#hes stimming in the first picture if that wasn’t clear

[sandeewithtwoe]

One idea that i really like for human Ink is that as more happy/positively emotional his hair gets more curlier and frizzy but when negatively emotional/sad, his hair just turns straight??? I think it's a neat idea tbh (totally not inspired by Pinkie pie)

YyyyyyyYYEEEEEEESSS!! I LOVE THAT IDEA!!

Moments before throwing up ^

And what if, instead of just his hair turning straight when he’s feeling negative emotions, it becomes more white/gray when he’s running out of paint! :D

Silly guy!! He’s so silly!!! I love them so much!!

Ink belongs to comyet/myebi

[surrender-souls]

just finished the diabolical box

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

[ineffablesnakegender]

A little bit of autistic Janus for your soul <3

Hurt/comfort fic in which Janus has a meltdown because his of his hair (based off of true events in my life) and is comforted by the rest of the squad

Familial dlampr

Characters: main character Janus, Remus, Logan, Roman, Patton, Virgil, Thomas mention

First time writing in a while so please be easy on me also sorry if formatting is weird

If there was one thing Janus hated it was his hair. His hair that would constantly fall on his forehead and become a disgusting distraction. His hair that tickled his ears and sent him into a frustrated flurry. His hair that was now all over the bathroom floor. He hadn’t meant to do it, really he hadn’t, but he had become increasingly frustrated with his hair through the month. You see this whole thing started when Janus decided it was time to finally do that big stack of paper work from the lies he had told at an obnoxiously loud and irritatingly bright party that Thomas promised to go to for his friend.

Janus was sitting there at his desk and was hunched over his work, and with one last wriggle of annoyance, he had finally finished with the large stack of papers, now with every box checked I dotted and t crossed, Janus looked up from his desk and the first thing he noticed before he had gotten the chance to straighten his back was, of course, the wretched mess of itchy, bothersome hair that was now doubled in length sense the last time he checked. Janus grimaced and mumbled some colorful words directed at the ever so unaware strands that sat atop his skin, stretching his back and standing Janus noted to himself the mess he had made on his desk and promptly added cleaning it to his to do list choosing instead to be rid himself of the scratching at his neck, ears, and forehead.

It had been about a week since Janus cut his hair but the phantom itching persisted causing Janus to, on more than one occasion, consider asking Remus to simply cut his head off to make the insufferable feeling go away.

Another week passed and the itch was still not gone and Janus just couldn’t stop focusing on his hair, the way it fell into his ears and forehead and ran up his neck, it was as close to torture you could get without any actual torture involved, and Janus had just about had enough of it, and to make matters worse whenever he would tug at or scratch his hair even a little to much Remus would always be right there with a “Dee you are bleeding!” Or “Janus you’re pulling your hair out!” Didn’t he see that was the goal? Well the blood was just a side effect but it resided the pain of the ants crawling on Janus’ head.

Another week and Janus was ready to snap, NO, he had snapped! Janus would refuse to be without a hat on and even that was irritating to his skin, only small bits better that the hair on its own. He made the decision he had just cut it to long and so, in the middle of the night, Janus crept his way into the bathroom trying to be as quiet as possible and picked up the scissors. He had only intended to cut a little bit but it wasn’t enough and so he cut more hair off and some more and just a bit more just one more chop and soon he found him self reaches for the clippers and completely shaving his hair down to a thin layer of spikes. By now he was crying, his increasingly manic race to rid himself of the painful feeling forcing him to spiral into a frenzy of cursing, shaking, and stimming frustratedly, he had abandoned being quiet somewhere between the crying and the clippers and as he turned the clippers off their quiet but oh so loud buzz stopped abruptly and Janus could finally hear a very concerned Remus on the other side of the locked door, when had he locked the door? He reached up to unlock the door, when had he sat down? Remus flung the door open.

“Janus are you alright?!? What happened?!!” Remus spun his head around until he found Janus on the floor, who was suddenly not crying at all?

“Janus-“ Remus cut himself off with a sigh “what are you doing in here?”

“Why were you yelling kiddo?” A very anxious Patton said from beside Remus, when had the others got here?

“I was?” Janus finally said after what felt like forever. Patton let out a very concerned noise that Janus failed to catch his head spun in captivating circles of emotion.

“Yes Janus the whole house could hear you” “and then some” Patton said cut off by Roman who’s head appeared out from underneath his velvet sheets, Janus shivered at the thought of it, velvet? Seriously Roman velvet? Do you enjoy pain?

“Sorry guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Janus said far to nonchalantly for Patton’s taste. A long silence rung out from everyone as they all seemed to get what had happened and collectively waited for Janus to come back from his spiral, Virgil and Roman backed off from the situation, Logan and Patton went to prepare things to possibly help the situation such as water, Janus’ favorite gloves, and a heating lamp that Janus liked a lot. Remus just stood in the doorway and kept watch over Janus as his brain cleared of the fog and static that prevented Janus from being able to process what had happened.

“I’m bleeding.” Janus said so quiet it was almost a thought.

“Where? Do you want help?” Remus said equally as quiet

Janus nodded and pointed to the back of his ear and sure enough a small River had formed down his neck and seeped into his shirt.

Remus healed the wound without touching Janus as much as possible and after a while the two of them walked to the living room where Patton and Logan where setting up Janus’ favorite fidget toys and sensory gadgets. Janus immediately snatched up the black and white chew necklace that was in the shape of a crystal. He flopped down on the couch tired from the emotional outburst.

It was already the afternoon by the time anyone spoke next, everyone trying to give Janus the necessary time to cool down. It was Janus who spoke first.

Everyone was in the living area reading or listening to music through headphones or doing some arts and crafts, something quiet to let Janus rest, and Janus himself was simply sitting on the couch and watching everything around him.

“….thank you..” he whispered out “for helping me..” he looked entirely too unbothered but anyone who knew him could tell he was everything but.

“No reason to thank us Janus it’s not like you choose to have a meltdown.” Remus responded distracted by the bloody picture he was drawing.

“Yes but still… it means a lot to me.” Janus smiled the smile not reaching his eyes but still genuine.

They all silently agreed that it was ok to be noisy again and life went on as normal, but Janus would never forget the incident. Sure he had had meltdowns before but it was just him and Remus then and while Remus always did a great job and tried his best he didn’t always know what to do. Janus felt lucky and loved more than ever when he was with everyone and he knew deep down that no longer would there be days where Remus was left to scramble to help him because they weren’t alone anymore and he knew it would always stay that way forever.

[maybedefinitely404]

Not Your Typical

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort (kind of?)

Pairings: romantic Demus, Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: some language, autistic character, sensory overload, mentions of losing friends in the past, anxiety, unintentional self harm, Roman is kind of a jerk but he regrets it, food mentions, unable to eat certain consistencies, beach/water/swimming, Janus being a disaster gay, ASL, selective mutism.

Word count: 6k

Comments: Like always, I don’t intend for these to be so long. Holy cow.

Janus is written based mostly on my experiences as someone with autism, and how it’s affected my childhood/relationships/daily life. No one’s experience is the same.

Janus was always alone. Alone, not lonely. 

Most of the time, that is. 

His whole childhood was an endless cycle of make a friend, weird them out, be alone. Find another friend, weird them out, be alone. And sometimes it hurt, yeah, but he got used to it. At home, he spent the entire day in his room, assembling structures out of legos before tearing them down and starting over. Sometimes he’d build something really cool, and that would stay up for a long time. He didn’t have any siblings, and his parents didn’t give a whoop as long as the floor was generally clear, so no one ever bothered the space ships or towers or just really long lines that stretched from one wall to the other. He liked those. 

Things changed when he got to middle school. Life started getting real, people became more than just recess friends, and that unsettled him. He made a couple close friends, friends that he really opened up to only for them to leave him when he became too much. He just couldn’t help it though; he couldn’t help the way he bounced when he got so excited he couldn’t breathe, or how he couldn’t use words when he got overwhelmed by the touch and the noise, or how he couldn’t stop talking about his favorite shows or books. He was labeled as childish. It was like a label had been stuck to his chest that read “avoid at all costs”, and people did. 

So he relearned how to be alone. He put a lava lamp next to his bed for when he needed something constant to look at, he got a collection of chewy necklaces and stim toys that never left his room. After a lot of research, he convinced his parents to buy him a weighted blanket for when every touch was too light, too agonizingly light, and he needed something firm to ground him. At school, or really around anyone, he learned to control his more obvious stimming and touch sensitivity by staying in oversized sweaters and jeans. He taught himself basic sign language for when he couldn’t talk, even though he knew his parents wouldn’t understand him. They took forever to learn basic signs, for ‘water’ or ‘quiet’ or ‘no’, and both eventually got frustrated and gave up. As if their frustration was anything compared to his. 

It was going great, not perfect but better than before, until he graduated high school. Suddenly he realized he was about to move halfway across the country, to a new environment with new triggers and new people who didn’t understand that he wasn’t frowning because he was pissed, but because smiling when you didn’t understand the reasoning was exhausting. Why do people smile and greet you when they enter the room? Why couldn’t that be more of an… understood thing? I’m here, you’re here now, we both know that, so why bring so much attention to it? For once his parents were kind enough to help him out, taking him to the campus during the summer to get acquainted with the surroundings and learn the map by heart. He talked to the admission’s counselor, explaining his disability and why that meant he couldn’t be on the side of campus near the highway, because the constant noise and common sirens would make him explode. They were eventually able to move him to one of the other buildings, one with apartments instead of dorms, even though that was generally only for third and fourth years. It took a load off his shoulders; less noise, less people. The one thing he couldn’t do was meet his roommates before the year started. 

The school got them into contact, and since he was the last to be assigned to the six person pod, they added him into their pre-established group chat. The other five already had nicknames, ranging from ‘Dad’ to ‘Rat Bastard’, and he immediately felt like an outsider. Not like that was new to him, though. Except, he didn’t stay like that. When one of the group, ‘Nerdy Mcnerd’ on the chat (he’d long forgotten their actual names), asked him what he liked and he immediately sent a list of special interests and hyperfixations, the top being snakes, it was like a door had been opened. Nerdy Mcnerd was a fan of space as well, and the two stayed up until all hours of night on their own chat discussing space and their place in the universe. Rat Bastard had an affinity for what people would categorize as “creepy animals”; octopi and squid, spiders, star-nosed moles, and most importantly, snakes. Their conversations mostly involved dopey pictures of snakes and unintelligible key smashes and emojis. Emo Disaster shared his love of darker themed TV shows, and they started a couple new ones at the same time, constantly updating each other with theories. When he mentioned his major was psychology, Dad was immediately overjoyed to be sharing the major with someone, and offered to help him study for the harder classes. He didn’t hit it off quite so well with Princey, who was put off by Janus’ so called “moodiness” and didn’t trust him. 

When they finally met, it was supposed to be great. Janus knew the environment, somewhat knew his roommates, and was surprisingly excited for the new year. His joy was suddenly vanquished, however, as meeting these people face to face took a turn for the worse. Dad, Patton, immediately tried to go for the hug when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and was slightly taken aback when Janus reared back so hard he hit his head on the wall. The glee disappeared and he apologized profusely, and that’s when Nerdy Mcnerd, Logan walked in, explaining that Patton was very physical. They were over it rather quickly, but Janus shuddered as soon as the other two turned to each other. They had already claimed one of the three rooms for themselves, so Janus chose the one furthest into the apartment. He dropped his suitcases next to one of the two beds with a deep sigh. The thought of a hug… no. It unsettled him greatly, made his skin crawl. Maybe one day, but not now. 

Emo Disaster and Princey, Virgil and Roman, arrived later in the day, hand in hand, bickering animatedly when they walked into the apartment. They were greeted with a huge hug from Patton and a side hug from Logan, and that’s when Janus recalled that they had all been roommates the year prior and again, felt a small tinge of pain. He was still the odd one out. Virgil gave a two finger salute to where Janus was sitting curled up on one of the bar stools, knees pulled to his chest and for the first time, Janus didn’t feel compelled to give a forced smile in greeting. It was a relief. The small nod was all that was needed. Roman however, was a different story. When they happened to make eye contact for the first time, the taller man still standing in the doorway, Janus flinched. Hard. The man’s eyes burned through him, as if scouring through his brain, eyes so full of passion that Janus had to look away. Eye contact was only an issue for him sometimes, but with Roman, it physically hurt. Which only made the theatre major more suspicious of him. As he passed him on the way to get a glass of water, the taller man blurted out, “You’re a first year, why are you in a third year building?”, earning him a gentle smack from Virgil. He answered with a lame shrug and rushed back to his room, conceding to just go to sleep, regretting leaving his drink on the counter. 

No one besides Janus was surprised when the door burst open at three am and a loud voice screamed, “I’M BACK, FUCKERS!” He was frozen in place, woken with such an adrenaline rush that he couldn’t move. Outside, the other four exited their rooms with varying levels of annoyance and delight, greeting the final member of the group. Remus, as Janus heard them proclaim, was his roommate, the only two dwellers not in a relationship. The gremlin burst into the room, a deranged smile on his face, and Janus wanted to cry. Why did he have to be stuck in a room with the loud one? But Remus saw the mismatched eyes poking out from under the blanket and with no hesitation, sunk to the floor next to the bed, still smiling but a million decimals softer. 

“Hey, Snakey. Sorry to scare ya. I’m Remus, but you can still call me Rat Bastard if you want. Call me whatever, I don’t really get offended. You go back to sleep, I’m gonna get settled in. We can talk in the morning.”

Janus wasn’t planning to fall asleep, not with this new person in his room, but Remus was shockingly silent as he unloaded his things (he packed a bunch of garbage bags, not even a suitcase or box), and he couldn’t help the way his eyes slipped shut. 

First semester came to a close, and he was equally delighted and horrified that everyone was staying on campus for break. It had become harder and harder for him to avoid movie nights, or family dinners (as Patton called them), or days they all went into town together. In the beginning, he put it off to being tired. Then, studying for exams. Now with school halted for nearly a month, he was out of excuses. It was getting to the point where he could feel the frustration from his roommates, and he wanted to admit how much he wanted to spend time with them, until his drawer full of secret stim toys and chewy necklaces called him back. At times, he let himself spend time with them. Baked something with Patton, talked about the stars with Logan, sat with Virgil as they studied, and it was good. He never was able to escape Roman’s cynical glares that made him absolutely shudder, but he got on much better with his twin. 

Remus never minded if Janus only greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he was okay to have more one sided conversations while Janus drew, or after a few weeks, stared unapologetically. Because god, there was so much about Remus that Janus couldn’t help but watch, even if a normal person would get uncomfortable by his wide and unblinking eyes. Luckily, Remus was no ordinary person. But the younger still kept the drawer to himself, only allowing himself to nom on the plastic or squeeze the orbeez filled squishy snake with intense fascination when he was alone. So every time he was with the others and felt the need to stim or infodump or was about to have a stress induced meltdown, he would excuse himself and leave without so much of a goodbye. He couldn’t, not in front of them. Every time he left, he could hear Roman’s quiet remarks about him that stung more than he wanted to admit. 

He’d had so many people leave, people he allowed himself to get close to, only for them to see the side of himself he tried to hide. In his heart, he knew that part of him wasn’t bad. It was just him. Other people didn’t understand that, though. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that no one would judge him, or laugh at him because they weren’t like that, he was scared. The effort was wearing him thin, and it came to the point where he realized he had to tell them. He had to, or he would burst, and that would be way worse.

It was just three little words: I. Am. Autistic. And he’d explain everything, tell them about his stims and limits and how he needed space sometimes and hugs others, and spill everything about himself, and they’d accept him. They’d have to, right? Only, the night he was planning to blurt out the truth, something stopped him. 

They were eating dinner, one of the only ones he’d attended in a while. Patton kept glancing at him from across the table as he picked half heartedly at his lasagna, distracted from the lively conversation between the twins and Virgil. The whole thing was speckled with bite sized pieces of mushrooms and zucchini, two of the foods that he couldn’t eat to save his life. The texture made him want to recoil into himself and scream and yank at his hair, and he’d learned early in life that that wasn’t a normal response to food. He wanted to explain to Patton that it wasn’t the meal itself he was avoiding, that it wasn’t Patton’s cooking that he didn’t like, it was just the texture of those two things. 

Well, maybe that was a good gateway into his big announcement, if you could even call it that. It felt almost as scary as his coming out to his parents had been. If they didn’t take this well, he might be exiled from the group. If they tried to put up with them, they’d get irritated so quickly and slowly freeze him out. He really didn’t want that. It needed to happen though, he realized. How much worse would it be if one of them walked in on him having a meltdown, holding a pillow over his mouth to block his screams, biting almost animalistically on a necklace? How unsettled would they be if they saw him hitting his blanket pile out of repulsion of the feeling of his textbook pages? Better to warn them ahead of time. It was only luck that had gotten him this far.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Logan hit the table with the heel of his hand and let out an almost guttural scream before storming into his and Patton’s room, slamming the door behind him. Janus nearly fell backwards off his chair, matching Virgil’s surprised expression. Roman went silent, wincing slightly.

“What…” It was the first word he’d said the entire meal. Patton whipped his head towards him as if he’d forgotten he was there, a sudden sympathetic look on his face. He gave a weak smile.

“Sorry about that, kiddo. Logan has autism, sometimes he can’t handle the stimulus around him. Or maybe he just had a rougher day than I thought. I’ll check on him after dinner, give him some alone time.”

Logan has autism.

Logan has autism. 

Oh my god.

It was like everything clicked into place. His passionate talk about topics he was interested in that could rival Janus’ (if he would ever let himself infodump like he wanted). His mannerisms, his occasional emotional outbursts, his rigorous unbreakable schedule, it all made sense. For a brief second, Janus was elated. Someone like him, someone who understood! And if they accepted Logan, maybe they would be able to understand him, even if they presented different areas of the spectrum. 

But… how would that look? Janus had hidden away his neurodivergent traits for so long, repressed them until he felt like he would literally explode… what if they thought he was faking it? It’s not like they knew him well, not with the amount of time he avoided being around them. They might think he was lying to get attention, didn’t want to be left out. Wanted to be special.

