#brilliant the projector

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond - Episode of Journey's Beginning 11

The following is a work of fan fiction by Joshua D. Tarwater and is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.* *SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS retains full rights over the Sonic the Hedgehog™ intellectual property and can terminate or take control of this work at any time.

★~When I arrived the supposed verdant paradise was already gone. The Page General had already transitioned to a full-on assault of the resistance he had found on the island and all that remained was a sinking caldera of molten rock. There was a miracle present however, as despite the devastation, plant life was spreading over the doomed island remnants. In the Empire such a sight was unfathomable, unlike the Stone Ghosts that haunted the doomed island.

~Thorn the Crimson

Sky Ring peering through lightning riddled smoke Reflected on sea by burning ring of mountains Molten rock surrounding destruction born lake Sphere of Darkness rising up through cloud of steam A collection of airships reduced to giant gravestones Beach of burning black sand Sandaled foot pressing in Drops of Darkness dripping Dissipating as twinkling motes of the same

A side panel of a fallen airship was blasted out in a gout of flame and the black shadow on the beach casually leaned to the side as it flew by them into the lake behind them. The shadow was hardly so complete though, intense red light glowing from and disguising where the crystals grew from Tempest’s body. Even his normally blue eyes glowed red as he watched Bowlings stumble out of the wrecked airship.

“Absolute madness,” Bowlings scowled as he looked out across the beach at the black hedgehog. “A mere boy devastating an Imperial fleet. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“You talk to much,” Tempest declared coldly and stretched out his right arm to snag Bowlings.

“And I was right to consider you a threat to the Empire!” Bowlings snapped back as he conjured a wall of flame to protect himself from Tempest.

“Tch,” Tempest clicked his tongue as he was forced to retract his arm. His anger did not subside however, and he began to slowly approach Bowlings’ position. “I’ll bring your whole Empire down just like you did Rosy and our home. Just like you did our efforts to find ourselves in this world. I’ll bring it all down with this arm.”

“Don’t flatter yourself boy,” Bowlings scoffed as he sought some means to escape. “What are you distracted by Projector? I could use an extraction.”

“Did your friend abandon you?” Tempest asked as he closed in on Bowlings. “Like you forced me to abandon Rosy!”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about, and frankly don’t care!”

Bowlings’ retort was accompanied by another gout of flame, but Tempest’s speed allowed him to easily avoid it. In fact, Bowlings’ attack became the opportunity he needed to fully close the distance between him and the general and his speed allowed him to take his back.

“Projector!!”

A response came as Bowlings’ eyes widened, but it was not from Brilliant as he had hoped. Yet unquestionably the response saved his life.

“Tempest! I found you! Thank goodness!”

“Rosy?”

The intense red light that had visibly replaced Tempest’s crystals faded and was replaced by the soft purple light that marked his confusion. Yet flakes of intense blue light intermingled as he raced away from the wreckage and out onto the beach. With eyes that were once again blue he nearly burst into tears at the sight of the white leotard clad hedgehog girl.

“Rosy!!” Tempest shouted as he raced across the beach and embraced her in a tight hug, not thinking about the consequences.

“Tempest, your arm is going to try and eat me,” Rosy laughed as she let Tempest express the relief that he was feeling. Smiling, she gave credit to where it was due however. “But you should thank Mote for finding me before things got too crazy. Hee-hee! Getting out of there while everything was falling down has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Mote?” Tempest asked as he stepped back and looked up to see the fairy giving him a look.

“About time you noticed me,” Mote sighed before explaining herself. “Between you and my vassal it should have been obvious I would have sought her out. Though, you have proven yourself a worthy ally in my quest through this demonstration of destruction you’ve wrought.”

The destruction that Mote alluded to was not observed only by Tempest and Rosy, but again by Bowlings as he warily watched the two hedgehogs. “Just what is that monster?”

“That is what I’ve been trying to determine, General,” the calm male voice of Brilliant the Projector finally answered Bowlings despite his obvious physical absence.

“It took you long enough Projector,”  Bowlings sneered as he allowed himself to fall into a sitting position on the sand. “I swear, I was about to die if that girl hadn’t called out to him. Who is she anyway, I haven’t seen her before.”

“The companion I spoke of when I downed their aircraft,” Brilliant answered in a matter-of-fact way. “She also claims to have no knowledge of the Empire, but I’ve yet to test if she can damage my projections like the boy.”

“Then she’s harmless?”

“She saved your life General.”

Bowlings harrumphed loudly, but it was neither he nor Brilliant who spoke next. Rather, it was a deep woman’s voice that interrupted their conversation.

“And you nearly allowed her to be what ended your active service, Brilliant.”

“Hunter?” Bowlings asked surprised as he looked back to see a figure standing in the wreckage of the airship.

“Thorn, I was not expecting you to enter the mission field,” Brilliant replied with much less surprise at the horned figure.

Stepping away from the wreckage, with her hands clasped behind her back, Thorn the Crimson made her presence clear. Even without her heels she stood a quarter of a meter taller than Rosy, her faceless red helmet disguising any trace of what she was. Conversely, the spiked red armor she wore on her body over her red, tailed coat implied she could have been a quilled creature, but there was no way to be sure.

“I am here as a third party to assure the success of the mission,” Thorn reminded Brilliant of her role. “I’ve been scouring over your reports about the Ring Machines, and they did not match the data involving this Overgrowth.”

Stepping on a patch of grass that inexplicably grew on the black sand, Thorn ground it down with the steel toe at the end of her black legging and boot fused garment.

“What are you talking about Hunter?” Bowlings sought clarification from Thorn.

“The movements of the Stone Ghosts are focused on the Ring Machines based on their size, yet they move after that girl regardless. She is obviously the main target of whatever force is driving this vegetive phenomenon. If we are to save the Empire and understand it, then we must capture her.”

“You’ll likely have to get past that boy first,” Bowlings warned as he eyed the hedgehogs struggling to keep Rosy from being engulfed in the Darkness that made up Tempest’s right arm. “A task which may be even too much for you Hunter. Just look around you and see what he’s been able to do.”

“If he threatens the survival of the Empire, then he shall simply die here,” Thorn stated with little concern for Bowlings’ thoughts. She did not speak again until she was within speaking volume earshot of Tempest. “If you value your life, then surrender and turn over the girl to Imperial custody.”

“What?” Rosy and Tempest asked in unison as they turned to see the looming horned figure.

“What are you talking about?” Tempest managed a second question before finding himself lifted off the ground with a hand clasped around his throat. “Ghk?!”

“That was not the answer I sought,” Thorn informed Tempest, causally blocking his right hand with her left as he tried to strike her. Before he could withdraw it, she snatched it and bent his hand back, deepening his grimace of pain. “Your hostility shall only earn you a quicker death.”

“Get away from him!” Rosy demanded with a shout as she hurled herself at Thorn with a Spin Dash.

Things did not go as she expected though as Thorn would have broken Tempest’s neck if not for the explosion of Rings that threw him away from her instead. It mattered little as she shifted her attention to Rosy and kicked her up like a soccer ball before reaching into her spinning curled form and snatching her neck.

“Gah–!!”Rosy barely gasped as her attack was casually ended against her will.

“You need only be alive,” Thorn warned as she leveled a faceless stare onto Rosy. “That is all you need be.”

“I won’t let you hurt her,” Tempest butted in as he stretched his arm out and grabbed Rosy around the waist.

“Curious,” Thorn commented as she watched the crystals that erupted and crawled across Rosy’s body. “You truly are a problem. Then you have earned death without question.”

“T-empest… just run…!!!” Rosy barely managed to gasp out.

“Not without you,” Tempest gritted his teeth as he prepared to face Thorn, a number of Stone Ghosts closing in from all around.

Thorn did not answer as she turned her faceless gaze onto Tempest. At least not with words, as a toothy grin flickered into being on her helmet. ★

EPISODE OF JOURNEY’S BEGINNING 11 - END

-----

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#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic ring bond #sonic fan fiction #amy rose #au amy #ring bond amy #rosy the rascal #sonic ocs #tempest the black #mote the fairy #page general pinn bowlings #brilliant the projector #thorn the crimson

[never-sated]

#The Makioka Sisters #Ichikawa Kon #Criterion Collection #Never had an opportunity to use the projector for films before #But now we've got a stand alone blu-ray player because my wife is brilliant!

[proxima-writes]

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes. 

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York. 

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly. 

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?” 

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order. 

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you. 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you. 

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output. 

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years. 

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming. 

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor. 

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom. 

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on. 

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer. 

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space. 

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him. 

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips? 

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail. 

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks. 

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.” 

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis. 

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks. 

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins. 

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box. 

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm. 

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you. 

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom. 

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies. 

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp. 

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel. 

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body. 

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast. 

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls. 

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.” 

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded. 

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #alternate universe #no use of y/n

[hopefulromances]

Dude first of can I say I bloody love your writing second of all I just read that piece of reader and Jamie watching finding nemo and I had an idea. What if Jamie is watching when Harry met Sally for movie night with the team and it literally gives him the biggest mindblown lightbulb moment that he’s in love with the reader aka his best friend of over 10 years. The ending of it always makes me cry.

This is crazy did you read my other drabble where Jamie and reader watch when Harry Met Sally (I love that movie) But I LOVE THIS idea.

The boys filed into the rec room, the chairs already set up for the boys to be able to watch whatever movie Ted picked out for tonight. You were in there, finishing setting up the projector cause lord knows that if you didn't do it Ted would never be able to figure it out.

"And there!" You finished, throwing your hands up in success. "All you have to do is press play."

"Well, now, thank you (Y/N), you've been a big help," Ted grinned. "Alright now, folks! Let's file in, get your seat we're gonna get started soon!"

"(Y/N)!" Jamie called over to you. You looked over at him and smiled and Jamie's heart about stopped. Sure he was in love with you. You were brilliant. But it wasn't like he would ever say anything and ruin the friendship you had. "Over here."

"Sorry, Jamie, I got work to do, won't be able to stay tonight," you told him walking towards the door. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

You walked out of the door. Some of the team pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as they walked by. Was it really that. obvious? How could you not see it?

Jamie elected to slump down next to Sam and Isaac instead, unable to keep the pout off his face.

"It is alright, Jamie," Sam comforted, nudging him. "She's just busy tonight."

"Yeah! Anyone with eyes can see she's into you," Isaac agreed.

"Thanks, lads, but I think it's hopeless," Jamie grumbled.

"Alright, greyhounds, now!" Ted clapped his hands getting the attention up at the front. "Tonight we're watching a movie about friendship, and love, and how friendship and love walk a very dangerous line. But all you need is that one push to spill your guts."

