out. There is a slight camera tilt effect, but the image remains zoomed with a piece of Lance on the left. Who would do that in cinematography?

So I tried to see what will happen if I “un-zoom” and add Lance back into the picture. I approximated where the original shot was relative to the whole image by keeping Honerva in the center line of the image, to make sense compositionally. And voila (Screenshot B zoomed out below)

Here’s Screenshot A, also zoomed out, below:

Now, in both recreations, Honerva is right in the center. Before, the center of the image was somewhere between Allura and Honerva. Doesn’t it make more sense now, with Honerva in the middle? It makes sense compositionally, but also from a storytelling point of view. We, the watchers are positioned right behind Honerva, at her eye level, seeing the Paladins “through her perspective”. A very empathetic way of making the viewer feel closer to her character.

And now, of course, you’ve all noticed the big red ‘elephant’ in the room, in the newly created space to the right. I am not making any speculations who it might be, because things are actually more complicated than they seem. Wait, Hunk wants to say something:

“Uh, guys, did you notice Pidge next to me looks shorter in B than in A? And what’s up with her not standing up straight in A? Draw a line from her nose to her belt clip. Since she’s facing you full front, it should be vertical, right? Um, well, it’s not.”

Hunk is right. Pidge tilts towards right, she looks like a crooked sticker, plastered on a wall.

———

OK, let’s move on to the next issue. The “Alluras”. Here’s where proportions, character design and perspective come into play. I will call them Allura A and Allura B, from their corresponding screencaptures.

Let’s start with proportions. First, scroll back up to the first two image captures, take a look at them, and then come back and look at this:

I juxtaposed the two Alluras, rescaled so that both of them have the same shoulder width, so X is equal to Y. The desaturated Allura is B, and the colorful one is A.

I placed both of them with their belts at the same horizontal line. Behold, what do we have here? Z is not equal to T, so Allura B has a longer upper body than Allura A. Also, look at the hips, and where the crotch starts.

Now, some of you might argue that this is a perspective distortion, because Allura B is the one that just walked forward a few steps, toward the viewer, so she should grow taller and the proportions might get warped a bit. Well, if it were a forced perspective, from a very close angle, I’d partially agree. But this is not the case. There are tons of forced perspective shots in VLD (especially fight scenes), but this is not one of them. So in this case, if Allura comes forward, she does indeed grow taller, but she should keep her proportions, so X/Z =Y/T (Pidge just confirmed, my math is solid). (and no, please don’t tell me that Allura shapeshifted, just because she’s Altean and decided to do that, without reason).

Moving on to the next issue within the same image above: character design. Compare the two Allura faces… One is round, one is more elongated. Why this sudden transformation, when this is supposed to be one continuous scene? I doubt the studio animators would do something like this. Which one looks more like Allura? I’d argue that the Allura A (the colored one) does. She has a more round, feminine face, with a sweetness in her features. Then who’s that guy in B? Oops, I said guy. Because the whole physical appearance is that of a man. Tall and slim. Wondering who he might be? I’d humbly guess Lotor, but if you find me a more important tall and slim Galra or Altean character that would get access to the Connected Consciousness, then go ahead and write a fanfic story about it.

A little thing I just noticed: Allura B’s neck is crooked, not going up straight from the shoulders into the head. Drawn in a rush? Drawn over Lotor in a rush?

The third issue with the Alluras, and with the other Paladins as well, is perspective. Here’s a little sketch I did over Screenshot B, to understand what I’m talking about:

The horizontal red line is the horizon line. That is the line where our (the viewer’s) eyes are . At the same level with Honerva’s. The vanishing point should be right in the middle of the line. On the right side, in red, I sketched the paladin suits, with their collars as they should look if properly following the laws of perspective. Anything below the horizon line should look like the collar below, anything above should look like the one above, in perspective. Check out which ones match… And then check below if Allura A fairs better:

Indeed she does! And doesn’t she look so natural? Coincidentally, she is Allura A, the real one, not the redrawn Lotor. But oh, wait, Lance, Shiro, and Hunk don’t have correctly drawn collars. What a mess! (this reminds me of Slav saying: did you wear the right socks today?) Let’s play a game: how many of them are wearing the right ‘socks’ in these images?

Again, some of you might say, “c’mon, such a tiny detail, the illustrators and animators probably didn’t even think about this kind of stuff.” Oh no, no, no. This is basic skill. Like, the ABC of drawing. You don’t mess up basic perspective drawing, if this is your daily job. Again, I am convinced that Studio Mir did not release this version. It was altered post production. If I’d have to guess, because this is one of the last animated scenes of the show, they were getting very close to the deadline. They were tired, overworked, most likely dissatisfied that they had to butcher a wonderfully crafted show that everyone worked so hard on. I can even imagine some red-eyed employee with a big cup of coffee, at midnight, in an empty office, tracing over Lotor’s drawing.

Whew, are you ready for another weird flaw?

Look at their eyes. Where is each of them looking, both in A and in B? Well, some of them are looking up, some of them at Honerva. What is up there, that Shiro and Keith seem to watch intently in shot A? Another mishap during animation? Or, they’re just stock images plastered like Pidge? Not sure. Although, at a closer look, Keith in image A is wearing the right socks - his collar is drawn in the right perspective. I’m just speculating, but it seems they’re looking at a tall structure. At that point in the plot, it’s probably Honerva’s mech or Voltron. Who knows.

Honestly, this puzzle is missing so many pieces. Are all these Paladin drawings basically reshuffles of a scene that evolved from us looking down at the Paladins from a higher vantage point (probably Honerva in her mech) and then gradually descending until she is on her knees and we’re looking up at the Paladins? Because judging from the perspective of their collars and the fact that their eyes are either looking up or down, it might seem so. And, as per previous analysis articles, someone said the transition from their fight for realities to them all being in the Connected Consciousness plane looks very abrupt, so there must have been some other action going on there. This seems like the most reshuffled muppet show of the S8, down to the last character on the screen.

Also, a few more things and I promise I’ll wrap up.

If we assume that Allura B was actually Lotor, then it makes sense that Lotor goes and does the little “mind meld” with Honerva (forgive my nerdy Star-Trekky reference). He did say, somewhere in S6, that when the time will come, he might have pity on her. This would beautifully close the circle of that arc, but would also mirror Allura’s mind-meld with Zarkon, when she did her little trip into Honerva’s mind, I can’t remember which episode. This would also not look cheap at all, because right before the mind meld, after each Paladin does their own plea, Honerva says: “You think your words mean anything to me?” No, their words don’t, but Lotor’s words and touch DO. And knowing how vitriolic she can be, I bet she won’t accept Allura touching her so easily, but coming from her son… I bet she would. She looks surprised and not irritated at all. Would she be like that with Allura, after she just fought them almost to death and told them that their words mean nothing to her? But Lotor touching his mother, it makes more sense, doesn’t it? The wayward daughter of Altea heals the father, and the lost son of Daibazaal heals the mother. How beautiful. Psychology at its best. Oh, but these are just my speculations…

I’m not sure if Allura’s VA was called to record more lines back in 2018. If she was, then the lines she said about Lotor who may have been misguided but ultimately wanted to preserve life might be just a way through which the creators left the door a little open to interpretation about Lotor. But if that was the actual original, unaltered line, then Allura is talking about him in the past tense. So then… was the Lotor behind Allura B just a ghost, like Zarkon and the old Paladins in the other episodes? So, just a supposition, completely unsupported by any palpable facts, but it’s fun to explore: Lotor lost his body, but Allura rescued and redeemed his consciousness, not from the Sincline, but actually from Honerva’s mind (I’ll explain in just a sec); and then together they fight through all realities and defeat Honerva. And then Allura rejoins him in the afterlife. And this is the end of a coherent story. If I remember correctly from a previous episode, when we saw Honerva standing in front of Lotor’s melted corpse (which makes no sense to throw in there from a narrative standpoint unless something else happens further along), didn’t she say something like “soon, we’ll be together, my son”. What was that all about? Did she actually trap his consciousness into her own mind like she did with the old paladins? Was that her possessive way of being “together” with someone? And then Allura goes on and frees him from the trap and THAT’S when Honerva goes ballistic looking for another Lotor in another reality, because she lost the object of her obsession. And that would explain why they ended up in the Connected Consciousness in the last episode, to heal her of her vicious possessiveness. Just a weird thought, I might be completely wrong.

If anyone has the patience to untangle who is who and who goes where in these two images, go on, give it a shot. I know I’m too tired. But nevertheless, have fun!

I noticed these glitches but wasn’t convinced that anyone is still out there to read my ramblings, after so many years. Now I believe there are still people that care, so I decided to go forward with my little analysis.

Thank you @leakinghate for relighting the flame of the FreeVLDS8 in 2022. Wishing TeamPurpleLion all the best in their new effort! It means so much to me, especially coming in as a fresh fan of VLD.

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Six

We’re baaaaaack!

Thank y’all for being so patient! I’m really excited for you to read this one <3

Characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove

@donttouchmycarrots is forever my hero for proofreading, dealing with way too much of my own self-doubt, and being the best friend anyone could ask for. My dude, my pal, my babe! I love you more than words can say. <3

Clandestine Masterlist

.

Previously:

Logan was still biting back a smile when someone slid into the seat next to him. His smile faded instantly. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, not right now. And especially not a Snake. The night only got worse when he looked over to the newcomer to face eerie, yellow eyes. He froze, unsure whether to stand his ground or run as fast as he possibly could.

“Enjoying the party?” Riddle asked coolly, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand.

Logan couldn’t decide if the better plan of action was to hold his ground or to run. He stared into creepy, soulless eyes, frozen in place. The voices over his comms and the music of the band faded out to white noise, leaving him to face down Riddle alone.

“Mr. Riddle.” He finally managed to say, keeping his voice even and taking a sip of his drink. “This is a nice party you’ve got here.”

“Thank you. It’s been a long time coming.” Detached, sunken-in eyes regarded him coolly. “I don’t think I've seen you around before.”

“I’m a reporter,” Logan relayed their cover story without hesitation. “Just here getting information for an article I’m writing.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.” Riddle said. There was nothing inherently dangerous about his words. His posture was completely relaxed, his tone even and calm. If Logan didn’t already know his face, he wouldn’t think twice about him if he passed him on the street or saw him in a store. It was eerie how someone with so much blood on their hands could act so… normal. As if he’d done nothing wrong.

Logan itched to take him down. His concealed gun seemed to burn a hole into his dress shirt. He could do it. One quick, well-placed shot and he could end this. He wouldn’t make it out the door and countless gang members would get away, but Riddle was right in front of him. It would be so easy.

“Now, what kind of reporter do you take me for?” He asked instead, pushing the thoughts down. They could get him later when he had an actual plan and backup. As much as he wanted to, this wasn’t the time or place.

Riddle hummed in thought. “You know, I’m not really sure. An unprepared one, I suppose. I don’t see you writing anything down.”

Logan, although his blood had just turned to ice in his veins, had just opened his mouth to lie about a recording device in his pocket when a new voice cut in.

“There you are!”

Logan’s shoulders tensed at the all-too-familiar accent and he turned, his heart plummeting like a stone in his chest, to see Leo standing there. Tall and bright and too precious to be staring danger in the face like this.

“I should’ve known you’d be here.” Leo teased, looking over at Riddle and brazenly greeting him with a fake smile. “Riddle.”

Riddle glanced between the two of them, as unflappable as ever. “Your boyfriend?”

“Coworker.” Logan quickly corrected, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the misconstruction and sending Leo a warning look. “A coworker who won’t leave me alone tonight, apparently.”

Please take the hint, Nutty. He silently begged. Get the fuck out of here.

Leo shrugged, absolutely remorseless, that little shit. “Well, I’ve got some questions for you. You know this is my first big article and I want to make sure I’ve got all the information I need.”

Oh. Now Logan understood. Leo wasn’t vying for a way to get the flash drive he knew Riddle kept on him, he was trying to get Logan out of there. Before this moment, Logan had never thought of Leo as an intimidating person. Sure, he was big, but he was also soft and gentle and kind. Looking at him now, though, there was this glint in his eyes, this undercurrent of danger that Logan quickly recognized as protectiveness. And frankly, it was a little terrifying.

Was that how people viewed Logan on a regular basis?

Not having time to think too hard on that, Logan nodded. “Sure, I’ll help you out.” He set his unfinished drink on the counter and nodded at Riddle. “Enjoy the rest of your party, and congratulations on the twenty-five years of your organization.”

Riddle seemed to intuitively know something was going on, but he also didn’t particularly seem to care. He was well aware that no one could touch him, especially not at this party. And not without a substantial amount of evidence, which they still didn’t have. Not yet, at least. But Logan couldn’t wait for the day when he got what was coming for him.

He followed Leo across the ballroom without another word to one of the side doors – their planned meeting spot in case things went south – where Finn was waiting, shuffling on his feet and looking a little like he was going to be sick. The tension he was carrying in his posture seemed to ease when he caught sight of them and there wasn’t even a split-second of hesitation before he was herding them out the door, down the lavishly decorated entryway, and towards one of the taxis waiting out front. Logan noticed the way his hands shook as he opened the car door for the two of them, glancing over his shoulder before ducking into the back seat with his partners. Logan wanted nothing more than to reach over and grab hold, to settle those tremors with his own steady hands, but they still weren’t safe yet. Who knew who could be listening in at that moment.

The ride back to the hotel was stilted and hushed and more than a little shell-shocked as they processed the events of the night. They’d been in a den of vipers that were capable of horrific things and they’d somehow managed to get out unscathed, plus they had one more flash drive to add to their growing collection. It almost didn’t feel real.

However, the longer Logan sat in that taxi, the angrier he got. And that definitely felt real. What the hell was Leo thinking, running headfirst into danger like that? Of all the people on this mission, Logan was the most capable of taking care of himself in tense situations like that. Leo had been brash and thoughtless and risky - acting like a true rookie - but Logan couldn’t exactly chew him out in the back of a taxi, so he sat there and fumed. He was sure it was written all over his face for anyone to see, but he no longer cared.

The taxi parked outside their hotel. They paid the driver in silence. They got out in silence. They rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence. They unlocked their door in silence.

And then the dam broke and a tidal wave crashed over it, loud and roaring and livid.

Logan whirled on Leo, not even caring that their door was still open. “Don’t you ever pull something like that again. I had it covered.” He hissed, yanking his earpiece out with one hand and jabbing Leo in the chest with his finger. He hoped the single point of contact it bruised from the force he put behind the motion.

Leo wasn’t backing down easily, though. He stood to his full height and loomed over Logan, anger radiating off him in waves. Apparently he’d been seething in the taxi, as well. “You’d do the same thing if it were me. Why is it ok for you to do it but wrong when the roles are reversed?” He demanded, letting the door slam behind him. Logan saw Finn flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s me, I’m just a grunt. We lose you, we lose our chance to take down the Snakes.” He said the words plainly, cut-and-dry. He knew his place on this mission, and it wasn’t the most critical. He could live with that fact. What he couldn’t live with was losing either of them.

This was exactly why he’d wanted to get off this mission and take another job. If this was what the rest of the op was going to be like, constantly stressing over the two of them but still having to painfully distance himself, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

All the fight seemed to leave Leo in an instant at Logan’s words. He stared down at him with a furrowed brow and wide, sad eyes. “You can’t believe that.”