Patton seemed to be waiting for a response, he noted. He gave a curt nod, hoping it displayed that he was unbothered by Logan’s disability, before giving a stupid excuse about some reading to finish over break and darting back to his room. Remus joined him later, saying nothing about the fact that Janus was huddled under his weighted blanket, no book in sight. He sat down in front of the bed, a common habit of his now, and began to quietly talk about some new dark fantasy story he was designing, his lilting voice soothing Janus to sleep.

Time passed, winter came and went, and the end of second semester was drawing near. Janus was still careful with the way he presented to the others. They had picked up that he didn’t like physical contact, and though they never said a word about it, Patton’s lasagna recipe shifted, kept changing, until it no longer included mushrooms and zucchini. Janus refused to believe it was for his sake, though. He tried to join them for a couple movie nights, but the constant fear of stimming made his anxiety spike, therefore finding the need to stim more compelling, until he had to leave. It was getting harder, however, now that it was that pleasant in-between time where he understood how his new profs worked but it wasn’t exam season yet. His excuses were dwindling. Like always, Roman made his stupid quips that hurt him more than was probably intended, and he’d finally had enough. 

Maybe that’s why he was staring out at the open lake in front of him, hands playing absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt as Patton and Remus squealed, sprinting into the water without a second thought. One of their shirts had landed on Janus’ sandaled foot, and he quickly kicked it off as the light touch began to irritate him. Logan stood to his side, watching his boyfriend with an almost imperceivable smile. 

“You guys could have helped carry stuff if you were just going to stand there!” Roman’s indignant voice carried over the lawn, muffled slightly by the pile of towels he was carrying. Virgil snorted, whether in agreement or at Princey’s expense, Janus didn’t know. Either way, he dumped his handful of lawn chairs unceremoniously onto the lawn at their feet. 

“You two set these up then. I’m hot, I’m going swimming.”

“Damn right, you are,” Roman grinned. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m hot, or I’m going swimming?”

“Yes.” He didn’t give any of them a second to retort, scooping up a shrieking Virgil before sprinting them both into the water. 

“They didn’t even take their shirts off,” Logan commented, picking up a chair from the pile and unfolding it. Janus quickly joined in, helping him set the four chairs into a line and placing the towels down in front of them. “Did you want to go swimming?”

Admittedly, Janus hadn’t actually gone swimming, much less to the beach, since he was a kid. He was lucky to have even found a swimsuit amongst his other barely worn clothing; how it had snuck into his suitcase, he didn’t know. The water looked inviting and it was hot, but right now he was exhausted from the long ride over in Remus’ truck, having to refrain from plugging his ear when it got too loud or maintain his breathing carefully when a leg touched his.

“Maybe in a bit. I’m kind of tired.”

Logan turned to look at him, dare he say scrutinizingly? He washed the expression away quickly, asking, “Would you like me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Janus mumbled, “You go have fun. I’ll be fine, I like the quiet.” As if to punctuate his point, a child screamed from the playground, making them both flinch.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes. Go enjoy yourself, Logan.”

He nodded curtly, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluent motion and walking towards the waves professionally, as if he were walking towards a lecture. Patton cheered from the water.

Janus didn’t concern himself with the time as it passed, instead letting his mind wander while he focused on a line of ants that were crawling up a tree next to him. It wasn’t until a fast approaching form caught his attention did he tear his eyes away, hearing him give a shout of “Be right back!”.

Remus plopped himself onto the towel next to him, still panting from the run, but grinning from ear to ear. As he ripped open a water bottle and drank greedily, Janus couldn’t help but stare. Water glistened on his skin like jewels in the afternoon sun, plastering his hair down over his jaw and eyes. His eyelashes were barely fluttering against his cheekbones as he guzzled nearly half of the bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The jut of his shoulder, almost touching his throat, taking his weight as he leaned back on his arm… the whole thing was fascinating. People interested Janus as a whole; the way they functioned, how they seamlessly picked up on little cues from others that Janus was still in the process of figuring out, even down to intricate biology of cells was incredibly captivating. But Remus was so much more than that. His voice when he spoke him to sleep, never mentioning it the next day, the way his dark eyes glimmered with hope when Janus agreed to eat with them, the twitch of his moustache as he covered a laugh at Patton’s corny jokes. 

He was art, plain and simple. 

Janus didn’t know if what he felt was romantic attraction. It sure felt like it, except it had never felt quite like this before. It wasn’t that he was asexual or anything, he was actually decently far from it. It was just how uncomfortable most physical contact made him that gave him the idea he might never have a partner in the way that he wanted. He wanted to hold hands, to cuddle, to kiss… but at the same time, he didn’t. That is, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. Sure, he’d had crushes in the past, cute boys from his classes or celebrities in the shows he hyperfixated on, and still the feeling of uncertainty had stayed. With Remus, something was different though. Never before had a crush ever felt so breath stealing, chest clenching, awe inspiring-

“Like what you see?” 

Janus flinched, realizing Remus had finished drinking and was beaming at him with that stupid gorgeous gleam in his eyes. He looked at his lap immediately, feeling his face heat up. 

“Sorry.” 

“Not a problem,” Remus smirked, having the audacity to wink at him before standing up. “I’m going back in. Coming?” He reached out his hand, hopeful. Janus took a breath, acknowledging that this was his first time initiating contact since he’d arrived, and grabbed Remus’ hand. The surprise on the other’s face was almost enough to make him laugh. He pulled the younger to his feet, keeping a firm hold in Janus’ hand. And… that was okay. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The second his feet touched the sand, it was like alarm bells exploded behind his eyes. He couldn’t describe it, but it felt wrong. It gave in too much, light sprinkles of sand covered the top of his feet and instantly every nerve was on high alert. He ripped his hand from Remus’, stumbling backwards onto the grass again. The elder spun to him with concern.

“Snakey? What happened?”

“I- hmm, no. I can’t. Nope. No no no. Wrong. It… hmmmm. Can’t.” The last word dragged out as his brain seemed to disconnect from his mouth. His mind didn’t work, so focused on how every blade of grass was swiping along his soles too softly, too gentle, too much. His hands had curled into fists and he was fighting against everything inside him to scream bloody murder, because oh god the wind was brushing the hair onto the back of his neck and it tickled and make it stop make it stop!

Janus could vaguely hear someone shout, and the loudness floored him. Get away, get away, it’s too much it’s too much. The feeling of the grass was gone, and he was sitting on his beach towel, but the wind was still brushing his hair too much, so he grabbed at it uselessly, begging it to stop, stop, stop. 

“What’s happening?” Roman.

“Is he okay?” Patton.

“Does he look okay?” Virgil.

“Janus, breathe. You’re safe.” Logan.

 Yeah, he knew that. He knew, objectively, that the wind isn’t out to get him and grass doesn’t hurt and sand isn’t supposed to fry your nerves. That didn’t change the fact that it did for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it connected that they were seeing him have a meltdown, finally. But he couldn’t focus on that, not when someone was touching his arm why are they touching my arm LET GO! 

He screamed now, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His breaths were ragged and gaspy, hands ripping at his hair to try and stop the fluttering strands. Then there was a new sound, an engine, a boat, and with it came the deep bass of some terrible music and there were people shouting and his head was hurting, why was it hurting so bad?! New hands grabbed his wrists and he writhed, pulling back from the grip that was pulling his fists away from where they’d been hitting his skull, over and over, trying to just get his stupid brain to work. Come back to the present, ground yourself, do SOMETHING!

And then something was in his hands. 

His eyes peeled open (when had he shut them?) and he saw the dark blue stress ball, almost crushed between his fingers. The hands were gone from his wrist, and he took a deep breath, relaxing his hand and watching the slime filled toy slowly return to its natural shape. It was just like one from his drawer, the first stim toy he’d ever gotten. Familiarity. He kneaded it under his fingers, enjoying the comforting texture, the color soothing to his sensitive eyes. Bit by bit he felt himself relax, still holding the toy inches from his face between stiff hands, letting his legs unfurl. Without thinking, he raised a shaking hand to his chin and did the sign for ‘water’, and immediately regretted it. It was just such a habit around his parents, the only other people who had seen him break down to this extent, how could he be so-

He flinched as a water bottle was pressed into his raised hand, the lid already taken off. The water was so good, settling his senses and grounding him, like he’d been in hyperfocus before and it was dulled now. He gave the stress ball another squeeze, captivated by the way the slime moved, not even flinching as someone snapped in front of him.

Looking up for the first time, his first instinct was to crawl into a hole and die. Logan was sitting in front of him, slowly putting the cap back on his water bottle before handing it back to Patton, who was standing just behind him. Roman and Virgil had begun packing the chairs and bags agonizingly slowly and quietly. Impressive; they were almost done and he hadn’t noticed until now. He turned to his left and his heart completely shattered. Remus was sitting statue still, a few feet away, with a look of pure fear in his eyes. He sat on the edge of his knees, like he wanted to pounce forward and hug him but was holding himself back. He appreciated that. 

Logan snapped again and Janus turned back.

‘Better?’ He signed slowly. 

‘You know sign?’ Janus responded weakly, confused. 

‘Patton too. I go nonverbal as well. Are you okay?’

The younger nodded, returning his hands to the stim toy on his lap. ‘Yours?’

‘Yes.’

“Is he okay?” Remus whispered suddenly, drawing their attention. He looked so scared, like anything could break Janus and he was scared he would cause it. Oh. Did he think he caused this?

‘Not his fault.’

Logan looked between the two, a look of confusion settling in his face. “What?”

‘Not. His. Fault.’ He signed sharply, a frustrated hum emitting from the back of his throat. ‘Not his fault!’

“Remus, he’s saying it’s not your fault. What does that mean?”

“I- I took his hand, and then this happened…” Remus started, leaning back onto his feet ashamedly, “If that wasn’t the cause, what was?” 

‘Sand.’

Logan’s eyes filled with understanding, and he responded, ‘Sand?’ as if to double check that he got the right sign. Janus nodded again, slightly thankful for the mute state he was in. He wouldn’t be able to explain this as well as Logan would. 

“If I’m understanding right, then my first assumptions were correct. Janus, did you just experience a sensory overload?”

Janus could only nod, meeting his eyes shakily. This is the moment. Now is his segway. If Logan wasn’t already suspicious, he surely was now. And he’d rather not have to explain, or come up with some half assed excuse if he was confronted later on why sinking his foot into sand had made him break. 

 ‘I’m autistic.’ He fingerspelled it, not knowing what the sign was, or if there even was one. There was a beat of silence, the twins and Virgil exchanging puzzled looks, and Janus couldn’t even bear to look at the two people who would have understood. All his fears came rushing back. Would they think he was lying, or seeking attention, or or or-

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton crooned, sitting cross legged beside Logan, “We thought maybe… well, the possibility came up in conversation before. Lo was the one who brought it up.”

“Yes. Though our experiences differ, you seemed to exhibit symptoms that are common to the ASD spectrum. I thought it feasible, but did not wish to offend or frighten you by mentioning it.”

“We thought that if you were autistic, it would be yours to tell us,” Patton smiled softly. 

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “Janus, you have autism?”

Janus’ nervous glance up must have been enough to clue the rest of the group in, because Roman sighed and ducked his head into Virgil’s shoulder while Logan messily signed something which roughly translated to ‘how dense can someone be’. Jan couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, but he cracked a smile anyways.

“Shit. Dude, I’m so sorry,” Roman murmured into Virgil’s shirt, “All the times I made fun of you for not joining us or anything, that was way out of line. I truly apologize.”

The youngest gave him the worldwide gesture for ‘it’s okay’; not exactly ASL, but it got his point across. Everything was packed up now, and Janus realized the implications.

‘Home?’ He asked Logan, eyebrows scrunched together.

‘Yes. You need to rest.’ He was right, he was exhausted. Getting to his feet along with Patton and Logan, he reached down to grab his towel, only for it to be promptly swooped up by Roman.

“I… I got it. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

As soon as Roman turned his back, Janus couldn’t help his heavy sigh. This was another reason he had refrained from telling anyone. He didn’t want to be seen as a burden, or worse, a child. He didn’t need help with menial tasks like grabbing a towel. Virgil and him lifted all the belongings again, with less complaining this time, and began the short trek to the truck.

‘He’s not babying you,’ Logan signed, as if reading his mind, ‘He’s just guilty. If you want my advice, get as much out of it as you can.’

“Logan!” Patton chastised, failing miserably at hiding a smirk.                            

“Guys?” Remus’ uncharacteristically timid voice prompted them to turn back, “Could I talk to Janus for a sec?”

“You understand he is unable to speak at the moment, correct?” Logan raised an eyebrow, probably coming off more harsh than he meant to. 

“I know. Just… please?”

The other two shared a knowing look that Janus didn’t understand, before Logan turned to Janus. “Is that okay?”

The youngest nodded, watching over his shoulder as the lovebirds joined hands, leaving him and Remus alone. When he met his eyes again, he was standing much closer, eyes searching nervously.

“Maybe this will actually be easier since you can’t talk,” he laughed, before his face fell dramatically, “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean-”

Janus held up a hand quickly, as if to say ‘it’s fine, settle down’, holding back a snicker. He’d understand if someone was upset by the comment, but he’d learn to take Remus’ jokes lightly. He never meant to actually offend, sometimes he just… blurted without intending to. He rolled his finger in a ‘keep going’ motion.

“Shit. Okay,” He’d never seen Remus blush, or stumble over his words before. Not like this, at least, “Now, don’t feel obligated to say you feel the same or anything, okay? This is just, my feelings, and mine alone,” A deep breath, “I like you, Snakey. I like you a lot. More than… more than a friend.”

Oh.

Oh.

Janus was ninety percent sure he died right then and there. But Remus kept going, tripping over his words in a way that was so unlike him, and yet so perfect.

“I have for a while. I never said anything because I thought, maybe you disliked me? After today though, I think… well, maybe I was misinterpreting those signals. Like I misinterpreted today. That you didn’t want to be around me, no matter how hard I tried.”

Okay, Janus took it back. He wanted to be able to talk now, but his voice came out as another low hum, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Remus pressed on, unfazed. 

“Snakey, I swear to you, that you having autism doesn’t change those feelings at all. It’s not a bad thing, or a flaw, it’s just you. And everything about you is amazing, and perfect, and this is just another thing I get to learn about you. Any fears you had around telling us, telling me, you don’t need to have them.”

He’d never felt this kind of feeling before. In that second, he knew for a fact that this wasn’t a crush that he had on Remus. That wasn’t possible, because a crush had never made him want to break his social barriers like this. A crush had never made him want to make an exception, to stand on his tip toes and kiss him, even if the thought of a new touch usually caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. Because he felt so safe, so blissfully numb, so comfortable with Remus, that he’d be willing to give it a try.

This wasn’t a crush. This was-

“I love you,” Remus whispered, his statement accompanied by a large shaky breath.

He couldn’t say it back, not right now. Later, he would. For sure. Maybe a hundred times. So he did what he’d never thought possible and took that step forward, breaking his bubble that he’d always thought to be unbreakable. 

It’s okay. You’re okay. This is okay. 

For once, he actually believed it.

Janus reached a hand up, slowly, and rested it on Remus’ face. It wasn’t light, he couldn’t do half touches. It was solid, warm, real. Not a tickling touch that made him twitch, or a brush by that stole the very breath from his lungs. The positive response affirmed his will power, and he leaned up onto his tip toes. Remus looked absolutely stunned, but he didn’t pull away, he couldn’t if he tried. His breath caught in his throat as the elder glanced down, an unmistakable look to his lips.

Had Remus always had those green flecks in his eyes?

And he kissed him. Janus surged forward, pressing their lips together harsher than he’s intended, pulling a small gasp out of Remus. There was a whoop from the vague direction of where they’d parked, followed by a loud smack, and Janus couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

Remus’ hands were clasped at his chest, unmoving, probably afraid that if he touched Janus wrong, this would all be over. He’d have to explain half touches later. For now, he took one of his hands in his free one and guided it around, pushing it into the small of his back until Remus got the message to keep that pressure. He let out a small sigh through his nose, an action that sent a new round of butterflies exploding in the younger’s stomach.

This is okay. 

This is all going to be okay.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Your demo in a relationship headcanons were simply aaaaaaahhhh!*chef kiss* could we maybe have some for everyone's favorite aussie stringbean?

I absolutely love Sniper...he’s one of those characters I can just fall back on. I also just like Australian accents, especially when he speaks in a low, intimidating voice. Gets me every time. Makes me either blush or happy stim whenever I hear it.

First Date:

You find Sniper on a dating app after a particularly bad break-up.

His profile picture is of him shirtless, holding a huge gun next to him. However, instead of looking sexily into the camera, he’s looking off camera with a bewildered look on his face.

His bio says, “My friends put me up to this. Don’t expect too much. If you go on one date with me maybe they’ll shut up. Who bloody knows?”

You get curious, and you decide to start a chat with him.

“Your friends put you up to this huh? 😏”

“yeah. what of it?”

“What, are you some lonely wolf type or what?”

“you could say that.”

He was texting back almost immediately. Even if he wasn’t a lovey-dovey person, he was certainly interested.

“How would you like to get those friends off your back?”

“i’m free wednesday.”

You make plans, which, despite only seeing this as a one-night stand, you gradually get more and more excited for.

You meet Sniper at a nicer restaurant, wearing a new black dress that you hadn’t worn yet.

When you finally see him at the lobby, you realize that the picture didn’t do him justice, even thought he now had a beige suit on.

His lankiness showed a bit more, but his arms were very strong despite his frame. He was wearing sunglasses, which added an air of cool refinement.

At first you thought he was British because of his texts, but when he spoke, you knew right away he was Australian. You are far from disappointed.

You are still waiting for your table when all of a sudden, Sniper takes out a huge knife. Before you can react, he quickly slices something out of your vision and then brings it before your eyes. You had forgotten to take the tag off your dress.

“I’m flattered. I didn’t think you’d get all shinied up for me.”

You breathe out shakily and rub your neck. Sniper’s eyes furrow.

“I didn’ nick ya, did I?”

“N-no...just s-scared me...”

You thought maybe you had met up with a psycho, and all your suspicions were not put to rest yet, but the close encounter seemed to awaken something in you.

The date continues as normal. Both of you are pretty awkward at first, especially since the knife incident. But before the main meal is brought to your table, you’ve started up a conversation.

Sniper told you he was in the military, but his base is very lax with dress code and schedule.

You start telling him about your job as a graphic designer when all of a sudden a scream interrupts you mid-sentence.

