#hey weren’t there supposed to be alien bitches here

[bea-trician]

Sketches of some alien bitches for an upcoming zine.

[platonicavengers]

headcanons for being the youngest maximoff (part two)

pairings: maximoff twins x sibling!gn!reader && avengers x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for infinity war + endgame, death, non-descriptive violence, idk

author’s note: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT AAAAAAAA it was supposed to be up a while ago but things got in the way and im so sorry :(

tags: @madamevirgo​  @euphoniumpets​

headcanons under the cut !

so

after steve broke everyone out of the raft you were all on the run for a while

vision and natasha joined you all at some point, and scott and clint returned home to their families

after a while wanda and vision decided to stay in scotland, leaving you with sam, nat, and steve

you were not a huge fan of the idea of leaving her behind

you had already lost your parents and pietro and even though she wasn’t dead you still wouldn’t be able to see her

but you knew why she did what she did

fast forward a little bit

you find out that tony went missing

and then that wanda and vision are being attacked

so u all fly to scotland to help them

*insert u being a badass and beating the shit out of an alien*

finally reuniting w your sister

there were tears

when you arrived back at the compound it was like a breath of fresh air after so long

it’s a shame you weren’t there under better circumstances

immediately getting upset when you saw the hologram of ross

that motherfucker

anyways

going to wakanda was an.... interesting experience

you wanted to enjoy it 

but considering why you were there,,,,,,

it was kinda hard to enjoy it lol

wanda ofc stayed up in the lab with vision and shuri

she wanted you to stay up there as well so she could keep an eye on you

she was very hesitant to let you go into the front lines of the battle

even though you were an adult now you were still her little sibling and she was worried for you

you assured her that you would be fine though

fine might be pushing it but

let’s be realistic here

you kicked some alien ass down there

taking out enemy after enemy with no hesitation

pretty impressive tbh. ur fucking awesome

ily

anyways

eventually wanda came down to join the battle

the two of you fought alongside each other

badass sibling duo ugh yes

but then

you had to go against thanos himself

ugly ass mf

you tried to use your magic to remove his gauntlet

you were unsuccessful

he kinda tossed you to the side like a rag doll

which hurt like a bitch

when he snapped you had no idea what tf to do

i mean you had just lost, what were you supposed to do?

you were in the middle of crawling over to wanda, wanting to try to comfort her over the loss of vision

but then she just kinda, disintegrated?

you were in shock for a minute

but then it hit you

“no, no, no, no, no...”

you started sobbing

now you had officially lost your whole family

after a little bit you made your way over to what was left of the team

you all kinda stood in silence for a little while, just processing everything that had happened

eventually you all returned to the quinjet and flew back home

for the first two-ish weeks after the snap you just locked yourself in your room and refused to leave

though eventually you did leave your room again, though very reluctantly

after three weeks had passed by carol, who you were quite fascinated by, returned to the compound carrying a spaceship with her

turns out tony was on said ship

you were glad to see him after so long

and now we jump to going to space to beat thanos’ ass (a g a i n)

you had never been to space before so it was quite a new experience

shame it was under such poor circumstances

when you arrived at thanos’ residence you were out for blood

he took your last remaining family and you were not in the mood to let him get away with it

and then you found out the stones were gone

and everything he had done couldn’t or so you thought be reversed

you were already ready to kill thanos before, but especially now that that was revealed

sadly though, thor took the responsibility of killing the titan himself

*5 years later*

you were 23 now

a whole ass adult

you still lived at the compound with natasha, not exactly having anywhere else to go

not like you would’ve left anyways but

nat had become your sort of support system over the last few years

after all, at this point you really only had each other

all of the rest of the remaining team went their separate ways, none of which deciding to stay with the two of you

one day though steve comes by

you were glad to see him, you had missed him a lot since he left

the three of you had a not-so-positive conversation and then out of nowhere scott appears at the front gate

he tells you his insane idea of using the quantum realm to time travel back to before thanos

you were very wary

you didn’t exactly have a lot of knowledge on the quantum realm but you could still tell that it seemed risky

the four of you went to tony’s house to try to convince him

he almost immediately said no

yikes

you all tried to convince him but to no avail

so you went to bruce hulk instead

bruce?? hulk?? who tf is he tbh

but anywho

when you saw him you were kinda like ????????

but chose to ignore it

you got him to agree to the time travel thing

and it was ?somewhat? successful

somewhat is pushing it tbh

scott became a baby which wasn’t great

but then tony showed up and fixed it like the genius he is

you helped recruit all the remaining avengers to help w the whole time travel thing

you were going to go back in time and get the stones before thanos could

you went with clint and natasha to vormir

you thought it made the most sense for you to sacrifice yourself

after all you weren’t even positive this whole thing with the stones would work, and you couldn’t risk continuing to live a life without wanda and the rest of the team

they stopped you before you could jump though

when natasha dropped you swore your heart stopped beating

she had been all you had for the past 5 years and then she was just gone

you ended up getting the soul stone but at what cost

you and clint returned to the compound and there was a small ‘memorial’ (for lack of a better word) for natasha

after that tony put all of the stones together into a makeshift gauntlet

after a little bit of deliberation it was decided that bruce would be the one to snap his fingers

bruce, hulk, whatever tf

brulk

LMFAO

sorry back to the headcanons LOL

he snapped

immediately everything felt different

you went out to look out a window, seeing a few butterflies fluttering around that you knew weren’t there before

a smile immediately took over ur face

“hey guys, i think it worked!” - you

you were about to turn around and walk back to everyone else

but then

you saw a large ship in the distance

and something began flying toward the compound

and then everything went dark

when you woke up again you were buried under a bunch of rubble

which bruce picked up off of you

you ran out to where thor, tony, and steve were

you saw thanos and froze

they were engaged in a battle and you tried to keep your distance in order to collect yourself for a moment

which proved to be futile because you were dragged into the fight not long after

you kinda got your ass handed to you

it wasn’t pretty

you were lying on the ground when all of a sudden you saw orange light surrounding you

you looked up to see portals opening, all your allies who you had thought to be dead stepping out

you saw wanda and you stopped breathing for a moment

you got up as quick as you could

which proved to be difficult due to ur injuries and overall extreme fatigue

you launched yourself at her, bringing her into the tightest hug you could muster

the two of you held onto each other for a moment before you had to return to fighting

maximoff sibling teamup part 2???? yeah most definitely 

fast forward to after thanos and his bitch ass army lost (im sorry i just really dont have the energy to write all that rn)

and to after tony’s funeral 

you and wanda had a l o t of catching up to do

like

5 years worth LOL

u had to comfort her over vision’s death a lot

considering that to her, that was still only a couple days ago

and a lot of the time when you two talked the mood was kinda depressing, all things considered

but you still tried to keep it lighthearted

for example

your absolute favorite thing in the world was the fact that you were now older than her due to the snap, 3 years older to be exact

you held it over her all the time, constantly making fun of her for it

all in good fun of course

something wanda really loved was when you would tell her stories from when she was in the soul world (only happy ones ofc)

though it made her sad that you had to go so long without her, and she missed out on so much

she wanted to know what she had missed

all in all

you two were incredibly close, the snap and its aftermath only further confirming that

sibling goals tbh

a/n #2: aaaaaa im sorry to end it on that note (i didnt know how to end it im sorry asf) but yeah </3 and once again, so sorry this took me so long to post, ive been super busy with school && life in general so i just havent gotten around to it :( butttttttttttt if u guys want i could try to continue this series of headcanons for wandavision?? i’d wait until friday ofc for the final episode and id spoiler tag it and everything but i could try my best? might be kinda difficult but i think it could be fun so if anyone wants that then lmk!! :)

[randomhl-vraifam]

So if you haven't seen @gryphsdeadbones and his incredible Gordon Cubed AU... go check it out, please. It's literally so fucking good, and you can read the comic @gordoncubed.

I asked if I could write something for this AU, and got the go ahead, so here we are! It was inspired by this ask and this ask, just in case anyone needs context for what's happening.

Anyway, uh... yeah. Here's a thing.

If you had told Gordon Freeman that, somewhere in the universe, there existed multiple versions of himself, each from very different dimensions, he might have actually believed you. He was a theoretical physicist, after all. The unknown and hypothetical was kind of his area of expertise.

However, if you had told him that his alternates were… like this? That he might have had a hard time believing. He was absolutely blown away by how much those two could talk. They did it constantly! Freeman wasn’t sure if they knew how to not talk. He considered, more than once, finding tape in one of the abandoned offices and sealing both their mouths shut.

He thought he’d be relieved if either of them decided to shut up.

Until one of them did.

Feetman (he still didn’t know what was up with that name) had been dangerously close to dying. Not that any of them were exactly safe from dying, but Feetman had ended up being a little closer to death than Freeman wanted to think about. He found himself wishing Feetman would talk more. If only to ensure that he was still conscious.

And he found himself wishing Freemind would talk less. A lot less.

It was almost as though the man felt the need to talk through the silence Feetman wasn’t filling. And he did so. Very obnoxiously. Normally, Freeman would tell him to knock off his shit, but he had a feeling that Freemind was just as nervous as he was, and the only outlet he had was talking. Freeman let it slide.

If you asked Freemind, he’d tell you that he gave absolutely no fucks about Feetman. He didn’t give a fuck about either of these idiots, aside from the fact that they were somewhat useful in getting through this hellhole. Except one of them was now considerably less useful.

Not only was Feetman less useful, he was a hindrance. Freemind didn’t like slow progress. He liked efficiency. He liked getting shit done. Dragging Feetman’s dumb ass around was not effecient and it wasn’t getting shit done. The guy seemed like he was almost always on the verge of collapsing.

So if he suggested that Feetman sit the fuck down, it was for the sake of making sure the idiot didn’t pass out and further impede their progress. Not because it bothered him to see the guy struggling to stand up straight. Because he didn’t give a fuck.

It’d gotten better after a couple of days, but only by a narrow margin. They weren’t having to stop as often, but Freeman was still adamant that Feetman not take any shifts on night watch, which Freemind found annoying as hell. He kept that opinion to himself, though. The silent member of the trio didn’t seem willing to compromise on the matter, and Freemind wasn’t willing to try and make him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off about it. Freeman could see Freemind getting more and more agitated. He snapped more often, and in more hurtful ways. There were only so many times Freeman could tell him to shut up, eventually Freemind got around to talking again.

Freeman didn’t mind stopping for Feetman when he needed it. More often than not, Freeman would have to put a hand on his left shoulder to stop him, to make him take a break. Every time, Feetman would say that he could keep going, even if he was on the verge of falling over. He hadn’t needed to stop during his first run, he’d insist, he didn’t need to stop now.

So when Feetman hesitantly grabbed his arm, Freeman stopped, immediately worried that his counterpart needed him for balance.

“Hey, uh…” Feetman looked at him blearily behind bent frames. Freeman was sure all of their glasses were damaged at this point. His own lenses were cracked. “Can we- I hate to ask, but…” He trailed off, seeming to lose his train of thought.

Freeman steadied Gordon with one hand, then quickly signed, “Do you need to stop?”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah, I think- should probably… yeah. Gordon, uh, hurt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious?” Freemind groaned, clearly in one of his more irritable moods. “We’re never gonna get anywhere like this!”

Deciding to ignore Freemind, Freeman ushered their limbless counterpart to a nearby room. This wasn’t a part of Black Mesa he’d frequented, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the room was for. Peeking inside, it looked like a lab of sorts. The broken bunsen burners were a pretty good indication that this particular lab had worked with chemicals.

The room looked safe enough to hunker down for a few minutes, and he needed to check on Feetman’s arm. Probably wouldn’t hurt to check under Freemind’s eyepatch, too. He was fairly certain no one had been in there aside from a couple of aliens, considering none of the lights were on, and the cabinets that might have contained anything useful were closed.

Downside, there was probably gonna be a lot of chemical spills. Upside, there was probably a medical kit.

Feetman stopped before going in. “Why are the lights out in there?”

Freeman heard Freemind scoff behind him, but he flicked the light switch, and Feetman relaxed considerably. Freemind grew increasingly agitated as Freeman searched the room for a medical kit. “Why the fuck are you babying him? We need to move!”

Freeman pulled the lab’s medkit off the wall, tempted to throw it at Freemind, but restrained himself. “Let me see your eye.”

“Nah,” Freemind said. “I’m all good. Not gonna bitch about a stupid injury like some people.”

“Fuck you, man,” Feetman muttered. He winced as Freeman started pulling off his bandages, and waved off the signed apology.

Freemind snorted. “Yeah, no thanks.” He kicked at a pile of broken glass that had most likely been a beaker at some point. “If he’s gonna be fucking useless or whatever, then the two of us should scope the area. Make sure there’s nothing around.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, exactly, but Feetman immediately froze at the suggestion. “Uh- I don’t…” Freeman raised an eyebrow, but continued to change the bandages on what was left of his arm. He had a feeling that Feetman didn’t want to be by himself for any extended period of time. Couldn’t blame him, really.

“What?” Freemind snapped, “Gonna bitch about being alone, too?” Feetman averted his gaze, which was all the confirmation Freemind needed to know that he was right. “What are you, six? Man up.”

Freeman shot him a glare. “Go by yourself.”

Freemind scowled. “Are you stupid? I’m missing an eye! Can’t see shit coming from my left.”

“Then stay in here and stop complaining,” Freeman signed. Freemind wasn’t sure how he managed such a clipped, irritated tone with his hands, but the mute managed. He might have been something close to impressed if he wasn’t so pissed off.

“Fine,” Freemind spat. “Whatever. Don’t listen to the smartest person on the team.”

Feetman’s face scrunched in thought. “Aren’t we… like, the same person?”

“No. Because I’m better.” Freemind leaned against the wall. “Honestly, you guys are so lucky to have me around. You’d probably both be dead if I wasn’t here.” Freeman had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Something to say?”

Freeman, of course, said nothing. Freemind couldn’t decide if he could take the silence as a win or not. He couldn’t argue with someone that wouldn’t--or couldn’t--talk back, and he couldn’t win an argument they weren’t having. How was he supposed to prove he was better if Freeman wasn’t even giving him the option?

So Freemind, bored and irritated, did the only thing he could think to do: push every button until something happened. “How long are you gonna play nursemaid? I’ve got better things to do than waste away in this hellhole.”

“You’re not the only one who wants to go home, man,” Feetman said. “You’re just the only one complaining about it all the time.”

Freeman suppressed a laugh as he finished wrapping Feetman’s arm. He could see Freemind getting huffy in his peripheral, but paid it no mind. The guy had largely been all bark and no bite during this whole ordeal, although Freeman didn’t doubt the guy had started a few fights in his time. He’d probably start one now if it weren’t for the fact that they needed each other for survival.

Freemind wasn’t all bad (it was pretty damn close to all, though). Freeman had seen the softer side of him, hidden under about a million layers of a complex superiority/inferiority complex. He’d tried toughing it out the first day after he’d lost his left eye, but by the second day he was hovering closer to Freeman and Feetman.

He had called it a strategic advantage. They could see, he could not. If he had one of them on his left, they’d be his lookout, or a sufficient meat-shield. Whichever the situation called for.

Neither of them missed the way he’d occasionally reach out to tap an arm. Or the way he’d intentionally bump a shoulder and then angrily insist that they had been in the way. They didn’t say anything about it, though. Freemind would only be an even bigger pain in the ass if they pointed it out.

Freeman was less pissed that Freemind was protecting his dignity, and more pissed that he wasn’t offering Feetman the same courtesy of not mentioning his weakness. Then again, Freemind was probably too insecure to admit he cared.

“Well, at least I’m not scared of the fucking dark,” Freemind said triumphantly. “I’ve seen you clingin’ to Freeman over there whenever the lights get dim.”

Feetman rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah. Like you haven’t been clinging to both of us the past couple of days.”

Freemind’s face reddened. In embarrassment or anger, Freeman couldn’t be sure. “Are you calling me a coward?”

“No, but…” Feetman chuckled under his breath, quietly singing, “You are a pirate.”

“Bold words coming from the cripple of the group,” Freemind seethed. “Are we ready to go or not? I’m tired of waiting around for you fucking idiots.”

Freeman snapped the medkit closed and signed, “Then go.” Freemind glared, but didn’t move. A testament to how much he actually relied on their presence.

It was a liability. One that Freemind hated himself for having. Being dependent on people wasn’t exactly his style. Yet here he was, unable to leave this stupid room because he couldn’t leave without these two idiots. Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to.

After a few more minutes of Freeman fussing over Feetman’s missing arm, Feetman claimed that he was ready to go. Freemind thought it was about fucking time, but Freeman didn’t seem so sure.

Freemind couldn’t figure out why Freeman was being such a mother hen about all this. Usually it was Feetman doing that, which made sense, considering they guy had a kid. Freemind thought he’d be glad to have Feetman off his back about his eye and everything else, but Freeman was almost worse. At least Feetman listened somewhat, even if it was just to bicker with him. Freeman would just tell him to shut up.

He ducked out of the room while Freeman and Feetman continued a mostly one-way conversation. Ironically enough, it was Freeman doing most of the talking. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We can stay a few more minutes, if you need to.”

“I said I’m fine, man,” Feetman said. “Or- well… as ‘fine’ as I’m gonna get.” He glanced out to the hallway. “Think his eye is okay?”

Freeman shrugged. “He’ll start complaining when he wants someone to look at it.”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah… alright. Guess we better get moving before he-”

“Will you two hurry the fuck up!” Freemind shouted from the hallway. “You morons are slower than my dead grandmother!”

A cheerful smile overtook Feetman’s face, taking Freeman by surprise. “Gordon,” he said happily, “I crave violence!”

The moment was gone before Freeman could question it. He’d learned to stop asking about Feetman’s little outbursts. They were his friends, supposedly. Something about his first run? Freeman didn’t know. And there was no telling what might trigger it, so Freeman mostly relied on context.

Like now, for instance. Even if the smile was cheerful, the words suggested Feetman was about two seconds from strangling Freemind with his remaining hand. So Freeman decided it’d probably be best to keep the two separate. At least until they both calmed down a little.

Freemind noticed Freeman’s efforts to keep them separated. He decided against pushing any more buttons, since Feetman seemed capable of talking back, despite his injury. And, honestly, how dare he talk back to a god like Freemind?

Really, he didn’t understand why Feetman was getting so worked up about everything damn thing. Freemind himself hated being a liability, so why was Feetman so insistent on being one all the fucking time? It was infuriating. Feetman should be just as on guard as he was, not overreacting about a dark room. They didn’t have time for him to be scared of every damn thing.

None of them liked the dark. So why was Feetman being such a bitch about it?

Freeman suddenly waved a hand to get his attention. “Storage area.”

Freemind grinned. “Nice! Might find some guns in there.”

“Or supplies,” Feetman added.

“Whatever,” Freemind dismissed, already shoving past him to take a look around the storage room.

Unfortunately, it looked pretty ransacked already, but the three men spread out to search through the splintered crates. Well, Freemind and Freeman did anyway. Feetman just seemed to be smashing them, for some reason. He stopped after a couple of minutes and frowned. “Why am I smashing crates?”

Freemind’s face twisted in confusion. This guy might actually be losing it. “Are you brain dead or something?” Feetman blinked at him. “Know what? Fuck it. Never mind.” Freeman was better at dealing with whatever that issue was. Apparently, Feetman’s… ‘friends’... really liked smashing crates.

The dude was seriously fucked up. Not just his arm, either.

He wasn’t finding anything useful, and was about to see if Freeman had found anything, when the lights suddenly flickered. “What the-” ‘fuck��� didn’t get a chance to leave his mouth before the room went completely dark.

For a moment, he thought he’d lost his other eye. A spike of panic tore through him at the thought of being totally blind during an alien invasion, but then remembered that he’d seen the lights flicker. It was just a power outage. His eye was fine.

“Um… guys?” Feetman called out. “Where- you guys still in here?”

Freemind started to answer back, ‘Yes, dumbass, of course we’re still here,’ but he stopped himself. Feetman needed to stop being a bitch about the dark, and here was the perfect opportunity for some exposure therapy. And if Freemind didn’t say anything, then Feetman would have to get over his thing about being alone, too.

It was two birds with one stone. If Feetman could handle being alone, in the dark, until the backup generator for this area kicked on, then everything else would be a cakewalk by comparison. Without Feetman bitching all the time, they could get out faster.

Genius plan. Foolproof. God, he was so fucking smart. And the best part was, Freeman couldn’t even ruin it. The guy didn’t talk, and his sign language was useless in the dark.

“Freeman?” Feetman tried again. “Did- did you guys leave?” Perfect. Feetman thought he was alone. Now all he had to do was stay calm and- “This isn’t funny, guys!”

Freemind raised an eyebrow, kind of a useless gesture in the dark, but it felt necessary. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be productive. It was a solution to a problem. Freemind was fixing the problem. All Feetman had to do was stay calm. How difficult could it be?

He bit back a curse as he heard footsteps to his left. Freeman was trying to find Feetman! That would ruin this whole thing! Did Freeman not understand what he was trying to do here? No, of course he didn’t. Why would he? He was an idiot, just like everyone else.

“Who is that?” Feetman asked in a wavering voice. “What are you doing?!” The footsteps stopped. Freemind smiled, glad that his plan was back on track, but frowned again when he heard the unmistakable sound of the HEV suit hitting something. The wall? The floor? Did Feetman trip over something? What a goddamn moron.

Feetman had indeed hit the floor, tripping over a demolished crate in his attempt to back away from whoever was moving towards him.

Freemind wasn’t answering him. He couldn’t see Freeman. Did something happen to them? Were they okay? Was this another ambush? Did the other two set this up? They couldn’t have. Could they? Would they? He’d been betrayed by people he trusted before...

The darkness closed in on him more and more with every terrified thought that ran through his head. His arm throbbed in time with his heartbeat, which was entirely too fast and he couldn’t make it stop. He wanted to call out again, for Freeman or Freemind or anyone, but his throat closed up with panic before he could. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was dying. Maybe he was dying.

Freeman heard Feetman’s choked off gasp, and started moving again. He knew the approaching footsteps were going to freak Feetman out, but he needed to make sure his counterpart wasn’t injured. His eyes were starting to adjust a bit, letting him make out the barest outline of the boxes closest to him so he could move around them, but finding Feetman was an entirely different challenge.

Finally, he could see the vague shape of Feetman, on his knees and curled in on himself. He hoped the lights came back on soon. Because once he helped Feetman, he had a universal sign for Freemind that relied heavily on his middle finger. Was this his idea of a joke?

Feetman was hyperventilating, mumbling incoherently as Freeman slowly knelt down next to him. He tapped the floor lightly in hopes that Feetman would understand that this was a friend. Not an alien or a soldier, not a threat. But Feetman didn’t seem to register it, if anything, he only seemed to panic more.

After a few seconds of Freeman trying desperately to come up with a solution, the fluorescent lights whirred back to life. Freemind was standing on the other side of the room, looking almost annoyed at the situation. Then he saw Feetman collapsed on the ground, and his expression softened into something resembling concern.

“Whoa, the fuck?” He made his way over to his two alternates, wondering where the hell his plan went wrong. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

Freeman sliced a hand across his throat, the unofficial sign for ‘cut that shit out’, then signed, “Help him.”

Freemind suddenly felt very out of his element. How the fuck was he supposed to help? “Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat nervously.

Nervously? Since when did he get nervous?

Maybe since he’d unintentionally plunged someone into a panic attack.

Shut up, he scolded himself. He was Gordon ‘Freemind’ Freeman. He didn’t make mistakes. He just… miscalculated. A little. Not enough to count as a failure.

“Listen, just- just calm down, it’s… the lights are back on, okay? You can stop freaking out.” There. Facts. Feetman hated the dark, and now there was no more dark.

“Shut up,” Feetman said in a strangled voice. “Sh-shut the fuck up.”

Hm. Okay. That was bad, Freemind was pretty sure. “Okay, well, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do here, so I’m just gonna keep talking.” Feetman shook his head. “Yeah, I am. Because you’re so stuck in your own stupid brain that-” Freeman nudged him. “What?”

“Just talk,” Freeman signed angrily. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Freemind huffed. “Listen, I didn’t… I didn’t know the dark was gonna fuck with you that bad. I thought you’d, like, get over it. Which you didn’t. And that’s bullshit, but whatever. Next time I won’t do that.”

Feetman tensed. “Next time?” He asked frantically, “What- there’s gonna be a next time? I can’t-”

“What? No!” Freemind exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant, you- fuck.” He looked to Freeman for help. “Any other great ideas?”

Freeman didn’t know. On reflex, he reached out to put a hand on Feetman’s arm. Of the three of them, Feetman was probably the most touch-oriented. He knew his mistake as soon as his hand grazed the HEV suit, Feetman immediately recoiling, eyes wide with fear .

“Get away from me!” Freeman started to pull back, realizing too late that this was the wrong arm to touch in the moment. But before he could apologize, pain exploded across the right side of his face. He could see Feetman scrambling backwards through the stars in his eyes. Feetman really packed a punch.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” Freemind yelled. “Why’d you do that, Freeman was trying to help, dumbass!”

He shook his head to get Freemind’s attention. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scared him.” He should have known better. He should have made sure Feetman was okay first. He refused to blame Feetman for lashing out during such a vulnerable moment.

The panicked haze in Freeman’s eyes cleared a bit. “F- fuck, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Freeman shook his head, assuring Feetman that he was fine. “What happened? You… the lights went out and I couldn’t- you weren’t…”

Freeman glanced at Freemind, having more or less the same question. “Why didn’t you say anything when the lights went out?”

Freemind at least had the decency to look… guilty? The expression was so foreign on Freemind’s face that Freeman almost didn’t recognize it. “I was- I had this plan.” He stopped like he expected to be interrupted, then continued when he realized that Freeman and Feetman were still listening, “I thought you were kinda overreacting about the dark and shit. So I was trying to help you, like, get over yourself. And that didn’t, uh… that didn’t work.”

Feetman wheezed. “You- you’re an idiot.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Why the fuck did you think that would work? That’s the stupidest-”

“Shut up.”

“-thing I have ever heard in my-”

“Feetman, so help me god, I will turn these lights back off.”

“-entire fucking life,” Feetman finished. Freemind grumbled, but otherwise held his tongue. Feetman then turned to Freeman and winced. “Jesus, man, your face. I’m real sorry about that.”

Freeman shrugged. “I’ve had worse. It was my fault, anyway.” Feetman didn’t look convinced, biting his lip and holding his right arm tight to his chest. He figured now was probably a better time to ask, “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Feetman said. Then, after a moment, “Maybe… yeah.” He glanced at Freemind. “As long as the resident pirate isn’t gonna be a dick about it.”

Freemind narrowed his eye. “Shut up.” But despite the venom in his voice, he leaned against Feetman’s left side. “Don’t say another word.”

Freeman slung an arm around Feetman, giving him a reassuring squeeze that neither of them could feel, but it was the thought that counted. Feetman almost immediately relaxed into the embrace, quietly muttering a word Freeman didn’t recognize, “Pog.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Freemind asked. “No, actually, I don’t care. I hate it. Don’t ever say that again.”

Feetman laughed again, lightly bickering with Freemind until all three of them were ready to go. There wasn’t much they could salvage in the storage area, unfortunately, but hopefully they’d find something later.

Freemind didn’t make another comment about Feetman’s fear of being alone or in the dark. If you asked him, he’d say that Feetman bitching about the dark was marginally more productive than him being collapsed on the floor. Again, it was all just survival.

And if anyone said that they saw him quietly talking to Feetman at night, distracting him from the dark and the pain in his arm until he fell asleep, that person was a goddamn liar.

[stayextrafrosty]

Probing Questions

Summary: Michael discovers what seems to be a miniature pod as he’s extracting Dallas’ from the lake. It’s far too small to be another alien. At least, not a humanoid one… He asks Alex for help figuring it out and then it hatches. Canon divergent after 3x10.

A/N: I was surprised at the lack of tentacles included in fic for this fandom. So I'm trying to change that.

Warnings: Tentacle sex and referenced mpreg

Read on AO3 / Masterlist

-

It was fucking freezing. And that was coming from someone who was warmer than the average human. Michael tugged his jacket tighter around his shoulders and focused on the center of the lake. Isobel had told him that the pod would call to him. That it wouldn’t be difficult to find. But he had been telepathically dragging this lake for an hour.

He cursed under his breath and let his eyes close again. A gust of wind threw his hair into more disarray that it already was. His mind suddenly hit a wall, though it felt more like a rock that was in his way than a wall. It was smooth and warm and powerful. That had to be Dallas’ Pod.

