#to risk being completely cut open; THREAD

[noobiestnoober]

Last Minute Leon (Leon X Reader)

When it comes to love, some people write poems. You? You dive headfirst into bioweapon-infested nightmares just to see if Leon S. Kennedy will show up with his signature smirk and a terrible pun. In this hilariously chaotic comedy/crack one-shot, you keep testing fate—and Leon’s patience—by staging the dumbest, most dangerous stunts imaginable. Will he always come to the rescue? Can one survive love and Umbrella’s traps at the same time? With flying kicks, fake kidnappings, and sushi plans on the line, one thing’s for sure: it’s never just another day with you.

There were a lot of things you could say about yourself. Bold. Daring. Maybe even slightly unhinged, depending on who you asked. But above all else, you were consistent—consistently putting yourself in the most absurdly dangerous situations just to see if Leon would actually show up every time like some gun-toting, government-issued Disney prince with an arsenal and perfectly timed slow-motion entrances. Today? Oh, today was no different.

You dangled upside down from a rope trap—again—in the middle of what looked like a half-collapsed, Umbrella-owned abandoned science lab. The place was straight out of a post-apocalyptic fever dream: flickering lights, ominous sirens, and several suspiciously intact glass tubes filled with questionable goo. Because of course it was.

"Note to self," you muttered aloud, blood rushing to your head as a loose wrench clanged to the floor. "Next time, skip Reddit threads titled '10 Toxic Ways to Test His Love.'"

From somewhere deep in the facility, you heard the click of tactical boots, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a door being kicked open. Leon S. Kennedy stormed in like a leading man who showed up late but insisted it was all part of the act.

Wind—there was always wind when Leon arrived, somehow—blew in dramatically, tousling his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Heard you were in a bit of a bind," he announced with a smirk that could probably be weaponized.

You groaned. "That pun hurt more than the rope burn."

With one smooth motion, he unsheathed his knife and cut the rope like it was warm butter. You landed on the ground with an unceremonious grunt, arms flailing.

"You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly used to this by now.

You dusted yourself off and gave a casual thumbs up. "Physically? Mostly. Mentally? I've had healthier coping mechanisms."

This wasn’t even the first incident this week. On Tuesday, you infiltrated a Plaga-infested chicken coop wearing feathers strapped to your back because, quote, “Leon needs to witness me in my avian prime.” On Thursday, you sold your own location to a black-market merchant under the condition that he reenact a hostage scenario—complete with rope, duct tape, and fake demands. Leon showed up with two pistols and one-liner energy to spare.

"You know, there are easier ways to get my attention," he said now, sliding a flash grenade into his jacket pocket purely for dramatic effect.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Yeah, but where’s the fun in not risking tetanus every time I flirt with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then gave that tired little smile—the one that screamed, “I should report you to HR but I’d probably follow you into a volcano first.”

You scooped up your slightly-burnt backpack and peeked through a cracked window.

"So… sushi after this?"

Leon tilted his head. "You just got nearly decapitated by a ceiling saw blade."

"Exactly," you said. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like dodging death and then drowning our trauma in soy sauce."

He sighed and checked his ammo. "Fine. But if I have to dive across a sushi conveyor belt to tackle a guy in a hazmat suit again, I swear I’m charging you hazard pay."

You saluted him with two fingers and a wink. "Deal. And I’ll even throw in a free wasabi dare. Bonus points if you don't cry."

As you both headed down yet another hallway littered with debris, flickering lights, and probably radioactive vending machines, you mentally mapped out your next big stunt. Helicopter ride. No doors. Just vibes. And maybe a flying kick for good measure. And, if he was lucky, you’d let him make another cheesy one-liner.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Eternal Night (Part 5/Finale)

Summary: After the destruction of Nostramo, Sevatar gets emotional and wants to see you.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, power imbalance, violence, predator/prey, stockholm syndrome, noncon

Word count: 2581

Song: She Wants Revenge - Sister

Still he pulled back the sheets And said, "You better lie down, 'cause the angels are watching," She closed her eyes and said, "Quit the talking You can hurt me, do whatever you like,"

Sevatar had long since left the captain's bridge. The legionnaires lowered their heads, trying not to look at the man. The serfs, almost crying and trembling with fear, fled to their holes. Even the most fearless brothers tried not to get in his way, feeling the wrongness and creepiness. It was as if his dark soul had found a way to spill out. The air shook with his Gift, which he could not contain due to strong feelings.

There was little that surprised or awed the First Captain. His mind worked differently. The man still remembered the Zoa Tower, which Shang called beautiful. Sevatar could not understand how one could define something or someone as beautiful. However, now he could fully realize this when he saw the destruction of the world.

Nostramo, a world without sun and law, was destroyed no more than an hour ago. But Sevatar still saw the destruction of the universe before him. What was created by the Galaxy over millions of years disintegrated in a matter of minutes. How the threads of life were cut, tectonic plates shifted, and magma flooded the planet like blood.

It was a wonderful sight.

A sight that haunted him even after the world was left in ash, the ships set off far from their home system. Even when the first captain gave the order to kill every dissenter at Nightfall. Be it mortal or space marine. The primarch's order was law and they had to obey.

His family had long since died, and distant relatives served the Night Lords right here. Besides, he never liked his hometown. Tall mines in which one had to work until exhaustion. The smell of adamantium and black clouds full of toxic rain. The only thing he will miss is the crows.

Sometimes the man regretted that he had not taken them with him on the ship the last time they were on Nostramo. But years of self-control and meditation helped him cope with the consequences of the Gift. And with you, he completely forgot about his curse for a while.

You. Your image immediately appeared in his head when the red glow of the burning world disappeared from his black eyes. Sevatar immediately realized that he wanted to share this moment with you. He wanted you to feel the same way he did. A man wouldn't risk taking you to the porthole. He only liked to see you in his chambers. But maybe you can see it in his eyes?

Sevatar slightly opens the door to his quaters and remains on the threshold, not daring to enter. You sat at the very end of the room, legs crossed and ears covered. Rocked like a child, hoping to calm down. You felt Nightfall being torn apart by the countless number of weapons that were used. Heard the despair of the planet being destroyed.

If you were a psyker, did you hear the screams and tears of the dying?

You feel how the air in the room is changing, how your hair is electrified from a strange sensation. As long as you dare to look at the returning man. Your eyes, filled with fear, light up with a spark of hope.

“Is it over?” - much to the space marine's disappointment, yes. Apparently his face spoke for him because your eyebrows immediately furrowed. - “Sevatar, are you fine?”

The last time anyone showed concern about his condition was his mother. Huh, Sevatar didn’t think about her for many years. It's not that he misses her. But you appeared and images of his mother hugging him in the hope of easing the pain began to emerge in his mind. You did it better.

“Yes, little mouse, I’m fine.” - the man succeeds before going inside, locking the door. - “Now finally help me take off this armor.”

You quickly jump up and rush to the space marine, attentivelly and extremely carefully helping the man remove the second skin. You are too weak for such weight, but your delicate fingers easily cling to the necessary parts, giving the man the opportunity to remove the armor. You both are silent, each thinking about your own.

“That chronicler that we hung at the entrance. What did she do? - the words cut through the silence like water through a stone. Sevatar was about to leave, having discussed all important matters with the primarch, but a question arose by itself. He didn't even understand why he asked it. But worst of all was Konrad Curze's smile.

“Oh, she took part of the report on Piamen joining the Imperium. To make a list of questions and write a book. But without asking my permission and taking away important documents, theft was committed. The criminal deserved her punishment.”

Sevatar raises an eyebrow at the primarch's excuses. Not that he regretted the death of the annoying remembrancer. He didn’t care, besides, an order is an order, it must be carried out. It was just that he was partly amused by Curze's attempts to justify his thirst for violence as a noble act. The Night Lords were justice, but there was no point in denying their dark desires.

“Be that as it may, everything turned out only in your favor.” - pointed teeth stretch to their full length, like a crescent moon. - “No more keeping track of a useless crew member. And you began to sleep more often, didn’t you?”

“Are you scared?” - you nod confusedly and the man chuckles. He shouldn't have asked such an obvious question. Even though you were safe and began to perceive Nightfall more as a home, you were still an ordinary serf girl. For whom Cheraut Incident is akin to the end of the world.

The fact that Konrad Curze almost killed his brother, after which he hastened to hide in his native system, raised trepidation among mortals. The Night Lords were only too happy to mock their cousins, but even they were surprised at such a sharp attack from the primarch.

All the time on the way to Nostramo, the ships languished from human fear and the gloomy anticipation of the space marines. Opportunities to bring justice to their home world. Final and irrevocable judjment at the cost of billions of lives.

“The whole planet was thundering. And people screamed so much. I think I can still hear them crying. Or maybe my imagination is running wild, I-I don't know. I never would have thought that one of the worlds of the Imperium would fall in this way.” - you pull your head into your shoulders, putting the last detail back in place, realizing what you just said. - “Beg your pardon, my lord.”

“Hmm, it’s even a pity that you were hiding here. Seeing the whole world die is an unforgettable feeling. Especially if you came from it. Imagine if Terra was also destroyed.” - Sevatar grins, enjoying your surprised look.

“B-but that won’t happen, the Emperor won’t allow it.” - you were so frightened by the very thought of destroying the heart of the Imperium that you began to contradict your master. But Sevatar was in a good mood and he even liked your hope, flimsy as dirt.

The first captain doesn't answer you. Doesn't know what to say to this. If the Emperor so wishes, Terra can be destroyed in a matter of minutes. Or, on the contrary, the Legions would line up to protect the planet. But first and foremost, Sevatar served Konrad Curze. He was ready to carry out his orders first and foremost. Like now they have already destroyed the world. Their former home.

The man sits down on the bed, not taking his eyes off you. You fiddle with your hands, not daring to approach Sevatar until he gives you an order. Obedient girl. As you promised, you served him well and he appreciated it. Maybe he should have sent you to bed or touched your tattoo again as usual.

But today Sevatar was overwhelmed with feelings and he realized that this was not enough. He needed more. He didn't know what exactly he wanted from you. However, the desire to devour you took hold with incredible force as soon as he remembered the death throes of Nostramo.

The man pats the bed next to him. Sevatar chuckles as your eyes widen. Just like a crow. It's not that you were afraid, but the first captain's behavior was unusual. Even if he cares about you, the unknown is always scary. Especially on the Night Lords' ship.

You purse your lips and hesitantly approach the bed before lowering yourself onto it. The air filled with heat. The man continues to study you, not knowing what to do with you next. Until an idea comes to mind. Spontaneous and foreign, but it’s just right for a space marine. After all, why not satisfy his curiosity.

“Take off the top.” - you shudder, unable to understand the order. But your hands still reach for his shirt, as soon as Sevatar frowns. His voice drops, almost sounding like metal scraping. - “I won’t repeat it. Strip.”

You quickly remove the cloth, trying not to anger your master, looking at him carefully. Waiting like little prey to see what the predator's next move will be. But the snap of man's fingers pull you out of thoughts and you almost whimper, removing the fabric covering your breasts. You want to hide from the examining gaze, hug yourself with my arms. But you don’t do this, unable to move.

And Sevatar looks at you, unable to understand his train of thought. And why did he order you to do this? The body is like a body, ordinary mortal skin, on which it is easy to leave bruises (he can already see a couple) and easy to remove. The flesh is soft in comparison. Two bulges that reveal your femininity. Nothing special, he had seen naked bodies more than once in skinning pits.

But he can't turn his back on you. Something about you touches him. Sevatar clenches his teeth, almost growling. You cower, finally covering yourself, as if in one moment the man will tear you apart. In part, that's what he really wanted to do. Sink his teeth into the flesh, tear out pieces of meat, bury himself in your hair and remain in your scraps for an eternity.

Hearts sound loud and fast, echoing in a man’s head as he moves closer to you. Unwanted thoughts take over the mind, throwing all irrationality to the wind. He must touch you. He must tear you apart. Should kill you. Must be inside.

You can hardly breathe when a heavy hand touches your shoulder, caressing the tattoo. But this time Sevatar doesn’t turn you around with your back to him. Quite the opposite. With his other hand, the Space Marine throws your arms off your breast and presses your waist to him. The little heart is beating fast like a mouse caught in the clutches of a beast. The cheeks warm with the realization that the man is wearing only a loincloth.

The silence is abruptly interrupted by your short scream as Sevatar sinks his teeth into the line connecting the shoulder and neck. He was too cautious and careful so that you wouldn't break. But it still hurt you. The man licks your wound, enjoying your sobs. He fixes his gaze on you, hoping to see your suffering. And freezes.

Your eyes are wet, your mouth is slightly open. You were hurt, but there was something else in your face. Soft and gentle, long forgotten and buried in the depths of the minds of the Night Lords. But even as a mortal boy, Sevatar cannot remember a similar look. Only his mother looked at him like that, but still there was a difference. You didn't see him as a son.

You raise your hands and run your fingers over Sevatar's shoulders. Tender, fragile fingers that have never known hard work, have never held a weapon in their hands. Until you finally lock them behind his neck. You press your whole body against him so that he can feel your breasts.

For the first time in a long time, the man's breathing becomes unbearable. But not from pain, as usually happens in battle or because of the Gift. Sevatar would even say that he feels better than ever. His hearts began to beat even faster, and heat rushed through his body. You hissed in pain, feeling the hot skin beneath you. But you still clung to him.

“I can break you.” - he won't kill you. He won't let anyone hurt you. Any man who dares to look at you or speaks to say goodbye to his life. - “I am your master. And you are mine. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

He didn't like to share. Never lived in the slums of the night city. Not now, when he took the place of first captain. If he wanted something (and this rarely happened), he devoured it without leaving a trace. The Terminators were loyal only to him. And you. You should have given yourself to him too.

Sevatar watches with a sigh as your eyes fill with tears, rolling down your cheek. He instinctively licks them, touching your cheeks with his tongue and lips. Your eyes. And your lips. The last part of the body especially touched his nerves, but the man restrains himself so as not to rip out your lower face with his teeth.

“Do whatever you like.” - you pronounce the cherished words with a breath and a groan. Before fearfully and hesitantly rushing towards the pale face of the killer holding you captive. Your lips touch the scar on your chin. - "I'm yours."

You're a good girl. You are very very good. It’s even a pity that you fell into the hands of a beast who can barely control himself. Which knows only how to kill, cut and torture. But he will learn. And may it always hurt you, you will enjoy it just like now.

Sevatar tilts you until your head hits the pillow. The man settles on top of you, squeezing your waist and shoulders. He runs his fingers over the tattoo. He remembers, no, he studies what has eluded him all these years. What he was deprived of as an Astartes.

His hand lands on one of your breasts and squeezes, making you squeak, digging your nails into his shoulders. A bloody grin runs across Sevatar’s face, causing drops of your own blood to fall on your face. His hips move against yours on their own, as if imitating a process erased from his code.

This is only an imitation perverted by chemical treatment. And even so, Sevatar realizes a simple truth. He wants to be inside. He wants to take his sword and plunge it into you up to the hilt. He wants to fill you up so that liters of blood pour out of you.

Sevatar peers into your face before burying his nose in your shoulder with a groan. The whole body and mind are overwhelmed by a contradictory feeling of peace and rage, merging into a strange symbiosis. There is a confession on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say, but he can’t because he doesn’t know what the words are. Only one thing comes to mind.

“Call me Jago.” - the man almost closes his eyes from the coming sleep. Ahead there was only eternal night .

“This means?”

“Yes.”

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Five

~

His office felt weird. New York felt weird. Even being with Cassie felt weird. Leo was so groggy in his real life that sometimes, when he was washing his face or sitting in a meeting or grabbing a bagel for lunch, he wondered if he had just been sleeping that whole time with Finn and Logan. He wouldn’t put it past himself to dream up something like that. Leave it to him to think making dinner for two of the biggest names in the music industry was a daydream. And the kissing, of course, but he spent far more time thinking about salt water in Finn’s hair and the way Logan looked walking around the markets. It was all smeared gold in his mind. And then there were the dirty dreams which he kept accidentally thinking about in meetings.

The article was going to lead this month’s issue, which meant it would come out right as Finn and Logan started up their tour again. A crew was being sent out to Nice for the cover shoot and Leo had been so jealous when he found out that he’d had to excuse himself from the meeting for a moment. He missed them. He probably scrolled through their messages too much.

The thread started when Leo had settled into a cab and opened the app to text them that he’d landed, only to find an incoming FaceTime call interrupting him. Leo had saved their numbers under their initials—as if that would really fool anyone. So, when Finn’s first FaceTime had popped up, he’d been more than surprised to find difficult little rock star calling him instead, complete with a photo that Finn seemed to have taken himself—him and Logan basking in the sun, hair wet from the ocean and cheeks smushed together.

Leo had answered with, “and what’s Logan saved under then?”

Finn had just grinned and ran off screen—presumably to grab Logan’s phone because a second later, Leo got a text of !! from grumpy<3

Leo figured that was subtle enough to keep. He’d pushed his headphones into his ears and let Finn’s voice fill his head as the city rose up and greeted him in its sunset.

Somehow, without so much as a ripple, talking to them had started feeling like talking to old friends. Once a day. Twice a day. Photographs of their lunches and messy work spaces in between. When Leo received his fist voice memo, he’d had to lock himself in the bathroom at work and breathe a few times before hitting play.

“Hi, Le,” Finn’s voice said. “Okay—we’re writing today. Lo, hello, say hi.”

“Hi, hey,” Logan said, then let out a wicked cough. “Sorry, Finn made me do one of those ginger shots and I’m in hell.”

Leo covered his laugh with his hand.

“Shut up, it’s good for you,” Finn replied. “Okay, anyway. So, this is called—oh, I’m gonna be on the piano. But this is—and I’m gonna try to play it straight through.”

“Stop interrupting yourself,” Logan said, then it sounded like he got closer to Finn’s phone. “It’s called Neon Signs and it’s off of the new album, and we know your editor wanted you to hear one more song for the piece so—ouais. Go, Finn.”

“I was going to say I’m on the piano and on the album it’s also piano. So. There.” He laughed and played a few chords. “Okay. It’s about one of the times when we almost got together, but we didn’t. We were at a bar that we weren’t old enough for.”

“And Finn got us stuck outside because they wouldn’t let us back in,” Logan said.

“Fool them once, and all that,” Finn cut in.

“It was freezing.” Logan’s voice, then a pause. “And I kissed him.”

“Again,” Finn said, laughing. “Anyway, spoilers. Here we go.”

There were a few seconds of dead air. Just Finn breathing. Leo pressed his headphones against his ears and kicked up his volume in time to hear Logan whisper something in French and Finn hush him.

I wanted you to meet me outside.

We’re not old enough to drink, no, not quite.

And leaving this bar means risking getting stuck out in the cold.

But I said ‘follow me’ you said ‘all right.’

Pulling up your hood against the frost bite.

And now that we’re here, there are too many things I want you to know.

But somehow I can tell tonight is not when you’ll be told

That just the look of you beneath that neon sign

Sure is something to behold…

It’s soft and blue…

Like me and you…

Maybe I’ll do this forever,

Only kiss me when it’s snowing.

Cause at least it isn’t never,

Though I can’t see where we’re going.

If only that light from that neon sign

Made you see me

Just as brightly

Oh God

Where’s my,

Neon,

Bar sign?

One that you can read.

Put it over me.

Bathe me in signals and the arrows pointing where I want to lead.

“Oh,” Leo said softly to himself—reacting to the lyrics, but also to Finn’s piano. It was a meandering, sad tune. As if even the music wasn’t sure what its next note would be. The song took them out of winter next and through to summer. Into humidity, and strings lights and patios and dorm rooms, sweltering with the door closed and no AC. A goodbye—was this them going to college? And it was Logan singing. Fall and desperate for something to last. Finn fumbled a little on the piano, cursed softly, and despite the next sad lyric, Leo could hear Logan smiling. Instead walked into my own past. You’re sitting on the bed and I’ve never felt less or more alone.

Leo listened to it four times. It was hypnotizing. Yes, he knew the story. He’d been given the precious task of telling the story—but they were telling it, too.

Meanwhile, the article was going through drafts and drafts. He’d fought hard to keep the section about Logan’s market in. His editor hadn’t seen the relevance, and maybe Leo’s relevance wasn’t entirely music-based, but those markets were in the songs. Maybe not in so many words, but Logan was as gentle as his voice could be when he was there. He stood still in that space, listening to the rhythm and thrum of the people around him.

Sending cover shoot to you without me :/ Leo typed out.

Finn replied almost instantly: I’ll refuse to pose until you arrive.

Then Logan: I will lock them out.

Ha, Leo wrote.

No Ha. It’s my house.

I’m at the office—in the final meeting for the article. He thought for a second, then smiled as he typed out. Everyone’s so happy for you.

You are coming to our first show, Logan typed out, and then a few seconds later, ? accompanied it, as if Finn had forced it out of him.

I’m coming to a show. Not sure when yet, Leo said. I’m on another project and have to finish it up before—

His eye caught on his phone’s clock. Jesus. He’d been in here for ten minutes texting like a teenager between classes. Before what? Before I can come back to you. Before I can come home, before I can come back because I miss you.

The thrill that came from being able to know he missed them because he knew them was strong.

—before I can make it, he finished. Have to go back to meeting now

Finn sent him five rows or pink hearts, Logan said, we miss you, and Leo sat back down in his meeting with a smile on his face that earned him weird looks. Cassie stared at him until someone asked her a question.

~

“Okay, so you’re gonna spill all your beans now.” Cassie jabbed him gently with her fork at lunch. “Like. Right now.”

“I don’t have beans.” Leo tilted his bowl to her. “This is my mama’s chicken salad recipe. Want some?”

Cassie groaned. “Just tell me why you’re grinning at your phone like an idiot every chance you get!”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you are.”

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“Yes, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cassie grabbed onto his arm. “Tell me.”

“I’m excited for them,” Leo said. “That’s all. I’ve always looked up to them, and this is a big deal.

“So we are talking about Finn and Logan?”

Leo froze, caught. “Oh.”

It wasn’t his fault. They filled every little space of his mind. And if there was somewhere they couldn’t reach, they pressed up against that part, all warm and insistent.

Cassie threw her head back and squealed. “Leo. Tell me, tell me—”

“Oh-ho my God, they kissed me.”

Cassie stared at him, voice cutting off. Leo slapped his hands over his own mouth.