There’s a guy holding a gun about eight tables from you, pointing it at the many patrons. He doesn’t seem drunk, but just enraged.

“WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET SOME DAMN FRIES?!”

The manager tries to talk to him, but ends up getting shot, most likely dead.

The yelling continues for about fifteen minutes. You are very uncomfortable, not to mention terrified, but Sniper seems oddly nonchalant.

Suddenly, Sniper yells, “OI! THEY’RE BRINGIN’ OUT YOUR FRIES! RIGHT THERE, MATE!”

The guy follows Sniper’s finger, and all of a sudden there’s a gunshot. But it wasn’t from the madman’s gun...it was from Sniper’s.

The guy falls over on top of the bleeding manager, writhing in agony.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Sniper grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the restaurant.

“Dishes it out but can’t take it, eh luv? C’mon, we’ll go to my place. It’s real nice.”

You get into his van, which smells like a mixture of old leather, beef jerky, and...something else. However, your terror quickly trumps your logic.

“First Time”:

Despite your fiasco of a first date, you still decide to stay at Sniper’s until it’s all blown over.

His apartment is covered wall to wall with guns, memorabilia, and sticky notes, usually with names and dates written on them.

On the far wall was a cork board filled to the brim with pictures, yarn, and Xs made in thick red Sharpie.

“If I woulda known it would go this far, I woulda tidied up the place. Sorry about that, luv.”

You brush it off, and you both sit on an old leather couch with bits of stuffing sticking out of it.

You take this as a cue to get around to what this whole date had been about: some sweet, sweet rebound. It seems awkward now that you had gone through so much - besides, you hadn’t expected to connect with Sniper the way you have...

But you still manage to spit it out.

“Er...yeah. That’s what people usually do, right? Yeah? I dunno. I’ve been off the playin’ field awhile.”

Sniper puts his hands around your neck and let’s you begin to kiss him. But it was clear after a while he wasn’t into it, so you pull away and ask if he wanted to wait another time.

“Aw, no, shiela. Look at me, lyin’ ‘ere like a dead fish...I just...I’ll try ‘arder, luv, I promise.”

You pull away completely. This had trauma written all over it, and you weren’t about to force someone into it...you were better than your ex.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You asked him what was wrong, and why he was being so passive about what was happening to him. Why didn’t he say anything? Do anything?

Sniper sighed, pulling his hat way down in front of his face.

“I like girls, don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that. But I never felt...that way about ‘em. Or anybody else, honestly. I tried it once in college...I just ended up feelin’ sick. Tried it with another girl, then another, then another. I even tried with my guy roommate. But I always ended up feelin’ like I was gonna puke. Sometimes I did. It just never felt right. It wasn’t magical, it was bloody disgusting.”

“But every girl I’ve ever been with expected it, and to keep ‘em, I ‘ad to do what they wanted. Sometimes I’d just lie there, tryin’ not to vomit, trying to at least move a little, act like I was into it. They said they’d change my mind, that this time would be different. At the end of the day, it never was, and I lost ‘em. And now I’m gonna lose you too, ‘n I’m gonna halfta tell the guys...they’ll never let this go...”

Back At The Base... :

Spy called the entire team into the security room to watch the entire date go down. He had placed a bug on Sniper’s suit while helping him adjust it, and now everyone was here to watch the show.

Everybody cheered when the guy was shot, though Spy made a mental note to call Miss Pauling in the morning.

The whole team, Scout especially, was excited to see some action when Sniper brought you to his apartment. Well, everyone except Medic. He stood their with his eyebrows creased. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Aw, c’mon Snipes, what’s the hold up?! She is so inta you!”

There wasn’t any sound, so no one exactly knew why Sniper paused for so long.

Finally, you two came back together again, but after about thirty minutes of just kissing, the other mercs got bored really fast.

Scout was especially disappointed.

“Man, this was whole thing was a bust!”

Spy shrugged. “Not quite a waste of time. Look at her. She’s smitten. I never thought I would say this, but gentlemen - we have found Sniper a suitable suitor!”

Medic, eyes wide, kept his Sniper’s medical history too himself - not for HIPAA, but for the drama of it all. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Love At First Shot:

On a casual date at his place, Sniper catches you admiring one of his weapons.

“That’s one’s a beaut, ain’ it? That’s one ‘a my oldest guns. She’s outta service, the old girl, but she don’t look a shot over thirty.”

He picks it up and cocks it, nodding approvingly.

“Got this offa real bloody fruit seller. The muzzle ‘ad stains all over it, rust in some places...the bloke obviously had no idea how to take care of it.”

You suddenly feel a pang in your chest.

“Oi, luv, not a fan ‘a guns?”

“No...I...it just made me remember something.”

Sniper puts down his weapon, sits on the sofa, and pats his leg.

“‘Ere. Tell me about it.”

You hesitate for a moment before shyly sitting on his knee. You’re on the smaller side, but you were still afraid you might hurt him.

“Aw, it’s alright. Put your full weight on. These babies can ‘old an Aussie an’ an AK-47.”

You giggle, letting yourself get a little more comfortable.

“Now, luv...what’s on your mind? What’s that pretty lil’ head a’ yours thinkin’?”

You sigh.

“My boyfriend...or, my ex-boyfriend...we broke up for a reason. Or, well, I dumped him. We had been dating for almost three years, and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Crazy train crashed inta the station, huh?”

“He almost did. He...he had hit me before. I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. But one night...it got really, really bad. He wasn’t even drunk. He was still in his work uniform. I stayed with a friend, and I told him it was over with a text - I was just so scared he’d find me. He knew my friends. He knew my address. And so I just wanted to find someone to protect me. It was more than just rebound...I just didn’t want to be alone. I wanted one person in my life he didn’t know so they could protect me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you bit them back. You didn’t feel like sobbing in front of your new boyfriend. Sniper, though, started laying down, taking you with him.

Your head was now under his chin, and you were laying all along his body. The sudden show of affection caught you off guard. You started to cry, burying your face in his chest.

Sniper wrapped his arms around you, supporting your entire weight easily.

Neither of you spoke for a good fifteen minutes, except for Sniper saying an occasional, “Aw, sweetheart...”

Finally, you calmed down, feeling safe in your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Y’know, luv...”

Sniper hesitated.

“I...could teach ya how to shoot. If it’ll make ya feel safe.”

You sniffle and look up.

“I know ya probably want some big, strong man to protect ya, an’ I will. God, if anybody even touches a bloody ‘air on your ‘ead, I’ll kill ‘em. But I wan’ you to go to the movies, or the store, or just ‘ave a nice walk an’ not be lookin’ over your shoulder. I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

“I...I can’t shoot a gun...”

“Why not?”

“I can’t...aim or shoot...I don’t think I’ve even held a gun before...”

“Well, we can fix that! ‘Ere...”

Sniper leans over and picks up his old gun again, laying it in your hands. It’s a bit heavier than you expected.

You run your hands over the muzzle and barrel, not even daring to touch the trigger.

Sniper puts his hands over yours and guides them over the gun, giving you more confidence about handling the weapon.

“A gun is like...like a dog. You train it right, an’ you train yourself, you’ll be fine. You’re no kid, so you know ‘ow dangerous these can be. But fear doesn’t shoot the bullet. Fear doesn’ aim for ya.”

Every time you went to his apartment, he would do this. Sometimes you two would be talking, and he would nonchalantly hand you the gun, which, after a while, you took without thought.

Now it was time to take you to the range.

He gave you that old gun to use as practice, but promised a newer, more compact gun when you had gotten the hang of shooting.

Hands on your shoulders, hands over yours, he taught you how to target a person’s more sensitive areas.

Over the next few months, you grew better and better at hitting your mark. You weren’t perfect, but you could definitely defend yourself.

One night, Sniper went to go get you both Chinese food, and you were hanging out at your apartment.

You heard a knock on your window. You ignore it, thinking a bird had flown into it by accident. However, as the knocking grew louder and more insistent, you lift your head, startled.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

He was in a suit, but his face wasn’t nearly as neat. His eyes were red and wide, and his hair was messy.

He had walked up the fire escape to your balcony, and was leaning against the rail, relaxed.

You stayed inside, but you knew that the door was unlocked - he could come in any time he wanted. And he knew this.

He spoke, and you could hear him through the glass.

“Still single. Just like I thought.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I came back because I was worried. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...I thought maybe something had happened. You were so depressed when you left. I couldn’t help but think that maybe...well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and I am more than willing to be with you again. I think we both have cooled off, right? We’ve had some time apart, and now we’ve realized we’re madly in love with each other and can’t be apart for another minute...”

“I have a new boyfriend!”

You blurted it out so suddenly you even surprised yourself. But your ex was unmoved.

“Oh, right. Sure. How much are you paying him, this boyfriend of yours? Do you have to pay extra for sex, or do you have a pity discount?”

“He...he’ll come back...and...”

You looked beside you. Your gun was laying on the floor beside you. Sniper had just taken you to the range, and you hadn’t had enough time to put it away.

You remembered what he said...

“I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

You put your hand around the gun, grasping it tightly.

You swallow.

“Come back and what?” your ex jeered. “What’s your new boyfriend going to do? Beat me up?”

You are still trying to make your decision when you hear the glass door open.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, angel. I want to see your beautiful face.”

You whip around, the gun in your hand. Your ex immediately recoils, his hands flinging up.

“Woah woah woah...!”

“Please. Leave.”

Your voice is hoarse, but you try to sound as firm as possible.

“Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I would never get back with you. Ever. You...you made me feel so helpless, scared, alone...I can’t feel that way forever. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I want you to leave and never come back. Please. Just leave me alone.”

Your ex smirks, albeit shakily. “You can’t shoot that. You’ve never touched a gun in your life.”

“My boyfriend wanted me to be safe. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to be able to deal with creeps like you.”

You get up, gun still in hand, and your ex backs away.

“He did more than you ever did.”

“What, so you’re just going to shoot me? End up on the six o’clock news?”

“No. I won’t. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to leave. For good.”

“I bet that thing isn’t even loaded.”

You show him a half-full magazine and point to the fire escape.

“Like you know how to -!”

You quickly turn to a picture of a seaside landscape, shakily aim, and manage to shoot it, shattering the frame to pieces.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex practically runs out, yelling that he was calling the police.

Sniper comes back a few minutes later, and when he asks you what the hell happened, you start telling him between trembling breaths what had occurred.

Sniper turned bright red and tipped his hat down.

“That bloody wanker...fruit sellin’...”

He starts to walk towards the fire escape, but you stop him.

“I scared him off, please don’t...he said he was going to call the police...”

Sniper took a few deep breaths, calming down.

“We’ve got th’ best lawyers in the country. I’d like to see ‘im try.”

The police was never called - you think it was probably a pride thing, since you had overpowered him so easily - but you weren’t sure you had seen the last of him.

But with your own experience and Sniper’s, you had some piece of mind.

However, you were soon going to find out that Sniper had more power on his side than you thought...

*****************

Long time, no headcanon! Well, good headcanons, anyway. I rushed my last post, so I tried to go all out with this one. I might write a second part when headcanons are open again, but I think I prefer leaving some things up to the imagination, hm?

Anyway, more headcanons on the way! Same bat time, same bat channel! The next one is about siblings, though I may post shorter headcanons before that, since it’s such a fun idea to write.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Monsters and mushrooms

Tags:  @salamancialilypad  @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee  @ashintheairlikesnow   @haro-whumps   @moose-teeth @vickytokio​ @yet-another-heathen​ @orchidscript

A Nature fun fact: Bioluminescent mushrooms do exist actually and snails have the habit to foam when distressed in order to deter predators and protect their soft body from tiny satans like ants.

Chapter 4

CW: emotional overload, negative stimming, fear of abandonment, hints at past abusive parent

Sahar hasted up to the farm, stumbling on the crooked steps.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to cry but he’d forgotten how to stop and the world around him dissolved into a melted aquarelle painting of leaves and grass and roots as he stormed past the house. 

He wedged himself between the root and the old stump they chop firewood on, eyes fixed on the axe still rammed inside, his back hitting the root over and over and over again, while he purged all the unwanted feelings from his body through movement. 

There would be bruises tomorrow, Sahar thought when his violent rocking finally slowed into a gentle rhythm.

His lips trembled around one long shaky exhale and his tears finally subsided. Their tracks were only crusty streaks of salt water now, not overwhelming aches.

Sometimes, Sahar hated his body, hated it for being overwhelmed by the stupidest things, hated to have a brain full of misfiring neurons at war with themselves. A brain that made it unbelievably more difficult to exist, as what he was, in this world.

Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment.

But for what?

“Sahar?” Moira’s head peeked over the root and her worried face peered down at his cowering form. “There you are, sweetheart.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, only tugged his knees tight to his chest, ready to hide his face from whatever scolding was to come.

There had always been reprehension when he hadn’t been able to behave himself. Until all of his mother’s angry words hadn’t been enough and she’d abandoned him. At long last. 

Ugly icky fear gnawed away at his insides, a sharp toothed beast he desperately wanted to banish but couldn’t. He rocked up against the root once more. Let his shoulder blades collide with it until he  felt the scratch of rough bark through his grey linen shirt.  

Sometimes his thoughts paused, stayed on safe routes and away from the maelstroms of his ever racing mind when he rocked or tapped or hummed enough. But now was no such time. .

Sahar’s thoughts spun and spiraled. Crashed violently into one another on their collision curses.

Please don’t throw me out. Away. I can behave. I can be disciplined. I promise. I promise. I promise. Please!

The curtain closed and left the window dark.

“Sahar?”

Wait.

There were no curtains here.  And no city streets. No concrete roads or bleeding knees.

Only warm earth under his fingertips. 

A long grass blade brushed his calf and Sahar closed his eyes to focus on the barely there tickle against his skin. The expansion of his ribcage, how it filled with the lavender scented air, inherent to his home, on every inhale and his eyes fluttered open.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Here. Here. Here. And I can stay.

Moira began to heave Asmodea over the root with a loud huff that had Sahar instantly uncurl and twist around to take the snail with a firm, gentle grip from her arms. The snail immediately clung onto him as best as her soft slimy body allowed, wiggling in exasperated little waves until Sahar finally sat back down and put her over his lap.

“There, there baby. There you you you, there you  go.”

He couldn’t help but smile as Asmodea draped herself flat over his legs, making no move to retreat into her shining shell. It’s brown and black stripes still shimmered from the shower Sahar had given her yesterday. 

“Sahar? Can you listen to me?”

Hunching protectively over Asmodea, he gave a hesitant nod.  “Yes.”

Moira didn’t like it when she had to repeat herself. It made her livid when he or Ansgar ended up absorbed in one-

Ansgar.

Something hot and heavy lodged itself in Sahar’s throat at the memory of his furious gaze. Ansgar had never looked at him like this, ever before, but Sahar realized why, now, after he had a moment to collect his racing thoughts, to calm his hammering heart.  He really had been bad. Immature, thoughtless, utterly ludicrous.

But even so he knew. God how he knew.

Even after everything-

“Ansgar and Eric persuaded the… headhunter, to try his luck up in Berlin.” Moira began, lips pursed in displeasure. “Your house arrest remains nevertheless. Don’t give me that look. You’ve been irresponsible and ill-mannered, young man. No matter how good a reason you may think you had, you have to control yourself.”

A protest burned on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the sizzle of anger down, buried it deep inside himself where all his other unsafe emotions were banished.

“I know. I I- I’m sorry.”

Moira shook her head with a sigh, grey curls swishing softly from side to side. “Just be better from now on and stay put for the next few days.  No strolling through the farm woods either.”

His fingers began to tap an anxious rhythm onto Asmodea’s shell, while her body pulsed in soothing waves over his thighs. One of her eyes gently nudged his forearm.

“What, uhm what, but if if if one of the snails, if one  gets lost and-“

Moira’s strict tone nipped his tender try at backtalk at the bud, rendering him silent for good.

“Ansgar and I will take care of that then. I have to go now. The others already left to check the InD-Unit’s for a possible breakthrough. I don’t trust one word out of this guy’s mouth, and I expect you to stay close to the house. Did I make myself clear?”

The scar on his arm stretched uncomfortably as he curled tighter around Asmodea, desperate for his friend’s silent support. Their soft body wiggled gently in response.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

“We gonna go pick glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms!”

Mara shrieked, running in circles around Charlotte, a woven basket clutched tightly in her small brown hands. Her yellow hairband fluttered and the ‘thud thud thud’ of her prosthetic leg got drowned out by the other children’s laughter, hot on her heels in a tumultuous chase for the basket.

A small pale boy broke out into a bright grin as he caught himself from stumbling over the hem of his pants, way too long for his small, stubby legs.

“Did Julian steal Hanne’s clothes again?” Kaja emerged from one of the orphanage’s many crooked entrances with a box of flashlights under one arm. A bag full of pocket knives dangled from the other as she dodged a low hanging wooden beam with practiced ease.

Charlotte took the box from her with an irritated sigh. “I’m glad he’s wearing clothes at all, this time.”

“Are you sure you can handle them on your own?”

Kajas cocky grin vanished under Charlotte icy glare. Blue eyes frosted over as she yanked the bag from Kajas hands and shouted: “Everyone who does not want to stay home lines up here now! You don’t lose your flashlight and when I see one pocket knife flicked open for anything other than picking mushrooms you celebrate the festival in your room. Am I clear?”

The children’s excited shrieks died in an instant as they hurried to get in line, waiting obediently for Charlotte to hand every one of them their items and making a show off storing them dutifully away in their pants pockets and backpacks.

The perfect picture of orderly compliance.

Everyone knew it would last for as long as it would take them to leave the orphanages grounds.

___

 The academy yard’s gravel crunched under Gideon’s boots as he snuck away from yet another disciplinary task. He had scrubbed all the bathrooms to shine in the past, had assisted in the kitchen more than once, and had sorted the trainings gear enough times to know it by heart.

Sometimes he even understood why it always ended up like this.

What he couldn’t understand, however, was having to clean up the entire two story training hall because that stupid farm boy provoked him. For once, he hadn’t even done anything. At least nothing that wouldn’t have been deserved.

Not that the little shit had been helpless.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Gideon nearly choked at his upperclassman’s call. His hands clutched the spear’s strap dangling from his shoulder tighter and  he turned to face the young man who had hurried over from their living quarters. His dark thick brows were harsh, frowning lines in a permanently stern face.

