per aspera ad astra

musician OC RP blog // public // picky

[sociopathichero]

Danila, Slade & Juno (The inspo)

Miksi kohtelet kaltoin elämääni mun Vaikka kaikkeni annoin edessäsi sun? Tulee ruoskaa, tulee ruoskaa Ja kipu kiihottaa

[slaed]

lore-accurate and amazing 🖤

[organmeatsoup-deactivated202505]

leaving a suicide note that just says “it is what it is”

[slaed]

Slade plops down on the chair and grabs a slice of now-meatless pizza. He can still smell the salami on it; he’ll be able to taste it, too, but it’s not a big deal.

The slice disappears in an instant, like a small animal into a hungry pelican’s beak. He wasn’t born with a mouth that big for nothing.

“I am, in fact, not,” Slade agrees after he’s done chewing — that takes surprisingly little time. “Why? Changed your mind?”

He doesn’t give Danila any chance to answer.

“May I ask you a question?” Slade asks slowly, as if he is being very careful and deliberate about his choice of words. He looks Danila in the eye and squints suspiciously. “You might not like it though.”

[sociopathichero]

Unlike Slade, Danila wasn't in a hurry to finish his slice; his appetite was barely hanging around while he was driving himself crazy with all the worrying.

Except his worries didn't seem to be completely unwarranted.

He changed his position on the table corner as Slade's words filled him with nervous energy. It didn't improve his comfort, but then again, table corners weren't known for their good ergonomics.

How worried should he be when even Slade thought he might not like the question?

"Okay. Ask." Whether he'd answer the question—whatever it would be—was another story.

[slaed]

Slade holds a dramatic pause and finally delivers:

"Do you ever find it extremely weird how we, as humanity, have normalized eating animals? Our ancestors looked at some cute fuzzy critter and were like, 'Let's kill it, tear it apart and feast on its muscles and fat! Let's pull its guts out and stuff 'em with its own dead flesh to make the most phallic food imaginable! HELL YEAH!!!'"

He spreads his arms wide open, nearly swiping the pizza off the table and looking a little too committed to the bit.

"I don't mean to judge, by the way," Slade clarifies, adopting a less.. excited expression. "I'm not vegan myself. I eat cheese and eggs and— did you know that eggs are chicken periods?"

Technically they aren't. Chicken aren't mammals but that's not the point. A sudden intrusive thought crosses his mind and before Slade can restrain it, he blurts out, "Do you know what a period is?"

The question was a tad more nuanced in his head. He was wondering whether Danila knew the English word for it; ever had the need to learn it. But he said what he said.

[killxbunnyyy]

born to be a lover, forced to master detachment

[sociopathichero]

The Doommates

slaed:

Slade is not particularly happy to see the overnight bruise progress on Danila’s face. He is not particularly happy to see Danila’s face or the rest of him to begin with. However, he will contain himself while the landlady is around. Who does this asshole think he is? Look at him playing martyr to make himself look better! The disgust on Slade’s face is not-at-all subtle. Well, his patience did not last long. Danila is definitely, completely at fault, but the way he is lying about is just makes Slade’s blood boil. There is just something about his new roommate; he is ridiculously easy to hate. Slade will also conveniently ignore the fact that he has been in foul spirits as of late and thus especially irritable. Before Mrs Higgins turns to leave, her gaze, strange and pensive, travels down and shifts from Slade’s right to his left. Slade fights back an instinctive urge to fold his hands in front of his crotch until he realizes she is checking his knuckles for scrapes or bruises. This makes him feel a little sick (but less uncomfortable than the thought of an old lady checking The Legend out), though yesterday’s beer might be the main culprit. As if I would risk any damage to my hands just to deck this miserable piece of shit! That and he finds physical violence abhorrent — hell, he still feels bad about knocking Gerard out and the fucker deserved every single splinter in his bald head — but this is of secondary concern. Slade mutters a goodbye and heads for the kitchen. He will graciously allow Danila to close the door behind Mrs Higgins and start getting things back in order, or do whatever he decides as long as he stays out of sight. The fridge greets him with an army of beer bottles and nothing else. Slade does not know what happens to the peas his roommate was misusing last night, nor does he care to find out or check the freezer — he cannot imagine wanting anything in there. The prospect of grocery shopping makes him groan out loud, but he has been putting it off for way too long as it is. Slade goes back to his room to put a pair of jeans on and grab his wallet and.. Car keys! Shit! Last he saw them was on a shelf by the corridor mirror. Last he saw the shelf, it had been torn off the wall and lost somewhere among the multiple pairs of boots on the floor. He storms out of his room to begin search and rescue, caring little for whether his efforts got in Danila’s way or not.