Logan was left reeling by the sudden change of pace, the rough waves flattening out to a calm sea in the blink of an eye. He just shrugged as he tried to formulate any kind of response. He wasn’t sure what Leo wanted him to say so he just stood there and stared at him, completely at a loss.

Finn cut Leo off as he started to speak, looking firmly between the two as he loosened his tie – still crooked, even after all this time. “Enough. Both of you. Leo, you were out of line. Logan had it handled. I know you meant well, but you know the code word if we need help, so let him do his job instead of prematurely rushing in to be the hero. Logan, if I hear you talk about yourself like that again – well, I’m not actually sure what I’ll do. But it won’t be pretty.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the closet, haphazardly kicking his shoes off and pushing them with his foot until they were snug against the wall and out of the way.

“We need to talk about tomorrow.” He continued curtly as he rapidly started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“What’s tomorrow?” Leo asked from his perch on the bed as he toyed with the laces of one shoe. Logan followed their lead and started getting ready for bed. His head shot up at Finn’s next words, though.

“My date with June.”

“Who?” He asked, although he knew full-well who she was. He just wanted to be contrary. He knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to pretend to be indifferent to the idea of Finn going on a date with a near stranger, so this was his next best option.

Finn took it in stride, though, not even blinking an eye as he headed for the bathroom. Logan could hear the sink running a second later. “She’s the one setting up my meeting with Lestrange. We’re going to a coffee shop down the street in the morning.”

Leo, clad in the most ridiculous pair of Cookie Monster pajama pants that were too short for him, crawled into bed and shimmied over to be in the middle. Logan felt any residual anger dissipate at the sight. What a dork.

“Do Loops and Sirius know about this?” Leo asked as he fought back a yawn.

Finn poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth and managed to get out a garbled ‘yeah’ before disappearing again. Water could be heard running again, then the light flicked off. The redhead checked to make sure both partners were in bed before turning off the main lights and blindly stumbling his way towards the bed.

“Sirius heard everything, gave me the all clear. Loops was…” Finn trailed off into silence, dampening the mood again as they thought of their coworker.

“Yeah.” Leo said quietly, shifting from his back to his side to give Finn more room. Logan could just barely make out his face through the shadows, illuminated faintly in yellow by the lights of the parking lot outside their window.

“We’ll come with you.” Logan was saying before he realized just what that entailed. “Neither of us met her at the gala, so we can hide out in the corner of the shop or something and keep an eye on you.”

Finn snorted half-heartedly. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“We’re not taking any chances with these guys, and you know it.” Logan rebutted, leaving no room for argument. “You’ve got an alarm set?”

“Mmmhmm.” Came the sleepy, mumbled reply. Logan smiled, not bothering to hide the affection on his face. The shadows did that for him. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Get some sleep, then. We can go over details in the morning.”

The only response he got was slow, even breathing.

***

Remus felt one of the couch cushions sag next to him as Sirius sat down, the old wooden supports creaking a little under their combined weight. He turned his distracted gaze from the miraculously revived plant on the windowsill to the man beside him when he felt a gentle nudge against his arm. There Sirius sat, gray eyes calm and free of pity – thank god. Remus wasn’t sure he could deal with people being sorry for him anymore. In his hands was a cup of tea, steam swirling over the brim and disappearing into the air. Remus huffed out a faint laugh, all he could muster at the moment, and gave Sirius a dubious look.

“I only added, like, a spoonful of honey this time. That’s it.” Sirius vowed, holding the cup farther out for Remus to take. He grabbed it, warmth finally reaching poorly-circulated fingers, and took in the faint smell of apple.

“Thanks.” He murmured before taking a cautious sip. The tea hadn’t been steeped for long enough, but at least this one was drinkable. Sirius, who was eagerly awaiting his verdict, seemed to glean all the information he needed from Remus’ face. He smiled and relaxed back into the couch, looking extremely proud of himself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Remus said as he took another sip. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about brewing tea.”

“Well, I've got a good teacher.” The combination of the words and the tea infused Remus with warmth, and he finally smiled for the first time that night. Sirius seemed to slump further into the cushions, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Remus peered over the top of his teacup at wild black curls and just a hint of a five-o-clock shadow dusting across pale skin and figured he should get rid of the elephant in the room. He hated to ruin the peacefulness of the moment and there was nothing he wanted less than to bring up this conversation, but he felt like it had to be said.

“So about earlier-”

Sirius was quick to cut him off, which grated on Remus’ nerves. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just wanted to apologize. And to say thank you.” He looked down at the cup in his hands and forced himself to continue. “As a handler, I’m supposed to be able to keep my emotions in check and focus on the job. But every single time someone brings him up…” Remus shrugged, fingers itching to reach up and clutch at his shoulder as feral eyes and a gnarled smile haunted his mind’s eye. He gripped his tea tighter instead, hoping it would hide the tremors in his hands. “Seeing him in pictures is one thing. Hearing his voice in real time and knowing he’s right there, I just – I freaked out.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” Sirius said, then winced. “Sorry. I, uh, I read the report. And judging by your face you don’t want to talk about it, which is fine.” He rushed to say and then sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Wow, I’m bad at this. I’m just – I’m here for you, ok? In whatever way you need.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile at his awkward attempt at comfort. He wasn’t exactly good with words, but Remus would give just about anything for one of those hugs right then. He took a sip of tea instead. “Right back at you.”

Sirius flashed a warm, albeit surprised smile in return. They sat like that in companionable silence for a while, Remus drinking his tea and Sirius sprawled out on the couch, kicking one foot in a varying rhythm. It was odd for Remus to think about, even though Sirius had shown up months ago. He technically had a criminal living with him. He never thought he’d be happy about that fact. But here he was, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and get to know every different facet of this ex-Snake. What made him tick, what kept him up at night, what he dreamed about when he finally went to sleep.

But at the end of the day, what difference would that make? Sirius had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t sticking around when this mission was over. Remus wasn’t about to go and get more attached when the outcome wasn’t going to change. Remus would be left alone, again, dropped right back into his old life as if nothing had ever happened. Back to his small apartment with his dying houseplant, scrambling around in the mornings to get a cup of tea before work, sitting on the ratty couch and suffocating in the silence and loneliness. Sirius entered his life like a fog rolling in on a dark night, and he would leave the same way – without a trace.

***

Logan was drumming his fingers on the tabletop as Leo sat down across from him, cups of coffee in hand. The line of impatient customers inside the coffee shop was long due to the morning rush, but most of the tables were deserted. Logan had his back to the wall and full view of the rest of the shop, ready to keep an eye on Finn and his new friend as soon as they got there.

He tried his hardest to ignore the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the thought. This wasn’t going to be fun.

A hand covered his on the table, stopping his frantic drumming. Logan looked up into a steady blue gaze with depths that seemed to know exactly how he was feeling. He almost seemed to empathize with Logan, and that made him pause. He thought back to the very beginning of all this and focused on his partners’ interactions – cinnamon muffins and fingers brushing as Finn handed one to Leo, Leo sprawled out in the backseat after his first heist with Finn smiling back at him from the passenger’s seat, Leo worriedly staring at the bruise blooming across Finn’s cheek, the looks on their faces as they danced to a slow song.

Oh.

Logan had just opened his mouth to ask Leo about it when the bell on the shop door sounded, signaling the arrival of new customers. He looked up from his caramel mocha and his gaze flickered. “They’re here.”

Sure enough, Finn and June were making their way to the counter, deep in conversation. June said something to make Finn laugh, and Leo’s shoulders tensed at the sound. He took a calm, measured drink of his coffee and didn’t look over his shoulder at their partner. Logan was looking similarly miserable across the table from him, swirling the contents of his cup dejectedly.

“We’re really bad at this.” Leo stated plainly. Logan’s eyes shot up to meet his and he let out a surprised laugh, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, we are.” Logan responded, eyes flitting from the partner directly in front of him to the one still in line, then back again. Leo seemed to belong in coffee shops, all golden and warm and comfortable. Sunlight from the large front windows illuminated him from the back, making him seem to glow like some mystical faerie. Normally, Logan wasn’t a fan of mornings but if this – not the spying, per se, but the sleepy jokes over coffee cups and the soft smiles and the calm assuredness that always seemed to surround Leo – was the result of getting up early, he’d get up at the crack of dawn for the rest of his life.

A glint of dark copper caught his eye and he looked over Leo’s shoulder to see Finn sit down at one of the empty tables, pushing a coffee cup over to June. She smiled and wrapped both hands around it, looking up at Finn with a smile.

Logan had been shot before. Multiple times. And stabbed, and punched more times than he could count. There was once an incident involving barbed wire (don’t ask). But watching Finn with this girl he’d just met last night, smiling and flirting and seeming to be over the moon, was a new kind of torture. And all Logan could do was sit there and watch.

His eyes snapped back to Leo, who was already watching him with a steady, pensive look. “Need a distraction?” He asked simply. Logan appreciated that. He wasn’t forcing Logan to face his thoughts or – god forbid – talk about them. He let Logan have his space to decide how he wanted to move forward, to process these overwhelming feelings in his own time.

“Please.” Logan managed to get out, pushing his unfinished coffee away from him. So Leo talked. He told stories about his childhood, how he grew up, how he got into pick-pocketing and how he got caught doing it by his Mama. Logan kept a watchful eye on Finn, making sure he was safe, and let Leo’s stories wash over him, calm and steadying. It was a bit of a strange juxtaposition, the soft voice warring with the potential of being in danger, but it soothed him all the same.

Finn was enjoying himself. June was awesome, and she had a lot of insight on Lestrange and the Snakes, although it was clear she despised them. He wasn’t sure how she got tangled up in this mess, but he hoped he could get her out of there when they finally took the gang down. But as fantastic as June was, he couldn’t keep himself from bouncing his leg under the table or sneaking surreptitious glances at the far corner of the room, where a blond and a brunet were leaning towards each other across the table. Logan smiled at something Leo said, nose scrunching as Leo gesticulated wildly about whatever he was saying. Finn so desperately wanted to be there with them, to tease Leo for the story he was telling and to kiss the laugh on Logan’s lips. He looked away quickly when green eyes met his and tried his best to refocus on June.

She gave him a knowing look, then glanced at his partners. “You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you?” 

Finn froze, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, then sighed and gave up. This was June. And they’d only just met the night before, but Finn knew how to read people. It was literally his job. She wasn’t going to tell anyone. “Something like that. It’s complicated.”

She smiled. “Does it need to be complicated, or are you just making it that way?”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a hint of hysteria sprinkled in. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“But you want that.” She said, jerking her head towards Logan and Leo. For a split-second, Finn thought she knew that he wanted them in particular, but then she continued. “Being able to be with the person you love, out in the open, with no obstacles in your way.”

If only she knew how spot-on that statement was.

“Yeah,” Finn said quietly, wistfully. “I really do.”

He watched as Logan grabbed one of Leo’s moving hands, narrowly keeping him from spilling one of the mugs on their table. Logan’s posture showed exasperation, but his eyes... his eyes told a completely different story.

Finn spoke again, more to himself than to June. It was a vow, a hope, a rose-tinted dream of the future. “Maybe someday.”

***

Logan wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after what felt like way too long – who stayed at a coffee shop this long, anyways? – Finn and June seemed to be wrapping things up. They returned their mugs to the front counter and headed towards the door, but not without Finn glancing over his shoulder at his partners, an indecipherable expression on his face as he stepped out into the sun.

“They’re headed out now.” Logan stated, looking back to Leo. “Want to get back to the hotel?”

Leo gathered their mugs and got to his feet. “How about a walk first? We could be tourists for a while, see the sights.”

“It’s a big city, Nut. They all look the same.” Logan flashed a smile of thanks at the barista working the counter as Leo passed over their mugs. They stepped outside into the cool morning air and got hit by the sound of traffic echoing from the streets to the tall buildings around them. Logan sent Leo an ‘I told you so’ look, but still followed after him as he walked in the opposite direction of the hotel.

They ended up wandering around the streets of downtown Slytherin for about an hour, getting very lost (“don’t tell Finn”), and giving up. Even then, it was fun. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no ticking clock, no pressure, no imminent danger. It was simple, it was easy. Their own little adventure without the stress. Logan eventually had to fish out his phone to pull up directions back to the hotel, doing a full one-eighty in order to start going the right direction. The app led them through several back alleys and side roads, which made Logan a little uneasy. Leo didn’t seem to mind.

“I wonder if the Chopped marathon is still on TV.” Leo mused absentmindedly as he dodged a trashcan obscuring the alleyway. Logan laughed and bump his shoulder into Leo’s as they walked side by side.

“You’re something else, Nutty.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Leo said, unconsciously slowing to a stop. Logan followed suit, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes drifting from Leo’s eyes to his lips, then back again. “It is.”

Leo met his steady green gaze, much closer than he was used to. This was normally where Leo would hesitate. There would be a moment, a flicker of interest, and Leo would freeze. There were usually so many things racing through his mind and he would overthink everything and then the moment would be over.

He didn’t give himself the chance to do that this time.

Leo stepped forward to stand toe-to-toe with Logan, his thumb gently tracing those lips that had plagued his thoughts so many times before until he couldn’t help but swoop down to finally kiss him decisively, leaving no room for uncertainty or backtracking. He was done hesitating – he was going after what he wanted for once. And oh, how he wanted this. Judging from the way Logan pulled him that much closer so that Leo could feel his chest pressed against his and how he tilted his chin up to kiss him back, he wanted this, too. A hand reached up to tangle in Leo’s hair and tugged slightly to pull Leo down more, closer to Logan’s level. He smiled into the kiss, racing thoughts being replaced by the taste of caramel, the feel of slightly-chapped lips against his, and the little unknown intricacies that made up kissing Logan – the way his breath hitched and the consequential sigh after the fact, the soft sounds he made as if he simply couldn’t get enough. Kissing Logan wasn’t anything like he thought it would be; it wasn’t showstopping, or earth-shattering, or mind-melting. But it was warm. And everyone knew Leo was always cold.

“Leo,” Logan mumbled an undiscernible amount of time later, barely pausing between one kiss and the next. Not Nutty, or Nut, or any other variation of his nickname. Leo. There was something so personal, so intimate about the way Logan said his name, the way it rumbled in his chest and got muffled against Leo’s lips. Leo shivered.

“Hmm?” He asked, refusing to move away until Logan did. Even then he chased after him for a split second… until he saw the look on Logan’s face. Brow furrowed, face closed off. Leo was used to seeing that expression when Logan was avoiding his feelings for Finn, but he’d never really seen that look directed at him.

“We shouldn’t.” Logan’s voice was quiet and full of regret, and that only made Leo’s heart drop more.

Leo looked down at his own hands, still fisted in Logan’s jacket. He couldn’t bring himself to move them, ingraining the closeness and warmth to his memory. “I get that the timing is bad – like really bad, oh my god. But I’m not imagining this, right? I know I’m new to the whole espionage thing, but there’s no way I’m making this up.”

Please tell me I’m not making this up. He thought desperately.