“You son of a bitch. Why’d you have to hide for so long,” he mumbled. He lifted with his mind, willing it to pop out of the water so he could get out of here before someone noticed him.

Pop was a bit of an understatement. The glowing light of the pod had barely breached the water before it was flying into his hands, warmth permeating off the surface. Except their pods weren’t supposed to fit into their hands. Their pods weren’t the size of a football.

“What the hell?” He questioned, turning the pod over in his hands repeatedly. He squinted at it, trying to see who - or what - was inside.

This wasn’t what he was looking for. He reached out with his mind again, not really focusing on anything due to his discovery. Then another pod floated to the surface. This one obviously meant for a full size alien. He wanted to be frustrated that it was so easy to find after an hour of searching but the discovery he had tucked under his arm was far more intriguing to him.

Michael brought the small pod to his bunker. He knew that he should tell Max and Isobel but he wanted to run his own tests first. It felt like there was life swimming around in the plasma. Why else would it radiate such a warmth?

And that warmth was taunting him. Twisting in his mind and down his spine, wrapping around to his stomach. He had to get whatever this thing was out of the pod.

-

Not even silver allowed him to break the membrane. He tried forcing the bonds apart with his mind and only succeeding in sending himself flying backwards into the wall. He knew better. He was the one who had determined that they were unbreakable by force.

Then he tried setting it on fire. He tried freezing it. He tried talking to it. Nothing.

Michael groaned and the butterflies in his stomach were becoming insistent. What was calling to him like this? He knew it was important but couldn’t place why. It was a need that wrapped up every part of his body. A crawling under his skin.

He really needed to tell someone about this. But Max, Isobel and Dallas already had enough on their plate. He needed someone he could trust. Someone just as curious as he was. Someone who wanted to know everything about him…

Grabbing his phone from the table behind him, he opened his messages. Alex’s name at the top of the conversation still made his heart flutter. The last text was Michael promising to come by for dinner tonight. He tapped out another message.

Hey, I know I promised dinner but I found something interesting.

The reply was almost instant and Michael grinned.

More interesting than food that goes cold before we can even eat it?

He snorted and the heat that he had been successfully ignoring coiled into his groin. Alex had been teasing him more and more and Michael had forgotten just how flirty he could be after all these years. He adjusted himself in his jeans.

Cute. But yes. I need your help. Come by the bunker?

Be there soon.

-

Michael was trying to electrocute the pod when Alex knocked on the lid of the bunker. He reached out with his mind and pushed it open. He waited until Alex was stepping onto the ground before pulling it shut.

Sparks flew as soon as he touched the wires to the surface of the pod. He dropped the wires as he flinched from the electricity hitting his skin instead. He muttered a curse before looking up at the man that had joined him in the small space.

“Michael… what is this?” Alex asked in awe as he shrugged his jacket off. He stepped forward slowly, eyebrows drawing together as he watched the glowing pod. Michael noticed the bag from the Crashdown in his hand.

“That the dinner that might actually get eaten this time?” He walked around the table and took the bag gently from his hand, setting it on another table to the side. Alex reached out and ran his fingers over the pod. It pulsed under his touch.

“Where did you find this?” Michael tried not to laugh at Alex’s fascination with the pod. So much that he wasn’t even answering Michael’s questions.

“Can I at least get a kiss before we dive headfirst into alien shenanigans?” Alex turned to face him, a sweet smile on his lips. Michael leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on his jaw as he pressed their mouths together.

He didn’t want to get carried away but that had always been a challenge when it came to Alex. Alex was the one who deepened the kiss first, touching his tongue to Michael’s lips briefly in a teasing motion. Michael slid his hand back into his hair, pulling on the strands before pressing him back into the counter.

They sighed together as Alex’s hands landed on his hips, pulling him closer. Michael nipped at his lip, tugging it as he pulled away from him. He groaned as he let his head fall to Alex’s shoulder while his arms wrapped around his back in a hug.

“As much as I want to continue, I really do need your help.��� He felt Alex nod before giving him a gentle squeeze and pushing him back.

“So tell me what you know so far,” he said, smiling.

“Well I found it when I went to pull Dallas’s pod out of the lake. I was out there for an hour looking for it. And I think this thing is the reason why. It was somehow getting in the way of the other pod. As soon as I telepathically fished this one out, the other pod became traceable again.”

“And you’ve never seen something like this before?”

“No. But I can only hope that it will somehow help us in our fight against Jones.”

“Well it has to be alive. Why else would it need a pod?” Alex asked, taking the glowing orb in his hands and pulling it closer to them. “Maybe it’s a baby?”

“I may not know much about Alien biology but even that looks a bit too small to be a child.” Alex hummed as he turned the pod slowly, looking for some clue to what was inside.

The warmth that seeped from the membrane seemed to be getting stronger. The crawling under Michael’s skin started again. It twisted around his abs before moving south. His cock twitched in his jeans and he had to step away from Alex. He was too much of a temptation.

“Do you feel that?” Alex asked, voice lowering as his fingers continued to run over the pod.

“Depends,” Michael said.

“It’s like a warmth. It’s the same feeling I get when… when you touch me.” Alex turned his head toward Michael, an obvious blush on his cheeks. Michael swallowed and glanced back at the pod. It continued to ripple under his fingers.

Michael reached out and rested his hand over Alex’s, slipping his fingers in between his. Their joined hands sank through the membrane. Alex gasped at the feeling and flinched when something long and smooth wrapped around their hands and wrists.

They watched in amazement as a blue, almost black snakelike thing wrapped up Michael’s arm. It eventually stopped just above his elbow. They pulled their hands out of the pod slowly, worried they might hurt whatever this animal was.

There was something that could be described as the body at the end. Round and significantly larger in girth than the tentacle that protruded from it. Michael held it in his hands, the warmth from the pod was now coming from this little thing.

“Not to sound weirded out,” Alex started, voice shaking, “But what the fuck.”

“I…” Michael didn’t even know what to say. The small blob seemed to be breathing but he couldn’t feel any of the signs of a heartbeat. It started to quiver as small bumps raised on the surface, glowing blue and pink.

Alex reached out and touched the tentacle carefully. It shuddered at his touch, seeming to harden like a…

It suddenly unwrapped itself from Michael’s arm, slithering up under his t-shirt arm and over his chest, down to his abs. Michael gasped and stumbled back to brace himself against the counter.

“Michael!” Alex jumped forward immediately, grabbing his shirt and lifting up to see just whatthe organism was doing.

Michael could only pant as he felt the tentacle slip down his jeans and underwear just to wrap around his cock, stroking him slowly but with intention. He looked down to see that there were now two tentacles coming from the body in the middle. The hard one clung to his skin, vibrating in… excitement? The other down his pants.

“Hold on, I’ll get it off,” Alex said before reaching for the black mass. Before he had a chance to pull it off, it seemed to jump to wrap around his arm, pulling him in with a surprising amount of strength.

Alex was almost pressed completely against Michael, his arms trapping Michael in a cage against the counter. The other tentacle wiggled its way into his jeans and Michael couldn’t help the way his cock jumped at the sound of Alex gasping. He could only assume it was doing the same to Alex as it had done to him.

His jeans were uncomfortable and he could only think about relieving that pressure. Michael’s hands fumbled with his belt and button before yanking them open and shoving his jeans and underwear down to his thighs. He moaned as the creature worked him to full hardness.

He watched Alex’s face as he tried to fight against his own pleasure. His breath tickled his face as his hands gripped the counter he was propped up against. Without thinking, Michael, grabbed Alex’s buttoned pants and pulled them open.

“Michael… we have… to stop…” he panted out, trying and failing to stop his hips from thrusting forward.

“Trust me,” was Michael’s only response. Alex met his eyes for a moment before nodding. Then he slumped forward against Michael who pushed his pants and underwear down like he did his own.

The small alien between their hips stroked them at the same pace. Alex’s hips tried to thrust faster but the tentacle refused to give him that satisfaction. Michael grabbed his face and crushed their mouths together, tongue pushing past his lips. Alex groaned and pressed himself closer.

He wasn’t sure how long they allowed the little thing to play with them, slowing the pace whenever either of them came close to coming. But then Alex was shoving Michael backward, reaching down to grab his thighs and lift them up, forcing him to lay back on the counter. The alien stayed connected to Michael, releasing Alex and instead focusing completely on him. The other tentacle slid between his legs and over his balls to his ass. The body kept itself stuck to his thigh.

“That little thing really likes you, it seems,” Alex panted out as he yanked Michael’s shoes off then his pants. Michael could only groan in response as the appendage poking at his hole seemed to grow wet.

The tentacle pushed slowly, just breaching the rim of his ass. Michael’s back arched as a warm fluid was shot inside him. His muscles relaxed almost instantly and the tentacle wiggled itself further inside him.

He groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows to look at Alex who watched him with amazement and no small amount of lust. Michael grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward.

“Get up here so I can at least fuck you senseless right along with me,” he nearly growled at him.

Alex whined and pushed himself up on the counter, kneeling between Michael’s legs. He captured Michael’s mouth with wet kisses. Their teeth knocked together as Michael pulled him as close as possible. They moved backward almost subconsciously, knocking over various papers and equipment to make room for their bodies. The shattering of glass didn’t even register.

The movement inside him only picked up in speed but still didn’t go deep enough for his liking. Michael tried rolling his hips for more but it was useless. The little alien had all the control. Alex’s hands dragged roughly over his torso and down to where the tentacle still stroked him, but with far less intent.

Alex ran his finger over the black skin and it shuddered, vibrating around Michael. Michael yelled out as his hips bucked off the counter.

Alex laughed then rolled off to the side, kicking his own shoes off before hurriedly trying to remove his prosthesis and pants. His mind was clouded as he watched Alex, the tentacle teasing and edging him. He pulled himself up enough to roll closer to Alex, tugging his sweater up his torso, forcing him to stop the removal of his pants so he could lift his arms.

Michael kissed and moaned against Alex’s skin as he ran his lips up his spine. Eventually Michael heard a soft thud of clothing and something heavier hitting the floor. He was being shoved back by Alex who pulled at his t-shirt, lifting it over his head.

Then Alex was sucking a bruise into his collarbone, scratching down his chest with blunt nails and pressing his own throbbing cock against the black tentacle still wrapped around him. It vibrated with Alex’s touch again and slowly uncoiled itself from Michael.

Michael pushed Alex back and looked between them to see what the little black alien had planned for them next. The tentacle in his ass had stopped thrusting as it shifted, running over Alex’s thigh and between his legs.

Alex moaned loudly as it moved back and forth between the crease of his ass. His legs shook and Michael pushed him back again, using his telekinesis to stabilize him until he sat on the counter. His legs spread open, resting on top of Michael’s. He watched Alex’s muscles tremble as the tentacle teased around his hole, just as it had done to Michael.

Michael grabbed Alex’s leg and pulled him closer so he could reach his cock without needing to stretch as much. Alex threw his head back and moaned as the tentacle pushed into him. Michael watched as some clear fluid ran out from around his hole. His own cock jumped at the sight. He was so wrapped in up in the way Alex moved and arched to accommodate the tentacle he almost forgot about the one inside himself.

But then it was shoving into him again, deeper and rougher than before, ripping a groan from his throat. He squeezed his hand around Alex’s cock as his own jumped and leaked pre-cum. He pried his eyes open to watch Alex who already stared back at him, lip trapped between his teeth. Michael moaned at the view. He ran his eyes down his chest as it rose and fell with his panting, sweat glistening under the lights. His abs flexed and hips bucked up into Michael’s hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned out. He was going to come and the tentacle seemed to know this as it started thrusting and rubbing against his prostate. The arm that Michael used to support himself was shaking and he knew it wouldn’t hold much longer.

He was squeezing himself around the appendage buried deep in his ass, practically begging it to let him cum.

“Michael, come here,” Alex gasped out. His eyes shot down to where Alex’s legs only opened wider with every thrust from the black tentacle. “I want you on top of me,” he pleaded. He met his eyes again and nearly came right then. Alex was wrecked. High on sex and all he wanted was Michael. So Michael moved quickly, holding back his own orgasm. He pressed Alex down to his back and rubbed their cocks together. Michael kissed him roughly, rocking his hips in time with the thrusting tentacle inside both of them.

Alex grabbed handfuls of his hair, pulling and guiding Michael to the angle he wanted. Michael moaned into his mouth as his hips stuttered in their rhythm. He teetered on the edge of his orgasm. The tentacle wiggling and throbbing inside him felt like it was stretching him open more with every new thrust.

When Alex bit his lip, he fell apart. His body spasmed as the tentacle didn’t let up on its assault. White spurt and leaked form his cock, more than normal. It dripped down over Alex’s cock and hips. Michael’s arms shook as he tried to stop himself from collapsing on top of Alex who just wrapped his arms around him and continued rolling his hips up.

“Alex…” he gasped out as the overstimulation kicked in. Another hot wave of liquid filled his ass as the tentacle slowed it’s pace. His dick started to reharden immediately and he let his head fall against Alex’s chest.

Whatever this little alien was, it eliminated any sort of sexual exhaustion.

Alex’s nails dug into the skin on his back as a loud moan pulled his attention to the man twisting and grinding below him. Michael placed kisses on his chest as he pressed his hips firmly against Alex.

“Talk to me baby,” he encouraged, letting his breath tickle one of his nipples before sucking it into his mouth gently. Alex whined as his back arched into him.

“It’s… so fucking hot. I’m… so close…” he managed to force out between sighs and moans.

Suddenly the appendage in his ass yanked itself out roughly, slipping back between his legs and instead focusing all of its attention on Alex. Or rather, where their cocks rubbed together. It wrapped around them both, the fluid it filled Michael with coating the bumpy surface and spreading it over them, mixing with the cum. Michael groaned and bit down gently on Alex’s nipple. His nails dragged down Michael’s back in response, and Michael could feel the red lines forming on his skin.

“I want… I need…” Alex stuttered out.

“Anything you want baby. Anything.” His labored breathing seemed to freeze for a moment as he staved off his orgasm. Alex’s hands left his back and grabbed his face, pulling him up so there was only a few centimeters between their lips.

“Ride me, cowboy,” he ordered, a smirk breaking out on his face. Michael moaned at the order but couldn’t stop the chuckle from the silly nickname. How was Alex so perfect for him?

The tentacle unwound itself as if it knew what they were saying. It slid over Michael’s thigh as he shifted to straddle Alex’s hips. He pushed himself up, placing his hands on Alex’s chest for stability. Alex’s hands ran down his body to his hips and he gripped them, forcing Michael to grind against him. He cursed as warm fluid leaked from the tentacle over his hole again.

Carrier.

The word slipped into his mind and he almost ignored it. It wasn’t a voice he recognized. In fact, it was hardly a voice at all, more like an implant of the word onto his very being. Like he was being labeled. Michael looked down at the blue-black alien that squirmed and wiggled between them.

“Michael?” Alex questioned, pulling himself up. The tentacle continued its mission as it slowly pushed past Michael’s rim before pulling back out. A shudder ran down his spine from the sweet torture. He wanted to shove Alex back and sink down on him, milking his cock until he was dripping.

“The alien… Spoke to me,” he said slowly. More symbols that looked like alien language seemed to flash across his mind. And he could understand them.

“What did it say?” Alex asked slowly, trying to keep his hips still with the prodding of the alien at his own entrance. It seemed to be getting inpatient, pushing roughly at Michael’s prostate once before returning to its teasing. Michael’s hips jerked forward as he stifled a moan.

“It said I was the ‘carrier,’” he said as he ran his hands over Alex’s shoulders. Alex’s eyebrows drew together. “As in the carrier for a child.”

Michael wanted a kid or two at some point. He knew that. But it wasn’t something he had ever brought up with Alex.

“How could you…” He trailed off. Michael could finish the thought for him.

“Alien biology. Men can carry children… if they need to. It involves implanting an egg. Similar to surrogates here. And that little alien has the egg.” There was more that the alien had told him. But he didn’t want to overwhelm Alex right now. He pressed his hand to his chest to force him back on the counter. He sent his own thoughts back to the alien. They would wait.

“Michael, we can’t bring a child into the world right now,” Alex said, worry written on his face. Michael just leaned down and kissed him.

“We won’t. I told it to wait,” he said as he pulled away. He shifted so his hole lined up with Alex’s still hard cock. “Now I believe you demanded I ride you.”

The tentacle at his entrance moved to fondle his balls as he rubbed himself along Alex’s length. The man below him moaned and let his eyes flutter closed. Michael wanted to take in the stunning view below him forever. Alex’s hands curled into fists before he grabbed for Michael’s forearms, gripping them and holding his hands to his chest.

Another warm spurt of liquid leaked over Alex’s cock as Michael started to slid down him. All the prep from the tentacle made this easy. He sank down faster than he expected and he whimpered as Alex’s cock rubbed against his prostate. Michael felt the tentacle tracing his rim where Alex stretched him and he dug his nails into his chest as he tensed.

“Fuck Michael, if you keep squeezing me like that, this won’t last nearly long enough,” he breathed out. He did his best to relax his muscles but the prodding at his hole became more and more insistent.

Michael ground his hips against him, not wanting to lift himself and lose the feel of Alex stretching him. They both moaned in sync as he continued in a steady rolling of his hips. Alex’s cock throbbed inside of him as Michael worked him back up to the edge of orgasm.

“Come on Michael, I know this isn’t enough for you,” Alex taunted below him. He glared half-heartedly down at him. He was right and the smirk that grew on his face showed that he knew that he was right.

Michael slid one of his hands to his throat and began squeezing. Alex rolled his head back and gripped Michael’s forearm. Then Michael lifted himself almost fully off of his cock so just the tip was inside. The tentacle pushed at his rim again, the slick surface seeming to vibrate against him. He groaned and sank back down onto Alex. His fingers gripped Alex’s throat harder, pulling a low moan from him as his hips bucked up to meet Michael’s.

He repeated the motion again, faster. Alex pulled at his skin, eyes half closed but focused completely on Michael. The tentacle shifted around his hole and Alex suddenly started gasping and grinding wildly. When Michael sank back down he realized why. The tentacle had wrapped itself around Alex’s cock, easily adding another inch to his girth.

And Michael took it all in at once.

The tentacle moved inside him, stroking Alex’s cock while fucking into his prostate. He squeezed himself around them and Alex let out a long moan. He grabbed his hips and yanked him down. There was no warning as his second orgasm rocked through him. Cum covered Alex’s stomach.

His orgasm still moved through him when Alex lifted him up and roughly pulled him down again. Another weak spurt of cum dribbled out of his cock as he whined but still moved his hips anyway. The tentacle seemed to unwind itself from around Alex, instead moving opposite his thrusts.

But it was the times when both Alex and the tentacle were buried inside him that he felt like he was on cloud nine. He wanted more. He wanted Alex and this little alien to ruin him. Michael’s legs shook as he kept lifting his hips and sinking back down. Alex moaned beneath him as he lost control of the rhythm of his hips.

“I’m gunna cum,” he gasped out. The he ground his teeth together and growled, “Fuck me harder damnit!” Realizing he was talking to the alien tentacle, Michael grinned.

“Who me?” He pulled himself off his knees and into a squat so he had more control over his motion. He braced himself against Alex’s chest and bounced. Alex’s cock rubbed against his prostate and the tentacle pushed further inside him. Alex’s eyes rolled back as his fingers trembled on his skin.

“Fill me up, baby. Ruin me,” Michael ordered. He felt the pulsing of the tentacle inside him, warming his insides with it’s own fluid. He cursed and the lights in the bunker flickered. A beaker on another counter shattered.

“Oh, fuck. Michael!” Alex jerked up as their hips came together in a final hard thrust. Alex held Michael in place while he grinded against his ass. Michael felt his cum spilling inside him, leaking out around his hole. The hole that was now lacking in tentacles.

Michael clenched his ass as Alex slipped out of him, cum leaking and dripping. Michael fell back to his knees, panting as he grabbed Alex’s face and kissed him. He rubbed himself along Alex’s cock, loving the small whines Alex made whenever the tip slipped inside him again.

He was still hard. Both of them were. Cum smeared between them as the tentacle wiggled back towards the pod. Michael watched it from the corner of his eye. It was done with them already?

Keep warm… The symbols danced in his head.

Michael refocused on Alex as he continued the rocking of his hips. He didn’t need the tentacle to please him.

Alex’s fingers ran over his shoulders and up his neck until they tangled in his hair. His erratic breathing was slowing as he pulled Michael in for another openmouthed kiss. Tongues danced and tasted like they had just been starved of each other. Michael knew he would never have enough of Alex.

“Did it fuck you hard enough or should I finish the job,” Michael asked him during a break in their kisses.

“You’re the only one that ever fucks me to satisfaction.” He dragged his lips down Michael’s throat and bit gently. He moaned as he shifted from straddling Alex to kneeling between his legs.

“Then I believe I owe you,” he breathed next to his ear. Alex shuddered as Michael pushed his legs open and back.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the shattering glass. Did two cocks filling you make you lose control?” He could picture the look on his face. He pushed himself up and sure enough, Alex had his lip tugged between his teeth and a smirk that made Michael’s cock jump. Michael scoffed and pressed the tip of his cock against Alex’s hole.

“Maybe. But it was mostly just because of you.” Alex’s back arched as he moved his ass closer, letting the head easily move past his rim. “Should we see if you can make me do it again?”

Alex pushed himself up and grabbed the curls at the back of Michael’s head, rolling his hips to take more of him. Michael’s eyes closed as he bit back his moan.

“Whoever comes first gets double stuffed next time.” Michael didn’t hold back the low groan this time. He grinned at Alex.

“So are we trying to not come first?” Michael asked. “Cause let me tell you, it’s not a punishment.” Alex flushed and crushed their lips together briefly. He pulled away and his lips brushed against Michael’s as he spoke.

“Maybe but I don’t think you realize how hot it is to watch.”

Michael jerked his hips forward, burying himself deep inside Alex. He yanked on his curls as he gasped, pulling their foreheads together. Michael pulled out slowly before shoving himself back in. Alex moaned, a chorus of ‘yes’ fumbling from his mouth.

“I know how hot it is to watch you beg for it.”

Michael pushed Alex back down to the counter as he leaned over him. He pulled almost completely out and then pushed back in but only enough to make Alex mewl and arch his back. Alex’s eyes pleaded for more but Michael wanted to hear it.

“What’s that look for?” he taunted.

“The only reason you’re not fucking me senseless is because you don’t want to show how much I drive you crazy,” he threw back. Even breathless, his cocky words made Michael’s cock throb. That mouth was going to be the end of both of them.

“I oughta put you on your hands and knees,” Michael threatened.

“What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that I want to watch your face as you fall apart.” He thrust his hips forward roughly. Alex ran his hands though his own hair, pulling as he gasped. His ass squeezed around Michael as he thrust again. Michael mumbled a curse.

He pulled Alex’s leg up to rest on his shoulder. He turned him partially on his side and lifted his hips just off the counter. He snapped his hips forward, fucking him the way he knew he wanted.

Alex braced his hand flat on the flat surface and the other reached for his own cock. He could barely keep his eyes open as he got lost in the ecstasy of their skin slapping together. His moans spurred Michael on. He turned his head and bit into the skin on his leg and groaned. The lights flickered again.

“Losing it already? Come on Michael, fuck me harder,” Alex said as he squeezed his ass again.

Another glass shattered and Alex just smirked up at him. Michael’s nose switched as he tried not to smile back at him. He pushed his leg back so he was spread wide. The smirk didn’t stay on his face after that.

“Don’t pretend I’m the only one who can’t get enough.” Alex’s mouth dropped open with another long moan.

“You’re right…” he panted out. “You feel so fucking good and I’m already so close.”

“Good boy,” Michael purred as he leaned down, burying himself deep inside him and grinding.

“Michael,” he whined desperately, squeezing his own cock. Michael breathed out a laugh and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his cock.

“That’s cheating,” Michael said, pinning his wrist to the counter. Alex tried and failed to match his thrusts because of the position he was in. But that was fine. Michael only wanted for him to feel everything.

“I’m gunna—” His admission was cut off by another moan as Michael adjusted the angle of his hips. Alex wasn’t the only one on the edge. With the twitching and tensing of the muscles around Michael he was spiraling quick.

Michael shifted Alex so he was back on his back. He took Alex’s other wrist and pinned them both next to his head on the counter. He covered Alex’s mouth with his own, swallowing moans and sighs as his hips stuttered in their pattern.

Alex’s body shook beneath him, arching and grinding up to take his cock deeper. He broke the kiss and their harsh breath mixed. His moans and whines got louder and louder and Michael squeezed his wrists.

“Cum for me baby. Cum so I can fill you up,” he panted against his lips.

“God, fucking yes!” Alex strained against him as trembling lurched through him. Michael felt the warmth of his orgasm hit his skin and he let himself fall forward. He ground his hips into Alex, drawing out his orgasm as Michael found his own release.

He buried his face in Alex’s neck as he yelled out and waves of pleasure washed through him. Alex rocked his own hips, milking his cock. Michael released his grip on his wrists and immediately Alex was wrapping his arms around his shoulders as their movements slowed.

Alex traced mindless patterns on his back with one hand and the other pet his hair. Michael pressed soft kisses to his neck. Alex hummed in appreciation and kissed the side of his head.

“So next time you get to watch me be ruined,” Alex said quietly. Michael snorted a laugh and lifted his head to look at him.

“Nothing scares you away huh? Not even a tentacle alien made for sex.” Alex grinned and ran a finger down his face to his lips.

“Hard to complain when the sex is epic. Though can I request that we do this someplace softer like the couch next time?” Michael let out a full laugh and pressed his head against his chest. He felt the chuckles coming from Alex too.

“I promise. Maybe we’ll even make it to a real bed. But maybe I can figure out exactly what this thing is before then.”

“I’m more than willing to help with any… tests.” Michael shook his head and looked back up to Alex wiggling his eyebrows.

“What am I going to do with you?” he said, leaning forward and kissing Alex again.

[buckysmischief]

running in the dark - 1

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,291

Warning(s): language, angst from the start but ends on a good note

AN: It you haven’t seen x men first class and/ or don’t know who Alex Summers is & need a face for the character, just google Lucas Till. & if anyone wants to be tagged, there’s 23 spots.

to the permanent tags - if you don’t want to be on the list anymore for any reason at all, message me and let me know. ill be making a post about it in a few days (maybe) but just figured id mention it now lol

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your attention wasn’t fully on Alex and he could tell, “Where’s your head at?”

“You,” you lied, “and this game.”

“You hate baseball, Yn. Don’t lie.” Alex Summers was a blonde hair blue eyes masterpiece who was sculpted by the gods, too bad their temper wore off on him.

In the hopes of avoiding a public argument, you thought telling the truth would be the safest bet, “My anxiety is just really high, Wanda and Pietro kinda dropped a bomb on me before I left the house and I haven’t processed it. Remember my old neighbor that I was close to, but we fell out of touch? He’s coming back apparently.” For a moment you thought he had dropped it, but no, he’s been wanting to start a fight since you made him late to the game.

“So you’re telling me that you’re thinking of another guy and the irrelevance of his life to yours in the middle of a date that I paid for?” He always knew how to play the victim, and any other night you would have fallen for it, but not tonight. So you ignored him. “Well I’m gonna go, have fun finding a way home.”

You didn’t have to find one, Wanda was always on standby for situations like this - which was reason number four she didn’t like him. The fact that it happened more than once wasn’t information you wanted to share, but after a long session with your therapist you knew that it wouldn’t do well to keep that information to yourself. If Bucky was here it would have been him, which was something else she wanted to talk about but your time would always run out around that point.

The drive to the house from the stadium was short and quiet, but the moment the smell of the ocean began to fill your senses you felt yourself becoming more grounded. Living at the beach was the one condition you had when Wanda suggested you get a place together, which is why she had four houses picked out before she even asked you.

You just wanted to go sit on the roof and watch the waves crash into the sand, but if Pietro’s car parked in the driveway meant anything it was that the three of you were in for one hell of a night.

“Hey there, doll.” Correction, the four of you. “Long time no see.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Anger was never an emotion you felt for Bucky before he left, but over time it became the only one you could remember.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to see him, not after cutting all communication, but he didn’t expect that. He expected awkward silence, shifty eye contact, even you going off on him. If he knew you were this mad, pretending not to know him mad, he would have gone about this totally different. “Let’s walk the beach, the moon’s just bright enough to light the way.”