Danila followed Mrs. Higgins’ gaze and only then realized how the whole situation might seem to her. If she had seen them interact even for five minutes, the two of them taking it up a notch was a fair concern. He stayed still and silent as she seemed to not-so-subtly check that he wasn’t lying. What a wonderful way to start the day, feeling like being stuck in an X-ray machine. What was it with old ladies and their all-seeing eyes?

Mrs. Higgins seemed to finally be satisfied. Danila hurried to close the door behind her, mumbling a polite goodbye as he did so. Onto the clean-up, then.

The hall looked like a small bomb filled with wood had gone off. It would take the better part of the day to make it look presentable again, especially since Slade clearly wasn't planning on helping. He would have loved to drag Slade back and force him to help, but he didn't have the time or energy for that. Mrs. Higgins expected results for the next day, after all.

Danila did what looked like a silly little dance as he tried to find the least painful way to pick up the remnants of the chair from the floor. The differences were negligible, so he settled for the "do it despite the pain, or risk ending up homeless" method.

Continued from here. @slaed

[slaed]

There's too much stuff on the floor. Everything seems to be falling out if his hands. He's tripped over the same pair of boots twice already. Danila keeps getting in his way doing.. whatever he is doing. The way he's doing it is making Slade's blood pressure rise.

"Could you be any more—" He finally looks directly at his roommate. A big mistake. The man looks pitiful. Pathetic. Absolutely anger-inducing. "Nevermind."

Slade grabs the fallen shelf to move it out of his way which must have activated some kind of vintage self-destruction mechanism. The thing shatters into flinders, passes onto the furniture afterlife in a shower of splinters and a thick cloud of dust.

The ten to fifteen seconds Slade spends battling himself feel like an eternity. He is standing absolutely still, his pretty face contorted into a deranged expression of unbridled rage. He thinks about his mother, about countless angry men, about alcohol withdrawals, about what he looks like when he's mad. He takes a deep breath as he's been taught and.. immediately goes into a long coughing fit.

The dust is still swirling in the air when Slade lies down on the floor among the rubble, defeated. On his way down he sees his car keys under Danila's foot. He stares at the ceiling and contemplates the meaninglessness of existence.

"Hey.. Danila? Wanna go get groceries with me?" His spirit is gone, but his body must go on. And it demands nutrients. "I'll help you clean afterwards."

[slaed]

The ride continues, uneventful other than Slade throwing his empty plastic bottle into the gap between Danila's seat and the window.

The winding road finally leads them out of the woods. A highway is visible far ahead, blurry with the heat rising from the ground. Before they can reach it, Juno takes an unexpected turn and drives down a barely noticeable dirt road into the opposite direction.

Soon an impressive view unfolds to their right: the ground disappears into a steep rocky ravine green with shrubs and mosses. A tiny ribbon of a spring glistens through the trees at the bottom of its bowels. The metal fencing, the only thing which separates them from a deadly fall, is partially missing and what remains of it has seen better times.

The road widens and flow into an observation point with a particularly scenic view. Were it in a more accessible space, there'd be dozens of people disregarding all the rules of personal safety and taking selfies at the edge of the abyss. As it stands now, not a single car can be seen for miles ahead of or behind them. The asphalt has disintegrated to resemble gravel, and where it it remains, grasses and wildflowers have made their way through the cracks.

Juno stops the jeep and looks at Danila. His face remains cold, impassive.

"I'd like to have a conversation with you." He cracks the door open but makes no move to get out of the car. "Outside."

Slade has long conked out in the backseat with a band-aid over his burn and a blanket over himself.

[sociopathichero]

The hairs on the back of Danila's neck stood up when Juno turned to the near-forgotten trail. He hadn't been in any condition to memorize the route from Slade's humble abode to the hospital, but he was betting it didn't include a dirt road barely wide enough for the jeep.

In any other situation, he would have appreciated the majestic drop. Now the whole place felt ominous in its abandoned state.

"Is this your secret body dumping spot?" The intended sarcasm in his voice fell flat. There would have been plenty of space in Slade's mansion for Juno to do whatever he was planning, completely hidden from prying eyes.

This place felt more and more like his final stop.

"Slade will be upset if you push me down there."