“No,” Logan said forcefully, reaching up to tilt Leo’s chin up to meet his eyes again. “No, you aren’t making this up. But we are in the middle of a mission. And then there’s-” He stopped short with a grimace. And if Leo thought it was complicated already, he was worried that this was where it would get even more intricate.

“Finn.” Leo finished for him, watching his eyes widen. He took several steps backward, forcing Leo to finally relinquish his hold.

“You know?” His voice wavered, but his eyes were intense. He reached for Leo again, grabbing his cold hand and gripping it tightly, as if trying to instill his conviction through the touch alone. “That doesn’t mean I care about you any less, Leo, you’ve got to understand that. It’s just-”

“I know.” Leo took a deep breath, squeezed Logan’s hand, then pressed on. “Me too. I like Finn, too.” He laughed a little at the grin that blossomed across the brunet’s face. “I thought I was being so obvious about it.”

Logan stepped closer again, eyes alight with unbridled excitement. “Are you kidding? I literally wanted to kiss him so badly that I used it as a means to get us arrested.”

Leo groaned, but was smiling all the same. There was something so cathartic about finally being able to talk about this after keeping it all bottled up for months. And Logan felt the same way? Leo was giddy with the realization. “You have no idea what that did to me.”

Logan grinned, looking lighter than he had in a long time. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who cuddled with him all night last night.”

“Unintentional,” Leo said with a shrug as he gently combed through brown hair, watching fondly as Logan eagerly leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. He was like an over-grown cat, and Leo couldn’t get enough of it. “But definitely a highlight of this trip.”

The grin dimmed a little. “What are we going to tell him?”

Leo paused, mulling it over. “The truth? The timing is still bad, but we’re spies.” Leo looked down at their joined hands and traced a thin, silvery scar on the back of Logan’s hand. He wondered what it was from. “Will there ever be a good time?”

Logan hummed, but stayed silent. It was like he knew Leo had more to say, but was still thinking of the right way to phrase it. Leo felt himself fall just a little bit more. It wasn’t love – not yet – but damn if it wasn’t close.

“I’m tired of waiting, aren’t you?” Leo finally asked, meeting green eyes again. “Just sitting there with all those feelings and not being able to act on them. If he feels the same way, that’s great! And if he doesn’t, then yeah it’ll hurt and it might be a little awkward, but at least we can move on. I don’t think that’ll be the case, though.” Leo ruffled that thick brown hair. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Leo, he’s a conman. One of his main jobs is to act.”

“Sweetheart, there is no universe where the way he kissed you could be an act.”

Logan smiled faintly, seeming a little lost in thought. Leo was pretty sure he knew what he was thinking about. He tugged on Logan’s hand, finally getting them to start walking through the alley again; he’d kind of forgotten they were still standing there. His vision had narrowed down to the spy walking by his side and nothing else.

“He likes you too, you know.” Logan said after a few minutes, swinging their joined hands as they walked. It was unfairly adorable. “I think we should at least wait until after we get the drive from Lestrange to talk to him, though. We all need to be on our A game for that.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah, that’s going to be a nightmare.” Even the thought of dealing with the Snake made Leo’s skin prickle.

“We’ll be fine.” Logan reassured as they reached the hotel, getting blasted by welcome warmth as they entered the lobby. “We’ve come this far.”

And I have a feeling the worst is yet to come. Leo thought, but kept his mouth shut and followed Logan to the stairwell, choosing instead to say, “I’m surprised you’re willingly taking the stairs-” he stopped short with a laugh as Logan forcibly backed him up against the wall, staring into the depths of those green eyes.

“Not as many people take the stairs.” Logan mumbled, tilting his head to place a kiss to the hollow of Leo’s throat, then another, then another. Leo arched his neck to give the brunet better access and smiled up at the flight of stairs ascending over their heads. He felt like he was floating right along beside them.

“Including you.”

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me when all I want to do is make out with you.” Logan grumbled in between kisses, punctuating his complaint with a nip at Leo’s pulse point. The blond hummed happily, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“I’m willing to negotiate.” He said, running a hand through Logan’s hair again and getting the same response as before. Leo mulled it over for a few seconds then tugged experimentally, causing Logan to groan and lean back to meet Leo’s eyes, pupils blown wide.

“Persuade me.” Leo stated simply, a wicked glint to his sweet smile.

And Logan, after a long string of inarticulate French, did.

***

Later that night, after calling Loops and relaying the details of their meet-up with June and their plans for Lestrange, Finn heard the gentle clicking noise of a lock being picked from beside him and smiled at the nature documentary playing on the cheap hotel TV. It was a cute habit. The clicking used to drive Finn up a wall, but now he found it strangely reassuring. It meant Leo was nearby. It meant calm, it meant steadiness.

He turned the volume on the TV down and turned to face the blond, watching the light bounce off of blond hair and a sweet profile. Leo seemed to notice eyes on him and looked up from the small lock in his hands, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

“Can you teach me?” Finn asked, motioning to the lock.

Leo stopped fiddling his fingers. “To pick a lock?”

“Why not? Seems like a good trick to learn.” Finn held his hand out and wiggled his fingers at Leo, who shrugged and handed the lock over.

“He’s going to be so bad at this.” Logan predicted, not taking his eyes off the TV. Finn scoffed and punched him in the arm.

“Rude.” Finn groused as he spun the dial on the lock and looked back to Leo. “Teach away, Nutter Butter!”

Leo scooted over on the bed to get closer to Finn, thighs brushing and a warm weight against Finn’s shoulder. He looked over at Leo as he spoke, getting hit with a sudden flare of wistfulness. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

“Ok. So this lock has a possible of 64,000 different combinations-”

“Holy shit.” Logan whistled lowly with a quick look over at them. His posture was completely relaxed - unusual for the fighter. His normally sharp, attentive gaze was sleepy and calm. It absolutely melted Finn's heart. He wanted this for the rest of his life, too.

“It’s not too bad once you’ve got the basics down.” Leo reassured, tapping on the curved handle at the top. “This right here is the shackle. You’re going to apply pressure to it while you turn the dial counterclockwise – no,” Leo laughed and put a hand over Finn’s as he turned the dial, slowing down the redhead’s movement. “Slowly. You’ve got to be able to feel the sticking points.”

“Sticking points?” Finn asked, hyperaware of the feeling of gentle fingers against his. He was far more interested in watching he blond as he demonstrated instead of actually paying attention to what he was doing.

“There’s going to be points where the dial jams and you won’t be able to freely rotate it anymore.” Leo explained, watching as Finn moved the dial at a much slower pace. “Sometimes the sticking point is between two numbers and then you have a sticking range, which complicates things.”

“It gets more complicated?”

Leo just laughed, stretching his long legs out on the bed and relaxing back against the headboard. “Just wait until we get to the math.”

“There’s math?”

Logan watched the two of them with a smile, picturing day after day of moments just like this – enough to make up an entire lifetime. He knew their lives would always be complicated; the three of them had found themselves intertwined in an elaborate tangle of threads that bound them all together, and Logan wasn’t sure they could separate themselves even if they tried. That was fine with him. It was messy and difficult and convoluted, but so many of the good things in life always were.

Logan was never one to back down from a challenge, anyways.

[calaofnoldor]

Dean, Don’t

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 1,906

Summary: You’re heavily pregnant and highly irritable. Luckily, Sam Winchester is the sweetest moose to ever moose.

Warnings: pregnancy (and all its related symptoms), ill-fated attempt at humor, disgustingly sweet fluff (seriously, you’re gonna need a tooth brush)

A/N: this might be my first ever attempt at this genre, so please don’t judge me too harshly :)

MASTERLIST

“Wow… geez, you look ready to-“

“Dean,” Sam shot his brother a warning glance as he guided you into the kitchen, a giant palm held gently against your aching lower back, “Don’t.”

Dean quickly raised his hands and the gesture, together with his wide eyes, seemed to say ‘I wasn’t gonna say anything!’, although you knew that was far from the truth. In fact, you knew exactly what he was thinking because you’d been thinking it too – every hour of every day. It was safe to say you really didn’t need any reminders of your current condition.

“Y/N’s already having a rough time with the twins keeping her up all night, and she’s been extra sore lately,” your moose came to your rescue as always. Sam had been doing that a lot recently, not only by shielding you from Dean’s crude comments (and consequently protecting Dean from your wrath as well), but also by comforting and distracting you from the woes of your third trimester.

“Well at least it’ll be over soon, right?” Dean tried again.

“Not soon enough,” you grumbled in reply, before attempting to stretch out your spine with an unfiltered groan of discomfort.

“Aaand, that’s my cue to leave!” Dean announced, grabbing his plate of bacon to go and sauntering off, though not before sending his little brother an exaggerated ‘good-luck-with-that’ expression.

Sam rolled his eyes despite feeling somewhat relieved by his brother’s departure, then turned back to you. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you off your feet.” He wore a sweet sympathetic smile; it was one he had been donning often as of late, but it only worsened your mood.

“Sam, I’m fine. I can’t be constantly sitting or lying down!” You barked irritably, but when you noticed the sad puppy dog look on your boyfriend’s face, your attitude instantly withered.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just hate this so much.” Your fingers began to massage your temples as your mouth continued to utter the words that took you beyond the point of no return, “I’m a hunter, you know? I’m supposed to be able to take down monsters with the swing of my machete! I used to be able to roundhouse kick those inhuman bastards when I wanted to, and now I can’t even put my own socks on!” That much was true. Sam had helped you with your socks earlier that morning.

“And sometimes you being so overprotective only makes me feel more useless,” you added with a defeated huff.

Sam waited patiently until he was certain your little tirade was over. “I know exactly what you’re capable of, Y/N; you never have to remind me. And I can guarantee that you will still be able to do all those things… after you’ve given birth to our beautiful babies, and your body recovers from this drastic change it’s endured.”

He moved closer to you and extended one hand to caress the side of your face, while the other splayed across your immensely swollen stomach. “But baby, right now, at 39 weeks pregnant with twins, you’re not supposed to be able to do all that. I wouldn’t want you to be doing all that,” he chuckled lightly with the afterthought as he pictured your heavily expectant form attempting one of your famous round house kicks.

You raised a brow at him, knowing how his mind worked, and he immediately sobered, “Y/N, my point is you don’t realize how incredibly strong you are already, even without all the pregnant kung fu fighting you seem to be so keen on.”

Although you were tempted to roll your eyes at his teasing, the boyish grin he cast you couldn’t be resisted, and the corners of your lips begrudgingly lifted. But a sudden lurch in your belly wiped the smile promptly from your features.

“Oh,” you breathed in a gasp, placing your hands upon the area of assault.

“What? What is it?” Sam questioned worriedly, as he too moved both his hands to your baby bump. His eyes flickered frantically between your face and stomach, trying to read the situation for himself.

“Nothing, just a really strong kick, I think,” was your reply after a pause. You looked up at him with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. He returned it with a certain tinge of apprehension, so you grabbed his hand and placed it where one of your wayward twins was moving erratically within you.

No matter how many times Sam felt it, he couldn’t help but beam with pride and elation at the thought of his children growing stronger each day, and the fact that you were the one fostering their development made him truly believe he was the luckiest man alive in that moment.

“Wow, I guess they’re really ready to come out, huh?”

“Maybe,” you mused, “Or maybe they’ll choose to torture me for another week. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Still fondling your belly with one hand, Sam used his other to turn your face towards his. “I am really sorry that you’re hurting. I wish I could make it stop.” He said it with such sincerity, you were almost inclined to forgive him. Almost.

“I would say ‘it’s not your fault’, but it kinda is,” came your playful response, which happily earned you a loving kiss.

When his lips left yours, you continued, “Also, as if the fact that two of your swimmers managed to make it to my eggs wasn’t enough, did you really have to make both of them Winchester-sized too?” You motioned vaguely to the wide expanse of your front side.

Sam said nothing, but rewarded you with a hearty laugh and a second kiss.

Later that day, as you sat snuggled between Sam’s lengthy and outstretched limbs on the bed, the two of you absent-mindedly watched an old classic movie play out on the television. His lips grazed your hairline every few minutes and his hands rubbed incessant circles on your extended stomach.

“How do you know our babies will be beautiful?” You questioned Sam abruptly, your eyes never leaving the screen.

His chest rumbled with a deep chortle that resonated through your back and caused you to smile in turn. “Well, they’ve got you for a mother, don’t they?”

“Psh! You forgot to mention that they’ve also got a father who looks like he was sculpted by the Greek gods! But that’s not the point; genetics is based on chance.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes.

“Fine. I just have a feeling then, OK?” Sam shut you up with a quick kiss to the lips and you of course assented.

“Do you still think they’re going to be girls?”

“I hope so,” he replied with a pensive smile.

You studied his elegant features for a minute before feeling a smirk form on your own face. “Well too bad, they’re both boys.”

“What? How do you know?” Sam’s brow furrowed in that way you always thought made him look unbelievably adorable, especially for a man of his stature.

“I just have a feeling, OK?” You quoted back at him. “They call it mother’s intuition.”

Sam’s grin returned and you couldn’t remember feeling better in the past month. Dean hadn’t disturbed you all day since the incident in the kitchen, and the support of Sam’s solid torso pressed against your back seemed to be alleviating some of the strain from your body.

But alas, nothing is ever what it seems when you’re living with the Winchesters. A sudden splash of fluid upon the sheets interrupted your scarce and apparently fleeting moment of peace.

It took you a moment to register the wetness between your legs, although Sam was already one step ahead of you. “DEAN!” he hollered towards the hall.

“Sam, I think my water just broke,” you told him in a slight trance.

“Yeah, I know, baby. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and changed.” Sam’s voice was soothing and you began to follow his lead, slowly rising to your feet as he supported you from behind.

Just then, Dean came barreling in, brandishing his gun as his eyes searched frantically for any potential sources of peril. His green gaze turned befuddled upon finding no clear cause for distress.

“Dean, go get the Impala ready. Y/N’s in labor.” Sam’s voice held that composed and assertive edge which it often did when he took the lead on hunts. You would have found it awfully attractive under different circumstances.

As it were, a fresh contraction tore through you when you reached the dresser, and you were forced to bend over to weather the impact, your breathing becoming a little uneven. Sam’s arms were instantly around you, while the sight of your hunched and gravid form awoke Dean from his stupor.

He cleared his throat and his voice seemed a little gruffer than usual, “Uh, OK. Right. So… the bags? What do I need?”

“I’ll get the bags. Just get the damn car ready, Dean.”

Still the older Winchester stood transfixed in his spot, his eyes were somewhat unfocused. “Wow. So this is really happening…”

“Dean!”

“Yeah! On it! Got it! Uh… fight the fairies, Y/N! We got this.” And with that, he finally took off for the garage.

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, “He’s right, you know? This is really happening.”

Sam turned around and held your gaze with such reverence and fondness, you nearly melted right then. “I know,” he stated simply, before he crashed his lips to yours in a rushed yet zealous smooch.

“Ow! Yeah, OK, I think the twins are sick of our antics already,” you gushed through gritted teeth as another tightening of your middle took over.

Sam cupped your stomach gingerly on either side, as if he could somehow abate the pain with his touch. “Right, let’s hurry it up then. I think all that soreness you felt before and the twins’ heightened movement might’ve been a sign of early labor.”

“You’re such a nerd, you know that?”