“Berkan.” The corners of Gideon’s mouth twitched. He was really in no mood to deal with this stuck-up right now. “Just out for some late night practice.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He did want to get some extra training in, only someplace where he had some damn peace for once. Who could have thought the countryside would be even more suffocating than a life under his father’s roof.

Turning around before Berkan opened his mouth in protest Gideon hurriedly added,“Just finished the cleaning ‘n shit. Go look for yourself if you want.” before he skidded down the large staircase leading down from the academy campus.

Even if Berkan decided to check up on his task Gideon would be already gone by the time the other boy realized he hadn’t done shit.

 ____

 Sahar rubbed slow circles over Asmodea’s head, right between her antennas. It was one of her favorite spots, right after the underside of her foot, when Sahar would gently wipe it clean with a fluffy towel whenever she’d managed to get something unpleasantly stuck to her body. Like the godforsaken acidic tree sap she had blindly glid through on their first forest excursion.

Asmodea carefully extended one eye, gently poking Sahar’s other hand while she began to softly nibble his leg. The raspy sandpaper-like sensation made him chuckle and his fingers began to tap over the warm earth. 

“Hey, hey hey. I’m fine. Don’t, don’t worry.”

Another enthusiastic nibble made him smile, bright and toothy for the first time on a day unpredictable like a summer monsoon.

Sahar was just about to coax Asmodea from his lap and get some strawberry, when a gut wrenching shriek pierced the evening air. 

Something rustled through the bushes.

He shouldered Asmodea and sprung to his feet in one fluid motion, eyes fixed on the timberline and heart stuck in his throat.

Don’t tell me?! Did something break through the border after all?

His pulse hammered in his ears as Sahar listened to the sound of snapping twigs, to the rapid ‘thud thud thud’  coming closer with every second ticking by. His thoughts raced. Would he be fast enough to hurl Asmodea over the root? To jump after? His eyes snapped to the axe. Could he run at all?

The bushes parted.

Sahar was about to throw his friend over the root, risking an injury to her precious shell, when he saw who had screamed. His body froze dead in its tracks and Asmodea fummed in paniked protest. 

Mara had burst out of the thick bushes, covered in scratches, her little face blotchy and tear crusted. The yellow hairband that had been seemingly fused to her head was nowhere to be found and the glittering drawings on her prosthetic leg were smeared over with dirt. Sahar was kneeling by her side in an instant.

“Hey hey hey hey what- what happened? Mara?”

Wiping at tears rolling in endless rivers down flushed chubby cheeks, Sahar scanned her shivering disheveled form for injuries that, to his immense relief, didn’t seem to exist.

“Hey hey hey, It’s fine. It’s fine now. I- I’m here. Every- everything’s fine, fine now.”

“Nonononono.” Her tiny hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her forehead against his collarbone, shaking and rubbing her head into Sahars skin.

Her fluffy curls brushed his chin.

“Monster. A monster. Monster at the glowy clea- clealing!”

“Glowy- what what what do, what do you mean?”

His hands tapped a rapid-fire rhythm over her shaking shoulder blades as Sahar tried to make some sense of her choked-off babbling. 

Sobbing, Mara dug the remnants of a squashed luminescent mushroom out of her pocket. The glowing blue pulp dripped down her fingers and painted sparkling droplets of night sky onto the muddy earth.

“Oh. Oh! The the The clearing! I know, I know, know now. That that that’s close. Were, were were you, were you- were- fuck.” Balling his hands into fist tight enough to leave crescent indentations in the soft flesh of his palm, Sahar forced a long breath in through his nose and out of his uncooperative mouth.

Slow now, sweetheart. Don’t get too worked up again.

“Were you and the others pick- pick picking- for the fest?”

Burying herself back against Sahar’s chest with a frantic nod Mara howled: “The others- the monster, the monster trapped them!”

A breakthrough. Fuck, fuck. Fuck! There must have been one.

She trembled as he held her at arm’s length, meeting dark panic hazy eyes with a determination he thought had died that fateful autumn night eight years ago.

“Listen Mara. I, I I go to the clearing and and and you run to to to the, run to the tea house. Every- everyone’s gonna be, be there warming up for for for for tomorrow.”

He hastily wiped her cheeks before hoisting her over the root. Sahar flashed her a wry smile, trying to look braver than he felt.

“Everything’s gon- gon- gonna be fine.”

Sahar willed his hands not to shake as he tore the Axe from the cutting stump and vanished into the woods.

[dyke-remy]

Live And Let Die, part 4

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3   Part 5   Part 6

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Note: If anyone tags this as r/mr/m I will hunt them for sport

Words: 4853

6 years ago

Remus looked out of the car window. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be here. This was the wrong place. The wrong time. Maybe he should make the car turn around.

"You still here bro?"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder making him jump in his seat. He looked over to the driver. To Roman.

His brother sent him a smile before looking back at the road "Seriously you good? You looked like you were going to mars"

"Just kinda zoning out" Remus replied.

"You took your meds right? I don't want you nearly getting us killed because you were too busy daydreaming about Beetlejuice again"

"He's the man of my dreams Ro-bro!!!.....and yes I have taken them"

"Re-Re I gotta get you a date once we get back. I can Not let Beetlejuice be your standard of men!"  Roman playfully poked his elbow into his ribs "Hey that new Q assistant has been staring at us even since they read our files. I'm sure all it'll take is asking them out and they'll fall head over heels for you"

"They would probably only be interested 'cause of dad" Remus muttered out while crossing his arms "It's always like that. Either that or 'cause of mom"

"At least It's definitely not because of your horribly ugly monster you call a mustache" Roman got a bonk on the head for that.

"Whatever. You go and get yet anotha fling once we get home why dont you. One day you're either gonna get cannibalised or get syphilis. Or both!!!"

Roman let out a gasp "I am far too clean and princely to get syphilis you dirty heathen!!!" He smacked his brother with one arm while driving with the other.

Remus smacked him back "No-oh. Syphilis and gonorre and some weird blue stuff!!"

The smacking got more intense and the prince's gasps and shrieks of defence even louder and nasalier with every sex joke. Until he finally stood on the brakes. The car stopped so suddenly Remus had to hold himself back from flying out the windshield.

"We're here" He simply stated.

Remus let out an overly extra breathe of relief "Finally! Thought my skin was gonna rot off my bones before we got here!"

Roman leaned back and took out his usual weapons from the box sitting in the backseat while continuing to talk.

"Remember: this is a serious mission! Not just some ol' dragon we gotta arrest. Army of fire breathing dragon witches levels of serious. No unnecessary fighting and absolutely no inspecting dead bodies!!"

"You know I can't promise that" Remus replied while stuffing the biggest handgun he'd been able to get his hands (heh) on into the holster stuck onto the side of his waist.

"I know far too frick fracking well"

"PLEase just say fuck!"

"No. Fuck you!!"

They got out of the car. Their feet sank down into the sand the moment they stepped off the gravel road. For dozens of miles around them there was nothing but them, sand and a few even sandier hills.

And of course the statue. That goshdarn statue.

Enfuel, a company with ties to both energy and oil distrubution, had recently bought this random piece of land in the middle of the desert. A statue was placed in the middle of it a year or so later. It looked similar to one of the old egyptic statues and when they looked up information about it all sites said it had been around for hundreds of years. Of course MI6 had satellite pictures to show otherwise.

MI6 had been keeping check on Enfuel for a while. An anonymous worker had been selling them information for months. Even without the leaked information the vast buying of land and spikes of Enfuel employees dying in 'accidents' was enough to rise suspicion.

The agents made their way towards the statue. Guns ready in their hands. No one was around. It was a large one. Over 20 feet wide and at least 15 feet high.

Roman hunched down in the shade from the statue and took out a mechanical gadget he'd gotten from Q. It was a scanner. He placed it on the ground and activated it.

"And now we wait"

"Time to rant and or infodump?" Remus asked.

"Yes but not from you. You got to infodump the last time. It is my time to rant to kill time on a mission!"

He rolled his eyes "Yeah sure go ahead"

His brother instantly went on a long rant about the local theater production he'd landed a role in. It was the first time he'd ever acted. Aside from exercising and his special interest (disney) the theater was the first time he'd ever had a real hobby. His (now ex) boyfriend had been the one to take him to audition after introducing him to (and accidentally making him instantly hyperfixate on) musicals.

"And I just can't wait to-"

He stopped midsentence when the machine made a sound. He was still happy stimming as he checked it.

"Holy zeus" He gasped out.

He showed it to Remus. The scanner had created a blueprint of everything within a 10 feet radius. It clearly showed that there was something built under the ground. There was also an entrance built into the statue.

Remus went over and clicked on a specific point on the statue like the blueprint showed. A keypad appeared. They sent a photo of it to Q. Within minutes he'd somehow been able to come up with the correct code.

He put in the code and a hidden door nearly obscured between two pillars opened up. The brother sent each other excited smiles before entering.

There was a short staircase that led down into a corridor. The walls looked like something they'd find in a mourge and the dim lights shone a cold blue. Roman buttoned up the shirt he had on that was supposed to look like the uniform many Enfuel employees wore.

"Sure doesn't look ancient" Remus muttered.

It was practically a maze of corridors and rooms. Everywhere that cold blue light was the same. None of the rooms they passed seemed to have any important information in them. Having a secret facility wasn't enough for an investigation! It was just aesthetic as fuck!

They aimleesly stumbled around for at least half an hour as they got to the parts the blueprints hadn't showed. They probably walked in circles a few times too. Roman was about to suggest they call up Q when he saw guards, armed guards, out of the corner of his eyes.

He threw out his arm to stop Remus and dragged him back to hide behind a wall. He peeked out and saw how the 2 guards were staying outside a door.

"Bingo" He whispered. He turned to his twin "Wherever there are guards are the important things"

"The juicy secrets!" Remus agreed.

The brothers got out from their hidingspot at the same time. They tried to look casual while walking up to the guards. Right when one of the guards moved to stop them, to ask who they were, Roman took out his gun and shot them in the knee.

Remus elbowed the other guard right between his ribs before pulling his arm around the guard's neck. It didn't take long before he let the guard collapse onto the ground after choking him to unconsciousness.

The other guard feeble sat on the ground with their hands pressed to the wound on their knee. Roman held his gun to their head "Give us the key to the room"

They didn't even hesitate to throw the key over to Remus. They looked up at Roman with pleading eyes. With one swift kick they too laid on the ground knocked out.

The brothers pushed the guards to a good hiding spot in silence. The door opened reveleaing a quite small room but it was filled with computers, databases and of course at least 10 people working on those computers.

All it took was Roman holding up his gun to one of them to make the others freeze in fear. It was very clear that they were just doing their job so Remus tried to go as nice on them as possible when he knocked them out.

"Remind me to request instant sleeping pills from Q" He said after the last one laid still on the ground.

"Noted" Roman replied while barricading the door so no one could get in.

Remus glared at the computer with the biggest screen. He tried to read what was on it but only got a headache and some scattered words. Roman gently pushed him aside.

"It's probably better if I try to find what these guys are up to and you stand guard. Please try to not let me get shot"

"I'll do my worst! Maybe I'll even shoot you myself!" Remus joked.

He looked through the room while hearing Roman mumbling to Q about decoding and taking down firewalls. It didn't take long to realize there was actually a second door in the room. He wasn't sure where it lead but decided to barricade it as well.

"You're still free on Saturday right?" Roman suddenly asked while waiting for Q to hack into the database for him.

Remus rolled his eyes "Nah dude I suddenly got loads of friends and we're all gonna go raid a cemetery and create a zombie army. Supa busy that day sorry"

"Ha Ha" He let out druly "Well the new mission impossible movie is coming out so I kinda thought we could go see it. Y'know cinema caturday like we used to do"

"Oh yeah using our free time away from our spy work to watch a spy movie. Real smart decision Ro-bro"

"It can some other movie! I just wanted to do something" Roman slumped back against the desk so he was leaning on it "I know I've been kinda busy like whenever we're not on missions with the whole theater work-"

"Kinda?!" Remus let out a scratchy laugh "Bro you've been going to that theater like you'll turn to dust if you're not there all the time"

Roman plucked at the green bead bracelet on his wrist "Well it's exciting! I never really thought I could wokr with anything that didn't involve fighting or smugling. It's...nice..getting to do something else. I can't wait until it's time for the premiere and I'll actually get to hear the audience"

"Let's just hope no villain decides to try and take over the world during your perfomance nights" Remus joked. Roman's expression went from excitement to worry "Ro-bro I was kidding. I'm sure if anything happens I can just go with 0012 or something- or I mean like I'll come see you of course I just- It'll be chill!"

There came a silence. There always came a silence after talking about the theater thing. Spending an entire childhood learning about jewel smuggling, self defense and the innerworks of crime made any kind of work that didn't involve any of those shocking enough to warrant silence. Especially after it was Roman's idea to start working at the MI6 as soon as they moved away from their mom and the floating palace at 18.

He'd wanted to be a hero. Remus had just wanted to stay close with his brother.

"But yeah I guess I'm free on Saturday if you wanna go see that movie or whatever" Remus muttered while glancing over to his brother "More surprised that you're not busy honestly"

"Oh I was! Some friends from the theater heard I would get back from 'work' soon and wanted to hang out and I still got that guy who wants to go on a date with me as soon as possible and some guys from the Q branch asked me to test some gadgets for them. But I made sure to clear time in case you said yes" Roman replied with a smile.

"That's....That's....Ro-bro you're a sappy dork you know that right?"

"Of course! That's part of my everlasting and undying charm!"

The conversation was forcibly stopped as Q announced that the code was cracked. Roman flapped his hands in excitement to see the movie, Remus flapped back. They both turned back to what they were doing.

The duke to his surprise noticed a small crack in the wall right next to the door. He couldn't stop his curiosity from taking the better of him and looking through.

On the other side was a big room. There was a long dinner table in the middle with excessive amounts of expensive food on it. There were crystal candelabras hanging from the ceiling. The walls were white just like the floor but there were old paintings decorating the walls.

Most importantly there were 4 people in it. 3 men who looked to be at least 40. All of them were wearing suits but one of them was sitting in a chair by the luxurious table in a glistening dark purple suit. The other two were standing by the table with briefcases gripped in their shaking hands. Remus could see the sweat from nervousness dripping down their neck all the way from where he stood.

Last and least was the fourth person. A young boy, he was at the most 9 years old, sat on another chair by the table. He was holding the hand of the older man. His eyes were hidden by his hair and he had a large hoodie on.

"-So even though there has been someone selling important information about my company you two are 100% certaint that neither of you have destroyed my trust?" The man clad in purple asked.

The two men quickly shook their head. The purple clad man, who happened to be the leader of the Enfuel company, shone up into a wide grin. It was too wide. Too eerie. Not happy. Just sinister.

"How wonderful! I knew I could trust you both!" The leader took out a gun and shot one of the men in the leg.

He fell down on the ground and writhed in pain. The young boy let out a scream and flinched away. The other man bolted for the closest door which instantly made Remus take out a knife and get ready to defend Roman. But before he could get anywhere the leader had pressed a button on his chair which made all doors lock.

"I heard that the MI6 were on to us because of you fools running your mouths" The leader said while standing up. Remus nearly chuckled at how right he was.

The shot man simply cried while the other got down on his knees and begged "Please please I'll do anything. I have a family. I have 2 kids. I can- please don't kill me"

"How funny, I have a kid too" The leader held out his hand "Son come here"

The young boy quickly ran over and took his dad's hand. He was already crying. When the gun was reloaded he turned his head to look away. It resulted in the leader grabbing onto his son's head and dragging in it so he was forced to look at the helpless men, soon to be corpses. Remus could hear the boy whimper from pain.

"Do I-I h-have to see ev-every time?" He cried out.

"Until you learn to stop crying over some insect's death, Yes. These people are traitors. They're beneath us because they have hurt us. You have to see what we do to people who hurt us"

A bullet went off. One of the men collapsed dead on the floor. The other desperately crawled away until he hit the wall. The young boy's crying turned into sobs.

"You should be used to it by now" His dad said in a calm tone.

The leader forced the gun into his son's shaking hands. He held onto his hands so he couldn't let go. He moved his hands for him, reloaded the gun for him, held the gun to the living man's forehead for him. The young boy's entire body was shaking from fear. He closed his eyes. Pretended like the cold metal wasn't in his hands. Pretended like he wasn't one move of his finger away from taking a life.

"Open your eyes son" The leader commanded "You have to see. See the fear in his eyes. That is the look of a dead man. We could ask anything of him"

"I-I want him t-to live. P-Please dad w-we can send-d him to the b-bad room instead"

"The bad rooms are for those who are of use to us. This man has nothing for us"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder. He turned around and pointed the knife at the person's neck. Thankfully it was just Roman.

"The files are all here" Ro informed while holding up an USB drive. He had on a strained expression "It's sick. Q told you they made it so Enfuel was the only company avaible for like an entire part of Latvia right?"

"I wasn't listening but probably yeah"

"They're planning to make all electricy and fuel unaviable for those cities for months. And they're going to make it look like an accident so they won't even have to take accountability. They're planning to try and completely cut them off from the rest of the world"

"People are gonna die" Remus concluded.

"Bet"

"Why the fuck would someone even do that?"

Roman shrugged "Said nothing about that. At least we can stop it if we know it will happen. All we have to do is get out of here and get it to M"

Remus was about to nod but then he heard muffled sounds from the other room. He closed his hands into fists. There was a cold lump stuck in his throat.

"There's a kid here. Like 8? 9 maybe? Being made to hold a gun" He whispered.

"Mom teached us how to use pistols at 12" Roman replied with a shrug.

"She made us shoot at targets" Their mom is a very powerful lady so they had to know how to defend themself since so many people wanted to hurt them to get to their mom "This is-"

A gunshot went off. Gutwrenching screaming followed. It sounded like it came from the boy. Soon sobbing took over.

"Don't cry like that. You weren't even the one pulling the trigger" His dad snarled out.

The brothers at looked each other. They both knew that the mission was hundreds of times more important than one kid but....with that one look they both knew they had to do something.

"Okay new mission" Remus said "Protect the kid"

They searched the room and found an entrance to the vents in the roof. They climbed in and crawled as quietly as possible until they could see down into the other room. The leader had gone back to sitting by the table, he was drinking some wine. The son was still sitting by one of the corpses. His sobs was racking his whole body as he held onto the dead body. Quiet beggings to wake up could be heard.

