#99% of the time they’re my human ones | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chronic-ghost · 11 months

Text

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍AO3 Link

You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed– it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit.

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever.

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble.

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker.

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game.

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places.

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker.

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford.

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States.

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough.

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles.

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated.

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida.

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck.

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck.

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door.

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you.

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .”

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .”

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes.

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair.

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.”

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.”

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug.

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.”

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.”

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.”

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn.

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?”

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail.

“I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.”

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?”

“Work.”

Well, that was fucking ominous.

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?”

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist.

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado.

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Truth.

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.”

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?”

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!”

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through.

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep.

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes.

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?”

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.”

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated.

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?”

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic.

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.”

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.”

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway.

“You passed the test. Now come here.”

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on.

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air.

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?”

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle.

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.”

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.”

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.”

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?”

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.”

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard.

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.”

“True.”

“I had a dog named Benji.”

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.”

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.”

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.”

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?”

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.”

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.”

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light.

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette.

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?”

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl.

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking.

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify.

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket.

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?”

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously?

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front.

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval.

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.”

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain.

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.”

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak.

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth.

He looks . . . hopeful.

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.”

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful.

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet.

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise.

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping.

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep.

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said?

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar.

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

#trying to get back into the flow of writing frequently if not just for one fic #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #narcos #narcos netflix #also gonna tag this as #poker face #because more people need to see that damn show #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

129 notes · View notes

gayvampyr · 2 years

Text

“chihuahuas are so vicious” imagine if you were so small that people could pick you up and do whatever they want with you, to you, and they did frequently. imagine if you were picked on all the time because people thought it was funny, treating you like a toy or an object because of your size with no regard for your own autonomy or wellbeing, and you didn’t really have any sort of defense mechanism other than growling and biting. imagine a much larger potential threat (who looks just like many other real threats) approached you and you couldn’t tell if they meant you harm, so you told them to back off and they didn’t listen. you’re instinctually gonna go into defensive survival mode. and because you’re so small, you have to use everything you’ve got. and even though your boundaries have been invaded and you were only acting out of self-preservation, you’re now evil, vicious, and inherently aggressive. that’s not fair, is it?

chihuahuas are not mean to you on purpose. they’re not intentionally malicious. they are small animals who have to be on defense at all times because they’re an easy target and generally get treated horribly by people who do not think they are living creatures deserving of autonomy and respect.

i have a chihuahua whom everyone thinks is mean for no reason, that he just wants to bite you because he’s a bad dog. but this chihuahua has been abused by the vast majority of people who have come in contact with him since birth. people who pick him up and move him in ways he doesn’t like, pushing him, chasing him and watching him try to run on his little legs, making him growl and getting him riled up because “it’s soo funny when a little animal tries to be ferocious.” but now that he’s a bit bigger, it’s not so funny anymore. now it’s a sign of amorality and malice. now he’s just a mean, grumpy dog who hates everyone. and then there’s the added stressor of having epilepsy, and having random assholes mess with him causing him to have seizures, so he has to be extra vigilant. and i have a big dog, a lab, who no one has ever done these things to, because it’s just so commonplace to treat little dogs like shit just because they’re little. it makes me so mad to see the way people try to turn it around and make it seem like my chihuahua is the one in the wrong here when he is a victim of circumstance, as most of them are.

you have to earn chihuahuas’ trust as much as any other animal. bigger dogs typically have the luxury of being trusting (given the right environment) because they not only are generally treated better, but have the size and strength to fight if need be, which is why we as humans don’t approach them out of nowhere let alone try to make them angry for laughs. i mean when you look at how humans react to bears, moose, or really any larger animal you should understand the wariness chihuahuas have of us. i don’t get why people who call themselves animal-lovers are so quick to dismiss and write off small dogs as a whole when 99% of the time, their demeanor is a direct result of past treatment. they just need patience and respect. it’s frankly ludicrous to expect to be automatically given full trust by an animal whom you could very easily wound or even mortally injure. just. use your brain and try to act with compassion, please

#animal abuse #text post #people are so so mean to little dogs and it makes me so mad. they’re just little guys #my dog was super sweet as a puppy too. his happiness was taken from him and now he gets blamed for it? fuck that noise

406 notes · View notes

heyclickadee · 6 months

Text

@cas-echo Okay, soooo, here’s my set of theories for the skull. Sort of theories, anyway. They’re whatever you call it when it’s halfway between theory and headcanon:

I think there are multiple possible reasons for why Clone Force 99 took the skull motif and then ran with it, especially since those skulls show up in a couple different ways, and I think it’s worth looking at them separately.

First off, there are the skulls we see on the faces of the original four bad batchers’ helmets:

You’ve got the slightly more naturalistic but still angry looking skull on half of Hunter’s helmet; the less human and more monstrous looking skull on Wrecker’s; the very neat, streamlined, stylized skull on Crosshair’s helmet; and then the one on Tech’s helmet, which so heavily stylized it’s basically just the white part of his helmet forming the basic shape of the front third of a skull, with the bottom part of his helmet forming a mandible. The only one of the adult batchers who doesn’t have the helmet motif obviously worked into the face of their helmet is Echo:

The shape is kind of almost there, but it’s hard to tell if it’s deliberately a skull or not—and if it was, it seems like Echo chose not to highlight it as much as the others did.

I haven’t really settled on one headcanon or theory for why Clone Force 99 settled on a skull generally, why the original four have skulls over their helmets, and why those skulls all look a little different, but here’s a general list of ideas:

1. They came up with it when they were developmentally/biologically fifteen and ran and ran with it in a ‘teenagers think skulls are cool’ kind of way. I don’t actually think this is that likely, but it’s a possibility.

2. They came up with it when they were developmentally/biologically fifteen and ran with it in an edgy but justified, ‘we’re all doomed’ kind of way. Again, this isn’t where I’m landing with this most of the time, but it could be a factor.

3. Hunter got really drunk and got a skull tattooed over half his face, and the rest of them ran with it out of solidarity. (I don’t actually think this happened, but it is a little funny to think about.)

4. Hunter, completely sober, got the skull tattoo in a moment of ennui, and the rest of them ran with it out of solidarity again. (I don’t really think this happened, either. There are a ton of nerve endings in the skin on your face, and with Hunter’s enhanced senses, that tattoo probably hurt for a couple weeks. That wasn’t something he did on a whim, and they probably all decided on the skull theme before he did it. But it’s more lighthearted than the rest of these are going to be, so….)

5. It was part of attempt to tie their helmet designs into the designs of the regular clone helmets. There is something slightly skull like about clone helmets. Not to the same extent as storm trooper helmets, but it is about halfway there (Maybe not there enough to make this count, but we’re running with this here). It’s possible that the bad batchers, whose helmets are all shaped to their individual needs picked up on this and went with the skull motif in a, “hey, we’re clones too,” kind of way. I tend to hover between a “maybe no” and “maybe that was one of the ideas that went into it” on this one.

Aaaand, getting into stuff I do think is more likely now (I think of all three of these next things as operating simultaneously. They’re not separate, it’s just easier to list them separately):

6. Medical trauma. I’m banking in this as part of the reasoning behind Hunter’s tattoo and the 8-bit lightning skull on Tech’s earmuffs, too. There’s a non-zero chance that these guys have seen each others’ skeletons, and another non-zero chance that they’ve seen their own.

7. There’s a self-aware acknowledgement of how other people see them to the batch’s use of the skulls, and on two levels. First, there’s the acknowledgement that they, clones generally, are considered dead men walking by most everyone around them. This had to be part of the thinking, even if it was a small part.

And then there’s the other level—tailoring each of the skulls on their helmets to how they think other clones and other people generally see them and using that perception as the mask they wear into battle (and honestly, I think there’s an aspect of this to Hunter’s and Crosshair’s tattoos, too).

And here’s a rundown of how people who don’t know them we’ll probably see them: Hunter—the brooding one who’s scary good with a knife? That’s a guy that’ll kill you up close. Angry impressionistic skull it is. Crosshair, the cold, quiet one who can shoot? The skull on his helmet had better be clean, geometrical, and emphasize the one thing everyone knows he can do. Tech, the know-it-all who talks a little stiffly and way too much (I’m sorry, you know that Tech got shit like this, they absolutely talked about him like he was a computer)? He’s going to simplify the shape of that skull down so much that you really have to look to see that it’s a human skull at all, especially if he’s got the visor down. And Wrecker? Wrecker, who’s larger than life, massively strong, and almost frightening (listen, Wrecker also got the same shit as Tech did, just in the opposite direction; people absolutely talked about Wrecker like he was a brute and probably did so in front of him)? Well, he’s painting his helmet so that his skull has a scary monster face.

And to be completely clear, none of that is who they are—that’s what people who don’t know them well see. And there’s kind of an interesting “up yours” in the batch potentially taking the things people wrongly perceive as being “off” about them and incorporating the look of that it into the helmets they wear to protect themselves. Kind of works on a meta level, too*

8. And, jumping off of that, here’s the main thing I think is going on: There’s absolutely a little bit of Jolly Roger style psychological warfare going on with those helmet skulls, too. You’re on the opposing side and you see those skulls? Better surrender and make things easier for everyone, because these guys are going to kill you. They’re like vultures**—they’re symbols of death, but not their own deaths. Call an ambulance, but not for them.