“You don’t know that,” Leo said quickly, just as Cassie made a soft, breathy sort of screeching sound.

“Wh-at?” she set her fork down with exaggerated precision. “What did you just say?”

Leo glanced around the courtyard they were in, but they were alone. In the shade, sun dappling down on them, and alone.

“They?” Cassie’s hand on his sleeve twisted the fabric. “They kissed you?”

He hadn’t meant to say a word, but the knowledge was like a fire inside of him. Being wanted like this. Being wanted by them.

Cassie started laughing, surprised and delighted. “Leo.”

“Yeah, they—apparently, um.” Leo shook his head. He didn’t even know how to say this. “They’ve been tracking my career since I just had the blog, and we were out by the fire pit and we almost—but we didn’t. And then we talked and I told them about Jack—sort of.”

Cassie’s blue eyes went wide at that, but she stayed quiet.

“And they sort of got why I was saying no.”

“You said no?”

“At first, at first.” Leo pushed his lunch away and dropped his voice. “Okay, okay, okay, sworn to secrecy.”

She squealed again through a shut mouth and hit him repeatedly in the arm.

“So, Nice,” Leo said. “Logan’s house.”

“Yeah, fuck you, by the way, meant nicely but with jealousy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But, so that night happened where they made the move a bit—”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mm, hard to explain. They were actually—” Leo’s laugh interrupted his words. “They were so bad at it.”

“Finn O’Hara is bad at making the moves?”

“Only when he means it, apparently.”

Cassie’s waved him on. “Okay, more, I need more.”

“So, we talked it out at the markets.”

“Ah. That’s why you like those sections so much. It’s all coming together.”

“Shut up.”

“And they kissed you there?”

“No,” Leo said. “Logan kissed me, just once, and um…” Leo bit back a grin. “And then later, Finn. Mostly because—I mean we said we’d take it slow and Logan was just keeping that promise, but I may have lost some resolve with Finn because—fuck, because.”

“He’s Finn O’Hara,” Cassie said. “I think ‘fuck, because’ is a fine reason.”

“And that’s when he said they want me to come back once I’m off their project. I mean, I know I have the follow up piece but…then I’ll be done.”

Cassie had her chin in her palm, the way she sometimes did when she was thinking. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She sat up straight. “Both…of them?”

Leo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Honestly, I haven’t been even…feeling strange about that. Is that weird?”

“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I mean, not if it’s working. You’re not, like…jealous?”

“No,” Leo answered. It was the truth. “I know I probably should be.”

“They are basically high school sweethearts,” Cassie said. “Like, this article, the way you describe them…That’s soulmate shit right there. I don’t mean you don’t fit with them, I’m just…”

“I know where you’re coming from, but…” Leo sighed, smiling. “And I went there, too, but it’s just not like that. I like the way they are together. The way they treat each other. I like it as much as I like the way the are with me.”

“Holy shit,” Cassie said, then laughed. “Oh man.” She pushed her lunch aside in favor of pulling her laptop out of her bag. “Holy shit, holy shit, which show do you want? Which show, Le, I want to book that all out right fucking now.”

“It’s one night.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be a hell of a night.”

Leo reached forward and grasped her hand. “Don’t even joke about that with me, I’m a wreck.”

“Yeah, well, you need all the help you can get. You were there for, what, three weeks, and you just kissed?”

“I am—”

“No, I commend you, cowboy, you just have eons more willpower than I do.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Now, which show?”

Leo had been thinking about it. Of course he’d been thinking about it. He pictured them in different cities. Walking different streets. But, in the end, there was no question. Leo wanted to be where they had figured everything out. Maybe they’d figure out each other, too.

“Italy,” Leo said. “I want Italy.”

~

He was nervous to see them, that was for sure. Cassie always followed through on her work quickly, but Leo felt like he had blinked through being home before he was staring down at an empty suitcase again. Italy. Milan. It would be warm. He’d be there for a week. Something casual for the shows. Something nice for press events. Something comfortable for…mornings? He stared in his underwear drawer for too long. When was the last time he’d had to care what he looked like in his underwear, much less what his underwear looked like. That turned into staring at his t-shirts for too long, only to pick up his Heartthrob O’Hara t-shirtand fold it into his suitcase. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and googled Logan Tremblay t-shirt. They weren’t that good. Grainy photos just plastered on fabric. He typed in Night Swimming lyric t-shirt. There were hundreds, but Leo had fun scrolling. He’d probably added too many things to his cart when he finally found what he was looking for. The shirt was white with four words in forest green on it.

OH MY

GREEN EYES

Leo bit back a smile and ordered it to be delivered tomorrow.

The next night, he was cooking dinner and squinting at his iPad, when the recipe webpage disappeared in favor of an incoming call.

“Milan?” Logan asked when Leo answered.

“Yep,” Leo said. He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Is that okay?”

“That’s longer,” Logan said.

“I know,” Leo sighed. “But it’s when I’m in between projects and can write your follow up.”

Finn mirrored his position, squeezing into the frame beside Logan. “Why don’t you come here right now? I’ll write you a note, get you out of school. Photoshoot tomorrow, you can watch us kiss on camera.” Finn snuck a hand out to grab Logan’s chin when he wasn’t looking and turned his face to kiss him, even if Logan was smiling too much to make it last.

Leo leaned forward. “I…As tempting as that is...”

“I liked it when we were your job,” Finn shot back. “You were around all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Not me,” Leo said. Finn blinked, and Leo fought a smile because he’d got him. “Kissing subjects is…”

“Fun?” Finn said. “A right we may exclusively reserve?”

Logan looked over at him with a smile and Leo was tempted to take a screenshot. He didn’t know how that would go over. He’d never taken a photograph of them himself. He knew that spooked some celebrities. In the beginning, he’d thought he’d die if he offended them. He still felt like that a bit.

“Shut up,” Logan said to Finn. “We don’t want to be Leo’s subjects.”

“I was kidding.”

“Listen,” Leo said. “It’s a right you can reserve, I’d just prefer you do it as you and not as Night Swimming.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He put his palm over the camera briefly, as if they had shaken on it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking dinner.” Leo said, mimicking Finn’s sing-song—and then realized he’d basically just sung in front of Finn and tried to forget about it. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to come back,” Logan said.

Leo arched a brow. “To cook you dinner?”

“Non,” Logan laughed. He rested his chin on a palm, and Leo got basically an entire screen full of those green eyes looking over—him, he realized. Logan’s gaze darted over his face like he could do it for hours. “Other things.”

Heat washed over him, and Leo bit his lip. “Hmm…Play me more songs?”

“Can do, Sunshine,” Finn said.

They kept him company while he finished cleaning up, taking him through the packet they’d been sent concerning their photoshoot tomorrow.

“We’re doing it down by the sea,” Finn said. He was lounging on the couch, Logan at his feet holding a cup of tea. “And some house shots.” He tapped the leather couch. “Probably right here. Or the kitchen…Well, if it’s the kitchen, I know what I’ll be thinking about.”

Leo laughed as he shut his dishwasher. “Yeah, that kitchen gets a lot of action when I’m there.”

“Not when I’m there,” Logan said.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Finn said, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “We’ve got a pretty good track record in Italy, don’t we?”

~

Leo didn’t sleep much that night. He usually didn’t before a flight. Something about the anticipation. Not that this was bad anticipation. He let himself drift and think, rather than fall and worry. Still awake, but lighter. The story was out of his hands now, gone to turn into paper and ink. He would write his follow up, but then…

Just three people, Finn had said. Just three people.

On his nightstand, his phone lit up his dark ceiling. Leo turned his head. There weren’t many people who could get through his Do Not Disturb. Part of him got nervous, wondering if something was wrong, and he propped himself up on an elbow quickly, pulling the phone off its charger.

you’re awake

Three words, soft as a whisper. From Logan. Just Logan.

A moment later came the ?

Leo rolled onto his back, grinning.

are you spying on me somehow?

Finn said you have trouble sleeping, came the reply.

I do sometimes, Leo sent. And then, do you not like question marks or something?

I just thought I was right

Leo laughed out loud, all to himself.

well, I am awake.

are you okay? Logan asked.

Yeah. Just thinking.

A bit of a pause, just long enough to make Leo bite his lip.

about what?

Leo typed his reply out slowly, carefully. Savoring getting to say these words. Getting more than one kiss from you.

An immediate reply. maybe I won’t ruin it this time

Leo smiled. I think the last thing you did was ruin it.

:)

God. Smiley faces from Logan Tremblay.

go to sleep so you get here faster, Logan wrote. or just get here now.

Job—remember?

:(

Leo laughed again. I do have a surprise for you when I get there.

what is it? Logan asked immediately.

“Classic,” Leo whispered to himself, but just sent a smiley in return. Then, after a moment’s thought—

goodnight, green eyes

~

The article, when it came out, was hot as lightning. The photographs were gorgeous. Natural. They turned into each other like puzzle pieces, dressed in the muted, gentle browns of the house, and then the bright jewels of green and blue. But it was the opening show that came after it that caused the storm.

Leo didn’t get a single bit of work done—but neither did Cassie, so it was fine. He had never watched a grainy live stream closer and made Cassie go out and get him lunch so he didn’t have to get up. He brought his phone to the bathroom with him. He’d never refreshed Twitter so many times to find new photographs and videos. Finn, getting a pride flag thrown up to him at one point. The moments when they shared the microphone now sometimes ended in a kiss. A kiss. Leo was laughing and choked up all at once. Logan’s hat said rouge.

“Is there a reason you didn’t choose that show?” Cassie asked.

He’d thought about it. Being there. He could have gotten out of work—not in a I’m sort of kind of dating them and suddenly I miss them every second please let me go way but in a…this is important for the follow up way. But. He hadn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“This is a long time coming for them,” Leo said carefully, and found it true. “This is something they thought they’d never have. It’s theirs. And I wanted them to have it more than anything.”

Cassie’s eyes softened. She’d wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “They better know how lucky they are if they’re getting you.”

Leo smiled and tilted their heads together, turning back to the show.

“Well, fuck,” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium as he sat down at the piano. “You guys know what song’s coming by now, I guess.”

Rooftop, Leo thought, and shushed Cassie so harshly that she rolled her eyes and knocked him lightly on the shoulder.

Logan was still on stage, though, and getting up from behind his set. Leo’s heart leapt right into his throat.

“Something’s happening,” Leo said. “Something’s happening.”

“You shush,” Cassie said.

“Or at least you thought you did,” Finn said, then leaned back and laughed, the microphone barely catching it over the answering cheers. Logan crossed the stage, taking his time. Finn made room for him on the piano bench seat and Logan slotted perfectly against his side.

“No, look,” Finn played a few chords. “Rooftop has a special place in my heart, but it’s no part of tonight. Tonight…” He looked at Logan. “Tonight how about a little duet, Tremblay?”

Leo knew these chords. He loved these chords. And now, he could think of the lyrics that were about to come. They were probably some of the first words written about both of them letting themselves have each other…It was perfect. The crowd knew the song, too, and they were manic when Logan started playing the piano’s lower register, almost like a bass to Finn’s higher, softer melody.

A crew member brought out a second microphone and fixed it over the piano. Logan thanked him with a nod, and leaned in.

“You should have seen Finn trying to teach me piano,” his voice echoed.

Leo leaned closer to the screen. “Oh my God.”

Cassie sorted. “You’re so smitten.”

“They’re playing Keep.” 

“Yes, I know, I am a fan, too!”

I see you in the morning staring out over the waves.

I find I don’t need my instincts, never thought I’d see the day.

I could just roll over, yeah, I could close my eyes,

Cause I don’t have to grasp at glimpses, no, I’ve got my whole life.

I’ll tell anyone who asks, 

“Harmony, harmony,” Cassie said, imitating Leo’s accent.

Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and put his palm over her mouth. But she was right. The harmony, Logan joining in on the chorus, was exquisite.

I’ll show anyone who wants to see.

Like sea glass, or pebbles found on the beach.

Oh God, look at what I get to keep.

I’ll hold it as long as my breath lasts.

I’ll say it in all the languages they speak.

Like histories or songs sung while out at sea,

Hey Sunshine, what do you say you keep me?

Cassie made a strangled noise before Leo could. She pulled Leo’s hand away from her mouth.

“Sunshine? He just—They just changed the lyrics,” Cassie said. She got her arms around Leo’s waist and shrieked, making everyone in the office look at them. “He changed the lyrics.”

Leo was going to melt into his keyboard. Or cry? No. He was going to love them.

“I see you in the kitchen just before we go to sleep—” Finn gave his head a little, sharp shake, smiling, and when he looked up, Leo saw that he was crying, unable to sing through it. The crowd filled in. I find I don’t need my instincts, you are mine to keep.

Leo touched his lips lightly. Leo wouldn’t forget that sound, the stadium singing for them like that, even through a video. Not ever. He wouldn’t forget the feeling of knowing how much Finn and Logan deserved it. And how much he wanted them to have this. And how sweet is was when Logan played the last note, Finn wrapping an arm around him and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, and Logan catching Finn’s tears with a gentle hand.

Finn found one of the stadium cameras, touched a hand to his mouth, and held it out.

Oh God, Leo was going to really love them.

~

Leo could feel the change in the air the moment he stepped of his airplane. Humid, but light. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-down and put his sunglasses on as he stepped into the warm afternoon. He was a little groggy from his flight, but not too bad. He was hungry, though, and in desperate need of a coffee—which he was most certainly in the right place for.

“Mr. Knut?”

Leo turned, pulling his suitcase up to his side. A man was standing there, sleek in a light gray suit and a driver’s cap. He had a neatly tripped gray beard, kind eyes, and a light British accent.

“Yes?” Leo said. “Oh, are you—”

“Mr. Tremblay’s driver, yes. Ralph, it’s a pleasure.” Ralph motioned towards his suitcase. “Might I take care of that for you, sir, on the way to the car?”

“Oh, no, that’s all right,” Leo said. “But thank you. It’s nice enough of him to send you to get me. Very kind.”

“Yes, he was very keen. This way, sir.”

Leo followed him the short distance to the car park, remarking on the weather just because he wasn’t used to being called sir. Ralph was kind about it, offering small talk right back. The car was shiny and black, the windows so dark and opaque that Leo guessed that was why Logan used it. He stored his suitcase and laptop bag and stuttered around Ralph opening his door for him.

“Oh, wow—thanks so much.”

“Of course, sir.”

Leo slid into the smooth, leather seat. The whole car smelled new. There was a water bottle waiting for him in the door side pocket, nestled into a tortoise shell cup holder. Leo took his sunglasses off just as the door shut—

And then someone was grabbing onto his shirt and tugging. An insistent, warm mouth covered his, swallowing Leo’s sound of surprise.

Logan. The warm, pine scent of him. The feeling of canvas when Leo made to touch his hair. The weight of him swinging a leg over Leo’s lap. Callouses on his hands where they smoothed up Leo’s neck.

“Hello,” Leo gasped. “Fuck.”

“Hi.” Logan barely said the word before he was kissing him again. Leo had to let his head rest back against the seat he was so dizzy with it. His mouth probably tasted sour, he was probably sweaty, maybe he even smelled from the plane, but Logan didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s—”

“Sound check,” Logan gasped, and then he had Leo’s bottom lip gently between his teeth, pulling and letting go. “He’ll be at the hotel by the time we get there.”

“You don’t need—your sound checked?”

“I need this.”

From his place on Leo’s lap, Logan put a hand on the ceiling. For a moment, Leo wondered what the hell he was in for in the back of this car, but Logan’s fingers found a button that he pushed and up a partition between them and Ralph began to rise.

“Hotel, sir?” Ralph asked as the sheet rose.

“Merci,” Logan confirmed, and then the partition cut them off in a muffled, tinted-window bubble of their own making and Logan’s hungry green eyes were all Leo was left with.

Their breathing sounded loud to Leo’s ears. He got his first good look at Logan. White t-shirt, black cotton shorts. Green hat, backwards. Tan, gorgeous, just like Leo remembered him, but even more real. A small scratch on his cheek from somewhere. He’d cut himself shaving on his chin, a little red dot. Leo reached up and took off his hat, letting his bangs fall forward in their gentle waves. They were pretty light from all the sunshine.

“Can he…” Leo whispered. “Can Ralph hear us?”

Slowly, Logan shook his head.

Leo reached up and tucked his fingers through Logan’s hair. He could have lived off of the way Logan’s eyes slipped closed. “How long is the drive?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Hm.”

Logan’s smile looked like one of his soft, lulling songs. “What does that mean?”

Leo didn’t answer. He’d been taken by surprise, but that was fading now. All it left behind was want and relief. For now, he was done with the distance and the florescent lights of his office. He was back in Logan’s arms.

Thirty minutes felt like five. Logan’s soft sounds filled him right up as Leo kissed his neck—that was when Ralph’s gentle knock from the driver’s seat came. Leo broke off, startled. His mouth felt puffy—and good. Logan’s warm weight felt like the only thing holding him together.

“Ouais,” Logan called. “One moment.”

As Logan leaned their foreheads together, the world filtered back in. Leo became aware of the sound of a crowd outside, and had to laugh.

“Are we about to be photographed?”

“Probably a little,” Logan said. “It’s okay. You wouldn’t believe how many times Finn and I have had this happen.”

“What, got a little heavy in the car?”

Logan grinned, ducking to kiss Leo again. “Mhm.”

“That’s…” Really hot.

Logan slid off his lap, back to his side. They both spent a moment trying to pull themselves together. Logan would have to get out first, which made Leo feel a little better.

“They’ll bring your bags to the room,” Logan said. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”

Hands banged against the windows, making Leo jump. There were some chants of Finn’s name, along with Logan’s, and Leo realized they didn’t know who was in the car. “I—yeah.” The room. “I think so.”

Logan considered him for a moment, then took off his own hat and placed it, bill forward, on Leo’s head.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Do I look—”

“You look how I want you to look. Merde, I want Finn to see you.” Logan grinned. “But it may be a bit much for a photo.”

Leo reached up and touched the hat. It was green and had said the word LOVE on it. That was a story Leo wanted to write. Logan could say a lot with his hats. There were whole twitter accounts dedicated to the way he hinted at future songs or albums with what was on his hat.

LOVE. Leo was wearing the word love.

“I know I shouldn’t hold your hand quite yet,” Logan began, trailing off.

Leo laughed. “That would spark some wild rumors.”

Logan looked at him over the rim of his glasses, the shadow making his green eyes bright. “Stay close to me, okay?” He popped the car door and the sound of the crowd doubled, frenzied, screaming, yearning. “Stay close.”

Leo could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel it in his throat. He did want to hold Logan’s hand. “I will.”

And Leo experienced the cameras and fans from an entirely different view. He’d followed Finn and Logan around. He’d never walked with them, not like this. Not side by side in a way that signaled to everyone he was with them.

He stuck close to Logan’s back, as promised. He caught some curious looks, felt phone cameras trained on him. The sun was bright and he was very glad for Logan’s hat. He tried to take it in, if for nothing further than that this was the biggest crowd he’d ever followed a star through from this close, but it was over in a flash. They were in a cool hotel lobby, marble and stone, and a smiling woman, motioning them to the elevator. Logan’s two security guards got in with them.

The sudden silence was loud. Logan took his sunglasses off, casually folding them into his shirt and leaning back against the wall as they rose.

“Here we go, Tremz,” one of the guards said, fist bumping Logan as he passed him through the open doors. “See you tonight. Remind Finn the dinner res he asked for is at eight-thirty.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Logan looked back from the hallway. “Leo?”

“Sorry,” Leo said and strode forward. “Thanks—Thanks, Paul.”

Paul was a massive guy, but when he smiled he looked like a teddy bear. “You got it, man.”

There was only one door on this hallway, right in front of them with a large brass knocker, and no sooner had the elevator shut than did it swing open to reveal Finn—sweaty, in a soft looking gray t-shirt and running shorts, and grinning.

“Jesus,” Logan said. “You scared me.”

“I heard the ding,” Finn said cheerfully.

He was looking right at Leo. Leo drew Logan’s hat off, trying to catch his breath.

“There were crowds,” Logan said, as if explaining.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Are you guys famous or something?”

Finn ignored the joke. He walked right up to Leo, wrapped him up in his arms, and held on tight. Leo had maybe been expecting a kiss—probably something a tad more obvious than Logan’s sneak-attack. But the hug was better. Finn was warm. He smelled like sweat and sunscreen from being on stage.

“Hi,” Finn whispered in his ear. He pulled back, holding Leo’s cheek briefly, then gently tweaked a curl of Leo’s blond hair. “Hi, Sunshine.”

Leo covered Finn’s hand, turning his mouth against it. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Finn said, laughing. “Come in.”

“Ouais.” Logan put a hand low on Leo’s back, guiding him through the suite door. “Where’s my surprise?”

“What surprise?” Finn asked as the door shut behind them. Sure enough, Leo’s bags were waiting there, neatly side-by-side near the small kitchen.

“Not till later,” Leo said.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “How later?”

“Tomorrow later.”

Logan huffed.

Finn came up behind him, pressing a small cup into his hand. Espresso.

“Oh, how did you know?” Leo sipped it down easily. Hot and slightly sweet with sugar.

“You’re in Italy,” Finn said. Next he was wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. “You understand that if it’s a physical surprise, he’s going to dig through your luggage?”

Leo toyed with his delicate espresso cup.“Not if I say not to.”

Finn’s chin hooked over his shoulder. Leo could feel his laugh against his skin. His strong chest against his back. His hips— “You think he’ll listen to you?”

They both regarded Logan, who was still glaring at them—and glancing at Leo’s suitcase.

“I think he will.”

“Hm,” Finn said, and Leo felt a kiss land on his neck. “I think you’re right.” Another kiss to the exact same spot. Over a mark Logan had made? “I see someone has already gotten to you.”

“I was accosted in the car,” Leo said.

“Classic.”

Logan just rolled his eyes and began dragging Leo’s suitcase into another room.

By that night, the fans who didn’t read up on their music stories had already figured out who he was. Leo Knut—last seen on the road writing the coming out piece on Night Swimming. Sure enough, Twitter was full of wearing Lo’s hat wearing Lo’s hat???

“Ooh, you’re so undercover,” Finn commented when he glimpsed Leo’s phone once they were back in the car, speeding through the night on the way to dinner. “They don’t know what’s coming for them.”