He didn't move. If Juno wanted to have a conversation, he could do it inside the car. And if he wanted him outside for a "conversation", he sure as hell wasn't making the process easier for Juno. Besides, the following ruckus would hopefully wake Slade up. That was his only life insurance.

[slaed]

"It's a nice view." Juno gives the bodyguard a meaningless smile. "That's all there is to it."

He cannot deny the sweet, sweet appeal of keeping Danila in the state of constant fear, but alas. They're technically on the same team. For some inexplicable reason Slade has chosen this man to be a significant part of his.. of their life. Now it's on Juno to figure him out and teach him to behave for however long this is going to last.

At least Danila wasn't stupid enough to immediately get out of the car. Maybe there is some hope.. Juno gives the man a pensive look as he recounts today's events. Probably not.

He pulls the keys out of the ignition.

"Don't try to tell me you care about the emotional well-being of somebody you used as an ashtray."

He leaves the car, unsure whether Danila is going to follow. It doesn't matter. He spent hours on the road today; a little break would be nice.

"If we're going to be working together, you'll have to put more trust in me."

Juno didn't intend for it to sound as ominous as it came out.

[imabiteurankles]

this is literally how i blog on here

[slaed]

"It really is a shame," Slade replies sarcastically. By then he has rolled his sleeve up, stuck his arm out of the window and busied himself with emptying a small bottle of water over the burn. "Otherwise I would've held on tight 'til you were on fire."

In the meantime Juno starts the car. The passenger seatbelt alert goes off. Slowly, Juno turns his head to give Danila a wordless stare of disapproval.

"Look at what this freak has done to me!" Slade complains and sticks his arm out between the front seats. Juno is looking, but not at the circular burn that's getting brighter against the pale skin surrounding it. Unfortunately for Danila, he is, indeed, very protective of Slade. There is some serious willpower involved in not chucking the unwanted passenger out of the car right here and now.

The arm withdraws but not before making an abrupt threatening motion towards the bodyguard's face.

"So, which disciplinary measures would you like me to impose on him?" Juno asks casually as if Danila isn't there. His attention is now on road.

"I dunno. Why are you asking me? Do what you want." Slade has procured a small medkit from the depths of the front seat pocket so the matter of Danila's punishment is, at best, secondary to him. He pulls out a can of burn spray and shakes it. "You can put a cigarette out on his junk for all I care."

The can makes a high-pitched sizzling sound when Slade sprays his forearm.

[sociopathichero]

Oh, so the murder manager was a stickler for road safety? He didn't stop glaring at Juno the whole time he uncurled himself and awkwardly leaned against the backrest, fastening his seatbelt. The beeping stopped.

Freak? Freak? Which one of them put, not one, but two hits on himself because he couldn't keep his suicide a private event? Which one of them then resorted to blackmailing the person who tried to do the right thing and save a life? One of them was a freak alright, but it wasn't Danila.

His hands sprang up to protect his face. By the time his brain had caught up, he flipped Slade off. However, those hands—middle fingers and all—quickly disappeared into his lap at Juno's words. He had misjudged the man. Majorly.

Slade's offhand suggestion had him turning on his seat. "Don't give him ideas!"

Danila spent the rest of the drive glancing at Juno, trying to guess what he was planning. The wait already felt like part of the punishment; while he wasn't looking forward to it, he would much rather have it over and done with.

At least the hospital's food had been good if that's where he was going to end up again.

[slaed]

The ride continues, uneventful other than Slade throwing his empty plastic bottle into the gap between Danila's seat and the window.

The winding road finally leads them out of the woods. A highway is visible far ahead, blurry with the heat rising from the ground. Before they can reach it, Juno takes an unexpected turn and drives down a barely noticeable dirt road into the opposite direction.

Soon an impressive view unfolds to their right: the ground disappears into a steep rocky ravine green with shrubs and mosses. A tiny ribbon of a spring glistens through the trees at the bottom of its bowels. The metal fencing, the only thing which separates them from a deadly fall, is partially missing and what remains of it has seen better times.

The road widens and flow into an observation point with a particularly scenic view. Were it in a more accessible space, there'd be dozens of people disregarding all the rules of personal safety and taking selfies at the edge of the abyss. As it stands now, not a single car can be seen for miles ahead of or behind them. The asphalt has disintegrated to resemble gravel, and where it it remains, grasses and wildflowers have made their way through the cracks.

Juno stops the jeep and looks at Danila. His face remains cold, impassive.

"I'd like to have a conversation with you." He cracks the door open but makes no move to get out of the car. "Outside."