“No.” You wanted to run to him and give him a hug that would make up for the eight years of silence, but when you looked at the man who was standing in your living room… he was a stranger. This Bucky’s hair was shorter and he stood taller, you could spot a few tattoos on his arms and another creeping up the side of his neck, he even had facial hair. If so much had changed on the outside, you weren’t ready to find out how much had changed on the inside, not yet. “You’re a stranger, could be a murder for all I know. Or worse, someone who just up and leaves. Already had that happen once tonight, wouldn’t wanna risk it a second time.”

You ignored everyone and walked up to your room and had every intention of going to bed, but the voices coming from downstairs were too distracting - especially since you couldn’t make out what they were saying. It didn’t help that you longed to have your toes in the sand ever since Bucky mentioned that walk. The last thing you were going to do was show your face downstairs though, so your bedroom window was the only way out.

Once you were safely on solid ground and you could taste the salt in the air it was like you could breathe again. In the last six hours your entire world had turned upside down, again. It always seemed like one thing after another but the last six alone have been a complete joke. Sure, lashing out probably wasn’t the best move but what else were you supposed to do? Pretend everything was okay? Not a chance.

“You know, after all these years it’s comforting to know this is still your happy place.” You didn’t hear him coming, but you figured he’d show up eventually.

“So you’re not a stranger.” he started to smile, figuring you were finally over it and ready to talk, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re a stalker.”

“Can you just drop the attitude for five minutes and look at me? You can be mad at me all you want after that. If you can’t give me five minutes then I’ll leave, but when you’re ready I’ll be at Pietro’s.” He stood behind you for a few more minutes, neither of you speaking a word, before deciding to walk away. Your feet were moving before your brain could even register what was happening, and when Bucky turned around with arms wide open because he knew no matter what you’d never let him walk away from you, you ran even faster.

The two of you just sat in silence for a while, but eventually Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, “So, who is Alex?”

“Alex Summers, he was a grade ahead of us.”

“You’re dating that asshole?”

“How surprised are you really?” Truth be told, he wasn’t. Of course he hoped that at some point over the years you would stop dating losers and find someone who treated you right, for many years he hoped that guy would be him, but sadly he knew neither of those things would happen.

“You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, Yn, that’s it.” He meant it. Even if that person was someone else, he meant it. Bucky had tried moving on from you by dating a couple different women but they could never compare to you, especially Natasha. She was so jealous of his friendship with you, even the idea of you, that she had somehow manipulated her way into alienating you from his life. It was something he couldn’t undo, but something he was determined to make right.

“So what about you?” wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, you asked the first thing that came to mind, “How was the Army?”

“It was fine. Got to travel a bit but I mostly stayed in Texas. How have things been here?”

“They’ve been great.” The lie came out easy, it always did. “Do you wanna head back in? I’m starving.”

He pulled you up from your spot in the sand and as he was carrying you back to the house you realized you weren’t mad at him anymore. You had a glimpse of hope that maybe this was the first step in things finally going back to normal since he left.

“So,” he spoke softly, “we’re good?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we were never not good.” acting as if you didn’t treat him as a stranger only hours ago.

“I was hoping you grew out of being a brat.” Everyone knew that would never happen.

“Me? A brat? Sergeant Barnes, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

perm tags (49/50): @sociallyeneptbarnes @hopesbarnes @stuckonjbbarnes @superavengerpotterstar @estillion14 @sleepingspacedragon @geeksareunique @imsoft-barnes @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @murdermornings @distractedgemini @screaming-fridge @readeity @whatinthyworld @my-drowning-in-time @valkyriesryde @buggy-blogs​ @hey-its-grey @pinknerdpanda @brokenthelovely @theannoyingnightmarecollector @death-unbecomes-you @rhymesmenagerie @teasgyu @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @https-bucky @also-fangirlinsweden @goalexis123 @missmeganrachel @sunflowersandcherry @miraclesoflove @matsumama @reann-loves-sebstan @thinkoutsidethebex @thefridgeismybestie @niall2017 @maddope @imagine-all-the-imagines @thummbelina @m3ga1nsp1r3d @romaniansweetheart @thebadassbitchqueen @king-sebb @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bonkyboinkybucky @slaytherinthoughts @kingkassam @anti-the-glitch-bitch @poppunkdork

series tags (2/25): @rebekahdawkins​ @writerwrites​

[klutzyzombie]

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Summary: From a young age, Bakugou Katsuki is told his hearing will continue to fade with use of his explosive quirk. He's given hearing aids to help when he reaches high school but refuses to wear them because what pro hero wears those? It takes some red-headed courage to convince him otherwise.  Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou (KiriBaku) Rating: General Warnings: N/A Words: 6,701 Notes: So this is my first official fic for this fandom and I don't exactly have anyone to proofread this so I sincerely apologize if it's out of character and for the errors! This was written from my own experiences with going deaf and requiring hearing aids and how I felt about it when I was first told. It seemed like something Bakugou may have also felt so you'll have to excuse me projecting~

**Please note that when a character is signing, it will be italicized.

Ao3: [click here!]

He started losing his hearing in grade school. He had been about eight when his family took him to get his ears checked when his grades slipped and he continued to miss things said at home. From there he was bounced from doctor to doctor but the general consensus was the same; his quirk was causing him to go deaf. It made sense really; continued exposure to loud constant boom’s. Like playing a rock concert next to the amp turned up all the way. It was bound to happen the second his quirk manifested and the decision to be a pro hero was made.

They recommended easing down on use of his quirk unless the situation called for it to try and put off the inevitable, but that wasn’t about to happen. Pro heroes in training needed to have master over their own quirks! So they also suggested hearing aids which Katsuki was against. What pro hero wore those tacky things?! For now, his hearing loss was manageable, but if Katsuki was keen on becoming a hero (and he was; even eight year old Katsuki knew this) then the doctors expected his hearing to be practically gone by the time he was in his late teens.

So the Bakugou family learned sign language as a safety net and as he grew, his hearing faded more and more as expected. It became Katsuki’s new normal for things to be a little jumbled and almost like people were talking underwater if they weren’t close enough or if they soft spoken. Maybe that was why as got older he had a tendency to yell constantly, his voice growing a little more gruff with age as well. He’d also picked up on lip reading which was immensely helpful in middle school as he refused to tell a teacher he couldn’t hear them or ask to sit in the front. It wasn’t going to be the future he imagined when he was a kid, but hey, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki! He wasn’t about to let something like hearing loss stop him from becoming the next number one hero! He was nothing but goal driven from a young age, refusing to tell anyone about what he deemed to be his biggest weakness, preferring to make due with his lip reading. When his acceptance into U.A. was announced, his parents made a decision and while he fought tooth and nail – literally – he was fitted for a pair of hearing aids.

U.A. was everything he had hoped it would be as a child (though he could have done without the damn nerd also getting in and sitting right behind him) and much to his utter chagrin, he even made a few friends despite the fact that he’d never refer to them as such. They were more like a few idiots who wouldn't know how to fuck off if their lives depended on it. One such of these idiots and the biggest offender was Kirishima who, from day one, seemed to latch on to Katsuki. It was annoying at first; sure he had ‘friends’ in middle school but they were more afraid of him and only followed him as some sort of leader or popularity magnet. Kirishima just- liked him. For him! There wasn’t any fear and he damn sure wasn’t getting popular by hanging around Katsuki. If anything that was reversed since the stupid idiot seemed to be friends with just about everyone to varying degrees.

And Katsuki wanted to hate it- hate HIM because he didn’t need friends let alone overly enthusiastic idiot friends and with Kirishima deeming him ‘friendly’, the rest of the idiot brigade followed suit. Before Katsuki knew what had happened, Kaminari had wormed his way into his and Kirishima’s study sessions, Ashido had started tugging on his arm in her bubbly excitement at something or another, and Sero had taken too confining in him about whatever trouble had been on his mind. Bakugou Katsuki had actual honest to god friends and it was Kirishima’s fault. It hit him one night after moving into the dorms after he’d been dragged to watch a movie in Kirishima’s room. Like, forcefully dragged and as they sat there, watching as Iron Man and Captain America did some epic team up move on some aliens, he realized he was actually enjoying himself around these idiots.

He wasn’t supposed to be fond of the dunces. He didn’t need anyone and after the hero exam he and Todoroki failed, he tried to go back to how things were. Katsuki didn’t need friends and Kirishima and Kaminari passing while he failed was proof of that. So he separated himself from them. Well, he tried to at least. It wasn’t easy to do since the clingy idiots couldn’t take a hint if he stapled it to their faces. It was exhausting and when he did finally manage it, about a week into his granted alone time he was miserable and angry and ended up back on Kirishima’s bed while he and Kaminari played some game on Kaminari’s Switch.

He couldn’t shake the idiots he unwillingly befriended and he whole heartedly blamed Kirishima for all of it. On a rare weekend home, he was bitching to his mom about the annoyances who kept blowing up his phone with their stupid ‘Bakusquad’ group text. Mitsuki was sitting at the kitchen table with designs and fabrics spread out while Katsuki ranted on. She hadn’t known her comment about him being popular due to his phone’s continued dinging would lead to this, but now it was hard to stop the small smile building as he went on and on about them. Something he pointed out to her with annoyance.

‘Sorry, it’s just nice to know you have actual friends! Finally.’

“I can fuckin’ hear you, hag!” Katsuki snapped.

‘Are you sure? I don’t see your hearing aids in.’

His response to that was to simply flip her off as he marched out of the room. “I’m not going to wear those fuckin’ things.”

“Katsuki!” They had this argument so many times now he could almost recite it word for word. It was what she always said since the moment they picked up the stupid devices. 'Wear them!' 'Are you wearing them?' 'How is training with the hearing aids working out?' Every damn time she called it was the same song and dance and it was getting more and more irritating every time she brought the damn things up! He could picture her pushing away from the table and marching after him so it wasn’t a surprise when her raised voice shouted after him. “We spent good money-“

“’-on those things so the least I could do is wear them’! Get a new speech! I don't fuckin' need them because I can still hear just fine!” There was an uncharacteristic pause after that and he wheeled around to glare at her, to see what she was trying to prove, only to see Mitsuki giving him a pointed look. “What?!”

‘I said if that was true, then you would be able to hear me.’ She signed while speaking. Well, he assumed she was. Her lips were moving and he could hear a faint sound that was in teh same tone as her voice, but couldn't quite make out the words. Katsuki stood there, red eyes narrowed at her which was a look she was mirroring back at him for all of a few seconds before she sighed, expression softening. ‘Katsuki, it’s gotten worse since you started high school. I’ve been practically yelling at you just so you’d hear me since you got home.’ The look on his face must have been horrified because his mom’s melted from fond annoyance to one of almost-pity. She lifted her hands to sign something else but he quickly turned and marched back up to his room to finish getting ready to head back to the dorms. He hated that look on her. Hated that look on anyone and he didn't need her to see that she was right. That his hearing really had gotten worse. It would make sense that it had, he guessed. He went from only training with his quirk a few times a week to preserve his hearing to using it about daily for hours on end.

So then why hadn’t he noticed it?

He guessed the whole ‘it’s a gradual process’ thing could be a factor and if he thought about it, he was having a harder time hearing Aizawa now. Deku’s muttering had also seemed to bother him less as of late and it damn sure wasn’t because the nerd had suddenly stopped the habit he’d had since they were kids. His hearing really had faded drastically in just under a year and that was a reality check.

One he also apparently wasn’t great at hiding because a few days back in school had Kirishima draping an arm across his shoulders in the locker room. He had a habit of doing that no matter what murderous look was on Katsuki's face and today when he went to shoot a glare at the red head - one he knew would just be ignored- he was met with a concerned look on Kirishima's face. “Yo man, you good? You’ve seemed kinda…”

“Extra murder-y.” Kaminari supplied.

Katsuki and Kirishima shot him a look, Katsuki’s much more threatening, but he went on. “Is everything alright? You know you can always talk to me!”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Was his eloquent reply and he knew Kirishima wasn’t convinced, but the red head knew enough about him to know to drop it. The look that now shifted across his face was proof he knew something was up, but he turned back to talking about some new show with Kaminari and Sero to make sure nobody else tried to take the opportunity to ask Katsuki about his oh so chipper mood. Kirishima was good at reading him like that. He seemed to always know what Katsuki meant or needed in the moment. It would be endearing if it wasn’t also equal parts annoying. Sometimes he wished the idiot would remember how damn powerful Katsuki was! But then again, Kirishima was also the perfect foil to him.

He watched as said boy grinned and laughed at something Kaminari had said, head tilting back slightly from the force of it. He was so stupidly friendly and he seemed to really want to be Katsuki’s friend if not his best one. He liked to proclaim as such at least and he guessed it was true to a degree. Kirishima knew him better than anyone else probably did and just how that happened should be concering. Just when had he allowed the idiot to figure him out so well?

Katsuki looked back at his locker with a huff, not about to give Kirishima another reason to ask about his mood again. He looked at his mask and the orange and black wing tips behind it. Looked at the orange X crossing the otherwise all black uniform. Looked at the matching heavy-duty boots and belt that housed mini versions of his quirk. Looked at how the entire ensemble represented everything he wanted to become and how his stupid hearing was likely to take all of that away.

He slammed the locker shut with more force than needed, meeting Kirishima’s gaze as he glanced over at the sound. “Meet me after dinner.” He said simply, walking off before he could see or hear the red head’s reaction.

---

Katsuki was a proud person and that was a fact that was well know. He never needed and never asked for help. He was self-sufficient and refused to lean on others to get to where he wanted to be. So reaching out to Kirishima about this was going to be a challenge. Said teen had been in his room for going on ten minutes, silently watching and waiting, sitting in his deskchair backwards as Katsuki glared daggers at the ground. It would be unnerving to have the talkative bastard so quiet if it wasn’t once again proof how well Kirishimia knew him; knew whatever was on his mind was heavy enough to make him clearly agitated and extra moody. This fact had him glance up so red eyes could meet red and at Kirishima’s concerned but patient face, he sighed and looked away.

“I can barely fuckin’ hear.” He admitted like it was the biggest secret he’d ever be forced to admit because to him, it was.

“Yeah?” Kirishima sounded confused but not in the way he had been anticipating. He was confused like you had just told him Ashido’s favorite color was pink. Like what Katsuki had just said was common knowledge.

This had Katsuki whipping his head back to look at him. “’Yeah’?! The fuck does that mean?!”

Kirishima tilted his head like he did when he could tell Katsuki was upset with him but didn’t know why. “It means yeah? Like, yeah I know?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be confused now. “You know?”

“Dude, if it was supposed to be a secret, your awful at hiding it!” Kirishima laughed and he glared at him for it. This was supposed to be his close kept secret! His weakness nobody, except for maybe Deku, knew! Kirishima seemed to understand his inner turmoil (because of course he would) and gave the teen a small smile, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Well, maybe it just was to me? I dunno, man. I noticed from the quirk assessment we had on the first day.”

“How?!” His voice sounded more confused than annoyed.

Kirishima shrugged and moved his toe against the floor a bit to slightly spin the chair he was sitting on. A nervous habit he’d get when he was the center of attention, Katsuki noted. “You just weren’t responding to anyone. First I thought you were just kinda an asshole and ignoring people, ya know?” He looked back up at him with a grin. “But then when Aizawa-Sensei would repeat something louder and you’d respond and I saw your quirk in action, I guess I just put two-and-two together. I didn’t know it was some big secret though.”

“It’s not!” Katsuki was quick to snap but that wasn’t really true. It clearly was or his heart wouldn’t have dropped when he realized Kirishima had figured it out within hours of meeting him. He huffed to himself, not wanting to snap at Kirishima over his own overlook and looked away again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does anyone else know?”

Kirishima hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “I think all of us kinda know somethings up to varying degrees.” He must have heard the speed at which Katsuki whipped his head around because Kirishima quickly clarified, “I mean those of us in the squad. Kaminari talks louder when he’s around us. Ashido and Sero started too as well after they hung out with us for a while. I suppose it also helps that the four of us are naturally loud anyway, but they definatley talk up and more clear when they're with us.”

Katsuki just looked at him stunned. They had all figured it out? And they hadn’t ever commented on it? Made it a point to make a joke about it? Tease him about it like they endlessly teased him about everything else? They had just started to talk louder for his sake?! Here he thought they were just obnoxious assholes…

Kirishima seemed to notice his lack of anger and response and crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his head on them as he studied Katsuki carefully. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

Katsuki shot him a glare before huffing and looking away again. A nonverbal yes before he sighed, eyes closing. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did the other idiots figure it out, but that they had all apparently silently just decided to not talk about it and simply speak up and clearer so he could hear them all better. He had a plan going into this. He was going to tell Kirishima he was hard of hearing, tell him he’d known it was coming, and how he was supposed to wear hearing aids. He had planned for questions and for almost snapping at Kirishima for giving him a pitying look before quickly covering it up because Kirishima knew he hated pity. He had expected this conversation to go the opposite direction it had gone and now he was at a loss.

“They…" How was he supposed to proceed now?! "I’m supposed to wear hearing aids.” He blurted out quietly, almost hoping Kirishima didn’t hear him.

But of course he did. “So why don’t you?”

“Are you stupid?!” Kirishima frowned. It wasn’t pity on his face but almost like disappointment? That look was somehow worse and Katsuki quickly looked away from him again. “I can’t be number one like that.”

“So you’d rather just not be at your best then?”

Wellp. Anger was back. Least that was familiar over the weird sensation knowing his friends never brought up his hearing had left him with. He jerked back to face Kirishima, on his feet before he even registered he’d moved. Kirishima just looked at him with same look he had on earlier. “What?!”

“You can’t be your best if you aren’t even going to work with something that improves your skills.” Kirishima repeated, apparently oblivious to the absolute inferno of anger his words had lit. “Dude, you can’t stand there and tell me with a straight face you’d be at your absolute best going into situations as you are when you could be going in with your senses heightened. That would be like fighting with one hand tied behind you back all the time! It doesn’t make any sense, man!”

Katsuki stood where he was, keeping Kirishima’s gaze which had narrowed. It wasn’t anger, but the look he got when determination had set in and he wasn’t about to even think about budging on something. Katsuki liked to imagine it was the look he had when he tried to convince their classmates to come to Kamino Ward. What made it worse this go around was that, well, Katsuki knew he was right. “Tch.” He turned and stalked back to his bed before slumping down on it, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged him. “What pro hero do you know wears hearing aids, shitty hair?”

“You?” That answer had Katsuki turn to shoot him a ‘stop bullshitting’ look but Kirishima’s face was so purely earnest the words died on his tongue. “Sure none of the current pros do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be the first! I bet they’ll even make some with little orange X’s on them! That would be so cool!” He gave Katsuki one of those toothy grins that rivaled the sun in brightness and it took all Katsuki had not to smile at him in return.

He scoffed and looked away instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m right about this!” Kirishima stood up and moved to sit beside his feet on the bed. “You always are the first and best at everything. Wouldn't it be super manly to be the representation to little kids you want now?” Katsuki didn’t say anything, afraid speaking might betray how hot his face was starting to feel at Kirishima’s unbridled admiration. “Besides think of all the cool ways you could make them look! I bet you could get them like, orange to match your uniform or-!”

“They’re already orange.” Kirishima turned to look at him and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the awe on the red heads face. He knew what was coming without Kirishima even asking so he sat up to pull a small box from the far corner of his nightstand. He tossed it to Kirishima who caught and opened it, eyes growing wide.

“Dude, these look so cool!”

“No they fuckin’ don’t. Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not, man! Dude, picture this.” He picked one of them up and held it so Katsuki could see before splaying his other fingers out behind it. “You could have them as part of you mask! I bet support could even make some super badass ones that could have another dual factor! Maybe even like Mic’s speaker thing? No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense. But maybe they can block out certain things? Like Shinsou’s quirk! Oh man, you’re an even better match for him now! Just turn them off and you can’t even hear him!” Kirishima went into a rant about all the things he thought the stupid device in his hand could be used for and honestly Katsuki wasn’t hearing any of it but not because of the hearing loss. He just watched the idiot talk, watched his lips move and hands gesture. Watched as he’d occasionally laugh at something he’d thought of and how his smile reached his eyes when he did. How he was so excited just to sit here and come up with dumb ideas and how happy he was that Katsuki was potentially going to be an even better hero.

That thought alone made Katsuki’s heart jump again. Kirishima had really meant it about being an example. He really did think wearing the stupid devices would make him a better hero. Didn’t think it would make him any less of a person or any less of a pro. Kirishima genuinely didn’t think less or pity him for it and it actually seemed like he was furious that Katsuki would risk throwing his own dream of being a hero away just because of two tiny devices that would help him.

It was almost too much for him.

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated. Kirishima stopped talking and looked at him. He was still smiling and Katsuki was willing to bet that he was too if the slight tug at his lips was any indicator. “Fuckin’-! Fine, you rambling moron. I’ll wear the damn things tomorrow.”

The grin he got in return had to rival the brightest light in the galaxy and before he could open his mouth to warn against it, Kirishima tackled him back on the bed. The curses and explosions he sent in return were simply laughed off and otherwise ignored.

---

True to his word, Katsuki stood in front of his mirror with the small devices in his hand. He looked at his reflection without them, took in the way he looked one last time as if he could never go back to this look before sliding them in and turning them on as he remembered the doctor demonstrating. He winced at the resistance he was met with as they flickered to life but looked back at his reflection once they were snugly in and properly adjusted. His hair hid them for the most part, ash blond strands hanging low enough that unless he really looked, he couldn’t see them. Maybe that meant nobody else would since he was actually looking for them. He let out a sigh and turned to grab his bag. He doubted that severely. He swore quietly to himself, ignoring how it actually wasn't as quiet as he thought, and started the trek to class.

The walk out of the dorms and into the school was… different? He could hear things he hadn’t otherwise heard before. He could hear birds chirping in the trees he walked under, bits and pieces of conversations of the people he passed, that one weirdo from 1-B saying something and even the faint smack that followed as that orange haired chick apologized for him. It was almost like he’d been listening to the TV volume only turned up to 2 and now suddenly it was changed to 10. It would be overwhelming if he were anyone else, he guessed. Katsuki imagined this is what those videos of colorblind people wearing those special glasses was like. To experience the world with a sense that was dulled for so long only to be informed that said sense could be much better.

He’d spent so much time glaring at the stupid things and then fiddling with them to get them adjusted that he’d been beaten to class by the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’. Kirishima was sitting on Sero's desk facing the door and when he spotted Katsuki, broke back out into that same grin he did that rivaled the light flickering in from the windows. “Hey, Bakugou!” He raised an arm in greeting, grabbing the attention of the other idiots who all turned to greet him though not as enthusiastically as Kirishima. Not much of a surprise considering the red head was very clearly the only morning person among them.

Katsuki tsk'ed in greeting but Kirishima seemed to be studying him harder than usual and it was pretty clear what he was searching for. So with a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned his head slightly so Kirishima could see the small bit of orange poking out from under his hair and if the smile he was greeted with was bright, this one was blinding. He didn’t say anything much to Katsuki's relief, just looked back at Kaminari despite his grin not fading as Katsuki walked over to his desk and tossed his bag down. Such a stupid little thing and Kirishima was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Class was almost night and day.

He could hear Aizawa’s lazy tone easily, better than he had ever remembered being able to. He didn't need to rely on his handouts and the board to take notes. It was considerably easier to understand Ectoplasm now too and, much to his sheer and utter annoyance, he could hear Deku muttering to himself again. It was annoying, sure, and he almost considered taking the stupid things out to prevent it, but the fact that he actually could stopped him. Even Deku's muttering couldn't quite distract from the almost wonder he had. He could also pick up on Kaminari and Kirishima whispering though he coldn't make out what. (Probably about the math problem Ectoplasm just wrote down.)

The lunchroom was another experience. He hadn’t ever heard it this loud and he muttered to Sero if something special was happening because of the noise before Sero eyed him confused and said it was always this loud. Huh. He knew it should be considering the amount of teenagers cramed into it, but the thought hadn't really ever crossed his mind just how loud it should be. It was almost painful. Their usual table was at least a little quieter since it was in the far back. Katsuki was actually able to hear Kaminari approaching without relying on the slight ting of electricity in the air that usually was his give away. He looked up and watched as he and Kirishima stepped over towards them, caught up in some conversation about something, only stopping when Kirishima moved away and took his usual spot beside Katsuki while Kaminari went to sit in front of him.

“Hey, Bakubro! You look-“

Katsuki winced. “Fuck, can you maybe not talk so damn loud?!” He brought his hands up to his ears, wincing as they gave off feedback which he assumed was due to the mentioned static Kaminari gave off. Maybe he really should speak to support about upgrading them if he was going to start using them more. Wait, was that going to be a thing? He'd told Kirishima he'd wear them today; not from then on. When had he decided this was going to be a permanent thing?

He was lost in his own thoughts about if this so he missed the way Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari looked at each other, then at him, then back to one another. “Uh? He’s talking like he usually does. Which yeah, it’s loud, but it’s his usual volume.” Sero defended, looking all the world like Katsuki had just started sprouting a second head.

Shit.

Katsuki huffed and looked down pointedly at his lunch, taking a bite of rice to further avoid meeting their gaze. “Well tone it the fuck down, dunce-face.”

Kirishima was pointedly quiet while the three others sat in silence for a joyous and nerve wracking moment. He wondered briefly if they would just drop it, but no, he was never that lucky. He heard a gasp, knew it was Ashido, and jerked his gaze back up just as she leaned across the table and reached over to move his hair aside. “You got hearing aids!”

“Fuckin’-! Don’t touch me!” He swatted her hand away but the damage was done.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my gosh, they look so good! That color is going to match your uniform perfectly!”

“Nice, dude! When did you get those?”

“Does this mean you’ll answer when I ask you for help now?”

“I think he was just always ignoring you, Kami.”

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

"Because you ask him for answers on every problem rather than how to solve it?"

Bakugou watched the three teens in front of him suddenly turn on Kaminari, laughing at the other blond’s expense. They hadn’t even flinched at him wearing them! No jokes, no sympathetic looks, nothing! They just took it in stride as if he’d said the weather outside was cool. He looked over at Kirishima to get confirmation that he wasn’t insane and they had really found out what he deemed his weakness. Kirishima met his gaze with a knowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, a silent ‘I-told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ look on his face. Katsuki shot him a glare but turned back to his meal to try and hide the smile he knew would betray any small amount of anger it may have had.

They didn't seem to care. He'd spent so much of his life dreading the day he'd have to wear these stupid things. Dreading the way people would look at or perceive him. He was Bakugou Katsuki and the only way he should be looked at was with admiration or fear; not pity or sympathy, and he whole heartedly believed that was going to be the outcome wearing these would bring. He expected the three idiots in front of him to make a huge ordeal about it, but they just seemed relieved and excited. Just like Kirishima had been.

Maybe having friends wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

---

After that, Katsuki wore them daily. They became second nature from then on and he wanted to be surprised that nobody seemed to even flinch at them, but after seeing his friend’s reactions, he really wasn't. What was supposed to be a weakness was nothing more than another area he could work with. Something Katsuki could train and hone like his quirk. He’d even followed Kirishima’s idea and got a pair that would work with his mask. They got upgraded to protect his remaining hearing from his explosions while enhancing it. His regular ones got an upgrade as well so they’d stop sending him feedback every time Kaminari got within a foot of him which spared Kaminari getting threatened and snapped at so it was a win for him as well. (Both pairs were returned black with an orange X printed on them and Kirishima swore he knew nothing about it.)

Months passed and it was hard to imagine he’d ever put up such a fight to wear the stupid things. They really did make a difference and it was even better knowing nobody felt the need to shout at him. Part of him wondered just how many people did but also didn’t think his pride could risk asking. It was like nothing had changed and while he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was apparent he had worried and put this off for absolutely no reason. His friends rolled with it like nothing had happened and that alone, while he refused to admit it, was the real reason he continued to keep it up after the first day. The idiots seemed to be full of surprises, especially Kirishima.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened one night during the middle of their second year. The pair were up late in Bakugou’s room going over the latest math homework they’d been given. Well, more like Katsuki was going over Kirishima’s since his was already finished. At some point he’d taken his hearing aids out figuring he wouldn’t really need them in the quiet of his room.

He marked one last problem Kirishima needed to look over and handed the paper back. The red head took it then asked ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’

“Yeah sure.”

He pushed himself up and brought an arm back behind his head to stretch it out and then it dawned on him. Kirishima hadn’t spoken. His lips hadn’t moved.

“What?!”

Kirishima startled at his yelling. “I asked-“

“I know what you asked!” Katsuki was pretty sure he must look strange because Kirishima was looking at him with sheer, utter confusion. “It’s- it’s how you asked it!”