So, that’s what I’ve got for the skulls on the helmets. Now, as far as skulls being the team motif and this particular skull:

They all have this. At least, at the beginning of the show, all of them have this skull painted on their right shoulder pauldron, except for Echo, who has it stenciled on the left side of his cuirass.

I think there’s definitely something to be made for why Echo’s got that skull in a different place and why his helmet doesn’t do the skull thing as much as the others, but. The other day, I put up a post about how it had been bugging me that the skull Clone Force 99 uses as their squad logo has the proportions of a child’s skull. For evidence of that, here’s the logo overlaid with an adult skull, versus the logo overlaid with the skull of a three year old:

The three year old’s skull fits much closer than the adult’s does.

And it had been bugging me because, well, on the one hand, real world special ops groups using a skull as their logo isn’t actually that uncommon. And, honestly, I do think that was probably where the germ of the idea came from on the production side of things before they really started thinking through it, but I don’t think that’s where it ended. Because it’s usually, you know, an angry skull. With a beret or a helmet. An “I’m gonna kill you” skull with a gun. It’s usually not a completely placid child’s skull. But Clone Force 99’s squad logo is, and I’ve got exactly two theories for why.

1. It’s not supposed to be a child’s skull, it’s just a regular skull that had to be squished to fit, please stop overthinking this. Very possible. Definitely possible. But it’s boring.

2. Just like the way they’re Clone Force 99 when 99 was both 99’s name and the designation given to all the clones who didn’t come out “right”, and just like the way the bad batch called themselves “the bad batch,” that skull is it’s both an in memoriam to other “defective” clones and a gigantic “fuck you” to the Kaminoans.

Clone society is one on which the Kaminoans actively practiced eugenics. There’s a reason there are very few disabled-from-the-tube clones running around besides the batch and 99. Clones who didn’t align to product standards were probably either, well…decommissioned, or they were experimented on. And it’s possible that there was an age cut-off point for that, where certain “defective” clones who seemed normal enough were allowed to develop (and be used as lab rats) until very early childhood (say, physically three or four), and decommissioned if it looked like they wouldn’t be useful. If it looked like they were going to be useful, experimentation would continue. We know from both Nala Se saying “five are all that remain” and the frighteningly large number of tubes in her private lab that Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair weren’t the only clones she experimented on, and I don’t think the experimentation stopped when they were sent to be with the other clones. They’re just probably the only ones who lived to adulthood.

So. That team logo? A gigantic “fuck you” to the Kaminoans. A “look at us, we survived past the age you usually killed us, we’re ‘defective’ and good at what we do, fuck your idea of defective, and fuck you for killing the others,” in their faces. I honestly don’t care if that was intentional on the part of anyone working in production, that’s how I’m interpreting it.

*Kind of an aside, but it’s fun to look at the contrast between the skulls on the faces of all their helmets and the actual looks on all faces in those original season one character posters. Hunter looks a little scared and uncertain, Crosshair looks conflicted and/or in pain, Wrecker’s got this very gentle half-smile on his face, and then Tech has this intense glare aimed at the camera like he’s going to kick its entire ass.

**I have a completely unhinged rant about vultures in my drafts that I’ll probably never actually finish.

#the bad batch #cw child death #eugenics #cw eugenics #sorry the end of this gets dark #you need another reason to hate the Kaminoans?#because I got one right here #anyway kind of feel like the conspiracy guy ranting in front of the conspiracy board with this one #is this intentional?#maybe #do I care?#no

65 notes · View notes

masodemic · 1 year

Text

For the past 2 days, the Mononoke team’s decision to recast the Medicine Seller has been living rent free in my head. And today I come to offer another perspective.

Because of the way animation in general does not allow for much appearance of the creators, much of the public credit and acknowledgement go to the only slither of humanity that can be seen or rather … heard. People equate their favorite characters with the providers of their voices. Kaji Yuki is literally Eren Jaeger. Dante Basco is literally Zuko. And Sakurai Takahiro is literally Shirokuma, Osomatsu, Makishima, Rohan, Kusuriuri, etc. Except this is a very reductive view because in truth, the voice actor does not, at all, play any part in the actual creation of a character or vision. They are the missing piece of a puzzle, but the other 99 pieces, the base, the frame, they’re the works of the writers, the designers, artists, animators, and directors. The voice actor simply HELPS bring that vision to life per directed, they are not creators.

In light of the recast decision, I have seen outcries saying that without Sakurai Takahiro, the Medicine Seller is no longer the Medicine Seller, which is a sentiment I can understand. I, too, have deep attachments to the characters voiced by him, and thus, indirectly, to his voice. But while his voice is perfect for such calm, mysterious, almost mystical character, consider this. Would you want a main character of a story that intentionally explores the lived reality of women in history (both pain and gain) through a humanizing lens, whose affiliation is neutral but with subtle acknowledgement and empathy for the victims of each crime (who are mostly women), to be voiced by a man who has, for a very long time, deceived and taken advantage of the women in his life? The compatibility between Sakurai Takahiro and the Medicine Seller is purely superficial, they stand for complete opposite things. And the team, while fully know the risks they are taking, sided with their creation.

With that decision, their creative interest is fully protected. By recasting the Medicine Seller, they are asserting their rightful claim to the credits of creating both the character, AND the series. THEY are the mysterious lines spoken in several intakes of breath, THEY are the glamorous kimono, THEY are the cheeky and mischievous actions that also imply a sense of misanthropy. The Medicine Seller is NOT, and never has been, Sakurai Takahiro. Secondly, with such cruel actions as his reputation, it is difficult for any production to continue working with Sakurai Takahiro, especially in a lead role where he would no doubt be involved in many promotional materials and inevitably be linked with its name. Hence, it is likely that, without any drastic action, upon finishing this movie, the Mononoke team, too, might close its door and try to move on. But by detaching him from the name, they are now able to look forward into the future and continue to conceptualize the universe that we all love and crave, without the weight of such an impactful and disrespectful scandal, that directly contradicts their stance, on their mind.

In all, with the single brave decision to recast one of the most recognizable traits of their central character, the Mononoke team has protected their character, their work, their creation. It is truly commendable.

#actual footage of the Mononoke team axing sakurai #kusuriuri #mononoke 2023 #mononoke 2007 #mononoke medicine seller #mononoke kusuriuri #mononoke anime #medicine seller #sakurai takahiro

270 notes · View notes

faithfromanewperspective · 7 months

Text

warlocks and menstruation

so I was thinking how biologically it doesn’t make sense for warlocks to menstruate indefinitely. like we’re all born with our eggs or whatever follicle thingos will develop into them, they don’t just replenish like sperm, eventually they’ll run out after 50 years or less like maybe for a warlock with 2-3 times our egg count you could push it to 100 but that is quite far from forever. of course, apart from Tessa, all warlocks are sterile and so there isn’t really a problem there, only the question of whether they menstruate to begin with. I’ll get back to my theory of what does happen with Tessa soon but first I have to ask an important question: why, when checking if Tessa was a warlock, did they not first ask whether she gets normal periods? Shadowhunters do as far as we know they’re just normal humans in that. Warlocks—the accords were new enough and periods taboo enough then that it’s possible Shadowhunters just never bothered to check that. But still. It’s a question that should have been asked, given that Tessa was 16 when she came and more than old enough to have started her period by then.

(she also didn’t have iratzes for her cramps like Charlotte and jessamine and lucie and everyone)

Anyway I’m going to assume that given she never thinks anything is weird Tessa did have her period when she came to the Institute. I’m also going to assume by something that idiot Mortmain who knew nothing of biology (but did seem to know Tessa’s species as well as anyone) said that she wasn’t going to be able to reproduce just yet at 17 (hence the lack of pregnancy scare after the cave yknow cause they def didn’t use protection) which does set her apart from humans and Shadowhunters—we know that you’re Very Fertile at that age (which Tatiana found out for comparison). We also know that she had two children one year apart, and then none for at least 17 years if not 125 years. And she was quite sexually active with Will between the early 1880s and sometime in the 1930s (yes sperm quality does decline with age but if you have enough sex it stacks up your chances and at some point it’s always possible) in a time where birth control wasn’t nearly as reliable as it is today (all I’m saying is I don’t put their lack of a third child down to birth control).

so, in order to attempt to figure out Tessa’s uterus I’m going to visit the animal kingdom, especially birds: within this class you have birds who alt-menstruate (lay eggs) pretty much all year round til later in life (chickens) which are like humans in that regard, we’re fertile all year. You also have birds (like 99% of them actually) that are fertile at a very specific time of every year and mate and lay 3-4 eggs only (chickens can lay up to 300 eggs a year or more if they’re selectively bred for it; naturally this figure is closer to 150 without human intervention and selective breeding) and sit on them and hatch them. Then spend the rest of the year with their reproductive organs dormant (did you know a bird’s reproductive organs grow 300 times bigger during their laying season?) and I figure, I think I solved our mystery.