Leo clicked his phone off even as Cassie texted nice hat. He looked at Logan, at a purplish bruise Leo had left on his neck. “No, they really don’t.”

Logan covered the mark with his palm and grinned out the window. Leo laughed, looking, too, then paused.

“Hey, are we leaving the city?”

“Yep,” Finn said.

“Where?” Logan asked.

Finn shrugged exaggeratedly. He’d changed into a dark blue button down, light slacks, and pretty brown leather shoes that Leo badly wanted a pair of. He’d pushed a dark green button down towards Logan, dark trousers, and white, pristine sneakers. He’d taken one look at Leo and told him he was perfect, but Leo had showered and changed anyway. Dusty red shirt. He’d followed Finn’s lead and left the collar loose.

Logan kicked at Finn from his seat across from the both of them. Finn just stuck his tongue out and took Leo’s hand across the console between them. Leo stared at it for a moment. Finn’s pale fingers that would be playing a guitar to thousands of people tomorrow were right there wrapped up in his own.

“Where?” Logan insisted.

“Jesus, Lo, can neither of us try and surprise you? I know you found all your presents as a kid, but you’re not finding the ones I give you.” Finn dropped a wink. “I’ll give it to you when I decide.”

Apparently where was a castle. Literally a castle. Soft lights flooded up the old stones to reveal turrets and archways. A man in a tuxedo was waiting for them at the entrance. They were given champagne in thin, airy glasses and leave to roam the lit gardens before their dinner was served. The air was mild, but the feeling of Finn and Logan at his shoulders was better. Finn had something to say about every flower, every piece of architecture, as if he had studied up for this night. They ate dinner under the stars, watching fireflies dart through the greenery.

It wasn’t until they had been served an array of desserts and left truly alone that Leo thought to bring up the article and how they were doing—it was different to ask without a screen between them.

“We’re so good,” Finn said. He looked at Logan, who nodded. Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s chair, scooting it closer to his. Leo watched him lean into him. His brown eyes flickered to Leo even as his lips brushed Logan’s skin. “Lo?”

“Ouais, I…” Logan gave up on words and tucked his face into Finn’s neck, laughing.

Leo leaned back in his chair, glad the table let him stretch his still plane-cramped legs out under the table. “It’s so nice to see you up there. Really. I can’t wait for tomorrow. You just look so…free.”

“We feel free,” Finn said. “And it’s thanks to you.” He held out a hand across the linen tablecloth and, after a moment, Leo took it. “How are you, Le?”

Leo let out a slow breath, watching the way Finn’s thumb tracked across his knuckles. “I’m…” He laughed a little. “That’s quite a question. Really quite a question.”

Logan laughed, and when Leo realized he was laughing at him, he threw a sugar coated almond at him in a neat arc across the table—which lost all its effect when Logan caught it in his mouth.

“Non, seriously.” Logan leaned more into Finn’s side. “Leo?”

Leo looked around them. They both had a knack for finding these slices of paradise. Though, lately it had been feeling like any where they were was heaven, even his own kitchen.

“Being on tour with you was wonderful,” Leo answered. “And Nice was, of course, perfect. So beautiful…God, this is beautiful.”

“Why am I sensing a but?” Finn asked, brows drawn together. Logan looked downright nervous.

Leo shook his head, bringing his other hand to hold Finn’s as well. “No. Well, yes, but not like that.”

They both looked at him expectantly. Patiently.

“You’ve been sweet in waiting for me. And honest about wanting me.”

“We fumbled and recovered,” Finn said.

“We do want you,” Logan said earnestly.

“Well, I…I hope so,” Leo said softly. Finn’s hand tightened around his.

“Yeah?” Finn whispered.

Leo nodded. Logan couldn’t quite reach with the angle, but he reached for Leo, too, hand on Finn’s wrist.

“It’s been—what? A week and a half of video calls? You know all these glorious places are amazing, but when we’re just sitting around…I mean, when we’re just talking… Or you’re watching me wash dishes, do laundry. And I start to feel like…”

He felt the words well in his throat like tears as he looked between them. He understood Cassie’s hesitation. He understood his own hesitation. He’d been nervous that he’d come back and something would have changed. Like adrenaline leaving the system. But it hadn’t.

“I’ve never not known how to be without someone before,” Leo said. “But you make me feel like I don’t remember how to be alone.”

Finn’s smile was tearful and Leo realized he felt a little like that, too, even as Finn leaned forward and kissed him. It dissolved into a laugh, into kiss to his cheek. A piece of silverware clattered to the ground as Finn tugged Leo’s chair closer and hugged him as best he could.

“Rouge, you’re pulling the table cloth, the table—” Logan’s voice came, laughing. Leo heard his chair scoot back and then there was another pair of arms around Leo’s neck, Logan leaning over the back of his chair. He managed a sloppy kiss to Leo’s mouth, despite the angle.

Leo closed his eyes and held on. He waited for Finn to make him laugh. Or Logan to say something in French. But they stayed quiet, surprising him. He peeked one eye open, only to see that Finn, whose forehead was pressed against Leo’s temple, had his eyes closed, too. Leo didn’t dare move him to try and get at Logan, but the content sigh he felt against his neck was enough to go on for him. Wind whistled through the trees around them, bring the smell of some sweet flower. Leo closed his eyes again and leaned back into Logan’s shoulder and Finn’s arm. It was like a blanket, their quiet. They’d been more serene than he’d expected from the beginning—puzzles, dinner, reading, morning runs. This was something deeper. It was as if something unhappy had finally been able to settle for them, too. The questions were still there. How will this work? What will people think? But they were muted and far off.

They looked up at footsteps on the patio, only to find a surprised waiter holding a pitcher of water.

“Ah,” the waiter said. “Pardon me. Uh…”

“Hi,” Finn said, only lifting his head. “Yeah, we’ll take the check.”

~

They laughed about it on the car ride home, the waiter’s face. Speeding through dark hills, and then streets still filled with chatter and light. Leo watched out the window as they slowed in narrower streets. It gave him a glimpses of passing faces. Laughing, eating, kissing.

Finn’s hand pressed to his thigh. “Are you composing sentences right now? I think you are.”

Leo looked over at him. “Maybe. And you?”

“I’ve been watching you two write in your heads for the last ten minutes,” Logan said. He’d stretched his legs out so their feet slotted together in the car space between them.

“Well, no one got on my lap, I had to do something to pass the time,” Leo said, squeezing one of Logan’s ankles between his own.

Logan just looked at him with bright eyes. “I don’t want to have to stop.”

Leo let his head fall back against the seat and he put his hand over Finn’s. “You just deal with that every day?”

“All day,” Finn said. “You don’t even want to know the things he says to me before we go on stage.” Finn laughed and scooted over in his seat, pressing right up against Leo’s side. “Actually, you probably do.”

No one was waiting at the hotel this time. There were no bright flashes to catch what Leo was sure was an intense flush on his cheeks. They stayed close in the elevator, their security shaking their heads at how giddy they probably sounded—all that content silence had bubbled into talking over each other and far too loud laughter. Finn fumbled a little with the hotel key, but then they were inside the suite and met with a blast of AC. Finn went to turn it down, but Logan got his hands on Leo’s waist and pulled until Leo had him pinned right up against the side of the entrance hall.

“This is how I first met you,” Leo said, staring down at him. He traced a hand under Logan’s jaw and watched the way he bared his neck for more. “I was so surprised. And you were so beautiful. And also you literally did not stop making out with Finn which was, like, okay then.”

Finn’s laugh reached them. “I asked him that after you left. I was like, how long was he standing there actually? And he wouldn’t tell me.”

“What’d you want, Lo?” Leo whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Me to walk in ready to go right then?”

“Non, I wanted to see if you thought I was hot,” Logan said, then laughed as Leo pulled back to follow Finn’s voice into the living room. He called after him, “And you do!”

Finn had his dress shirt half unbuttoned and his belt in one hand, frowning at something on his phone.

“You okay there difficult rock star?” Leo asked, trying not to stare at his pale chest against the blush color.

Finn looked up, all big brown eyes suddenly—how did he do that? Switch between unbearably hot to unbearably sweet in two seconds—and smiled. “Oh. This isn’t what it looks like.” He gestured to himself with his belt. “I just wanted to change. And yeah, just tomorrow’s call times.”

Call times. Show tomorrow. Leo took a breath. Right. What time was it? Midnight? One? Leo knew they should sleep. He’d seen them on the nights before shows many times now. Logan drank mint tea. Finn read. Unless they had friends at the shows, or family, they tried to get as much sleep as they could. Logan slept in as much as he could. Finn seemed incapable of sleeping in, but he went for a run and he ordered up a big breakfast. God, Leo wanted to make them breakfast again. He wanted the way they sat with him, looked at him, made him coffee.

Leo nodded. He emptied his pockets, setting his phone and wallet on a side table. “I hope it’s not too early? I know your routines the night before a show and this isn’t it. It’s early for me, technically. But it’s late for you.”

Leo’s eyes drew down Finn’s body again. The half-untucked shirt. He was pretty sure those socks he was wearing were the ones advertised on TV offering arch support. Why, why was that hot right now? It was. And maybe Leo wanted the way Finn looked right now to be exactly what it looked like. What then?

Finn was quiet, glancing at Logan as he came into the room and sat on the back of the couch to look at Leo. Finn drew in a slow breath, stretching his arms up and behind his head, so that when he spoke his voice came out tensed like his muscles—which Leo could see more of now, the sharp cut just above his waistline. “I mean, you could…” He grinned, dropping his arms and relaxing. “We could get you on the right time zone.”

Leo bit at the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t exactly the line he’d heard in Finn’s voice during all of his laundry-folding day dreams, but it was so very Finn that it was better.

“What did your team think when you said I’d be staying with you?” Leo glanced up around the room. “I mean, in the same…” Bedroom? “Suite.”

“They’re our team for a reason,” Finn said. “They know what’s their business, and what’s ours.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “And my being a reporter isn’t their business? I bet at least a few people would disagree with that.”

“You’re not the kind of reporter they worry about,” Logan said. “Unless you suddenly revealed a long-range camera in your suitcase.” He tilted his head teasingly. “That’s not the surprise, is it?”

“No,” Leo laughed. “Definitely not the surprise.”

“And just to be clear,” Finn said. “Because looks like we’re not great on being clear—”

“Room, not suite,” Logan cut in.

“Jeez, way to grab my punchline and yank it out from beneath my feet.” Finn strode closer and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “But yes. We were hoping…I mean, there is another room. Two other, in fact, for you to choose from.” He tilted his head. “But I was hoping just your suitcase would be staying there.”

“We,” Logan said, rising from his seat.

“We were hoping.”

Logan stood in front of Leo. He held out his hands palm up, and Leo put his palms into them. Logan gave a gentle tug. When Leo hesitated, worrying the inside of his cheek, it took about half a second for concern to flicker over Logan’s face.

“Le?” he asked gently. “What…What did I do?”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “Nothing. I want that. I really, really want that. I just…” Leo sighed, cursing himself. The nerves he’d felt while packing sprung back at him. Look at them. Look at them.

“It’s been a while for me,” Leo said softly. “I mean—I mean a while. And you two know each other—so well. I just don’t want…to, like, disappoint, or…”

“Non,” Logan said.

“You couldn’t,” Finn added. “Leo, you couldn’t disappoint us. Like, ever.”

Leo knew that. He did. He even believed it. It didn’t stop the idea that he would from making him want to crawl under the covers and hide.

“I’m looking at two people who know each other inside and out,” Leo said. “And I love that about you two. But—yeah. That’s all.”

Finn and Logan looked at each other. Leo didn’t mind the silent communication ability. He even liked it. It was sweet. In his dreams, he got that ability with them, too. One day.

Finn stepped forward. It wasn’t the stage walk. It was just him. Even in the button-down that Leo now knew to be the softest linen, it was just him. Not all the photos Leo had seen of fans catching him on the street—sunglasses, t-shirt, notebook or coffee…smiling, talking with them, and uncapping Sharpies with his teeth. Leo had looked at the photos from that particular day a lot. A lot. Summer in New York, headed to the recording studio, stooping so a girl could slip a necklace she had made him over his head.

“Okay.” Finn smiled softly. “There’s one thing we can do no matter what. It’s late. We can just get ready for bed and…and then whatever you want.”

Logan nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“We do know each other through and through,” Finn said. He tucked a stray curl behind Leo’s ear, but Leo felt it spring back into place. “Which is why we know how much we want you here.”

Leo shook his head, putting a hand against Finn’s chest. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m just…” Leo looked to Logan. “I…This is like a dream? A really good dream.”

“Leo.” Finn’s voice was overly serious, but Leo caught the spark in his eye. “Were we your celebrity crushes or something?” 

Leo’s laugh surprised him, head falling back. “Finn.”

“Aw,” Finn wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist. “I embarrassed him. Look, Lo, we were his celebrity crush.”

“First, I meant because you’re so sweet. And second, I’m pretty sure you could attempt world domination with the number of people who would name you if asked who their crush is,” Leo said.

“Maybe,” Finn replied. “But I only care about one.”

It was the little things, first. Logan left small pools of water all around the sink when he washed his face. He went to Leo’s luggage, and Leo only had time to call out a warning don’t before Logan was pulling out a t-shirt with a delighted laugh. Thankfully, it wasn’t his surprise one…But it was Finn’s.

Leo was brushing his teeth next to Finn O’Hara in Italy, and Logan Tremblay was holding up his HEARTTHROB O’HARA t-shirt with a grin on his face that said it all.

“That was also a surprise,” Leo said around his toothpaste. He groaned, and put a hand over Finn’s delighted eyes as passed him to go rinse his mouth.

When he leaned up from the faucet, Finn was there, rinsing beside him. Leo cleared his throat, laughing a little under the feeling of Finn’s gaze. He tried to escape, honestly he had no idea what to say, but two hands caught his hips and a hard, warm chest met Leo’s back.

They looked at each other in the mirror. The lights were soft and dim, bringing out each of Finn’s freckles. Leo put his hand over where Finn’s rested low on his stomach.

“I’m embarrassed,” Leo said, smiling down at the sink. “It’s stupid, right?”

With a slight pressure to his hip, Finn turned Leo around. Leo rested back against the counter’s edge, and Finn nudged his way to stand between his thighs. He carded Leo’s hair back from his face, the ends damp from washing his face.

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid,” Finn said.

Leo traced the N of his NASA t-shirt, then one of the trails on a shooting star. “You probably see people in that shirt all the time. Probably have signed that shirt a million times.” Leo closed his eyes. “Shit. I’d say I’m not some crazy fan, but younger me was definitely a crazy fan.” He looked up at Finn. “But you know all about crazy fans.”

Finn smiled a little. He barely had to tilt his chin forward at all to brush their mouths together. “I do know a little about that.”

“So maybe the shirt doesn’t even matter?” Leo asked hopefully. Finn’s brown eyes were staring at his mouth—that still had toothpaste on it maybe?

“Everything about you matters,” Finn said, and kissed him.

It brought back the rush of the ocean. The heat of the sun, sitting against those cliffs when Leo had been so confused, so in want. He knew how to hold himself together. God, if there was one thing he was so very good at in this world, it was holding himself together.

“Maybe I’m your crazy fan,” Finn whispered. “I’ve been stalking your writing for long enough.”

Leo laughed. “Mm, that’s true.” He reached up for Finn’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He didn’t want to hold himself together anymore. He didn’t want to hold back. Nothing he knew even compared to this. Not the fame, not the novelty. This. Worn out t-shirts and getting to have a perfect fit in a legendary love like theirs. These were new muscles, letting himself go, and he’d been straining them with these two. They felt stronger now.

The band of his pajama pants was wet from being pressed back into Logan’s puddles. Finn tasted minty, and with him standing between Leo’s thighs like this, Leo got to tilt his head up into the kiss.

“How do I look?”

They broke apart to see Logan standing in the bathroom doorway. He wore a soft looking pair of gray boxers, and his chest and arms filled out Leo’s t-shirt in a way Leo had never, would never have even thought, to imagine.

While Leo sat there staring, Finn laughed. “That thing looks like it’s about to fall to pieces.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was a hole near the collar, the letters were faded at the edges. But it was so damn soft from years of being washed that Leo couldn’t bare to part with it. He reached up and pushed his fingers through Finn’s hair. That gorgeous red hair. Maybe there was so much more he couldn’t part with now.

“Ouais, me too,” Logan said. Leo didn’t know what he was talking about until he walked forward and reached up for Finn’s hair, completely messing it up. “Everyone’s obsessed with it, but how can you not be?”

Leo laughed as Finn squinted one eye shut but let them have their fun. It was soft and thick, the sorter strands at the sides feathering through Leo’s fingers like velvet.

Finn put a hand on Logan’s chest, tapping over the letters of Leo’s t-shirt. “I always guessed that was why everything they put my name in is red, too.”

“Marketing?” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn sighed, shrugged, then smiled. “Le, that shirt really is about to fall apart.”

“I…wear it a lot.”

“Oh yeah? All around the city with my name on your heart?”

Leo bit his lip. It was more than that. It was what he wore when he was sad, or had had a bad day. When he was sick, or exhausted, or angry.

And then, over the past month, that comfort had shifted to them. A bad day at work ended with four hour FaceTimes until Leo was too sleepy to talk anymore and Finn’s soft voice. Goodnight, Sunshine. And when he couldn’t sleep, somehow Logan always knew. The soft light of his phone lighting up his bedroom from his nightstand and never letting him feel alone or sinking or like he would never sleep again.

“Le?” Finn asked softly. His hair was a mess from their hands. His eyes were pure syrup again, asking, checking, worried—loving?

“Hi,” Leo said. “Sorry, hi.” He put a hand on Finn’s cheek and looked at Logan.

Logan tilted his head. “What are you writing right now, Soleil?”

Leo closed his eyes briefly at the nickname, leaning his head back to bask in it. “Dialogue, I guess.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. It completed the circle of the three of them. “Of?”

“How to ask you to take me to bed,” Leo whispered.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, and then Leo was being kissed.

He’d written a lot of words in his life. It was almost funny to be asked what he was writing right then. He wasn’t even sure this was something that could be written. What did kiss have on what Finn gave him? It was just what Leo remembered. The heated energy from that middle of the night kiss in Nice, only tripled.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice was low. Leo felt fingers tighten in his hair and he gasped, breaking Finn’s kiss long enough to be pulled to another mouth. The ocean and the shade. The shade and the ocean. Finn’s laugh echoed against the bathroom tiles. He was watching them. He had a hand on Leo’s back, and probably Logan’s, and let them kiss.

No, Leo couldn’t have written this down. Logan, pulling him towards the bedroom. Finn flicking off the bathroom light and leaving them in the yellow-pink glow of a reading lamp and the moon.

“I’d raise the sun if I could,” he said. He caught Leo up around the waist again. “Just because it’s dark in here doesn’t mean I want it to be.”

“Finn.” It sounded pleading, but Leo hadn’t meant it that way. Not stop. Not more. Just… “Have some compassion for how full my heart can be right now, O’Hara.”

And then Leo took that famous NASA t-shirt right off of him. The stars and the comet trails, they were still there. Finn’s torso was its own sky map and Leo, wondering what Finn liked, bent to kiss a trail of his own along one thin collarbone.

What words existed for the feeling of Finn chest rising and falling against his mouth.

What words could Leo have used to describe the smile Logan gave him as he let Leo pull his t-shirt off of him next? All Leo could comprehend was the sheer strength of his arms and the dark trail of hair that led down into his boxers.

There were no hesitations, like Leo had thought there would be. The pauses were woven in, just turns and folds and lifts like pages. Yes? This? Grins and breaths and—Logan’s sounds. Logan. Logan knew what he wanted. Finn knew what Logan wanted. Leo, very quickly, knew what Logan wanted and shared a slightly dazed grin with Finn about it. He got to watch Finn’s practiced fingers, and see how much Finn enjoyed giving Logan everything he could possibly desire. It was as sweet as it was unbearably hot. Finn looked so pale against Logan’s tanned skin. Marble. That was a word Leo had used before, but it applied. Jesus Christ, it applied.

What did grip have on the way Logan clutched at Leo’s shoulders when they were at last as close as anything could be, his thighs shaking against Leo’s. Bliss, certainly, was nothing compared to the look on Logan’s face when Finn’s hand pressed over the strong curve of his adam’s apple and asked him how he liked it, told him they looked gorgeous. Throbbing held nothing to the way Leo’s heart pounded, and more than nothing to how close those words brought him to the edge. Rhythm. That’s what Logan had. Leo set his hands against the small of his back—two dimples there, made for Leo’s thumbs—and held on.

“Mm—” Logan’s breath came out short and he froze, mouth open against Leo’s neck. His back was slick with sweat now. Finn sat back on his heels just beside them, working himself slowly.

“What you waiting for, baby?” Finn breathed. He’d not been moving much, but there was a sheen over his nose and temples, too. Just from watching. Now, he shifted behind Leo and wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzling under his jaw.

Leo reached between them and Logan muffled his sound in Leo’s neck. Logan hadn’t been warm from the second he met him, but oh, he was warm now. Burning in Leo’s hands, against Leo’s body.

“I just want it to last,” Logan said shakily, but he was moving again, like he couldn’t help it. “You’re leaving in two days.” Logan wrapped his arms fully around Leo’s shoulders. “Don’t.”

“Don’t even know how—” Leo’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to breathe through the mix of white hot pleasure and blue tenderness pulsing through him. “How to think about leaving.” He smoothed his hands up Logan’s back, feeling the way it flexed as Logan moved against him.

“Ouais,” Logan said, a smile slipping across his face. He pulled back, his breathing jumping as their hips shifted. He kissed Leo hard, then cursed softly and let his head fall back. “Fuck…Leo…”

With his hair falling back and out of his eyes like that, Leo’s language left him entirely. He’d seen him like this on stage, lost in the music. He’d watched from the VIP booth, from the wings. Logan was closer to him than Finn was, always staying in one place. He’d seen the lights catch his every angle as he threw his head back, sweat dampening his dark hair, and played with everything he had. Tonight, Leo felt like theirs in that same way.

The sheets were kicked towards the end of the bed, or pooled on the floor. Leo’s head was on Finn’s chest, Logan’s forehead pressed to the top of his spine. Leo couldn’t stop touching them. He trailed his fingertips down Finn’s chest and watched goosebumps follow in their wake. Logan had a thigh thrown over his hip and Leo stroked the unbearably soft skin behind his knee. He dipped his thumb in the divot below Finn’s bottom lip.