"Fucks sake," Jamie muttered, adjusting his seat.

"And without further ado, When Harry met Sally!" Ted scurried out from in front of the projector. Jamie rolled his eyes and settled in for another rom com that he didn't enjoy because all he could think about is (Y/N),

But what surprised him was how great the movie was. The writing, the flirting, it was all so comparable to his own life. By the end of it, he was leaning forward in his seat as Billy Crystal rushed down the streets of New York to find Meg Ryan.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jamie felt him mind racing as he listened to that line. He thought about you and the butterflies that followed him around whenever you were near. The smile that lit up the room. The laugh that could save lives. He wanted to be with you and he wanted to be with you right now.

Just as the lights turned on, Jamie shot up out of his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the boys cheered as he did.

Ted turned to Beard. "I reckon you owe me 10 pounds."

Meanwhile, Jamie was rushing to your room. When he arrived, he knocked fiercely on the door, not letting up until you opened it.

"Jamie? What on earth-"

"I love you," he blurted out. You eyes widened, trying to take in what he was saying. "I love you. Like I love the way you smile, I love the way you talk, I love the way you always seem to know what I want for lunch even though I don't know what I want for lunch."

"Jamie wha-"

"I love you," He repeated. "You know my hair dye brand, you know that I like the temperature in my house to be 18 degrees. Not 20, not 15, 18 degrees. I love you (Y/N)."

You were speechless. You couldn't form a thought into a word if you wanted to. You just looked back and forth between Jamie's eyes trying to decipher if this was a joke.

"(Y/N), I love you and when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you-"

"Want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible..." You finished the quote, smiling softly.

"I know this is sudden, and whatever, but I just... I need you to know."

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me now?"

"God, yes."

And he did. He kissed you. He kissed you quite a lot actually.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #drabble night #drabble #fluff

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 1: Kemal, the janitor

There was a lot at stake for Patrick. Actually, it was about everything. He had invested an incredible amount of time and money in preparing for this appointment. He had to be successful. And he would be successful. His idea was brilliant. His preparation was excellent. He took a deep breath. The projector projected the image of a young athletic man onto the wall. The young man was obviously a janitor or something. The young man was made of plastic. And a small army of young athletic men made of plastic, one of whom was currently having an image projected onto the wall, stood on the table in front of Patrick.

"Gentlemen, the Barbie movie gives your product a tailwind that will open up completely new markets. Barbie and Ken have become socially acceptable. And I'm convinced that this offers unimagined opportunities for marketing Ken in particular"

It seems to be going well. The Head of Product Management reached for the janitor. And turned it in his hand.

"Whereas in the past, gay men never dared to buy a Ken doll without lying about it being for their little niece, today hundreds of thousands of customers with purchasing power can imagine having a Ken doll on the shelf in their bedroom. But these customers also need Kens that serve stereotypes other than the Malibu boy."

A young man, who looked a bit like Malibu Ken himself, smiled as he reached for the doll, which was dressed like a British redneck. Only in pink. It went really well!

"As well as new Kens, which cover current popular gay fetishes, we should also take into account the fact that Barbie is now a manager or a lawyer. So Ken should also be allowed to be a janitor or a garbage man. Especially as this also appeals to potential customers' fetishes."

A member of the controlling department took the figure of the soccer player in his hand. Patrick seized the opportunity immediately. He switched to the foil with the Germanic-looking Ken, who was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and had tattoos on one arm and one leg.

"With the European Football Championship in Germany this year, we have a major event that we can also exploit without paying license fees. We can place footballers, soccer fans and, as the epitome of masculinity, soccer hooligans. Everything that has to do with soccer this year…".

The head of product management cleared his throat. "May I interrupt for a moment?" he asked. Patrick nodded at him with a winning smile. "If you want my opinion, pack up your gay shit right now and leave the building. I didn't want this movie and I hate it. And the reason is that I feared excesses like this. I don't want a Ken who dresses like a faggot or a right-wing hooligan. For fuck's sake, does the prototype bodybuilder actually have steroid acne on his shoulders? Nobody wants to see that. And I certainly don't want to see it. Thank you for your efforts. But please leave. Go quickly and go far!"

Patrick stood open-mouthed in front of the screen with his presentation for a few seconds. Then he packed up without a word. He stuffed his artistically created dolls into a bag, put the computer in his laptop bag and left the room. He was on the verge of tears. He stuffed the bag with the dolls into the nearest garbage can. And then he left the building. Let Ken and Barbie choke you to death. Let them die of their fantasies. Anyone who even looked at Ken should become his fucking brainless image. How could he have thought he could make his fortune with these fucking figures? Never again!

There was an awkward silence in the meeting room. Not everyone present shared their boss's opinion. But no one dared to disagree. The two lucky ones who had a figurine in their hands discreetly slipped it into their jacket pocket. The head of product management took the janitor's Ken, stood up and said that he wanted to discuss this perversity with the legal department tomorrow.

It was mid-June. It didn't get dark until very late. Maybe that's why he hadn't even noticed how late it was. It was definitely time to call it a day. Where had that damn doll gone? He had it here on his desk… It was just too late, he was tired. But before he left, he had to go to the toilet. Damn it, he had to add toilet paper. And empty the garbage can. The snobs who were allowed to use the boardroom toilet often behaved like the ultimate barbarians. But it felt good to piss here. He would never get the privilege of doing it officially. But at this time of day? Who was going to forbid him?

The cleaning crew wouldn't be here for a few hours. He wiped over the urinals and washbasins with a few used paper towels. It was time to call it a day. But on the way out he could empty a few of the garbage cans along the way. Normally, he didn't pay attention to the contents of the garbage cans. Mostly boring papers. He assumed that the important stuff went into the shredding containers. There was something in one of the garbage cans on the conference floor that didn't belong there. Dolls. Various dolls that looked like Ken. In cool clothes. He'd never seen them like that before. Who threw something like that away? He packed it up once. It couldn't do any harm. Maybe he could sell the dolls…

Yes, he didn't have much to do with the blond Ken who stuck his mop in a pink cleaning bucket. But Kemal had even less to do with the powerful head of product management. He didn't want to deal with that kind of shit. He was here to service the air conditioning, replace light bulbs and sometimes fix faults in the elevator. It was a shitty job. But someone had to do it.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #race change #age reduction #ai image #barbie tf #ken tf #kenergy

[f10werfae]

Silly Me

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Singer!Reader

Summary: Innocent flirting between two stars + a cockblock James Corden = ??

- Requests are open! (May take longer because I have a few to write)

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Welcome To The Fae Station: Full Masterlist✨

Library of Henry Cavill: Henry Cavill Masterlist♥️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Fixing my two piece outfit, which consisted of a corset and flares, I stood by the stage as James Corden spoke to the audience.

Having known James for years due to both being from the UK, it was practically tradition for me to come onto his show every time I produced a new album.

Walking to the sofa, the cheers of the audience filled my ears as my long term best friend smiled at me teasingly. What was that all about?

“Hello Y/n, it’s been a while since the last time i’ve seen you” He beamed his arms going up in the air dramatically, bringing me in for a massive bear hug, this man was basically my older brother in the industry.

“I know I know, i’ve been pretty busy with the album and promotions, you know how it is”

“So this is your new album, Waves” James pulled out the new vinyl I produced, the cover a deep blue resembling the ocean, ripples towards the outer corner with a girl seeming to be drifting along in the middle.

“Tell us, what’s it about? Because the artwork itself is so unique”

“Well it’s kind of a long story? Growing up I always loved seeing the ocean, the moon, all that sorta stuff. My greatest thoughts or genuine happiest moments are by the ocean or looking at the moon. So these songs are supposed to resemble the emotions I felt in those moments if that makes sense” I explained, trying to choose my words carefully, knowing damn well my album had a complicated enough origin story.

“That’s brilliant, I actually can’t wait to hear the songs, when’s it come out again?”

“SEPTEMBER 22ND SO PUT IT ON YOUR CALENDARS” I shouted at the audience laughing,

“Alright now, how about a game?” James said cocking an eyebrow up, holding a projector clicker in his right hand.

“That doesn’t sound good” I replied nervously, my hands going to cup my own face, as I watched the words 'Who would you rather?' pop up on the massive screen behind us.

“Oh crap I already know what you’re doing”

“The rules of the game are simple, I show two famously handsome men and you choose between the two”

“Alright alright lets go” I waved dismissively, turning my body sideways to look at the screen.

“Harry Styles or Zayn Malik”

“See i’ve collaborated with both and they’re both such amazing people and artists-“

“This isn’t about professionalism love, who would you choose to marry?”

“Eh uh- probably Zayn?”

“Alright Zayn Malik, or Chris Hemsworth?”

“Chris Hemsworth, i’m sorry Zayn but that man is a dilf”

“Chris Hemsworth, or Anthony Mackie”

“Anthony Mackie, he makes me laugh”

“See isn’t this game easy?” James asked showing that I had nothing to worry about

“Anthony or Henry Cavill”

“Henry Cavill”

“That was quick Y/n”

“Yeah yeah i know, can you blame me though?”

“Henry Cavill, or Sebastian stan?”

“Henry”

“Henry Cavill, or Tom Holland”

“You of all people should know i’m sticking with Henry to the end James, that man is perfection”

“Oh really”James quirked

“Hell yeah”

“Have you met him before”

“ONCE, and it was on the premiere for The Witcher, he smiled at me for a good three seconds” I fan-girled, feeling my stomach start to bubble up with butterflies.

“Right well here’s your second time then, COME ON OUT HENRY!”

“Hold on wha-“

Turning towards the side stage I saw the one and only Henry Cavill, smiling and waving at the audience as he walked towards James and I. Looking back at James, I felt myself melt knowing he did this on purpose, he knew Henry was my major celebrity crush.

“Henry you can sit beside the lovely Y/n there” Within seconds I was no longer alone on the sofa, Henry’s hand laying across the back of the chair making me squeal internally.

“So Henry you’ve been listening in haven’t you?”

“Indeed I have”

“This is so embarrassing” I cringed, my head falling into my hands as laughter surrounded me from both the audience and the two men beside me.

“i’m quite flattered love to be honest, it’s not everyday a gorgeous woman like yourself seems to be interested”

“Shut up you’re Henry Cavill, you’ve got trucks load of women waiting to even see you” I snarked back jokingly, finally making eye contact with him for the first time since he joined us on set.

“Well, they’re not you are they?” He replied back cheekily, his flirt not going unnoticed with the whole crowd 'oo' ing at our interaction.