He only responded with knowing smirk, then continued to help you get changed so he could usher you out the door.

Dean met you outside, where he stood by the shiny black car, looking a little more prepared for action than earlier. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, are you?” Sam asked, a bit dubiously.

“Hey, I’m ready to get this show on the road!”

“Am I gonna fit?” You eyed the Impala with slight apprehension. You had always been a fan of the classic car before, but now that Sam had fertilized you so thoroughly, the backseat seemed a lot more daunting.

“Of course, my girl can handle anything. She’ll get you to the hospital in no time so that you can have my nieces.”

“Nephews,” you corrected, but nodded anyway and allowed Sam to help you inside the vehicle.

The boys stood outside for a moment longer. “You alright, Sammy?”

Sam was glowing and Dean couldn’t have repressed the surge of love and pride that rose within him if he tried, despite his ‘no chick flick moments’ rule.

“Yeah, I’ve never been better, Dean.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!” You would later blame the contraction for your foul language, but it was your shouting through the window that ultimately got you on the road.

“Yeah alright, we’re going! Just don’t be having any babies in my Baby!”

“Dean,” Sam’s bitch face revealed itself once more, “Don’t.”

→ CARRY ON

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! btw, if any of you sam girls wanna show off your love for the giant adorkable moose man, there’s a ‘sammy the moose’ print now available at lexicolor.redbubble.com!

also available in various styles, as well as on mugs, notebooks, phone cases, and a bunch of other stuff! and if you’re more of a dean girl, i got you covered too 😉❤️

[dissociativedaydream]

Soft (Part 1?)

Pairing: Bossk x Vertani!reader (Vertani is an OCspecies I created for stories like this - you can read more here)

Word Count: ~2.4K

Tags: NSFW (18+), minor physical details given to reader, illusions of abuse (reader's father to reader), mentions of alcohol/alcoholism (reader's father), protective Bossk, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV (wrap it up irl), handy, biting, brief mentions of blood, size kink if you squint, biting/marking

Summary: You're the last unmarried woman in your family's clan, your father has a debt he has to pay and you're the only valuable thing he had left. While you don't mind the betrothal you're nervous as you didn't know a whole lot about his kind and you're fairly inexperienced. Bossk decides to take it easy on you, this time.

A/N: I follow the HC that a few other people have that Bossk has internal reproductive organs & two dicks

Story below the cut

“Okay, so Trandoshans are from Trandosha-”

“No shit, really?” You snarked at your sister.

“Listen here you little shit,” she giggled. “I know you’re nervous but you don’t have to take it out on me. I’m just trying to prep you for marriage.”

You sighed, straightening your skirts in the dingy mirror. She was right you were nervous. Your father had arranged the marriage, you assumed to pay a debt. Dad didn’t really have anything of value other than you left and that wasn’t for much longer. As intimidating as Trandoshans were, it was better than being here with your father.

“Ooo, did you know their reproductive organs are internal?” Your sister giggled. “Wonder how that’s going to work.”

“You’re married to a Clawdite. I feel like you can’t talk.” You teased back.

She stuck her tongue out, “at least his dick is external.”

“Wait, the real question is does his dick change when he shapeshifts?”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Your father stormed into your tent.

Both of you went quiet. Dad didn’t like when you two were vulgar.

“Are you ready girl? He’s going to take you with him after the ceremony.” Dad’s face was impassive as he glanced around the room.

“Wait what?” You two asked in unison.

He sighed, he must’ve known this entire time. It had been two whole weeks since he announced you’d had an arranged marriage but this was the first you heard about leaving. Usually spouses stayed with the tribe, even if they had land the tribe would relocate to their home so the family stayed together.

“He’s a guild member,” dad sniffed. “I owed his father a debt, he said if I can get his son a wife then he’ll wipe my ledger. You’re the only available woman left in the tribe. His dad accepted you already so he doesn’t have much of a say either, which is good for you because of… that.”

Your father gestured at your face. Behind you, your sister growled. She hated when he pointed out what happened to my face, especially since he was at fault. When you were still little he had dropped you nearly into a campfire. If it hadn’t been for your sister it probably would’ve been worse but all the same, your right eye had to be replaced by a cybernetic one and carried some facial scars from the incident.

“They’ll be landing any minute now, I hope you’re ready.” And he left as quickly as he appeared.

“Dick.” Your sister murmured before turning back to you. “You finished the cloak for him, right?”

“Yup.” You picked up the cloak as well as the matching one for yourself. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Well, it’s about to so let’s go.” Your sister pulled you out of the tent and toward the landing craft.

Your heart was in your throat. You really only knew what your father told you about him which wasn’t a lot, you knew his species and that he was a guild member. He didn’t even tell you his name, for all you know he didn’t know his name either.

By the time you reached the starship, there was a small group of Trandoshians gathered around your father. He was drinking from a bottle then handed it off to one of the other men. You could smell it from here, granted grog had a pungent smell. How the hell your father could drink the stuff you had no idea. Though the Trandoshans didn’t seem to mind as they passed the bottle around.

“Girl, get over here.” Your father called.

“Great, he’s already drunk, there’s no way that’s going to ruin anything.” Your sister mumbled under her breath but pushed you forward anyway.

“Told you she was pretty Bossk!” One of the green Trandoshans nudged the other forward. “Your father knows how to pick ‘em!”

That must be him then. Bossk. At least he seemed as uncomfortable about this as you.

He stepped toward you, large hand extended. “It’sss nice to meet you, little one.”

You put your hand in his, noting how small you were in comparison to him. He could seriously hurt you if he wanted to.

“The cloak,” your sister hissed loudly behind you.

“Oh yeah, I made this for you.” You pushed the cloak into his hand.

He hummed, staring at it, you wouldn’t tell if he was annoyed, confused, or happy with the gift.

“You’re supposed to help him put it on, dumbass.” Your sister hissed again.

Bossk chuckled, having obviously heard her. “Do you need help, little one?”

Your face flushed, embarrassed of yourself already. You took the cloak and swung it up around his broad shoulders. He made a noise that you weren’t sure what to categorize it as, a chirp? Did Trandosians chirp?

A hand on your waist froze your thoughts.

“Thank you little one.” His voice was husky as he placed a claw under your chin.

You gasped which earned another chuckle from your betrothed.

“Good, you two are getting along,” your dad was slurring his words already.

If he was going to try to drink in pace with Bossk’s kin, he was going to get alcohol poisoning again. Soon it wouldn’t be your problem but right now..?

“Dad don’t you think-” you moved toward him as you spoke only for him to grab your arm roughly and twist.

You whimpered at the sharp pain, Bossk growled before grabbing the front of your father’s cloak. His eyes went wide and he released you in response before an angry look crossed his face. Oh no.

“Watch it lizard breath, she’s not yours yet.”

“No, no, no,” your sister ran and grabbed dad away. “I am so sorry, he says stupid shit when he’d drunk.”

The Trandoshans were getting a kick out of this, loudly laughing and joking with each other.

“Don’t worry child, it’s not a Trandoshan wedding without a fight.” Bossk’s father chuckled. “We won’t take it personally.”

“Let’sss get this party started,” one of the other men hissed to the cheers of the rest.

Bossk’s arm looped around your shoulders, pulling you to his strong chest. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, slow and steady. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, it could work. He nuzzled your hair, his warm breath fanning across your face, it was comforting. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this safe.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, you were sitting next to Bossk as you all ate. He kept a hand on your thigh the entire time. You were a little nervous about what the next part of the night entailed. Your sister mentioned that some Trandoshan clans still had the tradition of having the consummation needing witnesses. The last thing you wanted was to have a group of people witness your first time.

“Are you okay little wife?”

You glanced up to see your husband staring at you.

“Yeah just… daydreaming.” You smiled up at him.

“Nervousss?” He chuckled.

Your face flushed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He seemed to enjoy it though as he smirked at you. Leaning in he nuzzled to the side of your face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He murmured into your ear, tongue flickering out to lick the shell of your ear.

You squeezed your thighs together instinctually, trying to quell arousal that was flooding your core. His hand moved down your thigh to brush against your pussy.

“You smell deliciousss.” He chuckled.

Oh shit, that’s right. Better sense of smell. Somehow that didn’t help instead you could feel your heartbeat move down your core.

“C’mon little wife, say your goodbyesss. It’s time to go.” He pulled away before speaking to the other men, saying something in Dosh.

Your sister was teary-eyed as you hugged her goodbye but still gave you a little jab before you left.

“You have to comm me after because I’m morbidly curious.” She giggled as her husband gently elbowed her.

You rolled your eyes at her before following Bossk to his light freighter. He grabbed your bag from you and threw it onto the copilot seat before pulling you back into him. You squeaked as you hit his chest, he was like a brick wall.

Nuzzling into your hair again, you could hear a deep growl in his chest. You reached up for the collar of his flight suit, he chuckled rubbing his nose against yours before licking your lips. He grabbed your ass suddenly, lifting you up against him. Your legs went around his waist instinctually. It was a little weird not feeling a dick against you but you could work with it.

One of his hands went up to your hair and he yanked, probably gentler than he wanted to, to expose your neck. His tongue flicked out and against your pulse point, pausing there. You wondered if he could feel your pulse like that, he was definitely enjoying your vulnerability.

You wiggled out of his grip, feet hitting the ground. He looked at you confused.

“I was enjoying that little wife.” He grumbled, still unsure about what you were up to.

“Hopefully you’ll enjoy this more.” You whispered, pulling the zipper of his flight suit down.

He chuckled in understanding, watching you closely.

You swallowed, you were incredibly nervous since you had no idea what the hell you were doing. He could probably tell, he seemed more intuitive than you initially thought. As you pulled the zipper down, you had to admire his body. Despite the scales, you could see his muscle definition, thick corded muscle moving with each breath.

Once his pants were below his waist you were finally able to see what you were working with. He had a slit where other humanoid testicles would normally be. Bossk, probably sensing your hesitance, stroked the sides of the slit. You smirked, judging by his movements it was probably sensitive and that gave you an idea.

Pushing his hand away, you licked his slit. He groaned letting you know it was the right action to take, hand going to your hair. You trailed your tongue around the opening, Bossk hissing something unintelligible. He yanked your head back suddenly, his cocks emerging from the slit. While they weren’t terribly long, they were thicker than you were expecting.

But wait - Two?? How the hell were you supposed to take that?

He chuckled at your expression. “Don’t worry little wife. I told you I’d be gentle. Strip.”

You nervously untied your skirts before pulling your tunic up over your head leaving you in your leggings. Bossk was watching you closely, his hand stroking his cocks, and you were trying your best to not be self-conscious. You crossed your arms over your breasts.

Bossk growled again, stalking toward you. “None of that now, I want to see everything.”

He gripped the waistband of your leggings, his claws tearing the fabric with ease. You could feel your pussy dripping in anticipation. Bossk dropped to his knees, his tongue trailing up the inside of your thigh before lapping at your folds, just grazing your clit. You gasped, the friction was perfect. He chuckled as he stroked his cocks.

“Just like I thought, deliciousss.” He pressed his snout against your clit as his tongue pushed inside you.

You whimpered in response to the sudden intrusion. His tongue hit places you didn’t know you had inside of you. He grabbed one of your legs, putting it over his shoulder to give himself better access to your sensitive cunt. Between the pressure against your clit and the fullness of your pussy you felt yourself clench around his tongue, he groaned at the sensation, the vibrations traveling up your core. You were so close.

Without warning he withdrew his tongue, trailing it back up to graze your swollen clit. He stood, licking your juices off his chin as he pulled you toward him. You glanced down nervously, you could feel both dicks pressed against your belly, warm and hard. He nuzzled your neck again, allowing his sharp teeth to graze your soft skin.

“Are you ready, little wife?” He asked, trailing his tongue up your neck again.

Suddenly feeling a little bold, you grabbed his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist again. He let out a pleased grumble, pushing you up against a wall while he gave one of his cocks a few cursory pumps before slowly pushing it into you, the other resting on your stomach. You gasped, the hard intrusion a new sensation but true to his word, Bossk was being gentle. He allowed you to get used to his cock before snapping his hips forward, earning another gasp from you.

He chuckled before groaning, “you’re so tight around me, little wife.”

Feeling bold, you reached between your legs, grasping his second cock in your hand. Bossk growled, thrusting his hips up into you. You could feel every vein and ridge on his cocks as he pressed himself into both your hand and pussy. The familiar tension returned to your core, his cock pressing against the sensitive spot inside you.

The only sounds in the cockpit was the wet sound of him thrusting into you and your gasping breath as he pushed himself deep inside you yet again, his hips faltering as your pussy clenched around him.

His hands went to your ass, moving you so that you ground against him, his cock pressing a new spot inside you that made you cry out. Continuing the motion you felt the length of his second cock rubbing against your clit. The familiar tension was so intense you thought you were going to blackout.

Bossk gave another sharp thrust, he couldn’t stave off his release any longer. His exposed cock ejaculated clear cum across your face as his other cock flooded your pussy, you could feel some of it dripping from you already. The filling sensation was enough to push yourself over the edge, tension snapping like a rubberband. The wet heat of pleasure radiated from your pussy up to your core, your vision getting hazy from pleasure and exhaustion.

Your new husband nipped your shoulder lightly, breaking the haze. Gazing at your shoulder to watch the bite flush and go red as blood beaded along the teeth marks, you looked at him questioningly.

He nuzzled your neck once more, inhaling deeply. “So soft and warm, beautiful girl. I’m taking advantage to make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

You smiled at the thought, looks like this marriage will work after all.

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: While on a walk to clear his head, Alex is attacked by Caleb as a warning to him and his friends. Shaken, he refuses to tell the band what happened, but he does tell Willie who is furious and protective. Fluffy ending. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

Oooh, this was a really good request! All the details were really helpful too, so thank you for that. I really enjoyed writing it, especially the fluff at the end. I really hope this is the sort of thing you were after. Thank you for requesting it, I hope you like it!

TW: injury, blood.

Tripwire

It was safe to say that since Alex and the boys had left the dark room there had been a lot to process. Being dead, for a start. Adjusting to being a ghost had been a whole other ordeal too. Meeting Julie, forming the band, everything that had gone down with Caleb. Willie. Throughout those few months it had been non-stop, one thing after another, and Alex hadn’t had any time to slow down or take a break, not one single moment to really think about what was going on.

Now, somehow, all the difficult stuff was over and done with. Nobody had seen Caleb in weeks, Alex had managed to free Willie from the stamp, and the band had five more gigs lined up, plus a record deal on the horizon. While things were still definitely busy, it wasn’t so constant anymore. Alex finally had the time to just take a breather – or whatever the ghost version of a breather was, seeing as he couldn’t actually breathe. He had settled on his tried and tested method of going for a walk to clear his head to take the time to wrap his mind around it all.

The freedom of teleportation was nice, but it was definitely one of Alex’s least favourite ghost abilities. He couldn’t help but worry he’d somehow end up in the wrong place every time he did it, or that he’d poof out and never reappear anywhere else. It didn’t have the safety of walking through walls or being heard and seen when the band played together. And it might have been freeing, but it wasn’t nearly as freeing as just walking. Walking was slow and repetitive and methodical, rhythmic in a way that was relaxing. When Alex walked he didn’t have to think about where he was going – he could just let his feet take him there while his mind wandered elsewhere.