The red head blinked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding why Katsuki was suddenly so upset. “What about it?”

“You signed!”

“Yeah?” He held the ‘ea’ sound out as if the pause would help him figure out what had happened. Katsuki could feel his face heating up. “Dude, I’m so confused right now. What’s wrong?”

“You-! You fuckin’ signed to me!”

“Yeah, you covered that part. What about it?”

“When the fuck did you learn it?!”

Kirishima still looked at him baffled. “Dude, I’ve known for years. My mom is hard of hearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t think I’d need to? I sign to you all the time, man!” Now it was Katsuki’s turn to look lost. He looked at the red head for a few minutes as if he’d just told him some world altering view, which he kinda did. “You good, bro?”

“No I’m not ‘good’! When the fuck have you ever signed to me?!” Though as the question left his lips, memories started replaying in his head. One’s of Kirishima casually signing ‘lunch?’ while verbally saying they should head to grab a bite to eat. Memories of Kirishima signing ‘that was awesome!’ after Katsuki did some impressive move in training. Of Kirishima’s fingers moving to ask him to pass his notes back over. Vision after vision of Kirishima slipping it into such casual setting from the first weeks he knew him and wow, okay that did something to his heart.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? When the hell had Kirishima become such a casual part of his life that him speaking in a language hardly anyone knew became second nature? How had he learned so much about Katsuki without him ever knowing the red head was close enough to figure him out? Why did he decide to dedicate so much of his energy and time to be around him?!

“Dude?” He looked over at Kirishima who was now looking at him worried. “I was kinda kidding when I asked if you were good but now I’m actually worried. Are you alright? You look, like, sick."

Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of the red head who was looking even more concerned now. He opened his mouth, probably to once again ask if Katsuki was okay, when Katsuki put his hands on either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular on the outside, just a chaste kiss, but it was an awakening for Katsuki who avoided feelings and distractions. Katsuki who had mentioned romance was the furthest thing on his mind when Ashido asked him back in first year if he was interested in anyone. So yeah, it wasn’t the most romantic of kisses as Katsuki hadn’t exactly kissed anyone aside from one or two people back in middle school and Kirishima hadn’t exactly moved or leaned into it let alone reacted.

Wait, shit. Kirishima hadn’t reacted.

That thought had him pulling back immediately, apology already forming but going unspoken as Kirishima mirrored the gesture of grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be shocked but it faded in seconds, eyes closing on instinct as he moved to rest his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Kirishima in turn gently cupped the side of his face, guiding Katsuki’s head to tilt to the side slightly so he could deepen it. Alright, this one was much better than the pitiful one Katsuki had just done. Kirishima’s lips slid against his like they were meant to be connected and his hands lit Katsuki’s skin on fire. The feeling was like wearing his hearing aids for the first time. Like reawakening a sense that had been muted for years. He didn’t want it to end but after one last slow kiss, Kirishima pulled back, lips parted as he breathed.

Katsuki opened his eyes and blinked down at him, no doubt looking as kiss-drunk as the red head. Kirishima beamed back up at him, cheeks tinted red which Katsuki could feel his own face mimicking. He glanced away as if that would hide it, ignoring the way his heart rate picked up when Kirishima’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, head resting against his chest. He had about a billion things he wanted to say, knew Kirishima had about a billion he probably wanted to ask, but of course the red head knew him well enough to know he needed a minute before he spoke. Kirishima knew him so well. How did he not ever connect these dots and do this sooner?!

“So you like me.”

Alright, maybe not the elegant response he wanted but he earned a laugh from Kirishima. He shrugged and looked up at him so Katsuki could see his lips, smile still present. “What finally gave that away?”

Katsuki could feel his face flush anew. “’Finally’?”

“I haven’t exactly been trying to hide it from you.”

“You never fuckin’ said anything!”

“Again, never thought I’d need to.”

And alright, that was fair if he thought about it. He frowned but it was more at himself than at Kirishima and he ducked his head down to rest against the red head’s shoulder, the red head pulling him close. “You have awful taste.” He muttered to which Kirishima just hummed, lightly resting his head against the side of Katsuki’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer before Kirishima’s stomach made them remember what had started this whole ordeal in the first place. As they stood up and started to head out, Katsuki paused and turned grabbing his hearing aids and sliding them into place, ignoring the way Kirishima’s face lit up at the simple motion. He didn’t comment on it though, only taking Katsuki’s hand for a whole second before dropping it. Katsuki arched a brow, about to ask what was wrong.

‘I really, really like you, Katsuki.’

Katsuki was pretty sure his face was currently redder than the idiot in front of him’s hair and mumbled a quiet “Fuck you” as he lightly punched his shoulder. Kirishima laughed and caught Katsuki’s hand before it fell away. He went to lace their fingers together and tug him down the hall but Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. Kirishima looked back at him, head tilting in the ‘whats-up’ way he did before Katsuki pulled his hand back.

‘You are an idiot, but I like you too.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. It shouldn’t be breath taking the blinding smile such a simple statement was met with. It shouldn’t make his heart skip when he was rewarded with another kiss. None of it should be but here Katsuki was, arms wrapped around this dumb, red headed ray of sunshine who managed to do the impossible.

[zims-left-shoe]

Hey!! Was wondering if I could get some Dib x reader where the reader is a really ‘popular’ likeable kid at skool and Dib has liked them for a while but feels they’re “unattainable”? (Basically every high school romance movie ever lol) thanks!

I had a lot of fun with this one! It ended up being longer than I thought it would haha. 

It was a crisp autumn day, dead leaves crunching under your feet. Although it was dry in the moment, there was this feeling in the air that threatened a downpour. You stood behind your friends when they came to a stop, watching them with your hands stuffed deep in your pockets, feet shifting, the only sign to display your discomfort. Your eyes followed the notebook that was being tossed between your friends, a simple black spiral book, appearance only made special by the strange eye symbol scribbled in paint marker that adorned the front. Wicked cackles escaped your friends as they continued to throw the book around as if it were a football. 

"Give it back!" Ah. And then there was Dib. The strange boy in your class that went on and on about aliens and saving the earth from Zim, your other absurd classmate. He took another jump, swiping his arm out in a desperate attempt to reclaim what was his. His fingers gently grazed the binding, only to be yanked back by his trench coat at the hands of Torque Smacky. This was what qualified as a middle school prank. Admittedly, you had thought it was a bit funny at first. That was until your friends began to run to the edge of campus, spitting hurtful words back at the clearly unathletic Dib, who was wheezing and struggling to keep up with your group. 

"Soulstealers? Chupacabras? You are actually insane." Jessica laughed as she flipped through what seemed to be his personal supernatural journal.

"This is why nobody likes you, Dib. You're a freak." Smacky shoved him hard, his body colliding with the chainlink fence. You winced at the rattling it caused and the look in his eyes as he hunkered down into himself, slouching against the fence. The one thing you could say about him was that he was not one to give up easily, if at all. And yet, he looked defeated, deciding to take the lickings and wait until they lost interest. You couldn't take it anymore. 

You were always well liked by everyone. Everyone adored you and your pleasant attitude, always gravitating towards and revolving around you as if you were their sun. And although you stood behind those that you called your friends, you couldn't just sit there and watch how they treated Dib. He was definitely out there, sure, and maybe you didn't understand everything he said, but there was a line you had to draw. He was never hurting anyone. If he wanted to believe in aliens, who were you to stop him?

"Guys, that's enough. Knock it off." You spoke up for the first time in that encounter, snatching the book from Jessica's hands. Your friends, whom most would label as 'the popular crowd', all stared at you. Not necessarily in anger. More so shock. "Here." You tossed the notebook back to him, lips moving in a silent 'I'm sorry'. His hands fumbled the book, almost dropping it as he too stared at you with disbelief. Why would you help him? Weren't you friends with those who antagonized him?

"Thanks-"

"Shut it. Just feel lucky they stepped in." Smacky retreated a few feet back from him, glaring at him all the while.

"Let's go. It was getting boring anyways." Jessica turned swiftly on her heel, every one of your friends following her. Glancing one more time at Dib, you nodded to him, a movement that was so slight it was barely noticeable. Without another word, you jogged after your friends, catching up with them quickly.

Dib was left standing there, still leaning against the fence, notebook still clutched close to his chest. His mind was now full of questions, which was no different from its usual state. Why would you be nice to him? No one was ever nice to him. Especially not the popular kids. He began to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you weren't as bad as the kids you spent your time with.

-

High school. Sometimes media would try and convince you that it was supposed to be some magical experience that would change your life, that your entire character could be rebuilt from the ground up. If that were completely true, why had everything remained an almost exact carbon copy of the way it's been since your earlier days? Sure, you had changed a little bit. Different music taste, new style, trivial things like that. But, your friends and position on the social ladder? Exactly the same. You had stayed in the popular pool, friends still adoring you, and despite questioning their actions and morals many a time, you adored them as well. If anything, you were more popular than ever.

Dib had also remained the same. Always squabbling with Zim, causing a scene, being made fun of and ostracized daily. He was still the local loser, but at this point he was owning it. He never did have the patience to be someone he was not. That was one thing you admired about him, one thing you could never be. You didn't think anyone you were close to could ever truly be themselves. The only thing that felt different about him was his more 'fuck you' attitude to those who antagonized him. He still wouldn't fight back, but he had developed a tougher skin, almost paying no mind to any insults. He knew what was right in his mind, if no one would believe him, their loss. 

Over the years, you had many classes with Dib. You had grown rather fond of him, at the very least he believed in something that wasn't ridiculously vapid. And, despite coming off as a bit of a nervous dork in some instances, he was surprisingly self-assured, for the most part. You were proud to admit to yourself that you looked forward to see him almost every day. 

Twisting the knob on the classroom door, you let yourself in, eyes resting on the familiar dark-haired nerd, his face taken up by the same large glasses he's had for as long as you could remember. Waving, you approached his table, watching him straighten up almost immediately.

"Morning, Dib. How're you doing?" You always liked to ask him how things were going for him, knowing that he never was given concern very often. No one in your class would ask him how his life was, his sister, at least to you, seemed to not care, and from what you knew, his dad was some prestigious scientist that was always busy. 

"Hey, Y/n. And, um, I'm doing alright! What about you?" His smile was bright, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. You felt a giggle escape you as you witnessed this. Every morning, despite having the exact same routine, he always seemed to be taken aback that you were asking how he was doing, that you were even the tiniest amount of invested in his life. 

"Fine, I guess. What about your ghosts and aliens?" You weren't sure that you believed in all of that crap, but if he took an interest in it and he wasn't harming anyone, who were you to stop him? "Oh, and I want an update on that werewolf you found in your trash." Remembering the story he had told you yesterday, you figured you would ask for a follow up to show your genuine encouragement.

"Oh, that! Uh, well...it turns out it was just some really hairy homeless guy rummaging through our garbage, but...as for aliens, I watched Zim's robot eat a baby. That was equal parts disturbing and intriguing." He shuddered, having flashbacks to whatever went down last night. 

"His dog that he brought to pet day last year?" Thinking back to that day, it was a little strange. All hell broke loose, his dog going absolutely insane. It was a blessing he didn't end up destroying the entire school. Only the east wing. Lady luck was on your side that day, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, GIR. The lip smacking noises really made it horrible." A cringe settled onto his features, and you felt it spreading to yourself as well. As much as you didn't believe that Zim was an alien (he was definitely odd and uncomfortable, that you would admit), you could see his dog consuming a human child.

"Geez. I'm sorry I asked." A chuckle fell from your lips, wishing to move past the disturbing imagery brought on by his response. Luckily for you, your teacher had announced the start of class, sending you back to your seat without having to think of a subject change. 

"Tired of your charity work yet?" Jessica asked as you sat down in your usual seat across from her. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you pulled out your notebook and pencil, choosing to ignore her comment. You had always hated the abysmal way your friends treated Dib. So what if he was a bit weird? You felt bad for him, he had no one to talk to besides Zim, and he ate lunch with his sister every day. "Come on, please don't tell me you actually want to be his friend."

"I never said that...it's just...he seems so lonely." Ever since you could remember, you had been surrounded by friends. It was near impossible to hate you. You had never known what it was like to be all on your own, cursed to be a lone wolf. To you, it seemed that being alone was all Dib had ever experienced.

"He deserves it. He's a freak." Her answers were short and snappy as she tired of the subject. 

"Does he?" Did anyone deserve to be lonely solely for being a little off beat? You were the only one of your friends, hell, even the whole school, who seemed to disagree with her notion. The social outcasts and rejects wouldn't even associate with him. 

"Look, Y/n. I like you, I really do. We're friends. We have been for a long time. But if you become his friend, people are going to start talking." Your gaze fell to the tabletop, tired of this not-quite-argument. "You're too nice. I know you pity him, but think about your standing here. Popularity comes with a price."

"I didn't ask to be popular, okay? And at least if I were his friend, my social circle wouldn't be full of a bunch of dicks and stuck up bitches!" You spat, patience completely snapping. Jessica sat in a stunned silence, her eyes wide. That was the first time you had ever actively stood up to her. After a moment, you realized you were just a tad harsh, although she did deserve it. She was still your friend after all, and in her own twisted way, she was trying to look out for you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We can talk about it later at lunch. Just calm down, alright?" Jessica brushed stray strands of blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her nose deep in her textbook for the first time in months. Sighing deeply, your eyes drifted to Dib's seat. His glance had already been on you, so you had managed to catch his eyes. His shoulders tensed from being caught staring, color creeping up his neck to his face. Before he could turn away, your lips quirked into a slight smile as you waved to him. It took him a second to register, but he returned the wave, a dorky grin plastered on his face. Again, you just couldn't see what was so bad about him.

"Dib, I swear to god, do you ever listen to me when I speak? You break my immersion-"

"You break my face. Yeah, I know." I laid on the couch, watching my sister play whatever VR game she was into at the time. All I did was start to ask her a question, I had barely gotten one syllable out before she cut me off. "It's important, I swear."

"Let me guess, Zim is eating waffles again?" Her voice was irritated, and I'm sure inside that head of hers she was wishing me to be dead. 

"No, actually-"

"He's hiding in his toilet? Ooh, or maybe he's trying to work the toaster." Okay, so maybe I interrupt her for admittedly meaningless things sometimes. Fine, a lot of the times.

"This has nothing to do with Zim!" Now I had her attention. She hesitated for just the slightest second before she resumed playing again.

"Oh? This had better be good, Dib." Her voice was no longer threatening, rather it held curiosity. Although she would never say it to my face, she was intrigued by what I had to say. 

"I need advice." Now, normally Gaz would be the last person on earth I would go to for this kind of thing, but I had already tried my dad, and lesson learned, never seek romantic advice from a man who is married to science. So, I had already exhausted pretty much all of my options. The internet was surprisingly not much help either.

"On what? How to stop bothering your sister?" Her words didn't match her tone at all. Besides, I knew that if she really wanted me out, she would remove me by force. I was suddenly beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, Gaz was very much...how to put this lightly...not romantically inclined. Still, she was my only hope at this point, and really, all I needed was someone to vent to. 

"I was thinking more along the lines of cliché high school romance?" My voice became higher and quieter as the sentence went on, and I was just barely cut off by Gaz's groan. Despite her attitude, she powered off her headset out of her own volition, which meant she was definitely interested in whatever I had to say. I pushed myself to where I was sitting up, Gaz falling back onto the couch next to me. 

"You're joking, right? You're asking me for advice?" I couldn't believe it either.

"Just hear me out?"

Fine. But if it's stupid I'm leaving." I already knew she wouldn't say no, but she still had to pretend it was a chore to listen to me.

"Okay, so you know Y/n, right?"

"The popular kid? They're so out of your league, Dib." She sounded condescending yet not surprised. I figured she had caught me staring at them at lunch multiple times. I had probably been pretty obvious about it. Thinking about that made me cringe, because Y/n most likely knows I stare at them all the time. If they didn't already hate me before, I'm sure they do now, they probably think I'm some sort of creepy stalker. Well, that's not the worst thing I've been called at school, so I'll take it, I guess.

"I know! And I told myself I wasn't going to fall for them, but I did. They actually talk to me though! Every morning in first period, and they wave to me in the halls, and god they have the cutest smile-"

"Dib! Okay! I get it, you're in love or whatever."

"I never said I was in love! It's just a crush. There's a difference." I watched her roll her eyes so hard I thought she might be transported to another dimension. Even I knew deep down I was lying through my teeth. All the little things had made me fall deeper into whatever my infatuation with Y/n was. Every glance, every little quip, every greeting...they all made my heart flutter and I would feel sick to my stomach every time I thought about them. It was a satisfying kind of sick, though. I knew I had been carrying these feelings for a long time. They had always been the first, if not the only, person to stand up for me when the teasing became too much. Of course I was going to fall in love, what else was to be expected?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. But, do you even talk to them? No, you don't."

"So?" She was right. I never went out of my way to approach them. We would share short and simple conversations, but only when they spoke to me first. I was always too scared. They were the only person who could make me nervous and doubt myself anymore. The reasonable part of me told me that if I just went up to them, they would welcome the conversation. But, something was always stopping me. I held them on a pedestal, so much so that I believed making any move at all to be impossible. Y/n for me is unattainable, someone I was never meant to have. They were part of the untouchables, the most popular and worshiped kids in school. I'm just the freakshow who attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. And yet, something was pushing me to just reach for it.

"You're going to shoot your shot, aren't you." Her voice was flat. It wasn't a question. Rather, a statement that we both already knew to be true. 

"Well, you know what they say. If you shoot for the moon, you're bound to at least land among the stars."

"I don't think that applies to this, unless your version of 'among the stars' is being taken out behind the school and beaten until you see stars." Ah, Gaz. Always so encouraging. What would I do without her?

"Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Of course! It's a terrible idea! But, it would be kind of funny to watch..." A smirk crept onto her face, which would have been unnerving if my thoughts weren't already racing to think of how I would even accomplish this. 

"So, you're in?"

"I would never miss a chance to watch someone kick the shit out of you."

-

Without a doubt, you were spaced out. To the point where you barely noticed what had been left behind in your locker, almost crushing it with your multiple textbooks. 

"What the...?" You pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and a note from your locker, even more confused than when you first saw it. For starters, you weren't sure how it had gotten in there in the first place. You were sure it was locked and that no one knew the combo. Unless someone broke into it with brute strength or some advanced skillset. If that wasn't enough to drive you crazy, the note was anonymous. No name, no nothing. It was typed as well, so you couldn't even analyze the handwriting if you wanted to. The contents of the note contained a love confession, and you weren't quite sure where to even begin with suspects. There were many people who had crushes on you, some even within your own friend group. Even still, the note was odd. It sounded like nobody in particular, the wordage making it seem like it could be from anyone and no one at the same time.

"Hey, Y/n. What'cha got there?" Jessica came up behind you, eyeing the flowers with intrigue. The two of you were back to being on good terms. This was how your friendship normally worked, for as long as you could remember anyway. 

"A secret admirer, apparently." You mumbled, handing her the note to read. Clearly, the person had no intention of outing themselves. They were hoping for you to catch on. From the tone in the note, you guessed it had to come from someone who felt they had no place in confessing. That could be anyone, for literally any reason. Maybe they were your best friend, or a social reject. 

"No way! We have to find out who this is."

"I dunno, they seem to be trying really hard to keep their identity a secret."

"But what if it's someone hot?" She poked you in the side, her face pleading with you to let her assist in finding out who left the gift as she passed the note back to you.

"But what if it's Zim?" You doubted it was him. As far as you were concerned, you pretended he didn't exist, and he seemed to hate your guts, which was completely fine by you. The two of you burst out laughing as you put the flowers back in your locker so you could retrieve them after school. "But, maybe I don't want to know."

"Lame." She huffed as you began your walk to class. You folded the note, stuffing it deep in your pocket. You hated that you knew you wouldn't be able to let this go. You felt the need to solve the mystery. Although you had no clue where to even begin, there was one person you hoped it would be from. He was your main suspicion, even though a part of you wondered if that was due to wishing for it to be so.

"Can we please just be lowkey about this? If I decide to pursue this, I want to keep it hushed. Word spreads like wildfire here."

-

Well, you were absolutely right about one thing. Word travels fast in high school, especially if it's drama. Left and right, you had people asking if you had found the unknown Romeo who had broke into your locker. You were disappointed but not surprised. You had expected Jessica to talk. Her lips were about as tightly sealed as a window in summertime. So far, everyone had their own theories. The wildest one you had heard was that it was from one of your teachers. You were immediately disgusted with that, and how desperately you desired to unhear that statement. 

Nevertheless, you had started to feel more confident in your own personal favorite guess. There had been one certain individual who was particularly silent through the whole matter, almost uncharacteristically so. 

Lunch time. The perfect time to gain confirmation of your theory. Tray of borderline unedible garbage in hand, you strode to your usual table, which seated all of the school's finest and most elite in terms of the social ladder. Instead of taking a seat like everyone expected, you continued to walk, not stopping until you reached the very last table in the back, which sat only two: the Membrane kids. Setting your tray down, you took a seat across from Dib, who stared in utter shock and amazement. The sister looked up from her Game Slave, glance so brief you weren't entirely sure if it had even happened. Without a word, she rose from her seat, leaving the lunch room completely, most likely to continue playing in the hallway. Let's face it, no one was going to eat the shit they served anyway. You hoped he would say something, anything that would be incriminating. However, only the usual din of the cafeteria could be heard, the occasional murmur of your table switch slipping through. 

You couldn't handle any more of the surrounding clatter of trays, laughter, and indecipherable words, so you decided to speak. "Hey, Dib. You like mysteries, right?" The poor boy looked helpless, red up to the tips of his ears, eyes refusing to meet yours. 

"Sure..." You could feel his knee bumping the table as he bounced his leg at about a hundred miles per minute. You had him right where you wanted him, and he knew it. You both did. In that moment, you knew it was him. It had to be. He was acting even stranger than usual. Based on his behavior, he knew you had cracked the case. Thinking back, it should have been fairly obvious from the beginning. 

"Well, something strange happened this morning. And since mysteries are kind of your thing, I was wondering if you could help me?" You were trying to coax him into saying the words you needed so desperately to hear. And yet, he was so stubborn.

"Alright, I could, you know, give it a go, I guess." Maybe he wasn't stubborn, maybe this was him playing out his last hope that you still were clueless on who it could be.

"I found something interesting in my locker this morning. Some very pretty flowers and a lovely little note, but unfortunately, it was anonymous. So, I guess I have a secret admirer on my hands." By gauging his reaction, you could tell he wasn't about to relent any time soon. He nodded his head, lips pursed in a tight line.

"Well, that's a tough one." Vague answers, saying as little as possible. You were getting nowhere, and would be getting nowhere. He was really going to make you say it, wasn't he?

"Yes. I have my suspicions. Would you like to hear them?" He didn't respond at all, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He still wouldn't own up to it. You decided to give him one last chance to confess, saying no more and staring directly at him. Hoping the pressure would bring him to spill, you thought your breath would catch in your throat when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you do the math homework last night?" His voice was almost an octave higher than normal, and there was a slight wobble to it. You could only fix him with a glare. Unbelievable. He was trying to get out of this by changing the subject. There was no way in hell you were letting that happen.

"I know it's you, Dib."

"Oh...you do?" His voice was so soft and faint that you had to strain to hear it. His eyes fell to the floor, as if trying to will a wormhole to open beneath his feet to swallow him so he could be anywhere but there in that moment.

What Dib was expecting to happen was for laughter to spill from your lips, followed by you telling him that you could never in a thousand years like someone like him, that his chances were below zero. 

Some pearls of laughter did escape you, but it wasn't malicious. Even Dib, in his most insecure and vulnerable state could see that. Throughout the day, you were itching for this confrontation. You hoped it was him, you wanted it to be him. Not so you could throw it back in his face. This whole ordeal brought you to realize that you had somehow caught feelings for him as well. Your morning conversations about spooks, although mildly concerning at times, made your day, and you appreciated how passionate he was about his interests, even if you didn't completely understand them.

"Who knew you were such a dorky, hopeless romantic?" You didn't think it was possible, but the blush that stained his face darkened at your words that were broken by giggles. 

"So...you liked the flowers? Or were you just saying that?" His eyes finally met your own for the first time in what felt like ages. You could see he was slowly relaxing, although to him it probably felt as if he were still walking on eggshells. 

"Of course. I'll put them in my room when I get home." His lips pulled back into the cutest smile you had ever seen, and you thought your heart had melted on the spot. "Can I see your phone?" You blurted out, embarrassed of yourself. What ever happened to playing it cool?

"Should I be concerned?" A hint of worry crept into his voice, but regardless, he pushed his phone over to you. Taking it, you opened contacts and input your number, adding a small heart next to your name. As you glanced around the lunchroom, eyes had started to become glued to you. You had been sitting there much too long, and many were taking notice. Standing up, you slid the phone back to him, taking your uneaten tray in your hands.

"Call me sometime." Those were the final few words that were spoken as you made your way back to your usual table, leaving him to sit and stare in disbelief. As lunch drew to a close, you would shoot Dib occasional looks, waving happily whenever you caught his eyes. You let yourself dream that this was possibly the beginning of some blossoming high school romance. In your position, you had your pick of virtually anyone at your school. Nevertheless, you wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be your secret admirer. 

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 4

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

The sound of the door opening jolts Bubby back into awareness - and Benrey too. They have another full body flinch, smacking their head against the concrete wall in their scramble.

Dr. Zeki’s heels click on the floor. “Dr. Bubby,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “This is certainly a strange place to find you.”

Benrey’s halfway off his lap already. He moves them gently so he can stand up to his full height, and their hands cling to his pant leg. “I wanted to try something new.”

“You’re attached,” Zeki says. “I should have known better than to let you on this project. It’s not sentient, Bubby. It’s not a fun little pet. Don’t you ever wonder what happened to Dr. Tipton? I’m sure you remember him.”

He, unfortunately, does. Dr. Tipton had been assigned to Bubby long ago, and he’d been an utter nightmare. No sense of boundaries, plus terrible hygiene.

“I recall him, yes.”

“This little subject you’re so fond of nearly killed him. It bit him and injected some kind of venom. We had to develop an entire new antivenom, in less than two hours, just for Dr. Tipton. He’s got permanent nerve damage and lost a few fingers, but he’s alive. I can only hope I’ll be able to say the same for you.”

Bubby glances down at Benrey. They’re clinging even tighter now, claws making small holes in Bubby’s pants.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“Well, in that case.” Her gaze shifts down to Benrey. “You were so interested in its living situation, weren’t you? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we have it stay with you, then.”

“I don’t, actually.” He folds his arms, leveling his gaze right at Zeki, eyes meeting hers. “You know what, I think that’s a fantastic idea.” 

Zeki smirks at him, unbearably smug. “We’ll have to move you to the Biological Research wing, of course. You can’t be in a regular dorm with it. I’m sure your old room is still available, tube and all.”

Bubby bites the inside of his lip. He’s hated a lot of scientists in his years at Black Mesa, but he’s never had the repeated urge to strangle someone until Dr. Zeki. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can find an empty room that can suit my, and the subject’s, needs.”

There’s a buzz from Zeki’s pocket. “Well, you have until I get out of my last meeting. Good luck, Dr. Bubby.” She gives him a final cold glare, turning on her heel and making sure to slam the door behind her.

“Bitch,” Bubby mutters. He hopes Dekkard broke her stuff while he was wrapping it in tinfoil.

There’s a high pitched noise from Benrey, and when Bubby looks down he sees dark bubbles like shadows. He’s careful not to touch them this time, not wanting a repeat of earlier. He crouches back down, eye level with Benrey again.

“Sorry about that,” he says quietly, reaching an arm out and gently placing it on Benrey’s shoulder. “I think I may have fallen asleep as well.”

“I don’t like her,” Benrey mumbles. “She’s scary.”

“I’m not especially fond of her either,” Bubby says. “But, I think this can actually work in our favor.”

“Huh?”

“She tried to scare me with that story, and she thinks she’s punishing me by inviting me to live here with you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Benrey mumbles, hunching their shoulders. “I just - he kept touching me -”

“I’ve had my fair share of encounters with Dr. Tipton. Whatever you did, I’m sure he had it coming.”

“So you - you actually wanna -” Benrey’s eyes are wide and shiny. 

“If you’re alright with it, yes.”

Benrey nods, frantically, leaning their head against Bubby’s shoulder. They can’t quite reach to hug him, so Bubby moves closer, wrapping his arms around them. “I can’t stay for much longer, though. I need to go find us a good room. But I promise I’ll be back, alright?”