Because you’re not going to run out of eggs if you make it a cyclical seasonal kind of thing. Not annual, warlocks live far too long for that, but the earth has more cycles than just annual ones, ENSO and the Indian Ocean Dipole are examples of that. So I propose that Tessa menstruates for a couple years on and then several years off, like 99% of birds if you just stretched out time to be more like warlock time. Which would make sense as to why she had James and Lucie in such a small window and heavily reduce her chances of and accidental third pregnancy with Victorian/Edwardian era birth control.

tldr I don’t think Tessa menstruates consistently for 150+ years

#tessa gray #tessa herondale #tessa carstairs #warlocks #tsc #tid #periods #menstruation

45 notes · View notes

sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Text

If You're Smart You'd Read This:

I’m in my 20’s.

I write adult shit so children shouldn’t be interacting with me or my posts.

Blank pages /Ageless pages /Minors get blocked. Like 90% of the shit i post is not suitable for yall lmao.

Don’t ask me for tips/advice on anything such as art, your writing, anything. Google it. Thats what I did.

I speak my opinion. And if you don’t agree idc.

It’s very easy to be blocked by me. So don’t try out the theory of it.

YOU CANNOT BE ANONYMOUS WHEN REQUESTING ONLY NSFW If you want a nsfw request you have to unanon yourself so i can see ur age in ur bio.

Do not ask me super personal questions.

Do not ask me why I will or wont do something.

Do not be annoying and send long mf hcs in my ask. It’ll get deleted.

Do not try and keep having a whole convo w me in my ask (unless ur my mutual) esp. if u anon.

Speaking of Mutuals. I have mutual bias. So theres some things I let them do/say to me that my followers cant.

I will not write: Piss play, rape, incest, furry stuff, Alpha/Omega verse, pet play🧍🏾‍♀️ and will ABSOLUTELY NOT write anything blasphemous about God or other religions

Please only use my ask box for request or genuine questions

I don’t do emergency request

I do not write catgirl or catboy stuff or anything w furries ig (all humans only)

I will write for other fandoms besides One Piece! An example (but not limited to): Jujustu Kaisen, Naruto, Fire Force, Gangsta, etc

Speaking of One Piece my page does contain MAJOR spoilers (ill try to put warnings if i can)

I mostly write for POC/Black Fem Readers but it’s not limited most of the time. Any girl can read.

If you request something please give me time :( I can only write so much in a day.

I hate like 99% of ships people have made in all fandoms so please don’t tell me yours, and if you ask me opinions on them I will be brutally honest with it.

I do not tolerate any form of racism, bullying, or homophobia here. It’s annoying go away.

I also don’t gaf if you don’t agree with my HC…I just…bro go write em yourself I’m not writing these for you.

Please don’t trauma dump on me…just don’t I’m not a therapist.

If you want something specific BE SPECIFIC

I don’t really care for dark content(?) I’m not really sure what it is exactly it is (because I’m stupid) so if your request dark content lmk and if I feel uncomfortable with it ill decline lol

I will NOT Write NSFW for characters like Chopper, Brook, etc

I will NOT Write for demons like Sukuna or characters from Obey Me

If your share repost/blog my writing please give credit!

I really only write female x male NSFW. (I will however write fxf or mxm platonically) That’s just personal preference and what I feel best writing :) please respect that decision.

I don’t do character x character writing unless it’s canon (…or if it’s eren and Mikasa i—)

I do NOT age up characters for nsfw writing. If they’re not canonically already an adult or have a pre timeskip I’m not doing that. I’ll do SFW ones though!

I do have to right to not write for a character I just simply don’t like so don’t get mad if I don’t.

Remember: this is mf FAN FICTION writing. Just a bunch of ideas I have in my weird head so if u don’t like or agree with it dip.

I’ll keep this rule list updated (ill reblog when i update the list) when I can if new stuff comes up. I’m relatively new on here so bare with me :(

#rules #read it dammit

147 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 1 year

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS VERSUS SONG Bloody Night Animate Tokuten Drama CD ”The Contest is the Smell of Money!? ~The Vampires’ Desire~”

Original title: コンクールはお金の香り!?～ヴァンパイアたちの欲望

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS SONG Animate Tokuten Drama CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke, Katsuyuki Konishi, Midorikawa Hikaru, Takahiro Sakurai, Kimura Ryouhei & Morikawa Toshiyuki

Translator’s note: Once again, the Vampires prove that they are more human than anyone else because their number one motivator in life is...sweet, sweet money. xD They’re all so thirsty for cash 99% of the time, it’s honestly hilarious. I wonder what else you could push them to do, just because there’s a large amount of prize money on the line. The climax of this CD kind of caught me off guard because I expected they would just royally fuck up on the day of the concert but no...They never even got to enter lol. Great move by the MC. They don’t really hint at what her explanation for not submitting the application on time was, but I want to believe that she did it on purpose to get revenge for all the times they treated her like trash. You go girl.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Haah…God…The fuck is this? And here I thought I’d head straight home to pick on Chichinashi…Oi, you. Have you heard anythin’ ‘bout what’s goin’ on?

*Flip*

Ruki: Hm…

Ayato: Oi, bastard! You’re just gonna ignore me, huh!?

Ruki: Was my lack of a response not clear enough of an answer?

Ayato: Aah…!?

Ruki: Haah…

Ruki closes his book.

Ruki: I haven’t heard anything. Now relax. I am sure we will find out sooner or later.

Ayato: But you know…Whoever decided to gather this group of people here must be fuckin’ bonkers. I feel like we’re bein’ set up for some weird shit.

*Rustle*

Kou: Well…I guess I can’t blame you for feeling that way…

Carla: Heh…

Ayato: Anyway, how come you’re here as well, Carla? I can’t imagine you’d actually show up under normal circumstances.

Carla: Is my appearance truly that puzzling?

Ruki: Well, I do believe you must have a solid reason for doing so.

Kou: I mean, Mr. ‘Almighty Founder’ doesn’t even show up for class usually, does he~?

Carla: I had nothing better to do, that is all.

Ayato: Smells fishy.

Kou: Right? I can only imagine you have some kind of ulterior motive.

Carla: You fiends…Who do you think you are talking to…?

Ayato: Hah!? You wanna throw down!? Fine, I accept your challenge!

Reiji: Come on now, everyone. Please stop getting up in each other’s faces like that.

Ruki: Hm? This voice is…?

Reiji enters the room.

*Rattle*

Ayato: Reiji…? Don’t tell me you’re the one who…?

Reiji: I had no other choice. Otherwise you lot would have never shown up.

Carla: Oi, you. You are the one who summoned me here. So it must be safe to assume that you had a good reason for doing so?

Reiji: You are rather impatient, are you not? I shall explain shortly, so please wait a few more minutes.　ーー For starters, I would like all of you to take a look at this.

Reiji starts distributing flyers.

*Flip*

Carla: …Hm? …This isーー!?

Ruki: Could it be…?

Ayato: Haah!? A music competition!?

Reiji: Exactly. We will participate in it.

Kou: Eh? You’re joking, right?

Reiji: No, I am dead serious.

Ayato: …!? Are you out of your mind!? You want to sign up with the people gathered here?

Reiji: Yes. I have carefully selected a group of people who would aim for victory.

Ruki: I see…You are after the prize money, correct?

Kou: Hm? What do you mean?

Carla: Take a good look at the flyer. Especially at the part about the prize.

*Flip*

Ayato: …!? For real…!? The winner gets…ten thousand dollars!? (1)

Kou: No way!?

Ruki: It must be a print mistake of some sorts, right?

Shuu: Sounds too suspicious.

Reiji: Oh my, Shuu. Seems like someone has finally woken up.

Shuu: You really think I could sleep with you guys making such a fuss?

Reiji: I believe it is more likely that it was the prize money which caught your attention…But oh well. Ahem. I have already contacted the organizers about it. It would appear that our school would like to shift their focus on attracting promising artists, so to catch the attention of potential stars from all across the country, they have chosen to attach a bountiful prize to the contest.

Kou: I see. I expected no less from Reiji-kun! Nothing gets past you.

Reiji: Of course not. …So, what will you do?

Ayato: What do you mean? Are you askin’ us whether we’ll participate or not?

Reiji: Yes…According to my data, the people I have gathered here have the highest chance at success.

Shuu: And how exactly? We’re the only ones who have any sort of musical talent, right?

Kou: Excuse me!? I have published my own CDs, you know!?

Shuu: Those are not even worth mentioning.

Kou: Haah!?

Shuu: I mean, think about it. We’re joining a musical competition, not some kind of concert. Unless you’ve actually taken proper vocal music classes?

Reiji: Shuu…It would appear to me that you don’t understand the true meaning of a contest.

Shuu: What do you mean?

Reiji: In a contest, the winner is decided by the judges’ votes. In other words…By people.

Ruki: I see. So appearance is an important factor as well.

Reiji: Exactly. I am glad you are quick to understand.

Kou: In other words…Since I’m a good-looking idol, it’s possible that I could appeal to the judges?