Deciding not to even try to respond back I looked back at James who had now stood up, gesturing us to follow him to a nearby table.

“Hell no James, you’re a prick for this” Standing a few feet away, I saw the dreaded 'Spill your guts or fill your guts' set up, multiple dishes covered up with three chairs.

“Oh come on Y/n, it’s all part of the experience, just because you’re my fav doesn’t mean you get off that easy”

Huffing out I walked towards my seat, only to have it pulled out by Henry who sent me a devilishly handsome smirk before I thanked him

“Okay Y/n, i’m going to give you the Bull's penis” James laughed turning the table towards me, both him and Henry grimacing at the sight of the thing.

“Ugh how fitting” I joked prodding at it with my fork, my throat already closing up at the thought of even swallowing that thing.

“Okay your question is, what attracts you to Mr.Cavill here?”

“You’re such a prick James, I really don’t wanna eat this penis.”

“Well then answer the question”

“First off he’s fit, from what i’ve heard from mutual friends he has such an adorable and loving personality and he has a cute dog” I finished looking at James, trying to avoid the visible smirk on Henry's face from the side.

“Okay, Henry I give you the Cow's tongue” I squirmed, rolling it towards him as he took in a deep breath, then sat up right to his full height which was even more intimidating.

“The card asks, what’s your ideal woman?”

“You” He answered bluntly, his arms crossing over his chest in victory,

“B-but you don’t even know me”

“That’s what you think gorgeous”

“Wait what do you mean-“

“Anyway lovebirds hate to interrupt you, but it’s my turn” James laughed leaning forward onto the table, grimacing when he accidentally touched the bird sperm

“Okay James you’ll get the bird sperm then for being a cockblock” Henry sighed out, his hand going out for a card which he dropped onto the floor.

“Silly me” He chuckled deeply, but when he came to sit back up his hand dragged up my leg under the table cloth, my body freezing at his touch, in a good way. Tingles spreading through all my nerves.

#romance #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #rpf

[ramonaboat]

More Alex Claremont-Diaz in NYU

Because if Casey was to write a book just about him navigating student life, having more of the college experience he didn’t get in Georgetown, while being Henry’s bf… I would read it hundreds of times over. So to fill in the need, I will supply my own headcanons

Alex gets a solid stable friend group throughout, and somehow he’s made friends with who many consider underdogs. One of them is the daughter of a plumber in NYC, who got into NYU for her undergrad under a full scholarship. One of them is a gay man who was disowned by his family, but is happily married now. His more privileged friends are more aware about the advantages they have and are not assholes about it. He himself is privileged guy after all

He does have classmates who he can sense want to use him for their own gain and social brownie points. His friends are protective about it

When it was apparent to the students that their friend group was a thing, all of a sudden the once underdogs became more popular just by association with Alex. Social climbers want in. Alex kinda feels bad about it but his friends reassure him

June and Nora are happy that Alex has friends from school and outside the Super Six

Alex’s NYU friends get close to Henry eventually, as the former hosts a lot of study sessions at the brownstone as soon as he’s sure he can trust them

Alex’s friends are fascinated by the fact that he can be so ordinary sometimes. Like yes, he’s a brilliant student, was summa cum laude for his undergrad, was a freaking prodigy, but he also gets toothpaste stains on his hoodie and forgets to shave his stubble when he’s busy. He also falls asleep in the library, waking up to one side of his curls flatter than the other. He trips and sneezes and makes mistakes and had to take several trips to the bathroom after insisting on eating his leftovers gone bad (he didn’t have time to get anything else that day, okay?) He was extraordinary but ordinary

They help him get through his fear of disappointing people, of always needing to prove that Alex Claremont-Diaz is deserving because of his own brilliance and not because of his parents (particularly his mother)

The friends also freak out when his Mom calls. They have moms that call them too but like.. hearing the President’s voice on the other line just talking to her kid and asking normal mother questions was a surreal experience. That they don’t quite get used to it.

For one of his friend’s birthdays he gives her an Apple Pencil, because she saved up to buy an iPad from her corporate job so she can annotate her readings from there but mostly used non-Apple styluses cause she didn’t have the budget for an Apple Pencil yet. When she received it she was shocked cause it was expensive for a stylus but Alex insisted. He doesn’t throw around his money, he doesn’t like to make his friends uncomfy with expensive gifts, but he knows when to help

They know Alex loves him when people genuinely don’t know things about him. There are loads of facts about him online and in the press, so when people ask him about things they know are out there and are public knowledge he gets excited. People often already know things about him, it gives him a semblance of normalcy

He still occasionally likes the spotlight though, he is ACD. He loves it most when he can use his influence to do good, like give spotlight to certain charities

He has a cool prof one semester that made them have a karaoke session during the last class. Used the class projector for it and everything. Alex sang London Boy and the class went wild

He once brings a tupperware filled with cookies to share. “My boyfriend baked them,” he said nonchalantly as if his boyfriend weren’t the Prince of freaking England. “He doesn’t have much kitchen experience but he’s been practicing and he’s pretty proud of this one” This was when his friends hadn’t met Henry yet so they were astounded

Eventually they get used to Henry making them tea, handing them drinks, serving them food (a lot of it takeout 😅)

Some study sessions end up being board game sessions, Henry’s included

Alex’s friends often tease him about how in love he is with Henry. Some fake gag when they’re being too sticky-sweet

Alex loves hosting dinners and study sessions and stuffing his friends. He knows a lot of them are struggling with scholarships and rent and jobs that barely pay the bills so he knows it helps them get their mind off a couple meals for the month. He also gets so much food that they all have leftovers to bring home and microwave for breakfast. He chalks it up not being good at estimating how much food they need, but really its his way of helping them. His friends catch on when they notice they always have their favorites ready.

This makes Henry love Alex even more

They discover Henry has a thing for when Alex uses legal jargon. They tease him about it. Henry threatens to throw them in the dungeon

His friends were once sharing horrible college dorm experiences. “Did you stay in dorms, Alex?” one of them asks even if they know the answer is now. “I, err, stayed at home” Home being the freaking WHITE HOUSE, one of them points out

His parents, June and Henry come during graduation. There was media coverage.

That’s it for today. To be honest with you I want to turn this into a fic in the POV of his classmates but I don’t have the time so let’s settle with this brain dump for now 😅

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb book #rwrb movie #rwrb alex #alex claremont diaz #alex nyu #law student alex #rwrb prince henry #prince henry of wales #prince henry #henry fox #firstprince #alex x henry

[infernalodie]

𝐅𝐞𝐳 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢’𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 || 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐳𝐜𝐨

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐'𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦“

Inspo: Rex Orange County - Pluto Projector

Pairing: Fezco x Daughter!reader x Lexi Howard

Summary: They’d always love you...

Warnings: Talk’s of verbal abuse, some fluff strewn about, but devolves into a angsty fluff ending.

Words: 4268

DNI IF YOU’RE SENSITIVE TO THE WARNINGS ABOVE!

Lexi never thought she would fall in love with Fezco. At first glance, no one would suspect them to be able to get along as much as they had when they first met. He was a drug dealer and she was a kind and smart girl. The perfect girl next door, to be exact. She never thought in a million years that not only would she get together or have a kid with him would’ve happened in her life.

But it seemed like it was a match made from heaven. They related in movies and were very supportive of one another. Lexi just felt happy and on her toes whenever Fezco was around. He was unpredictably brilliant. So, it made the idea of him falling for her be masked in a 50/50 chance. But he did. He fell for her and ended up together throughout high school.

Before anything had ever happened between them romantically, they had talked about kids. What they wanted for a family and how many kids they wanted. Their own little perfect future that they never knew would involve one another. In no way would Lexi have guessed that she would have a positive pregnancy test weeks after a one-night stand.

It scared her, truthfully. Cassie had an abortion after she told McKay and seeing her sister terrified reminded Lexi of the brutal reality that she was stuck in. Fez had simply  told her, “I won’t control your decision, but know I will be by your side and support you either way.” So, she was faced with two options. Continue with school and achieve her dreams before bringing a child into the world. Or have a child and be looked down upon by the rest of her peers in East Highland.

Now, for someone like Maddy, Lexi would take the former. But she wasn’t much like her friends or sister. She had dreams- Ones that she would like to come to fruition. And she had people behind her willing to support her, including the father of the baby growing slowly inside her stomach. But to save herself from the possible stress and foulness that East Highland offered to everyone that went, she stayed home for the remaining time before the child was born. Having her mother come by and grab her assignments and notes that the teachers wrote for her. Since she was at the top of all her classes, this leniency was expected.

So, she waited for her time at home and continued with her studying and schoolwork. Friends came by to visit and gawk over who would be the best at babysitting the baby whenever Lexi was busy. And Fez came by and Lexi had never seen him any calmer than the times he just laid beside her with his eyes focused on her baby bump. The tiniest of smiles were evident on his lips as he would often lay his head against her stomach. Listening and waiting for something to happen.

At that time, Fezco didn’t have much to offer. Ash passed away before he even got to hear the news of being an uncle and Fez stopped dealing drugs. Or at least, that’s what most people suspected. He was far more careful about it and only sold to people he knew wouldn’t snitch or bought from people that wouldn’t snitch. But what he offered was his time and company to help Lexi through the experience.

“Fez, fucking hurry, man!” Rue exclaimed, running down the hall of the hospital toward where the front desk had given them the information about Lexi’s room. Fez hadn’t done many sports in school or ever, so he was panting and beginning to believe he was going to have a heart attack before he got to hold the baby or see the love of his life.

“I’m fuckin’ trying, Rue!” He spat, jogging after the girl.

When they made it to the room, Rue practically kicked open the door and stopped at the doorway. Fez panted, coming to a slow stop beside her and stopping at the doorway. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head upon seeing Lexi holding you. A baby girl. A lively and rather quiet baby, who slept soundly in your mother’s arms.

Lexi lifted her head and Fezco swears he saw her eyes brighten upon seeing him. “Do you want to hold your baby girl?” It was a question that didn’t need to be asked because he rushed over to the side of the bed. Ecstatic with energy, but it contrasted with how soft and careful he was with taking you. He was supporting your head comfortably and he just stared down at you in astonishment.

But that was so long ago, it was often hard to remember what it was like then and leading up to the present. The three of you now living in New York with Lexi pursuing her dreams in plays whilst Fezco continued to sell drugs. And you were going to school. Outside of that, nothing much seemed to bother the small and loving family.

It stayed like that for years, even when Lexi finally started writing plays and getting herself out there. You were more interested in making music from Uncle Elliot, who always wanted to hear more that you had been making. Fezco and Lexi encouraged you to explore and experiment with sports or activities you were interested in. Just turns out music had been the thing that grabbed your attention from the ripe age of 6.