So that’s what he did. As he walked through the streets of Hollywood, Alex let his mind wander. He thought about everything that had happened since they came back, everything that might have happened in the twenty-five years before that, and everything that could happen in the future. Alex didn’t often think about the future; he didn’t like dwelling on things that were out of his control and the future was certainly that. But as he thought about it then, it didn’t seem quite so daunting – after all, nothing bad had happened in weeks.

As he was nearing the Orpheum, Alex suddenly felt as if something was wrong. It was an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach, a bad feeling that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Dread, maybe. Or perhaps just the intuitive feeling that something was coming and it couldn’t be anything good.

Ahead of him, no more than ten feet away, a mist was gathering, a light lilac cloud spinning faster and faster until it was so thick that Alex couldn’t see through it, growing taller and taller, wider and wider. The cloud spun so fast that Alex could feel wind rush past him from the movement of it, but it was gone as soon as it had come. The cloud dissipated with a soft whoosh, leaving behind a few sparkles drifting on the breeze it had created, and stood where the cloud had been was Caleb Covington.

While he wasn’t happy to see Caleb again after so long, Alex was glad to see he hadn’t lost his flair for the dramatic.

He knew he wouldn’t have time to get away, but he still considered it. Maybe if he ran instead of walking he could get away. He considered poofing out, but his mind had gone completely blank of places to poof to – all he could think of when looking at Caleb was the Hollywood Ghost Club, and going there was nothing short of the worst idea he could ever have had. So he stayed put, staring Caleb down, trying to stop the shaking of his hands and the hammering of his non-existent heart.

“Hello, Alex,” Caleb drawled. His hands were folded atop his cane and he wore a purple suit so dark it almost looked black, his cape wafting ever so slightly in the breeze, his top hat perched neatly on his head. Childishly, Alex wondered if he had the courage to walk up to him and knock the hat off his head. “Long time no see.”

“What do you want?” Alex demanded, trying to sound as if he wasn’t desperate to run away. He was aware that Caleb probably knew just how scared he really was, but if he didn’t show his nerves then he might have been able to convince himself that he wasn’t really frightened.

Caleb tutted. “Come now, is that really how you greet an old friend? I might have expected it from Luke but certainly not from you, Alex. I’m only here to see how you’re getting on without me!”

It felt like a trap, but Alex didn’t know what tripwire he was supposed to avoid.

“We’re doing fine,” he said firmly. “We don’t need you.”

“So you keep telling me,” Caleb replied. He flexed his hands, still grasping his cane. “Tell me, Alex – how did you and your little buddies manage to free yourselves from my stamp, hm?”

“Why should I tell you that?” Alex spat. It was a braver way of saying ‘we have no idea’.

“Oh, I don’t think you should,” Caleb admitted. “If you told me how you did it there would be dire consequences for you and your friends, but it would be extremely helpful to me. If you want to keep this newfound freedom with your silly little band, you shouldn’t tell me how you got the stamp off.”

“Then I’m not telling you,” Alex said.

“But,” Caleb continued, a malicious twinkle in his eyes, “if you want to walk away from this little chat unharmed then I suggest you tell me everything.”

Up until then, Alex thought he had been doing a very good job at standing his ground, maybe even looking a little intimidating. But the threat broke him. He felt himself freeze, his mind halt, and suddenly he was far weaker than the man in front of him.

“Unharmed?” he repeated. “What do you mean ‘unharmed’?”

Caleb cocked his head to the side like he didn’t understand the question. “Isn’t it obvious?” When Alex didn’t say anything, Caleb chuckled darkly. It sent shivers down Alex’s spine and made his stomach twist sickeningly. “Alex, if you refuse to tell me exactly how you got my stamp off, I am going to hurt you. And let me tell you, you’d be surprised just how much you can make someone hurt even after they’re dead and gone.”

Alex’s mind was spinning. There was no good option here, no way out. Caleb had trapped him in yet another impossible situation. He cursed himself for not poofing out while he had the chance.

But it didn’t matter how scared he was now, he would not let his friends suffer just to stave off his own pain. He had to take one for the team, even if he was dreading it. The smirk on Caleb’s face said that he knew he had won this round no matter what, smug and self-satisfied. Alex wanted to slap the smile right off his face, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight.

He steeled himself, set his jaw, tried to look like as much of a threat as he could. “I’m not telling you anything. Nothing you do can make me talk. Do your worst.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but he nodded. “Alright then. You’ve made your decision. I can’t say I’m surprised – you’re not as weak-willed as you look. But you’re still weak. I can still hurt you.”

He tucked his cane under his arm and stalked towards Alex. Too late, Alex wondered if he could have taken that brief opportunity to run away, but he would never know because Caleb grabbed his wrist. It was just like how he’d put the stamp on, a quick touch and a slight sting. When he let go, Alex looked at where his hand had been – there was a blood red mark there, swirling on his skin. Its shape constantly changed, but Alex was sure he picked out a blade before it twisted and morphed into something else.

“What is it?” he asked Caleb.

“You’ll soon see,” he replied, already walking away. He threw the words over his shoulder as he left Alex alone. “Consider this a warning to you and your friends. Willie, too. It isn’t over. There is plenty more I can do to make you suffer. It’s up to you to decide whether you’re willing to put yourselves through all of this just to stay away from me. I’ll see you soon, Alex.”

And he was gone.

For a moment, Alex was confused. This stamp, whatever it was, didn’t seem to be doing anything. It was just moving about on his skin, as fluid as water, like a cool tattoo. He wondered – hoped – if Caleb’s spell hadn’t worked.

But then it hit him. It felt as if he’d been struck by lightning and hit by a bus at the exact same time, unimaginable pain slamming into him and knocking him right off his feet. It was infinitely worse than the pain of the jolts Caleb had inflicted on them before which should have been impossible because those felt like death. And yet there he was, lying on the ground, winded and light-headed, pain surging through his body, unable to move.

Another one. This time it felt like he’d been kicked in the temple and had his face stamped on. He was sure his nose was broken even though that probably shouldn’t have been possible. He lifted a weak, shaking hand to his face and touched his upper lip – when his hand came away, his fingertips were drenched in blood. Alex had been sure that ghosts didn’t have blood, so he wondered whether he’d been wrong or if this was some sort of sick illusion Caleb had created. He decided it didn’t matter, not when he was vulnerable and hurting, in agony worse than dying.

Again, like being stabbed in the gut.

Again, like he’d broken his legs.

Again, like a knife twisted in his back.

It went on and on, attack after attack, pain after searing pain. It hurt too much for him to even scream for help, not that it would have done any good. All around him, lifers walked by without a care in the world, not knowing that he was right there, a snivelling wreck, bloodied and bruised. He curled in on himself and waited for it all to be over.

Eventually, it finished. The last jolt came like a punch to the jaw and when nothing else happened for fifteen minutes, Alex began to come to his senses. He opened his eyes and eased himself up into a sitting position. Even that hurt like hell. He studied his body – his legs, even though they felt like they had been snapped in half, seemed fine; there were a few bruises on his arms, but nothing major; every aching joint was killing him and his head was pounding; again, he touched his upper lip and felt blood crusted there, but none of it was fresh enough to be wet.

He could only imagine how pathetic he looked.

How was he going to explain all this to his friends?

Never mind an explanation – he needed to warn them.

Slowly, he picked himself up off the ground. He regretted it immediately as his head started swimming, he swayed on his feet, almost slumping right back down to the ground. He wouldn’t let himself be beaten by this, he wouldn’t show anymore weakness. His vision blurred (by pain or unshed tears, it was impossible to tell), he focused as much as he could on the studio and forced himself to poof back there.

The feeling of teleportation was uncomfortable at the best of times, but in such a state Alex couldn’t have imagined anything worse. He landed in the studio, his feet hitting the floor with such force that it sent shockwaves up his spine, nothing compared to what he’d just been through but still unbelievably painful. Distantly, he could hear his friends stop talking, muffled and indistinct voices crowding all around him, their faces swimming in front of his eyes.

“Alex,” came a voice. Maybe Julie’s, maybe Luke’s, maybe Reggie’s, maybe none of them. “Alex, buddy, you alright? Come on, speak to us, Alex. What happened? Alex? Alex?”

There was little strength in his arms, but he used it to push them all away and staggered his way to the couch. He collapsed onto it, suddenly feeling weak, somehow more vulnerable than he’d felt lying on the ground as Caleb’s stamp beat him bloody. He checked his wrist now – the stamp was gone.

He came back to himself a little at that; if the stamp was gone, he couldn’t be hurt anymore. He was alright now, he was with his friends, Caleb was nowhere to be seen. But knowing that didn’t stop the tears pooled in his eyes from sliding down his cheeks or his hands from shaking so intensely they might fall off his body. Someone – no, not just someone, it was Julie – crouched down in front of him and gently laid a hand on his knee.

He jerked away from the touch like it burned him.

“Alex,” came Julie’s soft voice. “Alex, please look at me. What happened?”

All he could do in response was shake his head and curl in on himself, body heaving with every sob he was too weak to suppress.

“Alex,” Reggie tried. Alex felt the couch cushions depress next to him as Reggie sat beside him. “It’s alright, man. You’re safe here with us.”

“You’re not alone, Alex,” came Luke’s voice. “Just tell us what happened. Who did this to you?”

But still Alex could only shake his head.

No one said anything for a while. The only sound in the studio was Alex’s laboured breathing and ragged sobs. He’d never felt so pathetic in all his life and death – he could make it through torture without crying like this, and yet just being around his friends after the fact was enough to set him off. He felt useless, he hadn’t even tried to stop Caleb in any way. He’d let this happen, he was the reason he was hurt. This was all his fault.

After a while, he heard the sound of one of the boys poofing out, presumably Luke because Alex could still feel Reggie sat beside him. Only a minute or so later, there was the sound of someone poofing back in, but Luke wasn’t alone now.

“Alex?”

His haggard breathing stopped altogether as Alex opened his eyes to see Willie in front of him, crouched down where Julie had been before. There was a soft smile on their face, reassuring, but Alex wasn’t blind to the tears in their eyes. Alex timidly reached out a hand to him and Willie interlocked their fingers.

“I’m here,” Willie said, his voice wavering. “I’m here for you, hotdog.”

At that, fresh tears began streaming down Alex’s face. He pulled Willie to him, wrapping him in a fierce embrace, holding them so tight that it made his new injuries sear with pain, but he never wanted to let go. The pain was worth every bit of comfort that simply holding Willie provided, every moment, every second, everything.

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Julie said quietly.

“What?” Luke protested. “No way, I want to find out who hurt Alex and I want to hurt them.”

“Luke,” Julie said, gentle but firm. “That’ll come later. I’m sure we’ll find out everything, but right now we shouldn’t surround him.”

Alex, still holding Willie like his afterlife depended on it, heard the three of them reluctantly leave him and Willie behind. He was grateful for the most part, but a little bit of him still wanted them there. It would have been harder to tell them all what had happened at once, but he would have preferred not to repeat the story.

Willie just held him. They didn’t press for him to talk, didn’t let go before Alex was ready, he just held him in his arms and occasionally whispered, “I love you. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Alex couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have someone like Willie care for him.

Eventually, he pulled away. It hurt to see Willie’s face streaked with tears, especially knowing it was because of him. Alex softly tucked a lock of hair behind their ear.

“I was out for a walk,” he rasped, his voice strained from crying. “Clearing my head. Like the day we first met. Same place and everything. Then there was this weird cloud and Caleb appeared. He said if I didn’t tell him how we got the stamps off then he’d hurt me.”

“Oh, Alex,” Willie breathed. Alex could see their heart breaking.

“I wouldn’t tell him. It’s not like we know anyway. So he… he put this other stamp on me – it was like, red and swirly and it looked like…”

“Death,” Willie finished for him. Alex nodded, looking at the ground, trying to still his breathing again. “It looked like death.”

“It felt like it too,” Alex said dryly. “Or worse.” He choked on his words, remembered it all, broke again.

He fell limply to the side, but Willie caught him, pulled him into a hug as he cried. There were images racing through his mind, one after the other – Caleb’s mirthless laughter and sly smirk, the stamp dripping across his skin, himself lying on the ground covered in his own blood. He still hadn’t figured out if that blood had been real or an illusion, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore because right that moment he felt as if he couldn’t breathe and his legs were numb and the walls were closing in and he was losing his grip on reality and losing his grip on Willie and–

“Come back, Alex,” Willie said, his voice cutting through Alex’s hopeless thoughts. “You’re not there anymore. It’s over. You survived. You are in Julie’s garage, I’m holding you, nothing can get to you. Come back, Alex.”

Slowly, Alex dragged himself down from his thoughts. He focused on the feeling on his hands clutching Willie’s hoodie, the tickle of Willie’s hair against his cheek, the warmth of Willie’s hands on his back. He focused on Willie and it brought him back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” Willie told him, sounding almost outraged. He watched as Willie took a moment to collect himself, and when they spoke again their voice was much calmer. “You have nothing to apologise for. None of this was your fault. Please tell me you know that.”

Alex couldn’t have truthfully said so, and he wouldn’t lie to Willie. Bottom lip trembling as he held back yet more tears, he remained silent.

“Alex, this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known Caleb was going to attack you. You couldn’t have predicted any of this. And it could have happened to any one of us. We all would have done the same thing. You made it through, Alex. This wasn’t your fault and you’re not weak for getting hurt.”

After a moment’s pause, Alex weakly repeated back to them, “This wasn’t my fault.”

Willie pressed a kiss to the top of Alex’s head. “Good. Please remember that. You don’t need to feel guilty about this, alright?”

All he did was nod, closing his eyes and resting his head on Willie’s chest.

“I can explain the stamp if you want,” Willie said, carding his fingers through Alex’s hair. “It has some fancy Latin name that I can’t remember. When Caleb uses it on someone, it takes the most pain they’ve ever been in, and it multiplies it by a thousand. It’s a good thing he can’t use it on lifers because if he did it would kill them with the first jolt.”

“I’m not surprised,” Alex deadpanned.

“The first time he used it on me I thought he was trying to kill me. Again. Or force me to cross over somehow.”

At that, Alex sat up and stared at Willie, wide-eyed. “The first time?”

Gently, Willie pulled Alex back to his lap and laid him down again. “He would use it on me if ever I stepped really out of line. The last time was the day you guys performed at the Orpheum. But I’m free now, so as long as we avoid Caleb it’ll never happen again. If we all avoid him – me, you, Luke, Reggie – then none of us have to get hurt.”

“I don’t think we can avoid whatever he’s got planned,” Alex mumbled.

“Maybe not,” Willie admitted. “But let’s not think about that now. Right, hotdog? I mean, you made it out today. Let’s focus on that. Is there anything you want to do?”

Alex thought for a moment but all he came up with was: “I just want to sleep. And I want you to hold me.”

He could hear Willie’s smile in their voice. “Of course. Whatever you want, Alex.”

Alex felt his eyes drifting closed, sleep catching up with him all at once, the exhaustion being a by-product of the agony. He didn’t mean to say it, but he heard his tired voice breathe, “I love you.”

And just before he fell asleep, he heard Willie whisper back, “I love you too, Alex. Sleep well.”