Ruki: Exactly. Humans are so easily won over by appearance. It is possible they will let you get away with making some mistakes because your looks make up for it.

Kou: Ruki-kun, how mean…That doesn’t make me happy at all.

Shuu: Then what about the other two guys? Ayato most likely has zero experience with music whatsoever, and I can’t imagine old man Carla (2) over there playing music either.

Carla: You fiends…You really do not hold back at all, do you? Calling me elderly, a fossil or even an old woman!

Kou: Wait, nobody ever called you an old woman, did they?

Ayato: I actually took violin lessons many, many years ago!

Reiji: Exactly. I remember.

Shuu: Are you talking about when aunt Cordelia forced him to start taking classes in hopes of competing against us?

Ruki: Heeh…The eldest triplet plays the violin, huh? That’s new information to me.

Shuu: If I recall correctly…He gave up after just one week and smashed his instrument.

Ayato: Just so you know, that wasn’t my fault!

Shuu: Hm?

Ayato: That hysteric old hag destroyed it during one of her crazy moments. I mean, I was glad that I didn’t have to bother with those lessons anymore.

Shuu: …I guess destroying violins was her thing, huh?

Reiji: …W-Well…Anyway! He isn’t a complete amateur when it comes to music, so his chances are somewhat higher than any of the other guys. …And you, Carla, you are none other than a Founder, aren’t you?

Carla: …!

Reiji: The cream of the crop of all Demons…A First Blood. Therefore I believe it is only safe to assume that you would have no issues mastering music, a human invention?

Carla: W-Well…

Ruki: I guess it might be tricky after all?

Carla: A-As if…! I am a First Blood! A Founder! There is nothing I cannot do!

*Clap clap clap*

Reiji: A true Founder!

Shuu: …I wonder.

Reiji: That being said, what will you all do? Will you participate?

Ruki: I would like to ask one question. I assume that we will be splitting the prize money even amongst all participants?

Reiji: Hm? Of course.

Ruki: In that case, I’m in. Kou as well.

Kou: Eh!? Excuse me!? Why!?

Ruki: Don’t play dumb now. Whose fault do you think it is that we have to be so careful with our spendings?

Kou: …!? W-Well…

Ruki: It is your fault for being such an impulsive buyer. Isn’t that right?

Kou: Nnー...

Ayato: …I don’t want to! Joining a contest sounds like a big pain in the ass.

Reiji: Hooh? Is that so? What a shame…If you were to win, then the ‘takoyaki pool’ you have dreamt of for years might just be able to become reality.

Ayato: …!?

Shuu: I’m skipping out as well. It’s obviously too much trouble.

Reiji: Oh dear, is that so? I mean, I personally don’t mind since the less people participate, the less people we have to split the money between. …You might just be able to buy the antique gramophone you’ve been wanting so badly though.

Shuu: …!?

Reiji: Ah, right, right! The jamon iberico you love so much, Carla, you should be able to purchase a few logs of it with the prize money.

Carla: …!! You shall not bribe me with such a thing!!

Reiji: Ahaha. Of course not. You are a lofty Founder after all. You must not let yourself be won over by money, correct?

Carla: Exactly!

Reiji: However…It truly is a shame, isn’t it? It would be such a perfect opportunity to get an entire log of the finest quality jamon iberico. That vaguely nutty flavor spreading inside your mouth…growing stronger and stronger as you chew. Seasoned to perfection.

Carla: …Ah…

Reiji: I suppose you three do not want any of those things. It is a shame, truly.

Ayato, Shuu & Carla: …

Ayato: G-Guess I have no other choice…If you insist…I suppose I do have some free time on my hands anyway.

Shuu: I had been thinking it was about time I picked up the violin again…I guess this is the perfect opportunity.

Reiji: Oh my, is that so? I am glad.

*Rustle*

Reiji: Then, what about you, Carla?

Carla: Hm…I shall help you out. It is one of my many duties as a Founder to show compassion towards the lower masses after all.

Reiji: I see. I am terribly grateful for that.

Ruki: Seems like we’ve come to a conclusion. In that case, we should apply at once. I shall head to the agency at oーー

Reiji: Ah! About that, I suggest we leave that up to her. She does not seem to have anything better to do after all.

Ruki: Hm. I understand. Let us start practicing at once then. Time is money. If we want to aim for victory, then we have no other choice but to practice as much as we can.

Kou: But what exactly will we do with our group? We can’t pull off an orchestra, can we?

Reiji: Please do not worry about that. I have come with a plan. We will participate in two groups of three members each.

Ruki: I see. To get as much out of it as we can, correct?

Carla: What do you mean?

*Flip*

Ruki: According to this flyer, a prize will be awarded to both first and second place. If we participate in two groups and get both prizes…

Reiji: The combined prize money would be fifteen million yen. Split amongst us six, it means each of us would get a total of two million fifty thousand yen.

Ayato: Woah…! Amazing!

Reiji: Right? As for the groups…I suggest Kou, Carla and myself as one group and Shuu, Ayato and Ruki as the other, effectively splitting up Shuu and myself as we have the most experience with music.

Ruki: I believe those are well-balanced groups.

Reiji: Why of course. I put them together based on precise, evidence-based data after all.

*Rattle*

Kou: Ah! M-neko-chan~!

Ayato: Chichinashi!

Reiji: Oh dear, what’s the matter? Is there something you need?

You explain.

Reiji: I see. You came to check up on us? Well, I suppose you would find it intriguing why the teacher would lend us the music classroom and its instruments.

Ayato: Perfect timing! Chichinashi, you should join our team!

*Rustle*

Kou: Eh? Hold up! M-neko-chan is coming this way…She’s joining our group!

Ayato: Haah!? Excuse me!?

*Clap clap clap*

Reiji: Stop right there, no fighting! While we may have split up in two groups, we are still on the same team.

Ruki: Exactly. Now is not the time to have a fall-out. …Oi, Livestock. You shall listen to our performance as we practice and act as our advisor.

Shuu: Well, I guess we need someone who can give us some objective input. Let’s not question whether or not she’s the right person to do so though…

Reiji: Ahem. Well then, I suppose we should discuss within our teams who will play which instrument first.

*TIMESKIP*

*Rustle*

Reiji: Well then…As for our team, I believe it makes most sense to start by asking which instrument each of you feels most comfortable with and then we can decide on our line-up based on that.

Kou: Hm…Why not? Seems like the most logical solution.

Carla: I am a Founder. You can assign me any instrument you like.

Reiji: What…do you mean by that?

Carla: That I can play each one with ease.

Kou: Really!?

Carla: Why would I lie about such a thing?

Reiji: I see. I suppose you were not simply bluffing earlier. In which case, I shall randomly assign you an instrument…Kou, what about you?

Kou: Um…I could probably handle the end-blow flute, the triangle, the tambourine…

Reiji: Any string or wind instruments?

Kou: Hm… For percussion instruments, maybe the djembe, ngoma? (3)

Carla: What are those?

Kou: They’re African instruments! The locals taught me how to play them when I visited the area during one of my on location photo shoots.

Reiji: Those are some awfully niche choices…As an idol, are you not capable of playing any instruments with a little more flair? Like the piano or the flute?

Kou: Hmー I can play some simple tunes with one hand on the piano…

Reiji: That simply won’t do…

Carla: I mean, we do not actually need to play for real, do we?

Kou: Huh? What do you mean?

Carla: All you need to do is pretend to be playing. Say we go for a violin trio, then only Reiji and myself need to be able to actually play the instrument.

Reiji: I see. I suppose we have that option as well.

Carla: Exactly. One cannot get delicious cured ham by only playing fair.

Reiji: Exactly. …Nor will I be able to get my hands on that high-tech built-in kitchen…

Kou: Huh? Did you say something just now?

Reiji: No, not at all.

You try to convince them to keep things fair.

Carla: Excuse me? Did you say something just now?

Reiji: Hmー Well…I suppose it is true that we risk losing our prize money if they find out that we cheated.

Kou: I’ll do the vocals instead then! Although I haven’t actually ever taken proper singing classes like Shuu-kun mentioned either.

Reiji: That sounds good. Let us go with that. You should not have any complaints then either, correct?

You nod.

Reiji: Well then. From the various scores I have brought with me…

*Flip flip*

Reiji: This one should work. Let us practice this for about an hour and then we can try to put everything together.

Carla: I can go right here, right now.

Reiji: Oh, come on. At least check the score first.

Carla: Hmph.

You start walking away.

Carla: Oi, you. Where are you going?

You explain.

Carla: Ah…You want to go check up on the other group? …Well, I am somewhat curious as well. Now that I have decided I will participate, I definitely do not want to lose to them.

Kou: Eeh~? We don’t really need to compete amongst each other, right? As long as one of our groups wins, we’ll split the prize money anyway.

Carla: That is not my style.

Reiji: Hm…I guess you have a point. I believe it only makes sense to want to aim for first place with our group.

Kou: Hm…Well, I guess being ‘first’ sounds kind of nice.

Carla: Oi, woman. You heard us. I shall allow you to investigate the other group. Once you are done, I expect you to report back to me at once. Understood?