You were beaming smiles as bright as the sun. A curiosity that knew no bounds. A personality so unique and abstract for someone your age that it threw your parents off occasionally. You were intelligent and Lexi often said that you got it from your father, but you weren’t convinced most of the time- primarily because the guy could stand up and, look around, and then sit back down doing whatever he was doing. But they knew you were special in your own right and a gift to them that they never took for granted.

But sometime when you were 10, things changed. Something shifted after Fezco and Lexi had to go on a trip for her work. Sadly, you had been left with Nate Jacobs and Cassie. They hadn’t been Lexi’s first choice, but everyone else was busy and Cassie had been dying to meet you. So, they dropped you off at Nate’s mansion. Giving you longing hugs and kisses before they drove away. Leaving you with two people that Lexi and Fezco hated with their hearts.

There had practically been no communication from Nate or Cassie throughout the week that Lexi and Fezco were on their trip. It worried both of them, but they had faith that nothing was going on. But when they came back, they saw you and it felt like a void had taken their daughter’s body. There was no smile, there was no hugs, no kisses, not even a word spoken. Just your silence and your seemingly uneasy body that hurried to their car.

They couldn’t figure out what was going on and no doctor could do the same. The Doctor had told the two parents that it might be some form of trauma or you had suddenly gone mute. But from what Lexi could tell, you were still one of the few at the top of your classes. Teachers have said that you also don’t talk in class, but said your silence just adds to your focus in class, and it showed. Which angered Lexi a bit as your asshole teachers made it sound like they preferred your silence over free speech.

And whenever they reached out to Nate or Cassie, all they got was an automated message. They were left with no answers or inkling as to what happened at that time from when they left and when they arrived.

Your silence killed both of them as you never said anything to them, your aunts, or uncles. Your room was always silent and wherever you went, your closed-off self followed rapidly. But the very few times they heard you were at night. When you thought everyone was asleep and when your muffled sobs could be heard faintly.

That had been 7 years ago, and nothing has changed. You were still quiet and closed off. Every time Fez tried to talk to you, all you have him was a hum, shrug, nod, or shake of your head. And every time Lexi tried to ask how school was going or ask to hear your music, you never said anything.

Tonight though, both Lexi and Fezco were in a rush with tidying the 3 bedroom apartment. Cleaning up dishes, tables, chairs, rooms, everything. Because tonight, you were bringing over your girlfriend whom they had only gotten a warning from an hour ago in a text. So, here they were, nearly tripping over their feet with Lexi preparing a meal whilst Fezco was trying to smoke a joint while sweeping the living room.

“Fez, put that out,” Lexi said with a chuckle. “You already smell like weed as it is.”

“My nerves are all over the place, baby,” he grunted, sweeping the dust bunnies into the dustpan. “Y/n is going to give me a heart attack one of these days with how unpredictable she can be.”

He tossed the dust bunnies into the garbage before making his way to the spot beside his wife, who grinned ear to ear from his previous statement. “It sound’s like a mini Ashtray to me.” Hearing that made Fezco’s lips press into a warm smile. Taking one more hit of the blunt before the sound of the apartment door unlocking filled the air. Lexi’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she slapped Fezco’s shoulder, urging him to put out the blunt. To which he simply leaned over the sink and tossed it out the window with an amused grin. Whoever found that blunt and decided to smoke it would have a fantastic night.

Turning to you, Alice, the girl they knew very little about besides what you wrote on papers to communicate with them, smiled at them. But you still said nothing. A small smile, but nothing more than that. Lexi and Fezco didn’t let that bother them too much as Lexi walked over, giving you a hug and shaking hands with Alice.

“Alice, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Lexi smiled. “Y/n talks about you all the time.”

That was enough to provoke a reaction from you. Pinching your mother’s arm with a warm blush fanning your cheeks as you dropped your backpack and jacket onto the couch. Alice smiled at you before looking up at both of your parents. “Well, that’s something new I can tease her about. But it’s very nice to meet you two,” she stated warmly.

“Yo, do you like pasta?” Fezco asked from the kitchen in his usual slurred-out tone.

Alice let out a short laugh as she shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t mind a little pasta once in a while.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not the master chef here. So, it’ll taste good,” he paused for a moment as Lexi approached. “I would hope at least.”

Lexi gasped, slapping his shoulder as Alice laughed softly. Still, there was nothing that came from you as you silently took your girlfriend’s hand and pulled her away. There was no hiding the briefest expression of confusion but seemed to remember and understand in an instant. Which made Lexi and Fez pause for a moment.

They waited until they heard your bedroom door close before Lexi inhaled deeply. Her hands braced against the counter as she bent over. Her eyes clamped shut as Fez frowned. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Something feels different,” Lexi muttered. ”I don’t know what it is, but it feels like Alice knows more than we do.”

Fezco hummed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he leaned into the counter. “You mean with Y/n being mute?”

“That’s-!” Lexi nearly yelled, stopping herself as she stood up straight. Covering her face with her hands as she sighed heavily. “She’s not mute. I’m telling you, Fez. Something happened at my sister’s place.”

“And I’m telling you that those two are nowhere to be found,” Fezco reminded softly. “They moved without any word to anyone within our circle of family. Even if we wanted to do something about it, it’d be a manhunt before we get any answers- and what if they didn’t do anything? It’d been a waste of time and resources.”

Lexi could help the incredulous look that formed on her face as she looked at her husband. “Are you seriously defending Cassie and Nate?”

Fez sighed. “That’s not what I’m trying to say-”

“Fez, we both know Nate abused Maddy,” she hissed. “How far of a possibility would it be if he’s done it to our daughter?”

It’d been on their minds for 5 years. At first, neither of them let that chance that Cassie or Nate would have the spine to do. But as time passed on and they quickly started trying to put pieces together, Nate and Cassie seemed to be the only possibility. They had to be at the center of all the destruction they had brought the family to. And although you were impressionable at that age, they knew your personality wasn’t as changeable as you might’ve let on. So, in other words, you were unique and were very hard to think of a separate thing from your own opinion and such.

And when they tried to call or text either suspect, there was nothing. So, they had left this small peaceful family in shambles. The only able thing to do was to pick up the pieces and make some sense of the disaster those two had caused.

But in some sort of case that this could possibly be an act, they weren’t sure how they would react. But they knew you better than that. When you were just a kid, you would rave on and on about the things you did at school or were wanting to do in the future. It was just hard for them to believe that you just decided to become silent after a week. There had to be some sort of malicious reasoning behind it.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Fez sighed. “If that fucker did anything to her, I’ll see to it I put him ten feet under.”

Some time ago, if Fezco would’ve said that, Lexi might’ve protested. She wasn’t one for violence and she knew that wasn’t ever going to change. But if Nate had done anything to you, her baby girl, Cassie would’ve been in on it. And that meant Lexi would have to break her unsaid path and hurt her sister. “The same will go for my sister,” Lexi nearly growled. “Bitch would fucking deserve the worst type of torture.”

Fezco couldn’t help the small grin that formed on his lips just as Alice entered the kitchen with a soft smile. “So, how are we looking on the food?” She inquired just as you entered the room in tow.

“It’s all done,” Lexi said. “Y/n, can you set up the table, sweetheart?”

The painful silence was from you glancing at Alice before moving to grab the utensils and napkins, and preparing the table. Alice seemed to sense the tension, forcing a smile and going to help you. Both parents stood in the kitchen, still uncomfortable from the abnormal silence you had continued to give them. Some part of them hoped that bringing your girlfriend here would finally allow you to shed some layer of your protectiveness, but they were sadly mistaken.

After an awkward conversation between Lexi and Alice, the food was prepared and dished out. The four sitting at the table began to eat. Lexi and Fez quickly found out that you and Alice met in band class the year they moved to New York. Sharing many of the same classes together and being in the same year, you guys saw one another frequently. Turns out, Alice had asked you out months ago, but the apparent shock on Lexi’s expression showed that should’ve been a fact kept hidden.

But besides that, the dinner was rather great. Alice seemed to be a beaming of light in your life judging by the faint smiles that tried to force themselves on your lips. Although you didn’t speak, your parents could see that you and Alice had some way of communication. Alice seemed to understand every little look you gave her and everything less.

And slowly, the night wounded with you and Alice falling to your bedroom. The kitchen and living room had grown quiet with Fez and Lexi cleaning. The clattering of wet dishes being washed and placed on the dry rack was the only sound heard. Both were clearly exhausted from the rather stressful evening Alice’s sudden appearance had caused the pair.

Except, when Lexi was about to speak, her words were lost when they heard the faintest wisp of a voice accompanied by the keys of a piano. Your piano was one of the sources, but the voice drew both of their attention. “I don’t want it. And I don’t want to want you.”

The progression of the keys caused Lexi to softly drop the dirty dishes and grab the dry rag from the sink and quietly step in the direction of your room. Fez stared at his wife in confusion before slowly following. “But in my dreams I seem to be more honest,” the voice rang out. Standing just outside your bedroom, Lexi and Fez listened carefully. Hearing the shifting and creak of your bed as the keys carefully continued to play. “And I must admit, you’ve been in quite a few.” Both Fez and Lexi stood silently as the final key played loudly and slowly droned on until you had lifted your finger.

“Did you write that for me?” Alice’s inquiring voice questioned, a hint of a bashful smile in her words.

There was a steady pause before they heard it. Your voice. “Everything that I’ve written has been about you.”

The shock written on both Lexi’s and Fez’s faces was probably the same for Alice. Likely not for the same reasons, but nonetheless; shock. They heard muffled giggles fill the air before they both silently walked back to the kitchen. The two of them continued their tasks before the creaking of your bedroom door opened. A pair of footsteps came down the hall before both you and Alice stood. Alice wore a bright smile as she nodded to Fezco, who nodded as well. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Howard. The spaghetti was amazing.”

Although Lexi was in some sort of pain and shock, she managed a smile for the girl. “No problem, and I’m glad you liked it. Y/n didn’t give us much to go off of from her texts.”

Soon enough, Alice bid farewell with you seeing her out. Sharing one short kiss and hushed “goodbye” before you were making your way past the kitchen. A light hop in your step and uncontrollable smile dancing on your face. Butterflies tickled the inside of your chest as you were barely holding on from not texting Alice already.

“Y/n, come here.” Your father’s words made you stop, frowning as you back peddled and looked at the man. He was leaning against the edge of the counter, same with your mother who wore a distressed expression. “We’d like for you to sit down and talk to us.” The statement nearly made you laugh in amusement, shaking your head, trying to hold onto the happiness you felt for tonight.