Finn smiled sleepily, his eyes closed. His eyelashes were dark just now. In certain lights they tinged lighter, like his hair. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re soft,” Leo replied.

“Is he asleep?” Finn whispered.

“Non,” came Logan’s voice, though he sounded part of the way there.

“I’m not kidding.” Leo reached back to hold Logan’s hip. “I’m getting up if I start keeping you awake with my tossing around.”

That was a lie. There was nothing that could haul Leo out of where he was right now.

“Nu-uh.” Finn kissed Leo’s temple. “No tossing. Not with the weighted blanket I have.”

“You travel with a weighted blanket?” Leo asked skeptically.

Finn reached out and picked up Logan’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Sure do.”

“Oh,” Leo laughed.

“One-hundred percent effective, I promise.”

When Finn turned the lights off, it sent the room into near complete darkness and so Leo could do nothing but feel, in every nerve, and expanse of exposed skin, the way Logan nudged his nose into the soft hair at his nape, and the way Finn rolled onto his side to hold them both.

“Show tomorrow,” Finn whispered. “You ready?”

Leo smiled. “Do I have to be ready? I think that’s supposed my question to you two.”

“You have to be ready,” Finn placed a kiss to his neck. “It’s a Leo show.”

[brain-dead-bunny]

Per your request request, post-sex cuddles with Dr Egon Spengler

hey so sorry this took me six months to complete and it’s literally only 1k words asfahdns

This is NOT proofread. slight Nsfw, starts nsfw I guess? but mainly fluff. Enemies to lovers I guess.

        It was late into the evening when the muffled sounds of heavy petting filled fire station No. 23. Clothes were being thrown precariously about the room and cold laboratory tables began to fog as you and a particular colleague desperately grasped at each other. Your digits find their way to his scalp, tightly threading through the dark, sweat matted curls. Your bodies pressed together, all skin and forgotten inhibitions. This was a regular occurrence. You, being a sceptic of the paranormal, were a frequent visitor of Dr. Spengler. You often fought about the credibility of his research, and the legitimacy of these so called “ghosts” he and his men claimed to capture. You believed his work was fallacy. He believed you were annoying. These heated debates always reached a boiling point that drove the others in the station to find somewhere else to be. Leaving you and Egon to argue alone. Obviously, you both found a way to vent your frustrations. 

On the smooth, reflective surface of an operating table, a whimper fell from your mouth, a hungry, needy sound. His bare chest heaved against yours as your bodies worked in sync, straining and tightening. Your hips bucked instinctually, meeting his in a perfect secular motion. With a familiar feeling of intensity building between you, he choked out a moan, muffled by your lips sealed around his.  A white-hot flush washes over you, releasing the knot in your stomach. stilling for this quiet moment, he rests against you, dropping his head into your shoulder. He leaves one stagnant open mouthed kiss on your collar bone and sits up. His full, pink lips hang open, panting out hot breaths. The muscles in his arms flexed while he rests palms, each hand on either side of you. Despite being trapped, you feel more held than anything else. This moment, it’s vulnerable, far more vulnerable than either of you have ever been with each other. 

Clarity comes to you, so you draw your gaze downward and let a warm blush creep osnto your face. A redness that intensifies when your jaw is caught in the grasp of his slender, calloused hands. Tenderly, he lifts, forcing your eyes to meet. Oh, he is beautiful. His glasses askew, fogged, his brown glassy eyes are fixed to yours. There is nothing in the world, or at least in this room, but you and him and this gaze between you. 

“Are you, alright?” He says, earnestly. It’s question that draws you back to reality. You suck in a breath, draw your hands to your chest, and nod. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall, it’s late, far too late “um, I’m alright.” you say, and then let out a dry chuckle. Clearing his throat, he backs up slightly and opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates. Instead, he opts for action. Gingerly he picks his lab coat up off floor, where it got tossed many hours before in your hurry to strip down. He places it on you, like a blanket, and you feel his lips, warm, on your forehead. You grin, you can’t help it. 

“You will stay here tonight, and so will I.” He says standing upright, fixing his glasses. You go to object, but are cut off by his low voice, “This is not a matter of discussion, it is too late for you to walk home. Your safety is at risk, I won’t have you in danger.” 

“Are you sure, Egon?” you bite you lip and look both ways in the room, as if someone were going to walk in any second. Nervously you ask, “Aren’t the rest of your team going to come back?” 

He chuckles, “No, not tonight. It’s far too late, like I said, they’ve all gone home.” He stops, and walks closer to you taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “Actually, it’s very likely Peter is at a bar, manipulating some poor girl but, he won’t be coming back here till tomorrow.”  

He leans into you, and places his head on top of yours, arms firmly wrapped around you when he gently asks “Would you…. like to join me on one of the beds we have? I assume you must be tired from our,” he clears his throat “rigorous activities.”  

You let out a hum, suddenly becoming very tired, and snake your arms around his firm, warm torso. “Sounds like a good idea” you slur, before letting out a small yawn. 

Looking down at you, he smiles softly, and lifts you up almost like a doll before setting you on your feet. He offers his hand to you, before leading you to the nearest makeshift bedroom in the fire house. “I hope you don’t mind the dust, this place was fit to be condemned when we bought it. I objected but obviously I was outvoted.” he reports, as you both climb onto the off-white cotton mattress. 

There’s a smile plastered across your face as he rambles on about safety codes and hazards. Despite your yelling and arguing, you have a great respect for Dr. Spengler. Some would even say you harbor a fondness for him, although you’d never admit it. But here you are, limbs intertwined, sharing a bed and you couldn’t be happier as he holds you. “Egon?” You interrupt, “Yes?” looking at him for a silent moment as the sound of breathing fills the space and nothing else. “Would… you like to join me for coffee sometime?” He looks at you, and furrows his brows, looking slightly confused. “For debate? I hardly think we can continue our usual ritual in such a public place.” You laugh “No, Egon, I mean just coffee. No arguing, no debate just.. coffee.” He thinks for a moment and your heart rate quickens with a nerve that you haven’t felt before with him.

He finally answers after several moments of silence. “I think that would be pleasant.” You let a breath unaware you were holding, as relief washes over you. He says, quietly “Goodnight.” You feel him move closer to you, arms across your chest, his head dropped to your shoulder yet again. He relaxes into you, in a way much different to the usual, put together scientist he presents as. “Goodnight, darling.” You press a kiss to the palm of his hand and hold it close to your chest, right before grasping the taught, lamp string and giving it a swift tug, leaving the room enveloped in darkness. With only the sound of your matching heart beats to fill the air.

[lucidhalseys]

Almost Home for the Holidays

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: you're eternally grateful for both your fiancee and his new proclivity for saving the world; but that doesn't mean you can't hold him to a promise to be home for presents.

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The New York winter bit harshly at your cheeks as your gloved hands struggled to grip the reigns of your horse.

Your horse being your german shepherd, and the reigns being her leash of course. Athena did not care if it was Christmas, she was going to pull you face first into the nearest snow drift in chase of the squirrel she just got the sent of.

"Athena, heel. We're going home." Home was a brownstone in Brooklyn, and a glance at your watch had you risking a slip on the ice in your power walk to get home. Bucky should be home any minute, and you knew you were cutting it close with the walk this late but you had long learned that you were the slave to her bathroom needs.

Athena fell into step easily beside you, seeming to sense your unease. Maybe she could even tell that Bucky would be home soon; she spent hours waiting for him by the front door when he left for a mission.

You only had a pinch of disappointment when you pushed in the front door and weren't immediately greeted by your fiancees firm grasp. One more nervous glance at your watch confirmed that he wasn't even technically late yet.

It was just past 6:00pm on Christmas night, the sun long having abandoned the streets of the city in favor of the long winter nights. You had tried to fight for an earlier arrival time, but his reasoning was that he would rather debrief immediately instead of having to go in to talk to Sam tomorrow.

Begrudgingly, you of course understood. Bucky wasn't like any man you had met before him; in a myriad of ways, and had been kind enough to sit down with you when things were seeming to be surpassing 'serious' and let you know exactly what his life style entailed. You had long since decided a little worry for his safety and nights alone at home were worth the honor of being loved by him.

You were only human, though. And sometimes on those late nights, you couldn't help but miss his presence next to you.

You had the dinner simmering on the stove before you risked another look at your watch, followed quickly by pulling your phone out of your pocket to see if you had missed any communication.

He was officially a half hour late, but that wasn't necessarily uncommon. You turn the oven down low to keep the pasta warm, and shoot off a text before you find a seat on the couch.

dinner is ready :) <3

You clicked the tv on, opting for something mind numbing and a little funny to help distract you. Athena was completely unbothered from her nap spot in front of the new bed that you and Bucky had picked out for her a few weeks ago. She was as spoiled as they come, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

An episode ended and you picked up your phone, officially starting to itch with a bit of irritation. You had no notifications, other than Goodreads reminding you about your reading goal. Your brows pulled together tight when you opened up your text thread and noticed your message wasn't delivered and the truth settled over you like a thick blanket of snow.

James wasn't coming home tonight.

You hefted a sigh and gathered up your blanket, motioning for Athena to follow you into bed after you turn the food on the stove off, not finding it in you to care to put it away for later.

You fell asleep fitfully, torn between worry and loneliness.

The sound of a pan hitting the stove jolted you from bed, instant panic jittering your veins while you groped the bedside table for the handgun you know damn well Bucky kept there just in case.

Your vision cleared when your hand swiped over the gun, and you noticed a few things at once. Athena wasn't in the bedroom, but she also wasn't ripping the arm off of whoever was in the kitchen. That's when you noticed Bucky's travel pack tossed haphazardly against the closet door and realized what must be going on.

Confused eyes glanced at your bedside table and saw the digital numbers glaring back.

11:54pm

Still Christmas, then.

"You need to be quiet or you're going to wake your mother up, missy." The scene was something out of your dreams, and despite your anger with him, there was something about the gruff of Bucky's voice that always made you smile.

He was half playing with Athena in the kitchen, feeding her a small piece of meat in exchange for her supposed silence.

"You made it." You wondered if you sounded as irritated as you felt and struggled not to feel bad.

Bucky looked disheveled as he always did when he got back from an extended mission. Beard in need of a shave, dark circles under his eyes and an apologetic smile pulling at his lips.

"I would make excuses, but I know there are none." He closed the distance between you in two strides, hands coming to rest on your hips and pull you to his chest. "I told you I would be home, and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

Your anger was a slippery thing, and all grasp you had on it left. You melted into his arms, forehead resting on his collar bone, the scent of pine and musk relaxing your tense muscles. "It's okay, Jamie. I know what you do is important. It's just..."

"Christmas." He said quietly, hand rubbing over your back in small circles. "I understand, sweetheart. You have every right to be disappointment."

You pulled back a bit to look into his eyes, nose scrunched. "You make it so hard to be upset when you're reasonable."

Bucky's answering chuckle vibrated against you, and you swore that he had some kind of magic in his smile. One you had noticed was reserved for you. "I can cause a scene, if you'd like." His smirk was sinful.

Your answering giggle was all the answer he needed and you were swept into his arms, lips coming down on yours. You loved these moments. Ones that existed only to the two of you.

"How about I heat up this food and we watch The Polar Express?" Your smile widened at his suggestion.

"Only if-"

He gave you another small kiss. "Only if I make my special hot chocolate for the hot chocolate scene, you got it captain."

You did your little happy wiggle, telling him you loved him while you went to grab your blanket from the bedroom, Athena hot on your heels with the hope of more treats.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

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hey guys!!! fic requests are open. i also humbly request any likes/reblogs/comments that you may have! it keeps me motivated <3 thank you for reading

[drivinmeinsane]

Would you wanna expand on Anna and K being siblings in all ways that matter? I agree, I'd just like to hesr your thoughts on the matter too :]

Oh man, you've opened a can of worms. 👀 Here's some of my rambling threads of thoughts complete with my mauled digital copy of the script and screencaps galore.

Spoilers for Blade Runner 2049 under the cut.

From the moment Ana is introduced, even before we meet her face to face, she is a mirror of K. They are copies of one another. Two people can't have the exact same genetic code, but the closest one can get is twins. They shared their defining memory and splintered off later in life as siblings do.

There was always meant to be two of them. The files say that one died from an illness and the other lived. We find out that Ana was stuck on-world from an illness that she developed. Only, she didn't die. She was left behind and abandoned to work for Wallace and other corporations needing her memory making services. Ana is the real girl and K is her ghost.

A life of freedom as long as it's behind glass. K has the same as long as he obeys the rigid system that keeps him tethered. Neither are truly living. It's escapism. They both dream of realities where they are loved. By illegally putting her memory into K, Ana created a family member. He's her copy—a sibling, a twin—someone who shared her life experience and could relate. Two children, protecting the only item they have left from a father who they had never met. As one, they had stowed it away in a furnace and enduring being beaten. They lived this. Together. Ana's last name of Stelline. Little stars. It beings to mind the Gemini zodiac sign. The twins. Castor and Pollux and their horses. K was the invisible companion of Ana, an unborn ghost. Maybe she imagined him when things got too dismal. Maybe she thought about having a brother or a sister. When the time came, she offered up the memory to the Wallace corporation so the burden of that childhood could be shared, understood. A sibling made reality. A ghost was made solid, living flesh. Who would have thought that replicant would come looking? Who would have thought Officer K would break every shred of genetic modification and careful conditioning to find her, his sister, while searching for answers because he cared, because he was part of Ana's scattered family and didn't know it.

Again, they mirror each other. In the same moment that Ana is looking at the snow falling on her hand, K is doing the same. Even in the end, they are connected. Left hand and right hand—two parts of a whole.

No one had ever come for K. He makes sure someone comes for Ana. He knows what it's like to want family so badly that your very bones ache, that you would kill another one of your kind for the first time for it. He found their father and brought him home. He was a good brother, a good son.

There is a void over Ana's right shoulder where K should be. Her ghost—her copy—has died even if she does not know it yet. His death in a roundabout way fulfills the prophecy of the DNA database findings. Two siblings, a boy and a girl. One dies. He haunted her before his inception and he haunts her still after his body is found on the stairs of the upgrade center. If only she had spoken up. If only K had told Deckard the truth. If only there had been another way to love someone without remaining a stranger.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record because I've honestly lost count of how many times I've said this, I genuinely believe Deckard would have shrugged and accepted the fact that he and Rachael had had two kids.

I think the three of them could have been happy together, but Blade Runner 2049 is a modern Greek tragedy seeped in the lore from thousands of years ago. There are no joyous endings here.

[quarantineddreamer]

Ulaf

For @andorappreciation Week 2023! A little backstory for Ulaf 💙 Opening below and complete fic below the cut.

Ulaf was not an innocent man. 

Of course he wasn’t. He was too old to be innocent in a world that was hard, containing “rules” that were arbitrary and ever-changing. 

He committed his first crime when he was no more than 8 years old–and if he was being honest he was surprised it had taken him that long. His stomach was horribly empty, the kind of empty where even the grit of dust on his tongue held a certain sort of appeal. He hadn’t seen his father in over two weeks, a new record. He swiped a piece of fruit from a woman’s bag the moment she set it on the ground to examine another item, and he ran, fast, the wind whistling in his ears like a scream.

His father eventually came home a week after that. He wore the same clothes Ulaf had last seen him in–now patterned with sweat and other mystery stains–reeking of booze, not a credit left in his pockets (not that there had been many to begin with) and a large, greening bruise on his face, the ugly of his insides seeping onto the surface of his flesh. 

A week after that, Ulaf’s father disappeared again, but Ulaf wasn’t too sad about it. This time, he didn’t wait for his father to return. As soon as he realized what had happened, he committed his ninth and tenth crimes (stealing a coat to fend off the cold and a new pair of shoes to keep out the rain). Then, he found a new place to live–in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. 

Ulaf thought he might have seen his father one more time a year later–the briefest glimpse of a pair of familiar, vacant eyes belonging to a man stumbling out of the cantina–but 6 years after that he realized he had been mistaken, because a stranger walked up to him, clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed drunkenly as he told Ulaf about a man he’d killed 7 years ago. “You’re the spitting image of him. Miserable bastard…You interested in a bet?”

It was lucky Ulaf possessed not a single thing of value, it wasn’t possible to gamble with nothing.

Or maybe that wasn’t quite true. 

He couldn’t gamble in the way his family had for generations before him, but he gambled in other ways, took risks when he needed to for survival…and when he didn’t need to, because he found something in his veins turned to gold when his heart was pounding, lungs burning, the prickle of danger sending shivers down his spine. 

It was the only time he felt like he was worth something; capable, powerful, above the grime and the muck and the cruelty into which he had been born. It was the only time, that is, until he met Neel. 

When Ulaf was 19 he stumbled upon an open doorway, a pool of warm, yellow light beckoning, the delicate clinking of fine glassware, the easy hum of chatter–not a single voice raised in anger or distress, not a single soul bothered by anything that existed beyond the walls immediately around them. At first he thought he might be dreaming, or else, he’d stumbled upon some strange portal to a parallel universe.

Ulaf walked through the door and into a room drenched in opulence. There was food everywhere, no one was worried about the draft streaming in from the outside, everyone was dressed in beautiful and intricate clothes–a single thread of which Ulaf felt certain was worth more than every bit of fabric cloaking his body. 

No one seemed to notice him, they were too caught up in themselves. Ulaf found an empty bowl–large, ornate, and purple, looking like it had never once been used–and set to work wandering the party, casually scraping food (pastries, fruit, vegetables, meats, all unidentifiable and bite-sized)  into the container.

When the bowl was filled to the rim–practically overflowing, in danger of spilling if not balanced correctly–Ulaf began making his exit, and…locked eyes with a boy–about his age, dressed in worn, ragged clothing the same as him, with short brown hair and a long, skinny frame. 

Ulaf waited a moment, bracing for a shout, for an arm to rise and a finger to point, an outraged glare to appear upon the boy’s face–throw him under the speeder to make his own escape easier. 

But the boy only continued to watch him with curious, gray eyes–the same color as the sky outside. 

Ulaf took a hesitant step towards the door, holding his breath. 

The boy did nothing. 

So, Ulaf continued walking steadily for the exit, clutching his bowl of treasures tighter to his middle and staring straight ahead. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy following him, gaze never lifting from his face as he slipped through the crowd.

For some reason, Ulaf did not feel the need to run. His path intersected with the boy’s at the entrance to the party and they both stopped, silent and still staring.

“You know,” the boy said quietly, looking down at the bowl of food in Ulaf’s arms, “I think that bowl is only for decoration.”

Ulaf blinked in confusion, glanced at the bowl, perfectly useful–what they were supposed to be, what else?

“I’m just saying,” the boy murmured, then lifted his eyes, corners of his mouth turning upwards into a small smile. “It’s probably made of something valuable. You might be able to get some credits for it after you’re done with it.”

“Okay…” Ulaf didn’t know what to do. Usually all his instincts would be pushing him to leave, run, get away, but something had taken hold of him, rooting him to the spot, and he suspected somehow that the boy was responsible. 

“I’m Neel,” the boy offered his hand, spotless, glowing–he’d taken the time to wash them recently, maybe in preparation for this, for whatever little good that did to help him blend in considering his outfit.

Ulaf awkwardly shifted the bowl in his arms, rubbed his palm against the side of his leg–not that it would accomplish anything, he was certain there was plenty of dirt on his pants as it was–and took the boy’s hand in his own, gave a tentative, gentle shake. 

“What’s your name?” Neel asked. 

“Ulaf…” he replied, beginning to feel restless, shifting his feet.

“Ulaf,” Neel repeated, nodding his head. “Nice to meet you, Ulaf.” He leaned closer and asked quietly, “Are you willing to share?”

He’d never shared a meal with anyone. His mother had died giving birth to him, he had no siblings, and his father had never been much company. The idea of sharing was new, but it seemed nice.

Ulaf silently nodded. Together, he and Neel stepped into the fresh air where the cold bit at his cheeks, trying and failing to chase away the steady flush that had risen there, accompanying a ticklish sensation that was playing in his gut.

They found a rooftop to sit on while they ate, legs dangling over the edge as they talked. Later that same night the richness of the stolen food would make them both sick, but the next day they finished the rest of it anyways–too rare a gift to let go to waste.

The night marked the beginning of a new phase in Ulaf’s life. He and Neel became fast friends, partners, working together to get through it all. Ulaf learned how to laugh, because of Neel. Learned there was more to life than survival. Learned happiness.

It was Neel who convinced Ulaf that they could get jobs, make money–find stability. And he was right. Their home was changing, old buildings being torn down, new ones being built up. There were more residents arriving, hosting fancy parties like the one Ulaf had met Neel at; more wealth streaming in, carving new features into the landscape of the town. 

Ulaf found he didn’t mind it. It made work easier to find, and that work was pleasant enough. Construction challenged him in unexpected ways–mind and body–and he was surprised by the satisfaction he felt when a project finished. Something new in place, rising from rubble, thanks to the work of him and his team. 

He and Neel were a part of the team that tore down the old building they had once called home. The walls came down with unnervingly little effort–all in one morning’s work. That same day, they took what little credits they saved and moved into an apartment together, sleeping on the floor, wondering at the ceiling over their heads–no more need to worry about the rain.

When Ulaf was 25 (and Neel 26), they met Ver. One drink after a long day on site, “just one drink,” Neel wanted, and Ulaf’s entire life changed. Again. 

From the moment Neel saw Ver–across the room, black hair cascading down a slender shoulder, drinking something pink and sweet–Ulaf could see how he felt about her.

Because of Ver, Ulaf learned love. He learned jealousy, and hurt, and the bitter taste of swallowing it all, hoping it wouldn’t cause him to choke. But in spite of everything, he could see how happy Ver made Neel, and in that way, she made him happy too. And anyways, it was his fault, he reasoned, for not realizing sooner how he felt about his first, longest, and best friend…

A few months later, Ver had moved in with them. Ulaf enjoyed her goofy sense of humor; she was a good cook, a fierce friend, and she never made him feel left out. The first thing she told him after she and Neel announced they were getting married was, “But I don’t want you to think this means you need to move out. Okay?” Like it had never been a question to her, but she knew his mind, and she knew he would need that reassurance.