Benrey nods, bright yellow bubbles falling from their mouth. Bubby takes a moment to enjoy the wave of joy that comes with them before he forces himself to get up. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he says. 

Benrey’s whole being seems brighter, somehow. Less grey. Their hands tap against the ground. “Bye,” they say, as Bubby shuts the door gently behind him.

He checks Zeki’s office first. Dekkard is nowhere to be seen, but he’s clearly left his mark. Everything - the table, the computer, each individual pencil - has been painstakingly wrapped in tinfoil.

Bubby grins at the sight, taking a moment to knock a few paper weights off the desk.

He checks Dekkard’s desk next. No sign of him there, either, but his slinky is on the desk, so he can’t be too far. 

Sure enough, he’s in the next spot Bubby checks - the break room. He’s standing in front of the vending machine, looking for all the world like a professor stumped by a difficult math question.

“Dekkard!”

He turns and waves. “Oh, hey Bubby. Hey, should I get doritos, or -”

“Nevermind that! I have an important project. I need you to come with me.”

Dekkard raises an eyebrow, turning back to the machine. “Doritos it is.”

Bubby sighs. “Please. Look, this is very time sensitive, I only have until Zeki is done with her last meeting and I’ve already wasted ten minutes looking for you.”

Dekkard reaches into the machine for his bag of chips. “I mean, I’m supposed to be on lunch, but if this is to fuck with her, then I’ll help. Let’s go.”

“I saw your work in her office,” Bubby says as they walk back to Dekkard’s desk. “And I will admit, you did an excellent job.”

Dekkard beams. “Maybe I’m not so underqualified after all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Dekkard slips into his chair. Bubby’s too anxious to sit, instead pacing back and forth as he waits for the computer to boot up. “So, what am I helping you with?”

“Zeki made a proposal. I’m sure she intended it as a threat, but. I need a free room here in Biological Research. Something livable. No tubes or cages or any of that shit.”

Dekkard’s hands pause on the keyboard. He glances back at Bubby, who’s staring over his shoulder, leaning forward to watch. “Are you…moving in here?”

“Yes. Myself and one of the subjects, so make sure it’s big enough for two people.”

Dekkard spins in his chair. “One of the subjects?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” He folds his arms, standing up straight.

“I mean - pretty much every single subject here could kill you, so -”

“I used to be a subject here, if you’ll recall.” 

“Yeah, but - you’re not like them. You’re like, a person.” Dekkard sighs. “Is it the alien?”

“Their name is Benrey.”

“You named it?”

“We are wasting time,” Bubby snarls, stepping forward to grab the mouse from Dekkard’s hand. He holds it up, stretching the wire as far as it can go. 

“Hang on! Look, I’m willing to help, I just -”

“I don’t have time to argue with you! Either help me, or I will do this myself.” 

“Look, Bubby -”

“Dr. Bubby.”

“Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard groans, tipping his head back. “You’re the only tolerable person here, I don’t wanna help you get killed by an alien.”

“Well, luckily for you that’s not what you’re doing. Now are you going to help or not?”

“You’re really set on this, huh?”

It’s a lucky thing Bubby’s control over his pyrokinesis has grown, or Dekkard’s hair would be on fire. “Yes, I’m sure. I - they have them chained up. Like some kind of wild animal. They’re a child, Dekkard. Zeki made the mistake of offering this, and I’m not going to give her the chance to back down.”

Dekkard’s shoulders slump as he spins back to the computer. “I’m not gonna pretend like I understand, but fine. I’ll help.” Bubby takes a step away from the computer to give him a bit of space, not wanting to hover as Dekkard logs into the horribly designed official Black Mesa website. It takes him a minute to pull up a map, but once he does, he waves Bubby back over. “Okay, so. There’s a few empty areas, it looks like. I’m gonna toss these ones immediately -” and here he points to the screen at a cluster of small rooms - “because those are next to whatever the hell it is that screams all night. XEN - uh, Benrey?” He glances up at Bubby who nods approvingly. “Right. Benrey’s over here right now, and I think there’s actually an unused room pretty close? Big one, too.” 

“Just find me something and show me it. I don’t need your entire thought process.”

“Hey, I’m the one helping you.” Dekkard’s quiet after that, though, focusing more on the screen as Bubby paces back and forth, glancing at his pager every few minutes. “Okay, come here, I’ve got a list.”

This is the time-consuming part. Dekkard shows Bubby each of the rooms, laying out the size and shape and what they’re near, and then they spend a few moments debating the pros and cons. Bubby knows they’re on a timer, but his attention is elsewhere, and he does forget to check the time. 

His pager beeps.

“Oh, motherfucker,” he mutters. Zeki’s meeting must have ended, because she’s sent him a message.

Meet me in my office.

“We need to decide right now.”

“Shit, that her?��

“No, it was the president. Yes, it was her!”

Dekkard sighs, scooting his chair closer. “Okay, I know it’s a weird shape, but I think this one’s best. There’s a bathroom nearby and a sink in the room, which is good. Better than the dorms, even. And you can hang up a curtain or something over here and make it like a separate room.”

He’s gesturing at a vaguely L-shaped room close to the offices and break room. Bubby has seen it before. It’s been unused for ages, gathering dust, and will probably be a pain to clean. But Dekkard does have a point, and he’s out of time.

“Fine. Sure. Yes. What’s the room number?”

“B-22.”

“B-22,” Bubby repeats. “B like Bubby. Excellent. Alright, I’m off to go ruin Zeki’s day.”

Dekkard shoots him a grin and a finger gun. “Good working with you.”

“Also, don’t get the doritos. They’re stale.”

Dekkard looks at the bag on his desk. “God damnit. Asshole.”

[takerfoxx]

Now I'm wondering how the Walpurgis Nights girls would react to watching the Rebellion Story. ESPECIALLY Charlotte.

You...really need to stop putting ideas in my head that I can’t stop thinking about.

Fine. Okay. Here’s a rough draft of that very scenario, but mostly unedited and only up through the opening. I’ll hit up the rest when I have the time.

Note that this takes place some time after the story’s wrapped up, so the Hitomi arc is canon.

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

Ch: Okay, this is basically us if we didn’t turn into witches and die, am I getting that right?

Ca: That does seem to be the case.

Op: So worst possible scenario.

G: Oh, I think it’ll be okay. I’m actually really excited about this!

Ok: I hope we get to see our outfits. I’ve always wondered about those.

…

Ok: Who’s narrating?

Ch: Sounds like a really grumpy Homulilly.

H: I don’t sound like that. Do I sound like that?

Ch: A little…

Op: Oooh, ominous!

Ok: “Disappear…” Do they mean turn into witches?

Ca, reading the description: No, apparently this take place in an alternate world where magical girls just…disappear instead of turning into witches.

Everyone: What?

Op: Who let that happen?

Ca: Um, Gretchen, apparently.

G: I did what? How?

Ch: I’m sure it’ll explain things. Eventually.

…

Ok: That sure is a lot of bubbles.

Op: Sounding a little cynical there, Lilly-Billy. Something you want to tell the rest of the class?

H: It’s not me!

Ok: Familiar smile…Oh, I know who she’s talking about!

Op: No matter the world, Homulilly stays loyal!

G: Why can’t she see me though? Am I dead?

H: Seriously, we don’t know if that’s even me.

…

Ch: Nice city.

Ok: I feel like I’m watching a tourism ad.

G: Is that where we lived?

…

Op: Uh, okay. This is new.

Ch: As far as we know.

G: I thought there weren’t any witches in this version.

…

Ch: City’s leaking.

Ok: That’s what happens if you don’t housetrain your skyscrapers.

Op: Looks like cum.

=Homulilly has to cover her mouth and turn away to keep from laughing=

Ca: Ophelia!

Op: Well, it does.

Ok: And now it turned into a ballerina. Okay.

Op: Cumberlina.

Ca: Stop saying cum!

…

Ch: These animators were on drugs.

Ok: Music’s nice, though.

H: “Welcome to cinema”?

…

Ok: Okay, what the hell is this fever dream? What’s with the demon teddy bear?

H: Maybe it’s a witch?

G: There aren’t supposed to be witches though!

Ch: What are we supposed to fight then?

Op: Maybe each other?

G: Oh, I really hope not.

Op: Gang war! Gang war!

Ok: Who is this thing even performing for?

…

Ca: Are those…teddy bear bombs?

Ok: Looks like.

Ca: And are those…are those marshmallows or pillows?

Op: Okay, following a clumsy dance recital with indiscriminate acts of terrorism. You know what? I get it. I’ve been there.

…

Ok: Holy crap, that’s Gretchen!

H: What? Where?

Ok: There! To the left with the cumberlinas!

Ca: Stop! Saying! Cumberlina!

H: Pause it! Pause it!

G: Is that what I looked like? I’m so…

Op: Pink!

Ch: Honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

G: Why am I with the cumberlinas though?

Ca: =indistinct noises of irritation and defeat=

…

Ch: What, is it judging them now?

Op, to the TV: Oh, like you could do better! Asshole…

Ch: You okay?

Op: I’m fine. It just reminded me of someone I know.

Ca: Oh, that’s Gretchen all right!

Ok: So many frills!

H: You’re so cute!

G: It’s not that…WHOA!

Op: Holy shit, Gretch is packing!

Ok: Death from above!

Ch: Maybe you should have cleared out first.

G: Whoops.

…

Ok: Oh my God, it’s me!

Op: Hell yeah!

Ca: Holy shit, it is you!

G: Look at that outfit! It’s so cool!

Ca: There’s even a cape!

Ok: Forget the cape, I’ve got legs!

G: “Madoka.” Still sounds weird to me.

Op: Heh. “Bingo.”

…

Op: AAAAHHHH! THAT’S ME!

Ok: Okay, I was sort of worried, but c’mon. Our outfits look totally badass.

H: Look at that hair.

Op: I know, right?!

Ok: And we’re working together!

Op: Damn right! Tag team that musty bitch!

=high five=

Ca: Where are we, though? We’re in this, right?

Ch: Movie’s just started. I guess we show up later.

…

Ch: Uh…okay.

G: That was a lot of windows.

H: Was this sort of thing…normal?

Ok: Did anyone else see the bleeding goat?

…

=stunned silence=

Ch: Well, this is happening now.

Op: What the hell is going on?

G: Well, we obviously invited the monster teddy bear over for dinner!

Ok: As one does.

H: Is this a musical?

Ok: Oh, that would be so awesome.

…

Op: See? There you are, Candy!

Ca: Wow.

Ok: Oh, my God. That outfit is so hot.

Ch: Where am I, though? Am I even…What hell is that thing?

G: Um, Charlotte? I think that’s you.

Ch: What?!

Op: And the obligatory tit shot…

Ca: Yeah, they really did zoom right in on them, didn’t they?

H: Dead center.

Ch: I’m not really that creepy doll thing, am I?

H: Maybe you’re the teddy bear.

…

Ok: Building’s on fire.

Op: Not my fault.

Ok: It’s at least one-fourth your fault.

G: Is no one going to bring up the skyscrapers that the teddy bear blew up?

Ok: Guess not.

G: But what if there were people in there?

Ok: Yeah, we’re kind of lousy at the whole “save the city” thing, aren’t we?

H: Why haven’t I shown up yet?

Ok: Maybe you’re the teddy bear!

…

Ok: And she’s awake!

G: Oh, we’re following me! Am I the main character?

Ca: It did kind of lead with you.

Ok: Homulilly was narrating, though.

Op: Maybe she’s the wise old mentor that gets killed off in a flashback.

H: =belabored sigh=

Ch: WHY AM I A CREEPY DOLL THING?!

…

Op: Wait, is that a fucking Incubator?

Ok: Well, this just got dark.

G: Why am I petting…Oh! Is that my mom?

Ok: Close!

G: It’s my dad! That’s my dad!

Ok: Oh, wow.

Op: Gretch, you gonna be okay?

G: Tatsuya…

=Homulilly hugs her=

Ok: That is a lot of chairs.

…

Ch: Looks like it runs in the family.

G: What does.

Ch: Being a sweetheart.

G, blushing: Oh, uh, thank you.

Ok: Hey, Candy. Did you ever meet Gretch’s family?

Ca: No, I didn’t. Actually, the only parents I was introduced to were Ophelia’s, and, well…

Op: Say no more.

Ca: Thank you.

…

Ch: And the classic schoolgirl, off to class with toast in her mouth and an alien abomination on her shoulder.

Ok: As one does.

Op: Why is it always toast? They’re not hard to eat. Just eat it with the rest of breakfast!

H: Does anyone else feel a strange, almost irresistible desire to strangle that little white rodent every time it shows up on screen?

Everyone: Yup!

Op: If someone doesn’t shoot that thing at least once before the end of the film, then I’m going to be very disappointed.

…

Ch: I guess this is the opening.

G: I thought the song where we were all feeding the creepy teddy bear until it blew up was the opening.

Ch: I don’t think that was an anything. That was just…there.

Ca: I really like the animation though.

Ok: Song’s pretty.

G: Oh, look! I am the main character!

Op: Oh, look! Look! There we are!

Ok: Yes! Spin that teacup!

H: Oh!

Ok: Hey, there you are!

Op: Looking all depressed and dramatic in that spotlight, but there you are.

H: Am I like…the rival or something?

Ch: Honestly, the rival is always the best character.

…

Ca: I like this part.

Op: Look at us all go! This is pretty adorable.

Ok: Candy, was it actually like that when we were, well, alive?

Ca: Actually, it’s not too far off.

Op: Neat.

H: Oh, that stupid clock. I’m always stuck in a clock!

…

Ok: Heh. Hip bump.

Op: See? Even Gretchen wants the old you to cheer up.

=Gretchen playfully bumps Homulilly with her hip, who smiles=

Ok: I don’t think you’re the rival. More of Gretchen’s mopey girlfriend. You know, to balance out her ray of sunshine vibes!

Ch: So…basically like it is now.

H: I’m not that mopey.

Ok: Well, this is teenage you.

H: True...

…

H: Again with the clocks, and-WHOA!

Ok: What’s up with the wings?

H: Could I fly? Was that something I could do?

Ca: No, the wings are new.

…

Op: Okay, this part rules.

Ok: Dance break! Come on, Homulilly! Join in!

G: What’s with all the close-ups of our hips?

Op: Well, they’re cute!

Ok: Hey, did we really break out into dance whenever Homulilly needed cheering up?

Ca: No, the dancing is new too. And I wouldn’t say that she was really all that mopey, just very…serious-minded and focused. Very mysterious too.

H: I wonder why.

G: Because it’s sexy.

Op: Can’t really argue with that.

…

Ch: Well, there’s some foreshadowing if I’ve ever seen it.

G: Why did I turn into sand?

Ok: It’s probably symbolic for something.

H: And why was it focusing so much on me? Am I the main character? I haven’t even shown up yet!

Ch: At least you got to be in the opening and mostly looked like yourself. Me? I get to be a creepy doll thing!

Op: At least you’re merchandisable.

Ch: Oh, like a bunch of cute girls in showy outfits can’t be merchandised. There’s probably like hundreds of little figurines and…uh…

G: What are you…oh.

Ch: Probably best not to think about it.

Op: Speak for yourself. I find a swimsuit version of us, I’m getting the whole set.

Ch: I will literally break your arms.

Ok: What if they have one of you? But, the doll version?

Ch: Oh, God! I just pictured it, and oh God! No!

Ok: Personally I’m hoping for body pillows.

Op: Oh, those they definitely have. You have to go to some shady places to get the nudy kind though.

Ok: Charlotte’s are probably sold official.

Ch: Stop! I am begging you to stop!

[bunnyramen]

I just would like to give a big Happy Birthday to @kalofi , shes officially an old woman we shall plan accordingly on which nursing home you have to go to.

All jokes aside, it’s a been good year as your friend and uh. I hope you like this! Happy birthday!!💕💕

——-

A figure rose up out of a bed that wasn’t his own.

Josuke didn’t sleep on a bed covered in a queen bed spread, his was Prince and the under sheet was purple.

“What the hell?” That wasn’t his voice either, it was a bit lighter than his own but still had a sort of gruffness to it.

He looked at his hands and noticed they were smaller than his longer piano fingers, and covered a bit more scars than his own.

Josuke looked around the room with eyes that also weren’t his own, well eye since one seemed to be blind.

There were some Bruce Lee, Prince, Queen, Elton John and Selena posters hung around the room.

And despite the gaudy curtain and muscle clock, whoever this was had some taste.

He pulled the covers off of someone and someones feet touched soft carpet, rising out of someone’s bed.

God, was this what it was like to not be 6 feet tall? Small like Koichi?

He touched at the hair framing his face, some of it white and some of it a bright red.

And he ran a tongue over the teeth in his mouth.

They were razor sharp!

“What the fuck?!” A voice screamed and the wall next to him was punched, telling him to shut up.

He didn’t recognize the voice.

Ok, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Speaking of attack, was this the work of a stand?

Where was the bastard? He had to neutralize him before he did some serious damage to Morioh!

But he couldn’t go anywhere in pajamas that weren’t his.

He went over to where presumed the clothes were, the dresser that had a boom box and plenty of boxes of tapes next to it.

He opened the first drawer and grabbed a white t-shirt with green accents.

He looked up on the wall and saw a picture on the wall, one of the kids in it was presumably the body he was inhabiting, judging by the hair and teeth.

Next to him was a angry blonde kid, who kind of looked like he got hit in the face with a hot shovel by his standards.

Maybe it was just the really ugly face he was making.

Luckily they were wearing school outfits, so he was able to figure out what he was supposed to normally wear.

A pair of green pants came onto his body next, a belt then a pair of purple socks.

He looked near the small closet in the room, seeing a pair of red Velcro shoes in front of them.

He figured it was time to brush his teeth and wash his face, and see what the hair situation was like,

He saw a large jar of hair gel sitting on the desk next to the bed and he grabbed it.

“Thank god, I didn’t wanna walk around with this hair all day.” His-er the kids inner voice said.

This was going to be weird since not only was his mom not here but there seemed to be more than one person on this floor.

Was he in a apartment or something?

Or some kind of dorm?

While he was thinking, he located the placement of a face towel and pulled a toothbrush from the boxes and boxes of toothbrushes in the kid’s closet.

He opened the door, peeking out into the hallway and seeing an empty get colorful looking ceiling and flooring.

He closed the door behind himself, thankful that he could be on his own while his mind was racing about where the fuck he was and who the fuck he was.

He went down the hall and got to an elevator.

“Must be some rich kid school or something.” He pushed the button for the second to last floor, figuring that was where the bathroom was.

Hopefully.

——

After asking another person than the original 2 he asked (that seemed to wanna chit chat), he finally located the bathroom.

He got in front of a mirror and finally got to see what the hell was he was working with.

He had to admit, the guy he was pretty handsome, at least he wasn’t stuck in someone ugly.

Like that Guy with that surface stand.

Or that little purple dude that he came across that kept chatting up with the girls in a gross way, he socked him one good with some kind of rock hand on his way here.

And it was weird since Crazy Diamond didn’t show up to punch the fucker for him.

Anyways, he did his hair in his usual pompadour, pretty much a second nature that it he got it done in less than 3 minutes.

While he waited for it to dry, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, having to periodically spit out bristles since they kept coming out when he gave these teeth a full cleaning.

He walked out of the bathroom but held the door open for some kid with a lightning bolt in his head since he was coming while he was trying to walk out.

“Woah! Trying a new look, Kirishima?” A pink girl with black eyes asked and he’d almost mistaken her for some kind of alien stand user but he didn’t sense anything from her.

“Uh haha, yeah! I’ll catch you later, Pink girl.” He laughed awkwardly, patting her on the back before he started to walk away.

He seems to be walking through a dining room, judging by the multiple people eating cereal.

God, he really missed his mom right now. He wondered what the other kid was like towards her. He hoped he got switched with someone nice.

“Your hair looks even more shitty than usual.” A low voice said from the end of the table he was walking past.

He looked to see the kid in the picture, hot shovel face.

“The fuck did you say about my hair?” A fire lit in his gut but it was pure hot red anger from himself , instead of the anger from him and his stand combined.

Bakugo took that as him not hearing what he said, so he said it again.

And that really set in stone was this body was about to do to him.

He punch him directly in the face, knocking over the cereal that was balancing in his spoon and ignored the gasps of the bystanders.

He would’ve went back for another but he was being pulled away by this really tall dorky guy.

He admitted to himself that the guy was pretty handsome.

“Eijirou, what has gotten into you?!” He pulled him away further as the blonde stood up with anger written all over his face.

“No one insults the hair of the man that saved me! No fucking one!” He tried pulling away from the nerdy dude but boy was he strong.

The lighting bold guy seemed to have to hold the other dude back from trying to let off some kind of explosion near him.

“Who saves you?” Mina looked confused.

“Look, My name is Josuke and that hot shovel faced asshole insulted the hair of the person that saved my life!”

“Josuke? Wait hold on, you’re saying your not Kirishima Eijirou.”

“No! I got switched with him by some kind of stand user or something! Now let me go so I can pummel him!”

“A stand?” Mina looked at him weirdly.

“Fuck.” He was hoping this “Kirishima” kid wasn’t doing anything weird with his body or messing up anything.

——

“So this is what it’s like to be tall!” Kirishima ran down the stairs of a house he didn’t at all recognize and was greeted by a rather tall purple haired woman when he reached the kitchen he presumed.

Maybe tallness ran in the family.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He waved at her nervously, not sure of who the woman was or who’s body he was in.

The lady picked up a knife, holding it towards Kirishima threateningly, the boy backing away.

“Who are you and where is my baby?” She said darkly, the knife glinting in the light.

“Huh?”

“Josuke never calls me ma’am. And he never comes down those stairs with his hair undone unless it’s a weekend.” The knife was getting dangerously close to his neck.

“I’m sorry but I’m not your son. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, and I’ve switched bodies with him, I think? I don’t what’s going on or who you are.” Either this Josuke kid could sweat a lot, or his sweat glands got transferred to this body.

“Switched? But where’s my baby?” She wasn’t holding the knife to his neck anymore but she still looked prepared to slice and dice him.

“I think he’s in my body. This could be the work of a quirk user or something, I’m not too sure.”

The lady fainted suddenly, the knife coming out of her hand and clattering to her floor.

“Oh fuck!” He was about to approach her to try and see if she was ok but a new figure bursted in, the door being unlocked by an outside force, probably a key.

“Josuke?” The new comer asked, his eyes shiny as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! She fainted, and I don’t know what’s going on!” God, was everyone the type to fight first and ask questions later here?

The guy came over in a few strides and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the motion alerting this really big pink guy that smelled oddly like strawberries.

“Crazy D, you know who this guy is?” The guy was really strong or something since he just shook him like a limp rag doll.

‘Crazy D’ looked at him with a weird glare, and the guy shook his head, shrugging with a confused “Dora.”

“What is that?” He pointed behind the guy, The Hand having been summoned at the mention of Crazy D.

“You’d know that if you were Josuke, and so since I don’t wanna cave my own boyfriends face in without giving whoever you are a chance, you got five seconds.” The guy robot he summoned looked ready to slice him in half too.

Normally, Kirishima would fight back but since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what he was working with in terms of fighting back, he decided to bitch out just this once.

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I go to U.A, Im from Musustafa, I’m 16 years old, and my quirk is Hardening!” He flinched away when he felt that his explanation wasn’t good enough, but the punch didn’t come.

The guy let go of his collar.

“Alright, a stand user trying to actively kill us wouldn’t give himself away like that but I swear to god if you try anything funny, you’ll be having a talk with the hand.” The boy glared at him, making sure that hand thing was on stand by.

While the guy helped Tomoko onto the couch, Kirishima went to the nearest phone and dialed the number in.

There were a couple rings before he heard an energetic ‘Present Mic speaking!”

“Daddi-o!”

“Eijirou?”

“Yes!”

“Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m in this Josuke kid’s house and I have like no idea where I am!”

“You’re in Morioh.” The guy said from the couch, where he was helping Tomoko wake up.

“This guy said I’m in Morioh!”

“My names Okoyasu.”

“I’m with Okoyasu. Luckily, he let me speak before he tried icing me out.”

“At least we’re know you’re safe! The kid in your body, his name is Josuke and he’s actually a pretty nice kid when he stopped trying kill Bakugou. Something about his hair, it’s actually pretty cool, you should see it-”

There was a struggle over the phone and a brief ‘hey!’ Before he recognized his dad’s tired voice being put on the phone.

“We captured the villain. Luckily it wasn’t what this Josuke kid calls a ‘stand user’ otherwise it’d be up to you and you’re not able to control his stand.”

“Thank goodness. Dad, How soon can I get my body back?”

“Well, actually the quirk only lasts for a few hours and it should end right about now. Brace yourself.”

Kirishima dropped the phone from his hand and blacked out, he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

“Hey, Kirishima!” He felt someone patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

He blinked his eyes, a blurry vision of pink and yellow coming into view.

“If your really Kirishima finish this phrase.” Sero said from above him, he could presume he was probably on the ground right now.

“Precisely.“ Kaminari started, Kirishima’s eyes lighting up.

“Damn, I’m late for school!” He sat up, actually seeing that the arms he was fist pumping were his and the friends he was looking at were his.

“Woah, hold the phone!” He looked up at his forehead and saw something blocking his view. “What is this?” Kirishima grabbed his pocket mirror, because he’s he owned a pocket mirror for just such occasions of keeping his spikes in order.

But it wasn’t spikes.

It was a pompadour.

“Yo Daddi-o, can I borrow your phone?” Kirishima asked Present Mic after his friends helped him off the floor and into a chair.

He called the last number, and it rung for a second before a voice he recognized answered the phone.

“Tomoko speaking?”

“Hello Mrs. Tomoko, I’m the kid your son switched bodies with. Sorry for the uh..trouble.” The redhead coughed.

“No trouble at all, as long as I have my son back in his rightful place and you back in yours. Would you like to talk to him? He says he’d very much like to talk to you.”

Kirishima heard Josuke whine to his mom to stop embarrassing him.

“Hello?”

——-

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, Mockingbird.”

Based on a request I received in my asks for some fluff. I think you guys will like it, or at least I hope you do :) 

He couldn’t  remember much of the last few days. Everything was a blur of motion, pain and dizziness. He couldn't tell if he was staying up or lying down or running in circles or spinning inside an F-90 Darkfire going nine times faster than the speed of sound. It felt like he was constantly pulling almost 9-Gs staying awake was impossible, but at the same time, so was falling asleep.

He felt horrible, sick.

He thought he remembered throwing up a few times, but he could have been wrong.

However, he did remember the aching, a pain that throbbed through his body like he had a horrible flu. His muscles ached, his bones ached, his blood might as well have ached. Everything around him echoed, the lights pulsed in and out. 

He was nauseous and so very, very cold.

The shivering ache in his bones did nothing to help the horrible throbbing of his muscles, especially the muscles in his back.

He thought he heard voices a few times, mingling with the echoes and spinning with the lights over his head. The world began to spin to his left, and he tried controlling the nausea like he would in the cockpit of a jet, but for some reason all his normal tricks weren’t working. His stomach churned.

He fell in and out of consciousness.

His eyes opened and then closed. He was on his side, or at least he thought he was. The nausea wasn’t so bad anymore, but his mouth tasted horrible.

He closed his eyes against the spinning.

He was falling backwards now.

And he was so so tired. His head was resting against something soft, now something hard. More voices echoed.

He tried to make them out, but every time he did he only felt more horrible, more nausea building up on his insides.

“Anything.” The voice faded in and out plunging downward, deepening and stretching out for long minutes forcing him to miss the rest of the conversation. He tried to open his eyes, and was almost immediately blinded. The lights above his head warped and twisted stretching one way and then flattening in the other direction.

Then it doubled and they began to dance back and forth against each other.

“Adam.”

The sound echoed in his head as if it had been yelled into a narrow canyon.

He had trouble remembering what the sounds meant.

His head was throbbing.

More lights.

He flinched away squeezing his eyes shut and immediately fell back in. The nausea overcame him again followed by the dizziness and the vertigo until he couldn’t open his eyes.  He spun back and forth and back and forth his muscles aching, his body throbbing. The shivering got worse , and it wouldn’t have mattered if there were blankets or not. 

He just felt so horrible.

That could have gone on for an eternity as far as he knew. An eternity of spinning, bright lights and echoing voices  interspersed with uneasy moments of sleep characterized by horrific nightmares. Nightmares that contained faceless monsters, strange alien creatures and his own inevitable failure.

And then he fell asleep, finally.