“Y/n, sit down.” The finality in Fez’s tone shocked Lexi as much as it did you. Staring at your father for a moment, lips parting to protest, almost slipping before you grumbled and sat at the table. Fingers toying with one of the forgotten table clothes that had spilled spaghetti sauce clinging to the edge. But before you had a chance to realize it, it was snatched from your hands with your gaze snapping up to your father’s hard gaze as he pointed at you sternly. “Listen and look at your mother.”

Pushing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, head slightly bowed, your eyes snapped to your mother, who stood with a distraught and rather saddened look in her eyes. You hated seeing her like this. Truly, you wished to never be the reason for her being so stressed, but it wasn’t like you wanted her to feel like this intentionally. None of this was intentional and you doubted they would ever understand why you had turned out the way you did.

“Baby, you have to tell us what it is we did wrong.” Lexi walked towards you, taking your hands in hers and crouching in front of you. Tears threatened to spill as she closed them, inhaling deeply and shaking your hands softly. “I know we haven’t been great for you, but we just need to understand what it is we did wrong for you not to speak to us. We just want you to talk to us, baby.”

You looked between both parents like you were in some sort of dream. What they did wrong? It was hard for your mind to wrap around considering there was nothing they did wrong. None of this had been their fault and you never wanted them to make them feel like it was. They'd been nothing less than nurturing, loving, kind, understanding, sweet, and so much more that wouldn’t do them justice.

“Y/n, we heard you speak with Alice in your room,” Fez spoke up, causing your chest to tighten up as your own eyes began to sparkle with tears. They heard? They heard you speak?

“What?” Your quiet voice asked mused, staring at your father as if he was a ghost from limbo. His eyes widened from your small and quiet inquiry. But before you could even realize your mishap, Lexi’s hands were tightening around your hands. It was firm, yet gentle.

“Why haven’t you spoken to us, sweetheart?” Lexi asked softly, tears having finally broken her resistance and slid down her flushed cheeks. Overwhelmed with so many emotions from hearing your voice.

“I- I can’t-” You stumbled over your own words, chest beginning to tighten as you looked at both parents rapidly. Your nose began to sting as a tear slid down your cheeks. “I can’t t-talk anymore. Aunt Cassie said you’d hate me if I ever spoke again.”

Your words knocked the wind out of Lexi and Fezco as they looked at one another. Finally, the source of their own torture came to light and it came in the form of a prissy bitch that had some serious anger issues. Much like her husband.

“What did you say?” Lexi asked, voice dangerously soft, which only frightened you more. “What did Cassie say to you?”

Each word spilling from your mother's lips and your very own was causing your mind to become jumbled. A muddied mess that was trying to catch up to the fact that you fucked up, terribly. “Let me go. Mom, please, let me go.” Trying to pull free, you only felt Lexi pull you closer with her soft assurance whispered into the air. But the more she kept you there, the more you began to panic. “I don’t want you to hate me. Mom, please!”

“Y/n! Y/n, baby. It’s okay - you’re okay!” Lexi pulled your flailing body into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried and sobbed in her arms. Soon relenting, arms curling around her tightly as she sat cross-legged on the floor with your in lap. Hands clinging onto her shirt tightly as Lexi stroked your head. Glossy eyes flickering to your father, who was more livid than anything else.

You wept, crying, “I don’t want you guys to hate me. Please, don’t hate me.” It broke their hearts knowing that this was just as much torture as it was for them. Not having known your very own battles you faced on your own because of Cassie’s torment.

That week was still burned into your mind. The constant screaming you were submitted to by your aunt, who didn’t care when you sobbed on her couch. Saying cruel things that were transformed into lies that your young mind believed and stuck with you into your teen years. She said you were an infection–A cancer that would destroy your family from the inside and out. In some way, she was correct. But that was because your silence had left your parents confused and broken. Only ever felt safe with Alice or anyone at school. Your home wasn’t home. It was a test to see if a slip-up would cause your family to fall apart with your parents hating you.

“Y/n.” Lexi softly held your face in her palms, making you look up at her. Your nose was snotty, your face splashed with tears, and rough coughs falling from your lips as you cried in her hold. The sight alone made Lexi’s chin quiver as she smiled sadly. “I, nor your father, would ever hate you, baby. We love you. We’ve always loved you. You are our daughter and nothing would change how we feel.”

You nodded frantically, wrapping your arms around her once more as you wept into her shoulder. “Please don’t ever hate me.”

#fezco #fezco euphoria #fezco x lexi howard #fezco x daughter!reader #fezco x reader #lexi howard fanfiction #fezco imagine #fezco fanfiction #lexi howard imagine #lexi howard euphoria #lexi howard x reader #lexi howard x daughter!reader #lexi howard #x daughter reader #x daughter!reader #euphoria #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria fanfic #euphoria imagine #lexi howard angst #fezco angst #maude apatow #angus cloud

[gravitywonagain]

Sympathy for the Devil; part 2

discord got me to finally write a connecting scene, so here! have some more of this nonsense au now based only vaguely on the blacklist! [part 1]

~~

“Alright. What do we know about him?”

Luo Qingyang stands at the back of the small conference room facing the large projector screen on the opposite wall. Her uniform jacket is draped over the back of the chair in front of her, and her fingers curl and uncurl of their own volition, kneading the dark blue fabric into the cushion beneath it. This is not what she expected her morning to look like. 

Her team -- her and Lan Wangji’s team, now -- is gathered at the table in front of her. 

Nie Zonghui has several stacks of photocopied notes spilling out of an open manilla folder, two highlighters, four sizes of sticky notes, and a legal pad in front of him. He has blue ink on his neck where the tip of the pen resting behind his ear rubs whenever he turns his head to the left. Frustration rolls off of him in waves. 

Lan Jingyi is typing rapidly on his CBC-issued laptop which is angled toward Luo Qingyang just enough that she can see he has six different windows open and is in desperate need of at least two external monitors. The overworked fan is almost louder than his heavy-handed, caffeine-fuelled typing. He’s twisting back and forth in the swivel chair, dragging his toes across the carpet, but swivels to a stop at her question. 

Qin Su stands off to Luo Qingyang’s right, placing photos -- mostly grainy or blurred -- in an ever expanding evidence map. At the top, with a dozen or so threads leading away from its pin, is a crisp, clean, photo of a man wearing an approximation of the CBC Academy uniform, smiling brilliantly at the camera. Beneath him, the title card reads: Yiling Laozu, Wei Wuxian. 

“Yiling Laozu?” asks Lan Jingyi, one foot tapping out a vague rhythm against the leg of the conference table. 

Luo Qingyang restrains her eyeroll, only because she can see that at least four of the open windows on his laptop are chasing down information regarding Yiling Laozu’s associates, rather than the demonic kingpin himself. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Break it down for me.” 

“Well,” says Qin Su, moving from the board to the open folio near her, “he’s a bit of a recluse, so we don’t actually know a lot.”

Her folio is much better organized than Nie Zonghui’s. 

“Start with the basics.”

Qin Su nods, “Right. Yiling Laozu. Wanted for-- basically every kind of spiritual crime known to the CBC. He invented the Ghost Path in his late teens or early twenties, we think. It’s unclear, what with all of the rumor and suspicion and superstition around even saying his name--”

“Yeah, he really looks like a boogeyman…” says Nie Zonghui. He’s stressed. They should never have sent him into the room with Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Jingyi says, “Hot boogeyman. If you ask me--”

Luo Qingyang clears her throat pointedly. “Nobody did. Moving on?”

“Yup!” 

Qin Su points to Lan Jingyi who taps a few keys on his -- very abused -- keyboard and takes over the projector. He throws several pages up on the wall, photos with short but damning rap sheets. 

“Known associates include Gui Jiangjun and Mo Daifu,” she says, indicating the sheets labeled Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing respectively. 

She points to Lan Jingyi again and a very low-light black and white shot comes up center-screen. It shows a man who could potentially be Wei Wuxian entering a building that is definitely Two Fans. The brilliant green of the sign is lost, but it is plenty readable. “He has been seen entering the Headshaker’s club on several occasions, but any actual association remains speculative at best.” 

Nie Zonghui shrugs in the corner of Luo Qingyang’s eye. “He might just have good taste in venues.” 

All three other agents in the room turn to look at him, brows quirked or furrowed or raised to different degrees. 

Nie Zonghui shrugs again, “What? It’s a nice club.”

--

Wei Wuxian rubs at the zip tie dent around the outside of his wrists. He plays it up a little, wincing and groaning just enough to be heard. 

Still, Lan Wangji doesn’t look at him. 

It’s fine. 

He follows the CBC Director and field agents out of the interrogation room and down a long, boring hallway. Lan Qiren and the other cultivator break off through one of the nondescript doors -- room 129-9, Wei Wuxian notes out of habit -- and then it’s just Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian following Lan Wangji. Down a long, boring hallway. 

It feels like old times. Especially as Wei Wuxian finds his eyes… wandering. 

The Bureau slacks look unfairly good on Lan Wangji, blue wool hugging tight to the curves of his legs and ass in a way no law enforcement uniform should ever be allowed to do. It’s rude. He must get them tailored. 

Lan Wangji leads him through another nondescript door -- room 157-3 -- which opens up into a large bullpen. Heads swivel in their direction, eyes snagging on Wei Wuxian and his casual state of dress. Everybody else in here is wearing uniforms in one state of undress or another, while Wei Wuxian is wearing ripped black jeans and a heather red v-neck. Hopefully he’ll get his jacket back soon. He spent a good amount of time stitching talismans into it; he’d like not to have wasted the effort. 

Eyes un-snag; heads swivel back toward screens. Wei Wuxian remembers the strength of Lan Wangji’s glare and he imagines it’s only become more powerful with age and seniority. He can practically feel the shiver up his own spine. 

Or maybe that is a shiver up his spine. 

It’s strangely nostalgic, being here, even though Wei Wuxian is fairly certain he has never been in this particular room before. But that doesn’t really matter. The layout is the same, the furniture is the same, even the smell is the same. The computers have been updated, at least, but not within this decade. 

Lan Wangji’s office is nice. Clean and minimalist, as expected. Stark white walls, a meticulously curated bookcase, and a matching walnut and glass-top desk. No pictures, no wall art, not even a particularly fancy name plate. The closest thing to a personal touch anywhere in the room is the tea set Lan Wangji’s mother made for him before she died. Wei Wuxian’s fingertips still remember the soft, inexpert curves of the cups. 

The door clicks closed behind him and the silence that settles is almost crushing. 