In the end, they all ended up moving out when Ver became pregnant. With three sources of income, they just managed to afford a new home: a cozy house a few blocks away, with three bedrooms, a run-down, but proper kitchen, and even a little living room, where they carefully arranged second-hand furniture, flickering, barely-functioning lamps, and a dusty, green rug.

Their unusual, but loving family gradually grew into the space, filling it with a warmth it had not previously possessed. First Xara arrived, with beautiful eyes of slate-gray, just like her father’s. Then two years later Zo joined, possessing her mother’s same contagious, bubbly laugh. The persistent ache that had haunted Ulaf’s chest for years now, eased somewhat. It was hard to regret how his life had gone when he felt the love he did for his friends and for their children. 

He made sure they felt every bit of support and care he had never received. 

Xara was the curious one, always asking questions, always wanting to learn. It was no surprise to anyone when she started school and became fully absorbed in her studies. When she was old enough, she even taught Ulaf to read–something he had never had the privilege or time to do when he was her age.  

Zo had a rebellious spirit, like Neel, that got her into trouble more often than not when she hit her teens. But when she was hissing fire at her parents, she confided in Ulaf, and he provided her with what guidance he could–usually managing to convince her that Neel and Ver were on her side too. 

They grew up too fast. They all did, decades flashing past like the lights on a speeder. 

Zo married a good man who became ill and died tragically young, leaving her a widowed mother to their five year old son–named Ulaf, after his great-uncle. She came home to live with Neel, Ver, and Ulaf again.

Xara showed up one day with her best friend–a woman who she reintroduced to them as her now-fiance. The celebration that ensued lasted well into the earliest hours of the next morning. There was a strange combination of joy and grief that settled in Ulaf as he watched Xara and her wife-to-be, witnessing a future he’d never quite imagined was possible…

While Neel and Ver aged gracefully, Ulaf found he did not. His bones began to ache fiercely in the chill of winter mornings. He left construction work not long after his 65th birthday, his fingers grown too clumsy for the tools, his back too painful, his feet weary. He was surprised he had lasted as long as he had, not just because of his deteriorating physical health, but because the work had been gradually drying up for years before… 

Ulaf was 68 when he overheard Neel and Ver’s hushed words in the kitchen. “There’s not enough…” “We have to figure something out.” His friends had never kept secrets from him before, a weight like a rock settled in his stomach. 

Not long after, Ulaf was lying awake one night, listening, because Neel hadn’t come home yet… 

The door gave a familiar creak as it slid open–they’d never managed to figure out how to fix it in all the years they’d lived there–and Ulaf slid from his bed and padded softly into the living room. 

He found Neel sitting–saggy-postured, and exhaustion pouring out of every angle of his body–on the couch, picking mindlessly at the edges of a hole in the upholstery. 

Ulaf switched on the light, announcing his presence and revealing Neel’s face: one eye swollen shut, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, staring at palms scraped raw from a fall. It reminded Ulaf of his father; pulled him right back to the nights of hunger and cold, fear, loneliness. 

“Neel,” he breathed, collapsing into the seat next to Neel, gently taking his hands and turning them over carefully, wincing at the depth of the scratches. “Hold on.” He rose–joints voicing their complaint in loud pops–to grab the spare bacta patch they had from the kitchen cupboard along with whatever other bandages he could find.

“Don’t tell Ver,” Neel murmured upon his return, flinching as Ulaf began to dab lightly at the cut on his forehead with a damp cloth. 

“Neel, I don’t know if–”

“Please,” he repeated, and Ulaf saw a desperate light in his friend’s eyes that sent a cold spark of terror in him. 

“What’s going on?” Ulaf whispered, lifting the cloth to check his work, reaching behind him for the bacta patch when he saw the wound was clean.

Neel gave a hard swallow, looked away for the first time since Ulaf had joined him in the room. “I got fired, they saw I couldn’t keep up anymore–not that there was enough work to begin with. And then… You know we’ve been helping Zo with taking care of the kid ever since…” He shook his head. “We were cleared out. Nothing left. And now…”

Ulaf looked down at the bacta patch in his hand, fingers worrying over the packaging as he tonelessly said, “How much do you owe?” 

He heard Neel give a heavy sigh, “Too much.”

“How much, maybe I can help–”

“No,” Neel argued fiercely. “And then what? We’ll be no better off.”

Ulaf stilled as memories came flooding into his mind. “We had nothing before…”

“When we were young, Ul,” Neel protested, “when we were young. It’s different now. What with the kids…”

In the silence that settled, Ulaf tore into the bacta, gently lined it up with the wound on Neel’s face and pressed, before dragging his hand away, lingering on his friend’s cheek. He handed Neel the damp cloth to put on his swollen eye and looked to his empty hands. “Who?” he asked quietly. “Who do you owe?”

“I didn’t want to get wrapped up with a whole crew. I went to the one at the end of the road, just off the market. But it was a mistake, he’s worse than most. Demanding. Uncompromising.”

“Okay,” Ulaf murmured, lifting his head to stare at the shadows pooling at the end of the dark, empty hallway where not far-off Zo was sleeping with the son she’d named after him, where the woman who had given him a family–Ver–was dreaming, maybe nightmares. And then he turned back to find Neel’s steady, gray eyes watching him, turning him into a boy again, running through alleyways, ears ringing with laughter. “Don’t worry,” Ulaf told him. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Ul…”

Ulaf took one of Neel’s hands in his own before he could fully realize what he was doing. “It’ll be okay.” He didn’t know what else to say, ‘Thank you’, would echo with a finality too sharp for Neel to accept–would only lead to him resisting. And…

‘I love you,’ would be a betrayal. Even if it was true, it would be. To Ver, to Neel, to his family. 

Ulaf slowly stood. “It’ll be okay. Go to sleep, I’ll be back.”

Neel rose, something unreadable on his face. He reached a hand round to the back of Ulaf’s neck, pulled him in close till their foreheads were touching, the bacta patch a bubble pressed between them. The only sound was that of their breathing, kept in perfect rhythm, and Ulaf could feel it, for the first time in years… His heart pounding, something in his veins turned to gold…

It was a while before they broke apart. Ulaf waited to leave until Neel had limped his way down the hallway and shut the door to his and Ver’s bedroom. 

Then, he walked out of his home and into the moonlit street, the crisp, night air setting his lungs on fire with something fierce and brave. 

He tried bargaining with the man who had loaned his friend money, but the man’s greed was evident, his threats only increasing in severity with each passing moment Ulaf spent with him. 

In the end, their arguing was too loud–attracting the attention of local law enforcement. A banging on the man’s door interrupted them, the man turning his head with a scowl. 

Ulaf took advantage of the man’s distraction to grab the man’s blaster from his belt and fire. 

The Imps came rushing in, saw the man writhing on the floor in pain, clutching at his side, and arrested Ulaf on the spot.

At first, the work in Narkina 5 reminded Ulaf of his days spent working alongside Neel, putting pieces together…only this time there was no end, and it was always the same, and the pain was there, always there, every ‘night’ when he went to bed, every ‘day’ as he worked, and every ‘morning’ as he rose, forced to do it all over again.

Until one day, he couldn’t do it anymore. 

In his life, Ulaf had stolen. He had lied, to himself, to his loved ones, for decades. And, he had committed an act of violence against another person.

He was not an innocent man. 

But he was a good one.

[alienheartattack]

Introduction to Demonology

Welp, I thought I was done but I wrote more fanfiction, and it's completely unhinged Rivamika incubus porn. It's explicit and definitely weirder than I usually write, don't read if you're a minor, etc. Thanks to the RM Discord for encouraging my degenerate ass. Enjoy!

You can read it on AO3 as well!

In the weeks and months after Eren’s death, Mikasa grew to dread the setting sun, to view the encroaching darkness outside as a mirror of the darkness inside her mind. Without him, without answers to the questions she’d been too afraid to ask, she felt adrift, like a dead leaf tossed around in the currents of life, unable to control her direction. Her body seemed to accept this state wholeheartedly, denying her the comforts of sleep more often than not. Most nights she would lie awake, replaying the last moments of Eren’s life, trying to determine whether she could have done anything to stop his thread from being cut short. Sometimes she would be able to gain a few minutes or hours of light rest, though that came with the risk of now-familiar nightmares of blood and steel.

She made the mistake of letting slip her issues to friends and acquaintances and was bombarded with potential solutions, and in her desperation she tried them all: warm milk, deep breathing, bitter-tasting herbal tinctures, every pill and powder and potion available at the pharmacy. None of these remedies could stop her wandering thoughts or calm her body enough to give her the relief she so desperately needed from her physical and mental weariness.

One night, she lay in the dark, having dutifully choked down some valerian root tea whose taste of sharp herbs and dirt came through even after adding copious amounts of cream and sugar, cursing herself for her ability to withstand even the strongest sedatives.

“I would do anything to get some sleep,” she murmured to no one.

Anything? a ghostly voice responded.

Mikasa sat upright, adrenaline animating her body, more awake and alert than before. She definitely wouldn’t sleep at this rate. “Hello? Is someone there?”

I’m here, the voice said. She could not divine the source of the low, silky tone; intensely masculine but with an amused bent, as though the speaker were smirking at her. 

Not here here, it clarified, as though it could sense her confusion. I’m not some intruder, but I can show myself if you want to speak face to face.

“Show yourself,” Mikasa demanded, her voice displaying more resolve than she felt.

The darkness in the room shimmered, moonlight and shadow undulating until they coalesced into the form of a man floating above her bed as though he sat in an invisible chair, his powerful limbs splayed in a posture of confident nonchalance. He wore a black suit and white shirt, open at the collar to reveal his collarbone and a hint of muscular chest, and held a delicate china teacup in one hand, taking occasional sips from it. But what Mikasa noticed most was his face: a strong, masculine jaw, a sharp slash of a noise, dark hair hanging over eyes that glowed an otherworldly silver, and a pair of curved, black horns atop his head.

“What are you?” she wondered in an awed whisper.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. You’ve never seen a demon before?” the man said. Mikasa shook her head. “Then I suppose it’s your lucky day to be visited by a high prince of Hell.”

“I— I don’t understand.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, but the man — the demon — still floated above her bed with such ease that she felt as though she was the one out of place, not him.

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “You want to sleep, I can help you sleep. In exchange, you help me.”

“Help you do what?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” he griped. He drained the last of his tea and waved the cup away, making it waver and vanish, the inverse of his entrance into her room.

“Well, excuse me for not knowing how to interact with a demon who shows up in my bedroom in the middle of the night,” Mikasa fired back, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

Her annoyance piqued the demon’s interest; his lips curved into a small smile. “My name is Levi. I’m an incubus, which means I get my life energy through sex. The exchange is simple: you let me fuck you, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll sleep like the dead.”

Mikasa frowned, holding his gaze with skepticism bordering on anger at his audaciously blunt offer. “Sounds like you’re trying to trick me into letting you drain the life out of me.”

“Tch. Not the best metaphor, then. Sleep like a baby? I just didn’t want to make you think of babies when I’m offering you as many screaming, gushing orgasms as your body can handle.” He shrugged as the filthy words rolled off his tongue, as unconcerned with his speech as Mikasa was scandalized by it.

“I don’t know. I mean… Eren…” she mumbled. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which lay clenched in her lap. My hands were meant for him , she thought. My touch, my body… they were supposed to be his.

“No, they weren’t,” Levi said flatly. “Where the hell did you get those ideas?”

Mikasa blanched. “You can hear my thoughts?!”

“Yeah, and they’re a huge fucking bummer. I get that you had a thing for Eren, but let me assure you, he is exactly where he deserves to be. Eternity isn’t long enough for that piece of shit.” He snorted, a soft sound of contempt punctuating his words. “I can make you feel very different. Maybe some things you’ve never felt before. I’ll show you if you want.”

“So you want to fuck me so you can show me what it’d be like if you fucked me?” She cocked one eyebrow at him.

“No, I mean literally show you.” She nodded and he reached out to her, two fingers extended like he was blessing her, and pressed them to her forehead for a moment. Images flooded her mind faster than she could process them: her throaty cries, his rasped moans and words of praise, skin slapping against skin, the squeak of her bed, the musk of sweat and sex.

Cold prickles of awareness broke out on Mikasa’s skin, goosebumps sprouting where she imagined he would touch her, contrasting with the sudden warmth and wetness surging between her thighs.

Levi watched as the familiar blush of arousal spread across her cheeks, coloring her gloomy countenance into something more lush and lively. “Don’t throw your life away for a dead man. Don’t give up one of the few things that makes life worth living.” 

She was silent, still unsure, so he added, “Have you ever considered why the pleasures of the flesh are Hell’s domain and not Heaven’s? Because they’re too good. It would be so much harder to keep the weak little humans in line if they realized that their limited time on earth was much better spent fucking than praying.”

Mikasa’s breaths came heavily, her body’s restlessness melting into arousal. “Look, I want to say yes, but I just don’t understand what the downside is supposed to be. There’s no way I just get fucked and then go to sleep. There’s got to be a catch. And what if I can’t sleep tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the people who are out there speaking with great authority about Hell and demons are the ones who are trying to claim your souls in the name of Heaven. They don’t exactly have an incentive to tell the truth,” Levi said. “Sleeping with a demon creates a bond, but I only feed from you as often as you want me to, and I never take more than I need. If anything, I’m at your service. And your cervix.” His lips quirked into a brief smile; she grimaced and shook her head at his approximation of a joke.

“And this is really going to work? I’ll be able to sleep?” she asked nervously, grasping for more reasons to refuse him but finding none.

“You’ve never jerked off so many times you fell asleep? Or whatever the girl equivalent of jerking off is?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t even thought about touching myself since Eren.”

“But you’re thinking about it now,” he said, his voice deepening to a rumble, like the ominous yet strangely comforting sound of distant thunder.

“It’s kinda your job as a sex demon to turn me on, isn’t it?” she asked. The acknowledgement of her arousal combined with the knowledge that he could hear her inner thoughts as though she was speaking them made her bold; there was nothing to hide from him.

“Not all of us work that way, but it’s better for me when the other person enjoys it. Their energy tastes so much better.” Levi swallowed thickly, his own arousal growing along with Mikasa’s. There was power in her beneath the hardened sedimentary layers of her pain and grief, the hint of it already beginning to intoxicate him, and that power would only grow stronger once he unlocked the secrets of her body one by one.

“If you still have doubts, maybe this can convince you,” he said, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, flexing it like he was lapping at her now-slick pussy and not the air in front of him. Mikasa watched his tongue grow in length so slowly she thought she imagined it, until it thickened and grew a fork at the end, resulting in two prehensile shoots of muscle that undulated independently of each other.

Her mouth opened unconsciously, her breaths coming out in long, desirous pants. “I want that on my clit.”

“Not yet,” he said. “There’s a process. Just let me do my thing and I give you my word, I’ll blow your mind so many times you’ll forget your own name.”

She sighed, sadness tingeing her excitement. “I think I need that.”

Levi floated downwards, settling on top of Mikasa, his hands planted on either side of her shoulders, his weight pinning her to the bed. She shifted her hips beneath him, pushing her nightgown up her thighs as she sought out his bulge. She worried about staining his expensive-looking suit with her wetness, but she found herself sliding against soft, smooth skin that was diamond-hard when she pushed against it.

“Where did your clothes go?” she asked, trying to figure out when she stopped gripping the shoulders of his sportcoat and started gripping the firm, defined musculature of his shoulders.

“To Hell,” he replied with a smirk. “I can’t make your clothes disappear, though.” He reached down and yanked her nightgown over her head, leaving her naked beneath him. His skin was comfortingly warm against hers, as though he were a mortal man and not a demon, and she found herself completely unashamed of her nudity. She felt so bashful even thinking about taking her clothes off in front of Eren, and—

“No more Eren,” Levi interrupted her train of thought, and bent his head to kiss her.

Mikasa didn’t know what she was expecting from a demon’s kiss, but the lush press of his lips was not it. He kissed her like he was drinking her in, sucking at her lips and twining his tongue — now returned to its normal size — with hers. He stoked her arousal like a precious flame, letting her burn brightly but not out of control. He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, stroking her with his thumbs and marveling at the softness of her skin.

“You smell like sunlight and strawberries,” he murmured against her lips, following his words with a soft bite.

She pulled away from him, looking at him with amusement. “I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“Shut up. I basically get drunk when I feed. Don’t mind the bullshit I say,” he grumbled.

“Don’t want to admit you want me really fucking badly?” she countered.

“Not as badly as you want me,” he replied, reaching between their bodies to grip his cock and rub its length up and down her spread pussy, waiting for her expression to register exactly how much length he had. His eyes flashed silver with excitement when her kiss-swollen lips formed a perfect surprised O.

“Can you make your cock change size like your tongue?” she asked, canting her hips so she could rub her soaked folds up and down his erection, coating them with her moisture.

“Uh huh,” he sighed. He wasn’t even inside her and he was already feeling feverish and frenzied. His lips stretched into a rictus grin and he kissed her to hide his excitement from her; he needed to warm her up before he could give her everything he had, and he didn’t want to scare her off with his intensity.

Once Levi managed to calm himself, he strayed from her lips, pressing hot, open-mouthed, desperate kisses along her neck, shoulders, and collarbone, finding that she liked a hint of teeth at her pulse point, but she cried out and squirmed beneath him when he sucked hard at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. He could actually feel her dripping on his cock while she moaned. Cradling her close with one hand, he let the other wander, tracing his fingertips over the lines of her body, the firmness of muscle and bone contrasting with the soft pliability of her breasts. He focused his efforts there, alternating between soft caresses and pinches, and the sting of his fingernails tracing around her areola and over her nipple. When he finally grasped her breast, she shrieked and bucked beneath him, her back arching as though he had branded her.

“More!” she demanded, her eyes shut tight so as to focus on the intense sensations. He obliged her, kissing her deeply and grabbing her breasts with both hands, massaging them roughly, pinching and pulling at her nipples while she devoured his tongue and soaked his cock. After a little while he wrenched himself away from her mouth and attacked her sensitive, swollen nipples, mindlessly sucking and biting at them, snuffling like an animal. Mikasa’s fingers grasped at his hair, tangling her fingers in it and occasionally pulling when pain won out over pleasure. She soon found he liked the pulling, and that he’d work her even harder when she threaded her fingers through his dark hair and yanked with all her might. When he looked up at her, his pupils were blown wide, a thin silver rim surrounding inky blackness.

“Don’t you ever fucking stop,” she admonished him after a few moments of staring.

He scoffed at her. “I haven’t even gotten started.” Before she could even comprehend what was happening, he had her legs spread and her knees touching her shoulders, his thumbs pulling her labia apart so he could kiss her pussy and swirl his lengthening tongue around her clit, surrounding and massaging it with the forked end. She trembled beneath him like he was electrocuting her, her entire body fluttering with unspeakable pleasure. Levi’s eyes rolled back in his head as her juices coated his tongue, sweeter and more powerful than even the finest wine. Within minutes she was coming, half-words and incoherent sounds spilling forth from her lips, a primitive language that Levi could understand nevertheless: Yes, more, I love this, I never want you to stop.

So he obliged her, backing off from her sensitive clit momentarily and snaking his tongue down to her entrance. Mikasa made a questioning noise, wordlessly asking him if he was going to fuck her with his tongue.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, already excited to see how she would react to his tongue filling her pussy, its tip pressing against her g-spot and rubbing furiously. Her moans grew raspy, her throat raw and dry from overuse, but she still managed to let out a healthy wail at his internal massage, and somehow got even louder when he traced circles around her clit with his fingertip. He gave thanks to his demonic nature for allowing him to keep a superhuman pace; whereas a normal man would get tired from the repetitive motions, he drew strength from her frantic responses. This allowed him to keep going even as Mikasa’s inner muscles clenched around his tongue, denoting her second orgasm, then a third in quick succession. 

The fourth came on much more slowly, but promised to be a big one when she started quaking in his arms. She was incoherent, her inner monologue completely switched off, her thoughts focused solely on Levi and the inhumanly wonderful things he was doing to her. Her nerves felt like they were frozen and on fire at the same time, heat and cold running through her in equal measure, her muscles alternately clenching and relaxing. Her skin felt cool and slick, though she could not tell if that was from her sweat or his, his saliva, or her cum. As he continued working her clit with his fingers and her g-spot with his tongue, she began to feel warm again in her chest and between her legs, shaking and keening as though possessed, then exploding and spurting cum all over Levi and herself as she screamed and sobbed through her climax.

“I’m not done with you yet, but let’s take a break,” he suggested, curling up next to her and pulling her against his solid, muscular body.

“Water!” she gasped, and he produced a glass of perfectly cold water from thin air, which she gulped down in such a frenzy that rivulets escaped from the sides of her mouth and dripped onto her breasts. Levi lapped the water from her skin and conjured another glass for her, refilling it until she was sated, capturing any errant drops with his tongue. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her warm breath stirring his arousal, but he told himself to stay still, to let her decide when they could get back to it.

“I feel like I haven’t touched you at all,” she said after a while, lifting her head so she could bask in the shining silver of his eyes.

“Touch all you want.” He rolled over onto his back, opening himself to her. She propped herself up on one elbow and let her eyes and hands rove over him, from the softly amused, almost affectionate look on his face, down to his corded arms and thick chest, his segmented and defined abdomen, and then the flat, slightly sloping plane that led to his pubic hair and the largest, most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. It was half hard, resting against his thigh, with a streak of moisture adorning the tip.

“Is this where the term Leviathan comes from?” she asked with a grin, wrapping her fingers around its impressive girth and working up and down his length.

He returned her smile, excited by her excitement. “Uh-huh. People think it means a sea monster, but—”

“They haven’t gotten a chance to see this monster?” she interjected.

Levi snorted a laugh. “I didn’t realize my shitty jokes could be transmitted through our sex bond.”

“I guess we’re both gonna learn some new things tonight,” Mikasa replied, looking down at him with a heavy-lidded gaze and tightening her grip. He soon grew fully erect, his huge cock pointing at the ceiling, drops of precum forming and spilling over her fingers.

“I need your mouth or your cunt, something, just… more…” Levi panted, desperate for contact. “It’ll fit, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.” He willed his cock to produce more precum, the massive organ becoming slick and shiny as Mikasa stroked him. She nodded, her energy returning, growing along with her enthusiasm to take his cock inside of her. Without a word she gripped him by the base, lifted herself up, and lowered herself onto him, sliding down as though she was made to fit him.