It started off in small bouts of silent restfulness, a deep and soothing darkness that relaxed his body and calmed his mind. When he floated towards the surface, almost awake, he could hear voices, and thought that he could at least understand them.

“How is he today, doc?”

“He’s doing better, sleeping more. The drugs took a real toll on his system. I doubt the admiral was entirely correct about what exactly was in those drugs.”

“He’s lucky to have you. He wouldn’t have survived the overdose otherwise.”

And then he was gone again, sinking back down,

He would have had no way of knowing how long he was out, and when he woke up again, just a little clearer than last time, he heard.

“Why not a medically induced coma, at least then he wouldn’t be in pain.”

“I determined that this was the safer decision in the state he is in. Don’t worry, things are slowly getting easier. He’s sleeping hours at a time now.”

Another voice, “no more vomiting, though that may be just because he’s running on empty.”

He let himself sink away this time, finding that he was getting better at controlling it. He stayed longer this time, curled up in the safety of the darkness where it was warm, and pain free. However, this time he was woken up by a voice.

“Dr. Katie thinks you might be able to hear us. Says you sort of drift in and out.” Though the ache in his body was still there the familiarity of the voice eased his mind, “It was…. An honor to fight with you. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances..” A hand rested on his upper arm, “For a human, you make a pretty good Drev.” 

Something warm touched his hand, or at least he thought it was his hand. When it pulled away his hand was wet.

“Waffles misses you. We haven’t been able to move her without her getting really agitated.” Something soft caressed against his fingers, a soft whimpering pulsing through the air. Soft waves of air to caress his ears. 

He tried to open his eyes, but the dizziness hit him again and, suddenly, he could hardly function. He sunk away again occasionally aware of a furry, warm snout nudging his hand as he slept.

“Hey, Commander…. Adam. yeah anyway, Sunny thinks we should talk to you, so Mav and I are here….er Ramirez.”

“So eloquent.”

“Shut up it's not like he’s expecting a soliloquy, what do you want me to do compose shakespeare.”

“I’d Like to see that.”

“Shut up, anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted/, we are, the crew i mean, are all rooting for you, and we will be here when you’re ready to wake up. Also, please wake up, the spiderlings haven't stopped freaking out since you went under. I can’t exactly tell if they are crying or not but they are making some weird ass noises…. How about you Mav, you got anything to say?”

“Just if you don’t wake up in the next week, I am going to shake you awake and kick your bitch ass for making us wait so long. I am not a patient person.”

“As empathetic as always Mav.”

This time he felt as if he had been asleep for longer, feeling rather than hearing people pass through. He recognizes some return offenders, though some of them were there for a purpose.

“You know, Comm- I mean, Adam. Sometimes I blame you for making me more human. You took away one of the things that made my life easy, and then you gave me empathy. Now I, well having my friends gone hurts. It doesn’t make any logical sense from a proper Vrul standpoint .But you made me into…. Not much of a vrul anymore . You gave me empathy, and friends, and a social life…..” silence, “And I fucking hate it…. But at the same time I don’t. You hear that, I both hate it and don’t hate it at the same time like that is possible. I’m making as much sense as a human .”

More drawn silence.

“Look, I know what you said and how you acted in the suit weren’t you, but I just….. I need….. … I need you to wake up, so I know, so I know that everything is ok between us. The anticipation is killing me more than anything.”

He felt warm inside, and the shivering was dying down. He supposed that was a good thing, and following that moment he thought he might have slept the entire night through, though he could still tell that opening his eyes was going to be a problem. When he awoke, he awoke to a melody, someone signing quietly.

He recognized it, a distant memory from and even more distant childhood.

The song must have been thousands of years old, and for that reason it was….. Sweet.

“Still gets me today that a thousand years ago someone’s mother was singing their baby to sleep with that.”

A soft hand on his.

A gentle touch at the IV in his arm, “Hope you don't mind me singing to myself, or talking. I don’t usually do it when krill is around, he wouldn’t understand. Or maybe he would, but…. It feels weird. I was pretty weird you know, never really figured out why. Guess that’s what I get for wanting to be a librarian when I was little. Became a doctor instead, “ Dr Katie  laughed, “My how things change. Its honestly crazy to me you ended up with the exact job you wanted….. Bet you didn’t think it would be this hard ....” She trailed off, and there was silence for a long time before she began to sing to herself again.

Her voice wove patterns through his dreams

Hush little baby don’t say a word

Moma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

He spun slowly around and around in circles descending downward.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing 

The warmth grew back up around him, enfolding him from all sides like the embracing arms of a lover.

Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

He could have slept for days after that dreaming on and off barely knowing what was real and what was inside his head. The world didn’t spin anymore, and his body only ached slightly. The nausea was simply a general discomfort through his darkness, and he could ignore it easily enough.

“You better wake up soon. Seems like you have been in here long enough.”

Was that Conn? 

Couldn’t be.

“You dirty rat bastard.” Nope that was him alright, “I expect you get out here soon….. It is rather lonely in my head….”

Other hands, other voices, other confessions, some cold some warm, felt through his insides like each person was pouring liquid of different temperatures into his blood, pumping through his chest and heart. 

Eventually, the world stopped spinning completely, the echoes died away, and he was left alone in his own head finally with the ability to think consciously, as conscious as he was between bouts of sleep. The nausea was still there, but it might have been due to hunger more than anything else.

The next time he woke up, things were different. The last time it had been as if he was rising through dark water only to be separated from the surface by a pane of one way glass he couldn’t crack.

This time, the pane of glass was gone, and light and sounds poured in around him.

He first became aware of sound, the quiet muttering of conversation, the beeping of machines, and the clattering of tools. Someone was laughing distantly.

Secondly, he was aware of a weight pressed against his side. It was soft and warm, and as he lay there he felt it move. Something rested on his stomach, just under his chest. Whatever it was let off a long drawn out sigh and a yawn.

Lastly , there was light.

For a second he thought he had gone partially blind, but realized his eyes were still closed.

He stayed like that for a little bit, adjusting before.

Flexing his fingers.

And immediately noticed the absence of the steel eye armor.

The relief was incredible. 

His hands were stiff, and the joints ached a little, but slowly he was able to open his hand.

Moving was harder, and it brought back the muted ache from earlier.

His fingertips brushed over sheets as his hand moved up brushing fur, and the warm muscled body underneath.

He stroked a hand through Waffle’s fur.

The lifted her head in surprise, then, with a whimper scooted forward resting her head on his chest nosing him with her snout.

He lifted his hand to stroke her ears.

She licked once as his face catching him in the jaw with her warm slimy tongue.

There was a creaking noise just to his side, “Hey, Girl, everything alright?”

The dog whimpered.

Whoever it was stood.

“Krill.” 

He tried opening his eyes flooded with light before blinking. The dog whimpered again.

He turned his head from the lights trying to blink away the haze.

“Adam. Can you hear us?”

He blinked a few more times squinting against the light until the world around him slowly resolved, light fading backwards.

First, he saw the ceiling, and the overhead lights, curtain rods with the curtains pulled open, an IV bag, medical machines. Looking down he saw his own feet under blankets, and finally the warm worried eyes of his dog. The look she gave him was one of such sincere concern  that, for a moment, he was worried he might be dying. Upon making eye contact she scooted even further forward resting one paw on his chest  snuffling at his face and licking him across the cheek.

“Easy girl.” someone said 

He turned his head a little further brows still furrowed falling on a familiar spidery form floating to the side.

“Adam?” Krill said again.

It took him a few seconds to understand turning his head to the other side where a tall blue figure was standing her gold eyes struck with worry.

He turned his head back to Krill.

“We’re good.”

The dog continued to nuzzle at him rubbing her head against his shoulder trying to get his attention. Overhead the two aliens relaxed visibly, “What was that?”’ Krill asked leaning forward to look him over.

“You wanted to know….. If we were still good…..” Trying to talk past his dry nasty tasting mouth was unpleasant. He smacked his lips, “And I wanted to say that we are.”

The relief broke even further.

Krill was speechless.

Sunny laughed in relief, or at least the equivalent for a Drev.

Dr. Katie poked her head around from the right side curtain, “You’re awake!”

He had both hands up now patting the dog’s ears as she frantically nuzzled forward tail slapping against the bed railing. His right hand was taped up, the tube of an IV sticking into his hand.

He was still very fuzzy and tired.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better than…. I was…. Before.” A light flicked from one eye to the other, and he squinted, “Hey…” Even his mechanical eye didn’t seem pleased.

“Just making sure your brain is in tact. 

“It never was.” He mumbled.

The dog had  her head resting on his shoulder now, “Surprised you…. Let her stay.”

“I was worried she might bite me.”

Sunny patted the dog’s back.

“Hey, Krill there are a few people at the door come to check in on the Commander.”

“Tell them to stay out. The commander needs his rest.”

Adam raised a hand, “Wait… no… it's ok.”

“You can barely string two words together.” Krill scolded

“Just five minutes and then....” His voice was slightly slurred, “And then I’ll do…. Whatever.”

“Fine, five minutes.”

He closed his eyes briefly listening as feet shuffled across the floor, and soft voices murmured up around him.

“Commander.”

He opened his eyes to see a huddle of marines standing at the end of his bed. Ramirez, Mav, CJ and a few others.

“You alright?”

“Terrific.”

“They must have you on some good drugs.”

“Actually no…. Due to the nature of his stay, he’s actually sober right now.”

The marines laughed, only to be silenced by Krill, “If that’s the case you definitely need sleep.” Ramirez patted his foot, “Don’t let us get in your way, rest, relax, do what you need to do.”  They were ushered out as quickly as they had come, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The dog’s breath was warm against his throat from where her head rested on his shoulder.

Off in the corner he watched a set of white ribbons gently waving in the subtle air currents of the ship.”

“Welcome back,” Said a voice, unbidden inside his head.

“Bitch.” he thought.

“Dumbass.” Came the reply 

He leaned his head back the pillow cool and soothing against his aching neck. He reached up a hand absently letting it hang in the air until something took it. Sunny’s skin was warm compared to his own.

His head lolled sideways.

And he was gone.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Stars Die (But We Don’t)

What is up everybody?! I’ve brought you more anxceit! This is the next story in my Space and Everything In It Series, which if you missed the first installment of, you can find it [here]!

Summary: Janus and Virgil have a talk about Scars, Death, and Names. Space is still a really big place.

Word Count: 7178

TW: talk of scars, survivors guilt,  death

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“What am I supposed to say?” Janus said indignantly. Virgil hadn’t thought it was possible to miss the sound of something so annoying, but here he was, somehow grateful to hear the way that Janus’s tone conveyed absolutely no remorse for his actions. Condescending, patronizing, and snooty.

Apparently, very little about him had changed at all in the three years he had been declared dead, funneled through space, and ended up a very loyal member of Remus Prince’s Sucky Space Crew Extravaganza. The warmth in Virgil’s chest seemed spread, until he couldn’t quite place if it was an emotion or just part of being close to Janus again, like the way that Roman’s tail wagged the more Erefrens he was around.

“You could start with “Hey Patton, sorry for almost shoving a knife in your eye”.” Virgil suggested as he pressed the alien aloe to the cuts on Janus’s face as lightly as he could. Janus still hissed out a curse-- one of the many he seemed to know. Virgil thought that maybe that was his specialty because he had lost count of the scraps of languages that Janus had spouted.

“Sorry, Sorry,” Virgil muttered, “This is the last one.”

“That shit burns,” Janus whined because he was still the untouchable golden boy who had never even skinned his knees before he met Virgil.

“Sorry,” Virgil said because he was still the stupid kid who hated seeing others in pain. 

Janus pulled back slightly, just an inch or two out of Virgil’s reach. His eyes danced with a mischievous light, as he fluttered his eyelashes ever so innocently. “Kiss it better for me, Vee?”

“Kissing?” Virgil repeated, pretending like he wasn’t already leaning forward just a bit, like he hadn’t been eyeing the soft pick of Janus’s lips through their entire previous discussion, like the fact that Janus’s shirt was not his own through this whole thing was entirely coincidence and not by both their designs. “I don’t know, Jan…. on my Christian Minecraft server?”

Janus laughed, and Virgil was almost certain that sound alone added seventeen years to his lifespan. It felt a bit like serotonin being directly injected into his bloodstream, making him absolutely stupid happy. Or perhaps that was just part of being near him, like the warmth in his chest. Maybe somewhere in the three years they had been apart Janus had developed a superpower, like an off brand power ranger who had a really pretty smile.

“Oh, chastity,” Janus said, “Thou art my biggest foe!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, scooped a glob of the aloe on two fingers, and swiped up to catch the bottom of his chin. Janus tossed his head back hissing.

“Betrayal!” He whined scooting away.

“Janus!” Virgil laughed, “Come on, stop being a child!”

“My own best friend!” Janus continued, “Betraying me!”

“Is that what this is?” Virgil muttered chasing after Janus with the aloe, “Trying to take care of you is a betrayal, now?”

Janus hissed again as Virgil made contact and the aloe did its job accelerating the speed at which the scars on his face were healing. It had only been two days since the incident-- two days since they had come face to face on that Pol’turian ship, two days since Janus had nearly killed Patton with a knife, two days since their very close call in the teleporting room and just barely managing to get back to their own ship. But even so the cuts on his face already looked several weeks old. The new scar tissue was pale and light and looked hella cool in Virgil’s opinion.

He just wished that the way that Janus had gotten said scars wasn’t because he had nearly been dismembered and literally sold for parts.

“How will I ever recover?” Janus playfully batted Virgil’s hand away again. “Oh Brutus! My brother! What have I done to incur a wrath like this?” He swung off the medical cot and fell to the floor in an over dramatic heap. He rolled over to stare up at Virgil, languidly draping his arm above his head, and smiled. Virgil who had seen galaxies, had seen suns and stars, had seen distant moons and auroras and nebulas, still thought that he was the prettiest site.

“Et tu, Brute?” Janus whispered.

“Oh my god,” Virgil snorted. “Please stop being a dramatic whiny bitch, will you?”

“Ah, but my dear Virge,” Janus kicked his foot up to tap Virgil’s own swinging feet, “Dramatic whiny bitch is my defining character trait.”

Virgil had a response, he did. But like every other instance where he ended up staring up at Janus for an extended amount of time, all his rational thought evaporated. It was definitely some sort of superpower and Virgil would defend that theory until the end of his days. There was something about his eyes that were so hypnotizing, something about his lips that were mesmerizing, something about the softness of his skin and the twitch of his nose that made the whole world melt away. Virgil could stare at him forever if Janus let him; could drink in the sight of him and live on just the glimpse of his brown curls bouncing to the tune of his voice. 

Even when he was lying on the floor there was a way that he held himself that was so undeniably Janus-like, Virgil couldn’t really explain it. He was smooth as silk, with a tongue sharper than a knife and twice as cutting. With just a word or expression he could change the atmosphere of the entities around himself, befriend a foe, slaughter a friend, raze the world and all its inhabitants. Janus Ekans had always been something that very few people could look away from.

But so very few people had been able to actually see him. In light of empty words and pretty promises and cheshire smiles, Janus had become a master of the English language (and Spanish and Japanese too) and then used those syllables to build the facade around him.

Virgil had taken a sledgehammer to that facade once and no one had forgiven him for it.

“Are you even listening to me?” Janus cried out from the floor, pitifully whiny and offended and all those things that rich white boys were when they weren’t the focus of attention. “Virgil! How can I complain about the state of your betrayal when you aren’t even paying attention to me?! This is an outrage! The disrespect!”

He tossed his other arm up and over his head letting them both sit on the pristine floor and the sliver of his stomach peeked from under his borrowed shirt. (It was Virgil’s shirt, the cleanest one he had and it fit him well all things considered.) Virgil’s eyes were drawn to the pale skin like a moth to a flame, drawn in and frozen in place.

Janus’s laugh died, “...Virgil?”

Virgil placed the open container of aloe on the medical bed and hopped down to the floor, so he was right next to Janus, his fingers hovering lightly over where the shirt had been moved and the pale skin that was marked by a crisscross of healed flesh. It was an old scar, but it wasn’t an old scar.

Because Virgil had seen Janus before, shirtless, like that time they had snuck out of Janus’s Mansion to go for a dip in the pool on a dare from one of them and Janus had tossed his shirt to the side right before doing a subpar cannonball. Or that time that they had gym and been forced to play some bastardized version of kickball and Janus had sweated his team's way to victory and peeled off his shirt halfway back to the locker rooms. Or that time that they had been hiding from the sweltering heat in the library during the summer and Janus had striped in front of about seven different people and made one girl faint.

Virgil had seen Janus shirtless before.

He had not seen that scar before.

So it was new, despite how old it looked.

“Oh,” Janus said chuckling, and lying back down with his eyes closed, “That’s from a Sblorp attack.” 

“A what.” Virgil repeated because there was no way that Janus had said that so casually.

Janus waves a hand up in the air in a flippant dismissive movement. “A Sblorp attack. You know Sblorps? I’m sure you’ve seen them before: Feathers? Fangs? An adoration for fresh flesh? I’m running out of words that start with F, here.”

Virgil carefully pressed up the lip of Janus’s shirt higher, hesitating in case Janus was about to smack his hands away. But all the other boy did was breathe deeply and sigh through his nose, watching him the way that he might have watched saturday cartoons (if Janus had ever had time to watch Saturday cartoons between his extra studying and being stupidly perfect).

The scar was a criss-cross, matching Virgil’s memory of the pointed teeth shape of a Sblorp. The jaw of it had definitely needed to unhinge in order to make the marks, digging in and gripping with the barbed notches. Sblorps were known for consuming flesh raw, for surprise attacks of unhinging their jaws to catch creatures wriggling on the ground, for latching on and never letting go. 

Virgil’s fingers ghosted over the old wounds, touching as featherlight as he could.

There had to have been a lot of blood, a lot of pain. And yet somehow Janus was still holding on to that passive smile, as if the memory was more fond than agonizing.

“It was my fault,” Janus said in lieu of explaining, “You know how Sblorps are afraid of anything bigger than them, right? Well Remus neglected to inform me that their fight-or-flight instincts are more like freeze-and-bite. I didn’t even see the thing until it was two inches from tearing out my large intestine.” He chuckled softly in a way that caused Virgil’s hovering fingers to make contact with his skin again.

“Ooh, cold,” Janus hummed, reaching down to catch his hands and weave their fingers together. “It took them forever to get that thing off me. Remus was laughing so hard he started oozing his goo or whatever it is.” 

“Toxin,” Virgil managed, “They… its a poison, that ignites all the pain receptors in the body.”

“Yeah that,” Janus squeezed his palm, then squinted and turned Virgil’s willing palm, “What’s this?”

At first Virgil wasn’t sure what had caught his eye. His hands were slender, but they had always been that way, more for the steady grace of piecing together electronics than for getting into fist fights, despite what the teachers at school always thought. He had calluses from work around the ship and a few scrapes on his knuckles from where he slammed it on the doorway yesterday while talking to Janus. His nails were bitten down to the quick from nineteen plus years of anxiety and three years of a miserable, directionless void when Janus had been dead and gone and past and Virgil was missing the company of his ghost. 

But Janus tilted his hand and revealed the faded red line along the side of his palm that ran from the base of his pinky to the heel of his hand. Janus rubbed his thumb along it, as if Virgil was delicate and breakable and fragile.

It almost made him want to snort: the idea that of the two of them, Virgil was the one that needed to be protected. Like Janus hadn’t been placed on that pedestal for all to see and never to be touched, like Janus hadn’t been the one who had chunks of his face carved into by an alien, like Janus hadn’t been declared dead by everyone back on Earth.

Janus looked at the mark, scarcely a scar and more of a reminder, and tutted softly. “What happened?”

“It was nothing,” Virgil said.

“You are a terrible liar still.”

Virgil blew out a breath, somewhere between annoyed and comforted by the way that he was so easily read by the other human. 

“Come on, I shared about mine,” Janus sat up as he spoke until they were sitting only a hair's breadth away from each other and their hands linked between them.

Virgil stuck his tongue in his cheek and glanced around the rest of the medical bay. It was empty except for the two of them, although it really shouldn’t have been. With the amount of damage Remus had taken he shouldn’t have been up and walking for weeks, but Remus wouldn’t let a simple thing like his own personal health and wellbeing stop him from terrorizing Roman. Virgil wasn’t sure where he had snuck off too, but after two days and dozens of escape attempts, Virgil had just stopped caring. Remus was Roman’s problem now.

Janus leaned forward. “Virrrrrgil!” He sang. “You can tell me anything!”

“Oh, can I?” Virgil said, also leaning forward. “Anything at all?”

“Absolutely! I’m a great secret keeper!”

Virgil leaned in, leaned in so close he could feel Janus’s breath on his cheeks, leaned in and squeezed their fingers together. “Hmmm…. Okay, how about this: I am in love with this boy.”

“No way,” Janus faux-gasped. “You’re gay?”

Virgil struggled to keep the smile off his face. “I am in love with this boy and he’s really pretty. Like super pretty.”

“Just pretty?”

“Oh no, He’s pretty and he’s a smartass.”

“You think my ass is smart?”

“Who said it was you? I was talking about Roman.”

Janus squawked, reeling back, like the words were a physical blow to his ego but he was laughing all the way. He tried to separate their hands but Virgil held tight and Janus yanked him forward. Before Virgil knew what had happened, he was lying on top of Janus, his forearm framing Janus’s head, and pressing his stomach to Janus’s chest.

“Hey,” Janus said in that same soft tone had that haunted Virgil’s most cherished memories: the late nights in Janus’s room, the early mornings when Virgil was trying to sneak out before the Mayor's security caught him, the quick greetings in the library before a study session.

“Hey yourself,” Virgil said, his own breaths tickling the wisps of his own hair falling over his eyes. He gently brushed his fingers through Janus’s own hair strands, teasing a lock or two between them. 

“So you really don’t want to tell me?” He asked, “After I shared my silly story?”

“I’d hardly call getting eaten by a Sblorp a silly story, Jan.”

“Perhaps you just lack imagination.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time with Remus.”

Janus paused for a moment, offered a half shrug, and then conceded the point because he was such a good person. He smiled again, a bit of a crooked thing, craning his neck so that they bumped noses.

“What if I said please?” He offered. 

Virgil sighed, although he guessed it was really more of a laugh after all. How had he forgotten how stubborn Janus could be? How he could latch onto a concept (such as how a golden boy and a rebel punk could be friends) and simply will it into being with nothing but his determination?

“You can’t laugh about it,” Virgil said. “I’m serious.”

Janus happily squirmed under Virgil’s body weight, part of a victory dance that made Virgil want to kiss away that smug expression again. Instead he leveled a look down at his face-- a mistake if he had ever made one. His eyes were almost impossible to look away from once he started looking that deep. They were black holes, dilating when he looked at Virgil until they sucked him right in and promised to never let him go. His left eye was gold, like the summer sun rays through the tree branches back on Earth, his right eye was brown, like fresh chocolate chips ready to become ammo in an impromptu food fight, and staring at them both reminded him of the best days of his life. 

“The truth is….” Virgil sighed, “I fell down a flight of stairs.”

Janus laughed anyway, because he’s a liar at heart and for some reason Virgil found that very attractive and liked him anyway.

“Wait, really?” He giggled-- honest to god, giggled. Virgil shook his head, but laughter like that was contagious and it had him swallowing back a smile.

“Yes, really,” Virgil pursed his lips, “We were on this little planet, uh, K3-450-something, and I had caught this cold from some Dreyfel that we were ferrying across the sector and Patton had regulated me to the medical bay, but in my lovely sick haze I thought that it was some sort of virtual reality escape video game where the damage didn’t translate over--Oh god please shut up.”

Janus laughed so hard he actually dislodged Virgil from on top of him. “I can’t-- I can’t--!! Oh my god, a game?”

Virgil hid his face in his sweatshirt sleeves. “You said you wouldn’t laugh, asshole!”

“I--I’m s-sorry!” He did not sound sorry at all, Virgil noted. He sounded like he was taking immense pleasure in making Virgil’s ears turn brick red with embarrassment. “But I said... no such t-thing. A game? Did you have a health bar too?”

“I think you're due for a date with the airlock.”

“S-sorry can’t... hear you!” Janus wheezed. “Over the...sound of-- fucking video game!”

Virgil groaned folding his arms over his head and hiding as much of his face as he could. “See this is why I didn't want to tell you!”

Janus’s laugh filled the air, his gasping breaths, making Virgil’s heart do some type of improvised dance routine without his permission. He peeked, because of course Virgil wasn’t going to miss a chance to see the mirth adorning Janus’s face. He peeked and sucked in a breath at the way Janus laughed with his whole body, kicking his feet and curling around his abdomen as he imagined the 99 million ways that sickly Virgil had managed to toss himself down a flight of stairs and gain a scar for his troubles.

“Are you done yet?” Virgil said breathlessly. He had to keep a reputation after all, didn’t he? He didn’t want Roman or Logan glancing by and assuming that he was anything other than a grumpy, nervous disaster human, after all. What would they do if either of them realized Virgil was soft and weak for Janus’s smile?

“No- No!” Janus gasped. He rocked back on his spine and lifted his leg in the air so he could roll up his pant leg, and showed off a series of two slashes on his lower calf. “Okay! You see this?”

He waited for Virgil to drop his sleeves from covering his face, waited until he could see Virgil’s beat red embarrassed face himself, waited with a grin and tried to catch his breath against the threat of giggling forever at Virgil’s stupidity.

“Yes.” Virgil said.

“This,” Janus traced his calf muscle, circling the very clear mark, “This I got from a little old lady on T7-365 who was selling these bad luck charms in a market place, except that she was an undercover police force or something and when she saw that I was a Deathworlder she leapt the goddamn table--I’m not joking! This lady had to be like 400 years old and you know that Shylans rarely live past 200, right? I thought if I defended myself she was gonna shatter!”

Virgil poked his leg, “She did that?”

“Yes! Those claws….” He shook his head, quirking his lips upward. “Remus tackled the lady off me. I swear he nearly crushed her entirely. And the entire police force chased us all back to the ship. I thought we were gonna die. Almost left behind Bowers and Kyle in the frenzy and--” 

Janus stopped. Virgil felt his own stomach hollow out and his breath catch in his throat in an insurmountable lump. The words had left Janus’s mouth so suddenly they had bowled over the others and reality had locked back in place around them.

The medical bay, the cuts on Janus’s face, the death of the rest of his and Remus’s crew.

The friends and family that they had lost and that everyone had done their best to tiptoe around and not bring up. Virgil knew that it had been wrong, to just pretend like none of it had happened to him, but at the same time… he was watching Janus's spark of happiness drain from his body and leave an empty coldness in its place. 

And Virgil had always been a bit of a coward.

If he still had nightmares about the strangers he had been forced to fight in the Welsor fighting rings, of the dust and the pain and the terror, of the bloodlust and the memories that were so obscured by his need to forget that he could not remember the faces of those that he killed….

If Virgil was still haunted by ghosts without names, he couldn’t imagine the horror of being haunted by those that had them. 

Janus curled up slightly, the same way he had done once upon a time when they were strangers who thought they knew each other and Virgil’s parents refused to be proud of him for anything and Janus’s refused to be disappointed in him for everything.

He forced a laugh. “Its stupid, you know?” He said in a way that made Virgil think that it was absolutely not stupid at all in any way shape or form. 

“I keep…” Janus huffed, “I keep thinking...if we had just... God, Virgil there were so many times…if we had just been a few minutes slower and gotten caught by the police, or just hung out longer on any one of the moon bases... maybe they would-- they would--” 

He sucked in a breath and let it back out, long and slow and painful in a way that was beyond physical.

(Compared to Remus, he had very little damage done to him. No lasting bruises, no broken bones, no head injuries. Virgil hadn’t had to ask why; they all knew that Pol’turs like their merchandise to be as undamaged as possible.)

Virgil wanted to say something, wanted to say anything to bring back that smile to his face, wanted to tell him it was okay but even twelve years of school could not have prepared him for this type of bullshitting. It wasn’t okay, and he didn’t need to force Janus to call him on that lie too. 

“It was bad, Virgil.” Janus said, with his eyes closed and voice so soft it could have been drowned out by the silence of space. 

He sucked in a shaky breath, one that caused his entire body to tremble, one that made Virgil want to reach out and hold him tight and make himself a human shield between Janus and the pain of memories.

"I wasn't even close to any of them." Janus admitted, "I mean Remus picked me up off a dwarf planet, and you know being a human and all...no one wanted to get too close." He laughed humorless, "They thought I was gonna rip their throats out in their sleep for a while."

