#corrupt organization what? he was just bored. though he could help a bit and this guy annoyed him

[sadlynotthevoid]

Og!Cale in 36-year-old KRS body is a Gentleman TM, but he's also a little shit at the same time, all the time— and I love that.

Guy will help the new worker that almost tripped, while insulting his superior at their face. All the time with a charming smile in his face, but his eyes are clearly looking down on his superior.

He's a constant walking contradiction and unintentionally capable.

His to-do list probably would look like this:

-Buy tomatoes.

-Take down the new mafia hideout above the street.

-Pick up niece from school.

-Try to cook.

-Call director Ma to annoy him.

-Order actual food.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.5)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Five) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 3,059 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior Author’s Note: I’m not sure if this is the last part but I’m leaning towards it.

Part Four || Part Six || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Five and a half months ago…

Tony blinked against the sun as they left the news station. Y/N had facilitated a project, along with others, to bring seniors more fresh produce in their Meals on Wheels local program. She was excited about the project and Tony honestly could not give two shits about it but if it made her happy, he was happy to be there with her. He loved seeing the joyous smile on her face and her enthusiasm talking about it.

His hand was wrapped tightly around her waist as they walked out towards his car. And his smile only faltered when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd across the street. And a face he did not want to be seeing in public like this. And they were staring directly at him, like they had been waiting for him.

Tony turned to Y/N and whispered in her ear, “I need to go to the restroom.”

“We were just inside,” she jested. “Why didn’t you go then?”

“I didn’t have to go then. Here.” He opened the door for her, letting her get in. “I’ll be right back.”

To Happy, he whispered, “Fabian.”

“What do you want me to do?” Happy asked quietly, keeping his sights on Tony and not being obvious.

“Stay here with Y/N. I’ll be right back.”

“Boss—”

“He’s not going to lay a finger on me.” Tony said and Happy looked at him disbelieving. Tony was being overconfident about it and he knew it but he could not accept lowlifes trying to approach him in public like this. “Stay here with her. I’ll be back.”

Tony walked away from the car, moving back down the sidewalk. He spotted Fabian moving through it and he smirked to himself. He walked past the news station doors, and down the immediate alley.

He was waiting when Fabian entered the alley, standing dead center, hands in his pockets. If looks could smite, Fabian would have burned on the spot. “What makes you think you can come up to me in public?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls I’ve been leaving!”

“Yeah and for good reason. You’re unhinged!”

“That wasn’t my—"

Tony stepped closer, spitting, “You listen closely, Fabian, I am done with you and your bullshit! You are done. Do you get that? You had your chance and you fucked up. And I cannot be seen in public with you. You know that though. You squeal to anyone and you won’t just have me after you, you’ll have the whole city gunning for you with how many people are tied to it and you will. not. win. If you ever come up to me in public again – especially when I’m out with my wife – I will kill you on the spot.”

Tony straightened out his jacket before storming away from the man who was staring at him slack jacked. Tony did not give him a moment to respond before he was around him and striding back down the alley.

When he got into the car, Y/N was none the wiser.

She was immediately back into conversation, talking about what good this interview was going to do for the project and thanking him for coming along with her. Tony smiled sweetly, listening intently. His adoration for her wove deeply. He truly had recovered a true gem from the rabble.

<><><>

You stared at the door in bewilderment before touching it again. F.R.I.D.A.Y. repeated, “You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

“Excuse me?” you word vomited.

“Do you need me to repeat the message, Mrs. Stark?”

You hated how calm F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded.

“Override,” you tried.

“You do not have authorization to do that, Mrs. Stark.”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Mr. Stark blocked access at this door.”

You let out a frustrated noise before turning away from the door. You walked to the bedroom door, feeling the ache but you had to know. You walked down the stairs, taking them slowly. You went to the closest patio door, gripping the handle tightly.

“You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

Breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep yourself calm, you turned your head eyeing the next patio door.

Her voice was becoming quickly annoying. “You’re not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

You took off around the mansion, trying all the doors leading to the outside but you got the same code when it read your fingerprint. You made your way to the front door, the door to the garage, out to the garden. It was all the same message. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, it sinking in that you were locked inside.

The thought of the kitchen door out to the pool came to you and you moved as quickly as you could there. You stalled seeing Happy standing in there, cutting an apple. He stilled seeing you and you did not miss the sly look he gave you as you moved through the kitchen, past the island where he was standing.

The same goddamn message.

You whipped around and stared at Happy.

“Let me out!” you demanded.

“I can’t override what the boss has inputted into the security system. You know that,” Happy said in passive tone, looking completely indifferent to how worked up you were.

“Where is he?”

“He left earlier.”

“Well, did he happen to mention to you why he was locking me inside?” you exasperated, throwing your hands out at your sides.

Happy sucked at his teeth, leveling you with a serious look. “Y/N, do you really need to be asking me that? Truly?”

You bit your cheeks to avoid shouting at him and forced yourself to turn on your heel and storm out of the room away from him. You made your way back up the stairs, going for your bedroom where your cell was waiting on the bedside table. Snatching it off the table, you pressed Tony’s name.

“Yes, kitten?” he answered calmly.

“Your stupid AI won’t let me out!” you exclaimed.

“Yeah, I programmed that this morning.”

“You…,” you started to argue but then your voice went up a notch, trying to whine. “Daddy, you can’t keep me locked in here!”

“Can’t or shouldn’t? Because it looks like I’m already doing it, so I apparently can,” Tony replied coolly.

“You shouldn’t then!” You added for good measure quickly, “Please!”

Tony’s tone was firm when he told you, “I think I very well should. You crossed a lot of lines and I am not fucking around when I tell you that they were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You brought this on yourself, Y/N. Maybe if you spent less time throwing tantrums and more time listening to me, you wouldn’t have found yourself here. And hopefully you won’t again. I certainly hope you won’t again. I know you can do better.”

You were quiet, biting back tears. You thought you would be cuddling this morning, everything slowly falling back to normal.

He heard you sniffle and the sound of it elicited a soft sigh from him. “Princess, you can earn my trust back. I’m a reasonable man.”

“I said I was sorry,” you said tearfully.

“Oh, I know you did. And it was heartfelt. And you did so very well last night. I was impressed by you. Truly, baby. But I need to be sure you understand how serious I am that I don’t want you to repeat that. Ever.”

You asked weakly, “When are you coming back?”

“Tonight. I won’t leave you for long. And I’m going to bring you something. But you need to just sit tight. Be good for Happy.”

You did not answer because you were staring out the window, grinding your teeth.

“Princess?”

His voice snapped you back to reality and you got out, “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. By the way, I set up an appointment for you today, last minute. It’s a virtual meeting. Happy knows about it, he’ll help you. OB/GYN. F.R.I.D.A.Y will scan you, the baby, send it to her and she’ll correspond.”

“She’ll correspond with… F.R.I.D.A.Y?” you asked slowly.

“Just this one time. I promise we have a real appointment next week. I’ll be at every one after this and we will do it in person. Cross my heart.”

Your voice was small, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you later. Be good.”

“I will, daddy.”

He hung up and you pulled the phone away from your ear, staring down at it. He was acting weird. He acknowledged what had happened but moved so seamlessly into baby talk and appointments.

How were you going to relax knowing you were stuck in here?

<><><>

Five months ago…

The art show was boring and even more so for the afterpart of it. You had no desire to speak to anyone about it and they were all gathered in the large center room drinking wine and having finger foods. You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and you removed your underwear, tossing them into the trash bin before leaving to find Tony,

Tony was speaking to someone, sitting on a set of small chairs. The sight of you caught his attention and you put your finger to your lips. He only spared you a second’s confused look before looking back at the man. But his gaze found you again quickly, curiosity getting the better of him. Over the man’s shoulder, hidden from the rest of the room by the large plant, you opened the slit in your dress, showing Tony you were not wearing any underwear. He began to smile and hid it by his hand came to his mouth, it balling into a fist as he stared daggers at you. You gave him a wide, tantalizing grin, beginning to walk backwards towards the doorway to the adjacent hallway.

You left him sitting on the couch, dropping your dress. The hallway was empty, and you walked slowly down it, taking in the art.

It did not take long for you to hear footsteps behind you, and you looked over your shoulder finding a very hot and bothered Tony coming down towards you. He wasted no time pushing you into the corner at the turn in the hall, his hands snaking up your dress. You turned your head, giving a throaty laugh.

“Listen here… if you wanna come, you better look at me,” Tony husked.

“There’s people—”

“You started it.”

You nipped at his nose and he buried his face into your neck in return. He resumed pressing you into the wall, his fingers slipping in to work you up.

<><><>

Three months ago…

People were outside in the pool, drunk in the summer sun. You though, you were inside, sitting against the wall, pouting. Some of your old escort friends had shown up per request for the guests attending and told you they were planning a trip to Vancouver to do some shopping and ‘go out on the town’ in a few weekends. You had been excited about the prospect, you had not been out like that for a long time. When you had left the group though and leaned over Tony’s shoulder at the poker game to tell him about it, he had waved you off.

“You’re not going,” had been his exact words.

Instead of going back to the girls, you had gone inside, not wanting to tell them the bad news. At the inside bar, you had taken a couple of shots and made sure Tony saw you walk by the window. You tossed him a glare as you passed. Him and his stupid open shirt over his dumb swim trunks – that you had specifically picked out earlier this week when you were shopping – could get fucked right now for all you cared.

It was not too long before Tony appeared in front of you, peering down at you, looking ever piqued. He was not happy you were sulking.

“You know, you’re really bringing down my mood, princess. Glaring at me like that because I had the audacity to deny you one thing out of millions.”

“Then stop looking at me,” you retorted, avoiding his eyes, still staring off out towards the pool party.

You heard him scoff and he said, “Don’t even try to throw a tantrum right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just sitting here.”

“Looking like I killed your fucking dog.”

You merely shrugged aggressively in response.

He gestured out towards the patio doors. “You know they’re only going to get in trouble up there. And I don’t want you to get wrapped up in it.”

“So, you don’t trust me to be faithful,” you said finally making eye contact with him.

Tony held up a finger to you and corrected firmly, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands down beside you on the bench. “You don’t trust me!”

“Don’t try to make this into something that it’s not. I don’t trust them to keep you out of trouble,” Tony retorted. “You know how they are! You were – are – friends with them for fucks sake!” You opened your mouth to argue and he cut you off. “No, I’m done with this conversation. You know what I meant. I’m sorry that you are upset but there’s a reason I’m saying no to it. Now, either shape up and come back outside or go upstairs if you’re going to just glower at me.”

Clenching your jaw, you stood up angrily and stormed off away from him towards the upstairs.

You decided on a whim to leave, grabbing a swim suit cover and throwing some sandals on. Downstairs you ran into one of Tony’s guys and you stopped because of the way he was staring at you. You had wanted to leave without anyone noticing but seemed like that was not going to be the case.

His eyes ran over you, taking you in. “You alright?” he asked curiously, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, peachy. Have fun with your dumb poker game,” you spat at him before turning and walking to the front door.

You got into the car, turning it on angrily. You knew you should not be driving but you just did not want to be at home anymore. And Cassandra’s was not too far away, only twenty five minutes or so. You took off down the driveway, actually smirking of the look on his face when F.R.I.D.A.Y informed Tony you had left whenever he decided to check in on you. That should be awhile because he had been on a winning roll.

<><><>

He did not announce himself and you only realized he was home because F.R.I.D.A.Y came over the speaker in the living room informing you, “Dinner is ready in the kitchen.”

When you walked into the kitchen, he was a complete 180 from the night before. He walked up, giving you a kiss on the forehead, asking then sincerely, “How was your day?”

“Fine…” you said, trailing off, giving him a curious look at his nonchalant demeanor.

He brushed it off, grasping your hand and began to lead you to your plate he had set up on the island next to one for him. “That’s good, kitten. Here. I hope you’re hungry.” He immediately paused and said under his breath, “Fuck. Hold on.”

Tony walked off to the pantry and your eyes wandered to the counter. You looked down at the plate and saw it was the dish from your favorite date night restaurant. He did that on purpose, you thought immediately. To remind you he remembered things you liked. To get you something that you did like. It was like an apology, extending an olive branch. This is how he knew how to apologize, with gifts.

You waited patiently until he came back with a long lighter. He smiled at you, lighting the small candle on the counter in between your plates. “Just like at the restaurant.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the small touch.

“Sorry, it’s just sparkling cider,” he told you, gesturing at the glass in front of your plate. He held up his bourbon and took a swift drink.

“It’s fine, thanks,” you said, picking up your fork and taking a bite. You savored the taste, chewing slowly.

Silence fell over the table and the two of you ate, both staring down at your plates as you ate. There was something hanging in the air between you and you just wanted to know what.

You got your answer soon enough. Tony’s sigh was heavy as he dropped his fork to his plate. “You know… I do have to apologize.”

That caught your attention.

“I hate doing it. You know I do,” he said, giving a little nervous laugh. “Admitting I’m wrong. Goes against everything in my genes. But… I could—should have done better with aftercare. The bath was bare minimum. I know you need more. We talked about it. And I… I lost my temper. And that’s not fair of me when I’m in the position I am in.”

He had your rapt attention, you tracking his every word. What he said was not untrue – you two had had a conversation about aftercare, especially when it came to punishments. He seemed genuine in his apology.

Tony made eye contact with you, grasping your hand. “In the future, especially during your pregnancy—” He cut off. “And I looked at the report. Everything seems to be okay?” You nodded and he nodded in return, “Good. Good… I need to be more careful. I need to do better. So… I’m sorry.”

You chewed your lip, taking what he said in. He was waiting for you to respond, to say anything, his eyes desperately searching yours.

“I accept your apology,” you told him.

Tony was pleased, his frame relaxing immediately at your forgiveness. Your hand was brought to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re good. So good.” He stepped closer, and his free hand came to the side of your face, looking into your eyes deeply. “So, after dinner… maybe I can lotion you down?”

“The raspberry shea?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

Three words he always said but did not seem to follow through on.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25

[datawyrms]

Happy DannyMay everyone! i say while dropping this. For day one, Memories. sorta kinda sequel to this Half a Decade Late

He said he’d never hate them. Back when he thought it would only be a matter of time until he found a weakness, a flaw and squirmed free. He always had before. He didn’t like being captured, and he certainly didn’t like getting shoved into cages, but it was always temporary. A terrifying inconvenience. Something he’d shrug off eventually and forget. Lately he was starting to realize he’d forget that he ever considered thinking charitably. Just like all the other things he couldn’t quite remember.

They took everything. His freedom, his limbs, his skin, his voice. So many things he had the misfortune of learning he could recover from with enough time. Really broke the idea that anything about you was special. Did it matter that they ripped him open when the green slime he was made of would eventually cover the hole without even a sign of the pain it caused him? He just stopped caring. Ghosts didn’t feel pain. Maybe if he believed that enough, he wouldn’t need to feel it. Hurt was just a matter of perspective.

He was changing, apparently. The spectral copies of his human organs they stole over and over again stopped being perfect copies. Sloppy. Apparently his body was forgetting what the real ones were like. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been human anyway. That was fine. It was the only real way he could bother them now, being ‘less useful’. Obviously he didn’t need them that badly. He envied some of his fellow prisoners. They were just green inside. Nothing the vultures wanted, nothing for them to mutter and prod at while he struggled uselessly.

He didn’t really know why he still bothered to do that. It never worked. Some impulse. Just better than keeping still. He never really was a human, was he? Humans didn’t treat other humans like this. So he wasn’t one. So why did he ever think he was?

Tie was weird. Maybe having a soul made you act all funny. He’d been tempted to change her name, to no-mask or just face, but the words didn’t feel right, sort of caught on his tongue. Even when he didn’t have one sometimes! Tie just slid off easily. Like he’d said it a lot, or something like it.

So the newbie remained Tie. And Tie was weird. A good kind of weird? She didn’t just tell him to shut up, anyway. Most of them were boring like that. Though not getting shocked into unconsciousness did make the days tend to drag a bit more. She did make his head hurt sometimes, with all the weird reactions Tie made. It always passed though.

He kept playing with the lights up there so they would flicker and crackle, just to check if it was a Tie day. Sure, that got a good amount of shocks when it wasn’t Tie, but they were always grumpy after he’d lost a limb or two. It was almost amusing again. That was the word. Maybe?

“You don’t remember Amity at all?”

Frustration and anger that was directed at him, but also not. Tie was super strange like that. “Why would I?” His response just made her eyes narrow more, but she didn’t do anything to take it out on him. It was hilarious. 

“That’s where you’re from.”

“News to me.” Might be a lie, might not. Gun grunts said lots of weird stuff. He shifted position, watching her while upside down didn’t make it easier to tell if humans were lying or not, but did make her scowling funnier. “That’s where you’re from then? Or that other name you keep using.”

“You can’t actually be him. Fuck.” She was rubbing at her forehead, looking away at nothing. “You remember ghost hunters but not Amity Park?”

“Hey! Names are hard, Tie. Isn’t like you know the name of every town you’ve ever been in.”

“No, but I remember the one I lived in most of my life!”

“Good for you! I’d clap but I’m kinda under armed for the task.” Under armed. He snickered as she only rolled her eyes at his joke, but it only made him think of another one. “Isn’t like a ghost lives anywhere.”

“You’re in here for hell knows how long and you can’t get better jokes?!”

Tie’s irritation just made it funnier. “These are gold! Way better than the stuff you guys laugh at.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know.” The humour of the moment passed as he got back up, wondering if he should give the old ice trick another go. The noises were fun. “Like how the ghost won’t eat, but ghosts don’t breathe either. So the ghost can’t do much to stop ya.” As if Tie didn’t know. She still made the weird pinched expressions though. Why bother? It didn’t really matter if she actually had a soul still. Those ones just quit and then there’d be a new newbie. “Lots of you think that’s reaaaaal funny.” He stuck out his tongue, gagging. “Gross gun grunts.”

“That’s not funny either.”

“Try breaking your funny bone a few times. That’ll fix it. Or was that computers?” He frowned, rubbing his fingers against his chin. Computers. What was it about computers again? Re-re-something? Like with bones when you...did something…

“Phantom!”

That jerked him out of his considerations. “Still not him!” Now that he checked, Tie looked like she’d been trying to get his attention for awhile again. That, or she’d figured out how to teleport closer to his cage. Both were very possible. Probably. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you.”

“You were talking?”

“For someone who says he isn’t Phantom, it sure gets your attention fast.”

He shrugged. What did Tie expect? So what if he noticed it? It didn’t mean anything to him, personally. It was like comp-whatevers. “You could say the coats were coming and I’d do the same thing.”

“Doubt it. You remember Jack and Maddie maybe?” Tie hesitated, as if saying something to him actually mattered. “Your parents?”

“I’m a ghost. And possibly a starfish. Since I do the whole regenerating thing.” He’s pretty sure it’s starfish that do that. “I don’t think they’re big on families.” He thought that was pretty amusing, having like. Little voiceless things that cling to rocks as parents. Actually had a bit in common if you thought of his cage as a rock? Tie didn’t agree, based on how he was biting at her lip and clenching her fists. Still no shooting. Still super weird.

“Be a mercy killing at this point…” Tie wasn’t actually speaking to him, but it was interesting. Killing what? One of the other ghosts maybe. “Sam, Tucker? Any of them ring a bell?”

He certainly didn’t have a bell in here. “Sam...and Tucker are names?” He guessed, shuddering a little. Weird names. Made the gooey mess of ectoplasm he was made of wriggle when he said it. Like when he was struggling to digest something, uncomfortable and heavy and just making him want to move when he couldn’t. Though he could this time. Zipping up to the top of his cage helped shake the feeling off, at least. He wasn’t saying those again, no thank you. “You have weird tricks, Tie”

“They’re just names. I didn’t do anything to make you fly up there. I half thought you couldn’t do that anymore.”

Tie did have a bit of a point. When was the last time he’d flown up here? “Think I forgot I could?” He didn’t really move much in general. Not like he had anywhere to go, his cage didn’t really change.

She just looked tired. “This isn’t fixable.”

He wasn’t really paying attention, poking at the edges of his cage with his feet was pretty entertaining. It tingled a bit when he got pushed back, but flipping over in the air was easy. Why didn’t he float more? “Gun grunts don’t fix things, so Idonno why you care.”

Tie wasn’t paying much attention to him either, muttering to herself. “Manson would kill me for doing it. No way she’d believe you’re like this. Let alone the Fentons...”