“Oh, fuuuuuck ,” she groaned, her eyes sliding shut in bliss. She stayed still, trying to get used to the sensation of being so completely filled, of having his cock igniting every nerve ending inside of her, but Levi couldn’t wait any longer. His cock began to move inside her, thickening and stretching her, rubbing her inner walls the way his tongue had done. Mikasa went off like fireworks, lapsing back into her feral, languageless state, broadcasting every sensation as sighs and gasps and yelps. Levi grasped her by the waist and thrust up into her as fast as he could, slamming his hips into hers so fast it sounded like applause.

She tipped her head back and howled at the overwhelming rush of sensation, being filled and fucked within an inch of her life. Each thrust felt like he was spanking her pussy with each impact, making her come a little, her pussy clenching around him, emitting little spurts of cum every time he retreated. In the midst of this he rolled her over, landing on top of her, still pistoning in and out of her without missing a beat. She bent her legs back before he thought to do it for her, taking him even deeper.

“Fuck, Mikasa!” Levi moaned over the sounds of her fevered howls and skin slapping skin. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Behind,” she managed to say; he didn’t understand, so he searched her mind for the mental image he hoped to find: him on his knees behind her, driving into her even faster and harder than before, his tongue snaking down to tease and fuck the tight bud of her asshole, her pussy dripping with cum and saliva, soaking the sheets beneath them.

“Whatever you want, my dirty girl,” he groaned, trying not to come just from the thought of him inside her twice over. He flipped her over and replicated the mental image exactly, thickening and lengthening his cock so he could fill her up completely, bending down and doing the same with his tongue on, then in her ass. Mikasa shook and sobbed beneath him, her body wracked with an ecstasy beyond comprehension, each cell in her body singing in perfect harmony.

Levi felt his orgasm building, starting in his balls and inner thighs, coming on fast and uncontrollable, more intense than anything he’d ever experienced. Usually he’d siphon a little of his partner’s life force while coming, still able to maintain his rationality during the transfer of power. This was something else entirely, a ball of white light and energy growing inside him, threatening to engulf him once it exploded.

Please, please don’t let me kill her, he pleaded with himself as he tipped over the edge, just before his thoughts faded into utter incoherence. I need to have her again.

His orgasm overtook him, the entire world going blinding white except for himself and Mikasa, flashes of intense color flying past him. Then even she disappeared in the blinding glow and his vision went entirely white. A tiny, rational voice wondered whether he was dying, but he found himself okay with the prospect.

When he came to, he sat upright, panting as though waking from a nightmare. Mikasa lay a warm hand on his chest, rubbing it in absentminded circles.

“You’re okay,” she said softly, letting out a deep yawn. “You just fell asleep for a few minutes.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “You’re alive.”

Her smile was crooked, loopy with exhaustion. “Very much so.”

“I came so hard I was worried I killed you.” His hand sought hers, squeezing it once, unwilling to vocalize the fact that killing her suddenly seemed like the most heinous taboo when she’d been a complete stranger a couple of hours earlier.

“Well, if you did, I would’ve died the happiest I’ve ever been.” She brought their clasped hands to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. He pulled their hands back to him, kissing her hand in return, as if to tell her that affectionate gestures were his job, not hers.

He looked around the room, suddenly disoriented, the surroundings and this woman both familiar and unfamiliar. “Was that flower always there?” He gestured towards a small clay vase on her nightstand that held a single bright blue bloom.

Mikasa poked her head up and furrowed her brow. “It was dead before, or at least dying. I was thinking of throwing it out. Did we do that?”

“I think we did,” Levi replied, letting out a confused sigh of a laugh. He pulled the blanket over Mikasa, tucking her in as she curled up on her side in preparation for sleep, her eyes already closing. He reached over to pluck the blue flower from its vase, inspecting its unfurled petals and the soft dusting of pollen inside them. Struck by an overwhelming urge, he nestled the flower in Mikasa’s hair near her ear, pleased by the contrast of blue on black, of the flower’s delicacy and the strength of the woman whose mind and body could disarm a prince of Hell. His usual protocol was to slip back through the closest portal that would take him to his quarters, but the thought of sleeping alone — without her — made him shudder. Instead he cuddled up next to her and brushed his lips against her forehead, drunk on the combined scent of flowers and sex and this wounded woman who’d somehow ensnared him. Smiling at how fortunate he was to come across such a precious mortal, he closed his eyes and allowed himself some much-needed rest.

When Mikasa woke the next day, she was alarmed to find that the clock on her nightstand read 1:47 in the afternoon, and even more alarmed to find that she felt refreshed and awake, ready to start what was left of the day with a clear head and an elevated mood. She flopped back onto her pillow, staring at the ceiling with a bemused smile on her face. The sheets were cool and dry beneath her, a far cry from her soaked bed a few hours earlier. The vase by her bed was empty; perhaps she’d thrown out that old flower like she’d meant to, and her demon lover was just a strange, vivid dream.

She waited for Levi’s voice in her head to tell her otherwise, and was disappointed when she did not receive a response. Sighing with disappointment, she got up to shower, trying to determine a productive activity for the remaining daylight hours: maybe weeding the garden, or stopping off at the market for more eggs and milk. Undressing in the bathroom, an azure blur caught her eye in the mirror: a crushed flower, as blue as the sky, tucked behind her ear. She cast her gaze down her body, inspecting herself and finding a bruise — no, two — no, dozens of them. Fingertip-sized on her breasts, larger and deeper ones on her neck and shoulders and thighs, and even a couple of scabs in the shape of Levi’s teeth where he had bitten her.

Her fingers skated over her wounds, making her shiver and whimper at the combination of pleasure and pain that radiated throughout her body. One hand drifted between her legs, spreading her free-flowing fluids around, circling her clit and fingering her pussy in a poor imitation of Levi’s supernatural prowess, while she replayed the previous night in as much detail as she could remember.

Not once, not even in passing, did she think of Eren.

I need Levi , she thought, fucking herself with desperate intensity as she braced herself against the sink. I need to feel him again. I need his hands on me and his tongue wrapped around my clit and his cock stretching me until I feel like I could burst. I need to come on him, all over him, as much as I can handle it.

“Come back tonight,” she whispered as she chased her peak. “Please.”

About fucking time you said something , Levi’s voice echoed in her head. I was starting to think you didn’t want me back.

Mikasa laughed aloud, joy and surprise and blessed relief enveloping her, pushing her over the edge. She came, her pussy pulsing around her slick fingers, her lips crying out for her demon lover.

Levi let out a deep, rumbling moan. That’s my girl. I’ll be there at midnight. Don’t bother wearing clothes this time.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, her mind buzzing with anticipation, and her eyes flashed silver in the afternoon light.

[ill-written-god]

T/M | 702 | f/nb human/angel | fantasy, horror elements i guess | continuation of 'curse', tentacles

Everything smelled of lavender, making her nauseous. She hated lavender. But she was dreaming, so she probably could change it, somehow. She tried thinking very hard about chocolate. Nothing happened. 

It’s an amalgamation of both her and Abe’s apartments. She’s looking for chocolate cake, so she steps into the kitchen. Abe is there, already cutting the brownies.

“Hi,” they say softly, hesitant. 

“Hey,” she answers, waddling through the fogginess of a dream. When she’s offered the cake, she bites in and some clarity comes over her senses.

“You said you’ll come," she says out loud to make the memory more tangible. Abe nods. 

“I don’t like invading your brain like that, but it’s the only way I can show you.”

They eye each other, Jade munching on her cake. She swallows.

“Well?”

Abe sighs, resigned.

Their skin peels off, strings of flesh forming the shape of feathers. Their whole body unravels, weaving itself back into a fleshy creature of uncountable wings, eyes and tendrils. 

Jade's eyes can’t wrap around the depth of the image in front of her, so she closes them, lights throbbing behind her eyelids. 

“This is me,” says Abe’s voice, echoing from everywhere around her.

“Is this what you were so scared of?” she asks, the sight still imprinted in her brain. “You look… right.”

“Did you not like the blond hair?” they ask, covering their nerves with amusement.

“Course I did,” she scoffs, opening her eyes again. It was easier to look already, and it probably would be with each time. “But this is more you.” She bites her lip, wiping away everything she thought about life up to this moment. “What happens now?”

“Nothing.” Abe shrugs with a soft movement of their feathers. “I’ll leave you alone, I just wanted-”

“Oh, don’t,” she rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been a drama queen. Just come here.” She spreads her arms and, albeit with a lot of hesitance, she gets a bundle of warm threads of life to embrace. After a moment, tendrils snake around her middle to hug her back.

“But we can’t kiss," Abe reminds her, almost whining. "If we do, I turn, and who knows what’ll happen to you.”

“You said melted eyeballs," she recalls.

“At the least.”

For a moment, she’s completely quiet. 

"What about other people?" she asks eventually.

"Only you will see me like this. For other people, I'll stay Abe, the local barista."

"That’s stupid," she frowns. 

"That's GOD for you," they shrug.

They stay quiet, just embracing each other and softly swaying to a song in their heads.

“Do I even need eyeballs?” she asks eventually.

“Baby…”

“What if we like… scoop them out?” 

“Lil, what the fuck?” They try to lean away from the hug, eyes moving to better see her, check if she's being serious, but she keeps holding them close. 

“I'm just considering our options!” she defends. “Can we kiss, like, here?”

“I don’t know, and I don't want to risk it.”

She hums in thought.

“But you're already in this form, so…”

“Not risking it, still.”

She huffs.

“What about sex?”

The tendrils around her flexed.

“Well, it’s safe, apparently. We can keep doing it.”

“Damn, GOD is perverted.”

Abe snorts. 

“But no, I mean here. In this form.”

Abe goes still, the tendrils around her tightening minutely.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am. What were you thinking, showing me tentacle porn?” she teases, and if the angel in front of her could blush, they would.

“Well…”

“Were you thinking about fucking me with all these?” she asks, caressing the tendrils that composed Abe, from wings to makeshift appendages to holding up the countless fiery eyes. “Would you let my eyes melt just to use me like this?” she follows, her eyebrows quirking teasingly. Abe squirms in her hold.

“No, of course not!” they protest, but her hold only tightens. 

"Just play along, baby. Ugh, this is the part when I would grab your pussy if I knew where to look."

Abe chokes out a startled laugh. 

“Oh, you’re serious about this.”

“How about you reach down and see for yourself?’

Abe does and then proceeds to show her all the fun parts of their true form. 

[dreamcatcher-roulette]

I've had your post up in a separate tab for ages, but life 😮‍💨😅

Just wanted to say I appreciate the in-depth response about RAID (and cosmic rays!) and especially the S.M.A.R.T. article - it'll come in handy as I'm quite complacent 😅 about my personal backups (I think my music files have the most "redundancy" via iPods 🤡)

*I dunno if you'll find it interesting, but the OP's schadenfreude in this Reddit post was amusing to me, at least 😅

https://www.reddit.com/r/Netsuite/s/Bxu6bFnrkS

But tbh, even for the outage referenced, 🤡 I would've been more angsty about the potential hours! of productivity lost (i.e. bc users getting anxious about deadlines, etc.) rather than the potential that our data pre-incident would be corrupted or lost.

Anyways, in any case! Thank you for sharing your tangents! I hope you're doing well!

Ahh what a great honour to be a long standing open tab. Funnily enough I started drafting this yesterday and got distracted from it as well. My original response to how I’m doing was going to be “semi patiently waiting for the Dreamcatcher comeback announcement” but since then we got Fromm messages saying probably not until at least June (noooooo) and now I'm also neck deep in ACC, much to my dismay. I have nothing intelligent to say about batteries, they’re complete mysteries to me as well, but they sure do exist. Unfortunately.

Anyway! I do have things to say about backups. Below the cut 😉

The thing about backups is that you can definitely get way deeper than you need to, I think it’s mostly important to be aware and comfortable with your level of risk. The majority of people don’t hold too much irreplaceable data on their personal computers, and the data that does come under that category often fits within free or cheap tiers of cloud backup providers. Before I had my current setup I used to take a less structured approach to backups. I sorted my data into three categories:

Replaceable, which encompasses things like applications and games which can be re-downloaded from the internet (and, if the original download source were no longer available, this would not be a huge deal);

Irreplaceable but not catastrophic, which encompasses things like game saves, half finished software projects, screenshots I've taken etc; and

Irreplaceable and catastrophic, which encompasses things like legal documents but also select few items from category 2 I'm just very personally attached to.

Category 1 items I had on a single hard drive, category 2 items I copied over selectively to a second every now and then when I got struck with a particularly large wave of paranoia, and category 3 items I did the same but with the additional step of scattering them through various cloud providers as well. Now that I have an actual redundant drive setup in a server I have Kopia running on my personal computer to periodically back up everything that isn’t on my SSD, but I still rely on those external cloud providers for offsite backups.

It’s important to note my setup is ultimately designed with hardware reliability engineering in mind but those aren’t the only factors at play when thinking about backups, especially for enterprises. That Reddit thread is hilarious and I can see exactly where both sides are coming from, it’s a common enough disagreement between people of different departments. Senior software engineers tend to be paranoid old bastards who loathe to trust anyone else's code, which is in direct opposition to so many “software as a service” business models these days. But from a business perspective it makes complete sense to always have your own copy of the data as well, even if it isn’t the copy being used. It’s not just loss of productivity (although I agree that’s the most likely extent of any service down time) but often there are legal obligations on keeping records of certain types of work, and, while I’m pretty sure a company could win a court battle to absolve itself of responsibility in the event of a trusted third party being the one to drop the ball, that’s not the kind of argument you even want to risk getting into when there’s such a simple extra safeguard that could be put in place.

My assessment of the risks of my own backup solution of course has a MUCH lower threshold for striking out controls based on cost. I'm a hobbyist after all, this whole thing does not generate money it only takes it. Most notably I don’t have any full offsite backups, which leaves me vulnerable to near total data loss in the unlikely event of a house fire or someone breaking in and just picking up and leaving with the whole lot. The problem with defending against either of these scenarios with a “proper” 3-2-1 backup strategy is that the first server already cost me enough, I don’t want to go investing almost the same amount into a second one to stick somewhere else! And paying any cloud provider to host terabytes is no friendlier on the wallet.

There’s also the issue of airgaps, which is something enterprises need to think about but I do not have any desire to entertain. If a bad actor were to infiltrate my network in such a way that gave them root access to the server hosting all my data I would have no ability to restore from a ransomware attack. Of course this scenario is very unlikely, I’m already doing a lot to mitigate the risk of a cyber attack because running my services securely doesn’t incur additional costs (just additional time, which does mean I haven’t implemented everything possible, just enough to be comfortable there are no glaring holes), but it’s still something I am conscious of when running something which is exposed (in a small way) to the internet. Cybersecurity is also a whole separate but interesting topic that I’m by no means an expert in but enjoy putting into practise (unlike BATTERIES. God. What is wrong with electrical engineers (I say this with love, I work with many of them)).

In conclusion, coming back to how this relates to my dreamcatcher images blog, you can rest assured that my collection of rare recordings is about as safe as my collection of rare albums is, in that, barring a large scale disaster, they should be safe as long as I want to keep them. Which is hopefully going to be a very long time indeed, because I don’t just enjoy the process I also enjoy the content I’m preserving. But the average person probably doesn’t need to put the same level of effort into archiving — Google and Microsoft’s cloud services have much more redundancy than a home setup could ever achieve and can hold all the essentials (like the backup of the Minecraft server on which you met your oldest friends, for example).

[vastayan--vigilante]

Writing A Background Canon Character - Filling The Gaps (pt.2)

Finally got around to jotting down the backstory overview for my portrayal of Scar. I've had it stored in my head for nearly two years and never got around to typing it up because ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯

But I do reference details from his backstory occasionally when it's relevant to a scene, and for any AUs/threads set prior to s1 ep4 events, this does provide useful context as to what young Scar's situation would be/what kind of circumstances other characters could have feasibly encountered him in during that time period.

All of this is completely headcanon-based, obviously.

#1 - Early life

Scar started out as Valkos, a sump-scrapper who grew up in the gutters with nothing. One of many kids orphaned by Vander and Silco's failed uprising, he got by through selling stolen goods and scavenged scraps with his friends Rux and Gret - their specialism was stripping sheet metal and other construction components with high reuse value from condemned/abandoned industrial buildings. The scrap was heavy, difficult to move, and dangerous to access; a high risk for high reward.

He and his friends found sites largely through word of mouth, by offering a small cut of the profits to anyone that came with intel on a place with valuable scrap. They often had to operate at odd hours in the night to avoid being caught by enforcers or opportunistic snipes looking to snatch someone else's haul.

At 16, disaster struck - he lost Rux to a structural collapse during an ambitious abandoned cannery job. Shortly later, Gret got hurt in a fight while transporting the very goods Rux had died for to a seller; one of her wounds became infected, and she succumbed to sepsis. Without the help of his friends, Valkos was unable to continue his scrap-metal scavenging operation - it was simply too dangerous to do alone, and the occupation itself felt cursed after everything that had happened. At that point, he started feeling the need for the protection of a larger crew.

#2 - The fighting pits

Competing in pit fights gave him the opportunity to earn enough coin to tide him over when solo scrapper pickings were slim on the ground, while increasing his street cred in the hopes of improving his prospects.

Security paid a lot better than scrapping, after all, and having some certified wins under his belt could make him be taken more seriously by the local bosses.

Being a tall teen worked in his favour - no one questioned whether he met the minimum age requirement for match entry.

As far as the young vastayan was concerned, he'd been old enough to work and fight over scraps to sell since he was thirteen - what difference did it make if he was earning his coin fighting in a basement of a venue that happened to sell alcohol, instead of in some back alley?

At 17, his fighting skills - namely his ability to take multiple hits and stay on his feet, enduring long enough for his opponent to tire and give him an opening to win - started to gain him some attention. He was recruited by a chemboss called Niska, who ran a local gang called The Rat Kings.

#3 - Chemthug operations

The Rat Kings controlled a modest strip of territory near Factorywood, in the lower Sump level of Zaun. It was the first job Valkos had with regular pay and while the work was still dangerous, it came with more breaks and downtime.

He maintained a level of rapport with some of the younger local snipes who'd once served as his scrap salvage tipsters, occasionally still doing odd jobs for them on the side for a reduced fee (often through bartering and trading favours/intel rather than coin, which both parties were always respectively short on.) He was largely recognised as a neutral figure, who didn’t kick down at the smaller fish in the pond, and was safe enough to approach for help - when he was on his own, anyway.

When out working with his fellow Rat Kings, he was known to curtly warn off the kids, or ignore them entirely - discouraging public approaches, as he'd learned the hard way that discreet dealings where no one could overhear were safer.

The only notable exception to this behaviour was if one of his crewmates, enforcers or other gang members ever targeted kids in his presence - in which case he would simply attack the offending adults and drive them away, before resuming whatever he was doing.

For almost a year, this was the way of things. Life was still hard and unforgiving, but he had a roof over his head, food in his stomach, coin in his pockets, and a crew at his back.

Then Silco took over The Lanes, and things began to change.

#4 - Shimmer addiction

The shift in power brought about a new power structure to the Undercity, and new opportunities for ambitious chembosses.

Keen to claw her way up the ladder to secure a seat at the table as a Chembaron, Niska sought ways to increase her profits and expand her territory. She set aggressive route tolls to squeeze tourists and unwary locals for extra income; Valkos and his crewmates were assigned to enforce these tolls.

(Notably the tolls didn't prove very effective; Rat King members regularly cut private deals and gave free passes to locals they liked, while tourists simply learned to avoid those parts of town and spend their money at other gang-run businesses instead, atrophying the gang's profits instead of bolstering it.)

The Rat Kings began to repeatedly clash with the neighbouring Hatters in an effort to take over their coveted ironworks factory - a strong financial asset that would have provided the income Niska needed to secure her hold on the district, while weakening her rivals significantly.

Increased competition with the Hatters and the Dregs (another neighbouring gang), paired with the launch of Shimmer as a potent new form of combat augmentation, brought about a marked increase in gang operation expenses and casualties.

Niska took to paying her people more in the cheap, readily available "Vigour" variant of Shimmer than coin (a growing trend amongst low tier chembosses to cut costs, cultivate dependency in their workers, and give them the power boost to hold their own on a playing field being dominated by chem-augmented fighters.)

This decision marked the beginning of The Rat Kings' swift decline.

#5 - The price of progress

As the primary target audience for Shimmer sales and its most regular users, the chemthugs were the first group to experience the array of serious side effects from all the street drug variants flooding the market.

Viewed as expendable assets by their bosses, Valkos and his peers were the unknowing test subjects for the industry.

When word spread about the "Vigour" variant of Shimmer having a high fatality rate, dealers shrugged it off. It was still selling, after all, and a lot of their chemthug customers had short shelf lives anyway.

Only when sales dropped off, due to less deadly, more honed Shimmer variants like "Blitz" hitting the market, did dealers finally start to phase out Vigour from their stock.

Some dealers who were reluctant to pour money down the drain by disposing of their unwanted Vigour stock, however, simply elected to blend it with some of the newer Shimmer variant and sell the bootleg mixture as another "new" cost-effective variant, "Beast" - which was cheaper and more easily available to the desperate sump-level addicts than Blitz, but turned out to present with eerily similar side effects to Vigour.

Overworked and underfed chemthugs began dropping like flies, as the highly addictive combat-enhancing Shimmer variants their chembosses chose to pay them in proved lethal for sustained use.

#6 - Breaking the cycle

Realising that the drugs they were being paid in was making them sick and steadily killing them off, and that their gang was a sinking ship, some chemthugs (including Valkos) attempted to stop taking Shimmer and quit their gang, seeking a different employer who could pay coin instead of poison.

Most gang defectors did not survive. Either because of ordered hits by their former chembosses for "turning traitor", inability to secure work due to the stain of their previous gang affiliation, death from the debilitating withdrawal symptoms, or death from relapse-induced overdose.

Valkos himself was badly beaten and garrotted for his attempt to quit The Rat Kings; he was forced to down an entire vial of the "Beast" variant of Shimmer in order to fight off Niska and his own former crewmates, and escape into the abandoned sewer tunnels.

While the Shimmer accelerated the healing of his injuries, and enabled him to survive long enough to find somewhere he could hole up away from immediate danger, it came with a steep cost. Scar was severely unwell from the side effects - and with no Shimmer left to try and wean himself off gradually, as he'd originally planned, the subsequent withdrawal crash was brutal.