The brothers took out their guns in anticipation. Remus slammed his foot down into the vent panel and jumped down onto the ground. He jumped back up on his feet and held the gun to the leader's head.

Roman was just as quick with getting down. He went over to the kid and hunched down in front of him, half to comfort him and half to be a human shield.

"It's okay now kid. We won't hurt you. We'll get you out of here. I promise" He whispered to him while sending him a warm smile.

He was full on hyperventilating "No. No. Please. Get out. I don't- dad will- I don't want to have to see anyone else die- I don't want to hurt anyone- please- NoNoNoNo"

"Shhh. No one will be hurt. Just focus on my breathing okay. In and out. Deep breathes. You'll be safe soon" Roman assured. He kept one hand on the young boy's shoulder and the other hand on his gun.

Remus held the gun as still as possible against the leader's forehead. The older man didn't look away even for a second. His cold blue eyes stared at him until it felt like he was digging into him. The agent tried to glance around for a clear exit. At best he saw another entrance to the vents close to the wall on the side of the room.

"I've buried people like you before" The leader let out in a dry emotionless tone. "Even if you do get anyway it won't do much. All of the evidence will be gone except for a meek little plan I can easily manipulate away in court. You're really just delaying the inevitable"

"Not letting people die isn't doing nothing" Remus snarled back.

A smile crept up on his face "Letting people die does just a little"

He pressed down on a hidden panel on his chair. All Remus could see was that it was some sort of controller before hearing a muffled shout. He spun around in time to see Roman sitting with his arms around the kid. Blood was seeping out of his shoulder.

By the press of a button a panel on the wall had turned around and a mechanic gun had become visible, useable too via the panel. The gun head moved again, readjusting it's line of sight.

Logically Remus should have moved his gun back towards the leader's head. Logically he should have shot his brains out. Logically he shouldn't have made a single sound. Logically he shouldn't have shown any ounce of care or emotion (weakness), it'd been drilled into them during training after all.

But Remus wasn't thinking logically. His brother was hurt. His brother was in danger. He had to protect him.

A guttural sound of terror left his throat. It sounded like something close to his brother's name. He wasn't fast enough. There was nothing he could. He watched as the bullet went into Roman's chest.

Remus didn't reach him. There was a hit to the back of his head. The hit was hard enough to make it feel like his brain split apart. He was already unconscious as he fell down on the ground. He was just close enough so the blood from his brother reached him.

--

The moment Remus awakened again his heart immediately began to beat fast enough so he could hear it. He wanted to yell out for his brother before he'd even had time to open his eyes.

The fear calmed won just a bit when he did look up and saw Roman, thank god he saw Roman, laying next to him. He didn't calm down completely because his brother was visibly hurt. Hurt badly.

There were swelling on his cheeks from soon to be bruises and his right eye had closed completely from a black eye. Blood had dried around the wound on his shoulder and the one on his chest was still bleeding. Thankfully it hadn't hit his heart but it was still heavily bleeding. The kid's hoodie had been pressed against the wound. His left leg from the knee down had been mangled and turned the wrong way.

Remus had rope tied around his wrists and ankles. They hadn't even bothered to tie Roman's ankles. Even with all the injuries his twin tried to send him a weak smile.

"don't speak too loudly" He whispered out. His breathing was uneven and raspy.

Normally Remus would have screeched in defiance. Now he glanced around the room while making his every move as quiet as possible.

The leader and his son were still in the room. The leader was polishing a knife. There were multiple knives and other gratuitous tools laid out across the table. Oh god he'd only kept them alive to make them suffer until death as much as possible.

When he turned back to Roman there were tears in his brother's eyes. His smile was strained.

"I was going to resign"

Roman let out a sob as his smile disappeared. It only left an expression filled with pain.

"I-I never really wanted t-this! I just- I didn't know what else I would be. Re I was planning to make this my last mission. I don't know if I want to be an actor. But fuck at least I-I want to be an actor ten times more than I want to be an agent"

Remus tried to move closer. He wanted to reach out and hold his brother. Comfort him. Tell him half the things he said didn't make sense.

"You- What-" He let out a nervous chuckle "Ro-bro what are you talking about?"

At first there was no reply. Just a choked back sob. Roman moved closer and stared at the ropes around Remus' wrists. Anything was better than looking at his face. He moved his hands to try and untangle the ropes.

"You have to hug mom for me. And tell her I love her. And hug Lucy a-and Macey and Amita-" Roman closed his eyes, tried to force back another wave of tears "-And Everyone on the island. All of them. And the people at the theater. A-And everyone in Q branch a-and Oh god Q. Please hug Q- Logan. Hug Logan for me. Please. And Patton and M even though he will hate it. Please. I wish I'd known. I just want to be able to say goodbye at least. I just-"

"Shut up you dork. We're getting out of here. I'll just carry you. What's some old weak boned guy and some kid gonna do against us"

Roman glanced up at him, just for a moment, before going back to the ropes.

"Remus I-"

He coughed. His entire body shook and writhed in pain. He ignored it and continued with the ropes. Blood was coming down his lips. He was coughing up blood.

"Remus-"

Roman met his eyes this time. He didn't have to say anything more. They both knew it. Even if one of them didn't want to accept it. It'd taken at least an hour to drive here. He wasn't going to make it unless he got medical help within the next minutes. He wasn't going to- He wasn't-

Roman wasn't going to make it.

"You can't- I- I'm sure- I can-" Remus stuttered out.

"You need to take the information and get back to M alive" He pulled the ropes away from Remus' wrists "There's a vent right above us. The bitchass dragon witch is too busy with torture devices to look at us. If you go now you can-"

"You will-"

"Remus I'm already dead! The kid isn't being saved either! He's stuck here! We failed! The least you can do is try to stop more death!"

"But you will-"

"Please I need you to survive" Roman pressed the USB drive into his hands. His hands were shaking "I-I'm trying to stay strong to make this easier for you b-but-" He let out a shakey sob "I just want to hug mom again. I want us to-to- I- I need you to survive. I need you to stay alive. Please. If I know you survive I can attempt to die in peace. I can't- I can't-" It continued into incoherent sobbing.

They couldn't hug each other, the leader would realize they were awake if they did. All they could do was press their hands together. They held onto each other's hands so tightly it hurt. Neither wanted to let go.

"....I love you...I wish- I don't- I just want you to- I love you" Remus choked out through tears.

Somehow Roman mustered a smile "I love you too" He wiped a tear away from his twin's cheek "I'm sorry. I wish I could stay with you. Please go. Please survive"

Remus tightened his grip on his hand for one last second. He wished he could drag it out. Even Continuing to exists in this moment of misery sounded better than spending the rest of his life without him.

He forced his hands away and sat up. Heuntied the ropes around his ancles in one rushed pull. He heard a yell from behind him. He jumped up and grabbed onto the vent. A bullet went past him as he climbed in.

He continued to cry as he hurried away. He kept the USB drive in his mouth. It felt like a part of him had been ripped out. A big part. A part he needed to live.

(He wished he'd never noticed the crack in the wall. He wished he'd just left the kid to be abused. He was horrible. He just wanted his brother to be okay)

It should have been him who was left for dead. Roman had so many more people who would mourn him. He had had a future. Goals. Dreams. Relationships. Remus was replacable.

Remus pushed himself out of the vent. His lungs were burning. He was numb. There were so many emotions he'd overloaded. He couldn't even feel the cold against his skin. Only the tears against his cheeks.

He escaped the facility and ran. In the distance he could see the car. He wanted to die. He couldn't imagine a life without his brother. Roman was the one who was supposed to come back with the information to save people. Roman was the hero! It wasn't fair!

Remus wanted to stop and let the guards catch up to him. Wanted to let himself scream and sob and be killed. Wanted to hug his brother again even if the only way to hug him was if they were both dead.

Instead he forced himself survive but only because it'd been Roman's wish.

[angelatmidnight1]

Never Rouse The Beast

This is part two to my first Bloodhound and Octane fic. I had fun writing this one and hope you guys like it. It’s 11:42pm here and I hope there are no typos lol. xD

Summary:  After finding out how ticklish Bloodhound is, Octane finds an opportunity to remind them at every chance he gets. Little does Octane know, however, is that there’s a reason you never poke the beast and expect it to lie still…

“What’cha lookin’ at, amigo?” Octane smirked at his teammate from across the dropship and chuckled. Bloodhound turned their head away from the daredevil and cleared their throat, pinging the Sorting Factory below.

“...I think we should land here.” They murmured as they nodded towards the furthest L-shaped building towards the back of the area. Since the pair was among the last few squads in the ship, Octane moseyed on over to the hunter’s side and peered down where they pinged. He brought one of his hands up to his forehead as if he needed to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, his other hand finding their side and giving it a squeeze. Octane pretended as if he needed to balance himself but they both knew better. 

“Over there?” He asked innocently while kneading their side between his fingers. Bloodhound squirmed out of the daredevil’s touch and nearly fell out of the ship themselves, earning them strange looks from the few remaining squads and a giggle from their teammate.

“Yeh-hes..” Bloodhound stammered, bringing their arm down against their side protectively. Although they were the Jump Master, Octane could have easily decided to break off and jump before them and go wherever he wanted. In fact, that’s what he usually did, claiming that it took foooreeeever to land. But ever since their recent “training session”, Bloodhound was finding it difficult to put some space between themselves and the daredevil. And it was their luck that out of all the Legends that they could have gotten as a teammate, they were stuck with him. 

“Alright, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Octane cheered before the pair finally jumped from the ship and descended at a rapid pace. As they were landing, Octane whipped out his selfie stick and held it above himself and Bloodhound, elbowing their ribs to get their attention. 

“Say cheese for all my followers~!” Octane yelled against the roaring wind, Bloodhound audibly gasping and recoiling out of his reach. Octane finally broke off and laughed all the way down, stashing his selfie stick and immediately stabbing himself with a stim to dash around for weapons. 

    The rest of the match followed a similar pattern: As the pair scrounged around for loot, Octane’s hand would “accidentally” brush against the hunter’s side as they’re picking up ammo, would tweak their ribs as they both launched themselves across the map with his jump pad. But then, after Bloodhound got their 7th kill, most likely fueled by Octavio’s mischief, the largest banner in the arena flashed to the hunter’s picture, much to Octane’s excitement. 

“Mira, check out mi amigo, the new Kill Leader!” Octane announced to any team within earshot of the two. He snaked his arm around Bloodhound’s shoulders and spun them around so that they could both face the camera, the daredevil wasting no time to strike a pose for his adoring fans. Bloodhound offered a polite nod towards the camera but, in one swift motion Octane snuck his hand down to the hunter’s hip and squeezed it hard enough through their armor to make them sink down laughing. 

    That was the last straw for Bloodhound. When Octane attacked them before in the firing range, they were the only two in the area. But in the arena, all eyes were on them, and if an enemy didn’t hear them, spectators definitely saw them. The last thing the hunter wanted was for their sensitivity to become public knowledge. So, after securing a win through Bloodhound’s accurate sniper shot and Octane being...well, a guns blazing lunatic, the pair went to the medical ward to be checked out for injuries. Bloodhound was cleared rather quickly but Octane, having a very mild cut on his right side, stayed behind to be patched up by Ajay Che. As she approached the two, she smiled and waved to the hunter before strolling up to Octane with a smirk.

“So how much trouble did ya put Bloodhound through, Silva?” Lifeline chuckled, leaning down to examine the injury. Octane scoffed and laid back on the table so that it was easier for her to patch him up.

“Pfft, me? Trouble? Never, hermana.” Octane smirked, lifting up his mask so that he could wink at her. Bloodhound turned to leave the medical ward but paused at the door upon hearing a sudden bout of snickering. They looked over their shoulder to see Octane fidgeting on the table with Lifeline’s hand still on his side, his laughter picking up as she lightly squeezed his side to get a better grip.

“Wahahtch it, Ajay!” Octane squeaked only to have Lifeline roll her eyes and playfully push his arm, standing back up.

“I woulda been done already had ya not moved! Ya just have a small abrasion, doesn’t really need a bandaid. I only need ya to hold still so I can clean it.” Lifeline answered before turning on her heel to retrieve the medical cleaning wipes. By that time, Bloodhound had left the room, but they had seen all they needed to get the vengeance they sought.

    The hunter found the daredevil out by the Gauntlet later that day and watched as he tinkered with one of his many jump pads. There was a large tool box with tools scattered all over the platform and Bloodhound, seeing their prey thoroughly engrossed in what he was doing, slowly approached the platform. Octane mumbled excitedly to himself as he carelessly tossed bolts he didn’t need anymore over the platform and, when he suddenly felt a hand on each of his shoulders, he screamed in surprise as he was pulled backwards and sat on. Bloodhound held both of the daredevil’s wrists in one hand and used their legs to keep him pinned at the waist; by the time Octane caught up to what happened, he struggled to pull his wrists free from their iron hold. 

“Bloodhound?! What are you doing, get off of me!” He yelled, cringing as his struggling only made the hunter hold on tighter. 

“I will not. You disgraced me on the battlefield today, and you are going to atone for your actions.” They growled, bringing their hand up to Octane’s neck and dragging one finger along the side. Octane flinched, expecting pain, but his eyes widened once the realization hit and he struggled more frantically under Bloodhound’s weight. Octane must have caught them on an off day before, because the hunter was strong and easily kept him in place. 

“W-Waahait amigo, wait, listen. We can talk about thihis! Y-Yohohu’re aahahlways s-so sehehrious anhnd I’m not even--pfft, Blohohoodhohohund wahahahit!” Octane sputtered and snickered, his shoulder shaking as he tried to lift it and block out their hand. However, when Octane rolled his head to one side and blocked one side of his neck, Bloodhound simply switched sides and wiggled their finger against the skin ever so slowly. 

“You may speak, Octavio. I will listen to anything you wish to say while I satiate my vengeance.” Bloodhound answered quietly before they moved their hand to Octane’s exposed sides and dragged their fingers at a slow, tortuous pace.

Octane yelled again before falling into a heavy giggling fit, already on the verge of laughter as the hunter carefully moved their fingers against his skin. If the slow pace wasn’t enough to drive him crazy, it was the deliberate, frightening accuracy that the hunter sought out and scraped at the most sensitive spots on his sides. Octane yelped and giggled harder the further up Bloodhound’s hands went and they settled their hands on the uppermost area of their sides, walking their fingers up and down more briskly.

“BLOHOHOHOOOHOHdohohohohund hahahahah PLEHEHEHehehehase DOOHOHOHhohohn’t t-tIIHIHIHIHihihihihcklle! POOHOHOHohohor fahahahahvoohohohr!” Octane squeaked and suddenly barked out a laugh when the hunter kneaded their fingers into his stomach. “AAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHAHAHAH!”

“I am not doing anything that was not previously done to me. However, it is unfortunate that your armor does not offer any protection to attacks of this nature.” Bloodhound smirked as they worked their thumb into each side of Octavio’s stomach, drawing out a harder bout of laughter. 

“I’M SOHOHOHOHRRY! IIIHIHIHIHIH WAHAHAS JUHUHST M-MEHEHESSING AHAHAHAROHOHUNDHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHP!” Octane cackled and arched his back, his head rolling side to side as his legs fruitlessly kicked against the ground.

“Suppose I do not stop, Octavio. Suppose I keep you here, at my mercy, and torment you in the same manner you tormented me. The gods granted you unlimited stamina, and it would take a great deal of time before you grow tired..” Bloodhound mused as they took the tip of their finger and drew circles around the daredevil’s navel. Octane screamed and bucked harshly, his laughter taking on a desperate note as he kicked at the ground even more, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“NONONOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHAHAHSE ‘HOHOHUNDHAHAHAH STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”  Octane howled and convulsed beneath them in a wild fit of laughter that only grew higher in pitch the closer they got to his navel. The daredevil shook his head so much that his goggles became crooked on his face and Bloodhound, taking notice, brought the tickles back to that slow, agonizing pace. 

“This appears to be a sensitive area of yours.” Bloodhound noted calmly, poking just under the navel and making Octavio wheeze. Octane remained in stitches until the hunter slowed the tickling down even more though he still shook with laughter.

“SIHIHIHIHI-SIHIHIHI! Ihihihihit ihihihihihihs! I’m behehehehehehegging yohohohu, stahahahahahahp!” Octane pleaded, sucking in his already slim stomach. This did nothing to deter Bloodhound from delivering careful pokes to the daredevil’s abdomen though, all of a sudden, the hunter did stop. Octavio noisily gasped for air and let his head fall back, a thin layer of sweat lining his forehead. “Haha...hah...thahnk yoohou…” 

Bloodhound remained quiet as they brought their hand up to their helmet and ran their fingers along the upper part of the head piece, fishing out a sleek, black raven’s feather and holding it between their index finger and thumb. “I am owed no gratitude,” They started, watching Octane look up with a start and tense up at the sight of the feather. “For I am still not satisfied with your pleas for mercy..”

Octane, not taking too long to recover, began struggling with a renewed vigor as Bloodhound lowered the feather closer and closer to his navel. “WAIT! Bloodhound please! ¡Te lo ruego!¡Te lo ruego! (I’m begging you!) I won’t tickle you again! I wohOHOHOHOHOHOHN’T!” Octane’s pleading was cut off with a sharp scream as the feather stroked the inside of his navel and he started bucking with hysterical laughter. “NOHOHOHOHOHO POHOHOHR LAHAH AHAHAHMOR DE DIHOHOHOHS (For the love of God) NOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Bloodhound grinned slightly beneath their mask as they twisted the feather between their fingers and drew circular patterns against Octavio’s navel. Octane shrieked with laughter and kicked the ground furiously, the cloud of dust he kicked up looking more like a tornado than a cloud. Then, maybe in an attempt to be a little merciful, the hunter swept up his torso and flicked the feather against his armpits, flinching in surprise when Octavio screamed again. The daredevil’s laughter momentarily became silent before it picked up again, though it was riddled with hiccups. 

“Oh? Is there a spot that is more sensitive than your navel?” Bloodhound asked with a tilt of their head as they held the feather at the junction where the armpit and upper arm meet. Octane snorted before falling back into a heavy giggling fit, his answer half in Spanish, half in English, and jumbled together at that. 