Kou: M-neko-chan, we’re counting on you~! Off you go~!

You head towards the other group.

*Rustle*

Shuu: Well then…About our group…The two of you don’t need to do anything. Or rather, please don’t.

Ayato: Aah!? The fuck!? What do you mean!?

Shuu: I don’t want you two to hold me back.

Ayato: That tone of yours is really pissin’ me off. You usually don’t give a shit ‘bout anythin’, so what makes today different?

Shuu: My gramophone is on the line here…Besides, music is kind of dear to me. Oh well, my reasoning doesn't matter. Anyway, it’d obviously be better for me to perform a solo act than to try and force some weird instrumental trio.

Ayato: Look who’s talking when you haven’t even heard me perform yet!

Shuu: I’m saying this because I unfortunate have heard you play.

Ayato: Ah!? For real!?

Shuu: Back in the past, I thought some idiot was playing around by opening and closing some rusty, old door of our castle, when it turned out the sound was coming from you playing the violin.

Ayato: …!!

Shuu: Besides, you haven’t touched the violin in years, have you?

Ayato: W-Well…

Shuu: I’m spot on, aren’t I? …As for you, Ruki, I’m pretty sure you grew up in an environment where music was the least of your worries?

Ruki: It appears you have quite the faulty image of me. I was actually rather good at playing the violin.

Shuu: Heeh…That’s surprising. In that case…Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?

*Rustle*

Shuu grabs one of the violins and plays a bit.

Shuu: …You can choose any song you want, try and play a bit.

Ruki: Very well.

Ruki plays the violin as well.

Ruki: …As easy as pie.

Ayato: …Kuh!

Shuu: …Heeh. You’re not half bad.

Ruki: What do you think? I bet you wouldn’t mind letting me join the performance now?

Shuu: I mean, I have to admit that you are miles above Ayato in terms of skill.

Ayato: Ugh…Fuck off! Do you really have to put it like that!? I can easily pull that off as well!

Ayato grabs the violin.

Ayato: Gimme that!

*Rustle*

Ayato: Now listen closely, ‘kay? ーー Kuh!

Ayato plays the violin badly.

Ruki: Ugh…What a disaster…

Shuu: Kuh…Cut it out! You’re making my ears bleed!

Ayato: …Huh? That’s weird…? Fuck! One more try!

*Rustle*

He plays just as badly.

Shuu: …Enough!

Shuu steals the violin from him as you walk up to them.

Ruki: …Hm? Oh, it’s you, Livestock. Why do you look terrified?

You explain.

Shuu: Hm? Screams? Ahー That was Ayato playing the violin. You’re not wrong to compare it to someone screeching.

Ayato: Chichinashi, you bitch…!

Ruki: Well, I guess you realize why you have to give up now?

Shuu: Just pretend you are playing instead.

You protest.

Shuu: …I know you’re against cheating but you heard his performance earlier, didn’t you?

You offer for Ayato to sing instead.

Ruki: Kou will be singing for the other group? Which means…

Shuu: Vocals, huh?

Ayato: …I just gotta sing, right!?

Shuu: Guess we have no other choice. Let’s go with that.

Ayato: I’ll blow your socks off with my beautiful voice!

Shuu: Anyway, you got a feel of what the other group’s doing, right? How are things coming together?

You explain.

Ruki: I see. The other group as well. I cannot wait to show them what we’ve got.

Ayato: I mean, as long as we do a half-decent job, we shouldn’t lose to them, right?

Shuu: Anyway, we should probably get some practice in as well and then come back together after an hour.

Ruki: Agreed.

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji: Well then, we should probably show each other what we’ve got so far.

Ruki: We just gathered together again. I believe your group did as well?

Reiji: Yes, exactly. …You seem very well informed.

Carla: You must have a lot of time on hand to eavesdrop on our group from the shadows.

Shuu: She’s the one who informed you guys as well, right? We’re in the same boat then.

Carla & Reiji: …!!

Kou: Why are you guys being so competitive towards each other when we’re all working towards the same goal…? I mean, whatever. Anyway, let’s just get to it. This isn’t the real deal yet. We’re only practicing.

Ruki: Even so, we still have to try our best.

Reiji: Exactly. Well then, how will we go about this? I believe this is the prime opportunity to decide which one of our groups is superior in terms of skill.

Carla: Fufufu…I shall show you something truly breathtaking!

Kou: Uwah~ It’s no use. His switch got flipped.

Carla: Oi, woman! You shall judge who is the superior group, understood?

Ayato: Hey, bastard! Don’t be threatenin’ Chichinashi now! She’s gonna get scared and favor you guys as a result!

Carla: I am not intimidating her in the slightest. Once you hear our performance, it will be clear that we will come out victorious. …Oi, Four-Eyes. Let us begin.

Reiji: …’Four-Eyes’, could you be referring to me, by any chance?

Carla: You are the only one here wearing glasses, are you not?

*Rustle*

Reiji: …I am rather displeased by that remark.

Kou: Let’s get this party started~! …Ah, by the way, you’ll have to wait to hear me sing until the actual performance day~

*Rustle*

Reiji and Carla start playing the violin.

Shuu: They’re not bad…

Ruki: No, wait…Take a look at Carla.

Carla: Haah…

Ayato: Haah?

Kou: Eh!? The bow’s moving by itself…!? Could it be…?

Ruki: It’s magic! He’s using his magic to play the violin…!

Shuu: Haah…

Carla: Phew…There you go, I did not even break a sweat.

Reiji: Hahaha…First place is as good as ours. …Right? Hey, you!

*Bzz bzzt*

Reiji: …!? E-Excuse me!?

Carla: Do you have a problem with our performance!?

Kou: I mean, you can hardly blame her. Any normal person would be in shock after seeing that performance from earlier.

Reiji: …! Carla! This would not be an issue if you would simply use your hands as you play!

Carla: T-That’s…

Reiji: Hm? Don’t tell me…You cannot?

Carla: …!!

Shuu: Fufu…Hilarious.

Ayato: This competition is ours!

You point out that they have yet to play.

Ayato: …Ah? I mean, sure, we haven’t performed yet, but it’s so obvious.

Ruki: I mean, why not give them a listen?

Shuu: Haah…It’s a drag but I guess we have no other choice. I’m sure they’ll admit defeat after hearing us play.

*Rustle*

Shuu: Anyway, for now, we’ll let you hear the violin part. Let’s go.

Shuu and Ruki start playing.

Carla & Reiji: …!!

Ayato: Hehe! How’s that? Pissin’ your pants?

Kou: Both of them are actually using their hands to play! I had no idea Ruki-kun was gifted at the violin!

Reiji: …!! …This is rather infuriating.

False notes start mixing in.

Reiji: Hm? …T-This is…!!

Carla: What is going on…!?

Kou: Aah! Ow! What a horrible noise…Stop! Time out!!

Shuu: …!! Oi, Ruki! What was that just now!?

Ruki: What do you mean? I played the violin.

Kou: We know that! You started off great but then it all went downhill halfway through!?

Ruki: Ah, about that. Oh well, do not let that bother you.

Reiji: How are we supposed to do that!?

Ruki: It’s the first few notes which truly matter. In short, as long as I can make a good first impression, the tone has already been set for an amazing piece.

Shuu: Haah…In other words, you can only play well for a couple of seconds?

Carla: Hahaha! I guess that means we have won.

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! What’s the verdict of this competition?

You frown.

Kou: I’m pretty sure both groups had issues of our own? …But I doubt these guys will let this pass without there being a clear winner.

The other guys act competitive towards each other.

Kou: Hm? What was that? We should wait for a winner to be declared until the day of the actual competition? Makes sense. It’s not like there’s any point in fighting over it right now.

Shuu: Oi, Ruki. I expect you to master the rest of the score by then.

Reiji: Carla! You should learn to play with your hands as well! Come on, start practicing at once!

Ayato: …Seems like those two got stuck in between Shuu and Reiji’s personal conflict.

Kou: Oh well, whatever. All that matters is that we get our hands on those ten million yen by winning both first and second prize! We better give it our best shot.

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki: ( ーー And so, we continued to practice playing the violin from dusk till dawn for days on end. )

Carla: ( It was more challenging and daunting than any task I had faced in the past. )

Reiji: ( All I want is to surpass Shuu’s team! )

Shuu: ( I became more serious about honing my violin skills than ever before, all for the sake of that gramophone. )

Ayato: ( Even I - who wasn’t too thrilled about the whole idea at first - got very serious about the competition. )

Kou: ( Everyone held tightly onto their violin’’s bow, as the moment of truth arrivedーー )

*Rustle*

Ruki: …Ridiculous! Can someone please explain this to me!?

Kou: R-Ruki-kun, calm down…

Ruki: How am I supposed to keep calm in a situation like this!?

Shuu: Unbelievable…

Reiji: You! I am fairly sure I told you to submit our application in time so how has this happened?

You explain.

Reiji: Haah…I was a fool for entrusting you with this task. ーー Well, all of us know how to properly play now, so let us put those skills to good use at the next given opportunity, I suppose. …Right, Carla?