Slade has long conked out in the backseat with a band-aid over his burn and a blanket over himself.

[slaed]

While Danila accordions him flatter and flatter against the door, Slade desperately feels around until he finds the button and swings the door open. Set free, he half-falls half-crawls out and a safe distance away like a grotesque deep-sea crustacean. Before that, he throws back a kick for good measure, but it lands uselessly against Danila's seat.

"What?" Slade scrambles up and dusts himself off. He's swaying just a little, with a confused look on his face, his vision still blurry with rage. And then he gets it. That's what felt so squishy under his knee. A pained shadow of solidarity falls upon his face. "Shit, man, I'm s—"

Then he remembers who he is talking to and immediately changes his tone.

"I'm not sorry at all!" He states angrily albeit not very convincingly. "What kind of a psychopath puts out his cigarette on someone's arm? If I prevented you from breeding, I did this world a huge favor!"

Slade marches back towards the car.

"I hope your dick falls off!" he shouts and slams Danila's door shut only to immediately re-open it without letting go of the handle. "Actually, I hope it doesn't! So I can crush it like a coke can! If you do anything like this to me ever again! I swear to god!"

He shuts the door again, this time for good, and climbs back in to sit behind Danila.

"Let's go!" he orders Juno, who has made it into the driver's seat without any acknowledge of the situation.

"We shall wait until he can fasten his seatbelt."

"No need to," Slade mutters under his breath. "I hope you have to hit the brakes and his head goes right through the windshield. My elbow hurts. What's this burnt smell?"

[sociopathichero]

Danila caught the quick change from apologetic to accusatory. That was as good as a declaration of war.

The colorful threat made him wince. His dick hadn't done anything to Slade, so could he leave it out of this?

He had half-expected Juno to punish him for using Slade's arm as a stubber. Even if he hadn't seen the act, Slade had just made it more than clear what had happened. But interestingly, the punishment never came.

Maybe Juno wasn't as protective as he had thought.

Danila was about to chaff Slade about being the one smelling burnt. Except he could smell it too now, and it wasn't burning flesh (a difference he could unfortunately tell).

Wait... Where did that cigarette land again?

Straightening himself only halfway, Danila pushed the door open and checked the surroundings of his seat. The cigarette was still smoldering on the carpet and had melted a small hole into the fuzzy plastic. He flicked it onto the gravel outside and slammed the door shut.

"There. Shame it wasn't you burning."

[slaed]

"It really is a shame," Slade replies sarcastically. By then he has rolled his sleeve up, stuck his arm out of the window and busied himself with emptying a small bottle of water over the burn. "Otherwise I would've held on tight 'til you were on fire."

In the meantime Juno starts the car. The passenger seatbelt alert goes off. Slowly, Juno turns his head to give Danila a wordless stare of disapproval.

"Look at what this freak has done to me!" Slade complains and sticks his arm out between the front seats. Juno is looking, but not at the circular burn that's getting brighter against the pale skin surrounding it. Unfortunately for Danila, he is, indeed, very protective of Slade. There is some serious willpower involved in not chucking the unwanted passenger out of the car right here and now.

The arm withdraws but not before making an abrupt threatening motion towards the bodyguard's face.

"So, which disciplinary measures would you like me to impose on him?" Juno asks casually as if Danila isn't there. His attention is now on road.

"I dunno. Why are you asking me? Do what you want." Slade has procured a small medkit from the depths of the front seat pocket so the matter of Danila's punishment is, at best, secondary to him. He pulls out a can of burn spray and shakes it. "You can put a cigarette out on his junk for all I care."

The can makes a high-pitched sizzling sound when Slade sprays his forearm.

[sociopathichero]

//Seeing as it's Sunday, this hilariously stupid and chaotic animation meme WIP is my contribution today : D

I heard this song after literal years and remembered that Slade (@slaed <3) has a butt tattoo thanks to Danila, so here I am because I thought it would be hella funny to make... whatever this is. It was supposed to stay as a very rough 10-second sketch thingie. It did not.//

[slaed]

'Of course Juno is wiser, he's like a decade older! Can't you tell?' Slade thinks but doesn't bother to inform Danila who probably can't tell. A lot of people can't, much to Juno's chagrin. The glasses and wearing high-end office getup 24/7 only get one so far.

When Danila grabs his arm it doesn't alarm Slade as much as it ought to. What can the man even do to him within the confines of his own car? Especially with the chair back separating them? Apparently, just enough.