“NYAHAHAHAHNOAHAPLAHAHAHDIHAHA!”

Bloodhound tutted softly and lifted the feather, dusting it against his ribs during his trip back down to Octavio’s abdomen. “An unintelligible answer I’m afraid. Fret not, I will discern for myself.”

By the time Bloodhound finished tickling Octavio, where they promptly let his arms go and climbed off his waist, the daredevil was drenched with sweat and laying with his arms and legs splayed in random directions. He didn’t bother to fix his goggles, which were barely hanging on to the side of his face, and he was still grinning as the ticklish sensations racked his core. Bloodhound patiently waited for Octane to recuperate and eventually, the daredevil brought himself up to lay on his side and finally readjusted his goggles. “You...are evil…” He breathed out tiredly, groaning as the hunter carefully reached over and helped him lean against a wall within the Gauntlet. Bloodhound shrugged their shoulders and moved the miscellaneous bolts and other stray tools out of Octavio’s way to give him enough room to rest, propping themselves against a wall opposite the daredevil.

“I am only what the gods will me to be. However, should you choose to return to your previous actions, the only mercy you’ll find shall rest with the gods.”

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Director’s Cut Chapter 6: The Castle

Director’s cut chapter 5

Virgil woke to the sound of knocking on the door. Sitting up, he swept his hair out of his eyes. “Come in.”

Patton’s head peeked in, light from the outside making it seem like he was glowing. “Sorry to wake you, Virgil. I was sent to let you know that it’s half an hour ‘til dinner.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll be out as soon as I’ve changed.” Patton smiled and shut the door.

He stood from the too different bed, head pounding from the crash of adrenaline as well as the lack of proper sleep from the last few weeks. His eyes were already adjusted to the dark so he had no trouble finding the dresser and the clothes that lay atop it.

He picked up the pile, the fabric different from what he was used to. He dressed quickly, almost falling over as he tried to put the leg coverings on but he managed to do it. The shirt was a soft plaid the color of a purple sunset over the ocean. The pants were a deep blue that made Virgil think of the ocean floor.

A knock sounded at the door again and Patton’s head returned. “Are you ready?”

Virgil nodded, exchanging the dark room for the brightly lit hallway. He turned to Patton, arms out slightly as he spun slowly. “Do I look presentable?”

Patton frowned. “Your hair is a mess.”

Virgil reached up to feel it. “I have no idea what it’s supposed to look like.”

Patton moved back into the room Virgil had vacated and gestured for the mer to follow him. Virgil sat on the side of the bed, curious as to what the manservant was planning. Patton opened the dresser and picked up an object that resembled a sea urchin attached to a stick. He turned around and held it up. “Do you mind if I brush your hair for you?”

Virgil shrugged. “If that is what is presentable.” He has no concept of how social interaction is supposed to be done.

Patton smiled and came to sit behind Virgil. The mer felt fingers tangling with his locks, quickly followed by the urchin like part of the object. It was a strange sensation but not an unpleasant one. Patton was quick and efficient. Soon, his hands stilled and retreated, leaving Virgil’s hair feeling smoother.

Virgil stood, making his way to the looking glass set in the corner of the room. His hair was lying flat against his skin, not wild and flowing like it was in the water. He turned back around to face the manservant, who now stood by the door. “Does it look better?” He had no way of gauging human beauty standards so trusted Patton’s judgement.

Patton smiled. “You look great!” He led the way back down the hallway and to the first floor, moving through other hallways with barely any hesitation, completely at ease in this large building. They quickly made their way to a large dining room that already had the table set.

Patton stepped  off to the side and Virgil noticed that, even though the head of the table remained empty, other seats were filled out with Logan and two other people, a place next to Logan left over for Virgil. He sat, once again curling his legs around a chair leg, not exactly sure what to do with them.

The other adult at the table, who Virgil guessed to be Thomas, caught his eye with a smile. “So, Virgil, was it?”

Virgil nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Logan tells me you were captured by pirates.”

The small child sitting next to him, who could be no older than ten, lit up at the sound of that. “Pirates?! Really?”

Virgil nodded, smiling slightly at the enthusiasm. “Yes, the farthest back my memory currently goes is to waking on the pirate ship and running for my life.”

The child almost stood from his seat but Thomas pushed his shoulder back down gently. “Real pirates? Oh, boy!”

Thomas sighed. “Roman, please just eat your soup.”

Virgil looked down at his place setting to find a round, shallow dish filled with a liquid. To his right was a utensil that seemed to be designed to carry the liquid, the soup. Glancing at the child, he observed how he was scooping the soup into the utensil and bringing it to his mouth, blowing gently on it before eating. Virgil copied him to the best of his ability, having never encountered either soup before.

The table conversation went on, Thomas interrogating Virgil while trying to contain the rambunctious ten year old. Whenever Thomas wasn’t questioning Virgil, Logan was trying to see how bad his amnesia was. That was difficult as Virgil was unsure how similar their societies were or how much Virgil would have to bluff. It seemed that they were similar enough that Virgil was able to at least pass the childhood aspect of the test, failing the rest of the test as he tried to keep up the amnesia façade.

Over the course of the meal, Logan and Virgil’s conversation ventured away from what Virgil remembered and veered toward getting to know each other. Virgil was fascinated by Logan’s enthusiasm for the stars. He spoke of going late at night to gaze at them through his telescope, the tube he only ever used at night.  Logan talked about his ventures into painting, the stand and white rectangle, saying how it helped him calm down after a stressful time.

Virgil really couldn’t talk about his own interests as he wasn’t supposed to remember them. So, he just observed the happy family, the way Logan always spoke nicely to Roman, always on his level of knowledge, not Logan’s. He saw the way Thomas tried to engage Roman in the conversation, even if it meant using smaller words. He smiled, knowing this family was loving and strong. Read: Hyperfixations

Once the meal was over, Roman jumped out of his seat and asked Thomas if he could show Virgil around the castle. Thomas laughed and said it was fine as long as Logan went too, confessing he still had some work to complete or he’d be joining them. Logan agreed and the group was off. Roman tried to narrate what they were seeing and where they were going but quickly got tired. Logan picked him up, settling him on his back, and took up the narration, giving a better explanation of things. Soon, they passed through a hallway that was filled with paintings of people on their way to the library.

“Who are those?” Virgil asked, his eyes lingering on each individual, some looking similar and others completely different. He’d never encountered anything similar but guessed they were like what Logan did with the stand and canvas.

“Ah. Those are the generations of Ackroyd’s that came before us. They are our ancestors and, one day, we will join them.”

Virgil frowned. “Forgive me if I sound stupid, but you surely can’t mean that you actually trap souls in paintings, can you?”

Logan laughed, a melody of sound that traveled the length of the hall. “No, we don’t imprison souls in art. The paintings are simply the likeness of the person. Their painting is done when they come of age but it is not hung until the subject either ascends to the throne or dies.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the explanation.”

“It’s no trouble.” Logan shifted, settling the now sleeping child into a better position. “Although, I do believe that I should get this bug to bed. If you would wait here a moment, I would be glad to show you more of the castle when I get back.”

Virgil smiled and nodded. Logan walked down the hall and Virgil turned to look at the different paintings. He wandered the corridor, eventually coming to stand in front of the last picture on the wall. He was admiring it for a few minutes, picking out the resemblance in features to Logan and Thomas and, to a lesser degree, Roman.

“That’s my father, the current king.” Logan’s voice said behind Virgil, causing the mer to jump. Inattention and a lack of awareness for his surroundings.

“I didn’t hear you return.” he chuckled, turning slightly, allowing Logan to stand beside him. “You mentioned he was away, do you know where?”

“Yes, he and my younger brother, Orville, are away dealing with a business deal that could secure safe trading routes for centuries to come. While he is gone, Thomas and I are splitting the day to day mundane tasks that Father would normally oversee. One of such tasks is to send a battalion after that pirate ship you mentioned. If all goes well, they will no longer be able to cause anyone else harm.”

Logan’s voice had started out as smooth while speaking of his family but changed to a harder, passionate tone when he brought up the pirates. Turning to look into his eyes, Virgil found a similar passion there that caused him to simultaneously want to look deeper and turn away. He chose the second option, heat rising to his cheeks at the thought of the first.  

Virgil cleared his throat. “Should we continue the tour?”

Logan nodded. “If you wish. I’ll take you to the library but I’m not sure how much longer you should be about, you need your rest for your injuries to heal properly.”

Of course. Because that was the main goal right now. Healing the injuries before getting the crystal and getting back to his blessing. That was what mattered right now. Virgil shook his head almost imperceptibly, needing to do the action to clear it. His hand reached to fidget with the other sleeve as they continued their walk, the silence almost deafening now that Logan wasn’t narrating everything in sight. Anxious stimming.

When they entered the library, Virgil’s  jaw was almost on the floor. He spun in a wide circle, trying to understand that so many books could exist in the world, let alone in one room. If he’d been paying attention to Logan, he would have seen the small smile that crossed his face at Virgil’s wonder.

The walls seemed to go up at least three stories, bookshelves lining each of them and filled with enough pieces of literature of varying sizes to keep Virgil entertained his whole life. He almost wasn’t sure if he would ever see this many books again. His eyes trailed up the cases, marveling at the intricate carvings he’d only seen ruins of. When he got to the top of the room, he found windows at the very top that allowed for light to fill the room while still preserving the books.

“Would you like to take one back to your room for some light reading before bed?” Logan’s voice once again startled him back into paying attention to his surroundings rather than his wandering thoughts. He spun back around to face Logan, mind still going a mile a minute but he was now in the eye of the hurricane instead of the brunt of the storm.

“I don’t think I’d know where to start.” He confessed, a blush dusting his cheeks in embarrassment.

Logan just chuckled and took a few steps forward. “What kind of books interest you?”

Virgil shrugged. “All of them. I’d honestly try to read everything I can get my hands on.”

Logan nodded, moving to the nearest bookshelf. “Well, then how about staring you off on the history of the nation. Would that be agreeable?”

Virgil almost jumped for joy but remembered at the last second that he couldn’t do that in human form in a way that would satisfy the movement he wanted to make. Instead, he simply squealed softly and nodded. ”That would be great.” He’s trying to do the same twirling stim from chapter 2 but is unable to as it involves corkscrewing a tail he doesn't currently possess. This leads to the squeal as a different but no less happy stim.

Logan smiled and handed him a large tome. “This should be enough for now. I suggest getting some sleep now as your wounds will benefit from that.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s a good idea. Are you heading to bed as well?” Part of him wanted to spend more time with Logan, even if it were spent in silence walking down a hall.

Logan shook his head, a regretful smile playing on his lips. “Unfortunately, I still have some work to do. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Then I shall bid you a good night.”

“Do you need me to call someone to escort you back to your room or do you remember the way?” Virgil wondered if that was genuine concern or if Logan was trying to figure out what kind of amnesia Virgil had. Either way, it was sweet.

“Just down the hall, up the stairs, and my room should be the third on the left. I think I’ll be fine but I appreciate the offer.”

Logan nodded and started in the opposite direction, heading to his personal study. Virgil went back to his room, changing into the pajamas he found waiting there and crawled into the too different bed. He read for a bit but soon fell asleep again, the run through the woods finally catching up to him.

He woke to the same tingles in his legs and sides as he had the previous few weeks. He didn’t want to shed scales on the bed, nor did he want to spend the whole night trapped in the bed. So, he quickly scrambled out of it and his pants, unsure how the transition would take fabric being between the legs when they fused back into a tail. He found the door to the bathroom, managing to fill the tub and slipping in just as his tail took shape, his fins sprouting from his sides.

He sighed in contentment, finally in sustained contact with fresh water again. It curled around him, thanking him for the simple act of freeing part of the tank water. He smiled, knowing he would be able to cash in a favor but deciding to save it. He sank deeper into the tub, grateful for it being deep enough that he could almost submerge himself in the water. Feeling comfortable in his own scales for the first time in a few weeks and the sound of the water moving acting as a lullaby, he quickly drifted into a deep, healing sleep.

He woke as the sun came through the window and his tail began to tingle once more, signaling the change. He waited until it changed back to legs, mourning the loss of his fins already. He inspected his injuries and found that the bandages that wound around his legs were still intact. He stood from the tub and drained it before making his way back to the bed, slipping under the covers to drift until woken by someone else.

Director’s cut chapter 7

[kcatta-wodahs]

👉👈 if you're,, still doing the matchups,, I'd like one please? 🥺 My name is Kai, he/they (also gay-mammon, heyo 👀) Don't mind what kind of matchup you wanna do, or with any of the boys! I'm an aries, an introvert but I'm also really clingy and touchy djdbdb, usually like slow building romances. I usually draw, play games, or make stuff in my spare time, and meme humor makes me laugh the most. I'm emotional so I cry when I get mad, but I get mad a lot anyway. (1/2)

(2/2) I usually sleep when I'm having a bad day. I'm very passionate about the things I'm interested in, whether it's hobbies, fandoms, or communities. Neurodivergent and stimmy as all hell, and I invest a lot of my time in my special interests. Uhhh I'm not sure what else to put sjdbdn but i hope you're having a good day!!! I tried keeping this in one ask but that failed miserably 😭

A/N: KAIIIIII  hello i love your blog so i hope you love this i want to be friends. Also don't worry about the ask amount I've tried and it's like... impossible to get everything in one. I've sent in like 4 at a time. I have no idea how some people send in the longer ones without breaks? Tumblr mysteries.

I pair you with... Simeon!

Now, we all know he's an angel. Soft and supportive of so much, and you're so passionate that he can't help but be drawn to you. Your joy when surrounded by your interests, and when you delve deep into them warms his heart. He finds himself just watching you in order to calm himself, or when he needs to be cheered up. There is a lot of pressure on him as an angel and friend of Michael -- being with you brings him to his roots: The belief that he carries that angel and demon are no different from each other, or from humans. He finds the way you bring the three worlds together inspiring, and he wants to help you.

More Below the Cut!

Expect his latest writing to draw a lot of inspiration from you. He'll have new characters who stim like you do, or who find similar hobbies. He can't help it - you know so much more than he about how to be genuine. 

He loves to join you in your hobbies and interests, and will listen to you for hours. He gets invested in your special interests with you, and makes an effort to learn at least half of how much you know about them.

He is absolutely adorable about it too. If you're into cosplay? Guess what, he'll do the best cosplay just for you. He always gives you little gifts that are related to your interests, and you have no idea where he gets half of them.

Simeon loves to explore. He is up for anything once. (I mean, did you see how calm he was during that event?) And honestly, there isn't much that he won't enjoy.

👀 take this fact wherever you will 👀

He will go with you for moral support absolutely anywhere.

And if you're caught in a bad situation? If someone's being a dick? He's right beside you to help.

When you end up crying out of anger, he somehow knows how to help you get words past the lump in your throat. He will refuse to let whoever angered you demean you for crying, and will hold them there until they have properly apologized for their transgressions. 

Expect that there will be tons of times where you turn to look at him and find that he's already watching you with the fondest little smile.

Especially when you get excited about something, no matter how you show it. He is once again absolutely smitten every single time and he wants nothing more than to be near you.

He likes to watch you draw, if you're comfortable with it. Same with games -- he sucks at them (like a lot of technology) but since you play them he can easily enjoy them with you!

You like to take pictures of his failed attempts at using technology. 

Also his cluelessness with technology make him the perfect target for grandpa-meme jokes and its honestly so fun.

"OOh man he's a magic man" 

Snippet

The soft sliding of the door against the carpet woke Kai from his fitful sleep. Somehow he felt more tired than when he had collapsed into bed. The memories of the morning he had had still rang in his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to forget them.

However, when he looked up to see what had woken him, he found Simeon standing before him. The angel was holding a tea cup and platter and came to sit on the bed beside Kai's legs. Slowly, Kai sat up.

"Are you feeling any better?" Simeon asked. Kai could only respond with a shrug. Sympathy clearly crossed Simeon's gaze as he laid a hand lightly on Kai's leg and held out the cup to him. "This is for you. Once you finish it, I promise to leave you be."

Kai took the drink and breathed in the soothing steam. Whatever it was, it smelled lovely, but it wasn't what he needed right now. Seeing Simeon had helped him realize what it was he was truly looking for. He set the cup to the side, looking at the angel whose brows had knitted together in worry.

"If I don't finish it, will you stay?" 

Simeon's expression cleared into a small smile. "I might even if you do," he teased. In response, Kai held open his arms, looking for a hug, which Simeon instantly gave. Something in Kai released in that moment, allowing him to sniffle as tears started streaming down his cheeks. 

Simeon hummed softly against him, rubbing his back and brushing his hair with his fingers. He let Kai cry as long as he needed to, even if the tea grew cold in the meantime. When his tears slowed, Kai tried to mumble out an apology, but Simeon was having none of that. He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, wiping away the tears on his cheeks and following his fingers with little kisses. 

Then his breath whispered against Kai's ear, beautiful words that made the human’s breath catch in his throat, even though he couldn't understand them. It was as if Simeon's breath had become its own form of magic, a sigh with the feeling of a whole world in it. The rising of the sun and the beauty of a bird's song; the longing of the moon and its stars reflected in the seas; all hidden within the sentences he spoke.

Though he was reluctant to pull away, Kai did just to try and find some explanation in the angel's expression. Simeon's gaze was endlessly gentle, the closeness between the two only further cutting off Kai's questions. A small chuckle showed that Kai's unspoken confusion was heard.

"It is a poem we have in the Celestial Realm," he murmured, taking Kai's hand to his lips. He laid a small kiss on the first knuckle.

أنا أحبك.

Simeon breathed the beginning of the phrase again, a slight smile curving at his lips as the ancient language made Kai's breath stop once again. But he continued in the human tongue.

"As if all hearts were a mirror of mine,

"As if life were invented for my love,

أنا أحبك.

I love you. 

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (6)

Chapter 6: Occupational Complications | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

Jidné tilted her head back, sighing, she turned around to answer Cal right in the face.

“Yeah,” said Jidné, plainly.

She wrapped her cowl around her shoulders after clearing off the dust and leaves that clumped onto it during their skirmish with the Bashiji cats. They exchanged looks, but she kept her distance from him. Cal’s eyes wandered to the girl’s hilt, the two strands of turquoise beads attached to the ring of the pommel’s base stood out from the black and silver color scheme.