[a-vintage-snake]

Don’t Make Me Be The Bad Guy

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Moceit

Warnings: Dystopian future, implied torture

Characters: Janus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Summary: After seven years of fighting, Patton and his superhero team finally capture the super villain known as Deceit. But when Patton discovers evidence that sheds a new light on their nemesis he starts to wonder... Did he do the right thing?

Word Count: 9411

Author’s Note: For @dramaticsnakes, who’s a wonderful reader and writer. And special thanks to @rainbowbutterfrosting who helped me finish this when I almost wanted to give up. (Also, as always I upload and edit the mistakes out after, so bear with me)

Read on AO3

In the end, it had been Patton who had struck the final blow.

It had been mostly a matter of luck, really. One moment where Patton managed to break through the henchmen’s defences. One moment where he saw that their nemesis’ back was turned to him. One moment where he made a split decision.

One moment. And that moment had made all the difference.

He didn’t quite realize he had thrown one of his famous lightning bolts until it hit square between his enemy’s shoulder blades. He stood there, paralyzed, as Janus Lyre (alias Doctor Deceit) crumbled to the floor. The battle around them grounded to a halt as well, as the henchmen saw their leader unconscious at the feet of their enemies. His teammates froze as well, looking up at Patton in gaping disbelief.

When time finally seemed to start again, everything went by in a blur. The henchmen managed to escape, unfortunately with the super weapon Patton and his team had come to destroy. But it didn’t even seem to matter.

“By Odin’s beard, Padre!” Roman lifts him up in a hug. “You did it!!”

“I… I did?” Patton confusedly asks, still feeling a little dizzy.

“You got him! You actually got him!” Roman puts him back on his feet with a giant grin on his face. “We can finally put him away!” “But the weapon-!”

“Forget the weapon! We’ve got the bastard, Heart!” Virgil grins. “After seven years we finally got him! It’s over!”

“Well, not exactly,” Logan pipes in, although he can’t seem to stop grinning too. “There’s still the matter of rounding up the rest of his organization-”

“Technical details, my friend!” Roman dramatically waves Logan’s objections away. “We got their leader! Not a henchman, not some lackey, their actual leader! How long do you think until their little League of Losers falls apart?”

“Even so,” Logan says. “Better not celebrate until Doctor Deceit is safely behind bars. You three search the building. Who knows, maybe some of his henchmen are still hiding somewhere,” Logan throws a scornful look down at the unconscious Janus at their feet. “I will stay here and stand guard.”

“Ah yes, I was just about to suggest that!” Roman says as he flips his hair proudly. “Great intuition, Nerdy and the Brain!”

“Yes, sounds like a good plan!” Patton quickly squeaks as Logan gains a look that says he’s about a minute away from using his telekinesis to throw Roman across the room. “How about you call in our superiors, Logan? We need to put this villain behind bars!”

“Excellent idea, Heart Shock.” Logan says gratefully, while ignoring Roman’s protesting noises. Roman loved making the calls on jobs well done (which to be fair hadn’t occurred often lately).

“Great!” Patton grabs the hand of the still protesting Roman and pulls him along. “Come on Prince!”

Roman pouts and grumbles, but allows Patton to pull him further into the dark lair. He catches a glimpse of Virgil’s grin before he turns a corner.

“Bet you I can find something cool before you do!” Patton smiles up at Roman. His teammate’s grumpy face instantly brightens.

“Oh, you’re on Padre!”  

Dissolving into giggles Patton and Roman run down the halls. Roman could easily outfly him, yet he chooses to run alongside Patton for now. Giddily Patton runs towards a promising looking door at the end of the hallway.

Throwing it open he however sags in disappointment as the room they found only holds a couple cardboard boxes.

“Bah, nothing of importance,” Roman says as he kicks over the boxes and nothing but rusty spare mechanical parts fall out. “I suppose even villains need a trash cupboard. Come Heart!” Roman levitates from the ground. “Let us find something more dastardly!”

Before Patton can say anything Roman flies out of the room. Judging from the clanging sounds he’s already searching in a room further ahead. Patton casts one last glance around the room before he shrugs and turns to follow.

He pauses.

Uncertainly he turns around again. Something about the room doesn’t feel… Right. He knows it, yet he can’t put his finger on it why exactly. His powers crackle in his veins, sensing the off-ness in the air.

Cautiously Patton walks around the room, circling the walls slowly with one hand trailing amongst the bricks. The sense of wrongness only increases until…

In front of a seemingly bare wall he stops. There it is. He feels an unusual amount of electricity clustering behind the stone, yet the wall shows no outer signs of being anything else than… Well, a wall. Curiously Patton puts both his hands on the bricks and closes his eyes.

The world behind his eyelids lights up in bursts of electricity. His power hums in tune with the wires inside the walls, stringing all over the building and mapping out the lair in his mind’s eye in perfect detail. Patton only takes short notice of it before he calls his powers back and focuses it all on the wall before him. Yes, there it was. His powers outline a door in the wall, carefully hidden behind a buzzing security system.

Well, no match for him! Patton only needs to concentrate for a few seconds to have the electricity revert and change directions. Flexing his fingers and furrowing his brow he wills the electricity to move into the opposite direction, to change their route, until finally he hears a click. Patton opens his eyes. He pulls his hands back as the wall shifts and a door opens, so seamlessly hidden in the brick it was invisible to the bare eye. Patton allows himself a proud grin. Oh, he was on a roll today! Patton steps into the room, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He searches for a light switch, but he can’t find one nearby. No matter! With a soft snap small lightning bolts dance on his fingers, revealing rich red walls which somehow complimented the flickering lightning in his hands.

The room is mostly bare, apart from a table in the centre of the room. It’s covered with various maps, some showing population size while others showing outlines of cities, roads and shops. There were some pencils and pens in the middle of the table, most sharp and pointed while a few were so dull that they couldn't be used anymore.

Patton noticed only one chair at the table. He only looked at it, remembering the times were Logan lectured him about not touching the crime scene unless absolutely necessary. Still, the chair seemed comfortable, the black leather clearly in great condition.

His eyes drift slightly downwards towards the cabinets under the table. They all looked the same to him, a spruce colour with a silver handle that could be pulled out. He crouches as he tries to pull open the drawer without ruining the possibility of getting fingerprints. What kind of horrors would he find in there? Knowing Janus it was probably something awful, like torture devices, or puppets of them with their eyes crossed out, or… Or…

Not able to take it any longer, Patton pulls open the drawer. He draws back, covering his face with his arms and waiting for poisonous darts or something to strike out and hit him. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Patton carefully peeks over his arms.

Inside the drawer... is just files. No cyanide, no razor-sharp knives, just... files. Patton lowers his arms and opens the one next to it, with more haste than the last one, only to find more files. Huh… That’s… Not what he was expecting? He honestly didn't know what he expected to find. It's not like the files were bad to find, it just didn't give him the rush of putting in the last piece to a puzzle. Capturing Janus almost felt like that. He knew he should have been more proud of himself, but this wasn't even close to the end of it. There still were all of Janus' accomplices and the propaganda he spread throughout several cities to take care of after all. Maybe the files had the names of his accomplices in them?

Forgetting Logan’s warning about contaminating the crime scene Patton grabs one of the files from the drawer and absentmindedly flips it open.

A scream echoes across the halls. Patton jerks up, forgetting the papers in his hand as the sound of struggle trail toward him. He jumps up, stuffs the files in his jacket before he runs back to where they left their enemy tied up.

It appears that backup had arrived, and in that same time their enemy had woken up. Several soldiers struggle with restraining a livid Janus, who trashes in their grip as they try to drag him into an awaiting prison van. They had managed to gag him before he woke, a muzzle strapped to his face to protect the soldiers from the venom of both his words and his fangs. He fights wildly, but in the end he is still one man against too many. As they finally wrestle him to the ground to clap him in handcuffs, he and Patton make eye contact.

Despite that he just knocked the man unconscious, despite that Janus is currently lying on the ground restrained by ten men, Patton instinctively takes a step back from the pure fury in those mismatched eyes.

Janus looks at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world.

One soldier pushes a taser onto his neck. Janus’ eyes roll back in his head as he convulses on the ground, muffled cries coming from behind the muzzle. When the taser withdraws Janus slumps to the ground, unconscious once more. Finally the soldiers can drag him into the prison van.

“Haha, yes!!” Roman yells. “You shall taste justice now, villain!”

Roman laughs, but it is only when the doors of the van close and they drive off that Patton feels like he can breathe again.

--

The press conferences were always Patton’s least favourite part. To stand next to their CEO, listening to a briefing of yet another failed mission while the people in the crowd shook their head in disapproval had always been torture. The longer the years went on the worse the pressure to actually defeat their villain became. To come back to the cameras every time Janus escaped became worse and worse as the years went on. The disappointment of not only the AEP, but of the people… That alone felt worse than any punch he had ever gotten in battle.

Now however Patton felt like he could just burst from all the excitement. He could barely stand still enough for his stylists to brush his hair into a tamer shape. He peeked behind the curtains to the gilded ballroom beyond. The AEP had chosen this specific ballroom to announce the big news on purpose. Just two years ago Janus and his horrid crew had crashed a fundraiser being held here and had stolen all the people’s so graciously donated funds for a new hotel. They hadn’t been able to capture him. It had been an awful night!

To be here again was to show that villain they were not afraid. That they could claim back the spaces he so rudely invaded. Seeing all the people in their beautiful evening gowns and best jewellery now made Patton want to burst out from behind the curtain to yell at them that they were safe!! He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted to yell at the entire world!

You are safe! We rescued you! I defeated the villain, I did, I did-!!

“Here are our heroes of the day!”

Distracted Patton looks back to see their CEO has come backstage. Bentley Ceund is a man in his late fifties, with a bleach blond hair dye job that does not quite hide away his grey roots, as always dressed in a stylishly expensive suit. He was the one who had founded the AEP, or An Endless Peace organization, all those years ago. Yet outside of press conferences they did not see him often. And even when they did, it were often meetings filled with harsh words and bitter disappointment.  

“Have I wasted all my money on THIS?!” Their CEO had bellowed at them the last time they had seen him, when Janus had destroyed several important construction sites. “On FAILURES who can’t even capture ONE MEASLY MAN?!” Angry spit had hit Patton in the face as he struggled to hold back tears when Bentley had moved in close and screamed in their faces. “You’re a fucking EMBARRESEMENT to ME and the company who RAISED YOU FROM BIRTH!! UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS WASTES OF TIME!!”

Their TV and leisure time privileges had been taken away from them for quite some time back then.

That screaming man from last time was a far cry from the smiling one that approaches them now however. No, he in fact gives the others a joyful hug and praise. Roman and Logan beam, and even Virgil smiles hesitantly. When he turns to him Patton nervously fidgets for a moment, but Bentley gives him the possibly the grandest smile out of all of them.

“Heart Shock!” Bentley laughs as he draws Patton into a hug. He never uses their real names, even though he knew them by those well before their superhero names. “Well done, my boy!”

“T-Thank you sir!” Patton says excitedly, almost melting into the hug despite the overwhelming smell of body spray. He can’t help it. It wasn’t often he was the one who got most of the praise. That was usually either Logan or Roman. “I couldn’t have done it without the others though-!”

“No need to be so modest,” Bentley draws back from the hug, put keeps his hands on Patton’s shoulder. “I’ve read the report. You are the one shot down that son of a bitch!

“Oh, well,” Patton flusters. “Anyone could have done it-!”

But in the end it was you.” Their CEO chuckles, almost fondly. “Be proud of yourself, son. Thanks to you…” Bentley pats him on the shoulder. “The company is safe again.” “And the innocent civilians, sir!” Patton helpfully says.

“Hmm? Oh yes, those too I suppose.”

Patton frowns lightly, but before he can say anything Bentley’s PA interrupts.

“Mister Ceund? The program is about to begin.”

“Ah, yes! It’s time boys!” Bentley grins towards his superheroes. “Let’s tell the world what we have achieved today!” He gives Patton a pat on his cheek before he turns and walks to the curtains, waiting for the moment to make his grand entrance. Patton frowns, but he doesn’t have the time to think for long. Their CEO walks onto the stage where thunderous applause greets him. Eventually Patton just shrugs and stands with his teammates, dismissing the uncomfortable thoughts.

As the applause slowly grows to a halt, Bentley takes centre stage. “Today is a momentous occasion,” He says into the microphone. “After seven years of making our streets unsafe, the villain known as Doctor Deceit has finally been put behind bars!”

The crowd erupts into applause, filling the gilded ballroom with cheers and cameras flashing. Beside him Virgil flinches from the sudden noise. Patton discretely slips his hand into Virgil’s and squeezes. Virgil gives a grateful squeeze back.

“Today, history has been made. Today this organization has finally achieved that which we have promised you, all those years ago…” Their CEO pauses for a second, before proudly continuing. “An Endless Peace.”

The crowd applauds again, laughing politely at the reference of the company name.

“But of course, we did not do it alone!”

Patton and the others took a deep breath. Right. Time for the show!

“Please welcome your heroes! Here is Prince Charming!”

On that cue Roman flies up from behind the curtains and the crowd erupts into cheers. Roman flies his usual round over the crowd, occasionally sharing a high-five with an audience member and flashing his fans a million-dollar smile. Several men and women giggle and blush behind their hands as he flips his hair and blows kisses to the crowd.

“Show-off…” Virgil silently scoffs beside him.

“Come now, Virge,” Patton whispers back. “You know Roman loves the cameras! Let him have his fun.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but still a fond smile curls up his lips.

“Next, give it up for Brain Teaser!”

Logan purses his lips and sighs, but makes his entrance from behind the curtains anyway. Virgil and Patton exchange a knowing look. They’d listened to plenty of Logan’s rants about how ‘utterly illogical’ the serious man thought his superhero name was. Unfortunately the public was by now too familiar with the name to even suggest renaming him.

“Let me hear you for Stormcloud!”

Virgil supresses a shudder yet he still reluctantly dematerializes, only to rematerialize on stage in a cloud of shadows. While the crowd only grows in volume Patton winces in sympathy. The EAP knows how much Virgil can’t stand loud sounds, but for the audience he has to bear it with a smile. It was a weakness their enemies had exploited frequently. Janus would often blast high-pitched noises at such a volume Virgil would crumble where he stood, allowing him to escape over and over.  

Well, Patton thinks with a tinge of pride, he won’t harm his friends ever again now.

“And of course, last but certainly not least… The man of the hour! The hero who struck the deciding blow! Put your hands together for HEART SHOCK!”

The curtains are drawn and Patton is momentarily blinded from the hundreds of cameras flashing and deafened by the crowd cheering. Squinting Patton stands in the spotlight, dizzily smiling at the onslaught of praise that is directed his way. He walks forward- Although it feels like stumbling is a better word- to the front of the stage to where the CEO waits for him with a smile. Journalists crowd the stage as they shout questions.

“Heart Shock!! Heart Shock, over here-!”

“Heart Shock, how do you feel-?”

“What was going through your head?”

“How did you take the villain down? We want all the juicy details-!”

“Everyone, everyone! Please!” Bentley laughs. “One question at a time, please!”