Well, that was boring. He busied himself with counting how many seconds it took for the shock to stop coursing through him when he touched the walls. Though it was a bit tricky to keep track between tries.

“Skulker? Ember? You at least remember the ghosts, don’t you?”

“Are you just making names up now Tie?” They just sounded silly. The thought of someone named ‘Skulker’...who was also very tiny. Now that’d be funny. Kinda liked that idea actually.

“Probably don’t even remember the guy who put a million on your head…”

“A million whats? Questions? That’s more a you thing, Tie.”

“No, Vlad. The mayor?”

“The what?” Things weren’t funny anymore. He wasn’t cool and passive. That word, there’d been others but he didn’t even care what they’d been. The V had been enough to set his core to a furious pulsating heat of fury. His ice claws clung to the wall even as the buzzing in his skull grew stronger as the field tried to shove him back. “WHERE” He snared, not caring how his throat burned from the partial wail trying to scrabble out of his throat. Tie didn’t matter, nothing mattered and he actually missed his arm since not having it made it harder to keep his grip and snarl at the one backing away from his prison. “WHERE IS HE?” Oh he’d order anyone, and they’d listen or he’d shred them as soon as he got through- but his claws were cracking- green and red staining and corrupting the fine edge he’d honed so often. Why did he care? He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, he just had to act and now, just in case. The chance might slip away and he wouldn’t, they’d pay they’d pay, they’d PAY.

“Danny! Stop hurting yourself, he’s not here!” Tie was blathering, but at least backed away when he shrieked at her. Stupid Tie. Didn’t know anything. “Hell. You don’t even know why you’re mad, do you.”

He kept slamming the ice back in place, even as his arm weakened and started oozing. He didn’t need his legs, he didn’t need arms, he didn’t need anything. Just OUT. NOW. He snarled and snapped at the metal that grabbed his back and slammed him hard to the ground of his cage. It ignored him and the awful warmth that had consumed everything. He never won against it but now he had to keep trying because-because the anger? Because of something. The metal easily ignored the green surging pulses of electricity, just kept pressing down on him until he wasn’t solid enough to struggle, not strong enough to scream at it. The awful stabbing feeling in his core wanted him to act, but he couldn’t even defiantly flick his tail as he grew colder and slipped out of consciousness.

Everything hurt and it wasn’t even Friday. At least. He didn’t think it was? He’d have to ask Tie about it...if Tie showed up again. Something about her gave him a stab of unease. Might have something to do with all the green stains in here. Didn’t remember getting shot though. Strange. Must have done something. Maybe. Didn’t really matter.

[iatethepomegranate]

Just a fic about Caleb buying a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, and coping with that kind of change and newfound stability (and becoming Professor Widogast). Angst and fluff are at war in this fic.

Chapter Summary: Caleb was loved, in so many different ways, by so many people. The Nein were a whirlwind of chaos and dick jokes, but they were his. And Essek... even when Essek did not use the words "I love you", every word he said and every touch he offered was proof enough. In other words, the Mighty Nein crash at Caleb and Beauyasha's place and shower them with affection.

Notes: Chapter title is from Five by Sleeping at Last. Here's some fluff. Caleb is still Caleb, but everyone loves him and wants him to be happy. Hug your sad wizard friend/research partner/it's complicated.

****

Chapter 2: But something gets lost from a safe distance and now I can't put my mind to rest

There was enough furniture in the house to sleep for the night. After an enormous grocery shop that made gratuitous use of Yasha’s muscles, Beau’s superhuman balance, and Caleb’s telekinesis, the three of them collapsed on the couch.

Beau piled her feet onto Caleb’s lap, resting her head on Yasha’s. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“You good now?”

“I think so.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nein.” Caleb had zero interest in talking about how much he had cried on their kitchen table earlier. He wasn’t ready to process it.

“Cool. Good talk.”

Yasha smiled down at Beauregard, fondly but with an edge to it. “Shh.” She put her finger on Beau’s lips. “Let us just… be quiet for a while.”

Caleb tipped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He drifted close to sleep, but Essek’s voice filled his mind.

“Caleb. How was the house? I am in a safe place. I will visit when you have a safe landing spot. Talk soon, love.”

Caleb couldn’t help burst into a grin. “Hallo, Essek. We bought it. Veth gave me the money. Go to the Grove when ready. I will come get you. Ich liebe dich.”

“Gross,” said Beauregard. “You know I can understand you now, right?”

Caleb pinched her ankle. “I remember.”

“Beau,” sighed Yasha.

“I’m kidding. I’m happy you’ve worked things out with him.” She shifted, digging her heel into his thigh. “Look, I don’t give a fuck about your sex life--”

“Good.”

“--but you know you can tell me shit, right? It was just the two of you for weeks, and now it’s… not. Are you okay with that?”

Caleb sighed; he already missed Essek dearly, but he always knew it would be like this. “Ja. We talked about it a lot. We want to be together as much as we can, but we are practical people, ja? I will bring him around soon, for a few days at least. Rexxentrum is not safe for him.”

“Well, good thing you have your own space. I don’t wanna hear that shit.”

Caleb rolled his eyes at her. “We are more likely to stay up late talking.” Sex with Essek was more of a (great) side benefit than a core element of their relationship A relationship they had never bothered to define. It was what it needed to be in the moment.

“That’s even worse, Caleb.”

“How the fuck is that worse?”

Beauregard shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s fuckin’ romantic as shit.”

“Ja, I am sure that you, the woman who makes out with her girlfriend in front of all our friends, is disgusted by romance.”

Beauregard grumbled incoherently at him.

****

Caleb was soon preoccupied with ferrying the Mighty Nein to the new house. He first collected Veth, Fjord and Jester from Yussa’s tower. Kingsley had wanted to explore Nicodranas for a while, without Fjord and Jester’s supervision. They had tentatively allowed it, not that they could’ve stopped Kingsley even if they had wanted to.

“Omigosh it’s so pretty !” Jester screeched upon seeing the house. “The windows are kinda boring, though. Can I paint them?”

Caleb was not in the habit of refusing Jester anything. “I suppose. Ask Beau and Yasha.”

“Which door is theirs?”

“The right. It should be unlocked.”

Jester tore ahead and disappeared inside. Fjord hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, gazing up at the exterior.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” he said.

“Ja, the previous occupant is a professor at Soltryce Academy. She lives alone, and it was too much space for her.”

“You’re okay with that?” asked Veth.

“Ja, she was very nice. She lives on Astrid’s estate now.”

“Trent’s old place?” asked Fjord.

“Ja.”

He whistled softly. “That must be weird.”

Caleb didn’t want to talk about it. “The professor gave us a good deal. I am meeting her for coffee tomorrow to talk about Evocation.” He looked down at Veth. “Thank you for the money.”

“I just wish I could’ve given you more, Cay.”

“It was plenty, Veth.” Caleb led them inside and picked Veth up so he could give her the hug he had wanted for days.

******

Next, Caleb teleported to the Blooming Grove. The grass had grown back where it had once been burned, and the house had been repaired. The tangled residuum trees had held strong, keeping the corruption of the Savalirwood at bay. It was quiet, save for the distant clattering of dishes coming from the house.

Caduceus appeared in the doorway before Caleb had taken more than a few steps. “Oh, excellent. Essek’s in the garden. Go get him. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Caduceus didn’t specify where in the garden, but Caleb assumed he was giving him the satisfaction of figuring it out for himself. Caleb walked further into the grove, occasionally stopping to cradle a blossom or sniff a particularly sweet scent.

He spotted Essek’s broad-brimmed hat first. On loan from the Clays. Caleb approached quietly, watching Essek hover over the bed of a herb garden, wearing the rose gloves Jester had made him while he carefully pulled weeds with a look of utmost concentration. The kind of look that made Caleb remember how attractive it was to watch him work.

As Caleb drew closer, Essek froze. Looked up. Relaxed as his face broke into a smile.

“I am sorry I startled you,” Caleb said, closing the distance.

Essek floated away from the herbs and opened his arms, accepting Caleb into them. “It’s all right. You know I’m a little… jumpy these days.”

Caleb kissed his neck; Essek was taller than him when he floated, and only when he floated. “Are you sure you want to visit Rexxentrum?”

“No one will expect to find me there. It will be fine for a few days.” He kissed Caleb’s forehead, and then lifted Caleb’s chin to kiss his mouth. “I wanted to see your new house. And you.”

Caleb dropped his head to Essek’s shoulder, breathing him in. This was the only peaceful moment they would have all day. Essek tucked Caleb’s head under his chin and gave him a squeeze.

“Caleb, are you all right?”

Caleb laughed softly, remembering the first time Essek had asked him in the heat of battle. “I don’t know. This is a lot.”

Essek kept squeezing; they had both discovered one rough night in Aeor that Caleb found this kind of careful pressure extremely comforting. “I understand. This is a huge change for you. Are you overwhelmed?”

“Ja, very.”

“I hope having me there will help, for what little time I can give.”

“You are already helping, Essek. Danke.”

Essek kissed the top of his head. He had slowly begun to initiate more physical contact, and their time together alone in Aeor had accelerated the process. It let Caleb pull back a bit and let himself accept Essek’s affection once in a while instead of constantly being the one to initiate. It was good. They were good.

Fuck , Caleb had missed him.

****

After saying his hellos and goodbyes to the Clays, Caleb palmed a small stone Yasha had dug from the garden bed behind the house and teleported himself, Caduceus and a disguised Essek. They landed in Caleb’s currently sparse sitting area, as planned.

“This is my side of the house. We are working on the furniture situation.” Caleb took them on a quick tour of the house, and was pleased to find Essek equally excited by the possibilities of the study as he had been.

They then used the door on the middle floor to cross into the other side and down the stairs into the crowded sitting area. Yasha was sitting on the rug, stitching a thick floral fabric to make curtains while Jester “helped” by painting tiny dicks on it. Beau and Fjord were sitting on the couch, watching with a mix of amusement and concern. Veth had probably been with them, but launched herself at Caleb for a hug as soon as he had appeared.

She had more or less glued herself to him since she had arrived, evidently sensing his lack of equilibrium. He was grateful she was there to ground him. For a long time, she and Frumpkin had been all that held together the tattered shreds of his mental health.

Caduceus slipped into the kitchen, but was the least sneaky man alive when he wasn’t trying to prank his siblings. He had a parcel in his hands, brought from the Grove. Caleb followed him.

Caduceus carefully stripped off the brown paper packaging to reveal a small wooden crate, from which he lifted a tea set complete with a kettle. He filled the kettle with water and set it over the fireplace, directing Caleb to light it. Caduceus pulled out a few small boxes of tea and cooking herbs from the Grove, arranging them in cabinets.

“I’ll bring another set next time I visit,” Caduceus promised. “Until then, you are required to spend time with the ladies. No locking yourself in the study and forgetting to eat.”

Essek chuckled from the doorway, knowing full-well Caleb would do exactly that. Repeatedly.

“We’ll go shopping together tomorrow,” Caduceus continued. “There are some things you three need for a good, complete kitchen and I don’t trust you to remember any of them, even with your memory.”

“Thank you, Caduceus.” Caleb was getting emotional again. “I, uh, am having coffee with an Evocation professor tomorrow morning, but we can go after that.”

Caduceus smiled at him. Soft, knowing. “I look forward to it.”

****

The Nein had apparently agreed without Caleb’s knowledge that they would stay on Beau and Yasha’s side for the night to give Caleb and Essek some privacy.

Caleb had ultimately decided to use the larger bedroom (the rest of the Nein may have insisted he treat himself). He was glad for it now that he had Essek in his bed. They were too tired for sex, and not really in the mood, but cuddling is a lot more comfortable when you’re not afraid of falling out of bed.

Essek had arranged things so he was lying on his back with Caleb curled around him. Caleb rested his head on Essek’s chest, listening to the gentle drumming of his heart, while Essek drew lazy patterns on his back with a finger. Spell symbols, mainly. Some Caleb recognised, and some he didn’t.

“This is a good location,” Essek said quietly. “Beauregard showed me a map of the city. It is central, but not too close to anything that would upset you more than the city in general already does.”

“Rexxentrum doesn’t upset me,” Caleb mumbled, halfway to sleep already. He tended to sleep better with trusted company these days.

“Beauregard told me what you said the first time you stepped foot here in years,” Essek said softly.

I don’t know if I can do this. “That was some time ago. It’s… easier now.”

“That does not mean it is easy.”

Caleb sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “Okay. It’s not. But that’s not… the last time I had a house was the Xhorhouse, and we all knew that was never permanent. The only home I’ve ever had that was supposed to be long-term… I burned it. The shitty hospital room they kept me in for eleven year was a roof over my head, one I barely remember, and that was… not a home. I was homeless for a long time. I have slept in the woods, in the streets, under bridges, where I could find even the tiniest bit of shelter. Now I own a house .”

“Caleb, I told you in the Grove this is a huge change for you.” Essek’s voice was soft but firm, as it often was when he thought Caleb was being needlessly stubborn or foolish. “You have been through so much , and now you are doing normal things like buying a house and putting down roots. And you have many painful memories here. I believe you will be okay, but you do not have to be. Not before you’re ready.”

Caleb felt foolish for letting this get to him so much. The last few days had been full of nothing but good things. But he was exhausted nonetheless, and eternally a hair’s breadth away from tears. Even in his worst moments, he had never been fragile in this way,  like he was a bucket of water with a hole in it that would leak at the slightest provocation.

Essek pressed his palm down between Caleb’s shoulder blades, forcing him to exhale. “Caleb. Be gentle with yourself. Give yourself time.”

Caleb chucked a little, despite his mod. “That is your specialty.”

“And I have taught you well.”

“The best teacher I ever had,” Caleb said quietly.

“You deserved better. Let yourself have better now, in your own time.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. Stop pushing it. You know better than anyone it doesn’t work that way.” Essek’s hand slid into Caleb’s hair, cradling the base of his skull. “You of all people deserve patience and kindness, most of all from yourself. I will remind you of this.”

“Thank you.” Caleb pushed himself up on his elbows, finding Essek’s features in the dark. “You know, this is probably the safest I have been in close to twenty years.”

Essek reached up, tucking a strand of Caleb’s hand behind his ear. “Good. You deserve it. Even if I never have a moment’s peace for the rest of my life, all I want is for you to have all the safety and kindness you could ever need.”

“I would give it up in a heartbeat if I could help you.”

“I would never ask that of you,” Essek said warmly, but with a firm edge. “There are a great many things we have already given up. That one is not an option. Of all the people I have known in my 120 years, you deserve a lifetime of peace the most. Even if you will get bored eventually.”

Caleb slid a hand over Essek’s cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb. “Remember when we thought we would never be the kind of people who would make big declarations of love at each other?” Because even if Essek wasn’t explicitly saying I love you , the words he did say were dripping with diamonds of unadulterated affection.

Essek huffed a soft laugh. “Most things between us do not need to be said. This does.”

“Thank you, Essek. I love you too.” Caleb rested his head over Essek’s heart once again, and let the gentle rhythm lull him to sleep.

[engineer-in-space]

a simple call of the wild review that is totally professional and not way too detailed by me (February)

It's gonna be a bit of comparing to previous powerwolf albums/songs and remember everything is my own opinion. If you disagree/agree we may talk about it in a civilized way, I actually love talking to others about this shit!

But otherwise (hate, insults, etc.) you can keep your opinion somewhere where I can't see it :) Also, the album has barely been out for a day and things change with time and I may grow to like certain things more. (but there's not too much that I don't like tbh) But I hope you enjoy this metalhead-gremlin's ramblings!

Faster than the flame

I had to listen to it quite a few times before I could say anything about it. It's a powerful start into the new album, however, it is (as previously stated) powerful but didn't blow me away like the first songs on the previous albums. (Fire &forgive, Blessed &possessed, amen & attack - wait am I just now noticing a pattern here? oh my god. Anyway.) Maybe I got that personal feeling that I want it to be Fire & Forgive, which is, of course, not possible and would be boring. So i think I'm not even critizing the song but rather the order of the songs.

It feels like a typical powerwolf song; both lyrics and instrumental. Fast, heavy, something about flames and burning - awesome. The two Latin parts (I think it's called the pre-chorus? man, I have no idea and will just throw around these words because my internet connection is too bad to look this up. But if you listen, you'll know which parts I mean.) already give me goosebumps. I also really, really liked the bridge (again?? idk??) aka the "flame, flame, burning wild in heavens name" part. This was the most memorable part for me after the first time listening. Of course, the guitar arrangement throughout the whole song is just... god bless. I must say that using the word "pastor" is dangerous because my stupid brain keeps thinking Attila is singing about "pasta" again... Oh well, moving on!

Beast of Gevaudan

Man, I've been listening almost non-stop since it was released as a single! At first, my head was comparing it somewhat to army of the night but after a few times this feeling was gone and it became an awesome new idea/song. The choir and orchestra part are so well placed and support the rest of the instrumental and Attila's voice perfectly. Again, much fast, very powermetal. I've grown very fond of the guitar solo. The lyrics tell us a little about the story of the beast and I. Love. Storytelling. In. Songs. Glad matthew finally came around to put his idea out there!

This song also has a video, which left me speechless at first. I love Attila's acting so much??? And making this sort of their own story of Jesus was such a cool idea. Production is high quality as well (didn't expect anything less after The Sacrament of Sin MVs) and there were really nice shots in there. I doubt that I will get tired of this song and this video anytime soon!

Dancing with the dead

That choir stuff in the beginning, following by that awesome guitar riff already had me. I couldn't stop listening to this one either. This might be, in my opinion, the most catchy song on the whole album. The intruments are in perfect harmony with Attila's heavenly voice. The transition into the guitar solo is so damn smooth and well done. I'm having a whole crisis about how good this song is.

The lyrics are interesting too! Again, there's a story to be told. As far as I can interpret it, being introduced to some darker powers and growing to enjoy them, despite previously having lots of faith, is what's going on here. It has this slight feeling of... corruption (in a good way of course). This makes me want to go dancing (with the dead)

This one also has a video! Once again, very high quality. Every band member had their "special moments/shots" and just looked stunning. But Attila left them all behind this time. Slow dancing, in a suit, with that smirk on his lips??? Well done, my dude.

Varcolac

This one's dark and heavy. It brings me back to the good ol' times of Lupus Dei and Bible of the Beast. Just with more orchestra, choir and overall harmony. It makes me so happy that Powerwolf is using so many real life legends and figures on this album! And they did such a good job with them as well. If this song was alive, it would be a scary beast.

The typical metal elements and orchestra/choir parts are very well balanced. And the organ throughout the whole song is fitting. It supports the dark and sinister feeling of the whole thing. My favourite part may be the "And as army we bing fire..." parts! Man, I just love werewolves. Also, I think Attila's famous gibberish singing made a return in this one!

Alive or undead

Oh boy,here we go. The piano in this one is incredible. "Here we STAAAAAAND!" Goosebumps and shivers. Everything about this is so emotional andreading the lyrics while listening just makes me want to cry, ok?! T_T Powerwolf has become so flexible, exploring different ways to make music. This could have been some kind of typical powermetal song but it's not and I'm glad about it.

Even if it's a little different, they never stray to far from what makes them special. The few parts, reminding one of typical church music would not have been necessary but are appreciated! They know when to leave out the guitars and go slowly. What bothers me a little, is that it somehow feels like Attila's voice had a tiny bit more potential up to the chorus. It could've been a little bit softer? if i can put it that way. But honestly this song is raw emotion and everything still fits together. If you thought their first ballad was emotional, buckle up, this one kicked me right in the feels.

Blood for blood (Faoladh)

Powerwolf ventures again into the folk metal territory and successfully conquers it! Could be a headline of something. Anyway, this song is a very worthy successor of Incense & Iron! It just makes me happy, its melody is so light - combined with your typical Powerwolf lyrics. Perfect song to start jumping up and down! It radiates motivational energy. Just like Dancing with the dead, this song has a very smooth transition to the guitar parts.

The melody is strong but still easy enough to quickly get into it! I can barely sit still and write this aaaa. Seriously, I am just happy with this song and will go jump and headbang a while to it!

Glaubenskraft

I have returned from jumping and oh no. It's a German song. Bold of them to go all out on that Latin beginning... it works really well though! It might be because I'm German but this song hits hard. Very hard. It's not easy to make this language sound good and ( if you don't happen to know much about German) the lyrics consist of a bunch of old words and grammar you wouldn't normally use anymore. But they made it fucking work!!! The quiet verses only make the pre-chorus and chorus itself heavier and blow me away. And SOMEHOW this super epic song with (made up, at least I'm pretty sure they don't exist like that) Latin words is about.. you know what Powerwolf writes about a lot. And I LOVE that. It's so subtle and only if you read into it, you're like "wait a minute".