Tension pulls the lines of Lan Wangji’s shoulder blades toward the middle of his back, which is still turned to Wei Wuxian. His hands slowly curl into fists by his side. 

A familiar ache twists in Wei Wuxian’s gut -- has been twisting in his gut for almost an hour now. The ache for Lan Wangji’s eyes to be on him. The ache for his attention, for his reaction. Anything, really. Since the day he met Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian has always just wanted to break through that barrier Lan Wangji puts around himself, and to really touch him. 

Metaphorically. 

And literally, but that’s something else. 

Probably. 

Now, Lan Wangji’s long braid shifts across the navy fabric of his uniform coat as he turns his head to the side, the shining plait slipping like snake scales through water. Wei Wuxian holds his breath, waiting for the bite. He watches the tension held in Lan Wangji’s jaw forcibly release, and then, finally:

“Wei Ying.”

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #luo qingyang #lan jingyi #nie zonghui #qin su #mdzs #the untamed #cql #fanfiction #the blacklist au #i still probably won't finish this #but it's very fun to play with #it is entirely crack #so have fun with it! #my writing #also for anyone who really likes the actual show this was inspired by #sorry #we're deviating pretty heavily away from that concept and rolling with something that's more loosely inspired

[ask-serendipity-sky]

This is...Like Crazy. Again.

(Please read the 2 attached posts, they will help.)

A while back ago, when Like Crazy was stuck on my mind 24/7, I talked about how I bought a galaxy projector and my first thought when I turned it on was:

"This is how songs get made."

I decided to interpret Like Crazy this way. Jimin got inspired by the lights and came up with the lyrics for the song. Those were my thoughts.

Jimin is brilliant. He really is. He shares all these things with us and it's all right there.

And today someone posted this bit of Jimin's notes:

I'll stay just drunk tonight

Oh baby, don't you cry

Just go turn off the light

You and me

He's talking to someone.

I view this as:

When you turn off the light and get into your bed and other person in your bed is waiting for you. You get close to them and they fully embrace you. In the darkness of it all, it's you and that person.

"The moon embraces you."

So now I piece all these things together. The lyrics in Korean translated to English (because I don't know Korean), Jimin's notes, and my thoughts when I was under the galaxy lights...

And now I think that maybe I wasn't entirely off.

There are a lot of things that make you feel Like Crazy.

#jikook #kookmin #like crazy #lost in the lights

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond - Episode of Journey's beginning 07

The following is a work of fan fiction by Joshua D. Tarwater and is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.* *SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS retains full rights over the Sonic the Hedgehog™ intellectual property and can terminate or take control of this work at any time.

~EPISODE OF JOURNEY’S BEGINNING 07~

★~The Empire lives! May it be forever!

This nameless island had nothing to do with the mission, yet that fool Projector insisted on investigating due to his belief that a Machine God is here. Regardless, the only real value of this backwater island lies in the Ring Machines and these fast-growing plants. If we can harvest the Ring Machines and take them back to the Empire, then we can save it and this island can burn.

~Page General Pinn Bowlings

Between Sky Ring and forested island Above cloud of Stone Ghosts Arms and Eyes Reaching with great fingerlike tree Met with sword and flame Armed Helms outnumbered Not out matched Thing of metal, canvas, balloon, and propeller A ship drifting in the sky as a cradle For ancient machine and man both.

“Blast!” Page General of the Empire, Pinn Bowlings swore as he collapsed into a floating chair like a smile cut from a white-skinned watermelon. As he sat, the metal cuffs of his coat and boots snapped together and two circles became one. “It’s no good. I can control the flames well enough thanks to the Knetic Shackles, but supporting anything more than these daft drones…”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of General,” a man’s voice spoke out of empty air. Bowlings did not bother seeking a source, instead rubbing his forearm, and wrinkling the sleeve of his gray military coat as the voice continued. “You were selected for this mission as there should have been no reason to use your powers. That we have found resistance is unexpected.”

“The boy?” Bowlings snorted out the question and ruffled his bushy mustache. “We shouldn’t have even deployed if not for your certainty of a Machine God being here. We’d have never encountered that boy otherwise. Though now that we have…”

“You’re desire to incinerate him may prove difficult with him now resting at the bottom of the ocean.”

“What?” the lone word fell venomously from Bowlings lips.

“While you were resting from your last attempt to support a multicore Projection, there was a fair amount of commotion along the shoreline. When I investigated, I found the boy, and the girl with him, attempting to leave by aircraft.”

“Aircraft?”

“That is correct. Though I took the initiative and had a Projection damage the vessel so that it could no longer sustain flight. The last I saw of them they were plummeting into the ocean.”

His grip tightening on his forearm as he continued to rub it, Bowlings looked down a moment. A heavy sigh escaped his lungs as the short brim of his tall military cap hid his green eyes. Finally, he broke his silence, with surprising calm. “You suspect the boy survived.”

“I have no doubt about it at all.”

“The Rings?”

“You may not be able to see them General, but unless we can create a safe spot that they recognize and finish him off there, it is unlikely he can be so easily rid of.”

“Projector… no, Brilliant is your name, isn’t it?”

“And a rare occasion to hear you use it General,” Brilliant the Projector projected his voice from some location unknown to where Bowlings sat on an airship above Amnesia Island.

“Can we be assured that he’ll return here?”

“Considering the lack of dangers present on this island, it seems unlikely the Rings would ever send him elsewhere. But I’ve already set Armed Helms out on reconnaissance. He could surely show up anywhere still. However, the aircraft they were using was powered by a Ring Machine.”

Looking up and across the deck of the ship, a vessel that somehow merged steel balloon with galleon and several helicopters, Bowlings eyed what his eyes sought. Floating in a hollowed-out section of the deck, a mass of black stone blocks floated. The blocks did not maintain a simple structure, instead constantly shifting as blue glowing lines formed geometric and circuit like patterns across their surface. Unlike the one that fit within the engine compartment of the bi-wing motorcycle that Rosy and Tempest made use of, this one was comparable to a large house in size. Just barely small enough to fit within the confines of the airship.

“You think they’ll seek out another one to repair their aircraft then?”

“I can’t predict as much, but my continued investigation of the island has revealed that there are many such machines beneath the island. The nature of the currents here could have likely dragged your quarry into the deep labyrinths of the island. As we too need to confirm the potential limits of the supply of Ring Machines on this island…”

“I get it,” Bowlings snorted as he rose from his seat and resembled a bowling pin in shape with his cap on his head. One that stretched its legs to cross the deck. “Then you’re aiming to set up a confrontation beneath the island?”

“If that is to your favor General,” Brilliant confirmed Bowlings’ suspicions.

Leaning against the railing at the center of the deck, Bowlings looked up at the Ring Machine and a malicious tooth bearing grin pushed his mustache up. “It is to my favor, Projector. If we can make the safe spot that you’re talking about down there, we can force him into it and then bring the whole island down in flames destroying it and him with it. Then we can excavate his charred bones with the rest of the Ring Machines, leaving only these blasted statues to serve as unwanted nuisances.

“And what about this thing?” Bowlings at last made the object he stared at the topic of conversation. “We’ve been drifting around up here with this thing for ages. Have you figured out how to extract it to the Spiral Archive yet?”

“The mathematical calculations to move it at all are staggering General. It will be easier to retrieve a smaller device and transport it first to build a matrix for the transportation of future such devices.”

“Or we kill two birds with one stone by taking whatever Ring Machine the boy gets his hands on next,” Bowlings sneered delightedly. “You’ve really been considering my retirement haven’t you. I should buy you a drink when we finish.”

“I appreciate the gesture General, but it is very unlikely that I could take you up on your offer.”

“Hmph,” Bowlings snorted again. “I guess as long as a Projector is alive you don’t get time for yourself. To think I once felt bad for Knetics like myself.”

“Will you feel sorry for the boy?” Brilliant asked in the same unchanging tone he had used for the whole conversation. That of a consummate professional who had no need for real emotions, even as he played with Bowlings’.

“I only feel sorry that I’ll only finish him off once,” Bowlings laughed vigorously.

“It’s time we burn out the root of this island and finish this mission. We may even find your blasted Machine God. Prepare as many Projections as I can handle. It’s time to hunt, Projector.”

“Of course, General,” Brilliant replied calmly as the toothy grin Bowlings took on a near demonic air. ★

EPISODE OF JOURNEY’S BEGINNING 07 - END

-----

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The Sonic Ring Bond alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and IP research which can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

The Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond story are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein, regardless of creator, context, use/ function, intent, and time of creation, considered for all legal purposes without contest, compensation, employment, or offer of employment, liability, etcetera, the property of the Sonic The Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS regardless of having read or possessing awareness of this disclaimer.

Sonic The Hedgehog Copyright© 1990-2022 SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic ring bond #sonic fan fiction #sonic ocs #page general pinn bowlings #brilliant the projector

[siremasterlawrence]

Real 3-D

Real enhanced 3-d dimensional projects are some of the craziest things I have ever seen in my life as I walk in to the room with the printer and projector in one.

It arrives to my apartment with a hard thud in the background as I lift it up and carry it inside the place kicking the door in as I drop it to the floor.

I pick up my box cutter from my storage unit digging into the top of the box I carefully cut the box open and remove the contents which include this.

Reaching in I lift the box on to the wooden desk left specifically for it as I clean it up then plug it in as I turn the device on with electrical output.

I snap my finger fast in mid air as the sound effect clicks as the device turns on as the projector shoots an image of this animated 3-d imagery.

I begin to type in a new code producing this beautiful image made to imitate one of that Tony Stark I flick the image making sure it I not a shocker.

Tapping my finger onto my watch the screen blows up in a while with the colorful beauty projection of this super gorgeous image of a fine man.

The pointer remove device presses play on a device roaring load in a colorful sea of ole blue and the circumference of the area and all things are now bold.

The printer projector takes action beginning to build in his room creating a new man in my life and turning him in to a real man for the first time ever.

In awe of my astonishing play on how things work the machine prints a picture of him in a painting like quality if I say so myself the work is brilliant.

Followed by a birth certificate in white paper branded with gold letters I fill out the last few parts I am his only creator and his name as well.

His name is Lorenzo a creation of my own genius the one who made him by pure accident but brought him to life as he should be.

The ink shape shifting to print in gold the deed is done a shine of ring is added my own take obviously because governments are shit.

The projector gets to action with laser focus he brings to print the final touches pounding away the image now on to a physical form instead of paper.

The wonder now stands a few feet above me he land onto the ground from flight he

is a magnificent to view from h point of view the only one that matters.

“This will be the most amazing experience ever.”