Patton yelps as Bentley puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug like he’s a proud father. The cameras around them go nuts as their CEO smiles and poses with Patton.

“How are you feeling, Heart Shock?” One journalist manages to yell over the cacophony of questions.

“W-Well…” Patton stammers into the microphone. “I-I feel quite proud-!”

“A well deserved pride, my boy!” Bentley says jovially as he squeezes his shoulder.

“Yeah… I suppose it is-!” Patton smiles.

“Heart Shock! How do you think the villain will react to his status as prisoner?” One journalist yells, a question that is met with gaudy giggles.

“I guess…” Patton says with hesitant excitement. “He’ll find it…” He snaps his fingers, lightning dancing over his hands as he finger guns at the audience. “Quite shocking?”

To Patton’s bewildered delight the entire audience erupts into laughs. Even Bentley next to him laughs, while he had always disapprovingly glared before when Patton made a pun. Patton can’t stop the grin that spreads on his face even if he had wanted to.

The rest of the evening goes by in a haze. As the press conference part of the evening ends and the superheroes must mingle with the guests, the praise just keeps on coming. Patton gets patted on the back, hugged and complimented. The sheer amount of attention is dizzying. Patton can’t stop smiling throughout all of it. It might just be the best evening in his life.

It isn’t until he’s in bed, still glowing with pride and from all the praise, that Patton remembers the files in his jacket.

His superhero jacket lays thrown into a corner, cast aside earlier as he quickly got into a clean, more sleek version of his hero outfit for the press conference. Giving it a glance from where he sits on his bed he’s almost tempted to leave it until next morning. His handlers had actually given him hot chocolate and two cookies before bed! Two!! That was a treat he didn’t often get! He just wants to enjoy them in peace.

Still… Perhaps he could hand them over tomorrow, announcing all the wicked plans that are undoubtedly in the files that he had also stopped when he captured Janus. Grinning at that mental image Patton gets up from and retreats back into his comfy bed with the files, munching on a cookie as he lazily starts skimming through the papers.

An hour later his hot chocolate has long run cold and the second cookie lies forgotten on its tray. Patton sits straight up in his bed, the files open on his knees and his gaze firmly locked on the wall in front of him. His first cookie feels like lead in his stomach.

It couldn’t be the truth… It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!!

Abruptly coming back into motion Patton stuffs the files under his mattress and turns off the light to sleep, determined not to even consider or think about what is in them anymore. Yet it takes him until the first rays of dawn to finally fall asleep, and even when he does sleep his dreams are filled with mismatched eyes that look at him with a gaze that burns, burns, burns…

During the days of the week that follows he’s fine. He can smile and take the praise that he’s still showered with daily, with the files only a distant memory.

During the nights, however… Patton can’t seem to shake the image of those eyes. Furious, loathing mismatched eyes, looking at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world. The files underneath his mattress seem to burn a hole in his soft bedding, demanding his attention.

It is only a week later when he awakens from yet another nightmare plagued by those accusing eyes that Patton realizes this can’t go on. He has to know what it all means, or he might go mad with the questions that swarm his mind.

--

The next night Patton foregoes his bed in favour of slipping out of his room into the quiet halls of the facility, the files tucked away in his jacket. Sweat beads down his forehead, the familiar thrum of electricity inside the walls only a faint comfort. Although he only needs to make the barest effort to make the security cameras divert from him, the action still makes his hands shake. As he sneaks into the elevator at the end of the hall he inspects the buttons. You need a special pass to go to the very lowest level. But Patton only needs to send a pulse of electricity into the elevator to make the security system think he’s been granted access. As the doors close Patton swallows. No going back now.

The elevator ride feels both too long and too short. When finally the doors glide open to reveal a long hall Patton fastens his pace. He passes other closed cells, some of which he hears murmurs from behind their closed doors, but he does not slow down until he reaches the door at the very end of the hall. Door 409… Holding the highest level of security prison cell they have.

He glances backwards for a second, before he takes a deep breath and places his hands on the door. He feels the electricity answering as he redirects the flow. It’s hard. Harder than the vault in the lair, harder than tricking the elevator had been. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead, as he carefully has to divert his powers through layer upon layer of security, careful in case he triggers an alarm somewhere.

He isn’t quite sure how much time passes, but at long last the door finally, finally opens. Patton enters, and quickly slides the door closed again. His heart hammers in his throat as he presses his hands to the door and listens for the sound of the alarm going off.

It doesn’t come. He had done it. Exhaling a shaky breath Patton leans his forehead against the metal door, cooling his flushed skin.

“Well, well, well,” A smooth voice drawls behind him. “Look what the cat dragged in…”

Patton’s shoulders tense. He had hoped to never hear that voice again. A part of him is tempted to leave, but the files pressed against his chest still burn. So he gathers all his courage and slowly turns around.

The cell in the middle of the room is a monstrosity of glass and metal, bare apart from a simple bed. The security system surrounding it buzzes with the sheer amount of electricity it needs, making it dizzying even to Patton. It is only a small distraction however from the person all that electricity is holding prison, standing in the middle of that glass cell with his arms crossed at his back. Like he had been expecting him.

“My sincerest apologies for the mess. I wasn’t expecting such important company,” Janus grins. “Should I feel honoured that the famed Heart Shock is visiting little old me in my cell?”

Patton swallows. He had hoped that the villain would have been less frightening now, pulled away from his usual shadows and dragged into the light for once. He wasn’t. If anything the simple white prison grubs he wore instead of his usual black suits and the bright LED lightning only enhances how alien, how otherworldly he really is. The green scales trailing down his sharp face, the fangs glistening in that all too familiar mocking grin, the tall willowy frame that nonetheless packs a surprising amount of strength… The man in front of him is more monster than human. Patton wonders for a second if he ever was human to begin with.

“Oh, look at you,” Janus chuckles softly as the silence between them stretches on. “Like a frightened little mouse in the snake’s den… Whatever will he do now?”

Patton puffs out his chest indignantly. “I’m not afraid of you!” He says, ignoring how Janus raises an eyebrow with an amused smile. “I’m not! You have no power here! You’re our prisoner!”

“Really?” Janus mockingly drawls. “Well, pardon me for not believing you whilst you look like that.”

Patton belatedly realizes what kind of picture he paints. Pressed up against the door, as far away from the glass as he possibly can. Not exactly the fearless superhero everyone expected him to be.

Closing his eyes for a second, Patton takes a deep breath and steps forward. Cautiously he approaches the cell, his footsteps in sync with Janus’ until they both halt at the glass, right in front of each other. Patton stares up at his nemesis, more confident than he feels. Right into the mismatched eyes who have haunted his nightmares for almost a week now. He swallows, clenching his fist to hide that they’re shaking.

“While I’m definitely thrilled to have you here,” Janus smirks down at him. “I’m afraid I’m a very busy man, and don’t have time to have a staring contest with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Patton opens his mouth to ask what the heck he would be busy with, he’s a prisoner, but stops himself. That’s a discussion that would lead him nowhere, and he came here with a purpose.

“I’m here to talk with you.” He says instead.

“Congratulations, you just did,” Janus yawns, a forked tongue lazily flicking out from between sharp fangs. “If that was all, darling-”

“No! I mean-” Patton zips open his jacket and pulls out the files. “I’m here to talk about these.”

Janus’ eyes narrow when he spots the files, the only outward reaction he shows. Yet the temperature between them seems to drop to freezing level.

“I’ve never seen those before in my life.” Janus says airily.

“I found them in your lair!” Patton counters. “In a hidden compartment in the wall!”

“Did you now? How interesting.” Janus lazily inspects his fingernails. Patton frowns as he spots Janus’ left arm is completely wrapped up in white bandages. He can’t recall that they gave him an arm injury. He opens his mouth to ask, but shakes his head. He had to focus on this.

“These are your plans!”

“No they’re not.”

“Oh yeah?” Patton flips open the files. “Then how do you explain your name on top of these papers?”

“Can I help it that ‘Janus’ is such a popular name?”

“These are all written in your handwriting!”

“Preposterous. My handwriting is much neater.”

“All your old plans are in this, and some future ones!” Patton shouts exasperatedly.

“Pure coincidence.”

“Stop,” Patton grits out through clenched teeth. “Stop denying! I know these are yours!”

“If you’re so sure, why ask me at all?” Janus disinterestedly brushes away some invisible dust from his shoulder. “Why haven’t you immediately shown them to your superiors, like the good obedient lackey that you are?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” Patton responds heatedly.

With a growl Janus suddenly throws a fist against the glass, his eyes flashing dangerously. Patton jumps backwards, his throat squeezing shut before a startled scream can escape him.

“Don’t. Lie. To me.” Janus spits. “If you had shown them, you wouldn’t be here chatting with me in the middle of the night. Admit it.”

“I… No.” Patton finally shakes his head, gripping the files tightly between his hands. “No, I didn’t…”

“There we go…” Janus draws his hand back and crosses his arms again behind his back, his easy smile back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Heart Shock. Have your masters never told you it’s bad to lie?”

Patton bites his lip. It was true that he’d be in so much trouble if his superiors ever found out that he lied. But surely they would understand him lying to their enemy, wouldn’t they?

“You’re one to talk!” Patton says instead. “You lie all the time!”

“Says who?” Janus drawls with a mocking smile.

“Says me! You lied every time we fought, you just lied multiple times to my face-!”

“No I didn’t.”

“-And you lie in these files!!” Patton shrieks, waving the files in front of the villain’s nose. Janus’ smile falls and his face darkens.

“Oh? Pray tell, Patton.” Janus sneers, and Patton snaps back in shock at hearing his actual name coming from the villain’s mouth.

“H-How did you-?”

“Why exactly would you think I lied in these files?” Janus tilts his head. “If I wrote them, that is.”

“Because... Because-!” Patton flips angrily through the files. “Because these files say you used the money you stole from the hotel fundraiser two years ago to finance black market medication research!”

The hero looks up triumphantly, expecting Janus to laugh and simper about how gullible he is for believing such an obvious decoy. Janus however doesn’t laugh. He shows not even a hint of his mockery as he silently listens. Patton’s triumph falters, and he flips once more through the files to avoid that calm gaze.

“A-And here!” Patton pulls another paper from the file. “In here you claim that you kidnapped the scientist Emile Picani because the AEP made him design weapons, not new mental health robots!”

Still no response. Patton scowls as he holds up another paper. “This says you destroyed a construction site for a new factory because the output would pollute the town’s only water resource!”

“They were also exploiting the builders,” Janus finally interrupts. “Forced them to work under horridly unsafe conditions for barely a quarter of the salary they needed to support their families.”

“Yes!!” Patton throws the files down with frustrated force, making the papers fly everywhere. “You… You… You keep lying in these files, making us appear like the bad guys! Is this what you tell the people? To brainwash them into joining your stupid little gang?”

“Me? Brainwashing? HA!” Janus shakes his head. “That’s a laugh and a half…”

“I’m onto you, Deceit!” Patton proudly puffs out his chest. “I see right through your tricks!”

“Oh, of course you do,” Janus smiles down at him like he’s a child who just badly solved a puzzle game. “Nothing gets past you. Truly, I’m so impressed.”

Patton’s certainty wanes. Villains who just got their plans exposed should look angry, not like they’re secretly laughing at you.

“Well, if you’re done spouting wild accusations, would you mind closing the door behind you?” Janus stretches his arms above him. “I want to get my eight hours of sleep in before I get thrown into the next torture session tomorrow, thank you very much.”

“Torture-? Oh, haha, very funny!”

“Not joking, unfortunately-”

“Why do you do this??” Patton has to resist to stomp his feet in frustration. “Why do you keep on lying?”

Janus lowers his arms, his smile falling away. “I don’t.” He says. The seriousness of his voice throws Patton off, but even so he scoffs.

“Yes, you do!”

“I really don’t. There’s not a single word in those files that isn’t the honest truth.”

“Yeah, right,” Patton crosses his arms. “Tell that to the people outside! Or to my superiors!”

“Oh, by all means, bring them in,” Janus says seriously. “Bring them all in! Your precious masters, all my supposed victims… I think you’ll find that they’ll all agree with my side of the story.”

Patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, uncertainly. The rigid seriousness of the other makes him more nervous than he hopes he lets on. He was so used to the dangerously charming smooth talking Janus that he had no idea what to do with this calm, somber Janus. Oh, why hadn’t he taken Logan with him? He would have known what to say!

“Oh really?” Patton eventually says, sounding more sure of himself than he actually was. “What exactly is ‘your side of the story’? Go ahead, I could use a laugh!”

“You want to know, little mouse?” Janus says, and just like that the dangerous smile was back. “You really want to know?”

Patton swallows, but tilts his chin up defiantly. “Yes.”

“Well, you asked for it…” Janus hums thoughtfully, gathering his thoughts for a second. “My side of the story is about how years ago a small company gained interest. Funded by the richest of the rich of the world this company created unwilling abominations. Children reared only to use as weapons to hold the world hostage. So that those richest of the rich could create a planet where the lowest of the low were forced to work for them. Leeching of the world’s natural resources like parasites, while the rest of us peasants suffer as a result. Of course, that was the system even before these children became their shiny new atom bombs, but now… Now they had safeguard. A safety net that ensured no one would ever dare to rebel against them. Well…” Janus smiles. “Almost no one…” Janus inspects his fingernails casually again. “Of course, to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by such things as icky morals, they justify their actions by saying it was for the greater good! By saying this system created…” Janus raises an eyebrow at Patton. “An Endless Peace?”

A silence falls between them. Then Patton lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? You think I’m going to believe that? I’m not dumb, you know!”

“Dumb, maybe not,” Janus shrugs. “Naïve, however…”

“I don’t believe you!” Patton says proudly.

“You were born and raised at AEP, weren’t you?” Janus asks. “Told from a young age you were born to be a superhero? To help people? Tell me Patton, have you ever been away from this building for anything else than superhero business? Or talked to anyone who isn’t approved by EAP first? Anyone at all?”

Patton tries to think of an answer, but comes up empty. “The people in this building protect me,” He answers instead. “Protect me from people like you, who would exploit my powers for evil!”

“Trust me honey, you’re not the one who needs protection out there…” Janus mutters.

“I don’t believe you.” Patton repeats, a bit more uncertain this time.

“Fine. Don’t then.” Janus shrugs. “I don’t need you to believe me for it to still be true.”

The absolute confidence in Janus’ voice infuriates Patton, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“EAP is a good company! We actually help people, unlike you!” Patton yells, now actually stomping his foot. “You stand there trying to tell me you’re so noble, when you have NO PROOF for anything you claim!!”

“Proof?” Janus growly lowly. “You want proof? Fine!” Angrily he grabs the edge of his bandages and starts unwrapping his arm. “I’ll give you proof!

Patton inhales a sharp breath as Janus unwraps the last bandages. His arm is completely raw and swollen, oozing with barely healed wounds. His stomach turns at the sight of angry deep black burns strewn over any flesh that got spared.

“They tore the scales off my arm,” His cool façade finally shows cracks as Janus’ voice shakes. “One by one they ripped them off my skin. Even when I finally talked they didn’t stop. They continued on until my arm was bare, and the iron they placed in the fire was white hot. That’s how I got these…” Hovering his fingers over one of the burns he swallows. “Obviously I told them old hiding places, long since abandoned. It will keep them busy for a while, but when they realize I’ve given them old information…” He rubs his jaw absentmindedly. “They said they would take my teeth next. Too bad... I’ve grown quite fond of my fangs.”