Carla: …W-Wha…?

Ayato: Oi, do you also smell trouble?

Kou: Yeah, you’re right…

Ayato: Let’s dip before it’s too late!

Kou: Good idea…

Ayato and Kou sneak away.

Carla: Haha…Hahaha…

Reiji: Good grief…Laughter is the only thing coming out of him.

Carla: Ahahaha…!

Shuu & Ruki: …!?

Carla: You bastards…!!

*WOOSH*

Reiji: …Carla!? R-Relax! Everyone makes mistakes! Let us remain calm and talk it out!

*BOOM*

Carla: My Iberico serranoーーーー!!

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 一千万 or ‘issenman’ is 10.000.000 or ten million yen, when converted to dollar, it would be around ten thousand dollars.

(2) Shuu calls him 化石男 or ‘kaseki otoko’ which literally means ‘fossil guy’.

(3) There’s one third instrument he mentions but I could not find what it is for the life of me. To me it sounds like he’s saying ‘zunzun’ or ‘zunzu’ but I couldn’t find any African instruments with that name.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #carla tsukinami

216 notes · View notes

justabigassnerd · 1 month

Text

y’all imma say it because no one else will…

so many dog owners in this day and age are SO entitled.

I’m at work and this guy came to the door with his dog, stuck his head in and asked if dogs were allowed and both me and the manager were like ‘no sorry’ and this man who was probably older than me and my manager combined had to utter a comment of ‘well it’s not like you’re selling food in here’

firstly we do sell food products. we sell sweets and chocolate. secondly there’s a whole ass sign that has a no dog symbol on it

99% of the time I tell someone who’s snuck into the shop with a dog that they can’t have their dog in the shop they’re so quick to be like ‘well they’ve been in here before’ like bro calm down. also we’re having to crack down on dogs in the shop because a dog pissed on and ruined a bunch of our stock.

it’s just so frustrating that I get treated like shit or am on the receiving end of sarcastic comments when all I’m doing is enforcing the rules (also just read the fucking sign)

this is not to say every dog owner that’s like this, some are actually lovely and remove their dog from the shop when told or just have them wait outside with a friend/family member while they shop. it’s just a large chunk of people nowadays clearly think their dog has the same rights as a human

anyway work rant over ✌🏻

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd rambles #justabigassnerd rants

12 notes · View notes

backyardentomologist · 10 months

Note

What is the most deadly insect and why?

By ‘most deadly,’ I’m going to assume you mean ‘most deadly to humans.’ To my knowledge, most insect’s just aren’t super dangerous.

Sure, many are capable of delivering painful stings, but 99% of the time, the stings are just that: painful. They hurt for a while, maybe cause some swelling, but otherwise are pretty harmless. (If you’re allergic to insect stings, however, then a bee sting can be SUPER dangerous). Insects sting not to kill, but to send a message: “leave me and/or my nest alone, and you won’t get hurt.”

Other insects are extremely poisonous, but again: they’re not very dangerous unless you eat them. Monarch butterflies are very poisonous, but they won’t cause you major harm unless you eat a ton of them at once, and if you’ve been running around shoveling butterflies into your mouth I think you have bigger issues.

Ultimately, the most dangerous insects are the ones that can give you diseases. Like mosquitoes. Dengue fever, West Nile Virus, malaria.. the list goes on. But out of the 200 species found in North America, only about 12 of them are actually vectors of illness. The rest? They just want your blood.

#entomology #insects #bugs #bugblr #insect #mosquito

38 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 6 months

Text

Pretty Lies

Pairing: Victor Vale x EO!fem!reader

Summary: As you die, you wish to know to truth: about what your life meant, what happens after death, everything. When you come back, you know when people are lying and when they’re telling the truth. You are a human lie detector, who Victor Vale decides to use to his advantage.

Word Count: 4.8k+ words

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and death (reader is an EO), spoilers for Vicious and Vengeful, takes place after Vengeful but ignores something that happens, EMT codes and medical terminology, OC villains, angst, canon-typical violence, fluff, Victor is Dol's biggest fan. I think that's all?

A/N: I'm desperately searching for an actor/model/anyone that matches my mental image of Victor to make gifs. As I said in the warnings, this takes place after Vengeful but doesn't reference something that Victor does/experiences because I didn't think it was necessary (and it made me sad reading it tbh). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think!🖤

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)

Your heart rate slows to a crawl as your mind races, and questions form in your cerebrum faster than you can process any answers. Asking yourself these questions, you don’t register the sharp pain in your chest or the shortness of your breath.

Why? What was the purpose? What happens next? Did I make an impact?

The last thing you hear before the questions stop is, “Check for pulsus paradoxus; blood pressure unstable! Code 99: W, 902H… 914C, DOA.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As your hearing returns, a steady beeping causes your head to pound. Opening your eyes slowly, you realize you’re in a hospital room.

“Welcome back,” a nurse says as she walks in. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” you respond.

“I’ll call the doctor.”

She walks out, and you feel a strange flinching sensation in your right wrist.

“Hello,” the doctor says, introducing himself as he looks at your vitals. “You’re making quite the recovery.”

Another flinch.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

“Umm, I was in an accident,” you answer.

“Yes, you had a fairly severe case of cardiac tamponade; blood gathered around your heart and the pressure caused some problems.”

“My heart stopped?”

The doctor nods. “We performed a thoracotomy, cleared the liquid and brought you back.”

Your wrist flinches again, and you look down, feeling the sensation but seeing no evidence you’re moving.

“There were no complications,” the doctor adds.

Your wrist feels like it contracts quickly, and before you think about it, you say, “That’s not true.”

The doctor swallows, checking your chart and avoiding eye contact as he admits, “The injury that caused the tamponade is fairly hard to correct, at least permanently.”

“You’re saying it could happen again?”

“Yes.”

Flinch. Truth.

“I would encourage you to get a service dog trained to your symptoms and get your heart checked regularly. It may come back, but considering how quickly you recovered, I consider it unlikely.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Of course. I’ll be in a few more times today, but you should be ready for discharge soon,” he says as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“That was true,” you mutter, looking down at your wrist.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How could you possibly know that?” Sydney asks, spinning her cocoa cup as she sits across from Victor.

“Your brain, the medial temporal lobe and the medial and lateral prefrontal cortexes, makes false memories, Syd,” Victor answers, not looking up from his paper.

“But why?”

“That’s a question for a psych major. I was pre-med,” Victor deadpans.

“If the brain makes different memories, though, why do we think some of the false ones are real?”

“Trauma responses?” Victor suggests, sighing as he looks up. “I really don’t know. Deep inside your brain, you know which ones are true, unless you somehow convince yourself which ones are false.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the hospital, you hear as many lies as you do truths.

“You’re going to be fine,” someone promises. Lie.

“There isn’t much we can do.” Truth.

“The bathroom is down the hall.” Lie. You look over and see a young boy laugh as another child walks in the opposite direction.

Speeding up, you decide to go somewhere you hopefully won’t hear anyone. While you walk down the street, you see a small coffee shop off by itself. You walk inside and take a deep breath at the lack of people. Only five or six customers occupy the cafe, and only two don't have their noses buried in computer screens. You order a drink and sit in the back corner, lying your head on the table as you enjoy the quiet.

When you pick your head up to take a drink, you feel a weird sense of pain, less painful than nudging, like it’s directing your attention away from something. Even stranger, the pain isn’t real. Turning toward the sensation, you notice a pale man wearing the black clothes and the blonde girl sitting across from him. They could be siblings, but that doesn’t feel true. The girl looks over at you, her eyebrows raising when she sees you looking. She taps the man with her foot, and he glances up before following her gaze, his eyes locking on yours.

“Can we help you?” he asks, his eyes narrowed as the nudging sensation strengthens slightly.

“No, sorry. I, uh, I thought you were someone else,” you apologize as you turn back to your drink.

“Remember what I said,” the man whispers, sounding much kinder than when he spoke to you.

You ignore them until they leave, but as soon as the man is out of sight of the coffee shop, the patrons begin whispering to one another, truths and lies floating through the air as new life enters the atmosphere. The distraction of pain is gone, too, and you jump out of your seat to follow the man in black.

“Hey!” you yell as you catch up.

He turns around, pushing the girl behind him as he sticks a hand under his jacket.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Was that you? The pain that kept everyone from looking at you?” you ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you still have the wrong guy.”

You shake your head as your wrist flinches, barely noticeable, but enough to be sure he’s lying.

“That’s not true.” The girl pokes her head out, and you look at her to ask, “Can you do something, too?”

“No,” she whispers.

“That’s another lie.”

“Look,” he begins, raising a hand toward you.

“No, no, you look. I died yesterday, but now I’m a walking lie detector. So if you can do something too you have to help me,” you ramble, dropping your shoulders as you add, “Please.”

“You know when people are lying?” he asks.

You nod, and he looks at the girl, gesturing his head toward you.

“My name’s Sydney,” she says, standing straight as she steps beside her protector.

You nod and introduce yourself, tapping your hand on your thigh rather than shaking Sydney's hand. Her protector doesn’t seem like he would appreciate the sudden movement.