“The schematics are active”

“Such beautiful Kaleidoscope of colors”

“The Blue prints are obvious”

“The skeleton is built”

“The meat is being formulated “

“Such a Godly sight”

“Radiating everywhere “

“My dear”

“Oh My Stars”

“You are heaven”

“Who are you ?”

“Right! I am your creator”

“Wait! How? What?”

“Relax…you feel good”

“Sorry! I am confused “

“It’s my fault the human filter is not ready yet”

“I can rationalize my behavior now typical human one sorry!”

“Thank you Daddy!”

“Supremely perfect “

The end

#callum kerr #Fantasy To Life #downloading #android. #uploading #user interface #laptop #cellphones

[identitty-dickruption]

australians you better be watching nemesis on the abc. episode two just dropped and it is so fucking wild. peter dutton and his friends bought a projector to help them plot for party leadership. and that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. it’s fucking brilliant

(Nemesis is a three part docuseries about the power struggles in the coalition over the past decade. it rules)

#hyped for next week’s ep!! #auspol

[boroughshq]

Welcome to the community bulletin board! Here are some events happening around the Boroughs this month:

February 9-11: Mardi Gras Bar Crawl, Boroughs-Wide (Bronx finish)

February 13: Galentine's Special at Songbirds and Sangrias, Staten Island

February 14: Rom-Com Marathon at Technicolor Theater, Queens

February 14: Anti-Valentine's Day Showcase at Haze Gallery, Brooklyn

February 17: Brazilian Carnival Festival at Queens Night Market, Queens

February 29: Leap Day Star Party in Central Park, Manhattan

Continue reading below to find descriptive blurbs of each event. As a reminder, community events are optional events for members to use during their threads throughout the month of February.

February 9-11: Mardi Gras Bar Crawl, Boroughs-Wide (Bronx finish)

It's Mardi Gras weekend! Take a journey through the bars of the Boroughs in a Mardi Gras themed bar crawl! Order the specialty cocktails comprised of New Orleans inspired drinks at each establishment and get a set of beads to boot! Drinkers with the most beads at the crawl's final destination, Cowbells, win a star-studded, celebratory Mardi Gras mask.

February 13: Galantine's Special at Songbirds and Sangrias, Staten Island

It's ladies night at Songbirds and Sangrias! If it's not a female-led song, it's not allowed to be sung! The house sangria for the occasion is half off in honor of Galentine's Day.

February 14: Rom-Com Marathon at Technicolor Theater, Queens // Anti-Valentine's Day Showcase at Haze Gallery, Brooklyn.

Romance lovers are welcome to bring blankets and lawn chairs to enjoy watching an assortment of classic romantic comedies on Technicolor Theater's outdoor movie projector all night starting at 5pm. Meanwhile, the haters can purchase tickets to a special one-night-only Anti-Valentine's Day Showcase of exemplary fine art at the Haze Gallery.

February 17: Brazilian Carnival Festival at Queens Night Market, Queens

Experience a taste of the Caribbean at the Queens Night Market as it transforms into a brilliant display of Brazilian heritage in honor of Carnival. Food, drinks, merch, dance, and more!

February 29: Leap Day Star Party in Central Park, Manhattan

What better way is there to celebrate the year's extra day than with a star party? A local astronomy club, The New York Galaxy Patrol, has come together in a darker section of Central Park to set up their collective telescopes for an observation party, and all members of the public are allowed to join in! Sure, the city isn't the best place for star gazing, and there's nothing rare or exceptional expected to be visible on the 29th, but a clear night is projected on a leap day, and that's enough cause for celebration!

Admin Note: The above events are all optional events that members are free to use as the setting for threads throughout the month of February. Though each event comes with brief descriptions, writers are free to manipulate and take liberties with them however they like for their threads. Additionally, writers are not restricted to only writing threads on the dates of the events listed; you are free to create threads around these events and post them whenever you like during the month of February.

#boroughs.community #boroughs.event

[fazedlight]

23 and 24 in fic in review meme

23. Share the final version of a sentence or paragraph you struggled with. What about it was challenging? Are you happy with how it turned out?

There's a scene in Even Though You're Kryptonian, where Lex aims the phantom zone projector at Lena, and Kara jumps in front of her. Lena briefly thinks Lex missed, until she realizes otherwise:

But Kara glanced down at her own hip, and Lena’s eyes followed, landing on the blue supersuit giving way to a cascade of colors as it rapidly began to spread across Kara’s body. No, Lena thought, no no no, Kara- Lena glanced back up to Kara’s face, sorrowful blue eyes meeting her own, Kara’s brows furrowed slightly in some mixture of trepidation and acceptance. “Lena,” she whispered, as the fractured light spread rapidly across her body, crawling up her chest and along her arms. “Kara, don’t go-” Kara smiled softly, the expression not quite reaching her melancholic eyes, as the light enveloping her reached her neck and her face, becoming nothing but a burning, bright as it enveloped her in her entirety - the wide flame suddenly collapsing into a small sphere as it hovered. A momentary, brilliant spark that vibrated quickly, before snapping out of existence. And Kara was gone.

I really wanted that scene to land - it's a chapter-ender that sets up the remainder of the fic, and it's supposed to be especially wrenching because... Kara and Lena are still in full Rift Mode in the fic. I originally had it with more dialogue, but realized that didn't feel right (vibe or pace). I think it came out doing what I intended that scene to do.

24. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

Alura.

In early outlines of Darkness in All Things, I didn't know what I was going to do with her. She couldn't be let off easily - she had nearly destroyed the human species. But I didn't want to make her a simple evil villain. For a long time, I thought I was going to kill her, but I didn't want to give Kara yet another trauma on top of a pile of traumas.

I think I found the balance (at least for me, if not the reader) allowing her to be complex and yet not simply absolved. After all, the story is about the darkness in all things, and how we wrestle with it. (Though not everything in my head on the topic would be obvious to the reader, I think, but that's okay.)

Thanks for asking! ❤️❤️

ask meme

#sssammich #asks #ask meme

[lily-janus]

Brothers, am I right?

Summary: a classic fight between a hero and a villain takes a rather... interesting turn.

Pairings: platonic Loceit, platonic Analogical

Warnings: guns, weapons, death mentions, violence (not very destcrictive), rivalry, blood mention.

Word count: 3,185

For day 2 of @loceitweek Masks/Chalk.

This is a fun superhero AU I felt like writing^^ hope you enjoy!

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

Logan has fought many villains ever since he decided to use his powers for the greater good, in order to honor the memory of his late father.

But Logan won't be exaggerating when he said that Deceit was the worse one by far.

It's not that he was more powerful or smarter than his past enemies. No, he met Deceit at his best for the most part in those regards. What made him the worse villain Logan ever fought was simple, he could figuratively get under Logan's skin with nothing more than a single sentence.

It drove Logan crazy! They don't even know anything about each other's true identity and personal lives! And yet, it always seems as though Deceit can read him like Logan would easily read a book.

But, this time, Logan was determined not to let his sneaky way with words distract him. This time, Logan can't afford the mess up.

Because Deceit has decided to mess with forces he doesn't seem to understand, and Logan was the only one who can stop him.

It all started when he got an emergency signal from his - what would movies like to call - 'man in the chair', his scientist friend, Virgil.

He always helped Logan with either, figuring out his rival's next moves, making him useful gadgets, or simply just being a good friend and company to be around.

Logan always had a great appreciation for his intelligence and the brilliant way he tackled problems which allowed him to create some of the most unique weapons Logan has ever seen.

…just don't tell him any of that, every time Logan does it makes him uncomfortable even though these were merely facts.

Logan tasked Virgil with figuring out Deceit's next move, hoping he could finally be a few steps ahead of the sneaky villain.

So, when he got the emergency signal from him, he wasted no time and rushed towards their secret base fo find out what Virgil discovered.

"I received your signal, what is he planning to do?" Logan asked as soon as he stepped out of the elevator and caught sight of his friend.

Virgil was pacing and fidgeting with his lab coat, all signs of his clear distress, it must be bad then.

Upon hearing Logan's voice, Virgil froze in place and turned to look at him, biting his bottom lip idly. "It's… it's bad Logan, really really bad. I… I don't think anyone even tried something like that before… there's no telling what-"

"Virgil." Logan cut him off gently when he noticed Virgil started mattering to himself and spiraling deeper into his panic. "Slow down and tell me what you learned."

Virgil nodded, taking a deep breath, "somehow… Deceit found a way to take away powers… you know, turn them off."

Logan took his time to process that, it was the last thing he'd expected to hear from Virgil… and he wasn't sure how to respond.

"...how exactly is he planning to do that?" Logan settled on at the end.

Virgil went to his computer and typed a bit before projecting an image through the projector.

It looked like plans for some sort of weapon. "A machine that turns off powers?" Logan asked, just to be sure.

Virgil nodded, "it seems to be some kind of laser ray that alters the neurons in your body." He explained.

"Do we know what will happen for someone with powers if those would get taken away like that?" Logan asked next, as he examined closely the plans Virgil was projecting onto the wall.

"Yes… in theory at least. As I said, it's never been so much as experimented, all we have are scientific assumptions." Virgil said, starting to pace again to burn some of his nervous energy. "People with powers, like you, Logan. Their bodies work differently than those without. Studies show that the very basics of functions in your bodies rely on the powers you were born with." He stopped for a bit, letting that sink in a little.

"So taking the powers away, or turning them off…" Logan pieced it together out loud

"Could very much have the same effect as losing blood, or a heart… it could mean death, Logan." Virgil finished for him, and the gravity of the situation was finally fully realized for Logan.

Logan swallowed, "I have to stop him, do we know if he completed the weapon yet?"

Virgil shook his head with a grimace, "we don't know for sure where he is in the process of making this weapon, but I did manage to find out where he's building it. You're gonna have to sneak in there and destroy it before he gets a chance to use it." He explained.

Logan nodded, he was fairly certain that Deceit didn't know… or didn't care about what kind of damage his machine can cause, and it was up to Logan alone to make sure it doesn't get used. He can do this… he has to.

"Okay, send me the coordinates and I'll be on my way-" he started saying, but Virgil cut him off with a light chuckle.

"Hold your horses there, mister Save-The-Day, you're not seriously about to go to the snake's lair unarmed, are you?" Virgil said with slight amusement.

Logan blushed in embarrassment, how could he forget something as basic as taking a weapon to a fight?

"...right, of course, that was… what I was about to say as well." Logan said in hopes of keeping his compuser.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "sure you did, Specs. Anyway, I prepared your usual weapon belt," Virgil walked to a table a few feet away from them with various devices and lifted a belt with Logan's most preferable choice of weapons and handed it to him. "And take this, my newest invention, it should paralyze anyone within 10 feet of the user for about 30 minutes. It should give you enough time to destroy the machine if you were to get caught."