A robotic chittering came within their earshot, ID-3 appeared from the branches where he was hiding the whole time. Alarmed by the sight of a probe droid, Cal reignited his saber and pointed it at the black hovering disc of a droid.

“No, no, no—wait! He’s mine!” Jidné put herself between ID-3 and Cal who had his saber at the ready, who only looked at the Imperial probe droid by face value.

“He’s mine,” she repeated, more calmly this time.

Cal stopped at Jidné’s behest, he looked over her shoulder and saw the droid was hiding behind her back, its single red lens for an eye peeked over her hair.

Confused, Cal pulled his eyebrows together, “That Imperial probe droid is yours?”

“I reprogrammed him, and he’s with me,” she explained. She turned to the shuddering black disc hiding behind her shoulders. “It’s okay, ID-3, they won’t hurt us.”

Now standing much closer, she got a good long look at him. The sunlight that pored through the jungle canopy highlighted of his features for Jidné to see: the freckles that riddled his cheeks like stars to a night sky, the clear emerald shine of his eyes and the soft gaze that he makes with it.

Cal ticked the boxes of the job detail—red hair, a Jedi, and as much as she was too prideful to admit it he is handsome—but there’s no sign of the Holocron on his person. Jidné presumed that he wouldn’t carry it around with him, as people might mistake it for some heftily-priced relic.

He switched his saber off after believing that the probe droid was indeed harmless. ID-3 was still frightened from the sudden stance but quickly warmed up to Cal after spotting little BD-1, to prove that he was good, ID-3 raised one tentacle and waved it as if saying “Hello” both to Cal and BD-1.

“Booo-wooo…” BD-1 cautiously beeped in response. For good measure, he lit up his scanners at ID-3 and his lens panned up and down to get the full picture of the droid. The abrupt change of tone in BD-1 verified that ID-3 wasn’t the Imperial droid he used to be.

“See, he’s harmless!” Jidné insisted.

“Sorry we doubted you, ID,” Cal apologized for both himself and BD-1.

ID-3 accepted the apology, his raspy and monotonous tone somewhat had a cheery chirp in it.

“Oh! You’re hurt,” Cal uttered, spotting blood staining on Jidné’s jacket through the tears of her cowl.

Jidné searched for the injury, the adrenaline practically made her numb from feeling the sting, she only felt it when she slightly flexed her shoulder.

“Oh, crud…” she mumbled.

Cal snapped his fingers and out comes a healing stim from BD-1’s little compartment.

“Here,”

Jidné’s slender fingers picked up the green vial from Cal’s palm. She brought it closer to examine it.

“A healing stim,” she identified. “You have one impressive little droid.”

BD-1 took the compliment and chirped happily. Jidné sucked in some air before injecting herself of the green, soothing substance on the flesh of her upper arm. The substance relieved her of the pain, but she still has to treat the wound.

“Thank you, both of you,”

“You’re welcome, again,” Cal cooed bashfully, hanging his head low so Jidné doesn’t find him blushing.

And then the same awkward silence immediately followed them back.

“So, uh, what are you doing in the middle of the jungle?”

Okay, that was bad enough! Cal scolded himself in his subconscious.

“I should I ask you the same,” chuckled Jidné.

“W-Well, I was about to take a look around the town there until…”

Jidné bobbed her head, prompting him to continue.

“Until I heard you.” He finished.

“Oh… Well, my hero,” she giggled at her lighthearted yet dry joke. Cal received it as a compliment and awkwardly chuckled along with her.

The silence was getting old between the two of them now—that much they’re certain of. Both youngsters just don’t know how to interact with one another for their own various reasons.

“Listen, Jidné… um…”

“Yes?”

Cal had his tongue tied, he didn’t realize that he was saying things to her out on a whim, he didn’t exactly plan ahead with the conversations that he starts with her. He gulped the lump that’s been stuck in the middle of his throat so he could say the words right.

“You should treat that wound soon,”

Jidné examined her wound again, “Yeah, I suppose I should.”

“Right, err… so… I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulder; in a deadpan tone, she added, “Maybe.”

Jidné watched this endearing, bumbling, ginger Jedi slowly back away into his original path. She remained where she stood until he was out of sight, out of the forest and back into the open—where he planned to be in the first place.

“Good gods, that boy… is a threat? To Darth Vader?”

“Trill, beeeee-eeep!” ID-3 chirped teasingly.

The bounty hunter translated the droidspeak, her own droid was teasing her that she must have found him cute.

“Oh shut up, you flying saucer,” she chuckled in great denial.

She began walking in the opposite path, where the wood gradually cleared out; along the way, she found her rifle that the Bashiji had chewed on. She picked the weapon and studied the damage, bite marks have dented the paneling; she flicked the safety and cocked it to see if it would still work.

“Well, so much for that mint condition earlier,” groaned the girl. “Come on, ID. I need to wash off this blood.”

The droid hovered as he followed her along, continuing to tease her in an upbeat string of notes and chirps—which Jidné constantly defended herself from.

“Beee-beeep!”

“You can’t prove I was blushing—you were behind me!”

Eventually, ID-3 finally toned down on the teasing, much to Jidné’s relief. Her trek ended when she spotted the bank of a river that leads to a waterfall on the far right, the crashing was within hearing range and so she decided to go to the main basin.

Stripping off her cowl and jacket, leaving only her black tank top, the claws of the Bashiji have sickled through the fabric and nicked at the corner of her shoulder; had that cat buried its nails into her then it would’ve reached the bone. Jidné soaked her clothes into the shallower part of the water, then scooped up handfuls of water to wash away the dried blood; when the wound had lessened the bleeding, she decided that it would be impractical if she hiked back to her ship to patch herself up.

“Never thought I’d be doing this again,” she mumbled under her breath.

She resorted to using Force healing, albeit was a skill that she’s still learning; in her level, it required her to meditate—compared to her late mentor who did it as simply as breathing, it was one of the things she strived to imitate in terms of mastery. Nonetheless, she sat herself up—back straight, legs crossed together, and her mentality clear. Jidné allowed herself to relax on her grassy seat, her fingers loosened around her kneecaps and took slow, calm breaths—feeling the warmth of the midday sun pinching her cheeks with its rays.

Her surroundings in her consciousness were beginning to blur as she puts her mind into focus. Her senses have softened and keened at the same time—a phenomenon that was instinctive as it was complicated to comprehend to those who are less sensitive, it was something she can’t put into words yet there was a familiarity to it. At first, she managed to reconnect with the Force and gently willed it to the wound—bit by bit, new skin began to seal the damaged flesh; when she sensed that she was succeeding, she strained out of impatience which she mistook for eagerness.

“Come on…!” muttered Jidné almost voicelessly, but the demand in her tone was apparent.

Jidné sensed that the new skin had slowed down in closing the wound, she forced herself just a little bit and she snapped back involuntarily; as consequence, the injury didn’t fully close, a significant portion of it remained fresh and unhealed—perhaps half in size. At least the bleeding stopped.

She examined her wound, patting on the new skin that concealed the rest of the injury. Accepting that she had lost control with her grasp on the Force, she resolved to letting what remains heal naturally; her mind shifted to the thought of Cal. The fact that he’s already met her and identified her as a Jedi—and not a bounty hunter—a strategy came up onto the top of her mind.

“This complicates things, though,” she thought out loud.

She continued to clean the grime, dust, and blood off of herself by the riverbank. Seeing that the forest was devoid of other humans or sentient life forms, she decided to take a dip into the cool water of the waterfall’s basin. The coldness blanketed and soothed every inch of her body, her dark hair swirling underwater; as she swam around, her mind constantly reminded her of Cal—the way he behaved, the way he spoke, but most importantly, his touch.

She brought her hand up from the water to examine it and try to reenact how she took his hand, how he held it, and how they shook each other’s hands. His palm was coarse, no doubt from his line of work, but if Jidné thinks about it—his grasp was so gentle. Water plopped when she jerked it back down, but she can’t stop rubbing her fingers in that hand.

“Definitely complicates things,” she groaned and submerged her face into the water, bubbles boiled as she exhaled her frustration underwater.

On the other hand, Jidné relished her time alone, bathing in the waterfall—it was a badly-needed cleanse. In the very center of the basin, she attempted to meditate—burying her toes into the silt floor of the stream to anchor herself, her body submerged from the chin down, and letting the coolness blanket her.

“Find it, Jidné,” she coaxes herself. “Latch onto it.”

She repeated this mantra until the sound of the waterfall have hollowed out in her hearing, until the only thing she could feel was her entire body subtly floating within the weak current of the water.

Nothing.

She growled, smacking and pounding the water with her fist, creating fountain-like splashes that rained down on her head. She brought her hands back out of the water again, gazing at her empty hands riddled with water droplets like transparent pearls.

“It’s always like this. I couldn’t be that damaged with the Force, could I?”

ID-3—who was hovering above the water, staying close to her as she swam—answered her question, even though it wasn’t exactly directed to him. He sounded affirming towards his owner, chirping high-pitched, raspy tones at Jidné.

“Thanks, ID, I appreciate that,” she hummed and continued to swim.

After her bath, she put on her clothes and collected her things before proceeding to hike through the jungle, avoiding the denser patches of greenery where Bashiji cats or other predators might jump on her again.

She decided to climb the waterfall’s wall, curious to see where it would lead her. Her little droid clamped itself on the harness’s strap on her back as she climbed. Using the skills she’s gained from her Padawan training back in the day, she scaled the rock wall with little to no equipment—just her iron grip.

“Just don’t look down, ID!”

“Booo-wooooo!!” the droid chirped in a nauseated tone.

The climb led the duo to the mesa, in the same level where she originally came from before landing into the surface of the jungle. From there, she stalked the ridge in search of the Mantis—relying on the homing beacon as she goes. The farther she went, the device’s beeping rhythm became faster until slow beating transitioned into a quick flickering with the noise barely keeping up with the pace.

She places herself on a vantage point, quite higher than her original spot where she first found the ship—atop a boulder’s throw. Zooming in through her binoculars, she scanned the treelines again, hoping to spot that same silver twinkle that she saw prior to this unprecedented predicament. The Mantis stuck out more from her current perspective, she patiently sat there, examining Cal’s companions.

Jidné eventually spotted that particular Lateron that Sorc was talking about. She watched the four-armed gray creature flail his arms while inaudibly conversing with a much older lady wearing beige clothes while a second lady in red and black garments—whom Jidné assumed to be Dathomirian—stood idly to survey the nature around them.

“Completely harmless, I wager,” Jidné commented to herself. “Kinda cranky for his size, though.”

She thumbed the knob on the underside of her binoculars to zoom in some more, she got a closer look of the Mantis and it was clear enough for her to see their faces.

“They’re obviously hiding it inside that ship,”

That fact led to Jidné remembering that her initial plan had been slightly ruined, hence the necessary alterations. With Cal thinking that she was friend not foe, the bounty hunter concocted her Plan B on the spot.

“I guess I have to keep up an act now, huh?”

“Beee. Trill, beep,”

“Figures…” she sighed. “One hell of a contract, eh, ID?”

[supposed2bfunny]

Alright, this might be a bit serious for this blog, but do you have any Plastic Beach headcanons? I know that neither of the boys were in a mentally good state back then, but it certainly made an impact on their relationship.

Oof I do generally avoid Plastic Beach because it is definitely not my cup of tea in terms of dark plot and angst factors. Angst is just. Not generally my thing unless there’s a hefty dose of comfort with it.

But here goes!

-Murdoc was drinking and drugging himself nearly to death during his time on PB, but at some point, you have to consider the possibility that one of the ships that brought supplies might have been delayed due to storms or something. Consider Murdoc, locked away in his room, out of drugs, nearly out of liquor, physically ill and mentally reeling. 2D didn’t see Murdoc during this time: Cyborg Noodle was under strict orders to keep 2D in his room, so he wouldn’t see Murdoc like that.

-2D would spend so much time in his captivity having imaginary conversations with Murdoc, ripping him apart, saying all the things he’s always wanted to say. But whenever they would meet up to actually record music, 2D would clam up and not say anything. His silence seemed to sting even more than if he had snapped at him.

-Outside of strictly necessary exchanges to make music, they didn’t talk to each other at all for a majority of their time on the island. The toxicity of Plastic Beach was not Murdoc and 2D’s hatred coming to a head: it was their self-imposed forced isolation.

-2D’s anxiety spiked so bad: he bit his nails down till there was nothing left to bite, then started picking at his hair and clothing. His shirts and bandanas were always super ratty-looking and covered in holes, and his hair became so frayed with split ends that Murdoc eventually ordered Cyborg Noodle to cut his hair. He had none of the stim toys/comfort items he usually had with him :/

-It was Murdoc who eventually reached out, unable to handle the silence anymore. He sat outside 2D’s door one day and just kept talking quietly, coaxing, until 2D opened the door and let him in. They sat on opposite ends of the room, stiff and awkward. Eventually, Murdoc started to cry. 2D just watched him do it, and after some time, Murdoc left in shame.

-But that was a sort of breaking point, because after that they began to talk, 2D asking questions about the lyrics, the music, when they could leave the island, what they might do next (even on PB, their co-dependence was so bad that he never pictured a future where Murdoc wasn’t with him in any scenario they could scheme up). Their relationship began to repair itself just a tiny bit.

-The first time he was recording a demo of “To Binge,” 2D broke down in tears when he got to the “I just have to tell you that I love you so much these days” part. Murdoc couldn’t look at him. They both knew.

-It was on the roof one night, under the stars, that Murdoc repeated those words, confessed that he was in love with 2D. Despite how much their relationship had been improving, that night, 2D, unable to hear those words and reconcile them with this torture, stood up and went back into his room, where he remained until the Black Clouds attacked.

-I KNOW this is giving Murdoc far too much humanity and credit, but the way we see him trying to escape in that submarine post-Rhinestone Eyes? He was fleeing and leaving 2D behind, yes. That’s because he was willing to gamble that the Black Clouds would follow him and leave 2D, Russel, and Noodle alone. He was correct.

-As bad as it was being stuck on the island with each other, the events between Plastic Beach and Humanz was worse. 2D and Murdoc both assumed the other was dead and they did not respond well. 

-Murdoc was not imprisoned by EMI: he was institutionalized after being found, incoherent and near-death, in his submarine in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

-2D didn’t fair much better: he was found in Guadalupe, frying his brain with psychedelics, alternately insisting that he had to find his friend Murdoc, and that Murdoc was the devil and had sunk to the bottom of the sea. That year of finding himself? That was a year in a rehab center detoxing and receiving news that the rest of the band was alive.

-Basically, when they got back together for the next album, a lot was clear: they both knew Murdoc loved 2D at this point, but neither of them was sure if they could get past the toxicity of what they had survived, or if that love was worth exploring at all.

-Nonetheless, Murdoc’s willingness to ultimately die to protect them, and 2D’s pain at his loss, was enough to indicate to them that their compassion for one another, however fucked up, was pretty mutual and real.

-But hoooo boy they both had to start fresh and learn to be friends all over again.

These are really dark, and not really headcanons so much as a personal timeline. I hope these are okay! Again, I don’t exactly have headcanons for this phase because I tend to avoid thinking about it altogether. Hope these suffice!

[meggtheegg]

ooh would love to hear you elaborate on autistic!evan please? :))

Okay yes!So. Basically:Throughout the play, Evan shows many symptoms of autism (specifically Asperger’s.) The level of those symptoms varies by actor but there is evidence in just the script that backs my point up.

First, obviously, there’s his social anxiety. Now, of course, social anxiety can be its own thing, but it often goes hand-in-hand with autism, because people on the spectrum have trouble knowing how to behave in a socially acceptable way and often face criticism and backlash for things they didn’t realize were issues.

Then, there’s another big one: his fixation on trees. He brings them up almost constantly, sometimes at points where there’s no obvious reason to bring them up. He writes himself talking about them, unprompted, in Sincerely Me, with the assumption that looking at cool pictures of trees will help someone feel better. And he probably does this a lot in the fake emails we don’t see, considering that Alana becomes convinced that Connor is obsessed with trees. Jared uses it to make a point to Evan about how much he’s pushed Connor out of the narrative. (”If there’s one thing about Connor, the guy loved trees. No, wait. You love trees.”) This is exactly how a lot of autistic people treat their special interests. Wanting to talk about them all the time, changing the subject to turn an unrelated conversation into one about those special interests, becoming an “expert” on them and assuming that other people will get excited about them, too. 

Now, with those two things out of the way, there’s the slightly more subtextual stuff.Evan is very black-and-white in the way he thinks about things. And he takes a lot at face value. When Jared jokes that he broke his arm by jerking off too much, he reacts as if people will believe that he did, even though it’s obviously a joke. He believes Jared and Alana’s very thin facades, and that leads to him falling out with both of them, because he assumes that Jared won’t care if he cuts him out and that Alana isn’t emotionally invested in the Connor Project. He believes Heidi thinks he’s broken because she put him on meds (which, if he’s misdiagnosed and on the spectrum, probably don’t work anyway, but more on that later) and decides that she sees him as a burden. He thinks she won’t mind that he’s at the Murphys’ house instead of at Jared’s because he’s out either way, so why does it matter where he is? He sees all the bad parts of his mom, but all the good parts of the Murphys, not noticing their better-concealed but pretty major problems. He thinks that because they dote on him and don’t push him to get help that they like him more than his mom does. They show more obvious, outward signs of affection, and that is very clear. No interpretation needed. Heidi is trying her best and definitely loves him, but to an autistic kid, that’s a lot harder to see. 

He misunderstands people’s intentions all the time, like with Alana and Jared, with his assumption that Connor took the note in order to bully him with it, thinking that Zoe was breaking up with him when she came over, etc.

He doesn’t connect the dots with social expectations. He’s taken aback at the idea that he’d be expected to give a speech at the kickoff event for the Connor Project, even though it should be obvious. He doesn’t initially realize that the Murphys are going to want to see him again after that first dinner, and that they’ll want to see the supposed “emails.” (And he fails to notice the pretty gay implications of his story until Jared points it out, after which he goes noticeably far to try to shake that idea off.) And that lack of social awareness leads to him doing things he shouldn’t. He gets pulled into the lie and lets it spiral out of control, unaware of how wrong it is and how he’s making it worse. He brushes Jared and Heidi off and replaces them, then is taken aback when they’re upset about it. He kisses Zoe without realizing how wildly inappropriate it is. 