“This is Frank,” Sydney says.

Shaking your head, you look over at him.

“Lie?”

“Lie.”

“My name’s Victor,” he corrects, extending his hand.

You shake it, scrunching your nose in pain, your chest tightening much like it did yesterday.

“You died very recently,” Victor says. “I can control pain, obviously.”

“What can you do?” you ask Sydney.

“Doesn’t matter,” Victor interjects, looking at Sydney as she steps behind him again. “What kind of help do you want?”

“I’d like to know why I am a human polygraph test now,” you answer with a weak chuckle.

Victor looks around and sighs. “Come with us. Syd, call Mitch and tell him we have company.”

You thank Victor quietly and walk behind him, watching people turn away from him as the same nudging that pulls you to him pushes them away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Okay,” Victor says, looking at Mitch’s computer. “This says you were gone for nearly two minutes. You were on the brink of brain damage.”

“What caused the bleeding around your heart?” Mitch asks.

“An accident. I don’t remember many details, though,” you answer, fiddling your fingers in your lap.

“What were you thinking about when you died?” Victor asks.

“Umm, there were a lot of questions. Like what would happen after I died and what everything meant. That’s all I remember thinking.”

“Have you heard of the theory of EOs?”

“ExtraOrdinary?” you clarify. “Just what I’ve seen in the papers. The masked vigilante that got arrested? Uh, something Ever, I think.”

Victor clenches his jaw as he nods. “Yeah, he was an EO. Just like me, Sydney, and you.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“EOs are, in the most basic sense, people who died and came back with something extraordinary,” Victor explains. “Unfortunately, something is also missing when we come back.”

“You’re saying that this power, whatever, is because I died? I have to live with this forever?”

“Yes. But, I have an idea, if you’re willing to help.”

“Help how?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is the new EON facility?” Victor growls, wiping a knife on his sleeve as he circles the chair.

“I don’t know!” the man in the chair cries.

You lock eyes with Victor and shake your head; another lie.

“See, you do know and you’re just not willing to share. That’s not very nice,” Victor says, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees to look into the man’s eyes. “Tell me where it is and the pain goes away.”

“You’ll never find it!”

You shrug when Victor looks up at you; it’s not an answer, so it’s relatively true and false at the same time. Schrödinger’s answer.

“Do you want to meet my friend?” Victor asks, a small smile on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Victor walks around the man, leaving him thrashing against the restraints. When Victor reaches you, he looks into your eyes as he speaks.

“Seeing you, knowing that you can tell what’s true and false will make him more aware of how serious this is,” Victor explains. “Are you up to this?”

You nod and follow Victor, similarly dressed in black to hide in the shadows.

“Why don’t you tell her what you told me?” Victor begins. “Where is the EON facility?”

“I don’t know,” the man repeats, staring at you.

“That’s a lie,” you state, setting your hands on Victor’s table of knives as you lean back against it. “Why don’t you tell me something true? No one ever tells the truth anymore.”

“Probably because you’re going to kill them regardless!”

“Is that what he told you?” you ask, cocking your head as you glance at Victor. “No, no, you tell us the truth and we leave. We don’t need you, we just need your information.”

“I’m taking it to the grave.”

“Now that’s true,” you say, smiling. “What about your name? What’s your name?”

“Bradley,” he mumbles.

Victor returns to your side, spinning a knife as he leans against the table beside you.

“In the mood for sharing now?” he asks.

“Not with you,” Bradley snaps.

“Oh, I see. Pretty girl is worthy of the answers, not me. I get it.” He places a hand on Bradley’s shoulder, stooping to whisper in his ear as he walks out. “I think for a moment she is in danger and you will experience pain beyond what you can imagine. Understand?”

Bradley nods as your wrist flinches. Whatever Victor said was true.

“Why are you willing to share with me, Bradley?” you ask once alone. He shrugs, and you ask, “Where is EON?”

“I don’t have an address.” Truth. “All I ever heard was that it is in a building once owned by the government. Somewhere north of town where there’s not much traffic.” Another truth.

“Do you have any idea which building it could be? Or which agency owned it?”

“No.” You tilt your head toward him, and he sighs before asking for paper and a pen. “Just this one,” he says as he writes an address.

“Thank you,” you say as you slip the paper into your pocket.

“What happens now?” Bradley asks.

“We all move on,” you say, smiling at him before walking out.

Your wrist doesn’t contract when you lie, but you and Bradley know that isn’t true.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good work,” Victor says as he emerges from the building, wiping his hands on his coat.

“Thanks. He gave me this address, but he’s not sure if it is the correct building. All he could say for sure was that the building is somewhere north of town, no traffic around it, and that it used to be owned by the government,” you explain as you walk beside Victor.

Victor nods and takes the paper from you, reading the address before putting it in his pocket. “It’s probably the right place; there aren’t many abandoned government buildings around here. How’d you get him to talk to you?”

“People are less inclined to lie when they know they can’t get away with it,” you answer. “And I’m pretty sure he was just scared of you.”

Victor nods, keeping his eyes on something ahead of you as he shifts you to stand on his other side.

“Would you have killed him if I wasn’t there?” you ask quietly.

“No. I needed the information, I would have found another way to get it,” he answers after taking a few steps in silence.

Your wrist flinches as you round the corner, Dol greeting you at the door.

“Mitch, we got an address,” Victor says, passing the paper to Mitch. “I need the property records and a list of previous owners.”

Mitch nods and begins typing as Dol rubs his head against your thigh.

“Sydney, does he need a walk?” you ask, laying a hand on Dol’s head.

“No, I took him out this morning,” she answers.

“Can I take him anyways? He seems antsy.”

“Sure,” Sydney answers, smiling at you. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, keep doing whatever it is you do.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, laughing as you return the sentiment while clipping Dol’s leash to his collar. You wave to Victor as you open the door, waiting for him to nod before you leave. Dol leads you down the street, stopping to sniff occasionally before stopping in front of the coffee shop where you met Victor. He growls lowly as his shackles rise, and you look around but don’t see anyone or anything that would cause him to act so differently.

“Dol, what’s up, buddy?” you ask quietly, setting your hand on his back.

He barks in response before pulling you to the corner. When the hospital comes into view, his growling gets louder as he looks between you and the building. You see someone walk out of the hospital with a hood over their head; they stop walking suddenly, and the hood snaps up in your direction like they’re looking at you.

“Dol, run,” you whisper, dropping his leash as you both turn and run toward the door you left just a few minutes ago.

Dol is a few steps ahead when a hand leaps out of an alley and pulls you into the darkness.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor rolls his eyes when he hears Dol’s incessant barking at the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you to take a key?” he asks as he opens the door, freezing when he sees Dol is alone. He leans down and picks up Dol’s leash, looking into his eyes as he asks, “Where is she?”

Dol doesn’t answer, obviously, but looks behind him, the direction he came from.

“Sydney, did she say where she was going?” Victor asks, closing the door as he pulls Dol inside.

“No, she just offered to take him for a walk. This is bad isn’t it?” she responds, grabbing Dol’s neck as he sits at her side.

“Sydney, remember the promise?”

“No one will hurt me because you’ll hurt them first. Yeah, I remember.”

“I made the same promise to her. I’m going to find her. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, tell Mitch to get you and Dol out of here.”

“We’re not leaving you!”

“And I’m not dragging you down with me,” Victor promises as he walks out the door, his black coat trailing behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tell him to stop looking for EON,” the hooded figure says, its hand around your neck as you’re pushed against the brick wall in the alley.

“Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, panting as you struggle to breathe.

“You do know! Maybe you can tell when other people are lying, but you’re not a very good liar yourself, are you? How many lies have you let him tell you because you think you’re helping. He killed my brother and now I will kill him.”

You feel a flinch signifying the truth of his statement as you ask, “Why?”

“He’s not good. EON is doing good. Until EOs can be understood, they can’t be trusted. Surely you understand how important trust is.”

The pressure is taken off your neck, and you cough before saying, “Torturing people doesn’t build trust.”

“Is that what he said we do? Victor is many things, and a good liar tops the list.”

“He’s not a liar. You are.”

“Really?” A dark chuckle proceeds the demand, “Ask me to lie.”

“Why?” you ask.

“I am not going to kill you.”

Lie.

“I only want to kill Victor.”

Lie.

“What about… I only want to kill Victor first.”

Truth.

You look up but can’t see anything past the hood. “Why are you doing this?”

“EOs aren’t trustworthy until they prove it. Show where your allegiance lies and maybe I will let you live.”

“You know where my allegiance lies: with the truth, and you will kill me no matter what I do.”

“That’s not true.”

It’s not, you know that, but you trust Victor. Or at least you think you do.

“Trick him into lying and see what your detector says. I’ll give you some time to reconsider.”

You blink, and the hooded figure is gone. Rubbing your neck, you stumble out of the alley and into someone’s arms.

“What happened?” Victor demands.

“Did you kill someone?” you ask, gripping his biceps.

“No. What are you talking about?”

Truth. But you know differently. You release his arms and try to back away from him, but he drops his hands to your waist and holds you firm.