Virgil threw him what looked like a clicker of some kind, he raised an eyebrow at Virgil, "should? Are you using me as your figurative lab rat again?"

Virgil shrugged, "how else am I going to test my newest weapons? You don't want me using innocent people and get arrested, do you?"

Logan knew by now that Virgil was just being sarcastic, but the mental image still bothered him a little. "Fair point, thank you, Virgil, I couldn't ask for a better friend." Logan offered him a slight smile.

Virgil fidgeted in place uncomfortably, blushing, "...just don't die, okay?"

"I don't think I would be given much choice in the matter-"

"Logan!" Virgil protested.

"Okay, sorry, I won't die today, I promise to do everything in my power to prevent that." Logan relented and he could see the relief in Virgil as his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

"Good… good luck out there… and punch that snake in the face for me!" Virgil called after him as he left.

…

He arrived at the location Virgil sent him and saw an abandoned warehouse.

Cautiously, he moved inside, being wary of traps or cameras Deceit might have installed.

His powers allowed him to hear others thoughts as well as moving things with his mind and turning invisible, which was what he did now in case someone was watching the place.

There was nothing in the first floor, as far as Logan could tell, so he went up the stairs to the next. They were a bit squeaky, though, and Logan looked around frantically, hoping no one noticed.

When nothing happened, he continued on his way.

Now this floor looked more like Logan expected, different tools and machinery scattered about on tables, and when he reached the center, there was a large object covered in a white sheet.

Watching his steps and looking around carefully, Logan walked closer to what seemed to be the machine Virgil was telling him about.

Something felt off, though, it was too easy and obvious, it felt more like…

He stepped back at just the right moment before a net shot from the ground where he'd been standing and hang in the air.

A trap.

"Aww, you're no fun, I almost had you." He heard a familiar, sleek voice and turned around to find Deceit smirking at him.

He was wearing his usual yellow, snake skin, suit, with his mask that covered his entire face and only left the mouth, nose and eyes exposed. Half of the mask had scales in it, while the other was plain yellow.

"Deceit, this time you went too far." Logan hissed.

Deceit clicked his tongue, shaking his head, "oh Logic, Logic, Logic. That is what you always say. You really need to learn what fun means." He chuckled, walking slowly closer to Logan.

"I know what fun means, Deceit, it does not include hurting and killing people." Logan said angrily in response, "this machine that you're building can do irreversible damadge! Did you think about that? Or do you not really care?"

Deceit shrugged, "people die all the time anyway, so why aren't I allowed to have some fun out of it huh? Tell me." He smiled a sinister smile.

Logan growled in frustration, "you're not listening!"

"Well you're not captivating your audience." He rolled his eyes, "really, Teach, it's like you're not even trying to sound convincing."

Logan shook his, trying to get Deceit out of his head, trying to focus on his mission. Get in, destroy the machine, get out.

He turned invisible again and dashed towards the machine, pulling out his laser gun from his belt and preparing to shoot it at the device under the sheet.

But, as his first shot hit it… it vanished into smoke, together with the tables with tools.

An illusion.

But, by the time he turned around to face Deceit again, it was too late. Deceit had already pulled out his own gun and was pointing it directly at him.

"Surely you don't think I'm stupid enough to leave my toys laying around where every hero can walts in and ruin them?" Deceit said, amused.

Logan wanted to hit himself, of course he wouldn't… such a foolish oversight in his part, it was too obvious for someone as sneaky.

"Now, be a good boy and drop your gun if you please." Deceit drawled, sounding a lot more satisfied by the situation than Logan would have liked.

Gritting his teeth, Logan let go of his laser gun and kicked it towards Deceit, this was not looking good for him, he needs a new plan. But Deceit made it so hard for him to think!

"There we go, now that's much better, isn't it?" Deceit snikered, continuing to mock Logan.

Logan closed his eyes. This was it, he was about to break his promise to Virgil, he was going to die.

"Take off your mask." Deceit ordered instead of shooting.

Logan opened his eyes slowly to stare in surprise at the villain in front of him, "what?"

Deceit rolled his eyes, "I know you heard me, c'mon, you might not be the brightest but surely you're not deaf too?" He raised an eyebrow.

Logan swallowed, trying to figure out Deceit's objective here. "W-why?"

"I believe I'm the one with the gun here, I ask the questions, Logic. Take it off." Deceit said, sounding impatient.

Seeing no other choice, Logan grabbed the edges of his mask and slowly pulled it off, being careful around his glasses.

He didn't understand the situation, what could Deceit gain from this? Deceit never did anything if it wasn't in his own best interests. But only seeing Logan's face won't reveal his true identity. Not right away at least… unless they know each other without knowing it… could Deceit have found out something about Logan's true identity?

No… that's impossible… right?

Deceit drew a shaky breath as Logan tossed his mask aside.

"Impossible…" he mattered to himself, "how is this possible?" His hands started to shake around his gun, "L-Logan?" He asked with a sob.

Logan frowned, "do I… know you?" He tried hard to recognize Deceit's voice from his civilian life but nothing came to mind… What's going on here?

"You don't remember… of course you don't, they loved playing with our minds since we were kids…" Deceit continue to matter nonsense and Logan tried desperately to make sense of it.

Who's they? Play with our minds? His parents had mind manipulation powers but they'd never… would they?

"What are you talking about? W-who are you?" Logan asked, confused. Deceit was acting… strange, could this just be another one of his tricks? But for what? He already had Logan unarmed and unmasked, why would he need to trick him?

Deceit moved his hand and Logan flinched, thinking he's going to shoot him after all. But all he did was remove his own mask.

Underneath was a massive scar covering the left side of his face, one of his eyes were green while the other was chocolate brown, and he was looking at Logan with such longing and sadness that had Logan frozen to the spot.

"My name is Janus, I got kidnapped 15 years ago and was presumed dead ever since… I didn't think I had any family left… I barely escaped and have just been trying to survive ever since." Dece- Janus, explained, then lowered his gun with a sigh. "Logan… I'm your brother."

Logan shook his head frantically, "that's not possible, I'm an only child." He insisted, none of it made sense!

Janus let out an empty chuckle, shaking his head, "no, Logan, don't you get it? Our parents erased your memories of me." He countered, "they arranged for me to get kidnapped! They never approved of me, they thought my powers were too villainous, they were afraid of me…" he trailed off with another sigh, "who am I kidding? You're not going to believe a word I say…" he covered his face with his hand.

Logan thought briefly about escaping, Janus wasn't pointing his gun at him anymore and he was clearly deranged… but, a spark of curiosity at this strange behavior kept him where he was. Plus… there was something familiar about Janus… something he couldn't explain.

"...can you prove it?" Logan asked after a while of consideration.

Janus removed his hand from his face and stared at Logan with a spark of hope in his mismatched eyes, "what?"

"Can you prove we're related? …that you're my brother?" He couldn't believe he was asking that but, as crazy as Janus' story sounds… what kind of scientist would he be if he didn't at least test it out?

"Is our resemblance not enough?"

Ah, there's a familiar tone from the guy he's been fighting for the past few months, joking.

But Logan looked closely anyway, there wasn't anything he found to be very similar about their features and the massive scar on half of Janus' face wasn't helping…. But, his eyes.

One of them an earthy green, like Logan's… like his mother. And the other… the other a warm, chocolaty brown… like Logan's dad.

"No… it's a start though." Logan said as he continued to inspect the man in front of him, "anything more?"

Janus laughed lightly, shaking his head, "always so serious…" he thought for a moment, "well, I know you were always way too smart for your own good, you have a weird and pretty entertaining habit of taking things too literally, Agatha Christie is your favorite author… should I continue?"

Logan swallowed, shaking his head, "you could have learned that from Virgil somehow, tell me something only my brother would know and maybe I'll take your story into consideration." He tried desperately to keep his composure but the possibility of him having a long lost brother was… bothersome.

Janus sighed, "well, how about this then, I know that, deep down, you never wanted to be a hero."

The words seemed to hit Logan like a punch to his gut and he tensed, looking wide eyed at Janus. "N-no… you're wrong! I chose this path I-"

"Did you? Or did our parents make you think that this was the only path you can choose? I know you, Logan. We would often talk about it. You expressed to me your desire to simply live your life, instead of carrying the world's weight on your shoulders… you don't believe in heroes and villains, you never did." Janus insisted, walking slowly closer as he talked.

Logan was frozen to the spot… he never told anyone that… there's no way Janus could have found out… could he have simply guessed it? No, it's too accurate for a guess… but how?

"I… never told anyone… not even Virgil… how did you.." the words got stuck in his throat, this can't be true! But at the same time… it has to be true to make sense…

He didn't realize how close Janus got until he felt the light touch of his hand on his shoulder, Janus was smiling softly at him. "I missed you so much, Logan."

Logan pulled away slightly, just enough so he could feel like he could breathe again. "Hold on a moment… what about all this?" He gestured towards Janus' costume and where they were right now, "the damage you caused? The people you hurt?"

Janus raised an eyebrow, "name one person I actually killed or hurt beyond recovery. I told you, I'm just trying to survive, I'm supposed to be dead so can't really have a job, being a hero doesn't really pay and brings too much attention… The villain act was the only thing I could think of, it also helped a bit with the boredom." He laughed slightly, shrugging.

Logan narrowed his eyes, "and what about the weapon you're building?"

Janus waved dismissively, "a ruse to get you here, fed Virgil some incorrect information, wasn't hard. You were gaining on me too much and I just wanted to know who you are to get some advantage… didn't expect you to be my little brother though…" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I see…" was all Logan can think of saying before he went quiet again.

"Does that mean… you believe me now?" Janus asked, looking hesitant but hopeful. "Can we stop fighting each other and go back to being brothers?"

Logan drew a shaky breath, "I… I don't know… I guess it's a start-" he was cut off by Janus crushing him with a hug, something Logan is not usually a fan of, but he found the embrace oddly familiar and found himself melting into it.

"I missed you… Logan, my little genius, I won't leave you again, I promise." Janus whispered softly in his ear, still refusing to let go.

"I think… I think I missed you too, in a way." Logan said, surprised at how true those words felt. My little genius… just like his father used to call him…

They stayed like that for a long while, neither wanting to let go ever again.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #loceitweek2023 #day 2 chalk/masks #Lily writes #cw gun mention #cw weapon #cw blood mention #tw death mention #cw violence #platonic loceit #platonic analogical #ts logan #ts janus #ts virgil