“They…” Patton shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from Janus’ tortured arm. “They wouldn’t do this…”

Janus’ eyes turn cold, his collected mask back on. “Obviously, they did. Or do you think I would do this to myself to gain sympathy points with delusional so called ‘good guys’?”

“B-But-!! We are the good guys!! The people, they love us-!”

“Oh, please,” Janus rolls his eyes. “The only reason the ‘common’ folk sing your praises is because they’re too afraid that their ‘beloved rulers’ send you to destroy their homes next.”

“T-That-! That’s NOT true-!!”

“Do you know what they call your little ‘hero’ group outside of the little circle of rich assholes you protect?” Janus says with a nasty smile. “They call you ‘The Executioners’. Because the minute someone refuses to obey, to fall in line… They send you. To make sure the people know who’s in charge. To destroy any ounce of happiness they scraped up and make an example out of the corpses you and your friends leave behind in their wake!”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!” Patton shakes his head, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out that damned smooth voice.

“Face it, kid. You’re no hero. No… You want to know what you are?” Janus continues on mercilessly. “You’re a tool. A sharpened axe the elite of the world hold over the necks of the common people, so they continue working as proper frightened little drones. Nothing like a good threat to keep their servants from revolting against them.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!” Patton screams as he throws his fists against the glass, the lights above them flickering in sync with his outcry. His powers bursts out of him with a force he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid. Electricity climbs over the glass cell in living lightning, framing the villain like a cursed portrait. But Janus barely blinks as the electricity crackles around him.

“If you are so sure that I’m lying… Why are you still here?” He asks thoughtfully. “Why come here at all if you truly think I lied in these files? Unless…” Janus says slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “Unless you’ve already seen the cracks in their pretty façade. Is that it?”

Just as quick as his power had acted up it retreats. “I… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Patton stammers as he pulls his hands away from the glass, the bright glow of the electricity dying in his fingers. He steps back but Janus follows, like a shark that smells blood in the water.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Janus breaths out a disbelieving laugh as he shakes his head. “When did you start to notice the holes in their logic? Started to taste the bitterness in their pretty lies? How long have the doubts been eating at you, Patton?”

“That’s not…” Patton starts weakly, but any other rebuttals wither and die before they can leave his mouth.

“You’ve seen glances of their true faces,” Janus continues. “And you hoped that I would what? Comfort you? Deny everything and let you wallow in your own self-denial? Be the so-called ‘villain’ you think I am so you can continue feeling good about yourself?” Janus chuckles, lowly, the sound wrapping around Patton’s throat like a noose. “Come now darling… Did you really think I was that kind of person?”

It distinctly feels like something inside him breaks. The pretty wall of his superhero persona crumbles and crashes down, leaving Patton with only the ugly truth that wall had kept hidden from him. The pride and praise of the past week now suddenly tastes like bitter ash in his mouth.

He hurt people. He hurt the world. He did he did he did he did he DID-!!

He can’t take any more. Patton’s legs give away beneath him as he crumbles in front of the glass, his chest heaving with sobs. Pulling his hands through his hair he buries his face in his knees, tears dripping down his cheeks. Janus says nothing while Patton’s sobs echo in the room. He only stares down at the shattered hero at his feet with a distant kind of satisfaction.

"What do I do...?" Patton eventually whispers when the tears finally slow. "What can I do to make this right…?"

Janus grins, kneeling down to look the hero straight in the eye.

"You could start," He purrs. "By getting me out of here."

--

Patton walks through the halls he’s walked through a thousand times. His heart hammers a mile a minute in his ears, almost deafening him. Yet it can’t keep him distracted from the person currently running after him, sticking out amongst the grey walls like a sore thumb in his bright white prison grubs. They halt at an intersection, pushing their backs against the wall and holding their breath as soldiers run past in the next hallway.

“I’m going to need your phone.” Janus suddenly whispers, making Patton bite back a yelp.

“I-I don’t have one-!” He stammers. Janus gives him a long-suffering look.

“I’m not surprised, yet somehow still disappointed.” Janus sighs as he impatiently moves past him. Just as Patton wants to ask what he’s planning, Janus darts out of the dark corridor, as quick and ruthless as the snake he is and grabs the last soldier in the platoon that passes them. He gives her no time to alert the others in front of her as Janus covers the soldier’s mouth, drags her back into their corridor and sinks his teeth into her neck.

“What are you doing?!” Patton hisses.

“Making sure we can get out of here!” Janus hisses back as he pulls his teeth from the soldier’s neck. The woman’s eyes are already drooping, despite her effort to raise her voice in alarm. By the time Janus lowers to the ground she has fully lost consciousness.

“You can’t do that!! She’s just doing her job!” Patton furiously whispers as Janus searches her pockets.

“Yeah, well, currently her job would be to shoot me on sight, so excuse me if I would rather not die!” Janus finally victoriously pulls a phone from the soldier’s pocket. Grabbing the soldier’s hand for a second to make her unlock the screen, he then furiously starts texting.

“What are you doing??” Patton repeats, just as frantic.

“Arranging our getaway ride, if all goes well,” Janus says as he finishes the text and hits send. “Now we just need to get out of here and keep hidden until they can come for us!”

“Right… Right!” Patton nods. Oh, why did he do this again?? “I know how we can get out of here! We’ll have to follow-!”

“Patton?”

Patton freezes at that familiar voice. Turning he comes face to face with Virgil, wrapped in his favourite hoodie and sleepily rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. How could he have forgotten his teammate’s insomnia? Or his habit to wander around until he got sleepy??

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Virgil yawns. “Do you want a lecture from Logan about proper sleep schedules? Because trust me, they’re not very-”

Virgil freezes as Janus rises to his feet behind Patton. His eyes dart between him and Janus, gasping as he finally spots the unconscious soldier on the ground.

“You…” Virgil’s voice turns dark, the shadows behind him moving on his unspoken command. “I don’t know how the FUCK you got out, but you will step away from my teammate RIGHT NOW and get back to your cell, or you’ll regret it!”

“No thank you,” Janus smirks. “While I thoroughly enjoyed your hospitality, the room service here is positivelyabominable. Not to mention the horrid excuse you call cuisine. I don’t think I’ll return here soon.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Virgil growls, gathering his famous shadows in his hands.

“Virgil, NO!!” Patton screams and steps between the two before Virgil can throw his attack.

“Patton, get out of the way!”

Patton shakes his head. “No! You have to let us pass, Virge!”

“What do you mean-?” Virgil stops, furious disbelief etching across his face. “…It was you… You helped him escape-!”

“I…” Patton swallows and nods. “Yes, yes I did… But Virgil-! It’s not what you think! We’ve been lied to, Virge!”

“Yes, by HIM!!” Virgil points at Janus, who wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. “You know, the enemy that we’ve tried to capture for literal years??”

“No, not him! The AEP! They’re the ones who lied to us! They’ve been using us, Virge! They used us to… To attack innocent people! We’ve hurt the world instead of saving it! We have to set this right!!”

“What the hell are you talking about-??”

“Virgil, please,” Grabbing Virgil’s hands in his Patton gives his teammate- No, his best friend- a pleading look. “Come with us! Help me take down the organization! They’re the bad guys, Virge! It was never him!” Patton gestures to Janus.

“Oh that’s fine, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus mutters.

“We can fix this, Virgil. You and I!” Patton says, fragile hope growing in his voice. “Please, trust me on this! Let’s run away together from this place and actually help!”

Virgil stares at him, the tense silence stretching on in the hallway like a wire slowly growing taut. Virgil’s eyes flicker between him and Janus indecisively. Patton hopes for a brief second that maybe, just maybe-

His stomach drops when Virgil’s gaze remains on Janus, and just like that the wire snaps.

“You…” Virgil snarls. “I don’t know what lies you fed him-”

“Virgil, please no-!!” Patton pleads, but Virgil shoves him aside.

“But I will not let you get away with it!” The shadows behind him move again, answering their master’s call as they gather around him. “I will take you down for this!!”

“Must we?” Janus sighs exaggeratedly before he straightens himself and grins his lengthening fangs bare. “I suppose I have time in my busy schedule to teach you some manners, Stormcloud.”

Virgil growls and aims his hands towards Janus, the shadows behind him brewing and moving in dark colours without hesitation. Patton doesn't think. Later on he wishes he had. He doesn’t remember moving, yet he sees his hand grab onto the back of Virgil's neck. He doesn't want to see the sparks fly out of his hand, making the Virgil’s body go rigid before promptly becoming weak in his grasp. But it doesn’t matter what Patton wants, as Virgil's body hits the floor with a thud quieter than it should've been.

Paralyzed Patton makes eye contact with Janus over Virgil’s unmoving form. The other man stares at him dumbfounded, uncertainty and shock fighting for the same place on his eyes. Patton looks down, trembling.

Oh god what had he done.

For the second time that evening Patton felt his knees give way beneath him as he fell next to his friend.

“Virge…” Patton whispers, pained regret shaking in his voice.

“Patton-!” Janus walks up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders but Patton barely feels it.

“I’m s-so sorry-!!” Patton sobs over his friend’s unconscious body.

“Patton.” Janus says, his voice so calm that Patton’s muddled mind readily clings to it. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“I-I c-can’t j-just leave him h-here-!!”

“You must. The commotion must have alerted someone. This place might be crawling with guards soon. We have to go.”

Patton looks up in Janus’ eyes, their mismatched colours strangely grounding him and he nods. Janus helps him to his feet, and after one last look towards Virgil, Patton turns and they run.

Much later Patton would look back on this night and barely remember their escape. He leads Janus through the facility on automatic pilot, only managing to avoid capture because of Janus’ vigilance and sharp hearing. In the end Janus has to take out only one additional guard, who had been watching the emergency exit that Patton had lead them too. This soldier went down much easier than the first one. Patton supposed he hadn’t expected anyone to come to the quiet, halfway forgotten exit. But how could Patton forget it? He and Virgil had used this door as kids to escape from training once in a while.

Virgil…

Janus hastily runs through the emergency exit with Patton closely following behind. The cold night air finally shakes Patton's mind awake, away from the phantom feeling of Virgil's neck and how his hand tingles slightly. He almost wishes the tingle hurt.

They run loudly on the pavement, aiming for speed over secrecy. Patton’s breath comes in heavy pants and his lungs prickle, yet he dares not to stop or to look back. When they reach the high fence it takes Patton’s every bit of concentration to stop the electricity singing in the fence, guiding it away from Janus as they climb over it.

The sirens start as they safely land on the other side of the fence.

With the alarms blaring behind them Patton follows Janus to where the concrete leads into worn-in dirt, and where that leads to sticks, leaves, and not many traces of society. Patton's breath hurt in his chest, but knows he can't stop for a moment. He doesn't bother looking behind him either.

After what feels like hours but were more likely minutes, Janus skids to a halt, his breath forming clouds in the cold air as he leans heavily against a tree. Patton leans his hands on his knees, catching his breath. In the distance the alarms continue blaring.

“D-Do…” Patton gulps, exhales. “Do you think we’re safe…?”

Janus looks at him. “I don’t know…” He says, and Patton hates the raw honesty he hears in his voice. He suddenly much prefers the smooth lies his former enemy could spin at a drop of a hat. If they’re caught, he'll suffer Janus' previous fate or worse. Patton doesn't want to think about how it could get worse.

Just as he’s about to sit down, resigned to his new fate, a bright spotlight illuminates their spot in the forest. Patton can’t stop the startled scream as spots dance in his vision at the sudden brightness, the rumbling of an aircraft above them finally overpowering the sound of his wildly beating heart. They had found them already??? Or…

“Ahoy down there!” A nasally voice shouts down over the intercom as a rope is lowered from the aircraft. “Did some clown order a clown car??”

Patton puzzlingly frowns, but besides him Janus grins.

“Hold on, Heart Shock!” Janus grabs the rope with one hand and throws his other arm around Patton’s waist to hoist him up close. “Our ride is here!”

Before Patton can form some kind of protest the rope is hoisted up. A high-pitched shriek tears from his throat as the ground falls away beneath them. Patton never liked flying or heights in general. No matter how many times Roman took him for a flight he never got used to it. So he throws his arms and legs around Janus koala style and buries his face into the other man’s scaled neck. He dares not to peek as they dangle above the ground until he feels hands grab him and Janus. Excited voices ring in his ears as the hands drag them both into the aircraft. As they land on the metal floor with a heavy thud a blush creeps in on Patton’s cheeks when he untangles his arms and legs from Janus’ frame.

“Snake Daddy is in the nest!!” The same nasally voice shrieks over the roaring engines. “HIT THE GAS!! GO GO GO!!!”

The door behind them slams closed, and the aircraft flies off with a speed that throws Patton backwards, making an inelegant roll on the hard metal floor. Janus on the other hand sits up his knees, giving the man that runs up to them an exasperated look.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” Janus sighs. The man gives him a grin that makes his moustache curl up mischievously. Either Patton’s eyes are deceiving him, or the man resembles Roman to an uncanny degree.

“And I told you to get used to your new codename, Double-D!” The man joyfully says. “Deal with it!”

Janus rolls his eyes, but nonetheless grabs the hand stretched out to him. As he’s pulled to his feet Janus throws his arms around the other.

“Remus, you absolute insane wonderful man you,” Janus breathes shakily. “How the fuck did you get here so fast?”

“Are you kidding me??” Remus eagerly returns the embrace. “We’ve been hiding around here for five days now!”

“You what-” Janus reels back, grasping Remus by the shoulders “Why??”

“To rescue you, of course!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake- You promised that if I ever got captured you would continue where I left off! Not risk everything by trying to rescue me!”

“Yeah, well,” Remus shrugs. “You promised me that I would get to watch you use the president’s head as a football some day! And god fucking dammit, you are not getting out of that promise, no matter how hard you try!”

Patton flinches at the gruesome fantasy, but Janus only wetly laughs and draws Remus back into a hug. Over the whole aircraft relieved and excited voices ring, welcoming Janus back.

Amidst the excitement Remus halts as he finally spots Patton, who still sits quietly amongst the excited rebels.

“No fucking way…” Remus breathes. “You actually got us a hostage?”

Patton freezes. As all eyes turn to him, he suddenly remembers again that he’s surrounded by people he previously thought as his enemies. And to them, he still was the enemy.

"Double-D, you should've warned me you would bring a hostage! I would've brought the rougher rope with us!" Remus pulls away from the hug and quickly moves towards a container, which once opened Patton could see was full to the brim with rope of various colours, each appearing thick and rough enough as they were.

Janus dramatically sighed. "He’s not a hostage."

Remus stops rummaging through the container and quirks an eyebrow. "But Heart Attack or whatever is one of those stupid guys! Wait.” Remus squints suspiciously at Janus. “Don't tell me you're breaking up with me and joining his side."

“Not quite,” Janus says as he extends a hand to help Patton to his feet. As he stands Janus lightly places his arm over Patton's shoulders. A shield against the suspicious glares from the rebels around him. "You see, my darlings… He's joining ours."