He tends to talk too much, going off on tangents to try to clarify what he’s saying even if clarification isn’t needed. (”I love jazz. Well, not all jazz, but definitely like, jazz-band-jazz, that’s so weird, I’m sorry.” “Well, sometimes. If he brought it up. I never brought it up. Obviously. Why would I have brought it up?”)

He seems to have sensory issues, too. A lot of his worst decisions are made in a desperate attempt to make the people around him stop yelling. That was what caused him to not tell the truth about the note in the first place. He’s also always very aware of how sweaty his hands are, and he often stops to just touch and feel things to ground himself. A lot of actors have him often messing with his clothes, especially his collar, as if he’s bothered by how it’s brushing against his skin.

He has trouble in social situations where he doesn’t have a general planned idea of what to say. He always starts his description of breaking his arm with “I fell out of a tree, actually…” and clearly has the way he’ll tell the story clearly planned out in his head. His interactions with his mom generally seem kind of wooden and practiced. When forced into situations with the Murphys that he doesn’t have a script for, he gets panicked and escalates things. He has a panic attack when he drops his notecards. He’s also very repetitive and clings onto things he’s used to and comfortable with. He repeats the lie in the same way so many times that Alana gets annoyed with him, saying something like “Yes, I know the story, Evan. We’ve all heard the story. You’re like a broken freaking record about it.” Zoe has to ask him to stop talking about the Connor Project. Also, based on the book, he sticks very closely to a routine. He has the same lunch every single day (and sits in the same spot, I believe.) He describes his letter-writing process in a very step-by-step, planned out, repetitive way. There are probably more examples but I haven’t read the book in a while and I think I’ve made my point.

Also, a lot of this is down to acting choices, but most actors I’ve seen play Evan with a lot of “tics” and fidgeting, ie. stimming, and a tendency to avoid eye contact. Some of them give him issues with volume control. At one point my brother noticed that Michael Lee Brown even went for some subtle echolalia. He also sometimes squeaks a lot or makes other noises and gestures that seem to have no clear purpose.

What really seals the deal for me is the whole medication/feeling broken thing. It was almost definitely not Steven Levenson’s intent but hey, death of the author. I interpret the text, not the intention. A major criticism of the show is that Evan goes off his meds and is totally fine afterwards. That is not a good message to send and seems poorly thought out for a show that seems to have thought of a lot. But, if he was misdiagnosed with an anxiety disorder, depression, etc, medication wouldn’t do what it was supposed to. It obviously wouldn’t make him less autistic, and could actually make him feel worse because they’re supposed to “fix” him and aren’t doing that. Autism isn’t a treatable thing, especially not with pills. Maybe the meds alleviated the anxiety, but his social struggles didn’t go away. And that convinces him that there is something inherently wrong, or broken about him. (”I’d rather pretend I’m something better than these broken parts / Pretend I’m something other than this mess that I am.”) He’s being treated for the wrong disorder, so of course it’s not working. Of course stopping them doesn’t really make a difference. If the causes of his anxiety were lessened, it could be possible that by the time he stopped, they were doing nothing at all for him, anyway.

Writing affirmation letters and taking anxiety medication doesn’t take away sensory issues or difficulty with social cues. It doesn’t stop special interests from being the only thing you want to talk about. It doesn’t stop the desperate desire to fit in and no idea how to. And in Evan’s specific case, it didn’t stop him from being constantly berated by his overly honest only friend over things he didn’t realize were socially unacceptable. It didn’t stop his mom from acting like he wasn’t trying. It didn’t stop the rest of the school from ostracizing him. 

That’s what made him cling onto the Murphys. They made him feel like he wasn’t broken. Zoe treated his struggles and quirks like they were endearing instead of annoying. Larry and Cynthia never acted like he was different and encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone, but not to the point that it felt like they were pushing. They treated him the way they treated anyone else. And that was all he wanted. 

[writing-in-verse]

The Birds and The Bees (and The Blackthorns) Part Two

This is part two of my colaboration with @ti-bae-rius! Click here for Part One! Click here to see Lauryn’s Headcanons if you haven’t already! The master-list should be linked here too shortly!

Enjoy!

After Livvy had left Ty spent the spent the rest of the night reading Sherlock Holmes, The Sign of Four, searching for a sense of understanding within the familiar pages. By the time Livvy returned, he was fast asleep, the book open mid-story next to him. Livvy had found Dru with Kit in the training room apparently learning a technique that involved an old coat with bells on it. She’d seen them through the door but didn’t want to interrupt them so headed back to her room, intent on seeing Dru the next day. She quietly lifted the book off the bed and, careful not to disturb her sleeping brother, took his headphones off and placed them on the bedside table. She turned off the lamp and climbed into bed beside him, pressing her back into his. Ty moved and Livvy felt him relax into the connection. She couldn’t remember the last time things felt so mundane in the Blackthorn house; Julian was finally getting the support he needed from Helen and Aline, there was no world-ending event threatening everyone they loved; they could finally focus on each other.

Ty awoke before Livvy, crawling out from under the covers, and looked at her. He smiled at Livvy, glad she seemed to peaceful, knowing how different things would have been if she hadn’t survived. He shook off the thought and quietly headed for breakfast, taking the Sherlock Holmes anthology off the bedside table and putting his headphones around his neck. He made his way through the silent corridors and, hearing the laughter of the kitchen before he saw any of his family, he put his headphones on, dulling the sounds to a more manageable murmur. Reaching the kitchen Ty looked around the room, taking in the bustle of the early morning. There was Tavvy, listening to Mark’s tales of Fey valour and attempts to make breakfast sound more whimsical. Emma was with Cristina, chatting just out of earshot of the others. Cristina’s travel year was coming to a close and Ty wondered how much she’d come to visit; she’d become one of the family over the last year and it was strange thinking of her no longer living here. Finally, Julian was making breakfast, as he always did, cooking up plates of food that Helen and Aline passed around the table. Ty’s initial sweep had accounted for the entire house, minus two very notable exceptions: Dru and Kit. A voice in the back of Ty’s mind told him to turn around immediately and go search for Kit, who had most likely been training with Dru all night and had slept in, but Julian saw he was stood by the door and waved him over. Ty pushed one headphone behind his ear as he wandered over, the sounds of the gathering mixing jarringly with his own internal monologue, and he wanted more than anything to be anywhere else. Julian, seemingly aware the kitchen was currently Ty’s least favourite location, gave him some toast and said “Make sure you eat this, but you’re okay to go eat this somewhere else. I haven’t seen Kit, but he might be his room. Is Livvy in hers?”

Ty nodded imperceptibly, the noise getting more distracting as the seconds ticked by and took the toast from Julian.

“Okay, I won’t keep you here, I’ll see you later,” Julian said and didn’t wait for a response, leaving Ty to head out of the kitchen.

Ty shook his head, the headphone sliding into place over his ear, and walked out as quietly as he came in. He made his way to Kit’s room, intending to share his breakfast as he guessed Kit hadn’t come for any, but when he arrived he found the door open and the dark-haired boy was nowhere in sight. Kit’s phone was on the bedside table, so surely he was expecting to be back soon, but his bed was neat, meaning he hadn’t slept here last night. A familiar panic started to rise in Ty’s chest before he noticed Dru’s jacket was here too. They had both gone off together. He spent the next minute calming his nerves, concluding they had both gone to train and had stayed there most of the night which was something they did every week or so. He was about to leave in search of the pair when he noticed the empty shelf on the wall of Kit’s room.

“I don’t really have any stuff, they had to give me some of your clothes when I moved in, so I don’t really need those shelves. You can use them if you want,” Kit had said when Ty had first started staying on the floor of his room.

So, Ty took a bite of his toast and, setting the plate down on the bed, ventured to his room to grab some things to decorate the shelf.  His mind was already calming at the idea of arranging his belongings to his taste, and more so at the thought of Kit seeing his hard work. After several rather precarious trips from Kit’s room to his, Ty had gathered all the things he needed and set about placing them along the shelf. On the left-hand side Ty placed his Sherlock Holmes anthology ready for pick-up at a moment’s notice. From there he lined up jars, wrapped in paper with a series of holes in, placed for insect collection and observation. He also put a notebook next to the Sherlock Holmes Anthology for writing down anything interesting the various insects did. Next to that Ty put a plastic tray filled with fidget toys, many in some state of disrepair, and many pieces of sea glass and shells he’d collected on the many trip he’d taken to the beach, both with and without his family. On the end was a stack of papers, gracefully drawn pictures from Julian, explaining all the different phrases Ty might have trouble understanding were being weighed down by a lump of amethyst. Finally, he draped some fairy lights across the front and placed the dimmer on the bedside for easy reach. When he was done, he sat down on the bed, being careful not to sit on the barely-touched toast and smiled up at his accomplishment. He was glad a part of him was in Kit’s room, giving it a sense of life and personality that wasn’t there before. Thinking of Kit reminded Ty that he was going to find the boy, and now he had something to show him, something he hoped Kit would like. He thought about where Kit could be, thinking of Dru and Kit often spending time in the training room, and set off in that direction. He was halfway to the training room before a door opened in front of him and Julian stepped out, a confused-looking Tavvy trailing out beside him.

“Jules, do you and Emma love each other very much?”

Julian audibly choked at Tavvy’s question and Ty heard Emma giggling inside the room. “I-Tavvy, go find Mark, he should be in his room. I’ll come check on you later, okay?”

Tavvy turned and wandered away in the opposite direction to where Ty was standing watching the scene unfold. Ty watched his younger brother disappear down the corridor and smiled to himself. He loved his family and always marvelled at Tavvy’s innocence. He hoped that when Tavvy was shaped into the fierce Shadowhunter he was destined to become that innocence wouldn’t be forgotten.

“Ty, just the person I wanted to see.” Julian came wandering up to Ty, looking down at him with clear, blue-green eyes the colour of the ocean. “Emma and I thought with some of the changes going on right now, specifically between me and Emma, we’d talk to you all about what it means. Please, step into my office.” Julian smirked slightly as he walked back to the room, Ty following on his heel.

“This isn’t your office, in fact I don’t think you have an office, Jules,” Ty replied, puzzled.

“Yeah, sorry, you’re right. But I thought it would be good to have somewhere I could talk to everyone privately.”

“Is everything okay? Has something happened?” Ty was vaguely concerned one of his siblings had done something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“No, not at all. Me and Emma thought it’d be good to teach you about what it meant now that we’re together,” Julian looked awkward, something Ty had never openly seen from his brother, but then Julian had changed a lot over the weeks and months. He decided this was a part of a positive change. “We also realised that you’re getting older and you’re going to start noticing some changes to your body and, if you meet the right person, you might start thinking and feeling things you haven’t thought or felt before.”

“It’s ‘Emma and I’, Julian, and what changes?”

“Well,” Emma said, taking over from Julian. “One of the first things that’ll happen is your voice will break.”

“My voice will break?” Ty asked, sounding suddenly alarmed. “Will I be able to fix it?”

Julian gave Emma a pointed look and she shrugged apologetically.

“Ty, listen,” Julian said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “Your voice isn’t really going to break, it’s just going to get deeper, and that’s okay. It’s perfectly natural for it to happen.”

“Why do they call it breaking if it doesn’t really break? That’s just confusing.” Ty wasn’t so much panicked anymore as he was irritated at the lack of clarity.

“Well, now we have that cleared up, let’s talk about the birds and bees,” Emma said, sounding enthusiastic at the thought.

“Oh, babe, no!”

“Birds and bees? Where? I love bees. You don’t see them as much now because they’re going extinct. Where are they?” Ty’s hands started to squeeze in and out of fists at the thought of seeing bees and birds and Julian’s heart almost broke at having to disappoint him.

“Ty, there are no birds or bees, that’s not what I meant,” Emma’s voice sounded gentle and Julian could see the guilt in her features at accidentally misleading the boy.

Ty slowly stopped stimming, his shoulders sagging slightly. That’s what it was called, Julian knew. He’d looked some terms up after Kit had mentioned Ty had autism.

“Emma, look how disappointed he is there are no bees. Please stop.” He turned back to Ty. “Listen, I think this whole thing has been a bit of a disaster. Why don’t you find Livvy or Kit, we’ll talk to you later?”

“So, no bees?”

“No bees, Ty. I’m sorry.” Julian looked at Emma, indicating there’d be words about the situation when they were alone, and Emma made a mock look of fear, but Julian could tell she felt bad. He led a disappointed Ty to the door and then out into the corridor. “I’ll come and find you later, Okay?”

“Okay.” Ty was so lost in his own world, thinking about bees and birds, that he forgot to go the library to find Kit. Instead he walked all the way back to Kit’s room, and only realised his mistake when he laid down on the bed. He was about to get up and leave again when a burning light appeared in front of him and a piece of paper materialised in front of him, landing on his chest. Ty picked up the fire message, seeing Tiberius scrawled across the front, and, unfolding the message, began to read.

Ty,

If you’re reading this, it means I haven’t messed something up and I managed to send a fire message. I mean, I guess you’ve figured that out by reading the message that just appeared in front of you. Anyway, I’m hiding in the library and it’s kind of boring on my own so if you want we could hide here together? It’s cool if you don’t want to though I understand.

See you soon maybe,

Kit x

Ty looked at the messaged and smiled to himself. He got off the bed and picked up the notebook. Turning to a new page he sat on the edge of the bed and began to write.

Kit,

I received your fire message…

[wireslide]

"It's like saying Shiro actually has feelings for Lance just because they like to flirt in front of the tourists," Keith's tone was sharp, and carried down the hall with a razor's edge, "it's just as ridiculous. Borf is a sapient individual, the idea of someone putting a collar on him, much less a leash, just because he looks like a dog--"

"No one with any brains is suggesting that you put a collar on Borf, Keith," Pidge sounded like she'd been listening to this rant for at least an hour, "it was one lady, who is afraid of dogs, and her opinion has no weight here. Or it wouldn't, if you hadn't gotten in her face and offered to chain her up while holding a glowing alien knife."

Lance decided that was as good a cue as any, stepping into the hall and pulling the supply closet door closed behind him. "What's this about Keith pulling his blade on a tourist? Dude, people are going to think we're unstable. Did you go Galra-eyed?"

"What? No!" The indignance quickly faded to uncertainty. He looked to Pidge, who was already pulling up the security video on her tablet.

"Looks like you're in the clear," she assured.

"Well, there's that, at least. Ronnie will smooth things out with the lady, probably, but you should get her like, a nice gift basket or something because PR disasters aren't her job any more." Lance clapped him on the shoulder, feeling as though his smile was maybe a little too wide. "Borf is perfectly capable of handling assholes on his own. The biggest detriment to his image at this point is your protective instincts. Let him handle his own shit-talk. And on that note, buddy," he leaned in and down, rolling his eyes up above a grin that he knew made Keith uncomfortable, "literally everything that happens between me and Shiro, feelings or no, is none of your business." He patted the taller paladin's shoulder and headed down the hall.

He managed to get around the corner and into a small, empty office before he started shaking. He wedged himself down by the desk, pulling his knees tightly to his chest to force his breathing to slow and keeping his eyes closed to keep from crying too much. Get it together, he thought, just breathe. Keith doesn't know jack. He repeated the last bit to himself emphatically, finally whispering it just to hear it out loud.

Shiro's quiet laugh caught him off guard. "There seem to be a few things that applies to, today." He crossed the small office and sat on the floor beside Lance, automatically putting his arm around him. He only hesitated when the younger man stiffened. "Lance?"

"What am I to you, Shiro?" Watery blue eyes opened to look at him, and for the first time in years, Shiro felt like his lungs wouldn't pull in air on their own. He looked away, automatically at his wrist where the stim band this body had never worn would sit.

He could feel himself shutting down already, echoes of an argument with a love long gone thundering through his brain. Lance deserved an answer, because he had one now as he hadn't before, so he looked back into that uncertain gaze and smiled. "I told you, Lance. You're the only thing cooler than space. I would rather have another day with you than another flight through the Deltarian belt. The view's way better." He brushed Lance's hair out of his face with his prosthetic, leaning down to press a kiss to Lance's forehead. "What did Keith say?"

Suddenly reluctant to get Keith in trouble, Lance looked down, leaning against Shiro's shoulder and pushing back his cuticles with his thumbnail. "He was talking to Pidge and he was using you having feelings for me as a comparison for the ridiculous." He looked up as Shiro shifted to pull out his phone. "What--" He melted into the sudden kiss, fingers twisting in Shiro's shirt, jangling his dog tags. The sound covered the whir of the phone's camera, but not the clatter as Shiro promptly dropped it to pull Lance fully into his lap.

Shiro lost track of trying to make his point with the kiss around the time Lance made a sound in the back of his throat that made him think of things a lot more involved than kissing. He gripped the younger pilot's knee with his prosthetic and shifted Lance to straddle him, other hand immediately burying in that too-soft hair. He kissed him until the world spun, until his brain refused to offer any memories of other flavors on his tongue, until the only thing he could hear besides the rush of blood in his ears were the muffled moans Lance gasped out against his lips. When he pulled back, the wide-eyed pout the younger man gave him almost drove away the idea of catching his breath.

He swallowed against the urge to let the twist of Lance's fingers in his shirt pull him back in to happily suffocate, instead reaching down to pick his phone back up. He showed Lance the open camera, pulled up the last photo taken, and couldn't resist a smug smile when those blue eyes looked away in embarrassment. "What? I think you're very photogenic, don't you?" He turned the phone back towards himself and flicked his thumb over it a few times.  "I was going to send it to Keith," he hummed, pursing his lips when Lance's head snapped back to him, "but he doesn't get to have pictures of this. Not even to remind him that he has no say in anything between us." He set the phone back down, and Lance's phone buzzed. He brushed soft brown hair back and placed a small, chaste kiss at the corner of Lance's mouth. "Seems like you could use it, though."

Lance gave him a little smile, leaning forward again to follow his lips, sighing happily through his nose when Shiro obediently kissed him again. Thirty seconds later, he realized the constant buzzing he could hear wasn't the head rush Shiro's kisses gave him, but both of their phones in a state of perpetual notifications. He leaned back with a frown and picked up his phone.

Shiro had never seen anyone go from headily flushed to ashen so quickly, and he wasn't sure it was healthy. "Lance?"

Those dark blue eyes slid up to his face from the phone in sheer horror. "You sent that in a group text."