This song has a feeling of corruption too. But not in a good way this time. It feels evil and intimidating and - honestly, I can't get enough of it. Everyone of my neighbours will think I'm some kind of weird Christian fanatic because I WILL yell "Glaubenskraft" just as much as I yelled "Stossgebet". Worth it, tho.

Call of the wild

The song with the same title as the album! (or the other way around, whatever.) This song is just catchy from the beginning to the end. Like many other songs its fast and hard. Just how I like it. Don't take that out of context.

The lyrics and instruments go wild (haha get it), with a really neat Latin pre-chorus. It's very fun to listen to. Personally, it makes me feel like I belong to the pack. That we're strong together, that we can say fuck it once in a while and just go crazy. The chanted part near the end of the song reminds me strongly of Sanctified with dynamite (ya know "die, die dynamite" and "call, call, call of the wild") and it's really cool they pick up on old things once again. Be it intentional or not. It's a reminder that they still are who they were back then - and their music is still fucking incredible.

Simply an epic song, strong vocals, strong guitars. I really, really like the intro. Attila has to sing so many words in such little time, does he even need to breathe now and then?

Now I'm wondering what came first; the album title or the track title? Chicken or the egg?

Sermon of swords

First of all: WHAT IS THAT OMINOUS VOICE IN THE BEGINNING. Mark me down as horny and scared. Ahem.

I really like how the verse and the chorus have their own theme and melody going on and yet they're connected. The chorus is super catchy too! And just say it yourself "Sermon of swords", how cool does it sound??? The choir in the beginning is a really neat introduction into the whole song. The lyrics match the whole album, very much a soundtrack to go on a crusade to, like Raise your fist, Evangelist or Christ & Combat. Just... "AAMEEN!" Ok, I'm actually going insane here, calm down, Feb. These might be my favourite lyrics of the whole album I think?? (unless I said that somewhere else already, then i have more than one favourite.)

The whole song has a more "classical" feeling to it, not only in the Powerwolf sense but also in the Heavy Metal sense in general. BUT. Orchestra and choir are prefectly mixed, especially supporting Attila in the chorus. The guitar solo is really cool and sounds very Greywolf-y, if you know what I mean. It's just Matthew's style.

Undress to confess

The name of this song says it all. This is your friendly reminder that no matter how much they preach about Jesus or the Devil, Powerwolf should not be taken too seriously. When I first saw the title I couldn't help but chuckle a little.

The melody is pretty catchy and easy to remember, the organ and general approach reminds me of Demons are a girl's best friend. I absolutely love how the lyrics are on that thin line of somewhat poetic and ridiculous. Let me provide two examples here: "all the world we posess for desire and sin we carress" - man, this sounds pretty.

And there's also "dressed to hide the dark, and obsessed to ride him hard on the.... crucifix." Yeah, I... I don't know what I expected here. Anyway, this is how you describe church sex without actually using explicit words. (why are you booing me, i'm right)

Still really nice to listen to and have a good time!

Reverent of rats

We arrived at the last song of the album! And here we picked up on the speed and power again! The way the organ is played during the verses makes it so... sinister. Again, this piece reminds me of Lupus Dei. The verses keep the sinister feeling while the chorus picks up more... drama? An epic melody mixed with epic words make my soul ascend to heaven.

This guitar solo is also the absolute good shit. It might be my favourite from all the songs of this album?! Additionally, the drums? I don't know why but they really stand out here. Love how fast paced they are.

Aaaaand that's it! If you've read all the way through holy shit, you are actually a badass. Thank you for staying with me, my werewolf friend. Maybe we'll meet where the wild wolves have gone. But always remember: Metal is religion.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Watchers in the Shadows

Another plot important story, with the what I am terming the Shadowed Lords.  I have also found a solution to the very important question of “How to make sure the Inquisition just doesn’t murder everyone.”  I own none of these characters.  Enjoy.

“History requires two parties - the historian and their audience.  Without that, one is just talking to oneself.  So kindly stop screaming and you might learn something.” - Trazyn the Infinite, guiding human guests through the Prismatic Gallery

“It is our duty to protect those who are important to future events, those who might save the face of the galaxy, those chosen by prophecy - blah blah blah.  I’m just here to kill things.”  -Revenant

Aboard the Novus Galactica

The Watch Fortress was a miracle of human technology and ingenuity.  This particular one was mobile, a great boon for its occupants.  As soon as diplomats and Inquisitors were dispatched to these strange, newly found galaxies, it had been deemed by the High Lords of Terra that a permanent force of Throne Agents should be stationed in each.  Unfortunately for the Imperium of Man, and, perhaps fortunately for everyone else, they were currently only able to transfer a small amount of the resources they wanted to one singular galaxy.  At the moment.  The time would come when they would fully operate there, the agents of the Imperium hiding in every shadow, behind every crevice, always watching, always waiting.  The fight against the xeno, mutaint, and heretic never ended, after all, and these new galaxies provided ample examples of each.  

The newly anointed Lady Inquisitor Amberley Vail stood on the tiled stone floor of the Watch Fortress, looking out high cathedral windows into the black void of space.  Inquisitors were all technically equals, though in practice some were more equal than others.  Senior and powerful Inquisitors were given the honorary prefix Lord or Lady to denote that they were, in fact, just a little more equal than their peers.  Since she had been the first to discover, and make contact with these eight new galaxies, it would be her duty to oversee all investigations in them.  A great honor.  

At the time, though, Vail would just be investigating each one in turn until more Inquisitors could be spared.  Already she was given her choice in team, and her retinue was here, with more hand-picked agents to come.  And, of course, the operatives the High Lords and Ordo Xenos had seen fit to give her.  With the technology found in these new places, she could now contact the High Lords directly, if necessary, and they could monitor her progress.  As such, they had seen it fit to grant the Watch Fortress a cadre of Officio Assassinorum operatives, one from each Temple.  They were in cryo storage below, except the Vanus operative, currently hard at work gathering every scrap of data she could.  

Should she require pure power instead of singular agents, a Kill Team of the dreaded Deathwatch was on hand.  They were newly formed and called up, but each member was hand-chosen by the Inquisition, and, if rumors were to be believed, the Custodian Guard themselves.  Right now, they were settling into their new home, their weapons drills already ringing through the training spaces.  The Kill Team also served a second, more sinister purpose: if Vail was to go rogue for whatever reason, they had orders to hunt her down and destroy her.  She harbored no illusions of their ability, and, of course, had no intention of turning traitor.  Better had fallen than her, though, so she did appreciate the contingency.  

At the moment, more Marine heavy weaponry and armored vehicles were on the way, along with a regiment of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers.  More things to be added to the armory of the Imperium in this new galaxy.  

Vail paced, then went to her cognator, located next to the Vanus operative, still absorbed in her work.  She sat down, and began to type.  Secrets would be revealed, and the Inquisition would act upon them.

Unknown Location

The room was dark, as it always was, only illuminated by the blinding glory of a nearby star.  No one came here, no one knew of its existence except two organizations.  Two organizations that almost none knew of.  A massive man, power armored bulk hidden by a simple white robe, sword strapped on to his chest, stood side by side with another individual clad in black armor and greatcoat.  A tight fitting black helmet with glowing red lenses covered the second’s face, and as it spoke, the voice that emanated from within was corrupted and rendered untraceable.

“We must begin.  Our list is complete.”

“Unorthodox, yes, but it must be this way,” spoke the second, a reverberating deep base echoing from beneath he white hood.  “What of Inquisitor Vail?  Should she find… certain things, it would not bode well for our plans.” 

“I am handling it as we speak.  Drake shows promise.  It was good to act that quickly, but in the end, the Shadow Broker, the Mechanicus, the Inquisition, the Scoundrels, ONI, the ISB… none of them are good enough to face us.  Vail will hear no word of it.  Stability will be preserved.  Just as we must preserve the Scoundrels themselves.”

“Indeed.  It must be restated: they are key to future events.  I suggest we get moving.”  With a nod to each other, the two figures disappeared into the shadows.

Unknown Planet

The ground was icy and cold, some dead world in the middle of nowhere.  It didn’t even have a name, so remote it had never been discovered.  Of course, there were those who could find it, should they really wish to.  One such individual stood here, examining strange patterns in the snow.  Well-groomed black hair tumbled down to his shoulders, held in place by a circlet of gold.  Despite the bone-numbing cold, the man did not shiver, black and green tunic still in the frigid air.   A heavy crack of displaced air sounded behind him, and the black haired man turned around, smiling softly to himself. 

“Ah.  Can I help you?” he said in a polite and cultured voice.  The two figures, one massive and wearing a white robe, the other of medium height and wearing a black coat, stepped forward.  The black haired man stood, noting the weapons, the size, the strangeness of these newcomers.

“Loki of Asgard.  We have need of your skills,” responded a metallic and synthesized voice from the black coated silhouette’s mask.  This elicited a small, oh-so-sly smile from the black haired man.  

“Yes.  I’m sure a great many people do.  What’s in it for me?”

“Name your price,” came a deep, reverberating voice.  Loki thought quietly to himself, then spoke.

“Done,” replied the tall figure.  

“Now, what do you need me for?” asked Loki.

Hammond Robotics Lab-77431

A metallic abomination of red and grey stood above Dr. Marshall.  It was humanoid, but all metal; unnaturally tall and spindly.  He squirmed quietly, inching away from it on the cold surface of the laboratory floor.  Blood was splattered messily over the surface of computer banks and grey plastic workstations.  Marshall silently prayed that the guards were on their way.  He had just enough time to press the panic button as the… thing slaughtered the two guards and his three colleagues.  Now it stood over him, head tilted at an unnatural angle.  

“No one is coming to save you.  No one ever was.”  It’s voice was horrible, gravely, and grating.  Marshall whimpered.  It spoke again.  “You can beg for mercy.  It won’t help, but go on.”

“Please… please.  I don’t even know what you are!  Why would you want to kill me?”  The thing snarled and pinned Marshall to the wall with one metallic hand.  

“You made me a killing machine.  Who am I to argue with programming?”  The abomination’s synthetic eyes seemed to glow.  “Look into my eyes.  I want to remember this.”  

“No!  NO!  No-”  The begging cut out with a horrifying, gurgling scream as the thing ripped out his throat.  It gave a malicious laugh.  A new voice spoke.  

“Revenant.”  It was a statement.  “We have need of your services.”  Revenant turned around with a snarl, only to find himself face to face with three of the most odd individuals he’d ever seen.  A smooth faced, black haired man in a green and black surcoat, smirking at him.  A figure in a black coat and black armor, it’s face hidden behind a mask with glowing red lenses.  A giant, wearing a white robe, with a sword strapped to its back, its face hidden behind the robe’s cowl.  

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand?” sneered Revenant.  

“If you can, which I doubt,” replied the black haired man.  The figure in the coat held up a gauntleted hand.  

“We have need of your services,” it repeated.  “As payment, we can fix you or kill you.  Your choice.  But you must do as we say.”  Revenant seemed to consider the deal.  

“Done,” he replied eventually.  

“Good.  Now, there’s work to be done.”  

Star Wars Galaxy

Belsavis

Imperial Outpost Planet

The New Republic had, in its infinite wisdom, sent a team of commandos to capture a small Imperial outpost planet in the middle of smack-dab nowhere.  Sargent Underwilth was quite displeased by this, as had the entirety of the rest of her commando group, from Private Nikeer all the way up to the Captain.  It would be a long, boring, and completely useless mission, and for what purpose?  Grab a completely insignificant Imperial fort that could house a battalion and a group of shuttles at the absolute maximum?  Why?  Send soldiers to die for that?  She hated High Command for it.  Hate-d.  Past tense.  At the present moment, she was cursing the name of every single New Republic official she could remember, from the major who had briefed them to Princess Leia herself.  Saying things had gotten a bit out of hand would be the understatement of the millenia.  

“I need fire at 1-2-7-4!  Immediate effect, whatever you’ve got!” screamed the comms chatter.  The Imperial stormtroopers crouched next to her looked warily in the direction of the lieutenant whose scream was cut short over the comms.  Captain Pai, the commando leader, was dead.  Major Vekk, commander of the Imperial garrison, was now in charge of both the stormtrooper and commando contingent.  Underwilth had never thought she would be fighting side by side with stormtroopers.  They were terrible shots and propaganda-fueled idiots, holding on to the crumbling remnants of a tyrant.  Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures.  She nodded at her mixed group of Republic and Imperial soldiery, and, as one, they stepped over the ledge of the wall they were crouched behind.  A withering storm of blaster bolts rent the air, many going wide as their users panicked.  It was enough though.  

The bolts slammed into the metal abomination, many ricocheting harmlessly off its bones with high pitched pings!  Underwilth had no idea what these things were, or why they were here.  The commando team had landed, everything going well, and had infiltrated the fortress, only for an army of metal skeletons to show up.  They were spindly and humanoid in appearance, with elongated skulls and arms much thinner than a human.  Their odd appearance didn’t matter, though.  Horrible weapons had rotated, spitting sickly green beams of light at the now combined defenders.  Everything that was touched by those beams died.  Captain Pai was disintegrated where he stood.  Atomized without a sound.  

The defenders had fought back with everything in their arsenal.  Blasters didn’t work.  Grenades didn’t work.  Cryo bombs didn’t work.  Only massive, coordinated firepower would stop these undying invaders. 

Scorch marks appeared on the metal skeleton that Underwilth’s group drowned in fire.  More and more blaster bolts found their mark, staggering it.  Underwilth screamed at them to keep firing.  Eventually, slowly, it toppled into the dirt.  Underwilth’s group let out a great cheer.  It died in their throats when they saw what was happening.  The metal abomination, light faded from its eyes and limbs blown off, glowed with the same sickly green light as its eyes and weapons.  Limbs reattached themselves.  Blaster pockmarks faded.  Internal wiring affixed itself.  It stood, and glowing green eyes snapped on once more.  

Beneath the Surface of Belsavis

Trazyn the Infinite, Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, Archoevist of Solomance, and Curator of the Prismatic Galleries walked through the underground tomb complex covered by the Imperial outpost.  He had come to... acquire the artifacts, weapons, and species in the tomb underneath.  Unfortunately, a group of the idiotic humans that inhabited this galaxy had decided to build a fortress right on top of it.  He didn’t even spend the processing power wondering about the humans.  Mere insects.  His soldiers were there to defend his archaeological expedition, and if the humans wanted to attack them, well, that was their problem.  

Trazyn was, quite frankly, disappointed over this particular galaxy.  It wasn’t that there weren’t ancient and important treasures to plunder: no, far from it.  The things he could find here almost rivaled his own galaxy.  Almost.  It wasn’t that.  

It was that the people of this place had absolutely zero appreciation for history.  It was utterly infuriating.  Trazyn was the historian.  The lives of entire species meant nothing to him.  He was as old as the stars themselves, able to see eons as they stretched out in front of him.  The reason he did any of this in the first place was to preserve history before time or battle erased it.  His entire planet was one massive museum, with exhibits stretching back some 60 billion years before the planet Earth even existed.  But these people?  They didn’t teach history.  Didn’t preserve history.  To borrow a human expression, didn’t give one singular, flying fuck about it.  His mind frowned in distaste over the crude word.  It was nevertheless true.  The inhabitants of this place had merely forgotten the Old Republic, the government that ruled the galaxy only thirty years ago.  The Jedi Knights were myths.  The Clone Wars were bedtime legends.  Trazyn ground his metal teeth in frustration.  Thirty years.  That was a microsecond.  That was about the time a standard Necron court case lasted.  Even the humans, short-lived insects that they were, should remember that long.  After all, they usually lived between sixty to a hundred, did they not?  Simply no respect for the past here.  

The other galaxies were not like this.  The humans of one galaxy even remembered events some two thousand years prior.  That galaxy was the one with the Makers.  A battle between gods and demons.  He had already been to a Maker lab, and taken the dark artifact from the homeworld of the Celzex.  Along with half the guard on duty at the time.  And the throne.  They wouldn’t miss it.  Probably.  

He was getting off track.  Despite the idiots of this place not knowing what it was, this place was magnificent.  The architecture, the stone, the instriptions and technology… oh, yes.  If Trazyn had still possessed a mortal body, he would be grinning like a buffoon now.  He wanted everything.  

The tomb had once belonged to the Rakata Infinite Empire.  He sneered at the name. 

“There can only be one Infinite, and only one Infinite Empire.  And you, my friends, are no longer among the living,” he told a statue.  The Empire had, at its apex, controlled a great deal of the galaxy and possessed technologies and ancient wonders not seen since.  An entire species, called the Esh-Ka, had been trapped here in status for nigh thirty millenia by the ancient Rakata.  Nothing compared to Trazyn, but he appreciated the gesture of the long dead civilization nonetheless.  Ancient Rakata warlords, soldiers, status, glyphs, tablets, weapons, enemies, technology… everything.  This was a prison world, and the Rakata built it to last.  Now, though… now it was Trazyn’s time to shine.  He took everything he could, the walls and massive scripts cut away by his personal bodyguard.  Everything went into tesseract labyrinths.  These were small black cubes, about the size of Trazyn’s fist.  They pulsed with darkness, ever wishing to suck things into their voids.  These cubes were gateways to pocket dimensions, and Trazyn had long used them to capture specimens from his museum.  

He hummed as he worked, nearly giddy with excitement.  If there had been any watchers, they would have found the sight of the ancient necron lord almost dancing with exhilaration to be quite funny.  As he loaded the last of the Rakata imprisoned within the tomb, there was a flash of green light behind him.  It’s coloration was similar to the eyes and weaponry of the necrons, yet only the discharge of his bodyguards’ gauss flayers could have made such a sight, and Trazyn knew for a fact none of them had.  He whirled around, only to be met with a very strange sight.  

Four individuals stood between him and his guards.  One was obviously a synthetic, tall and spindly with red and grey limbs.  This one glowered mechnicgly at Trazyn, but he laughed it off.  You didn’t know a good glower until you’ve stood on the wrong side of a Star God.  The second was human, smirking from behind shoulder length black hair and a black and green tunic.  The third waas masked, armored, and coated, and stood at simple attention, unbothered by the necrons that lowered their gauss flayers at its back.  The last, though…

“Lord Cypher,” said Trazyn with a bow.  The massive man in white noticeably stiffened.  “A pleasure to have you here.  Ah, yes.  I know who you are, of course.  Don’t be surprised.  You would make a fine addition to my collection,” he mused.  Trazyn looked up, noticeably more perky.  “Is that why you’re here?  Have you come to give yourself up?  Ready to be a part of history?”  The massive man, Cypher, glared at him.  

“We have need of your help, Lord Trazyn.  After you are…” he looked around, noticing the completely empty walls of the tomb, “Done here, we wish to speak with you.  Your… expertise is necessary.”  Trazyn grinned, the necrodermis teeth of his death mask coming together.  A necron grinning was a very bizarre sight.  

“Ah, you flatter me, Lord Cypher.  And from one who has bedeviled the Imperium for ten thousand years and fought the Deceiver himself, such flattery is most appreciated.  However,” Trazyn gestured around, “As you can see, my work consumes me.  I’m afraid history stops for no one.  Except you.”  He held out a tesseract labyrinth, his voice flowing with mischief.

“Wait!” replied Cypher.  “We have need of your help,” he repeated.  “If you do not join us, then events will transpire that will result in the eventual destruction of reality,” he stated calmly, as if he were simply talking about the weather.  “It might not happen now, or later, or even in a century, or millenia, but I know for certain it will happen.  Everything you hold dear, everything you have worked so hard for over these billions of years, will be gone.  If you help us, we will most likely succeed, and in payment we will offer to you the greatest treasures in the universe.”  Cypher held out a hand.  “So what say you, Trazyn the Infinite?  Are you ready to change history for once, instead of just cataloging it?”  Trazyn pondered a moment, his neural circuitries firing faster than any mortal could keep up.  Eventually, he took the hand.

“I accept.”

And there we are.  I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, questions, or requests, feel free to contact me!  Wherever you are, have a great day!

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Hypothetically,

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum. 

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. 

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful. 

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit). 

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door. 

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him. 

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. 

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile. 

“Ta-da! What do you need?” 

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long. 

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.” 

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly. 

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms. 

“Whoah, what the fuck?!” 

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested. 

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice. 

 It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room. 

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously. 

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock. 

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side. 

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically. 