His survival was largely due to the connections he'd made outside of The Rat Kings.

#7 - Starting over

His history of occasionally helping out younger, smaller sumpsnipes ultimately ended up saving his life - it was the lost children of Zaun who took pity on the chemthug, shaking and rattling in a condemned building deep in the slums. Ekko and his friends snuck Valkos water and food, ensured he didn't choke on his own vomit, and sat with him while he was weak and recovering.

Between the distinctive garrotting injury to his throat, and his reluctance to be identified (out of paranoia that word of his whereabouts could get back to his old gang), the kids simply took to referring to him as "Scar". The coined nickname stood as a stark reminder of the damage that he had survived, but been forever changed by.

The nickname stuck.

Shortly after his strength started to return, the disconcerting news reached him - Niska was dead, and what remained of The Rat Kings had been destroyed, wiped out in one final furious street war with the Hatters. His decision to leave had been a close call in more ways than one. Had he stayed a day later, he would have been forced to take part in that very fight, and died right alongside everyone else in his crew.

As far as he was concerned, everyone could assume that was exactly what had happened to the chemthug named Valkos.

Scar dropped his name, along with his old life. He decided to stick with Ekko's little band of misfits, to support their cause and help others like himself who needed somewhere safe to start again.

[timothyjchambers]

Moderating Threads at a Server Level for Indieweb.Social

A few days ago, I expressed concern over Meta’s new fact-checking and content moderation policies. When Thread announced its move to the Fediverse over a year ago, we chose not to take preemptive action. Instead, we saw that we had all the tools needed for proportional responses to potential threats to keep our folks safe. And as we stated then, we would treat Threads.net like any other Fediverse server.

For details on Meta’s new content policies see here: https://opentermsarchive.org/en/memos/meta-dampens-hate-speech-policy/

Although we haven’t received any moderation tickets from Threads users, not a single ticket, Meta’s updated content policy changes are, in our view, an action that by itself warrants a response.

Effective Immediately: Limiting Threads at Indieweb.Social At A Server Level

We’re limiting (silencing) Threads at the server level. Here’s what this means:

Limited Visibility: Threads content will no longer be viewable from the federated timeline. Threads.net content would be almost completely hidden from this server - for users who do not already follow Threads users.

Users who do currently follow Threads accounts will not be severed from those existing social relationships, and new users here can still follow Threads accounts should they wish to.

But this will almost completely limit Threads content to anyone not actively seeking Threads content or following Threads users.

This decision prioritizes our community’s well-being and safety. While we value federation and interoperability principles, we’ll always prioritize our users' needs.

Why Limit Instead of Fully Block?

There are no easy answers to this issue, and we understand some servers will choose to not limit and only choose to moderate this purely at a user level, and some servers will fully defederate with Threads accounts.

_We respect each of those choices. _

Or view: By limiting Threads instead of blocking (yet) we allow individual choice while minimizing the risk of harmful or misleading content spreading to our users and the risk of our moderation team being overloaded.

I empathize with Manton’s perspective: “Even though I’ve blogged about my disagreement with Meta’s new approach to content moderation, I don’t think defederating is the answer. It makes a decision for thousands of users, cutting them off from following Threads accounts, rather than letting each user decide if they want to opt out. It makes the fediverse worse and more disjointed, in my opinion.”

_But the only choice isn’t nothing, versus full defederation. _For now, limiting is to our view the appropriate response to keep our folks safe while taking action at a server level reacting to Meta’s latest content moderation changes.

Proportional Moderation

And at Indieweb social we commit to moderating all individual harmful accounts we see, and interactions with Threads content on our server to those following or encountering Threads content even while Limited.

We’ll continue monitoring the situation closely, and will move to full fediblock if we see:

Harassment or Harmful Content: Consistent failure to address harassment, hate speech, or content violating our TOS may lead to defederation.

Malicious or Spammy Behavior: Engaging in malicious activities, such as spamming or spreading malware, may result in defederation.

Even if we see relatively few issues but enough to cause our moderation team to be overloaded, we would defederate.

A limit of Threads can become a full block of Threads** instantly **should we see the need (limits are revocable while on Mastodon fediblocks are permanent) and we will be continuing to watch this very fluid space.

All this said: Am very open to good faith discussions on this choice in the comments on the post on my Mastodon account.

[fromtheoven]

‘ ⠀𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀.

⠀ — ⠀neither a miracle, nor a storm; just an abiding shade of misery.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

this section contains a sensitive theme (death). please do keep in mind that the writer does not romanticize the concept of death in any way. moreover, proceed with caution.

𝐘ear 2004.

a wail drifted through the breeze of may—echoing against the wooden door of the bereft. a little basket was found to hold another unlucky star; born without a name, nor even the date of her birth was lingering. before her own life realized itself, her fate was sealed at the hands of misfortune.

her given name signifies the time of her appearance at the doorstep of the orphanage; under the open sky of spring, she was left to unfold the mysteries of life alone. diem, derived from the latin word which meant “day,” echoes the reality of her first existence. deprived of identity, her name means nothing but a mere word to suffice for what was gone.

𝐘ear 2010.

an odd feeling unfurled at the bottom of her heart, flourishing the seed of what seemed to be dead a long time ago. it was the first time she had seen colors reflected on her face—or perhaps had the idea of what smiles were truly meant for.

a man in his 40s knocked into her monochromatic life, aiming to enfold it with warmth and affection; her life, once void of light, was graced by a family longing for the presence of a daughter. at last, she could be of something to someone.

kang dohee, a name that especially belongs to her.

𝐘ear 2012.

crystals of despair streamed down from the eyes of the forsaken as its remains pierced right through her flesh—swelling into an indelible wound; once again, the heavens have plucked the goodness in her life.

her yearning feet carried the gravity of her helplessness into the home of faith, seeking understanding for the disappearance of her adoptive family, whose traces were completely out of sight. hands clasped together, she prayed until her voice was only his; have the heavens forgotten about my existence? what has been done for an innocent soul to fall in the lap of languishment?

however, nothing happened. perhaps it is in the principle of a miracle to not appear right before one’s eyes the moment it was asked for its existence. thus, she was only blessed with an aching soul left by the whispers of her desperation.

𝐘ear 2015.

when toys are no longer of use, they are discarded in a place where desolation prevails; hence, their destiny lies at the mercy of the bygone memories. walking on the same horizon as them, she was bound to meet the same wooden door that opened its arms for her once-lost soul.

for years, the bulb in her eyes remained until it burnt out. now, there was only vastness in the windows of her soul—dark and beyond hope. it somehow became the same old thing to watch everyone come and go, letting every footstep bypass her. it didn’t matter anymore as clinging onto that thread once more would only beset her by the fires of misery.

perhaps the heavens could not bear to see her faith fading that they sent an angel to touch her being with devotion; the daughter of eve, server of the light, saturated the void in her heart and enclosed it with her fingerprints.

later that year, she found home in the arms of a devout woman—bringing her back to that kind of flame she had once risked for. her life was yet again tied with a string of hope.

𝐘ear 2021.

flowers blossomed from the depths of her foster mother’s bones, completely becoming one with nature as the wind lifted her breath away from earth. if she were to be her younger figure, she would have probably cursed the heavens for this another tragedy bestowed upon her. however, she remained indifferent. perhaps because she knew from the beginning that she was pre-destined to this endless curse. six years were enough for her to swell in love.

she had no time to ponder over the raw cuts of her loved one’s departure, for she had to keep moving along the waves of time. regardless of her will to neglect, these long-gone fragments resided in her deepest soul—constantly reminding her of the need to unlearn love and live the feeling of being alone again.

‘ ⠀𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺.

𝐘ear 2012.

having little to no recollection of her adoptive family’s disappearance, the elders assumed that it was partly due to stress that caused this loss. thus, whenever she asks about it, they would simply dismiss her questions or lie to her. however, it seemed like the pieces wouldn’t fit so she silently endured her overflowing thoughts until it went down the drain.

𝐘ear 2014.

unlike most of the kids in her orphanage, she preferred being out of sight as she felt inferior to everyone. she was frequently seen behind the building, reading books related to arts and would temporarily find solace in it.

𝐘ear 2016.

a year after being taken home by her foster mother, she was gifted a small pottery room in their house which became a path for them to grow closer. the lady spent most of her free time with her, teaching her from molding clay to knitting scarfs.

𝐘ear 2021.

following her foster mother’s demise, she was left with an inheritance including the house and camper van she owned. hence, to make ends meet, she made her home available for vacationers and lived in the camper van for three consecutive years.

𝐘ear 2022.

instead of attending universities, she chose to invest her time in working multiple part-time jobs to support her financial needs. around the same year, she found her interest in the bakery class near her place and signed up for it.

𝐘ear 2023.

she decided to pursue business after earning a certificate from the bakery class in her town. she sought the help of adults with the requirements and process to open a café. toward the end of the year, she started welcoming customers to her little café with a side of pottery studio.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Under The Knife

---

Chapter Snippet(???): "First Cut"

The smell of antiseptic burned Saville Calder's nose, but he had long grown accustomed to it. His fingers danced with precision over the fresh sutures, securing the thread and tying it off with a practiced flick of his wrist. The patient on the table was still unconscious, sedated from hours of invasive surgery. Good. He didn’t need the man waking up and making a mess of things now.

"That should hold. Assuming you don't do anything stupid," Saville muttered to the still body, almost conversationally, like the unconscious man could respond.

The door to the OR clicked open behind him, but Saville didn’t bother turning. Another nurse, maybe a nosy doctor coming to ask pointless questions about how he managed to save yet another poor soul from death’s doorstep. The usual.

But the presence standing just a few feet behind him didn’t feel like the usual.

"Saville Calder?"

Saville froze mid-cleanup, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar voice. He wasn’t used to being addressed by full name unless someone was trying to put him in the ground—or worse, a meeting with hospital administration. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker.

A tall man, dressed far too sharply for a place like this, stood in the doorway. Black tailored suit, crisp shirt, and a cold, calculating gaze that lingered on the unconscious patient for just a second too long. Cigarette perched between his fingers, half-burned, despite the massive 'No Smoking' sign plastered all over the place.

"Who the hell are you?" Saville asked, crossing his arms over his blood-smeared coat. "And put that out. If I wanted the place to stink of tobacco, I’d have taken up smoking myself."

The man’s lip curled in mild amusement as he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. "Arce Devereux. I’m here for him." He nodded toward the man on the table.

Saville glanced over his shoulder at the stitched-up patient, his expression completely flat. "Yeah, well, he's not exactly here for anyone at the moment. He’s unconscious. You want to have a chat, I suggest you wait for him to wake up. Assuming he doesn’t die in the next twelve hours."

Arce’s gaze flicked back to him, sharp as a scalpel. "He won’t die. Not after you saved him."

Saville's brow lifted, more in curiosity than surprise. "You have a lot of faith in my abilities. Most people would just call it reckless luck."

Arce took another drag from his cigarette. "Most people aren’t me."

Saville sighed, dropping his gloves into the biohazard bin. "Look, if you’re going to try intimidating me, get in line. The board's already booked for Thursday."

Arce chuckled, a low, dark sound that echoed in the sterile room. "Intimidate you? No. I don’t need to do that. I’m just here to make sure my man wakes up. He has something I need."

"Must be important if you're risking secondhand smoke in my hospital."

Arce's eyes narrowed slightly, but he extinguished the cigarette against the metal tray, the sizzle loud in the room’s silence. "You saved him. Why?"

"Because I could," Saville said, shrugging. "It’s literally my job. I save people. I’m a doctor, not your personal fixer."

"You’re something, all right." Arce stepped forward, close enough that Saville could smell the smoke lingering on his skin. "That man holds information critical to me. If he dies—"

"Then I’m sure you’ll send someone to retrieve whatever you lost," Saville interrupted with a wave of his hand, as though dismissing the entire ordeal as a nuisance. "Listen, Devereux, I don’t care about your little syndicate or whatever criminal empire you’re playing with. You want him to wake up, you let me do my job without this ‘shadow-of-death’ crap. Or better yet, let me refer you to a counselor."

For a second, Arce’s gaze hardened, as if calculating just how long it would take to slit Saville’s throat and walk out. But then he smirked.

"You’re either the bravest man I’ve met," Arce said softly, "or the stupidest."

Saville cocked his head. "What can I say? I like to keep people guessing."

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped Arce's lips as he stepped back. "Do whatever you need. But if he doesn’t wake up with all his memories intact, doctor…you’ll find out just how much of your wit it takes to survive."

Saville didn’t flinch. "Noted. Now, if you’re done with the brooding threats, please take that outside. Some of us still have work to do."

Arce’s lips twitched into a half-smile as he backed toward the door. "This isn’t over, Calder."

"I certainly hope not. This place could use some more excitement." Saville returned to his instruments, giving Arce his back without a second thought. It was a move of defiance, or maybe indifference—it was hard to tell with him.

When the door finally shut, the tension drained from the room, leaving Saville alone with the quiet hum of machines and the soft, rhythmic beeping of his patient’s heart monitor.

"Syndicates," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Always so dramatic."

---

[faunastanza]

Quixate and Ellaroux Solve Art Block pt. 1

(part 2)

Quixate and Ellaroux Solve Art Block, by Quixate, Ellaroux, the Principal, Andrealphus, Phoebe, the Conductor, and others

[nursing scotch] Floraverse, huh... that's a name I haven't heard in a long time...

The Egg Dream Exchange was back in December of last year so it took six months for the next update! It's another long VN summarizing a bunch of RP events no one outside the discord could hope to comprehend or follow. Does it involve new characters we've never seen before? Of course! Does it resolve any of the previous unresolved plot threads? Nope! It does actually reference some older canon details which I did not expect, so that was a refreshing change.

We open on another one of those tiresome DOS prompt-like windows, filled with impenetrable jargon.

 sysadmin just sighing at going through all this garbage

From what I've gathered, and I can't remember how much of this was actually in the comic itself or just from my general digging around in my fruitless quest for understanding, but Undertown is an area in Arcus where all the angels get shunted off to. I'm not sure if it's a city or a ghetto or what. Anyway, someone, I believe, is trying to find Stolas through a link with Deca and Andrealphus. Deca has Angelbox in his... filename...? which is the name of that zine that Glip did a while back with all the angel stories from their discord, and a lot of ranting about being canceled and their beef with Pengo. I guess it's a canon thing now? Maybe it's just a general classification for angels in whatever naming schema this is using.

Anyway, there's a mention of a "collapse of VOID" through an inversion on VOID propagation. TALwire mentioned Void Propagation back in TALwire's Game but it's still not really clear what it is. I think what it's saying that there's a risk that accessing Stolas through Phesund might have some kind of knock-on effects on the Principal (the most dangerous angel ever ever if you remember). There's another "active engagement" that interprets Keys that get read as "Hang on, what action is he overriding?" so maybe Keys are what are used to access whatever reality terminal this is? They're asking about Phesund I think, so they try to track down what it is he's doing that'll affect the Principal. They trace it to another angel called Quixate (Conductor), or maybe it refers to Quixate and the Conductor? They're two separate people so I'm not sure why they're sharing the same filename. God only knows. They try to reconfigure the Principal's VOID structures and are asked if they want to observe (the rest of the VN, I assume). It then follows up with "Connect to NODISK for details" so I'm not sure if the request to observe went through or not. Whatever. It's a framing device, albeit a completely incomprehensible one. We cut to the Principal, a kind of snake looking thing we first saw in Stolas's First Speech, and some new guy who looks like a mosquito train conductor. They approach a dark spiky pyramid (the Art Pyramid?). Principal addresses the mosquito guy as Quixate, who replies with little hearts in his text, calling the Principal his Prince (Prince-ipal). He asks Quixate to talk to the angel guarding (the Pyramid I assume), which Quixate is happy to do.  

my legs got caught in a taffy machine

Principal thanks him, calling him his love. Never seen this guy before but sure, alright. Quixate flitters and says he loves him back. We suddenly get a big chunk of text, I guess because Glip didn't feel like drawing it. It talks about a Bearring (maybe the guy who responded to Mesund in that deranged way back in the World Egg? I'd say Cozmo but lol he's vanished into the ether) looking at the Principal and being overcome with joy. All his pain and suffering disappears in an instant to be replaced with a tearful happiness. It says that nothing else mattered, all that mattered was that he arrived "here" with the Principal together, finally. Principal looks at the Bearring and smiles (gently/sadly) and also gets teary. It mentions that the Bearring and the Principal went through some kind of unwilling "separation" and that now it's not needed anymore.

note: art tba

He hugs the Principal and weeps and laughs for a while and wipes his tears on the Prince's robe. They have a good cry about it, and the Principal says he didn't want it to go like this and he didn't realize, and the Bearring says he knew, and they look over a cliff at some water that's the same one from the dream they first shared. If this IS the Bearring from before, I have no idea how he relates to any of this or what he was doing aside from getting yelled at by Mesund. I guess he's been busy. We cut to a guy wrapped up in scarves talking to Pryce, that bat thing that told that spooky story ages ago when Beleth and co were still around. She refers to scarf guy as the Conductor, so he's not the same as Quixate... but why was he in the filename... He thanks her for coming and says the letter he wrote had some real painful and personal topics (the letter that the random fox was supposed to deliver with that whole banana cookie thing back in World Egg...?). Pryce says she'll treat it with respect. The conductor asks if she thinks they can reach a good end to the war. Pryce says she does believe it, and that she tried to tell Andre and Baphomet about it but they ignored her. She asks how he knows that happened, and he says he had a chat with Andre. We get a shot of classic Andre in his painting form where he's dismissive of Pryce and says she's naive, and dismisses the idea that angels can be understood at all. If they were, they wouldn't be in this situation!  

andre always looks annoyed in his recent appearances, probably due to being taken over by glip

Conductor asks Andre why Pryce thinks they can stop the war, and Andre says she has a theory about emotional resonance and that it's possible to coexist with them (we heard about emotional resonance in that plotline with Pride and GalarianAmdusias that got completely dropped). Conductor says that Baphomet says they're working on some new resonance tech that should be a game-changer. Andre asks if that's the Vault project, and he doesn't get how it's supposed to help but Baphomet seems confident. This might be the same vault mentioned in that Mimkey Moose VN (god, just typing that name is grating) which also got completely dropped. I don't know. All this comic gives you is straws, and I'm grasping for them with all my might. We cut to Stolas talking to some kind of flowercat I think with Jupet hiding behind them. The flowercat SORT of looks like Jasmaby (who was in the title card for Hell is War Hellside Topside whatever) but did not actually appear anywhere in it. He hasn't shown up since that title card, actually. Maybe it's not him. I don't know, a lot of the character designs look the same after a while.

 pryce wondering why everyone's in her Disney's Haunted Mansion™

Maybe he did something with his hair. Whoever they are they're certainly Jasmaby adjacent.

Jupet moves forward and asks Stolas if he put the angels in jail (Undertown?). Stolas says yes, sometimes. Jupet looks disappointed. They ask if Stolas made them do "dying or worse" while the flowercat looks upset. Stolas kneels down and says yes, sometimes. Jupet says they think that's a mean thing to do and starts crying. Stolas looks upset at this, and says that he had to do it to protect Hellside. Papaya shows up to go "Here!" and I don't know if it's another scene or maybe she's meta-commenting that this is the right place in the timeline...? It doesn't matter because we just as rapidly cut to Andre and Baphomet talking. Baphomet asks if this is important since she's in the middle of a test, which Andre does not care about, and he wants to know about the Vault. Baphomet says the test involves the Vault. He says that he's been talking to the Conductor and thinks there's a way to end the war, but in the process of learning it he got mad at Baphomet.

everyone is always disappointed with everyone else

Andre says that Baphomet does all these things with his abilities and then doesn't tell him about them, which he's offended by. Baphomet says she has to do it that way to protect Hellside. Papaya cuts in again to say "Here! It's here! Remember!" while a little Quixate bweehorse looks on. Andre throws a tantrum, screaming "No!" over and over and saying she makes him feel crazy, with his mask revealing his internal face. He says that this is his art, and Baphomet tells him to stop being a baby and it's embarrassing. Finally someone said it. She says that others will be scared if people see him acting like that, which makes me think this is another veiled comment from Glip since they use Andre as a stand-in sometimes, and people often say they're scared of Glip for pretty valid reasons. We cut to Stolas in his dragon form echoing "Enough! This needs to stop!" to Quixate and Razca, who is in a state of shock, I think. Quixate tells Stolas to stop that, he's scaring her, although he says it in a weirdly bored way.  

meh. eh. whatever. i don't care.