"Deathworlder perks," Virgil whispered. 

Janus snorted, nodding, "Perks, yeah right." He sighed into his hands. 

Virgil watched him, watched him as he ground the heel of his palms into his eyes, watched as those hands trailed upwards and hooked on his bangs, watched as he tugged on his hair the way he used to when they were studying chemistry and Virgil understood it immediately when Janus couldn't figure out the differences between intermolecular and intermolecular forces.

"I should've…" Janus started. "I should've--"

"Hey," Virgil cut in. Because his heart was twisting, because his chest was aching,  because his eyes were burning. Because Janus was in front of him and he was doing a song and dance that Virgil had done three years ago when that detective showed up at his house and asked what Virgil had been doing on the fourteenth of the month and if he had anyone to collaborate his alibi.

He reached out and tapped on Janus's hands and slipped his fingers under the palms and wedged open the tight holds.

"Hey," Virgil said, waiting until Janus looked at him, "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have--! Virgil! I should have--!" He floundered, flubbed, scrambled for words in a way he was completely unpracticed in. He yanked at his hands but Virgil was stronger and held him, "I could have...done something!"

"Like what?"

"What?"

Virgil moved so he was directly in front of Janus, so that there was no missing him, so that there was no mistaking him. He squeezed Janus's hands tight and ground and pressed their knees together. "Like. What.” He repeated, “What could you have done, Janus?"

He was shaking, or maybe that was Virgil. Maybe it was both of them. Shaking together, shaking apart, shaking.

"I--"

"Tell me what you could have done," Virgil said lowly, "that wouldn't have cost you your life in the process?"

It was a selfish thing to say, but Virgil was a selfish creature. He hadn’t meant to be, hadn’t grown up being taught that way at all. If his parents had caught wind of how selfish and stupid and mean he had become they surely would have both had strokes. 

No, this was a type of selfishness that Virgil had learned and learned and then learned again. It was the selfishness that had reared its ugly head that night that Janus had caught up to him and begged to know how Virgil had known--known-- when the dirty little truth had been Virgil just being an awful person. It was a selfishness that had snuck into his heart when his feet had dangling off the fenced balcony and his lips had tasted like “Blackberry Breezer” and Janus’s had tasted like “Bahama Mama” and Virgil couldn’t decided if he liked the taste of them together or not. It was a selfishness that had torn him to pieces when he couldn’t tear his eyes off the empty desk next to him in Spanish III, when the police would show up at his house four days of the week and follow him around the town whenever he left, when he’d been told that he was not invited to the funeral and he said he refused to go anyway because Janus had not been dead, couldn’t be dead, he wasn’t dead, damnit!

It was a selfishness that Virgil hadn’t remembered he had until the moment that he had seen Janus again on that Pol’tur ship, alive and breathing and real--

He squeezed Janus’s hands, held him tight, held him here in this moment.

Because he was selfish enough to want to tear Janus away from the past. Because he was selfish enough to be grateful. Because Virgil was a terrible, awful person and he was happy that Remus and Janus’s crew had been torn apart because it had meant that Janus hadn’t been.

It had been two days since everything, since the escape from the mercenary ship since they had recovered Remus and Janus, since Virgil’s entire world had been desperately turned upside down. 

Two days since Virgil had been gifted back a part of himself he thought he had lost forever.

Janus had been an ingrained part of him. The Ying to his Yang, the inverse of himself, the funhouse mirror reflection at the world's crappiest funfair. When he had disappeared, Virgil had spent a year searching, waiting, hoping, praying. And it had gotten him nothing. 

Virgil had seen first hand how big the universe was, seen the most distant stars, escaped from the galaxy police, visited breathtaking moons-- Virgil had seen how massive Space With a Capital “S” really was.

And Virgil could have been on a distant moon. He could have been in space jail. He could have been back on Earth. He could have been anywhere in that massive amount of Space.

And Roman, Logan, and Patton could have been a few hours slower, a few days slower, they didn’t have to have gone after Remus at all, or Roman and Logan could have gotten Remus and then decided it was too big of a risk to go track down the mysterious last crew member-- 

And Janus could have died.

And he would have been just another nameless corpse.

And Virgil never would have known what had happened to the boy with two different colored eyes who had looked at him like he was something worth remembering. 

Virgil leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Janus’s, rubbing his thumb over Janus’s fingers, mixing their breaths together in a warm series of exhales and inhales and something else Virgil was too afraid to put a name too even after all this time.

“What could you have done?” He asked again, possibly a little desperately, possibly a little harsh, possibly a little mean and selfish and bad, “That wouldn’t have ended with you dead?”

Janus was shaking his head, moving it back and forth. There were words, incoherent and empty and Virgil heard them and felt his chest compress with every syllable. 

“Jan…” He said, dropping his hands to cup Janus’s face. His fingers haunted the marks on the cheek, reading the raised, healing scars like he was an expert in braille, trying to ignore the memory of blood where those cuts were.

“If I had just been faster...” Janus said brokenly. “They wouldn’t have been… I couldn’t...It should have been me, Virgil. I should have been--”

“Listen to me,” Virgil whispered, “Listen to me real well, Janus. Are you listening?”

Virgil brushed back a lock of Janus’s hair, brushed away the strands so he could stare into those nebulas he called eyes, brushed away the falling tears that reminded him of falling stars. It made his chest ache and heave with something distant and awful, made the words on his tongue feel meaningless and worthless. He wanted to understand, wanted to make Janus understand-- How could he not understand?

“I should have--” Janus said.

“No.” Virgil told him, “There’s no should haves or should have nots, okay? It happened, Jan. It happened and it was bad, but you can’t change it. If you keep thinking of things that should have happened, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

But no that’s not right, Virgil thought even as he said it. Because the should-have-been-theres hadn’t driven him crazy. It had made him doubt himself,yeah, made him talk and beg deities he didn’t believe in, made him hate himself and the world and everything in it, but it never once made him crazy.

Empty, though. 

Empty was an entirely different story.

Janus had disappeared and Virgil had laid awake at night feeling like someone had removed the lungs right from his chest cavity and sold them to some Quitans on the black market.

And Virgil wouldn’t wish that feeling on Janus’s crappy parents, much less Janus himself.

“I keep thinking…” Janus whispered, “I wish it had been me. Instead of them. Why didn’t they take me first? Aliens don’t adhere to “best for last”! I don’t even adhere to “best for last”! I wish-- I wish--!”

Virgil’s throat went dry, too dry. “A very smart man once told me that wishing on stars is a stupid and pointless thing to do,” Virgil breathed softly. “Remember that?”

Janus huffed out a harsh laugh, a sarcastic, angry laugh that told Virgil that he was well aware of that sort of advice and who it had come from. 

“The stars don’t give a fuck about us.” He quoted, parroted, mimicked a version of himself that was four years younger, four years stupider, and four years a memory and nothing more. “I guess... I was right... about one thing, huh?”

The words he was going to say, all of the billions of them, got wedged in his esophagus, leaving barely enough room for him to breathe. He wheezed after Janus’s voice breaking, after the whimpering tone, after the crystal tears. 

How could he explain that Janus was always right? That Virgil would trust Janus over himself every time? 

He hoped that he could convey the message through telepathy or through his touch or something. Because if he had to say them out loud he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from crying too.

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t think either of them really noticed. The lights in the medical bay didn’t change or dim and the door never opened. The halls of the rest of Roman’s ship were a respectful quiet that Virgil knew had nothing to do with either of them as much as Patton was reorganizing the cargo hold and doing an inventory check while Logan went through the communications they had missed and decided what job requests they should adhere to, and Roman and Remus were up on Bridge several floors away probably arguing because they had yet to stop really.

Time passed, and Janus didn’t say anything more, lapsing into that silent crying that he had perfected in the bathroom at their middle school because god forbid someone find out that Janus was fucking miserable being the center of attention every second of his life. Virgil kissed his temple featherlight and softly pressed their foreheads together. He didn’t move, even after his knees started to ache and both his feet started to fall asleep and Janus’s tears soaked through the sleeves of his sweatshirt and left his wrists feeling cold and uncomfortable.

Time passed, and Virgil counted Janus’s breaths the way he used to count the stars, back before he had ever thought about the possibility of actually going into space and the concept of alien life was as debatable as the idea of meeting Mothman one day.

“I…” Janus sniffled. Virgil waited patiently for him to finish, but he must have changed his mind because he just burrowed his head into Virgil’s shoulder, and breathed out shakily.

Janus fell into him like he was a blackhole, and Virgil did his best to hold them both up and keep his heart rate low and even and calming. He restarted his mental count of Janus’s breaths, feeling each inhale and exhale through his fingers that were rubbing circles on Janus’s shoulders.

Somewhere around a sleepy, soundless three thousand, Janus stirred back into himself. He inhaled deeper and pulled back from Virgil’s shoulder wiping away the leftover tear tracks with his pale and clammy hands.

“You said,” He started, with a measure of exhaustion that Virgil felt deep in his soul, “You said...back when you first saw me….Did my parents really declare me dead?”

Their Pride and Joy, they had called Janus once, twice, a billion times. If Virgil closed his eyes he could see them there: Janus’s mother who still looked to be in her late twenties despite nearing fifty now, with long blond hair that curled in perfect rings and so much glittering diamond jewelry that she was hard to look at in in the flash of paparazzi cameras, and Janus’s Dad, the Mayor, who’s dark brown hair and charismatic smile had been plastered across the city every election year. They had shown up to every event that Janus had been in, and had turned it into a showcase about how great and fantastic Janus was. Every award ceremony, every spelling bee, every sports game, Chess club, Robotics, Art shows--

Perfect, flawless Janus Ekans, they called him. Gonna grow up to be the finest President of the entire United States, whether he wanted to or not.

With a life like his, no one had ever really considered the idea that he might have run away. And two weeks without a ransom note had led everyone to assume that he had been murdered. According to the lead detective, kidnapped teenagers rarely made it past the first twenty four hours, no matter how much people loved him. 

Virgil’s expression must have given him away because Janus blinked hard again and furiously scrubbed away a new wave of tears.

“They…” Virgil swallowed hard, “They waited. A whole eight months. But there was no note, no ransom call, nothing. The detective wanted to close the case.”

Virgil didn’t tell him that he had been barred from the service, that Janus’s parents who had always hated the bad influence that was Virgil hadn’t stopped glaring at him, that the media had picked up on the cold exchanges and crafted their own story on what happened. Virgil did not tell him that everyone had eaten up that story, including Janus’s parents, and the rumors had spiraled into a noose strategically wrapped around Virgil’s neck.

Virgil didn’t tell him anything about the last four months he had spent on Earth, and definitely didn’t tell him that sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat wondering if the Weslor Fighting Rings were really worse than life back on Earth.

“Virgil I…” Janus’s hands reached forward suddenly, twisting around the edges of his hoodie and tightening. “Virgil, I’m dead, right? They killed me.”

And Virgil was ready for the sadness, ready for the harrowing realization that his parents had turned their backs on him, ready for Janus to realize that he had lost something important again.

Virgil was not ready for the blissed out relief on his face.

“I’m dead,” He whispered again in the silence Virgil left behind. “Virgil, I am dead.” He inhaled sharply. “I don’t ever have to go….” He tugged on Virgil’s jacket again, then let go quickly and smoothed out the fabric over his chest, as if he was afraid of offending Virgil somehow.

(As if Virgil wasn’t fully prepared to give him anything he asked for already.)

“Do you,” Janus asked, “Do you want to go back?”

His tone was entirely too level, too even, too emotionless for a guy who was overflowing with negative emotions. It pricked at a memory Virgil once had of a night far too long ago and buried in a Janus sized coffin: it was the voice he used to use in public when his parents were bragging and Janus was praying that they would stop putting him in the spotlight but knew deep down they would never knock it off.

It was the tone, the voice, the expression he used when he was afraid of the answer, but resigned to the fate of it.

“Do you?” Virgil asked back, because even if he knew the answer he needed to hear him say it. Out loud.

To make it real.

Because if Virgil had read him wrong, if Janus wasn’t drowning in relief, if this wasn’t hope of never needing to go back to Earth-- Virgil would-- He would--

He would ask Logan and Roman and Patton to take them back, if that’s what Janus wanted, if that was what made Janus happy. Virgil would leave all of the cosmos, all the distant planets, all the alien races, all the dying stars to follow him back to Earth. He would forget all about the great, huge, endless expanse of Space and stay with Janus on their tiny, little deathworlder planet in their tiny, little hateful city.

“My parents buried an empty coffin,” Janus said. “I think...that’s the only good thing they ever did for me.”

Virgil’s heart did a pitter-patter in a way he wasn’t sure it was supposed to do.

Janus scooted towards his side with a great amount of effort. Virgil watched him, cataloguing the sudden weakness in his arms, the tiredness of his expression, the fatigue that clung to the very essence of him. All that just to flop his head on Virgil’s shoulder. When he exhaled again, it sounded a lot like him letting go of a billion more unsaid words.

“I want to let Janus Ethan Ekans stay dead,” He admitted.

Virgil tilted his own head so his cheek pressed against Janus’s and breathed in deep. He smelled like the alien flower shampoo that Roman liked to use. Virgil hadn’t hated it, but he also hadn’t adored it all that much. Now though, he thought he might be okay if that was the only thing he smelled for the rest of his life.

“I’ll have to find a new name to go by, I think,” Janus continued, his tone dripping with exhaustion.

“Oh?” Virgil humored him, like he was prone to do.

“Yeah,” Janus smiled a little as his eyes fluttered closed. “I got...a few ideas already. Had them for a while.”

“Do I get a hint?” Virgil asked, settling back so that he could rest against the leg of the cot for support. He shifted a bit to get a good adjustment, and Janus very patiently whined while he did because he was still a brat.

“I was thinkin’,” Janus said, “maybe Janus Storm, instead.”

Virgil’s heart fluttered, like a butterfly’s wings on a billion butterflies that he could feel bumbling around in his chest all at once. For an absurd moment he flashed back to all those times in his Chemistry class where he scribbled “Virgil Ekans” in the margins of his notes enough times for him to be too embarrassed to bring them out after Janus had asked him for help studying. 

Janus Storm. Janus Storm. Janus Storm.

It made his chest feel light, but his stomach feel hollow. He hadn’t called himself Storm in two years, not since the Yurinks picked him off of Earth, not since the whole world had determined that Virgil Storm was a cold blooded killer, not since the detective had asked him to confirm for the record that he was indeed Virgil Storm, seventeen, male, son of--

“Nah,” Virgil said softly. “We should make our own. Something different from either of our families, you know?”

Janus breathed out part of a sleepy laugh, “Like Johnson?”

“Janus and Virgil Johnson?” Virgil tested.

They made twin faces of dislike.

“Smith? Hernadez?” Janus offered. “Miller?”

“Let's make a list,” Virgil suggested tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I’ve always wanted... to be an Anderson.”

“Ugh, like Kyle Anderson?” Janus muttered. “He used to cheat off my Spanish homework.”

“So did I.”

“Yeah, but you’re cute.”

Virgil snorted. “What ‘bout….Davis?”

“Jones?”

“Janus Jones? You really want to be a JJ? ”

Janus made a noise of recognition, something disagreeable and agreeable at the same time. Virgil hummed in his own chest as he listened to it. The soft huffs of air from Janus’s lips lulled him into a calmness, of quietness, of peacefulness. By the time he realizes that Janus hadn’t responded, his own eyes felt too heavy to bother trying to open again.

Janus and Virgil. Virgil and Janus. 

“We’ll think of something,” Virgil murmured and let himself fall asleep as well.

[Next Installment: Happy Little Stars]

[bibislut]

A Girl Walks Into A Tower

After finding out her best friend is actually Spider Man, Leena's whole world changes. Enter: a meddlesome billionaire, some flirty super soldiers, and one (1) stubborn God of Mischief. Throw in a real need for better communication, a game of spin the bottle and a whole load of banter - and you'll have yourself a real good time at Stark Tower.

Also known as Loki is hella sexy, hella moody and really freakin' stubborn. Featuring: Peter Parker being the cutest, Sam Wilson being a cheeky bitch and a little bit of being a bad ass on the reader's part.

This work has explicit language, sexual content and some mentions of blood / violence, so please take this into consideration before reading!

Word Count: 19,260

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1

You couldn't help but close your eyes as you took the stairs up to your apartment by memory. You'd lived here for nearly a decade now, and the 9 flights' every creak and whine were ingrained in your memory by now, and the 10 hour shift you'd just done could be felt in every muscle: you couldn't help but rest your eyes for a moment.

You finally reached your landing and opened your eyes only to find Peter Parker dozing against your door frame, dried blood staining his skin from his hairline to his eye. The seventeen year old often came to you for a stitch up, not wanting to frighten his Aunt with his injuries. You frowned down at his snoring form and hitched your bag better on your shoulder, crouching down to place your hand on his cheek. "Peter." you whispered, not wanting to startle him. The teenager opened his eyes with a dopey smile.

"Hey, Lele."

"Hey idiot, let's get you inside." You couldn't help but return his warm smile as he shrugged off your attempt to help him up - you always forgot how strong he was. You pulled your keys from out of your pocket and opened the door. Dropping your bag to the floor, you flicked on the lights and shut the door behind Peter, watching him limp to your kitchen table.

"What happened this time?" you asked as you rolled up your sleeves and washed your hands. You reached for a flannel from the bottom drawer and ran it under the hot water.

"Just some kids from school."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew the teenager would be picking at his lips like he did every time he lied. You knew he'd never tell you what really went on before he turned up to your apartment - he never did. You rung out the cloth.

"I swear to God Peter, if I come home one day to find you dead on my doorstep, I will resurrect you just to kill you myself." You couldn't help the motherly tone that clipped your words, despite only having a few years on the boy. Peter winced both at your words and at the pressure you applied as you wiped away the blood. As you cleaned the wound, you were relieved to see that it wouldn't need stitches, but there was a good chance it would scar. You frowned.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry Leena..." He surged forwards to wrap you in a tight hug and you sighed into his hair. You'd known him since he was 6 and you were practically family now. His uncle and your dad had died the same year, your mom joining them a few years ago. You'd always looked after each other, silently vowing protection over the other with each funeral attended. A loud banging at the door pulled you both apart, and you looked at each other in silence as you went to the drawers and pulled out your handgun, Peter walking into the shadows as was protocol (though you had never had to follow it before).

You were a good shot, but Peter was much more quiet and agile - a surprise attack suited him well. You don't know when you'd both become so jumpy, perhaps it was when Aliens began ransacking the city in 2012, or when the murders on the news became more frequent, or when... It didn't really matter. The world was a shit storm, and you'd let hell freeze over before you let anyone you loved get hurt because you weren't prepared.

You looked through the peephole to see someone you most certainly would not have expected. You turned to whisper to the shadows where you knew Peter was. "It's Tony Stark!" Peter emerged quickly, pushing you out of the way to unlatch the door, leaving you gaping like a fish.

"Hey, Mr Stark!" He threw himself at the billionaire, wrapping his arms around him. The businessman-turned-superhero patted the boy's back. The dirt that covered Peter smeared across the obviously expensive navy suit, but neither seemed to care.

"Good to see you alive, kid. Friday said you had some injuries and when I looked on your suit tracker you weren't in your apartment." He pulled Peter back to stare at him sternly. "Care to explain?" You looked at the two of them in shock. Since when had Peter met Tony Stark? And since when had they become so obviously close? The worry etched across the philanthropist's face certainly seemed genuine enough.

Peter turned to look at you anxiously. "I was with Leena, I stopped a robbery a couple blocks away, but they must have got me because I was bleeding, so I came here. She does a great job of cleaning me up, and I didn't want to scare Aunt May, you know how she wo-" he babbled, looking between the two of you, but stopped as Tony made a 'zip it' motion. You frowned at Peter's words; since when did he stop robberies? You put the gun you forgot you had been holding in the waist pants of your jeans and stepped forwards, offering your hand, which was far steadier than you expected.

"I'm Leena, I've known Peter since we were kids."

Tony shakes your hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Tony Stark." You look between the two of them as awkward silence begins to fill the air. You turn to gesture towards your apartment.

"Would you like to come in?" That was what you were supposed to do, right? Offer hospitality? You shook your head quickly to yourself. What the hell was going on?

You lead the way for the two guys, but put a hand on Peter's chest. "Go wash your hands before I catch you putting dirt in the wound I just cleaned." He offers you a salute as he turns down the corridor.

You make your way back to the kitchen to find Mr Stark lounging at the table in the spot where Peter had sat. "Tea or Coffee?" you ask. You wonder for a moment if the month old dollar brew in your cupboard is even worth offering.

"Coffee, black, one sugar." He offers you a thankful smile. You turn around and pull out three mugs, one tea, one coffee and one hot chocolate for Peter. "I bet cleaning up Mr Friendly-Neighborhood-Spider-Boy gets a bit tiring." The billionaire offers as a replacement for the silence. You stiffen, turning to stare at him.

"What?"

He curses under his breath “He didn't tell you?" The business mogul suddenly looks panicked - a glaring contrast to the confident man you'd seen on TV.

You snap your neck to look at the now-frozen Peter Parker standing in the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.

"What the flying fuck, Peter?!"

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

You woke the next day at noon, not as rested as you'd hoped after you'd spent most of last night arguing with Peter. You had to admit you were proud of him, and it did make a lot of sense now that you thought about it. His constant 'fights at school', how light on his feet he was, how agile, how strong he was. You were kind of pissed that you hadn't figured it out before to be honest. You had had a hard time believing it all, but once Peter pulled his suit from his stash behind the couch, you didn't really have a choice but to accept the truth. Tony Stark had also been quite nice to talk to, and the way he treated Peter as his own was so great to see. He'd always needed a father figure. Tony had watched the two of you with rapt interest, seemingly pleased to meet someone so close to Peter. After a while Peter fell asleep on the couch, his head on your shoulder and you and Tony had mouthed your goodbyes. He'd woken up about an hour later and you gave him a hug as he climbed through your window to sneak back to his own apartment.

You sat up and stretched, stifling a yawn as you padded down the hall to the kitchen. A big yellow envelope hung from your letter box and you grabbed it curiously.

EVICTION NOTICE!

"Shit!" You cursed loudly, tearing it open. You knew the landlord was a slimy bastard, but you couldn't believe he was kicking you out. He was a selfish layabout and owned a few of the apartments in the building, yours being the nicest and largest. Knowing him, he probably wanted it so he could move in with his new girlfriend. Of course, he didn't say that in the notice, only that you had two weeks to pack your things and go.

*****

You'd spent the whole day at work lost in your thoughts, barely noticing the caffeine crazed customers around you.You didn't have enough saved to move anywhere decent, yet alone pay the first month's rent upfront as most landlords wanted. You couldn't move in with family - they were all dead or on the other side of the country. You didn't really have any close friends, only your work colleagues. That left Peter's place - but you knew they didn't have a spare room and you certainly couldn't squish everything you had into their living room.

You were still racking your brains by the time the last customer left the coffee shop at 9.55PM, and you hurried to wash their cup and sweep up, locking up and leaving. You trudged through the bitter cold of late-October the five blocks back to your building, bumping into the spider-boy himself in the foyer. You began walking up the stairs together, but found Peter frowning at you as you realized he'd asked you a question. You blinked at him.

"What?"

"You alright Lele? You seem distracted."

You pushed your hair out of your face with a grimace. "I'm being evicted."

It was Peter's turn to blink at you. "What?"

"That bozo, Ethan, is kicking me out." You tried to keep the childlike petulance out of your voice but failed miserably.

"Oh, shit. What are you gonna do?" You hated to be the reason for Peter's worried expression.

"I don't know. I'll figure something out though Pete, I always do." You kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the arm as you reached your perspective doors. "Goodnight, Pete."

Friday was usually games night, but he seemed to understand your lack of excitement without you having to explain. You threw him a grateful look and went your separate ways.

Read the rest on Ao3

[gordonradiotv]

BENREY: ...so hey.

BUBBY: What do you want?

BENREY: you havent tried to like. burn me at the stake yet

BUBBY: Yes I have.

BUBBY: That’s literally the first thing I tried to do when I saw you again.

BENREY: look. i forget shit

BUBBY: How do you manage to forget someone trying to murder you!?

BENREY: ive died a lot bro

BENREY: also like

BENREY: water under the bridge tbh

BUBBY: Water under the bridge?

BENREY: i mean, yeah

BENREY: like. okay technically the shit i did wasnt me but like

BENREY: you thought it was, yknow?

BENREY: so like i imagine its...kinda hard. to not see me as..that

BENREY: ...i cant...not see myself as that either, so...

BENREY: i get it

BUBBY: …

BUBBY: Look.

BUBBY: I know you weren’t in control of your actions.

BUBBY: It was some. Skeleton- alien bullshit or something.

BUBBY: And I could sit here and chastise you all day about being stupid enough to let that happen to yourself-

BUBBY: I very much want to!

BUBBY: But I. Don’t think we have the time for it.

BUBBY: And frankly I don’t want to waste my energy on that.

BUBBY: But even then I’m allowed to be on guard!

BENREY: yeah man, totally.

BUBBY: Why’re you so calm about this!?

BENREY: i already told you bro i get it.

BENREY: what happened to gordon is super sucks, it's even more sucks that either of us had like. anything to do with it. even unintentionally.

BENREY: be mad all you want, dude, it’s like. expected.

BENREY: ...but if it uh.

BENREY: helps you feel any less...shitty about it.

BENREY: ummm..how do i put this in a way that you’ll actually like. hear it.

BENREY: it...wasn’t entirely your fault.

BENREY: you’re like..super resistant to the shit that’s going on, but you were kinda like...supposed to do that.

BENREY: but you like. were resisting it, even if you didnt notice. so they had to use me to nudge you in the right direction.

BENREY: so like...if it weren’t for them i don’t think you woulda sold gordon out.

BUBBY: That makes no sense.

BENREY: ya, i know man. it will eventually, gotta get your brain all unscrambled first tho

BENREY: basically like. don’t blame yourself too much cause shits fucked and if shit wasn’t fucked you probably wouldn’t have done that shit.

BENREY: cause you’re super resilient. seriously it’s scary. stubborn motherfucker this guy

BUBBY: ...Thank you? I think?

BENREY: np dude np

BENREY: ...so like, truce? you gonna stop death staring me now?

BENREY: cause i gotta go bully gordon into actually taking care of himself and i cant lecture a man if im getting death stared. he’s stupid as hell, man.

BUBBY: *Snorts* You can say that again.

BENREY: dumb little hero complex boy

BUBBY: Thinks he’s some big tough guy. Dumbass.

BENREY: chicken ass

BUBBY: Little chicken ass bitch.

BENREY: yeah!

BUBBY: *Chuckles* Well don’t let me keep you waiting.

BUBBY: But I’ve got my eye on you.

BENREY: yeah yeah yeah dude we get it.

BENREY: uh...good talk.

BUBBY: Whatever. Go pester your weird eye candy guy.

BENREY: eye candy?

BUBBY: Go already!

BENREY: geeze ok bro. touchy

[brandstifter-sys]

Molting

Word Count: 2479           (Ao3)

Rating: T+

Characters: Virgil, Remus, all other sides as of PoF mentioned

Pairing: Dukexiety (platonic but could be not platonic if you want)

Warnings: Body Horror, Spider!Virgil, knife, sex mention, grossness, Gore, swearing, physical strain, exhaustion

Virgil is a spider boy, and spiders need to molt. It’s not a pretty sight and it’s an ordeal Virgil hates. Lucky him, he has a best friend who is willing and able to help, even if it drives him nuts.

-----

"Hey Princey, where's Virge?—Whoa are you okay, you look like you need to sit down, kiddo!"

"Patton, Virgil won't be joining us for a few days, surely his eating habits and sudden baldness have been a sign of the time of year for him." Logan commented from his seat on the couch. Roman was curled up and shaking, pallid and horrified.

"You mean?" Patton squeaked and shuddered. 

"Yes. I will be joining Janus and Remus during the clean up. I suggest you try to avoid his room for the next few days. Molting is a delicate process." 

-------

Virgil felt like jello, trapped in a hard shell. He was on his back spread and nude, unable to move without the sickening feeling that came with it. His chelicerae and extra limbs were out and just as rigid, making his position more awkward. He couldn’t breathe and he desperately tried to force his gelatinous form to shift and expand where his head was. He was dizzy, just trying to crack the eggshell-thin casing like a chick about to hatch, only without anything solid to chip at the barrier.

Pop!