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction. 

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door. 

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile. 

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.” 

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape. 

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact. 

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.” 

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.” 

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary. 

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

 At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic. 

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness. 

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun. 

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning! 

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system. 

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired. 

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time. 

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work. 

Logan’s deliberation was brief. 

“I will.”

 As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him. 

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.” 

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question. 

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.  

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!” 

Oh. 

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh. 

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it? 

Logan felt light-headed. 

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship. 

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?” 

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door. 

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?” 

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once. 

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together. 

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it? 

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice. 

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar. 

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of. 

 So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development. 

But then there was Roman. 

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding. 

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!” 

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it. 

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow. 

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking. 

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing. 

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together. 

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis. 

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to. 

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks. 

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency. 

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances. 

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated. 

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction. 

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality. 

The issue would likely resolve itself.

 The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more. 

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous. 

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!” 

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly. 

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!” 

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one. 

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening. 

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?” 

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it? 

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side? 

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will. 

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well. 

Except. Feelings. 

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage. 

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration. 

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.” 

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away. 

Physical affection, check. 

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you. 

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight. 

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say. 

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt. 

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-” 

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology. 

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly. 

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder. 

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it. 

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place. 

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight. 

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

 Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company. 

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly. 

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly. 

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. 

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second. 

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.” 

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again. 

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 1 [NSFW/18+]

Chapter 2 ->

Summary:  You can’t stand Frederick Chilton, but after he’s tortured and left scarred by a former patient, you are afflicted by an irrepressible desire to get him in bed.

This has been posted on AO3 for awhile, but I thought I’d post the chapters here! (Took the liberty of fleshing out the short smut a wee bit.)

2,380 words

Dr. Frederick Chilton was arrogant and unpleasant.

Everyone thought so, but most would dance around their hostility toward him with subtle digs couched in polite conversation. Not you. You weren’t shy about saying it to his face.

As he exited the courtroom doors, Dr. Chilton saw you waiting in the hall to ambush him, and braced himself for another soapbox diatribe. 

Such a shame, he thought. He recalled how he had tried to make a good impression when you first met, but all his charm kept backfiring, and now you patently despised him. His failure to curry favor was nothing out of the ordinary, but unfortunately, he still had to deal with you. You were one of Crawford’s lackeys, and had made yourself inescapable since Will Graham’s arrest.

“You conniving, idiotic, condescending weasel!” you exploded upon the man with an expensive suit and gaudy cane. “How could you get on the stand and make that bullshit testimony? You don’t know anything about Will!” You withheld the fuck-you’s that time, out of professional courtesy.

He brushed you off and continued walking briskly down the hall, cane tapping on the polished floor, but you followed and walked alongside him.

“Do I need a restraining order against you?” Dr. Chilton said, bored.

You crossed your arms. “Oh, hah-hah.”

“What is it, then?” he sighed, slowing down. Trying to outpace you was more trouble than it was worth, thanks to the pinching of scar tissue in every stride. “I am extremely busy.”

“‘The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes, because that man is a fiction,’” you quoted his testimony.

“Correct. Is that all?”

“Did you ever consider it’s because he didn’t commit those crimes? You know, being the only one who thinks Will is a psychopath doesn’t make you a genius, it makes you an idiot. Or do you know that, but you’ve just been pining have him locked up so you can study him?”

“Incredible. Mr. Graham has found a truly gullible fool to place under his thumb. I have never met anyone so susceptible to his manipulations. Have you ever been tested for personality disorders?” He regarded you like you were a lab rat with a lot of audacity to be squeaking at him (though to be fair, that was how he looked at almost everybody).

You burned to keep arguing, but he walked down the courthouse steps and got into an obtrusively fancy classic car. Your heart was racing. You weren’t finished with him.

  *****

You seemed to be the only sane person aware that the sweet, empathetic, dog-loving Will Graham was obviously being framed, and did your best to visit him as often as possible at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Unfortunately, that meant dealing with its chief of staff.

Every time you visited Will, you ended up clashing with that pompous buffoon and his perfectly coiffed hair. He was notorious for his unethical practices, but since rich white assholes were incapable of being fired, it was your self-appointed job to protect Will from him.

Though, recently, you had to admit two things.

One: you may have been the tiniest bit biased by your fondness for Will, and two: your feelings toward Dr. Chilton had been softening.

Not long ago, Chilton had barely survived being tortured by a former patient, Abel Gideon. The sight of him on a medical gurney cradling his own internal organs in his arms was a horror that would be burned into your brain for life. He may have been an incompetent jerk whom Gideon had every right to want revenge on, but he didn’t deserve that.

You didn’t think he would survive, but in a few weeks, like magic, he was back to play Will’s jailer, a cane in hand but no other sign of the trauma he endured.

Too little sign of the trauma he endured, honestly. After all, he was only hurt because of his own meddling—using psychic driving to convince Gideon he was the Chesapeake Ripper in order to achieve the fame and glory of having treated the Chesapeake Ripper.

But no, he was still bursting full of egotistical remarks and ambition, if a little short on organs.

“I see the experience hasn’t humbled you one bit,” you commented upon his return, when he gloated about the accolades he would receive after writing a book about Will Graham.

“Funny, it almost sounds like you wanted me to be gutted,” he retorted in a pleasantly upbeat voice with a sharp undercurrent.

His rich-boy superiority complex did make it tempting to punch him in the face… but disembowelment was going too far.

Something changed after that. It used to be that you couldn’t wait to get away from him, but now you found yourself wanting to stay and fight longer, your cheeks burning with indignation. Days you weren’t visiting Will, you went to the mental hospital to crusade against Dr. Chilton over ethics and his lack thereof, just for the excuse to see him. 

The two of you exchanged cutting banter the same as always, but you found yourself being more civil... or, at least, your heated arguments felt more playful. Sure, you still called him a dirty slimeball, but now it was a friendly roast and not because you hated his (slightly damaged) guts.  

It was strange. Every time you argued your heart would pound against your chest in anticipation, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Your breaking point came when you barged into his office and discovered him spying on patients’ private conversations with visitors—headphones on, feet up on his desk, holding a Montblanc fountain pen in his mouth and swirling it with his tongue.

He didn’t startle at your unexpected entrance, as a person who feels shame might do when caught in the middle of something so sleazy. He was completely unrepentant about it. Sliding a headphone off one ear and picking up a glass of top-shelf scotch from his desk, he took a slow sip, and smugly asked, “Can I help you?”

What could you say to that? You felt your face heating up, so you turned on your heel without a word, and left. You finally understood what you had been feeling.  

You always took him for a coward—the type who runs crying to mommy the moment his knee gets scraped. But he’d been tortured, brutally, and still wasn’t running away. He got more than what was coming to him, but he didn’t change his manipulative psychiatric practices or grating personality at all.

As infuriating as it was… his resilience was sexy.

Like a switch was flipped, every time you sniped insults at each other, instead of picturing strangling him with his tie, you imagined blindfolding him with it, tying him to a bed and spanking him with his cane. He had the cutest way of shimmying his shoulders when he was trying to be coy about a secret, and that smarmy little crooked smile he made when he thought he was winning used to infuriate you, but now it caused an aching between your thighs. 

After weeks of this, he cornered you in an empty hallway. “Do not think I haven’t noticed you are here far more often than you need to be. You didn’t even talk to Will Graham the last two occasions you paid a visit. What is it, then? What’s your angle? Keeping an eye on me for Crawford?”

“Isn’t it obvious?,” you scoffed. “I want to fuck you.”

“Huh,” he vocalized with detachment.

You’d expected him to be flustered by the bold declaration, or to jump on you immediately. Not to coldly look you up and down like you’d handed him a strange puzzle piece to analyze.

It must have been a long time since he’d been intimate, considering his reputation as a Grade A piece of shit. But apparently he wasn’t that desperate.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure what his orientation was. You may have been completely off base.

“Fascinating, really. For someone who called me… what was it? A ‘morally corrupt assclown,’ you must be in a dire state to consider propositioning me. You know, as a respected psychiatrist, I can recommend some literature on sexual dysfunctions.”

A cold, satisfied smile spread over his thin lips and you realized if your attraction was one-sided, he held all the cards. You made the mistake of delivering him a massive advantage over you, and you were going to make a fool of yourself. He was relishing the power.

There was still time to backtrack on the vulnerability you’d accidentally exposed while he was still trying to figure out if you were joking. But you were around profilers, psychiatrists, and investigators with hidden agendas all day, and you grew weary of conversations having ten layers of meaning and obfuscation.

The honest truth was, it would be nice to get laid.

“Well? Are you interested or not?” You dropped your voice and stepped closer to him, inches from his face. He smelled so clean, like hospital antiseptic and spicy aftershave. His breath hitched as your leg brushed the inside of his thigh—that’s it, that was the reaction you wanted. “Do you want to fuck me, Dr. Chilton?”

Oh, he did.

A barely audible whine rose from the back of his throat, and his hands were around your waist. “I suppose so,” he said, still a little too clinically, though a hard bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed him. His eyes met yours. They were the color of an ocean wave crashing on the beach; an honest, North Atlantic wave that you might find at Chesapeake Bay—not some perfect crystal-blue wave from a tropical paradise. “It couldn’t hurt to let off some steam.”

“Precisely,” you nodded. Just two adults doing the logical thing. That’s right. No squishy vulnerable feelings that could be used against you. Just relieving tension.

He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you hastily into the nearest unoccupied space. The door to the cramped supply closet clicked shut, and he leered at you with eyes that seemed to glow with hunger in the dark. You felt pleasantly like a small animal trapped with a wolf about to be devoured. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine and sent heat rushing between your thighs. Before you knew it you were flipped standing with him pressed against your back, pumping into you with muffled moans—as frenzied with desperation as you’d fantasized he would be—as you braced against a metal shelf crammed with pens and packs of post-it notes.

He was strong. You had expected his suit to hide the flaccid body of a sedentary academic, fragranced of old books, but when he pulled your hips into his your body moved.

After finishing inside you with a ragged, tortured breath (barely choking back a too-vulnerable moan), he hastily zipped himself back into his pants and left you to clean yourself up on your own, without so much as a nod to ceremony or pleasantries. That was the end of that, you figured—exactly what you asked for, no more no less. Little did you know, Dr. Chilton had no intention of leaving things off at one quickie in a closet.

Before you left, he pulled you into his office and provoked you with lewd remarks about fucking you on his desk—so you knocked the clutter off it onto the floor to make room. He shrieked like a toddler as his very important papers and very expensive office décor went flying, having neither thought through the actual consequences of desk-sex nor expected you to call his bluff. His beautiful seawater eyes went wide as you pushed him back on the broad mahogany surface and climbed on top of him. Then you were riding him, chasing your climax with his well-manicured hands kneading your ass cheeks, pulling you deeper and deeper with each stroke of your hips. And still you wanted more. You wanted to fuck him into next week.

And then you were in his unreasonably lavish home, in his unreasonably, decadently oversized bed, his mouth feverishly working your heat, and you repaying him by making him come over and over until it was torture, until he could no longer hold back the whimpering sobs of pleasure as he fell apart, and he passed out from fatigue. You collapsed next to him on the bed, panting, sweating, and shaking with over-stimulation.

For a moment you considered the snoring body of an unsavory man you had exhausted into submission, lying naked and leaking fluids onto two-thousand-thread-count sheets, and briefly considered calling a cab. Then you went to the bathroom for a towel to wipe him off before curling yourself around him under the covers.

  *****

Morning found you nestling in his soft light brown chest hair, tracing your fingers along the raised red scar that divided a third of his torso like an autopsied cadaver. He flinched a little when you touched it, but remained impassive. A reservoir of sympathy swelled up within you.

“You pity me. That is why you wanted to sleep with me all of a sudden,” he said, deciphering the meaning of your look. “I’m not complaining. Apparently, to be fortunate in bed requires only that one be tragically disfigured. You are drawn to wounded birds.”

The corner of your lip screwed up like you swallowed something bitter. It’s… probably not healthy to desire someone purely out of pity, but he was right. You never felt anything for him until you felt sorry for him. But that wasn’t all there was to your relationship… was it?

“The instinct to nurture and the instinct to hurt are both strong human emotions. They’re primal,” you speculated.

“Trying your hand at psychoanalysis? I would leave it to the professionals, darling.”

“Would you?” You tilted your head innocently. “Then how come you’re still practicing?”

He clutched his chest and feigned being wounded.

Grinning, you buried your face back into his hair. “Arguing with you was always exciting… trying to land a stinging blow. Now I see you hurt, and I feel the need to protect you, too. You tickle my instincts, I suppose. Like cold ice cream on hot pie. What can I say?”

“Hmm, a plausible hypothesis,” he nodded idly at the ceiling, one brow lifted. “I’m not sure that that is any better, but as previously mentioned, your motivations are not of particular interest to me.”

“Charming. Let me phrase it another way, then: You have a very punchable face, but since you’ve already been eviscerated, it takes the fun out of it.”

“Well, and I was going to offer you breakfast…”

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 2)

This is the second chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Feel free to write comments in the tags or send me messages about this. I love feedback!

16 and 14 years old

Pidge Gunderson. I am Pidge Gunderson.

Katie looked herself in the mirror, trying to convince her brain that the image reflected was hers, that it was a boy, with no previous links to the Garrison, someone who had wanted to go into Communications.

It didn’t really work. All she saw was Matt: his glasses; his short, unkempt haircut; his nickname for her.

Maybe it was better like this. Katie had initially meant to immerse herself in this new identity, to go so deep into Pidge Gunderson that no one would be able to see past the cover, but the truth still kept slipping through her defenses. Katie was a Holt and her family was missing, so she was gonna find them. Pidge was just a tool.

It would be easier if there weren’t so many risks in studying at the Garrison.

Her father hadn’t brought her around often, but Katie had become infamous among the night-time security for her excursions to discover sensitive information regarding the Kerberos mission. Iverson, in particular, was probably expecting a new advance on her part.

He hadn’t recognized her, yet.

Sometimes Katie worried that she’d already been exposed and that they were just gathering evidence before actually making a move against her. If the Garrison was willing to lie about her father’s and brother’s deaths, then she couldn’t overlook the possibility that corruption ran deep within the organization.

She sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair.

“Come on, Gunderson!” she heard someone shout from outside her door. “You’re coming to lunch with us whether you want to or not!”

Lance continued to make noises, probably talking to Hunk. They usually threatened to hack into her keypad if she didn’t come out to join them for meals. Katie couldn’t really understand their stubbornness. She might have appreciated their offer of friendship back in Middle School, when she’d felt ostracized by her peers, but now it was just another hazard to her already convoluted plan.

“Go bother some poor girl, McClain!” Katie shouted in response, feeling more inpatient than strictly necessary.

She knew that Lance meant well, but she didn’t have time for his hijinks. Katie had a duty to her family, first and foremost, and any effort spent placating her teammates was a waste in that regard. Not to mention that Lance had a knack for attracting attention that completely opposed her own need to remain unseen.

Her door slid open with an elegant swoosh.

Katie poked her head from the bathroom to glare at the two boys who stood there. Hunk had the sense to look ashamed, but Lance just grinned.

“It’s bonding time, Pidge!” He stepped into the room, arms wide open. His easy smile was the same as ever, despite the news they’d received earlier that day about their performance stats. It was probably why Lance was there, after all.

Katie actually felt a little bad about the whole thing. She wasn’t particularly invested in training as a communications officer and, though she wouldn’t say it affected her retainment of the knowledge demanded from her, it certainly translated into frustration when they were in the simulator.

She wasn’t much of a team player, Katie could admit.

“If you’re trying to get on my good side, this is not how to do it,” she grumbled, trying her best to keep her voice low. Too much of a change would eventually weight on her vocal cords or sound plain ridiculous, but a difference in pitch and speech patterns were certainly necessary to disguise her true identity. Thankfully, any slip up could be attributed to puberty, as she’d been seeing many of their male classmates endure the difficulties of cracking voices.

Lance took her by the shoulders and shook her indiscriminately. “Quit being the worst!” His cheerfulness hid the vexation that Katie knew he truly felt. “We’re having burgers today, so I’m not letting you bring us down.”

She snickered. Lance was notorious for his love of junk food, despite Hunk’s attempts to get them more nutritious meals. He frequently spoke about his mother’s cooking but didn’t seem to have that same interest in the dietary plan prepared by the Garrison.

Katie couldn’t really fault him for that. Their meals were usually so blend that they seemed to withdraw taste from any of the condiments added.

From behind Lance, Hunk had finally gathered enough courage to come in. He looked around in such false innocence that Katie might have believed him, hadn’t she caught him going through her drawers the previous week. That boy was nosy as hell.

Just another reason to keep them away.

“If I go with you to the cafeteria, does that mean I can get you out of my room?” She fixed them with a stony look.

“For a time,” Lance offered, all cheeky and bright and annoying.

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder, pulling his friend back from Katie. “We noticed you didn’t eat yesterday, again.” He sighed. “If you took better care of yourself, we wouldn’t come here so often.”

Katie let that reasoning sit with her for a bit. She usually sneaked granola bars and other less-perishable types of food into her room to eat while she worked, but it was true that she didn’t really sit for meals unless the boys pushed her. She didn’t think they would notice.

It brought a strange warmth to her chest. She’d felt cold for so long now, always at arm’s length from those around her. Her mother had tried, but she was grieving and her suffering filled her until there was no more room for her daughter. These small kindnesses had gone away with Matt.

She struggled not to reach into her pocket for the picture she kept of them. Hunk had a curious soul and Lance was a gossip; they had almost caught her one too many times.

“I guess I did want your input on how to recalibrate this old radio I found in the junkyard…” Katie huffed out a breath, which the boys took as a surrender.

“Ah, nothing like the smell of oil and grease to really improve the day!” Lance put an arm around her shoulders, but she quickly dodged away, lest he recognize anything different about her body. Even though she was already pretending to be a boy, Katie didn’t want to also have to pretend to be trans. It was a line that she dared not cross, morally.

She felt the dysmorphia more acutely than she’d imagined she would. As a child, she had enjoyed cutesy things and dresses and her long hair. The sudden departure from those possessions was supposed to remove her from her previous identity, but Katie would always know the truth. There was no escaping it.

More than anything, it was the inability to choose that left her frazzled. The loose clothes and glasses and boyish haircut didn’t bother her and they did give her a liberty that more feminine wear didn’t, but Katie wished the circumstances allowed her to be a girl too, sometimes.

Alas, here she was, stuck between Hunk and Lance as they basically escorted her to the cafeteria. Matt would have a conniption if he ever found out there were boys breaking into her room at all times of the day.

“You thinking about those amazing fries we’re gonna get?” Lance sighed dreamily. “Honestly, I don’t know how they do it. Every other meal freaking sucks, but then Monday comes around and the cooks just nail it!”

Hunk chuckled, nodding along. “They probably want to put us in a good mood for the week. Everybody knows that getting back to classes after the weekend can be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible.” Lance dragged his hands through his face. “I nearly fell asleep during Arithmetic today. Professor Reeves is such a bore!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t spend Sunday nights in town,” Katie quipped before she could stop herself.

“Yeah, well,” Lance floundered. “What’s your excuse, then? You won’t come with us, but you still look dead on your feet in the mornings!”

“I’m just not a morning person.” She crossed her arms, turning away from Lance.

In doing so, however, she came face to face with Hunk, who was staring at her with an inquisitive look. He was less loud about it than Lance, but it was clear that he also had questions about what Katie spent her time doing.

She tightened her arms around herself, feeling her stomach drop.

This was why Katie didn’t like to talk to them. It was usually easy to ignore Lance, because of how over-the-top he was, but Hunk’s gentleness and concern made the guilt rise within her. She didn’t want to involve other people in her lies, didn’t want them to believe Pidge was their friend only to be faced with a betrayal.

And that’s how they would see it, wasn’t it? Katie didn’t have a lot of experience with friendships, especially not ones as deep as Hunk and Lance’s, but no sane person would take it lightly to find out someone had lied about their whole identity and motivations.

Besides, if she ever did find out what the Garrison was hiding, it could possibly affect the future of the organization and disrupt the trajectory of every student there.

Before Katie could go further into her spiraling thoughts, she felt Hunk maneuver her into the cafeteria line. She had tuned out the rest of their conversation and now Lance spoke of a girl in his Aerodynamics class.