Incidentally, I'm pretty sure Razca and Quixate are played by the same person, who I think Glip is currently dating. Just for some background context. Stolas echoes again, this time saying "you are upsetting me". Quixate tells him to cool off and that Razca doesn't need this explosive energy. Stolas says "You are increasingly more upsetting me" and I'm not sure if it's him saying this or someone else. It's still in quotation marks. Quixate looks down at Razca with sympathy, saying "Oh sweetheart...", reassuring her that he'll take care of this CRAZY guy for her. We cut to Papaya again in a different scene, asking if Quixate is okay. He says no and starts crying. Papaya sits down to listen as Quixate wonders if maybe he's poisoned, and that he thinks he's carrying something bad inside. His insides feel all twisted. "I almost- We almost died" he says. Papaya looks sympathetic, saying that he didn't die though, and that Quixate is still here. Quixate asks her to listen, saying he thinks he's CRAZY in the same big font as before, although he's not supposed to say that. Papaya asks why, and Quixate says it's because everything is all wrong, and asks if Papaya knows what he is. We cut to a different scene in a church. Principal is talking to Quixate, saying that "Key-36. Delusion" can be used by Arcus. Quixate asks what he has to do. Principal says that Quixate needs to be careful, and that they can't risk them tricking them again, or "using you", again. Principal says he has a plan, and that they'll play a game. Quixate says he loves playing games with him, and Principal says that this one will be very difficult. He says that when he's not expecting it, he wants Quixate to "take" from him, by force if he resists.

just threw a towel over my shoulders and called it a day

Quixate asks what he means. Principal says to succsuck from him, even if he doesn't seem to want it, and to take from his body. Quixate says he doesn't really want to do that. Principal asks him again, and when Quixate asks why, he says he can't explain or the "integrity of the path" will dissolve. After some hesitation, Quixate asks if it will be forever, and that they won't have to do it forever, right? Principal says no, only until they solve for the locks, and then they will escape (from Undertown I guess). Quixate restates the situation, where they're playing a game where the Principal wants things he doesn't want, and that it will help him. Principal says that it will help them both, and all of Undertown. Quixate agrees, but says that it hurts, and asks if it hurts the Principal too. At one point, Glip did a porn comic that stirred up a lot of controversy over whether it was non-con or not. Glip insisted it wasn't, because the victim agreed to being put into a situation against their will (they actually didn't and it's stated clearly that he didn't) because they wanted to experience tough emotions. This felt like a retcon because Glip didn't want to accept that they wrote a non-con story without meaning to (so they claim). This whole scene reminds me a lot of that. I don't know if it's specifically about that, but the themes are similar (the argument about it not being non-con, not the porn comic). The Principal starts crying as well, saying that he does not prefer the situation. Quixate asks for reassurances that it won't be forever and will just be for now.  

non-con me baby

Principal promises that if they find a better idea, they'll switch over to that. Quixate continues to weep, saying he's scared that he'll get confused, or lose himself, or take it too far, or that Principal will get too hurt. This is what safe words are for! Principal says that whatever happens they'll make it work, and that he'll always love them. Quixate cries some more, which blurs into a shot of the Conductor. He says that he gets these daydream-like things, where it feels like "the place me 'n the other monarchs saw the first lonely door, but inside". Way back in the lore, seven people went through the lonely door and got their memories wiped. When we actually saw the door in Who's left and what's right, we saw Unmasked Sun haranguing them with cryptic nonsense and then it detoured into stuff with Amdusias and Mr. 5 that also never really got resolved. A guy that looked like the Conductor WAS there though. He says that in the daydreams, he's this big ol bug that's always with the Principal, and he doesn't know how to describe it besides "torture", and he keeps getting the word "Undertown" over and over. He says it feels like being locked up and trapped, and then it hits him that it's Baphomet's Vault, and that "we can't kill these ones, so we're doin' this 'steada that". he says it gets so bad, like he's rotting inside. He says he got one daydream where he got this idea to be alone with an angel, even though you're not supposed to do that, and that he thinks the bug guy would like it if he got him a candle. We cut to a scene with Quixate looking at the candle on the floor near the Conductor, delighted.  

it's so cold in the train

The Conductor says he got the feeling Quixate was behind him, but wasn't sure if he'd be there when he looked. Quixate says he thought orange candle and red roses to the Conductor, who says he got the idea cause he was thinking about a book he was reading, but he cuts himself off saying he doesn't want to bore him. Quixate urges him to continue, saying he wants to know why he picked red, since it's "dripping with love". The Conductor says in the book he was reading, there's a bearring who lights a red candle every night looking for his lost love. Quixate looks upset, asking if he finds him, and the Conductor says he hasn't gotten that far yet. This is unrelated, but there have been a lot more male characters in Floraverse lately. Glip used to pride themselves on how few male characters there were in Floraverse, even threatening to kill off Cozmo, the only male character at the time. Nowadays though it feels like most of them are male. Just making a note of it. Some green and lavender skunk looking thing holds out a candle, saying it's a gift for Quixate for his collab for Gaap and that they put so much love into it.  

i even have a heart in my mouth

Quixate asks for more details, although his text looks weirdly normal instead of annoyingly heart filled. Teary, the skunk says that the whole temple helped by sharing a memory of a time they found something or someone they loved, and some provided herbs and incense and such. They're all rooting for Quixate and they know he can do it, they all support him and believe in him and know he'll find his prince. Is Quixate actually a Bearring...? I'm pretty sure they're a mosquito but this all sounds like that Bearring from before. I don't know. Quixate thanks them, calling them Prytaneia. More new characters. We abruptly cut to some kind of intense looking baboon, upset that Quixate tried to defile a ritual for the Holy Mother. They ask what he could possibly say to allow for any kind of positive outcome.  

baboon jumpscare

Quixate is confused by "defile", and asks why. The baboon says they did not consent to their energy for the Holy Mother and HIgh Priestess being used by Quixate, and that it wasn't for him. They say they contributed as much as any of the ten of thousands of Altharites, and since he didn't consent, the energy is defiled, even if only one person didn't consent. Quixate says he didn't really think about that, and then there's a shot of him walking with two other silhouettes I don't recognize, they're vague. He says there were a bunch of things he didn't know, and that Vi'toria said they didn't consent, and Quixate was like wow, I didn't think of it that way! Some spiky bored dragon goes "Yeah, apparently not". I'm not sure if this is the same scene or not, but we get a shot of Quixate with some angel looking thing with a quadrangle for a head holding a flowercat in its tentacles. Quixate says he's pleasantly surprised that there are dreamers that understand how important all this is, and it gives him hope for the big speech. He's glad that Phoebe is so enthusiastic about helping. I went and looked through all the posts for any details on Phoebe, and they showed up in Stolas First Speech to do that dumb word game with Stolas, which told me nothing about them. I guess she's here now.

the angels win the pennant! the angels win the pennant!

Phoebe asks what the speech is, and the pointy angel says she wants to discuss the future of Althar. Quixate expands on that, saying they're going to change everything around to make everything perfect. He asks what Phoebe wants to know, calling her "sweet thing" which is a little weird. The angel sets her down, although it looks like it poked her with one of its devil tails and she's bleeding. Phoebe stammers a bit, and Quixate assures her that she doesn't need to be shy, he won't be offended and that he's a really tolerant guy, calling her "little thing" now. Quixate does look a lot bigger than her. He says that he knows she was thinking it, and that maybe there's an autograph at the end of this for her. Phoebe, afraid, asks what his plans are for Althar. Quixate says that's a great question, and says that he's welcoming the Principal to Althar, and that they'll organize for peace, unity, and love. Phoebe looks aghast, then angry, and Quixate says that's the wrong face, sweetheart! All these odd endearments. Quixate says it should look more like this as he dokidokis at the camera.  

uguu

Phoebe responds in a really odd way, saying "I'm... I think you might  be a few too many steps ahead of me for that face to be on me, sorry." Quixate says he can fix that, reaching out to her. Phoebe says that she doesn't want it to be fixed, it's her feeling, she's okay with it, she might change it later if she wants to and it's okay to. This kind of unnatural, therapy-speak-esque dialogue is typical of Glip's discord, and it's always jarring when it shows up. Quixate says that that feeling is wrong. Phobe says that feelings can't be wrong, misinformed and misplaced yes, but not wrong. Quixate then says that he didn't want to say this while Phoebe was still here, but he asks the pointy angel if they got her antlers. It says "unknown" and that she wouldn't say where they were. Phoebe says she's sick of people treating her antlers like they're theirs. We cut to what looks like some weird looking hypno rabbit, asking if it pains her, and if she wants relief from this. Phoebe says she wants it to stop happening, so if that's a form of relief then yes, otherwise no, she gains nothing from not knowing or noticing.

 will the extras get off the set please

Quixate says he'll think about that, and asks her where they are. Phoebe says she still doesn't want to say, and she doesn't want them used or taken. She doesn't want them worked with at all without care for the experiences they hold, and that she doesn't feel that care is present. Again, straight out of Glip's discord, they all talk like this. Quixate goes "and?" and Phoebe goes on that she doesn't want to say because Quixate said he wanted to take them, or that his "warrior" wants to take them. This is like explaining to a four year old not to take your stuff. We get a big shot of Quixate saying that Phoebe doesn't know the situation she's in, since she doesn't need to be alive at all. We cut to some kind of garden, where someone asks if someone else saw a broadcast yesterday. They reply no, and the first person (Razca) says she saw it on a compact she hadn't used in months that just went off suddenly. She says it displayed the "mosquito angel" Quixate, and he said he's going to summon an angel called the Principal to Althar. She says he's looking for two "sacrifices" to do this, and there was a list of entities. He's looking for three sacrifices in total, and he already has one (Phoebe?). In the broadcast, Quixate was talking with two other angels, Balkri with a knife for a face (the guy above, I assume) and another one called the Wellspring, described as "like a fountain". They would all comment on people on the list, splitting it into Wanted Entities and Notable Entities. Wanted Entities would be sacrifices. Razca says she was on the Notable Entities list, and she is very shaken by this. She says that Quixate said that she is his favorite and his "damsel in distress", and he expressed good will from his friends to whoever brought her to him and that she and him would be "close". Afraid, she says that he talked about how lovely it'd be when they linked their Minds in a Hive. Beecat thinks that she would sooner kill him.  

bees vs mosquitos, fight

I'm pretty sure Beecat is Glip's character, while Razca and Quixate are the other person's character, Kuri I think. I wonder how many people are actually in these RPs or if it's mostly Glip and a handful of friends. Beecat says out-loud "I see". We then cut to a fully painted shot of Hellside with the eye moon. It's been an extremely long time since there's been one of these, and it's very reminiscent of the early days of the comic when all of the panels had this much care put into them. One of the trees really looks like it has testicles for leaves, incidentally.  

the eye of sauron beholds these nutsacks

Quixate and the Principal are walking along, and Quixate says he wants to spend time in the Principal's mind. He says that's a lovely idea, but they're being tracked by demons currently. Quixate then reveals that he talked to a very nice demon lately, which surprises the Principal pleasantly as he asks how. Quixate says that he summoned him to his train, where they talked about a book he was reading and how to end the war. Principal asks if he has any authority, and Quixate says that he's a monarch and he works alongside their leader and the painting guy, Andy. At this, the Principal is hesitant, saying that Andre has contributed to the magic that's killed their friends, isn't that true? He then says that he doesn't want to trample on Quixate's hopes, but he's just concerned that he'll also be in danger, and he doesn't want to lose him. Quixate says that he mentioned it, and the Conductor said Andre didn't like any of the death at all, and that everyone was really upset when he ate Big Star's rim. OH MY GOD, LORE!!! Principal is confused, asking if he means the cookie, and aren't cookies meant for eating?  

it was me, the big worm with the rags that ruined the world

Quixate says he said the same thing, but the Conductor said it was part of a star that was someone, and it made her very sad. The Principal looks devastated, saying he doesn't see a star, only a cookie, and wails that he wouldn't have done that if he knew it was a star that was also a person. Quixate says that he knows and he told the Conductor that, who understood and says that sometimes he sees things others don't as well. We cut to a different scene, I think, with the Principal saying he's dying. We're back in the church with the Principal in some kind of fountain, asking how it would fit into your current "void map of understanding" if a student has experienced fear that you would touch and violate her body. Didn't a dreamAndre say that Phesund had a crush on a student...? This full shot of the Principal also has those stupid manhole hands. They immediately kill the scene. Why are those there. Why would you do that. Maybe they're mirrors? They look ridiculous.  

consent sure comes up a lot in these

It turns out the Principal is talking to that weird angel book that showed up in the World Egg. It opens and closes and says that it doesn't fit and there are no results. The Principal asks for the book's opinion on the resonant imp Decateranomy, which is the first we heard that Deca is an imp. It's a meaningless detail, but there it is. The book says Deca is ignorant in ways that generate work for it, and it doesn't remember why this is but only that it knows it's true. The Principal says that maybe the book should educate him. The book asks what led to the Principal's word choice in that remark. He says that he's pondering the options available to him regarding the decision he must make. The book asks if it's a "transformative anchor point", and Principal asks why the book asked them that. The book lets loose with some technobabble, saying that it's referenced student choices in relation to transformative anchor points "within or without time", but they're choices available to everyone, not just those defined as students in Undertown. Decisions are choices and the word "must" has different meanings than "want", so it wants to know more. The Principal makes a dumb face with its dumb mirror hands and says the incredibly non-threatening and robotic, "your methods of teaching generate work for me that I reject at present". The book asks if the Principal is firing it, and the Principal asks it to explain. The book says not knowing is making it tense and it doesn't like it. Principal says that the tension is what he's harnessing. He then stands up straight and looks even sillier.  

by timmy, age 8

The book asks what that means, and the Principal asks if it's experiencing grief. It says it's experiencing wanting to die. We fade out to a shot of the Principal eating the moon's rim, I think, and then a shot of Beecat thrashing. Dog on the Floor is now Dog in the Bed Next to Her and asks if she's okay, and says she was kicking and punching. Beecat apologizes and says that in her dream, the Principal was making this awful noise that sounded like the end of the world. She wanted to stop it, and she wonders where she's allowing in violence, saying this is not good. We cut back to Papaya, saying she has a dream she wants to share. She asks Quixate to pick from three of them. He picks 3. She says that in that one she was a little fairy angel (Pin, from the World Egg) and she left her body really fast and shot through many walls and worlds. She says there was a painting for the "Buchbrennerin" (bookburner, I think) which just looks some lines and an angel is watching, which is a splotch with an eye.  

Razca's player is German, have I mentioned that

She says weird abstract objects fly at her from that corner, with the first feeling both real and imaginary (and dangerous) when she tries to catch it with her left hand. The second time it appears from the same corner, it feels more incorporeal. Pin comes to what looks like a pink mirror and calls out to someone called Niah, who seems to be another pixie thing. We suddenly get a shot of Lexy, Eevee (Glip's wife)'s self-insert, saying "Reality is breaking!?". Lexy is wearing a moon mask though similar to Papaya's, although it does remind me a little of those masks that got brought up in the Masked Sun and Masked Star and all that. Whatever. Papaya says she thinks it's because of her, then runs with Lexy to look at a view of the pink sky with a bunch of planets. Lexy says it looks like the world is ending, while Papaya says it looks like it's being born.  

first real appearance of lexy i think

Lexy wonders which one they're in, and Papaya says both. She runs towards one of the planets, then transforms into Pin along the way, then into some kind of bird creature that's some new stupid looking version of Phesund that howls at the moon.

 there are so many versions of phesund and they all suck, they're all the same

The new version of Phesund breaks down into tears, which leads to a shot of Phesund hugging some other person I've never seen while weeping. They look kind of similar to the above design though, so I'm assuming Phesund fused with whoever this is cause sure, why not. Who cares at this point. We cut to what looks like the trans food pyramid as some stupid looking thing spouts more jargon. It looks kind of like the dumb heart shaped thing from the Egg Dream Exchange one.  

maslow's hierarchy of gender

It basically says that if everything is connected to everything ever then anything is possible. It says that one way to experience this anything-is-possible-ness is to merge consciousnesses, two forms of which are "suiconvergence" and "suilege", which sounds a lot like sewage. Knowing Glip has a melting/merging fetish adds another level to this. Suiconvergence is when two consciousnesses work in total sync with one another. On denser more physical planes, it says that it can be easy to feel lonely if you forget suiconvergence is a thing. When you feel trapped in aloneness, possibilities shrink, etc. Related to the talk of joining minds in a hive above? Probably. We cut abruptly to the Principal and Quixate talking again. Quixate asks what a wretch is, and Principal says it's someone contemptible/despicable. Quixate asks what's a parasite, and he says it's something that extracts from another at the other's expense. Quixate then tells the Principal to give him what makes him a wretch, and he'll take it away from him. Principal asks why, and Quixate says he's a parasite, he sucks and takes, it's what he does. It won't change much about him, he says, but he wonders what it'll change about the Principal. Principal says not to become a wretch like him, and Quixate asks why. He reaches out to hold him, which puzzles the Principal, and he says it's so he can take it from him. Principal asks if Quixate would kill him, much to his confusion. He asks why he'd ask, and the Principal says he wants to die. You can see his stupid mirror hands here which again completely ruin the scene.  

i moonlight as a traffic light

Quixate asks what it means to die together, and gets "that means the world is rejected by two" in response. He says isn't that what they've been doing? He asks how they can die, and says they've tried many times. He holds out a box of chocolates, saying with a laugh that "that" didn't work on them, they know that. Principal suggests poison, which Quixate was also thinking of. He asks where you go when you die. The Principal says where there's a place for you. Quixate says there's always been a place for them and starts crying into the chocolates. The Principal says he doesn't feel like there's a place for him, to which Quixate says that there's no place in the world for him without a place for him too. He asks what happened to making your place, and the Principal says that everything he makes is contaminated. This next stretch is basically the same thing we've seen many times before - one character goes into a depression spiral, and the other one tries to pull them out of it. It's tedious since it's always the same, regardless of the characters, and you can feel Glip projecting all over it. This time it seems related to being canceled again, with the Principal talking about everything being poisoned by being associated with him (Glip's reputation was ruined, what with their husband coercing minors into having sex with dogs for money and them covering it up for him for years).  

i can't open doors

It goes on for a while, with Quixate saying everything will fall without him, while the Principal says everyone will be better off. Typical self-pitying. Quixate asks if he loves him, and Principal says yes, and Quixate says he loves him too and that he doesn't know how to help him, and it hurts. "I don't want a world without you. Is our love not enough?" Quixate weeps.

Principal pulls out the classic "loving me hurts you", flashing back to how he realized Big Star was not a cookie and that all his friends died because he ate Big Star's rim and is delusional/poison. He screams that he ruined everything and he's the one who should have died. Quixate shouts that no one should have died.

In the greyscale time, Principal moans about sucking some more, and Quixate tries to talk him out of it. Principal laments that Hellside/Owel won't welcome him, and Quixate insists they will, with Andre/the Conductor changing and wanting to help them. He says that dreamers are worshipping him, and since they care about him, they'll care about the Principal as well.  

most powerful angel ever ever being a whiny baby

Quixate says that Andre wanted to make Owel a place where the Principal would be welcome, and that his coming has been announced. Principal asks why he trusts the person who imprisoned them here. We get a shot of drippy-nose Andre talking with Quixate, who says that he's changed and when Quixate explained the situation to him, he wanted to help, and he wants to bridge between Quixate and the dreamers - the land of Althar. Quixate told Andre about his sadsack boyfriend and Andre sympathized, saying he struggled with someone similarly, although I'm not sure who he means by this. He said Andre trusted Quixate to help him remember, and that he was vulnerable with him and thus is probably legit. We get a mirror shot of Quixate/Principal and Conductor/Andre both saying they believe that change is possible. Quixate says that Andre didn't like war, with the Andre on the other side agreeing, saying he was tired of it. Quixate says that Andre wanted the world to be a safe place to bring children into, which war does not help with. On the other side, Andre says that Baphomet told him that necropossum children would be good at fighting angels, which gave him a weird feeling as he realized that Owel is populated by all his children/paintings that he created.  

three different scenes going on concurrently

Andre can't believe her when she says she cares about the necropossum children when she doesn't listen when he talks about how she treats his creations, as if he has nothing to do with it once he's done with it. Even more frustrated, he says that he can't even express any emotions about it ("Masked Sun forbid") or Baphomet warns him that if he doesn't control himself, everyone will know. Andre says "What's so bad about being an angel anyway?" which I guess is a reveal? This had no real impact on me and god knows I spent enough time on this. It's not really a huge surprise. All the Troupe are angels and they made the world, which we basically knew already, so whatever. Andre mentions Paige, Sample, Chisel and Double, which is like... Writing, Music, Props, and then GUY WHO MAKES COPIES OF PEOPLE FOR NO REASON JUST TO BE CONFUSING, WHY IS DOUBLE THERE, ARRGHH I feel like part of this is veiled commentary on people making fanwork that Glip doesn't approve of, but I'm speculating. Andre says he refuses to hide anymore.

[themagnificentmags]

Here's the first bit of a fic idea that bit me. I'm slowly chipping away at it but I'm pleased with this bit still so you all get to see it.

---

Eltura choked on the smoke from the warp-fires raging around her, trying to find anyone of her retinue left alive. She was not optimistic.

An enormous taloned foot crashed down on her through the flames, pinning her to the ground as the Edge of Daybreak craned its neck to look down at her. “You have failed, Child of the Dawn,” it hissed, the words echoed by the whispers still inside her head. “You are not the champion of Chaos… but still, you show promise. A thread of fate woven by the Great Deceiver, even a counterfactual one, has potential. Come back to me and become the beacon of Chaos you are destined to be.”

It pressed down with its foot, cutting her scream short, and then –

Eltura was somewhere else. Pain lanced up her arm from her hand pinned in the jaws of a servitor skull – a very familiar cybergargoyle – and the Edge of Daybreak was only a faint scrap of presence at the back of her head, from the shard of its blade Kunrad had stabbed her with.

She risked a glance back, and yes, there was Kunrad, pistol in hand and brittle tension in his stance. He looked so ordinary – he was still in his uniform, he had normal human eyes instead of the three fusion-engine blue ones she had just seen him with, and had none of the unnerving air of a heretical sorcerer.

Kunrad Voigtvir and a handful of lower decks mutineers really had been a threat to her back then, she thought, and had to choke back a laugh.

“The subject is in a state of heightened stress. Do you require assistance?” the Warrant Sentinel asked in a pleasant synthesized voice. Was it Nomos yet? Or had it always been Nomos? It was hard to remember the details from almost a decade ago.

“Yes,” she said with great relief, and let it clean out the trash. It released her hand and opened the door and she gratefully stumbled inside, ignoring the complaints from the blade shard Vog.

She really was her younger self, easily winded after a fight but not yet eternally exhausted by the weight of running the protectorate. She had all her fingers still, and she was wearing her old coat from before she’d had them add an armored lining, and her shoulder still had its full range of motion, the one the Haemonculus hadn’t quite put back together right in… Commorragh…

Eltura stumbled to a stop, fighting back memories of the dark city. “I can’t go back,” she whispered, pressing her hand against her chest where that monster had opened her up. “I’ll tell Heinrix about Achilleas. I’ll kill Marazhai on Dargonus. I’ll just not leave to investigate the ship. I can’t go back.”

Once she caught her breath and could actually see the Warrant instead of endless dark spires, she realized the servo-skull floating beside her had been playing vox chatter from the rest of the ship for some time. She recognized a few of the voices. Theodora’s voice cut through the chatter like a power sword, calling her forces to the upper decks.

Right. Commorragh didn’t matter while she still had a mutiny to deal with and a warp jump to complete.

Eltura followed the servo-skull out and sealed the chamber behind her, and just as she was starting to get twitchy about being alone, Abelard came in from the main entrance, in slight disarray.

The last time, trusting Abelard on the heels of Kunrad’s betrayal had felt the entire time like she was making a mistake, and she had spent a lot of effort bracing herself for it to blow up in her face. This time, she had to keep a relieved grin off her face as she let him patch her up, already thinking about next steps.