The casing around his head split in half, with a sickening crack, leaving him gasping for air. Oh that sweet, sweet oxygen was tainted by the taste of his own skin-flavored goo falling into his open mouth. His eyes were sealed shut, but not out of fear for what he would see, since they didn't do a great job at blocking the light. No they were closed until he was sure none of his shell got in his eyes, trapped in the gelatinous muck that would cause his eyelids to tear if he dared open them.

"I thought I might have to cut you out of there if you took much longer," someone, Janus he assumed based on the tone, hummed softly nearby, "Time to cut off the area around your shoulders. Do try and wiggle out of it once it's done. And yes, you have to get yourself out." 

Virgil tried to calm his breathing, waiting for one of the worst parts. He was too fragile and squishy to be nicked by a blade, let alone a full cut. But he trusted Janus more than the others, except maybe Remus, especially with his mouth wide open.

Virgil could feel the vibrations through the floor. The steady gait and heavier footfalls were different from what he expected, but he could chalk it up to Janus being tired, he and Remus did carry him here and set up when his outer layer went rigid and his bones melted into this disgusting jelly.

He heard the blade gliding over his shell just above his shoulders with such a slight amount of pressure. It was far too smooth to be Janus's work, and Remus wasn't there, so it had to be Janus, but something about the stiff meticulous nature was throwing him off. 

"Now you have to go up towards the ears on both sides and then to the crown. Once that's done you can carefully lift those pieces away." Janus said to the person cutting his head free. Virgil's heart pounded in his ears, at least his soft organs were still intact, as intact as the situation allowed. He struggled to keep his breathing even, unsure where the blade was. 

"Would it be more efficient to cut along the fault?" That was Logan. That was okay, he was not easily disturbed. His suggestion, however, was not okay.

"Do you want to risk slitting his throat?" Janus asked with an edge to his voice, "He is vulnerable and having that scalpel near his throat will make his anxiety worse."

"I understand. In that case—" Logan trailed off and continued his task. Janus hissed under his breath, in a way that only Virgil would understand, but he didn’t, which was concerning. For the smart side, Logan had his stupid moments and this Janus was regretting bringing him in so soon.

"And to be clear, I am not supposed to peel the exoskeleton." 

"Correct. And once you remove the upper half, will you have a suitable specimen?" this Janus responded curtly. He was done sharing this vulnerable moment with the nerd. 

"Yes," Logan said as the tips of his fingers brush Virgil's new skin, making him wince, "Remus has already called 'dib'—is that the correct phrase?" 

"Yes." 

"He has already called dib on the lower half."

Virgil winced as cool air hit his tender form. He could feel the slime stretching and pulling away from him with a soft, sickening snap, with the tendrils falling back into the near liquid of his body. Logan was quick to set that piece aside and remove the other with as much dexterity and grace as before. 

"Shall I tell Remus his presence is requested at this time?" Logan asked as he gathered his samples.

"No. I suggest you sink out to your room before he bursts in like the unhinged maniac he becomes when told to sit still and wait." this Janus droned. Logan nodded and sank out. And not a moment too soon. But it felt like the other presence changed rapidly.

"Virgil, I’m the only one here with you. I'm going to clear your nose before I wipe your eyes," Remus hummed, after dropping his disguise, and knelt down beside him on the old sheet he was laying on. The bulb syringe entering his nostril was a strange sensation when his nose was basically formless, as was the goo exiting his nose, but it was a relief. 

"Stay focused on breathing, Virgil, 3/4 time—that's it. One more time." 

The second his nose was cleared, Virgil closed his mouth. Remus giggled and conjured a clean rag. 

"Whatsamatter, Soft-skull? Don't like the taste of your own mucus? It's like a giant loogie!" Remus cackled and carefully wiped down his face. 

"I thought you said you weren't gonna pull that stunt," Virgil wheezed. 

"Nerd wanted samples more than I want my dick sucked. I had to pretend to be Jan to keep things calm in here—you think the nerd would listen to me? Besides, Janus isn't good at anything but the first cuts. He thinks it's nasty!" Remus laughed, "It is but that's not the real issue—it's the mess that you leave behind that's the problem!"

Virgil rolled his eyes and focused on wiggling out of his shell instead of the duke's rant. It was the same one every season. Whether it was Janus's scales or the molting, Remus would bitch about the mess.

"... and I know what you're thinking—what everyone thinks! 'Why are you so bent out of shape? You like grossness and garbage and mess!'" Remus rambled, "There's a difference between a messy aesthetic and a mess! Organized chaos, Harlot's Web, I know exactly where everything is and where it's supposed to be even if it looks like shit! It's mine to manipulate! Your body cast is not in the design plan!" 

"Talk cryptids, dammit!" Virgil hissed as he tried to squeeze his way out of his exoskeleton, weakly curling his toes, or attempting to, "I hate this shit too!" 

"Cryptids and cursed objects?" Remus cooed. 

"Fine!" Virgil grunted, feeling the goo on his skin shifting and stretching with the slightest movement, peeling him away from his old skin slowly. He was going to take hours to get out.

"Okay so I know you don't usually watch the videos of Dybbuk box openings and you should, gets the blood pumping, but you know those are fake, right? They're all a sham!" Remus started ranting. His rage was actually quite helpful as a motivator to move. 

"...and don't get me started on the bullshit wax! It's so hard to clean! You know I have a design aesthetic and wax is not a part of it! Especially when there's no restless spook involved! It's a lot of crap with no real payout! If I wanted to have a creepy old box covered in wax I could make one myself!" 

“Fill it with spider exoskeleton,” Virgil huffed and wheezed at the exertion, “It’ll make a good snack!”

“Just like you!” Remus giggled, “But seriously, those things don’t hold any angry ghosties, and they seem problematic in other ways too, which usually isn’t a problem for me, but no spooks? That’s crossing a line! I could create better cursed objects!” Remus paused as a wicked grin split his face. Oh no.

“Get me out of here and you can see something really cursed!” Virgil spat, venom shooting from his mouth, literally, and landing on the sheet under him. He broke into a fit of coughing, his form sloshing and molding in the shape of his exoskeleton. 

"Easy there, Swamp Thing!" Remus jeered, "If no one helps Bolt, Nimby, Cirrus, Cyoomy, Hansel, or Gretel when they molt, you don't get much more help either." 

"Swamp Thing? More like the Blob!" Virgil retorted bitterly. Remus clapped his hands and grinned.

"You are so right!" he cheered, "That's a better nickname when you're like this! Like an alien creeping out of a meteor all gelatinous and prone to leaving slime trails! Emo Jello! How you still have lungs is a mystery to me! You don't even have a digestive tract!" 

"Great reminder, jackass!" 

"It is! All your fluids and organs are blended up—except for your heart, blood, brain, and lungs!"

Virgil tried to ignore the glee in his voice and focused on moving. He didn't feel like telling him that his blood was traveling through his body through osmosis, always finding a way back to the heart and lungs, he would see it eventually. The rubbery slick kept him stuck to his exoskeleton, bending and stretching, but always pulling him back. 

"You look like a jaundiced Hellboy cosplayer in a deflated Paleman blow-up suit who's gonna eat a crap ton when he gets back to normal! And then there's the whole hair growth thing! Like throwing straw on a potato sack filled with rotten meat! Do you even have eyelashes now?"

"You. Tell. Me." Virgil grunted and grit his teeth, which were far too soft to actually bite anything or grind. Remus squatted next to him and leaned in close. 

"They're coming in!" Remus grinned and stood up. Virgil groaned and flexed his chelicerae. Some movement was better than none. He was trapped, like swimming in tar, and he had to fight to escape his full-body restraint. 

"Do you want some music? I can do a striptease!" Remus asked and wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Does this get you hot and bothered, sicko?" Virgil scoffed and tried to focus on curling his fingers with what energy and strength he had. Remus pouted and wiggled his mustache in thought. 

"No, not really. But just standing here is boring! Besides, it's just incentive for you to burst out of your shell!" 

"Not. Interested." 

"You and I both know you would do anything to stop me from getting naked for no reason!" Remus teased. He was right of course, but it was still irksome.

"Shut up," Virgil hissed, still not getting anywhere, "Put on some music and keep your fucking pants on!" 

"Fine!" Remus groaned and rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers, filling the room with some sick emo jams. At least they made Virgil more at ease! 

Two Days Later…

"Remus, c'mon!" Virgil panted as he fruitlessly clawed at the soft carpet trying to remove himself from his exoskeleton, smearing goo all over. He was weak and exhausted from the endless strain. His body was still akin to a gummy bear with a dark cherry filling, but at least his bangs were back. 

"Nope! I already cut out your—" 

"Please! I'm not even stuck!" Virgil cried, "Pull me out of here!" He was so close to bursting into tears. Two days straight of wiggling just to get back to normal took its toll on him. Two days straight of moving two inches forward and one inch back with no food or water left him weak. There was no time for sleep and no time to rest. Remus didn't sleep the entire time either and it showed. 

"I could tear you in half, and then your guts'll spill all over the floor and there'd be a huge stain and you'd be pissed off while you bleed out!" he said with a bright grin that bordered on maniacal.

"It's just my legs! Please!" he begged, "I don't have the strength!" He was actually crying at that point. Remus ceded and carefully looped his arms under Virgil's. The goo stuck to his shirt as he carefully pulled the emo from his old skin and scooped him up into his arms. 

"Easy there, Raggedy Anx, you're free to crawl on the ceiling and scare those losers like some fleshy horror movie creature bent on devouring them, starting with the eyes," Remus said and stood up. He could have easily snapped Virgil's spine over his knee, watched him writhe in agony and scream until he couldn't manage it anymore. He could watch his fluids pool under his translucent skin and ooze out of the puncture wound from the snapped vertebrae. 

He did the smart thing and placed the fragile blob of emo on the bed and stepped back. Molting meant growing and that meant he needed space as everything took shape again. Remus could already see what changes happened under that shell as Virge gasped, forcing air in to help his expansion. 

"Stress workouts?" Remus asked and stretched his arms above his head. 

"Mostly." 

"You fixed your—" 

"Yeah and that was your fault!" 

"No no no, I didn't mess up the piercing—you let it get infected and tried to rip it off!" 

"I'll rip yours off if you don't shut up!"

"I can regrow it, without going all rigor mortis alien!" Remus laughed, "But I can't make it any bigger, so you have me beat!" 

"Go to bed," Virgil huffed, "You're losing it." He kept up his hyperventilating style of breathing and closed his eyes. Just a few more hours of this and he could finally get some rest. 

"But you're not sleeping!" Remus argued, "And I vowed to watch over you while you're weak and nasty!" 

"You sound like Roman," Virgil scoffed. 

"You take that back!" 

"'I vowed' c'mon that's a Princey line!" Virgil huffed, “You need to get out of this room. Come after you get some rest and food. You did your part.” Remus pouted and snapped his fingers. The exoskeleton and sheet on the floor vanished. That was the last thing he had to do before Janus could take over. 

“Fine, but I’ll be back and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Remus laughed and sank out. Virgil rolled his eyes, like he could ever stop Remus from doing anything! This time he didn’t want to.

Reblogs > Likes

[echo-bleu]

Brothers

A little Manes brothers canon divergence for @eveningspirit ‘s birthday! I hope you like it :) It also happens to fit with today’s @alexmanesappreciation theme: legacy.

[concussions, mentions of vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of the shed scene]

The exact sequence of events that leads to him, Flint and Gregory sitting together on a mattress in the bared living room of a house he doesn't know will remain blurry in Alex's memory. He puts it on the massive concussion he sustained at the hands of his own father, because he was careless enough to let his guard drop for ten seconds and the bastard managed to sneak up on him.

He remembers waking up in his childhood home and almost throwing up on the floor of the basement at the goddamn awful feeling of being back there−or maybe that was just the concussion. Probably the concussion.

He'd suspected that his father was faking most of the consequences of his stroke for a while, and he'd known about the bug on his phone for days. He just didn't expect his father to act so fast, in the middle of the junkyard, when Alex was supposed to report back in the morning.

Maybe Jesse heard something in his voice down in the bunker. Alex let his emotions carry him away and said more than he meant to, so maybe his father figured out that he was made somehow. Either way, he got the drop on him, and Alex woke up with a killer headache, pissed off, confused, and, yes, scared. Even after all these years, after three tours overseas, his father still scares the shit out of him.

The one who greeted him upon waking up, however, was not his father. It was Flint, a gun in his hand and a hard look on his face. Alex's sudden hope that Flint was here to free him was squashed quickly at his sneer. He listened to Flint and their father argue up in the living room about where to keep him for hours−something about Jesse grabbing him too early, before things were ready−before Flint came to get him. He'd learned his lesson from last time, because he stayed out of range of Alex's zip-tied hands the whole way out of the house. Alex nearly fell down the stairs at least three times because of the dizziness, and threw up, with some satisfaction, on his father's shoes.

It's been days, but he's still dizzy and nauseous all the time, and the killer headache is a constant companion.

Greg's hands are on him, checking him over. He finds one of the bumps on his head and Alex flinches away, almost overbalancing off the mattress when the cuff on his wrist pulls him back. “Are you alright?” Greg murmurs. Alex nods, and immediately regrets it as it sends a spike of pain down his spine.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Greg?” Flint growls. For once, he doesn't have his gun in his hand. Alex realizes that it's because the gun is tucked in Greg's waistband and he frowns, trying to keep it in his line of sight just in case. He thinks Greg actually cares, that he's not in on this with Flint and their Dad, but if he's not, why is he here?

“Now that's a real funny story,” Greg smirks mirthlessly. “Why don't you sit down, Flint?” He formulates it as a question, but it's obviously an order. And in a situation where there's only one gun, ranks don't matter much. Greg is out of the Navy and Alex outranks both of them anyway. Flint slowly drops to the floor, just outside the mattress, and crosses both his legs and his arms petulantly.

“See, yesterday morning, I got a call,” Greg stars. “It's the funny thing about being the only one in our family Alex trusts enough to list as next of kin. You get these calls. I got one before,” he nods to Alex's leg. “No, two, actually. There was that one time−” Alex glares at him and he rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, back to the point. I was told that Alex had been AWOL for 72 hours, and they were looking for him.”

Alex winces. Of course he already knows that crawling this way out of this one, even if everything ends well and no one dies, is going to be impossible. Being AWOL will earn him jail time, which is already bad, but if they start looking into his recent activities out of suspicion...well, he hopes to God that Liz has really emptied the lab, or things will get a hell of a lot more complicated.

Speaking of Liz...

Helena Ortecho was a surprise. There's a kind of irony in there, that Alex would be more surprised at being held captive by a woman he hasn't seen in over a decade than by his own family. He wonders what Liz would think of Helena being a kidnapper−or of her being more motherly to him that he's ever seen her be to Liz and Rosa. She watched Flint tie him up to a radiator without a word and then brought him food and clothes that weren't covered in vomit and dust, even getting Flint to briefly untie him at gunpoint to get his arm through the sleeve. Alex might have tried to seize the opportunity to fight back if he'd been able to see straight.

“Now I'm a good brother, and I know there's no way Alex would go AWOL without a good reason,” Greg continues. “Especially the day after he drove to the rez with a bunch of suspicious people who are supposedly his friends, and tells me he thinks that Dad has changed.”

Flint huffs.

“Yes,” Greg nods. “Either our baby brother really is more naive than we thought, or something fishy is going on.” Alex rolls his eyes, and Greg just glares at him.

The last few days, after getting to the house, are even more fuzzy. Alex remembers trying to push the mattress against the wall to get a better range of movement, and Flint coldly making him pull it back. He remembers pulling off his prosthetic, his stump swollen and sore from too much time with it on, and then trying to hit Flint with it the next time he came by, which earned him what is probably a second concussion from the butt of his brother's gun. He doesn't really remember anything since then. From the stubble on his face, it's been at least three days, but time is wonky and his mind unreliable.

Which brings him to now, and now has Greg sitting beside him on the mattress. Alex tries to blink away the confusion and sit up properly, wincing when his stump moves on the mattress. Days without a shrinker will make it a bitch to get back into the prosthetic.

Greg shifts. “I took a family emergency day, since that seemed to be the case, and I drove to Roswell. I had to look up my own brother's address in the phone book,” he glares again.

Alex throws his free hand up. “Hey, you're the one who didn't want to come.” His voice is weak and hoarse from disuse, and Greg looks more concerned than chastened.

“Right. I broke in−sorry, Alex, I'll replace the lock if you want me to. Alex's house was empty but his suitcase was still waiting on his bed. So I looked up Isobel Evans.”

“Really? Isobel?”

Greg shrugs. “I don't know what's going on between you, Guerin and Maria, but I'm not getting in the middle of it. Besides, Isobel seemed the most sensible of all of you.”

“You're just attracted to her,” Alex mutters.

“Alex, the choice I had was her or her brother. I know you're gay, but would you really go to Max Evans first?”

“I see your point,” Alex concedes, though he's still really not sure “sensible” is the adjective he'd use to describe Isobel. His muddled brain can't seem to come up with a better one, though, so he lets it go.

“All Isobel could tell me was that no one had seen you since you came back from the rez, but she got everyone moving to find you. Guerin went at it with Dad, got him to admit that he got to you first and Flint took you from him. Don't ask me how, I don't know.”

Isobel, Alex thinks after he's parsed all this−with at least a thirty-second delay. Isobel must have gone into their Dad's head, he would never have told them that willingly. But Greg doesn't know about aliens and there's no way he'll risk telling Flint something he could use against them, so he keeps quiet.

“After that, it wasn't hard to follow Flint here from his place,” Greg finishes. “I disarmed him once I confirmed you were here.”

Flint grunts. Alex looks over at him, amused. He's never been the best at self-defense, even when they were kids, too easily overtaken by his temper.

“Now will someone explain to me what's going on here?” Greg straightens up more, in a stance that looks relaxed but Alex can feel is fully vigilant. He may be missing part of the story, but he's a force to be reckoned with.

Alex and Flint exchange a glance. Somehow even as they stand on opposite sides of this fight, this decision−tell Greg about the aliens or try to lie their way through some kind of resolution−comes down to them. “Where's Helena?” Alex asks.

“In town,” Flint answers, some of the confrontation gone from his tone. “She won't be back for a few hours.”

“Who's Helena?” Greg asks.

“Flint's accomplice,” Alex answers. “Ironically also my friends' mom.”

“Which friends?” Greg frowns.

“Liz and Rosa. You remember them?”

Greg nods. “Rosa was the girl in Flint's year who died, right? Her mom is helping you?” he asks Flint.

Flint shrugs and looks at Alex again, trying to communicate something silently. Alex doesn't bother figuring out what it is. His head isn't quite clear enough to see all of the implications, but he already knows that there's no way Greg will settle for anything short of the truth. And Greg has always been very good at reading his brothers.

Plus, Greg is in control here, and he's been more than sympathetic to Alex since his injury. This could come out well for Alex, so he won't let Flint turn this to his advantage.

“Dad tried to take me down because I've become an inconvenience to his little genocide plan,” he says before Flint can stop him. “Flint thinks he can use me to get Michael to build him a bomb.”

That's the little he's gathered from Flint's talk with Dad the other day, and from Flint and Helena's interaction. He has no idea where Helena comes into it or how she learned about aliens, but he knows Flint's motivations well enough. They've been clear since Caulfield.

“Wait, genocide? Bomb?” Greg spits out in shock. Then he shakes his head, as if realizing that he shouldn't be surprised. “What the fuck are you doing, Flint?”

“They're invaders,” Flint says. “They're dangerous.” He's looking at Alex rather than Greg, as if he's trying to convince him. Alex wonders if he's not still trying to convince himself. Dad's twisted ideas coming from Flint's mouth sound so perverted and out of place.

“They're people,” Alex shoots back.

“They're aliens!”

“They're refugees!”

“Whoa,” Greg throws up his arms. “Am I missing something obvious or did you suddenly become a racist asshole? Are you even hearing yourself?” he asks Flint. Flint has the good grace to look a little abashed.

“Literal aliens,” Alex mutters. “We're talking about actual aliens.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not even a little,” Alex sighs.

Greg closes his eyes. “Okay. Aliens. And Dad−”

“Wants to kill them all. Kept some of them prisoners for decades and experimented on them.”

Alex watches both Greg and Flint's face closely as he says that. Greg's is suitably horrified, but he doesn't know how to interpret Flint's expression. It's not disgust. It's not glee, either. He may be parroting Dad's rhetoric, but he's not lost to it.

“Dad was just trying to protect us,” he says. Not perfectly assured. The facade is cracking.

“Was?” Greg notices.

“He's been weaker, since the stroke.”

“You know he's faking the limp, right?” Alex asks.

A shadow goes through Flint's gaze. “Of course,” he says, but it's obviously a lie.

“Another lovely moment, finding out my father has been faking a disability for months when he hit me over the head with his cane,” Alex casually turns to Greg. Flint winces, glancing down at Alex's empty pant leg. “I love how well we communicate in this family.”

“Alex−” Flint starts.

“You don't get to say anything. You've been holding me chained up for days against my will. You've lost the right to tell me how great a family we are.”

“I'm still hung up over the alien thing, but I have to agree with Alex here,” Greg says. “What the fuck were you thinking, Flint?”

“He wants Michael to do something for him,” Alex says when Flint doesn't answer. “I don't even know why you'd think Michael will do anything. We're not together. And you're asking him to build a bomb designed to wipe out his entire species, Flint.”

“Wait, wait, Guerin's an alien?” Greg interrupts him.

“Yep,” Alex pops out the 'p'. “That's Dad's great threat to earth. Three orphan refugees who just want to live their life.”

“They're not alone,” Flint mutters, at the same time as Greg asks, “Three? Who else?”

“Max and Isobel Evans,” Alex smirks. The cat is out of the bag anyway, since Flint knows, and this little revenge feels good. Having one of his brothers on his side will feel good.

Greg blinks. “Okay,” he drawls out. “Let me get this straight. Guerin and the Evanses are aliens, even though they look just like us. And Dad knows about this, and wants to...wipe them out? And you're helping him?” he points to Flint.

“It's not just them,” Flint says. “We had specimens in Caulfield who could cause cancer with a simple touch, blow up whole buildings. They have dangerous powers.”

“And you have a gun,” Alex says. “How is it less dangerous than any of those powers? Powers, I should add, that Dad had no trouble using for his own agenda when it came to eliminating Jim Valenti.”

“Jim Valenti was killed by Subject N-38,” Flint frowns.

“And what, you think he went into his cell for fun? I have all the video surveillance, Flint. All the records. Decades of Dad and our grandfather randomly torturing people before going home for Sunday dinner.” From those surveillance tapes, he knows that Flint never had real contact with any of the prisoners. He never even went beyond the upper level, where he did the designs for his bomb. Alex spent hours and hours watching those tapes. “They're the same as us. Just people.”

“They want to wipe us out,” Flint says.

“They're my family,” Alex counters softly.

The shock on Flint's face would be comical, if it wasn't so painful. Greg's gaze on Alex is lost and sad. “They're more my family than you've ever been,” Alex adds for Flint.

He tries to mitigate that blow by putting a hand on Greg's arm, to show him that he doesn't mean him, but Greg shakes his head and gently moves away, guilt obvious on his face. Alex pushes through and leans his shoulder on Greg's, welcoming the support. His head is clearer now, but he's aching all over.

“Did you ever stop to think, when you were overseas?” he starts, his voice barely more than a whisper as he's trying to conserve some energy. “When you pointed your gun at insurgents or civilians or whoever it was that day you were ordered to contain or kill, did you stop and wonder who they were? If they had a life, too, a family? A brother?”

Flint looks away.

“Michael was the first person who really understood,” Alex continues. “He grew up in the system and he got the worse luck. He made me feel safe, for the first time since Mom left. He made me feel like I could get out of Roswell, escape Dad.”

“What happened?” Greg asks in a murmur.

“Dad found us,” Alex answers. “He didn't know what Michael was, but it didn't matter. He knew what I am. He started to choke me, and Michael tried to step in, so Dad took a hammer to Michael's hand.”

Neither of his brothers look shocked. Greg is clearly pained, and he drapes his arm around Alex's back in comfort, and Flint won't look at him, but they're not shocked. That's probably the saddest thing, that they all know exactly what Jesse Manes is capable of.

He waits until he's caught Flint's eyes again. “Michael's mother was in Caulfield,” he says. “He got to see her blow up with the building. He wanted to stay with her. He dreamed of going to college, but he stayed in Roswell because his sister needed him. He used to play the guitar while I sang, before Dad ruined his hand. That's the threat you're trying to eliminate, Flint.”

Flint swallows. “Did Dad really kill Jim?”

“I have the video on a secure network,” Alex nods. “We'd have to go to my place to show you, but yes. He did. I'm sorry,” he adds after a moment.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I'm sorry that Dad isn't the man you wish he was. I wished for something else for a long time, too.”

Flint stands up suddenly, and starts pacing. “I've read the reports,” he says. “The aliens attacked people when they arrived. And there's been thirteen murders in the last ten years done by aliens.”

Greg looks at Alex. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Alex sighs. “They're people. No worse than us, but also no better. We found the murderer. He's dead now.”

“We're talking about a serial killer, Alex!” Flint loses his cool. “What if they're all like that?”

“What if they aren't?” Alex yells back. He regrets it as the sound rings painfully inside his head. “Tell me how many times you've heard that same question asked about Native men, Flint.”

Flint opens his mouth, and closes it again. He paces the length of the room faster, giving the edge of the mattress a kick when he passes by.

Greg clears his throat. “Can we go back to the bomb? What the fuck is it?”

“It's not really a bomb,” Flint says. “It's a chemical agent, designed to eliminate people who have specific DNA strands.”

Alex can almost see the cogs turn in Greg's head. “How do you plan on dispersing it?”

“My team designed an atomizer,” Flint explains. He looks hesitant, like he knows he shouldn't be talking about that but he can't quite remember why. They've got through to him at least a little, Alex realizes. “I just need someone to build it.”

“Michael,” Alex explains for Greg's benefit. “He's a mechanic. And a genius.”

“So it's not a sanctioned mission,” Greg raises his eyebrows. “You and Dad have been working on this for...how long? Years? A Manes family mission to commit genocide?”

“We're doing what needs to be done,” Flint stops pacing and stands at attention.

“By fucking kidnapping Alex? Flint, did you stop even once to think about what you're doing?”

“They got into Alex's head. I'm doing this for his own good.”

Alex lets himself fall back until he's lying down on the mattress, prompting his brothers to look at him. His headache is getting worse, not better. “His words, in your mouth,” he tells Flint. “I expected that from Clay. Not from you. Have you forgotten everything, Flint? All of Granddad and Granny's history lessons?”

Flint looks away. Greg seems to seize the opportunity, and he stands up and grabs Flint's arm. “Let Alex go, Flint.”

“I can't.”

“Do you remember the last time we were all at the house together?” Greg lowers his voice, almost as if he doesn't want Alex to hear, but the room is small. “We promised we'd look out for him,” he nods toward Alex. “That we wouldn't let Dad get to him again.”

“He shouldn't have come back to Roswell,” Flint sets his chin stubbornly.

“Maybe not. But he's still our brother. We need to stop failing him.”

For the first time, Flint truly looks torn. “I'm trying to protect him from the aliens,” he says slowly.

“I think you and I both knows that's not who we need to protect him from,” Greg says.

Alex resists the urge to retort that he can protect himself−his current situation would tend to disagree, although he swears he'll free himself the minute his head stops swimming−and finds himself feeling oddly touched.

Flint looks down at his shoes.

“Let him go, Flint.”

“Fine,” Flint finally relents. He grabs a key from his pocket and tosses it to Alex, who scrambles to open the cuff around his wrist.

He eyes the gun in Greg waistband again, trying to figure out if it's worth making a go at it, but he decides to trust Greg. It's not like he can stand up, anyway.

“What now?” he asks.

“We should really get you to a hospital,” Greg says.

“No. I need to see that Michael's okay. And I need to stop their plan,” he waves at Flint, including Helena and his father as well. He gives Flint a defiant look. “I can't let you harm them.”

“I know,” Flint sighs. “Helena's gone to bring Guerin here.”

“Will you stand down?” Alex asks him. “Let me do what I have to do?”

“I won't try to harm you,” Flint holds his empty hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Or your family,” he adds reluctantly.

“Good.” Alex turns to Greg and holds a hand up to be helped into a standing position. “You have a phone? I'm going to need it.”

“Who put you in charge?” Greg asks, amused. “You have a concussion, Alex, you need medical care.”

“I know. I'm doing to call my doctor,” Alex answers. “After I call Michael, anyway. Anyone know where my leg is? We have a lot of work to do.”