She ignored his ramblings. Lance tried to project this image of a lady’s man, but the few dates he’d scored since they started school never seemed to really move forward. They ended up in an endless cycle in which Lance fixated on some girl, hit on her endlessly, then finally gave up and went crying to Hunk.

Katie couldn’t see the appeal of it, but it most likely had to do with Lance’s self-esteem and need for validation.

“I think Jiya might actually like me!” he declared, despite how both Hunk and Katie were more focused on filling their trays with food. “Whenever the teacher asks me to stay behind and clean up, she stays to help! That has to mean something!”

Katie collected her juice box and went to sit down, pointedly ignoring Lance’s questions.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hunk said agreeably. He didn’t sound too sure, but his expression showed that he was trying to be positive for Lance’s sake.

“Or, you know, the girl is just a nice person who thought you were being picked on by the teacher.” Katie raised her eyes to give Lance an unimpressed look. “And you’re reading too much into it.”

The boy scowled at her. “What would you know, Pidge? I’ve never seen you with a girl before.”

“Yeah,” she raised an eyebrow, feeling smug that the other two wouldn’t understand the humor in this. “What do I know of girls?”

Katie had to suppress a laugh when Lance turned to her with a very confused expression. Hunk, however, gave her a small, secretive smile that set off all kinds of warning signs.

“I don’t get it,” Lance complained to Hunk, then turned back to her. “I don’t get it!”

“Well,” Hunk started and immediately her heart started pounding in her chest. Outwardly, Katie tried to remain impassive. “The girls in our class all love Pidge.”

“They do?!” Lance burst out, eyes widened. His gaze shifted back and forth between her and Hunk.

They didn’t, Katie was pretty sure. Did they?

“They think he’s cute,” Hunk confirmed, waving his fork in the air as if trying to recall the exact words. “Pidge is quiet, but he’s smart and mostly polite, so Denise decided he was a good guy and the rest of the girls kinda followed her lead.”

Now that Katie thought about it, it was true that she’d helped Denise with her Bio homework and that people had been nicer to her since. She supposed they could see Pidge in a good light, especially because he seemed so much younger than the other students in Engineering.

Katie blinked rapidly to dispel her thoughts. She’d been thinking of Pidge in the third person, again.

“Fine, then.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Katie. “What miraculous advice do you have for me, oh Great Pidgeon?”

Despite his sarcasm, it was clear that Lance truly wanted an answer. It was one of the most ridiculous situations Katie had ever found herself in.

“How about you show some interest in what these girls like, instead of showboating around them?” She flicked a fry at him, which Hunk quickly stole for himself. “Sure, some people want to be impressed, but we all got into the Garrison and a lot of them already know your grades on the simulator. Most girls want someone who will listen and who they can have fun with.”

“I can be fun!” Lance protested.

“I get what Pidge’s saying, though,” Hunk intervened. Katie hadn’t meant to be harsh, but Lance suddenly looked a little deflated. “We know that you’re great, but you’re always so busy trying to be what these girls want from you that you don’t really get to know them. A little kindness goes a long way.”

Katie nodded along, munching on her burger. “No girl wants an egocentric boyfriend,” she added, mouth still half full. Lance glared at her in both disgust and indignancy.

“I don’t want to hear this from you, Mister I’m-not-here-to-make-friends!”

She shrugged and continued to eat her burger.

“Okay, okay…” Hunk put his hands up placatingly. “How about I get us some dessert and we change the subject?”

Lance glanced at him through the corner of his eyes. “Those guava-flavored popsicles?”

“You know it!” Hunk grinned back at him and the two shared a high-five.

“You’re so easy to please,” Katie commented once Hunk had gotten up. She used her last fry to soak up the mayo leftover on her plate.

Lance glared at her for a moment, before letting the last of his annoyance slip away. He reached into his backpack and took out an apple.

“Here.” He deposited it on her tray.

Katie frowned at him. “What is this?”

“You always eat fruit after we get something greasy, right?” he asked it casually, distracted by trying to squeeze ketchup onto his remaining fries. The condiment bottles in the cafeteria were continuously blocked.

“Yeah.” She blinked up at him, caught by surprise. Her voice had gone soft and she had to clear her throat to dispel the emotion that knotted there. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

Lance looked up from his food to give her an exaggerated eye-roll.

“You’re my friend, Pidge.” He kicked her under the table. “In spite of all your efforts to keep me away.”

She stayed silent for a moment, staring at the apple.

“Thank you,” she said. I’m sorry, she wanted to add, but it would make no sense to him. As far as Lance knew, Pidge was cold and self-involved and clinical to a fault.

“Don’t mention it!” He threw a fry up and tried to catch it with his mouth, but it merely bounced off his nose, marking it with ketchup. “Dang! One more!”

Katie let out a breath of laughter. Then, sitting up to better her odds, she waved at Lance. “Try me.”

By the time Hunk returned, Katie was biting into her apple as Lance complained about the ketchup stains he’d gotten on his uniform jacket.

--

She didn’t know what had driven her away from the dorms that day. There was a restless energy within her that demanded space and, though she’d never been the biggest fan of nature, it had sent her directly into the Arizona desert.

Katie felt like Pidge, today. Not like Pidge Gunderson, but like the little girl who’d yelled a misheard swearword at locked doors, until her brother had come to her rescue. She felt young and impulsive and alive, despite the grief that still weighted on her shoulders.

More than anything, she missed her mom.

In Katie’s eyes, Coleen Holt knew everything there was to know about agriculture and plant life. She was a different kind of genius from her father and brother, possessing a peacefulness about her that none of the other Holts could ever hope for. It had been a comfort through the years of Katie’s adolescence.

Sitting underneath one of the few trees distributed across the Garrison grounds reminded Katie of her grandmother’s place in Italy, where the fruit trees spread as far as the horizon. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sweet smells that rose from the vegetation.

“I wonder if they have lemon trees here,” she murmured to herself.

“I don’t think they do, Pidge.”

Katie lurched back in shock. She felt her shoulder scrape against the tree trunk and had to stretch out an arm to keep from falling. Lance sent her a carefree grin, bent down at the waist to look her in the eye, as he usually did. It irritated Katie to no end, not only for how condescending it was, but because it always put him too far into her personal bubble.

“What are you even doing here, Lance?” she asked once her heartrate had gone down.

“I saw you through a window and thought we could eat together, since Hunk is sick.” He looked pointedly at the half-eaten sandwich she’d tossed in her surprise. “I see you started without me.”

“Well, now I’ll have to buy something else for lunch, so thanks for that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be like that, Pidgeon.” Lance poked her on the ribs. “I even brought you something as a bribe.” And then he extended an apple towards her.

Katie took it, trying to cover up her amusement with exasperation. “Do you think I’m obsessed with apples or something?”

“Next time I’ll bring you a lemon,” he teased.

Maybe it was because she felt more herself than she had in weeks, but Katie snickered at him. While his sanguinity could be exhausting, this time it was a welcome relief from the stagnation she’d fallen under.

Lance pulled out a sandwich from his pack, one of those 30 centimeters subs in Italian bread and multiple fixings, and Katie felt her mouth water at the sight. He must have noticed, because Lance chuckled and broke out one end for her.

“I think this is a palo verde,” he remarked after swallowing his first bite. At a confused look from Katie, he clarified, “the tree. You were talking about it before, right?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah…” He sounded like he was laughing at her. “I’m Cuban.”

Katie suddenly felt very stupid. He and Hunk had probably mentioned this already, but she didn’t pay them that much attention. It was a little embarrassing, especially when Lance seemed to be memorizing every small piece of information she offered him.

“Oh.” She searched for the right thing to say. “I didn’t know. Your last name sounds American.”

The whole situation left in her a sense of déjà vu. She couldn’t quite remember why, but the words pulled at her memory.

Thankfully, Lance took it in stride. “Our family has been to the US, then back to Cuba, then back to the US for generations. My whole name is actually Lance Serrano Mcclain.”

She nodded. Normally Katie would let the conversation drop and focus on finishing her meal, but she had already decided to take a bit of a break that day, in order to be more attentive at night. It couldn’t hurt to find out more about her teammate.

“So… Palo verde?”

“It means green stick, which seems kind of unfair, because this tree is actually pretty big, especially for the climate around here.” Lance fanned himself. “I hate how dry it gets.”

She almost agreed with him, but, as far as Lance and Hunk were concerned, Pidge Gunderson had no reason to have been outside of Arizona. Instead, she pretended to ponder his comment.

“The desert can be pretty unpredictable. The lack of humidity during the day is bad, but I wouldn’t want to be caught out when the temperatures drop.”

Lance faked a shiver. “Don’t even talk about that! I have too much tropical blood to handle the cold well. Hunk’s Samoan, by the way,” and there was unnecessary emphasis to his words here, “so he’s the same.”

“I didn’t realize both of you weren’t from around here.” Katie could imagine how much they missed their families. Choosing to voluntarily leave so that they could study at the Garrison must have been difficult.

“That’s nice to hear.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He scrunched up his nose, as if he wanted to take back the words as he said them. “You were so cold to us when we first met, we weren’t sure what it was about.”

It was her turn to grimace. Katie hadn’t wanted to seem like so much of a jerk. She could be snappish and patronizing, even with those she loved, but her haughtiness towards her teammates had been a façade created to keep them out. Not that it did any good.

“Ugh, you’re already closed off, again.” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just personal, Lance.” Katie played with the apple in her hands. “I swear it’s not about you two.”

Without looking directly at him, she couldn’t tell what expression Lance was making. He stared at her, letting the silence extend.

Then he popped the last of the sub into his mouth, spreading back onto the grass.

“We will pester it out of you.” She turned to see him grinning. The confidence there was a quiet thing, so much different than Lance’s usual hyperboles and that much more effective. She felt dazed by it. “Eventually.”

Katie had never understood what the girls in her school meant when they talked about crushes. They always seemed frivolous, going on about someone’s hair or how handsome they were or how strong. Meanwhile, Katie had simply hoped for a friend, for a respite to the unending mocking.

Still, Lance suddenly looked very interesting under this light. His chin was too pointed to be considered attractive, but his blue eyes caught the sunshine like polished stone. He could be funny and thoughtful and inventive, attributes Katie hadn’t expected to value.

She moved her gaze to where another group of students was sitting, uncertain if the heat running up her neck would translate into a damning blush. She bit into the apple to keep from incriminating herself further.

[dwellordream]

The way you write Tom is really interesting to me, so I wanted to ask if you have any specific ideas about why he turned out the way he did. In Barbed Wire and Grass Crown he seems a little bit more...tame? for lack of a better word, he's obviously still Very corrupt and really cold and apathetic, but I gather that he didn't kill Myrtle or anyone else with the basilisk, so I have to assume he's a teeeensy tiny bit less evil than he is in canon (thank you Amy 🥺). But that aside, is there any particular reason(s) you think he turned out evil to begin with? Was he just born like that, or was it the end result of his childhood? I can imagine growing up wanting to be great and distinguished from others while the Grindelwald uprising was actively happening didn't do him wonders.

I think I mostly try to avoid writing him in a very over the top manner because well, while he is the villain of the story, he’s not exactly in full Lord Voldemort mode running around making people call him ‘my lord’ and cackling in between monologues. So that is probably part of it.

It’s kind of pointless imo to split hairs over ‘degrees of evil doing’ in terms of his characterization. Tom may have technically killed less people in the fic than his canon self, but he’s arguably leading to loads more suffering as head of an organized and corrupt government, as opposed to isolated incidents.

I hope Barbed Wire and Grass Crown don’t give the impression that the moral of the story is ‘some people are doomed to be evil’. I try to make it very clear that Tom’s deliberate and knowing choices have led him down this path, not some innate evil that he is helpless to control.

Tom wasn’t given much emotional support or love and affection as a child and that definitely had an impact. Growing up during an extremely violent and unstable period in history didn’t help matters.

But I think what Amy and other characters (correctly) observe is that Tom does know right from wrong and that he continually makes bad choices for his own selfish desires, not because he can’t be a good person, but because he has no interest in being a good person.

Evil is often boring, and lazy. You have to put actual effort into making the right decisions, because it often means sacrificing what you personally want for the sake of other people’s happiness and safety. Tom has no interest in doing that.

Even with someone like Amy who he feels genuine love and affection for, if it comes down to what he wants versus her happiness, he consistently chooses what he wants, and tries to justify it to himself after the fact. He knew, on some level, that Amy would never be happy with him in the longterm unless he changed for the better.

But he thought he could have his cake and eat it too, because ultimately he wasn’t willing to give up what he wants (power) for the sake of her happiness, even though he was knowingly forcing her to compromise her own morals and freedom by manipulating her into staying with him (and by insinuating quite heavily that if she left him for someone else, he’d kill them).

[aelaer]

How about Stephen being infected with a symbiote, but to prevent it from destroying humanity, he merges its existence with the cloak's essence (read: badass venom!stephen)!

This is my oldest prompt - I think over a year now - largely because I knew nothing about Venom or symbiotes; that's one part of the Marvel universe I haven't explored. Some time on Wiki later, I guess this is one of the "corrupted" symbiotes, though I honestly can't figure out how one of them is supposed to destroy a whole planet if it doesn't like, create duplicates of itself to infect millions of beings at once. I guess there's something I missed that I can't find on wiki, but I'll assume it's very dangerous haha. But I threw something together, or tried to, on the off-chance this anon is still around. I don't know if symbiotes all talk disjointed like Venom, but this one really doesn't - sorry if that's not fully accurate. Maybe this one has a better command at English.

Defying the curse that has taken hold

The moment he understood what was happening to him and knew what being had attached itself to him, Stephen threw himself into the Mirror Dimension to isolate himself from all others.

What is this place? said the foreign voice in his head. It is different and yet the same.

"Mirror Dimension," he answered, forcing his voice to a calmness he didn't feel.

The alien parasite—this symbiote—could feel everything, though. Of course. You understand me now, it answered. You know what I am. And you are afraid. 

There was little point in trying to deny the accusation with the creature in his body. It could probably sense the subconscious changes that caused shifts in the chemical balances within him, that charged his emotions. "I know that your species has destroyed entire planets with but one host to start." And despite rumors of more benevolent symbiotes, this one certainly was not. He had felt the strange, sudden urges of blood lust several times throughout the week. It was that symptom in particular that had eventually led him to the awful discovery.

It laughed. It is my nature. And yet you still try to fight. That is pointless. I am amongst the eldest. I have eaten many worlds. You will be mine and this world will be like the others.

Like hell he would. "You underestimate me. If I cannot find a solution to neutralize you, I am fully prepared to die."

Again it was amused. And I move to another host.

"You won't be able to from the Mirror Dimension," said Stephen. "This place is inaccessible to most of humanity. If I die, you are forever stuck here."

It scoffed in disbelief. Your pontificating is quaint. I will enjoy consuming you.

Oh, this thing had no idea what it was getting into.

—— —— ——

This is tedious, said the symbiote five weeks later. It had been quiet for a couple days until that point, as if finally realizing that Stephen was more than willing to make good on his threat. The lofty gestures of destruction and grandeur had also fallen away to something a bit more casual.

Stephen couldn't help but smirk. "I've been through worse tedium." Dormammu came to mind. Hell, even parts of med school were worse than this. This alien parasite really had no idea what war it had started with him.

In the beginning, it wasn't at all difficult to create a portal far from his body, then cross the astral plane to visit Wong with his impromptu plan for the foreseeable future. Wong, in turn, left food and books in a designated drop spot twice a day at designated times. It was easy to avoid it during those times, and Stephen effectively kept himself quarantined within the Mirror Dimension as he researched and experimented on getting rid of the symbiote.

The bad news was that nothing was removing it from his person; the symbiote was too strong for what tricks his research had unearthed this far. The good news was that the symbiote was a good deal less patient than Stephen.

There was silence again for a little while, and Stephen thought it would be quiet again for some time. So when it spoke again about an hour later, he was surprised.

I'm not leaving, the symbiote said. Stephen raised his brow; the tone was interesting. It was less haughty. You know I feed off what you call hormones. You normally make much more in one of your days than I see in other mortals. It's very satiating.

"And yet you still wanted more. I felt your attempted encroachment upon my mind and your desire for blood, and I will not allow it."

There was silence for a moment. I… might be convinced to live with your hormones. There was a lot in the beginning. It was delicious. I especially liked what you call adrenaline.

Stephen pressed his lips together. "That might suit, but from all I've read, your species absorb key nutrients that my vital organs need at an unsustainable rate. I'm afraid the human body simply isn't enough to provide for you long-term." He looked back at his book. "Now that you're more agreeable, perhaps I could place you in a dimension with no organic lifeforms for you to kill."

But that's boring! it whined. It actually whined. I want more adrenaline. You've given me so little.

"You're ignoring the fact that I just told you my body physically cannot handle you." He grimaced. "Even if I could make you swear not to harm Earth or its residents, this isn't sustainable."

Stephen felt a grudging admiration that wasn't from himself. I can't do anything you don't want. I've tried. No one's ever stopped me before. You're strong. There was a pause. I like your strength. I want to stay here—even if you'll only give me hormones.

"Did you not listen to a thing I said about my body's ability—"

You're a sorcerer! the parasite argued. You don't have normal mortal inhibitions. I can feed off many things. I can feed off your magic and you can keep your body's nutrients, as you say.

Stephen felt a spike of alarm. "I need my magic. You cannot have it."

I'm not leaving, it said again, stubbornly.

"I'll find a way to remove you," Stephen promised.

—— —— ——

Another two weeks passed. It was nearing the end of their second month quarantined in the Mirror Dimension and they were still at an impasse. The symbiote was in no way going to break through Stephen's mental defenses, and Stephen was having a hell of a time getting the creature either out of him or dead.

And the news that came with Wong's morning drop that day made Stephen realize just how permanent his situation might be.

The Cloak could immediately feel his resignation as he read the letter and tapped at his arm to ask why his mood changed. "Wong says that the Masters need to look into a new Master for the New York Sanctum if this is not resolved soon." Stephen clenched his teeth; he gave an oath to protect the world, and if this was the only way to do it…

Cloak has an idea, said the symbiote unexpectedly, breaking a three day silence.

That caught him off guard. "Beg your pardon?"

Cloak's volunteering to contribute part of its own magic. It has a significant amount.

Stephen blinked as a number of questions were raised by that statement. The first that was vocalized was, "The Cloak talks to you?"

Not exactly, the symbiote said. It is what you call inorganic. I am of the same kind. But what you call free will is powered by other forces that you have no word for, and in that way I can understand its intentions and it, mine. It was very annoying at the beginning, it ended with a light grumble.

Stephen lifted a hand to one of the gold clasps of the Cloak to indicate it to detach itself. While communication was limited, the cloak could do quite a bit with gestures and touches. "Is what it says true? That you can communicate with it?" he asked as the Cloak came to face him.

The Cloak bowed its collar in confirmation and Stephen pursed his lips. "And you are offering to give part of your magic in order for me to survive and leave here?" Another nod in confirmation. Stephen hesitated. "I don't want to see you harmed."

It won't hurt it, the symbiote said as the Cloak shook its collar and reached out for Stephen's hand in reassurance. Its magic is much older than yours. It is better than yours to sustain me.

Stephen frowned. "I cannot let myself out of here if this symbiote's words do not match his intentions. Can you see its intentions, and does it speak the truth?"

The Cloak nodded twice as the symbiote said, Magic tastes interesting. It is an acceptable substitute for blood, and tastes well with your adrenaline.

He thought about it for a moment. This may be an acceptable solution, as he trusted the Cloak with his life and knew it would not lie. "I do not know what magic would accomplish this."

You don't need to do anything, said the symbiote. It's between Cloak and me. So we'll do it, then we can get out of here.

"Wait," he said before they could start anything. "I will need approval from my peers. If they think it too dangerous, I am obligated to stay here."

He felt annoyance from the symbiote. Fine, it grumbled. It at least knew how futile arguing about this would be.

Stephen wrote a note in response and set it back at the drop point, then waited until the evening to leave his body and travel across the astral plane to meet Wong there. He got there just as Wong stepped through, and as he began to read the note, Stephen broke through the barriers of reality to speak with him.

Wong gave him a look. "You think it's safe?"

"I trust the Cloak."

Wong nodded towards the portal as he went towards it. "Still, you'll need to convince the others."

—— —— ——

Let no one say that Stephen Strange was anything but a very, very good debater. The meeting took two hours as they went through everything that could go wrong and Stephen's answers to why that wouldn't happen, or what they could easily do to prevent catastrophe. Part of him was partially convinced that he won them over through sheer stubbornness.