“Let go,” you demand.

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“There’s people here, Victor.”

“They’re not paying attention to us. Talk.”

You look around and see that no one is looking at you. As usual, no one notices Victor.

“Why do you push people away?”

“To keep the people close to me safe,” he answers.

Truth.

“And why did you let me join you, help you, whatever it is you call my role here?”

“Because I thought your ability would be helpful. And I knew EON was back and wanted to help keep you safe.”

Two truths.

“Fine. Did Dol come back?”

Victor nods and releases you, watching as you walk past him. He clenches his jaw before dialing a random person’s pain up as he follows.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Victor asks, letting himself into your assigned bedroom.

You’re sitting on your bed in the dark, staring out the window as you respond, “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re lying to me.”

Victor sighs as his leg hits your bed, jostling the mattress slightly as he stands behind you.

“About what?” he asks.

You turn around to face him, looking up into the dark, barely able to make out his face, as you say, “Lie to me.”

“Tell me what happened,” he demands again.

You shake your head and lean back.

“Why is this so important? Don’t you trust me?”

“I did. And I want to. But you’re not making it easy right now.”

Victor sighs and runs his fingers through his pale hair before kneeling by your bed, looking up into your eyes as he offers, “If I lie to you will you tell me what happened?”

You nod as you lean forward, closing some of the distance between you. “But talk to me like you normally talk to me, don’t tell me something that is obviously a lie.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” he says.

Truth.

“How do you do that?” you whisper. “I know you’re lying but my body still tells me it’s true.”

“Have I ever triggered a lie response?”

“Once. When we first met you said you didn’t know what I was talking about and that I had the wrong guy. But everything since then has been true, or so I thought.”

“My turn,” Victor says, cutting you off as he stands. “Tell me what happened in that alley.”

You take a deep breath and scoot back, allowing Victor to perch on the edge of the bed. “I was walking Dol and he stopped suddenly and started growling. His shackles raised, too. We were in front of a coffee shop, the one where you and I met.” You look down at your lap as you try to remember every detail of what happened next. “Then he led me to the corner, where you can see the hospital, and someone in a hood came out and looked toward us. I let go of Dol’s leash while we ran but I got pulled into an alley.”

“By the hooded… figure?” Victor asks.

You nod and continue, “Whoever, or whatever it was, told me to tell you to stop looking for EON. They knew your name, too, and said that I let you lie to me because I thought I was doing good.”

“What else did they say about EON?”

“That they were building trust with EOs, that until they could be understood they couldn’t be trusted.”

“Anything else? Did you see or hear anything that could tell us more?”

“They said they want to kill you.” You pick at the comforter as you add, “And me, if I don’t reconsider and show my allegiance is with them.”

Victor stands suddenly and turns the light on.

You close your eyes tightly at the sudden brightness before asking, “What are you doing?”

He places a finger under your chin, raising your face toward him as he looks at your neck. His jaw clenches before he pulls his hand away.

“What?” you repeat.

“You didn’t say they touched you.”

“Obviously they touched me, Victor, they’re bad- wait, you killed the brother,” you say, remembering what else the hooded person said about Victor. “They said, ‘He killed my brother and now I will kill him.’”

“Bradley,” you and Victor say together.

“You lied to me,” you accuse quietly.

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“How do I know you’re not still lying?”

“Because I can lie to you, I just also know how to manipulate the truth. Yes, I killed Bradley.”

Truth.

“And I killed my friend Angie, and I killed several other people.”

Truth.

“And I will kill you if I have to.”

Lie.

You look into Victor’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “I can lie to you and get away with it, but only if I think it’s protecting you. I don’t know why it works. Maybe it’s just because I care about you.”

Truth.

“We need to find Bradley’s brother,” you say, standing and following Victor down the hall. “Victor.” You grab his arm to stop him, facing each other in the dark as you whisper, “I care about you too. Thank you for telling me the truth… and for lying to me.”

Victor smiles, just a flash in the darkness, before pulling you into the living room and opening Mitch’s laptop.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You reconsidered?”

“I did… Jake. But I didn’t change my mind,” you answer, crossing your arms as Victor walks in behind you, a shadow visible for only a second as he melts into the darkness.

“I will avenge my brother,” Jake vows as he removes his hood.

“Dying at the hands of your brother-in-law must have been embarrassing,” Victor taunts from the dark. “I can’t imagine what kind of power you received to deal with something like that.”

“Come out and see,” Jake calls.

“I actually do most of the bidding,” you interject with a smile. “Easier to determine who’s worth the time when you know if they’re lying.”

“And is he lying to you?”

“He was. You were right.”

“Then why are you still helping him?”

“Because you lied too.” You stick your hands in your coat pocket as you walk toward Jake. “EON does torture EOs, and when they get tired of the EOs or deem their powers useless, they kill them. That’s not building trust, that’s genocide.”

“And your little shadow boyfriend killing everyone he can get his hands on isn’t?”

“He doesn’t kill everyone,” you argue. “But tell me, have you ever killed anyone?”

“Of course not, I’m not a monster.”

“Oh,” you sigh, clicking your tongue. “See, the bad thing about a half-truth, is it’s also a half-lie. Killing your wife accidentally is still killing your wife, Jake.”

Jake lunges toward you before Victor drops him, creating enough pain that he curls in on himself. You step over him, looking toward Victor as you continue talking.

“One more question. What did Haverty promise you before he died?”

Victor eases the pain, his eyes on Jake as he stands and turns to you.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie, Jake. We feel the same way about lies, don’t you think? Be considerate and tell me the truth or you’ll learn just how convincing Victor’s power can be.”

“Doesn’t old Victor back there have to see someone to use his power?” Jake asks, smirking at you.

“I see you talked to Eli,” Victor calls. “What Eli wasn’t around to find out is that once the initial connection is made, the power works a little differently.”

“Just tell us what we need to know, Jake, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

“Or you could just make yourself invisible because that’s how you feel, right?” Victor taunts.

Jake rushes into the shadows, and you look down at your wrist as you tap the heel of one shoe against the toe of the other. Victor emerges a moment later, dragging a nearly unconscious, half-invisible Jake back to you.

You squat beside him and whisper, “I really am sorry about Bradley, I know what it’s like to lose someone. But you were going to lose him anyway. Just tell us what Haverty promised you and who you were working with.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake groans.

Truth. You look up at Victor with wide eyes.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” you ask.

“She’s dead. And everything I earned is gone.”

“Marcella?” Victor asks.

Jake nods, and Victor gestures for you to stand beside him.

“Run, Jake, and stay away from EON,” Victor says.

You watch as Jake disappears.

“Is this fight ever going to end?” you ask.

“Not likely,” Victor answers.

“Who killed Marcella?”

“Eli.”

“And then you killed him?”

“Yes.”

“Victor,” you say, drawing his eyes to yours. You smile and say, “No, you didn’t.”

Victor opens his mouth to argue, but you turn and walk away, calling, “Sydney is a better sharer than you.”

Victor rolls his eyes before catching up with you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ll never figure all of them out,” Victor says, dragging a Sharpie across the first page of his parents’ newest book.

“Sydney, help me out?” you ask.

“Dol, don’t let Sydney help,” Victor adds.

“Okay, so saying you’d kill me is a lie,” you muse aloud.

“You said you’d kill her?” Mitch asks, looking up from his computer.

“She told me to lie,” Victor answers with a shrug.

“Someone else tell me something,” you request, turning away from Victor.

“Dol is ugly!” Sydney says, complying with your request.

“Don’t listen, buddy, you’re the most handsome guy here,” Victor whispers, setting the marker aside to pat Dol’s head.

“Obviously a lie, c’mon, Syd,” you chide playfully.

“Dol likes Vic just as much as he likes Sydney,” Mitch adds.

“That… you think it’s true, at least,” you determine.

“And why wouldn’t you?” Victor asks Dol. “We’re both amazing, aren’t we?”

“Try to trick me,” you demand.

Sydney says something, but your wrist flinches before she finishes, the sound of Victor’s marker drowning her out. The same as when he whispered to Bradley. You turn to face him, and he raises his eyebrows as you take his marker.

“Did you just say something?” you ask.

He shrugs and looks back to the page. You glance down and find the few words still visible:

“What did you tell Bradley when you left me alone with him?” you whisper.

“That I’d hurt him if I thought you were in danger.”

“And what did you say just now?”

“You read it.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I meant them both, and I still do. I won’t let anyone hurt you because I’ll hurt them first. I let you stay because I care about you but it grew from there.”

“Finally,” Sydney says behind you.

Your wrist flinches as Victor rolls his eyes at her.

“You love me? I love you.”

Victor smiles. Not the smile he smiles before he lies, but a genuine smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“Good indeed, now stop making us uncomfortable,” Mitch says as he sits beside Sydney.

Dol barks as Sydney argues that you and Victor are cute together.

Your wrist flinches with every comment, especially when Victor whispers, “I’ve loved you since you accused me of lying the first time we met. Even though you lied to me, too.”

#victor vale x reader #victor vale #vicious ve schwab #vicious #fem!reader

21 notes · View notes