(It probably helped that they really didn't have any great candidates to take over the New York Sanctum, too. They were still spread too thin and no one really wanted to lose him to a threat that he seemed to have now under control.)

When Wong let him back into the Mirror Dimension, he floated his way back to his body and settled within it.

Well? the symbiote asked.

Stephen frowned as he noticed something off. "... did you try to move me while I was gone?"

... possibly. It must have felt Stephen's irritation and continued, I couldn't really do anything. You've blocked your mind even when outside your body. And Cloak got in the way.

He huffed his annoyance. "Well, if we're going to live with each other, that can't happen anymore."

So they agreed?

"They did," Stephen said. "Now promise me you won't try moving my body while I'm elsewhere."

He felt the pang of disappointment. Fine.

He pressed his lips together. "Right. Well, if the Cloak is still in agreement, you two do what you need to do."

The Cloak shifted. It reached forward on the left side so that it was fully covering his heart, and the right side lifted to cover his head, wrapping his face within the folds of the fabric. He blinked in surprise, but otherwise didn't move.

A short moment later, Stephen could feel the threads of magic about him and entering his skin. This magic was an old magic, a very ancient magic that weaved the very fabric of reality, the inherent magic of Earth that helped create a universe that could support the other magics borrowed from other dimensions that they used in various spellwork. He understood that the Cloak was ancient, but he truly did not realize until that moment the sort of power that was interwoven within each of its threads.

The power was breathtaking and exhilarating.

When the process stopped, Stephen had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly he exhaled, and the Cloak lifted itself off him completely to face him.

It had changed in physical appearance. Its checkered interior lining, formerly a faded red and grey, was now streaked with jagged black lines that spilled like ink from the collar downward. On the exterior, the darker solid red checkers were now pitch black, and the embroidered details upon the lining, the collar, and down part of the back were now made of black thread rather than the lighter red.

"How do you feel?" Stephen asked the Cloak. It spun around once in able movement, then settled down upon his shoulders as if to comfort him.

Cloak's fine, said the symbiote. This feels quite interesting. Tastes good with your adrenaline. Give me more.

"Say please," he muttered, even as his heart, already beating fast from the transformation process, kept its steady, fast beat as he created a portal back into the world. "We'll have some more ground rules to establish if you'll be staying for an extended period within my watch."

I look forward to it, the symbiote purred as Stephen stepped through the gateway and to his new chapter in life.

[maiuoart]

The Creator & Destroyer; Craft the Artist | Screech the Corruption

Their full stories are under the cut! Super long, thats why! They come with Original Backgrounds; Their not siblings at all, but they do become the Creator and Destroyer in their own ways!

Enjoy Craft & Screech!

Craft;

UnderSwap Papyrus Honey Ink

Fun Facts; - What keeps Craft going now is his Father’s Pipe and Pen; The memory of his father and how his positivity helped kept him going through his difficult times is keeping him going now. He becomes very hyperactive and more than a positive source after the whole incident; He personally tries to Follow In His Father's Positive Footsteps. - Pen is his Magical tool, his Pipe is how he gains his feelings. - Calligraphy Pen; Can use it to cut things/becomes a weapon if needed. Prefers not to, only to stab F4′s Creature; Alt when he needs a refill in his vials. - Vials are Ink. - Dries the Ink and smokes it when need a boost in his emotions; When he removes his gloves, his pinkies are stained with rainbow ink. - He has a Soul, but it’s so Shriveled up and tiny; It’s practically non-existent. - Freaks out if his vials are close to empty; Never wants to be numb again. - Calls his invisible ink; Camo Ink - Can be a huge Memelord. - Calm, sensible, but enjoys jokes of any kind. - Favorite color; Yellow & Purple - His Sketchbook is called ‘Echo Book’; But in private he calls it his ‘SOUL Book’ - When he has an idea and doesn’t wanna pull out his book, he’ll write on his sleeve. His magic ink will pull it from his sleeves and organize it into his book for later. - Has a decent memory unless his vials are low. When low, he becomes very apathetic to everyone and everything. When the vials are empty, he becomes a literal walking husk and desires a quiet place to stay hidden. Actively tries not to do this; Finding F4 to refill his vials. 

Story Points; - Came from an AU where he was constantly taken advantage of; Others would simply talk his non-existing ears off with problems of their own. They wouldn’t listen to him when he tried to help; Any advice he gave, even if he was right, always went up and over their heads and ignored. When he needed someone to lean on; No one was there for him besides his Father, Professor WD Gaster. - The more Craft saw as his own emotions as being worthless, the more he became blank in his own feelings, becoming just A Piece Of Paper Used To Write Words Down. However, he stayed Hopeful with the help of his Father. - Blue wasn’t even there for him, being one of the worst ones who would use Craft, becoming his source of suppression. Blue was jealous of Craft and Gasters relationship; Became one of the most brattiest types to keep and gain any and all of their Fathers attention on him fully. Crafts Blue was very Selfish. - When Craft and his Father could get an ounce of quality time, they both always had the best of it. Gaster taught Craft so many things as he was a hyperactive, purely positive, the most caring and considerate Father known. Though Gaster still had a lab, he would bring Craft to his Secret Lab and teach him so many things as he could. - Gaster loves both of his sons; But he probably has more of a soft spot for Craft, because he is so similar to himself. Almost a mirror image, but he tries not to pick favorites, but everyone could tell; Especially Blue who tries and gains his attention constantly.   

- When his Father disappeared in a freak accident at the Royal Labs, Craft despises the once original Dr. River and is happy that he is going through what he’s going through, demoted to being a simple Ferry Driver. - Craft agrees with everyone that the old Doctor has lost his senses, but how the words he says sometimes does make him curious occasionally. Then, after a few key words said by River person, who Craft has never told anyone but his father; he gets it in his skull that his father is still alive in whatever the accident created, making Craft go into his father's old lab- go into the secret room, that not even Blue knows about, that contains the Machine and tries his damn hardest to work on it. - The Lab contained Gasters prized Pipe and favorite Pen; Craft is quick to take on in his Father’s memory, since no one can remember him. - Craft grew annoyed after a certain ‘Failed’ testing, making him giving up on the machine in general due to so much stress building up and his HoPe fading down to nothing. But, he doesn’t know he was able to put it together right, not even after an accident with the pen that he had accidentally left in the machine at the time. - It causes the Pen to have an ability to help write down his mind, his thoughts and makes them come true. If he doesn’t want people to read them; the ink will turn invisible. However, Craft just thinks he made a very fancy pen… He doesn’t know that it’s the first step to his creativity helping ability. - It takes a while, but once he realizes he does have the ability to help, to create, that his words and stories come true for others; He starts getting a bit of his HoPe back up. He feels like he could help everyone now, change them for the better; Help them open their eyes, desire to make them better people… Though as he tried to bring his Father back; He never could for some odd reason.  - But That Goes Opposite. Everyone becomes much more dark, much more bratty, and then Craft is feeling as if he made everything 10x’s worse. He tries to fix it, but it never gets better… So he officially gives up; He lets everyone do what they want to do, and he just sleeps more and more. - Craft became blank in a lot of ways; Didn’t care for others, didn’t have an ounce of emotional matter for his own well being; He was continuously used and when he needed some ounce of those feelings of knowing he could speak and be heard, no one came to his aid, making him dwindle into Depression so much more and quicker than normal. - His brother Blue would start to act as if he did care; That fakeness seemingly helped keep Craft from just dusting... Though it was fake, he decided it was better than nothing, able to stay just barely afloat.

- Once the Kid started to come around, it did spark only curiosity in him like many others. However, fear soon followed when it was apparent the Kid was continuously on a Geno Route. Once Craft realized what Resets were, it seemed to shock something within him...  At first, he would be very disturbed; Very confused; His mindset would be ‘How is this possible? Their killing everyone, constantly. How? Why?’ - Slowly, Craft didn’t realize it at the time; But he began to get his HoPe back once more. Craft was becoming almost excited to have the Kid kill everyone after each reset, slowly realizing it was so much more peaceful when no one was around.  - When the Kid found out they couldn’t change Craft’s personality at all, no matter what they did; They began to leave him alone, especially… Craft began to watch his own world die each and every time from safety points; It drove him absolutely insane. - Craft began to crave that loneliness; Becoming a disease that plagued his thoughts, perhaps sometimes leading his ‘Family’, ‘Friends’, and those he barely knew quicker to their doomed fate once he realized no one knew of the Resets. This caused his Soul to shrivel from the insane amount of disgusting and disturbing Hope of Insanity; Causing it to become black with hatred of his own kind, desiring to be alone quicker after each reset. - As the Kid began to grow bored; They warned Craft it would be their last time coming around after they left him completely alone. And though the Psycho killer was trying to get him fearful; Craft instead Thanked Them Instead when the deed was done and actually walked away from their path to let them pass to ‘Exit the game’. 

- From there, Craft was left alone in his AU. He was left there to ‘Perish’, as the Kid said. But instead, Craft wrote. Wrote stories, wrote idea’s, just kept letting his creativity flow and free his mind; Let himself finally fill the ‘Blanks’ he was left to be for years. He wrote about his past, but then he began to think about other worlds… If there were different places, if things would have been different in some other universes… - During him being lost in his mindset, the ink he was using was then accidentally knocked off and created a black spot…. He cursed, went to go pick up the bottle, but instead was grabbed and yanked by an unknown force where he then entered the Void. - There, he slowly began to realize what his powers could actually do; Making his way to becoming Craft; An US!Paps Creator.

- Though when he first runs out of his Ink; He goes on mindlessly in the Void. He is basically a husk of who he once was, but he just sees everything as worthless. He only has Black Ink to use, but in order to get that he has to pierce his own Soul to drain it out. The thought of why he would need it at all leaves him, however. Art Block, Writing Block, his own creativity dwindles down into almost nothing until he finds another Alternate Self; Screech. - The two fight for a while due to Screech’s own personality clashing with Crafts. Craft is able to use the ink in his Soul, able to practically defeat Screech in their first battle. - However, their battle causes another Alternate Self to arrive; F4, with his Parasite Alt, who get in the middle of things on accident and causes Craft to realize he can refill his Vial of Inks with the use of F4′s Parasite.  - This settles everything back down, all three not becoming friends, not even Allies, but just on the title of; “We can’t kill each other, we cannot die, no matter how hard we try. So, we’ll just... Be acquaintances.” - Once he gets his mind back; Craft realize just how awful that is to want his family and friends gone. He wants to try and help others connect more because of it, so they don't end up so distant like he did.

Point of his Creation; To help people never become distant like he had. It’s not fun, it’s toxic, and help them enjoy their lives more with the connections they make in the creations they desire to form.

Screech;

UnderSwap Papyrus Stretch Error

Fun Facts; - Screech is the Geek/Nerd to the extreme; Loves the Comics of all kinds for heroes and villains alike. Loves the Marvel and DC things and WILL NERD OUT IF SOMEONE GETS THEM WRONG. - His faves are Dr. Strange, Loki, and Spiderman.  - He learns a lot of his tricks from the Comics he reads. - Likes to make a port, steals a regular Stretches Tea, Honey, Cigarettes, & more CONSTANTLY. Enjoys watching the aftermath, laughing. - Full blown trickster and absolute asshole. - Is a hoarder; Collects mainly comics and electronics. - Has a broken Roomba that goes around his area but instead of cleaning up the crumbs or anything, it literally eats everything Screech cares for; Like his comic collection. Has a love/hate relationship with the item, it’s literally like a pet; Doesn’t have it in him to get rid of it despite constantly threatening to destroy it. Roomba’s name is Scruffy. - His threads are hard and tough, each ending in individual Needles. - Enjoys ruining things; ANYTHING. Relationships, items, people, monsters, Souls; Whatever he can get his hands on. - Does enjoy to do Needle Felting; Makes large, life size, wool dolls of those he either enjoys or hates. The ones who he hates he tends to get very psycho killer on; Practicing the perfect ways to destroy them when he can get the idea to... Those he enjoys are mainly those in his past; Trying to recreate his own world to keep his own Hope alive. -  Has his brothers Bandana on him at all times and one of his Armor pieces in his domain for remembrance with the last note his brother had ever written to him. - Made like a large wool doll that looks like his brother; He'll animate it, make it act like his Brother is talking to him, has it clean up his mess and 'Lecture' him like old times. Has it to where his Brother is constantly asking him if he's found a way to help them yet.

Story Points; - His AU is unknown how it started to disappear, but he remembers his world was filled with the best kinds of people. Though he was more of the asshole, he was still fair when it counted. Still the ever loving jokester in his area, but way more tame than what he became after the destruction of his world.

- As the AU was beginning to crumble; It started with the monsters and at first he thought it was a trick against him as they were beginning to have 'Attitude' problems. However, the real issue is mainly that the personalities switched to Fell types, Swap types, and even Horror types; Hinting that there are multi AU's, especially when the ‘Plague’ starts draining colors from the world, tearing away slowly at the world. - Codes began to form that only Screech could see, then slowly turned to becoming Corrupted, getting to the point Screech felt himself getting affected by these odd codes and the Corruption labeling everyone and everything. - Something happened to the point Corrupted Files made his friends and loved ones turn against him; The whole time he thinks they did it just to spite him. Screech instantly begins to dwindle down into his own depression with questions constantly attacking his mind; ‘Was it due to all the tricks he’s done? A prank too many? Did he judge a SOUL wrong? Did he do something so wrong they couldn’t forgive him?!’ He didn't know; And still doesn't to the point in time because the ‘Reason Why’ is utterly glitched to the point not even HE can figure it out. - As time moved on, Screech realized only he could see what was happening to his world, he began to desperately try and help out. Each time Screech tried to get them back to normal, it just made it so much worse however. His frustrations began to grow time and time again, his patients reaching its limits. He would be able to see into other AU’s, causing him to look at his own world and slowly think if that was really his; Doubting in his own ability, doubting on who was who, doubting if it was even worth it to fix his world. - When Screech took a moment to try and relax, to calm himself down from yet another failed ability to help try and ‘Fix’ what everyone couldn’t see, his brother tried to comfort him as best he could until he Glitched-out during it, reappearing and causing Screech to SNAP. He's so fed up and insane with grief, with fear at this point, he blinds himself with basically saying that; “this isn’t my world! you’re not my brother! no one here is here! i’ll restart it... no, do one better! I’LL DELETE IT! delete the Corrupted Files!” - In his fit of Rage; He manages to successfully delete all the Corrupted Files... Besides the world of his AU which just seems to be as a stand still. Everyone is gone; Time no longer moves; It is a slowly forgotten time area... But still His Area. Even though he could have stayed in there, tried to see what went wrong, study it with the new sense of time freeze; He instead made an accidental portal and that is what brought him to Craft.  -In his fury of still desiring to destroy; Screech and Craft get into a battle, the two finding out more and more about the other. Their personalities crashed, something in Screech’s teasings and annoyance ways triggering Craft to become more aggressive.

- Refuses to realize he had Destroyed his own world in a fit of Rage; Is trying to constantly find a way to actually gain it back in his insanity. Heard somewhere about a thing called a full [RESTORE]; And is constantly on the lookout for it. Believes it is his key to gain his home AU back, but never believes in anyones words. -Is so disgusted with other people's happiness, he tries to cause havoc and destroy the connections. His mindset is; “if i can’t have my happiness, then how come others do?! I’ll show ‘em what it’s like... to be in pain like me! their pain will bring me my own joy!” -In his twisted mind, he slowly began to enjoy to Destroy. He enjoys it to the point it makes him giddy as anything! The only one who can stop him is Craft. Point of his creation; - There needs to be a Destroyer if there is a Creator... His Insanity roots from those who constantly tried to fix something, but each time failed. When your ‘Good’ enough is not ‘Good’ enough, it can damage one to the point of this level... And when it involves your own family and friends? It tends to make someone just lose their whole shit.    - Legit just think of him as an IT guy who table flipped a whole desktop, taking a hammer to the computer and destroying it to no end... Yet thinks its still salvageable afterwards when it’s really not and goes even deeper in insanity trying to fix it. 

Craft and Screech’s Relationship to one another;

Craft sees Screech as one of those people in his own timeline; Someone who desires attention and similar to his Selfish Blue brother. Doesn’t really desire to be around him, but will put up with him if he tries to disconnect anything or anyone. 

Screech sees Craft similar to his own Selfless Blue brother; Actually holds a small amount of respect but is more or less jealous of him. Hates the fact he creates and could cause something similar to Corruptions, which he tries desperately to halt and erase.

Screech is a brat and due to his Drama maker ways, reminding Craft of his brother. Due to that unnecessary annoyance Screech likes to cause, Craft actually avoids Screech like the plague when he can. However, Screech can see through Craft easily and try to bring him back down to being almost dusted again; Just because it would be one of his major goals to destroy THE Creator. If Craft can’t get away from Screech, he simply blocks out everything Screech is saying. Craft may listen to key words here and there, but mainly it’s a relationship of a Big Calm Brother to a Younger Bratty Attention Desiring Brother. 

When Craft and Screech begin to get to know what happened to the others timeline, Craft can see that Screech actually loved everyone in his own timeline when he comes to visit for random sakes with the world and the dolls he makes to fill in his own void. Craf can see he was ripped away from it all without him wanting it to be like Craft did for his own timeline, so he begins to leave treats or gifts to try and help Screech cope in his own way. Craft doesn’t actually know what to say to the damn guy cause he's so scared of being torn down again like he was with his brother, but he still tries to leave and help Screech when he can because he can see under all that Insanity, he still once cared. 

Screech chases after Craft for attention because he knows he’s the only one would could deal with him and without realizing it; See’s Craft as someone similar to himself. A sense of Kinship is formed between the two, despite them fighting like cats and dogs. 

Just a game of cat and mouse basically, where they try to comfort each other but then push each other away at the wrong time. It can be a fun ordeal, but their relationship becomes close to family once more.

[chaoticevilbean]

Atla Youtube Au, Sokka-Centric

1/?

“What’s up, ma dudes? Time for another session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. This time will feature Lady, Warrior, Gurl, and Princess.” The male was wearing his Southern Water Tribe facepaint, and from his background, it seemed he was indeed in one of the Water Tribes’ territories. His hair was white for this particular video, long and pulled back into a tail. His irises were bright blue, and once again left no clues as to whether it was the real coloring or just contacts.

“Alright, so this story is a bit strange, as per usual. As you all know, my friends are activists and Lady takes that to the extreme. Well, they did it again. What do I mean, you new viewers ask? I mean they started another rebellion. Now, maybe it’d officially count as just a bunch of protests, but I personally believe that once the number of protests in a single city is more than five in as many days, it’s the start of a rebellion. And yes, I did say another. I’ve got it all in a playlist if you wanna look.”

The background behind the videographer changed as he presumably walked around as he spoke. Snow and a clear sky were shown, and there didn’t seem to be any other people in sight.

“Now, it all started because of a previous thing my wonderful Lady did. If you’ve already watched the video, noice. If you haven’t, pause this and find the one labeled ‘Lady Vs Old Coot’. Very inspiring. Anyways, so they came back here and thought that maybe at least that Old Coot had changed, but no. No, instead there’s been no change. Or there hadn’t been. We all came as a group, but only myself, Kuzon, Lady, Bluey, Princess, Gurl, and Warrior. Bandit, Ballerina, and Knife would’ve come, but they were all busy. Or Ballerina and Knife were busy. Bandit hates it here cause there’s no land. Nothing to see.”

“So, we’re all here, and we spend the day touring and exploring and stuff, and then we meet up for lunch. Well, Lady starts ranting about how they’re so disappointed in everyone, especially the Old Coot, and demands that we do something. Immediately, Gurl, Warrior, and Princess all pledge themselves to the cause, and then guess what they do? Guess what they flippin’ do?” The Youtuber gave a sarcastic and slightly pained chuckle, dark seal markings emphasizing his features as he looked around a little.

“If you couldn’t guess, they asked me, me, to help them plan their course of action. Now, these are my friends. Basically my family. I’ve been through a lot with them, from overthrowing corrupt organizations to taking down drug rings to literally being Kuzon’s father one time. And through all of these things, I’ve somehow become known as the one who’s really good at planning. But they asked me to help plan a stinkin’ rebellion. I do it, obviously, but the fact that they even asked.”

“But then, apparently they told all of these people who’re following them in protest that I helped organize everything. And no one decides to tell me this, so I keep helping from the sidelines. We reach day three of protests, and it’s lunchtime, so I think I’ll just walk on over and bring some food to these people who’ve been standing outside the Council all morning. I get there, and I get mobbed. Everyone’s either thanking slash congratulating me, or they’re complaining about the protestors. It takes me an hour to find Lady and ask them what the Spirits happened because of all these people just crowding around and yelling at me.”

“Lady apologizes, but the damage is done. The warriors are asking me to end the protests. I tell them I can’t. They get mad because I’m supposedly the one in charge. I am not the one in charge. I am the one who the people in charge asked for a favor and got dragged into this mess. No one seems to get it. Then the heckin’ Council calls me in and tries to make me end it all. I kept trying to say that it’s not my fault there’s a rebellion. It was the will of one person, aided by the wills of three other people, that inspired the hopes of everyone who’s protesting. I just helped them do the most damage so they have a big impact and this doesn’t take a year.”

“So here I am.” The camera turned around, and started panning to show the barren ice devoid of any life. “I’m currently out here attempting to hide from everyone. I have enough supplies to last me a week on its own, three if I make the most of it all.” The screen showed several bags, including a green Earth Kingdom satchel, a blue Water Tribe satchel, a black Fire Nation duffel, and a yellow Air Nomad backpack. A few items are attached to the duffel and backpack, though it’s unclear what. “I’ll wait out the protests, since Bandit’s giving me a play-by-play of the progress. Once that’s done, I’ll just head back and hope that no one’s still under the delusion that I’m in charge.”

“Thus ends this day’s session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. I’ll be back in an hour after I figure out what else to video and get bored enough to post again. Hope y’all like junk food, cause that’s all I’m serving. That being said, I’m signing off. See ya.”

The video cut to a picture of a boomerang with ‘Boomeraang’ written in calligraphy on the flat side. The entire vlog was titled ‘Lady’s 75th Revolution’.

True to his word, another video was posted about an hour later, this one titled ‘Furry Friends and Shock’.

“Sup, dudes. I’m back as promised, and this time, I’ve brought friends. Say hello to Fluffster, Rookie, and Baby.” The screen flipped, and three wolves were sitting like trained dogs in front of the Youtuber. “The biggest one’s Fluffster, since he’s obviously the floofiest. The smallest one’s Rookie, he’s pretty young. You can tell because his paws are a bit too big for him. He’ll grow into that. Then Baby’s this lovely little gal, and she’s super sweet. Took forever to stop her from licking my face.”

The three wolves wagged their tails as their names were spoken, and people who had watched that far were already commenting about how either it was impossible to tame wolves, the canines were incredibly cute, or disbelief at how it’d only been an hour and he already did something weird.

“Now, these beautifuls are strong predators. Usually, they’ll avoid humans, but I’m alone and my facepaint makes me seems less like a threat. They approached me pretty casually, not stalking or anything. I didn’t even notice they were there until I looked around again. And they’re much more tame than most wolves would usually be. Again, it’s likely because I seem unthreatening. Please do not try to do anything like this without training. I literally just did this by chance. I named them and they understand their names, but most animals wouldn’t. I mean, Foo Foo Cuddlypoops didn’t. I don’t think he did.”

Avataratlast: Who’s Foo Foo Cuddly Poops? Another friend?

- Banditrocs: Probably an animal.

Keepitreal: how did this dude manage to tame three wolves? it’s only been an hour?! and why does he wear that makeup? i’m so confused, was this all planned? does he have a crew?

- Boomeranglife: You must be new here.

“So, I’m gonna sign off soon, mostly so I can give these three some love. I think the best course of action would be to answer some of my commonly asked questions, tell you all a bit about wolves, and then give you the official goodbye until I get bored enough that my resolve crumbles. That’ll take at least another two hours with the fact that Lemur somehow managed to sneak my notepad into my bag. I wasn’t gonna bring it because I left in such a hurry, but then I’m inventorying my stuff and find it. Lemur’s such a pal.”

“Alright, gotta start the answers so I get cuddle time with the canines. My frequently asked question get put in a list thanks to my subpar hacking skills. Don’t tell Knife I said that or they’ll make good on their promise to lock me in a closet. Let’s get to it.” The screen split to show a list of questions on one side, the wolves on the other. Some of the questions were blacked out, probably due to being inappropriate.

“So, if it’s blacked out, those are hateful, nasty, or have far too many swears. The first question is the same as always, asking what my name is. My response is the same as always. Smiley emoticon. The next is my age. Under 50, above 10. My gender? Male. Is this a profile or something? Seriously, all these are about my identity. Sexuality? I let the people theorize cause I don’t care about what y’all think, unless you’re a bigot, then get off my channel, pretty please with The Moon on top. Real hair color? Hmm, I guess I can probably give you that. It’s not white. Eye color? Not white, either.”

Actlikewater: is everyone getting this?! he’s giving us information!!!

rockbeatsfire: what r y’all getting hyped up for? he hasn’t said anything

- powertoBoomerang: have you watched these before?

- - rockbeatsfire: i watched that parkour one

- - - powertoBoomerang: one - watch them all. two - you need to be more specific, and three - he never says anything about his identity besides pronouns. we have information. we can figure this out!

- - - - CaptainSparky: Are you sure about that?

- - - - - powertoBoomerang: we can figure this out maybe!

“What’s my nationality? Theorize, ma dudes. I ain’t gonna say, so go to one of those lovely blogs. Boomeranglife is really sweet, they’ve got a bunch of videos all about this sort of stuff. Actually, it might only be about my channel. I don’t really know. I just saw one of their videos and started questioning if I really was a Spirit. Ask them, and give them some love. They a nice peep.”

“What is my favorite animal? Either sabertoothmooselion, flying bison, or flying lemur. Is that seriously a commonly asked question? Am I gonna get spammed with artwork now? Do I need to have a lesson on how to draw flying bison and lemurs and all that? I’m gonna do it anyways, and all artwork is accepted, so long as you keep it PG-13. I’m around kids.”

“Am I single? I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. I could be dating Warrior, or I could be stealing Kuzon. I literally have no idea. I platonic flirt with everyone, and I’m horrible at reading social cues when it comes to romance. Wheaty? Apparently had a crush on me until three months ago. They told me when it ended so I would relax and I had to explain my oblivious nature and crippling anxiety. Ballerina? We’re married according to a small town and soulmates if you listen to a certain nomadic troupe. I might even be dating everyone on the team, heck if I know.”

“Am I a bender? Heh, that’s a good one. Can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. Who am I? Hold up, Ima search this.” There was the sound of keys tapping as the screen showed the videographer searching himself up. When the screen loaded, there was a bleeped out sound and the three wolves rushed towards him in concern.

“Holy Spirits! Tui, La, Yue, and Agni! *bleep* I’ve got a Wiki page! They gave me a *bleep*ing Wiki page! I’m not even that popular!”

Livelovemurder: he knows we see this, right

- Boomeranglife: I’m still recovering from him mentioning me, but I don’t think he realizes he is a celeb here

Azulastan: someone get this boy some tea! His video from literally an hour ago already has thousands of views! someone call Bandit!

- SouthernChief: on it! I’ll spam the comments of that last video. Hopefully they respond!

- - UncleTea: Good man/woman/enby!

Livelovemurder: wow, our first reaction to seeing him hurting is to contact Bandit. didn’t she once launch him into a tree?

- UncleTea: that was the first time they were officially friends. now they’re best friends

“Alright, I think we all earned some wolf facts. Did you know that wolves can live over ten years? Pretty long for any wild animal, even longer for a predator in a wasteland like this. Wolves are also extremely expressive for animals, and they’re very social. Wolves can get much bigger than dogs, except polar bear dogs, and despite what most people think, they don’t usually hurt children. Even the really small ones. They’re more likely to adopt your kid than try to hurt them. I personally believe it’s because they’re a lot smarter than most people credit them. Comment #WolfRights below and I’ll see if I can start a movement.”

“Now, I’m signing off once again, so say goodbye to Rookie, Baby, and Fluffster. See ya.”

The second video ended. Comments were pouring in about the clip, and Boomeranglife had already gotten another thousand subscribers in the time it took for the video to be played twice through. SouthernChief did indeed spam Bandit’s latest video, and had the earthbender ignore them until they mentioned that the guy from Boomeraang didn’t think he was popular.

- Bandit: He what?

- - SouthernChief: he doesn’t think he’s popular

- - - Bandit: I’ll take care of it.

Time Skip 5 Hours

The next video was titled ‘Who Sold Me Out?’ The starting screen showed Gurl in their Hei Bai mask, very clearly holding the camera. They waved at the screen before flipping the view around to show what was in front of them. The Boomeraang guy was sitting squashed between what appeared to be several people hiding underneath blankets. He was glaring directly at the camera, face set in a scowl that was once again greatly emphasized by his facepaint.

“Alright, I only got a few minutes to get this out before the others get sick of hiding under blankets. Who the *bleep* sold me out‽ Just because I didn’t realize how popular I am doesn’t mean you needed to call Bandit! Seriously, who was it‽ I’m out on the ice, having the time of my life sketching Baby and Fluffster and Rookie, and then, out of nowhere, Bison is flying towards me with Kuzon and Princess. Then they practically drag me back and I can no longer feel my legs because there’s four people on them. Whoever it was, you’re on thin *bleep*ing ice. I was fine! I was more than fine! I wasn’t the alleged leader of a rebellion!”

“You done?” Gurl asked from behind the camera.

“Yeah, I’m done.” The screen flipped back to Gurl.

“The dude’s been majorly *bleep* off because someone tattled on him. You have the thanks of the rest of us and the anger of one squished Youtuber. He refused to come out of the house, so we all decided to stay in tonight. The protests are over for the day anways, thanks to the fact that the Council is starting to give in. We promised an afternoon of peace so they could discuss it all without worrying. And we’ll be bringing you rebounders to the morning rally as well. NO EXCUSES!” The last words were thrown towards the guy on the other side of the camera, and a loud groan was heard. “He’s gonna do his outro and then y’all are gonna say goodbye.” The view reversed again.

“Signing off for now! See ya, ya traitors!”

The screen cut out.

SouthernChief: i regret nothing

UncleTea: He looked like an angry toddler, OMS.

Boomeranglife: gals! pals! dals! I got big news!

- Livelovemurder: spill

- - Boomeranglife: the NWT is having a bunch of protests all across their cities!

- - - Tyleestan: do we know who’s leading it?

- - - - Boomeranglife: no, NWT is too secretive! i just heard it from a merchant that left as they were starting. we live about as close as you can get to the north pole w/out actually being there

- - - - - SouthernChief: sucks, dudes. next time, for sure

- - - - - - rockbeatsfire: next time there’s a rebellion? does that actually happen a lot?

- - - - - - - Boomeranglife: seriously, watch the videos. I recommend in chronological order instead of by playlists

- - - - - - - - rockbeatsfire: alright, alright, i’m going

[roseprincesskristina]

My Crimson Valentine ((POV))

((Hey people. 😊 Today, since Valentine's Day is just around the corner a little later, I had to write a special fanfic about everyone's favorite crimson hunter getting busy with a certain girl who is new in Abel City to visit him. Plus, it's a POV version for the ladies out there. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this story and Happy Early Valentine's Day 💘💘💘💝💝💝 😊✌))

The crimson hunter, lastly created by the late Dr. Albert Wily, previously known of the uncontrollable maverick who lusts for blood, carnage, even destruction increases his strength along with everything he possesses. Founded by the former leader of Hunter HQ before being escorted to be tested after the ferocious duel against him, until later on when the impossible virus had traveled it way within the strong balded crusader's armored anatomy away from the blonde irregular's helmet to successfully control the new host. Forming from evil to good has allowed him to join the organization which meaning by hunting down crazed evildoers that caused havoc upon peace. Hardly addresses himself as the hero, however to battle against difficult odds such as maverick while for those around that he believes in at heart, for his own will also. Throwing away the corrupted memories of his past which blinded his focus of a better future awaiting ahead as well as to embrace off multiple sadness from his body.

Now, as the irregular destroying commander of the 0th unit, lacking any clemency towards opponents and acts with a "too cool for school" attitude to lower his emotions instead of showing them to anyone expect his indigo comrade in arms. Ranked into an upperclass position, bearing with the energy beam sword for slashing down anything blocking his path. Aiding with his colleagues, brawling baddies, passed onto with additional power ups, the rest during numerous journeys. He is ultimately quite difficult to become defeated when it comes to danger calling him out, but not with assistance to accomplish any tasks at hand. This fearless swordsman in red is named Zero.

At last, slightly exhausted of every beatings along with rescuing the innocent like any super hero would always do, fully relaxed while the daylight is young, the golden locked hunter had peered his eyes towards you into a seductive persona. Lying onto his bed sideways with his hand planted on the manly thigh to await your appearance inside his dorm. Smirking with a satisfying preparation in mind for a guest of honor such as yourself.

"Mmmmm he he he he~... Well well~... Hello to you, my sweet young treat~ What brings you here to MY lair of awesomeness~? Just by looking at your expression, I suppose you're here to visit me or to earn my autograph, right~? Either way, it wouldn't even matter much anyway since I'm bored with nothing to do~ But what really does now is to amuse a cute little lady like you with my irresistible charms to hypnotize my fans~" The upperclassmen spoke deeply with a sexual tone, walking over and takes you by your hand into his room as a welcoming manner by stroking his hand under your chin. Placing you upon his bed. "So, why don't ya come inside and make yourself comfortable until I freshen up for a special surprise in store just for you~ BRB~" He winked at you, rising right out of his bed capsule to change into a different armor.

While waiting for the blush colored host, you would began to take out something from your backpack like a notebook to draw characters, anime or shapes in order to keep yourself occupied. Even to write a journal about your life. It was your time here in Abel City, never have seen or been here before to meet the legendary Maverick Hunter in the flesh. Or perhaps reploid, of course. You hummed while enjoying usual hobbies like in your house, loving nature even to make friends, pondering about such wonderful memories within your thoughts just to keep you happy and lively for the rest of your life through tough times. It truly warms your innocent heart all the way along with emotions, until a surprise sudden has called your attention....

"Hey there, gorgeous~ Thanks for the long wait for me to straighten myself up, didn't wanna get too.... messy around ya~.... " Outside the bathroom despite of his "freshening up" methods, hearing his voice aiming across the roam has made you look away from the notebook that you're drawing and directly at him, who is wearing nothing underneath his armor like the inner black suit, but into a sexy belly dancing attire to suit him quite better out of his under clothing. Revealing not only the body, yet secondly his most flawless treasure known to man: his diamond shaped navel of his abs, placed with an initialed Z shaped jewel inside, similar on his left shoulder. The appearing shade of redness shown itself in your cheeks during your first witness of your host's harden bods of steel completely in front of you.

"Awww~ Did I made ya blush, little girl~? I kinda love it when you look real nervous when you're around me~ Cause it really, REALLY turns me on~" Slurped the bright red sword wielder, approaching his irresistible self towards you, folding his arms behind the brighten locks of his tied up hair. Blinking his sparkling sapphire pupils slowly to create something even more consensual than before or after your arrival to surround you along with everything in his dorm. You began to feel speechless for a fast second, beholding his fairly gifted body before you now when he chuckled.

"Mmmm~ Giving the silent treatment, too, aren't we~? I like that in a human woman~" Anything about you has impressed the saber enhanced mentor even more than busting against his enemies in the hunting days when duty calls. Could be a waste of time, but not as long as you're here to make his life interesting. "So, beautiful~ Whaddya think~? Like what ya see~? Did my abs impress you~? No need to answer cause I'm already aware of that~ Let's put away the notebook and enjoy ourselves, shall we~" He said again, helping to throw away the book off your hands. Snapping his fingers automatically to initiate the sensual music before the beginning of his dance. Once again, you blinked while watching him jiggle his hips to the rhythm, back and forwards non stop. Several visions of him showering the pleasurable has blinded you away from the focuses about your life, being slowly imprisoned filled of little resistance left in your body to fight it off.

"Mmmm~ Damn, you look so delicious when I take a closer look at you~" Licked his clean filled of the starving metaphorical act, circling around you while slowly drawing his finger on your shoulder. "Even though you're a human, but it ain't gonna change the fact or my mind since you're here~ Lemme taste you for a bit to see if you're good enough to eat~ Meow~" He does that right away by licking your cheek, making you fluster into a shade of pink appearing in your face. "Hot damn~ Did my tastes buds lie~? Or is it telling the truth~? You truly ARE my sweetest dessert, babycakes~ Meaning that I'm gonna save YOU for later after my overwhelming performance~"

Dancing very closer to you, caressing all over his glistening armor as well as his body to approach once more. Seducing you by shaking more of his delectable manly hips with his might, polishing the crotch if necessary. Commencing to arouse your being becoming trapped in his grasps to never release or allow you to flee from his inescapable sights, pinning down your body of his hypnotic dance. Then, feeding on your thoughts with his sultry speech.

"It's no use trying to resist my urges, baby~ My body will consume you whole whether you admire it or not so try not to fight against it~" He compelled, positioning his finger into a "come over here" action to brainwash you. "Come on~ Let my poisonous effects absorb you~ Look into my eyes and rid yourself of those tragedies holding you down from your senses~ Submit to me, my innocent slave~ Obey my body forever~ Smoothingly erasing your worries from your mind and replacing them with images of the sunshine haired expert's erotic movements clearing off those irritating dirt of lies entirely out of your peeps, helping you to see perfectly even by looking at your maverick hunting host shaking his money maker for you. Complying his demands with the lack of free will to shield yourself away of something elegant, you had no other option but to surrender by gazing straightly at him into the middle of his dance. 

"So~ What do you think of my stunning bods, little lady~? You like it, even when I punish myself for being a bad boy~? Hmm~? He he he he~ Then I'll take that as a yes~" He moaned while speaking to you sexually. "Well, how about I give you.....this to change your pretty little thinking~? Continually to please you the hardest, he would slowly remove the pierced jewel from his stomach. Placing it on the desk table. You would be able to watch carefully of his special present only for you to see instead of others, but your mind says to resist it for this "nightmare" will haunt you in your sleep forever. Once the gem has been confiscated out of the body, he "accidentally" insert one of fingers deeply inside his ravishing navel.

"Whoops~ He he he he~ My bad, darling~ Didn't mean to cause an accident to you like that~ Or did I~?" Grinned the A Class sword fighter, planning his act on you in the first place by circling deeper into his belly button. Extending out his tongue to rock it like in the concert to party all night, siding with shaking his thighs of continuation towards the dance.

"Unh~ Unh~ M...Mmm god, it feels so nice~" He spits out his longing yet magnificent moan all the way from his mouth trying to dash for freedom, drilling his finger into the dark cavern of the stomach more further. Pleasing you to death with every inch of his power but quietly. Over and over he punishes his stomach hole without trying to stop himself. "Ahhhh~ I love massaging my navel during off duties at peace~ It really takes my mind off of killing enemies~ But, I couldn't hide it from somebody so tranquil and quiet like you~" He refers to you, winking to arouse his guest by "cleaning" his deepen abyss of a stomach hole further. You slightly blushed from his unseen hobby, attempting to look for an escapable exit. However, nothing could ever work because of the frozen spell of his seduction pinned you down on the seat. 

"Oh yeah~ Yeah~ Mmmmm, face it, pumpkin~ I know you wanna see me ground my deep, luscious, tasty, warm navel of mine for being very naughty~ Don't try to deny it~ You CAN and WILL love it when I play with it~ Or better yet, to let you taste it~" He spoke toward at you, placing a torturing spell which is impossible to break. More shades of red pinkish flustering substance had yet again made its appearance in your face, eyes stretched of shocking discovery, heart pumping in a repetitive beat. It's as if you have seen a boy band member saying your name to climb up onstage or earning a first gift. But this, right up front, is even more breathtaking than both all combined at once. 

Forwardly into your ear, his calm voice enters within your mind. Purring seductively due to his obsession with his new plaything like you to have fun with. 

"Purrrrrrr~" No matter how much you try or do that could drive the spell from your consciousness, that too, is unstoppable to leap out of. "It's already too late to back out from me, doll~ Cause there ain't gonna be an exit to save you now that you're all mine~" He said, tilting your head directly to him by his hand grappling your cheeks. "You know, before I met an adorable birdie like you, all I ever do was fight off maverick trash all freaking day without getting a single break, which is completely boring for my taste~ But now here you are, making my life a living heaven than hell like in my usual  days as a hunter~" You nodded while listening. "I really like you that much, despite of being a human, but still~ " He comes at you, proceeding towards your face. "As a matter of fact, you mean the world to me, Valentine, and that's why.... I wanna taste and suck your irresistible at the same cause I'm so  famished~ So, let's kill off the idle chat, shall we~? And lemme give you something to make you.... remember me in your dreams~ Let me kiss you~ So~ Badly~....." With everything pushed out of the way, the stern yet handsome reploid in red inserted his lips into yours deeply. Drinking the life out of you with a craved thirst before resuming his belly dancing routine. His perfect smooch has gave you a further blush.

"Mmmmmmmm~" So forever long, he softly yoinked himself from the perfect smooch given to you and licked. "God, you taste even better than the rest~ So delicious~" Swallowed the smirked hunter, enjoying your clear lips until he continue his undodgable dance of lust to please you rapidly. Secondly, the glorious cave of a navel to pleasure or play with as well.

That trick, especially the breath stealing kiss, had forced you to have a nosebleed right away from his unavoidable surprise than earlier before. Without holding any grudge against the blonde host's perfect symbol of desires that shuts down all worries from their minds, the only chance you have is to submit towards his beauty and enjoy it, refusing to turn back. Zero smiled gladly at you, wanting more of his fascinating dances to ease your boredom aside in the garbage where it belongs.

"So~ Finally enjoying my gift, huh~? Good girl~" He smiled rapidly, resuming his lustful dance for your enjoyment. "I'm so proud of you for cherishing a pleasant gift I rained on you, sweet treat~ For that, here's another one from me~...." For following his directions of the pleasurable belly dance, the handsome rose themed ex maverick lays his hands onto your soft cheeks while you are a little prepared for something much more....appealing? However, you have to allow him by accepting the second present until finally, he mashed his lips gently into yours. Tongue and teeth.

"Mmmmmm~....."

Your eyes started to open widely because of the seeping smooch warming up your whole heart upwards to 100%, blushing darker than earlier. While you slowly responded back, he continues to sink his kiss into your lips all day long, never to get enough of your existence for one minute just to stomp on his doomed past like an insect. Non stop after separating himself from lip locking with you, he continues his beautiful entertainment by dancing, especially navel pleasuring, to please you more than the first act while you're gazing towards him with both hands placed under your chin. Directly in front of you, he blow a kiss at you for further mood at peace.

"Mmmmmwah~..... Mmmm, thanks again for keeping company to shut up my boredom today, cutie~ You're just the one who never gets tired of my unbeatable charms~" Winked the high ranked blade user, impressed by your company to sleep away his exhaustion from dealing with endless hordes of irregular rabble rousers all the time. You replied with a nod, watching permanently of your die hard android in light burgundy with all your heart no matter what. Enjoying both his company, even the erotic dance as well.

He may become of the lone wolf type reploid who refuses to gain anyone's assistance during heart throbbing missions, roughing up tough mavericks without problems whatsoever. However, fighting alongside friends to be stronger foes than him or enemies combined has made the yellow headed mentor even too powerful other than his base state. Because companionship can make any dream succeed so long as everyone remains by his side always, even the true Maverick Hunter should realize this. Furthermore, no crime lovers including the inhumaniods baddies could ever escape from the beam sword bearer of Abel City when it comes to disasters knocking on the town's door without regret. But for now, he is finally relaxing during his off duty with the only person in store to interest his company instead of all else: You.

"Happy Valentine's Day, ladies~ Feel free to visit yours truly anytime~ Mmmwah~💖"

[srhlsx]

Rewritten & Reposted March 24, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 13 | CHAPTER 14 | Ch. 15

After that night, something changed between you and Bokuto. It was a subtle change, but a change nonetheless. He didn’t kiss you as often as you’d like, and while sometimes that drove you crazy enough to want to pull your hair out, it was enough to just have those moments together, those lingering touches and too-long stares that made your heartbeat a fraction faster. 

One change in particular came in the form of regular study dates. 

Bokuto was not the most serious student, he was planning on mostly relying on his athletic ability to get him into the school of his choice - or if he was lucky enough, go professional as soon as he graduated. You reminded him that getting into the school was only half the battle, in order to play he needed to actually keep up with his grades. Studying with him was like trying to wrestle a puppy into a travel carrier while also having a toddler balanced on your hip with your hands tied behind your back… oh, and the room is on fire.

“You have got to sit down.” You sighed as you eyed the boy pacing circles around the counter in your apartment kitchen. Baba had offered to have Yua and Eiji over for a few hours that day to allow you time to get studying in without having to worry about them. You’d pick them up for some dinner later if you were ever going to get in the work that was needed.

“But I’m bored.” Bokuto whined, finally collapsing dramatically at the table across from you. He had been banished to sitting across from you rather than next you when for the first fifteen minutes of studying he spent insisting that he would be more productive with you sitting in his lap. He propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he attempted to give you some of the best puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “Can we take a break, (Y/n)-chan?”

“Don’t butter me up, we just took a break.” You laughed as you looked back to your notes in front of you, the ins and outs of biology were thrilling in their own right but Bokuto had a smile that could probably get you to do anything - so you looked away from him. “We don’t get to take another one for at least 45 minutes.”

Bokuto let out a loud huff and sadly looked back down at his own study materials. They weren’t as sloppy as you might expect them to be, but you were almost positive that was because Akaashi helped him when needed. His handwriting was small and scratchy, but the different colors he wrote in and highlighted with showed that he cared at least a little bit about what was going on in his classes. 

At the moment, he was working through some chemistry problems. When you first started studying you went and dug through your past school work and happily handed over your old notes since you’d taken that class a previous year. When he opened up your notebook, his eyes widened considerably and had repeatedly glanced between you and the pages before him. You had looked at him with a closed-eye smile and tried not to blush when he complimented your thorough notes.

“This is amazing,” He had breathed, amazed.

You laughed at his expression and responded confidently, “Yes, they are.”

He shot up then and reached over the table, his hands grasped either side of your head and dragged you clumsily over the table, messing up your neat organization. He smashed his lips against yours, smiling as you momentarily struggled through your surprise. “I owe you,” He grinned after pulling away and sitting down like he hadn’t just kissed you within an inch of your life.

Now though, the thrill was gone for him and every once in a while he would let out a small grunt, like he was clearing his throat. You glanced up at him only briefly while turning the page, keeping your attention where it needed to be. “You need a drink?”

“I need your attention,” He whined again. You would never admit to him that his neediness was almost endearing, the way he looked at you could’ve melted your heart in any other situation. 

“Give me twenty minutes on this chapter, then I will help you with your review?”

“Can we play a game?” He asked, eyes lighting up brighter than a firework.

You hesitated, “A game?”

“Yeah, like a study game!” He nodded, attention finally seeming to be productive. This newfound motivation intrigued you, so you humored him and encouraged him to continue to explain his idea. “Well, you ask me a question and if I answer it right you have to take off-”

“Do. Not.” You interrupted, laughing hysterically, while yelling above his voice. “Even think about finishing that sentence!”

“What!” He cried out, seeming defeated that you wouldn’t even consider his idea. “Hear me out!”

“This is not some kind of teenage rom-com, Bokkun!” You continued to laugh as he visibly deflated from your rejection. “I am not stripping my clothes to help you study.”

“What if I strip my clothes to help you study?” He countered flirtatiously, leaning forward on his hands across the table to get close to your face, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“We both know that’d be even more of a distraction,” You mumbled. The thought of Bokuto lifting his black volleyball t-shirt over his head, muscles rippling across his chest, stomach, and arms, had you just about drooling as your mind drifted. But before he could really take advantage of your momentary weakness, you pushed his face away and made him sit back down.

“Worth a shot,” He sighed, which made you laugh again.

*

“Not going to lie, that last one was a doozie.”

You looked up at Rumi and frowned, your brow creased in confusion at her comment. “You’re the one who said taking an advanced English literature class would be fun.”

“It is fun,” She shoved your shoulder. “The exam itself was just long as ~hello…”

You turned to face forward to see what your friend was looking at. Ahead of you, just at the entrance to your school’s campus, stood two lone male figures looking very out of place.

One was wearing a white shirt, red tie loosened around his neck, black sweater vest, and grey pants. The other wore a white collared shirt and grey blazer pushed half way up his arms, a loosened striped blue and white tie, and black pants. They both could not look more cool but also more out of place in the sea of students wearing the green, black, and pink uniform of your own school. 

You smiled at Bokuto and Kuroo both as you walked up to them with a hop in your step, wondering how they managed to get all the way to your school in time for the end of the day dismissal.

“Both Nekoma and Fukurodani dismiss third years as soon as exams are done in the morning,” Kuroo explained when you asked.

“Yeah, we test straight through the day then peace out as soon as we’re done.” Bokuto slung his arm around your shoulders and easily pulled you into him, not having a care in the world that there were plenty of people around.

“You guys are lucky,” You whined, stomping your foot and looking at Rumi who nodded in agreement and was standing close to Kuroo. “We could’ve gotten lunch!”

“Well, maybe one of these days I can convince you to sneak off on your free period and meet me,” Bokuto smiled down at you, pulling playfully at a lock of your hair and laughing when you swatted him away.

“Corrupting girls of others schools?” A voice behind you laughed loudly, making all four of you turn. “Seems beneath the two of you.”

Bokuto and Kuroo both smiled as Daiki led a few members of the boy’s volleyball team up to greet them, all doing some weird handshake thing that guys do. You didn’t miss the fact that one third year in particular made a point to be a little less enthused than the others, completely ignoring Bokuto altogether. 

You saw the slight twitch in Bokuto’s face when Shouta deliberately said hi to Kuroo but not him, the look of real confusion made you start to feel like the temperature around you was rising. You felt worry starting to grow in your stomach, Rumi also taking note of your sudden uneasiness. 

Being who he was, Bokuto was not going to ignore the fact that he was being ignored and made a point to greet the other third year. “Shouta, ‘sup man?” He held out the hand that was not currently wrapped around you for the other boy to shake but was left hanging.

Everyone stopped, whether they were in mid-conversation or just listening they paused and held their breath. At this point, the rest of the boy’s volleyball team knew that you had rejected Shouta but you weren’t sure if they knew everything that was said between the two of you. It had been a few weeks since the interaction and both your teams were too busy to talk, much less gossip about what was happening between players. You waited, along with everyone else, for what was coming next.

“Bokuto.” Shouta nodded curtly, even though he wasn’t nearly as tall as Bokuto, he gave off an air of looking down on the two of you. “Didn’t think you normally slummed around these parts.”

“Well, yeah,” He smiled, completely oblivious (or at least doing a damn good job acting) to the tension brewing. He looked down at you with an almost loving smile and nodded your way, “I told (y/n) we’d get some food after her exams were over. You guys sh-”

“Listen, man, nobody really gives a raging fuck about why you’re here.” Shouta interrupted, shocking the entire group with his crude choice of words. 

“Chill dude,” Kuroo stepped forward. “You brought it up, man.”

You noticed how Kuroo stepped up to stand next to Bokuto, neither of them flinching in the slightest. Even with calm expressions on their faces, you could tell from their eyes alone that they were not going to back down from anything that was about to happen. And they shouldn’t, they easily had the height and weight over Shouta and it didn’t look like the rest of the Shinzen team was gearing up to come to his aid. 

You felt a tug and looked over your shoulder to see Rumi pulling on your uniform jacket to get you to step away from the brewing confrontation in front of you.

“Why are you even here?” Shouta then asked, looking over at Kuroo with narrowed eyes, giving him a once-over. “Following around the super star like his little sidekick? Or just fishing around for the next girl to try and sweep up like your buddy here?”

“Shouta- '' You started to warn, noticing Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s jaws clenching but neither of them saying or doing anything.

“No offense, (y/n), but honestly fuck off.” You, along with everyone in the group, gasped in surprise at the hash comment as he enunciated each word. “It’s one thing to be hanging around the creep, but seriously having him come all the way out here to pick you up? I mean, how much attention do you n-”

CRACK-

Before Shouta had a chance to finish his terrible words, and before you even realized what was happening, your fist collided with his jaw. A satisfying crunch sound filled your ears as he fell to the dirt in surprise, looking up at you in shock as he held his jaw in pain, a few tears threatening to spill over his eyes. You were seeing red.

“Fuck you, you bitter bench-riding fuck.” You said in a rage, spitting each word. “Maybe if you were half the man he was you’d get more playing time and girls would actually be interested in you.” 

You were about to continue on your spree of insults when you felt a pair of hands grab onto your arms from behind and start to pull you away. “Alright bruiser,” Bokuto’s familiar voice was close to your ear. “I think he gets the idea.”

The four of you walked briskly down the sidewalk, away from the dramatic scene. Bokuto had his arm slung over your shoulders again, holding you close like he needed to keep hold of you out of fear that you’d go back and finish what you started. You could tell he was trying not to laugh, the situation being very serious considering you’d pretty much assaulted someone on school grounds. He continued to lead you away, never looking back to see if anyone was following or going to say something.

Once you’d rounded the corner a few blocks away, Kuroo burst out in a maniacal laugh while Rumi came up to you and grabbed you by the face. “You absolute badass.” She said, laying a dramatic kiss on your forehead. “Fuck that guy.”

You shyly looked away, coming to the realization of your horrific action. You looked down at the hand you had punched the boy with, clenching and unclenching it in a fist. “Damn,” You somewhat laughed, shaking out the lingering sting and looking up at Bokuto. “That felt really good.”

Bokuto smiled and squeezed your shoulders a little tighter, laying a kiss at the top of your head. “That’s my girl.”

[foxydangerfluff]

Glitch in the System

The first time, it was an accident. Phaedra didn't mean to perform an act of outright villainy. All she wanted was to break into the vault, just to prove that she could. But two things happened that day: she discovered how much fun villainy was, and she saw the Azure Vixen in action. Vixen was the city's local superhero, a fact of which Phaedra had been superficially aware. It hadn't really mattered before, but now? Well, now it mattered a lot. Seeing Vixen up close and personal had been an... interesting experience. Phaedra, thief and hacker extraordinaire, bit her lip, a flush creeping up her neck. She'd gotten away, but for a moment, she hadn't wanted to. So she devised a plan.

The second time she went face to face with Vixen, it was months later and she'd pulled off quite a few heists in the meantime. She'd finished before the superhero could arrive, and with some amount of frustration had retreated to her headquarters without seeing the fox. This time, however, she'd taken a calculated risk. The job would take a while, and she'd be exposed for a good deal of it.

As if on cue, Vixen arrived to take her down. Phaedra (or Glitch, as the papers were calling her) had to blow the system. "That's a lovely tail you've got, Vixen!" she called even as she fled the scene. When she returned home, free of her alter identity, Phaedra congratulated herself on being able to say anything at all, even if it wasn't as witty as she would have liked. --- The next few months were cat and mouse games between the two of them. Vixen would say something dutifully clever and sly, and Phaedra would sometimes respond in kind, and other times would sputter something out. The media at least was in her favor; they only ever published the witticisms that passed between the two of them, heroine and villainess. Phaedra knew that a subculture of the city had started to ‘ship’ them, and she was young enough to know what that meant, and infatuated enough to be embarrassed. (She would never admit that she'd submitted a 'fan' theory or two.) There were other villains in the city, of course, and other heroes, all of varying degrees of dastardly or heroic. Phaedra never killed; she was a thief, not a murderer. And the media eventually discovered that she really only stole from corrupt organizations. Phaedra was, well... not a hero, exactly, but not the pure villain that others were. She'd seen the term 'anti-hero' bandied about a few times, but never paid much attention to it. She got better at laying traps, both real and digital. Other heroes would get ensnared, and she'd be long gone before they could reach her. She even tripped up Vixen a few times, but true to her name, the heroine was elusive. Phaedra was convinced the other woman never made mistakes. When Vixen got tripped up by one of the more vicious villains, it came as quite a shock. Phaedra had long ago found out where Vixen's headquarters were, even if her actual identity was locked down tight. After seeing the news and finding out how badly Vixen had been injured, she decided a visit was in order. --- Phaedra knocked politely on the door of the house. It was out in the suburbs, at the edge of "city" and "rural". Plenty of space for a hero to train and recuperate away from their identity. The house itself was listed as belonging to Sylvia Wilde, though she suspected that was just another identity, used to give Vixen some amount of privacy. She tried not to fidget on the doorstep, keeping herself relaxed. Just as she was about to knock again, the door opened, just a sliver. "May I help you?" came the husky voice that could only belong to Vixen. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, miss, but I have a delivery here for someone at this address." Phaedra held out the bouquet of multicolored daisies. She'd arranged it herself, and had even included a card (carefully devoid of any evidence). The door widened, and Vixen frowned down at her, calculation flickering in her eyes. She took out the card, her eyes narrowing briefly before she gave a small shake of her head, chuckling softly. "Thank you for the delivery. Do you need me to sign for anything?" For a brief moment, Phaedra wondered what Vixen's signature would look like. Would it be sharp and angular? Loopy, flowery, feminine? Some combination? One could tell a lot about someone from their handwriting, after all. But the moment passed, and she beamed, shaking her head. "Not at all, miss. You have a pleasant day!" She retreated from the steps and to the (borrowed) floral van, giving Vixen a brief wave before the door closed. Once she had driven out of sight, Phaedra gave a silent cheer. She'd made progress, even if it was under somewhat false pretenses. --- While Vixen was out of commission, Glitch laid low a while. Internet speculation either had her out of the country, plotting something truly extraordinary, or simply bored while her favorite superhero was recuperating. Phaedra did not go to the home of one Sylvia Wilde again, though she sent two more bouquets, each with personalized cards. "To the foxiest lady I know, Get well soon. You are missed. - MissingNo"

It wasn't a real encryption by any means, but she wasn't about to use either of their alter egos on the cards. There was no telling who might take a peek. (Though she thought the reference to the glitch Pokémon had been a stroke of mild genius on her part.) Still, the time was not spent idling around. Phaedra did, in fact, come up with a delightful scheme that involved taking down the villain who'd hurt Vixen in the first place. She even had a follow-up plan, with a specific goal in mind. --- It wasn't easy, but she dealt with Snare, and even kept it reasonably quiet. The media made no comments on it, no one assigned her name to it. It really was as if he had just... disappeared. That he was in prison escaped notice entirely. Well... almost entirely. Vixen had figured out a little, herself, while she was out of action. A simple vase with a few flowers was in front of her headquarters that evening, with a simple, typed note attached. "Missy, Thanks for today. Sylvia"

Phaedra went to sleep with a smile on her face that night. Maybe things weren't so bad, after all. --- It took several weeks for her other plan to take root. Phaedra did very little in public. In fact, the Internet was oddly concerned at the lack of any Glitch action. She was touched, if somewhat confused. Apparently people liked a villain with morals. She spent a lot of time at her computer, long hours poured into hacking this system or that one. While this was not meant to be her grand finale, it would be a masterpiece... and she really hoped it would pay off. Finally, it was time. Armed with her traps and a small bit of liquid courage, Glitch stepped out into the night. The smartphone she used for her heists was in hand, and once she was in position, she used it to remote start the dozens of programs she'd installed across the city. All but the most important lights went out, district by district, until only a soft glow remained where there were smatterings of traffic lights. (So sue her; she had morals, after all.) Glitch had an excellent vantage point from a nearby skyrise, and watched with pleasure as the city stadium lit up, its giant screen coming to life with the message she'd told it to display. "VIXEN, ARE YOU READY?"

The letters flashed, bold and bright and obvious against the dark backdrop of the city. "I AM WAITING."

Glitch tightened the harness around her waist, testing the line. This was a theft she'd been dying to pull off since the moment she'd laid eyes on Vixen. "COME AND GET ME."

She dove off the building's roof, following the line down, down, down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see movement. The pale blue glow that was part of Vixen's natural abilities (what had led her to be a hero? Phaedra wondered, not for the first time) glimmered to the side, following her descent with ease. As if on cue, several of her more harmless traps and diversions went off, slowing the heroine down, tripping her up. (It was all a ruse.) The end of the line was near; the ground was growing closer, and she wondered what would happen when she reached it. The villainess never really found out. Vixen pounced from the shadows, tackling her and rolling them both along the ground. Surely they would both have bruises by the end. Before she could struggle to her feet, Vixen had her pinned down, golden eyes staring out of the kitsune mask she wore. "Show's over, Glitch. It's time to admit defeat." Phaedra smiled as if she were playing a marvelous joke. "Ah, but you see, I have one last weapon." She gripped a (harmless) bit of tech between her teeth before withdrawing it, careful not to swallow. "You must get it from me. Creatively." Vixen paused, her head tilting at the woman beneath her, before she slowly lifted her mask up to reveal an amused grin. "You know... if you'd wanted a date, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to take over the city."