"You fucking bastard," Slade hisses through gritted teeth as the familiar feeling of a lit cigarette against his skin makes him see red. Instead of trying to pull away, he grabs onto Danila's shirt and uses it as leverage to pull himself into the space between the seats. He doesn't say anything else. The enraged expression on his face reflects everything that's on his mind.

A water bottle falls to the floor, a plastic cup crinkles under his knee. Slade holds on tight lest Danila attempts to escape from the car before his mission is complete. What mission? Slade will know once he's face-to-face with this insolent man.

Slade's foot catches on the cup holder and instead of plopping down in Danila's lap gracefully and menacingly, he crashes down in a contorted position with his forearm pressed against the car door window and his face buried in his own sleeve. His other arm flies free, elbow first into the general direction of Danila's head. Worst of all, his bony knee lands exactly in Danila's crotch.

This, of course, has to be the precise moment Juno swings the driver's door open and peers in with the intensity of a husband returned from work early who has just caught his cheating wife in action.

[sociopathichero]

His satisfaction over dishing out almost poetic justice with the weapon Slade himself had supplied was short-lived. Danila had expected him to pull away like any sane man would—that's why he had preemptively grabbed his arm, after all. Instead, the very insane man was running toward danger again. Well, not running exactly. More like worming.

The cigarette disappeared into the black hole between the seat and the door as he tried, to no avail, to pry Slade's grip loose. Danila could swear he heard a faint bonk as the elbow hit him square in the forehead. The knee found its unfortunate destination a second later.

"Move, move!" he wailed as he tried to shove Slade toward any available direction away from his family jewels.

Once he had saved his prospects of continuing the family line, he crumbled into his best attempt at the fetal position while seated in an enclosed space. He was holding his throbbing forehead while it felt like someone had dumped molten lava into his lap.

Only then did it register that Juno was there, witnessing the whole hullabaloo. Frankly, he didn't have the bandwidth to care right now.

"You trying to destroy my unborn children, too, or what?"

[slaed]

While Danila accordions him flatter and flatter against the door, Slade desperately feels around until he finds the button and swings the door open. Set free, he half-falls half-crawls out and a safe distance away like a grotesque deep-sea crustacean. Before that, he throws back a kick for good measure, but it lands uselessly against Danila's seat.

"What?" Slade scrambles up and dusts himself off. He's swaying just a little, with a confused look on his face, his vision still blurry with rage. And then he gets it. That's what felt so squishy under his knee. A pained shadow of solidarity falls upon his face. "Shit, man, I'm s—"

Then he remembers who he is talking to and immediately changes his tone.

"I'm not sorry at all!" He states angrily albeit not very convincingly. "What kind of a psychopath puts out his cigarette on someone's arm? If I prevented you from breeding, I did this world a huge favor!"

Slade marches back towards the car.

"I hope your dick falls off!" he shouts and slams Danila's door shut only to immediately re-open it without letting go of the handle. "Actually, I hope it doesn't! So I can crush it like a coke can! If you do anything like this to me ever again! I swear to god!"

He shuts the door again, this time for good, and climbs back in to sit behind Danila.

"Let's go!" he orders Juno, who has made it into the driver's seat without any acknowledge of the situation.

"We shall wait until he can fasten his seatbelt."

"No need to," Slade mutters under his breath. "I hope you have to hit the brakes and his head goes right through the windshield. My elbow hurts. What's this burnt smell?"

[yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou]

[slaed]

"That you like to snoop through other people's belongings."

It's Slade — just Slade for now — who slides into the backseat right behind Danila. The jeep could easily fit about five of him in the back.

"Although this is your work vehicle now, so I suppose, it doesn't count," he muses while stretching across the seat to reach for a large white bag with a minimalistic restaurant logo printed in the corner.

Slade pulls the bag close and sits upright, unbuttons his jacket. As if remembering something, he searches through his pockets. His gaze, as curious as it is unhinged, seeks out Danila's in the rearview mirror.

Unfortunately for Danila, he now has Slade's undivided attention.

The car smells faintly of leather, cigarette smoke, men's cologne and french fries.

"Now don't do anything stupid. Juno's watching even when you think he isn't." He leans against Danila's seat, the side of his face pressed into the cool black surface of the headrest. His right arm snakes over the other man's shoulder, a lighter in hand. "He doesn't trust you with me. Should he?"

He flicks the lighter on.

Juno is still outside, now discussing something with an unfamiliar man dressed like a typical security guard who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Another arm invades Danila's space. This time Slade's hand aims to rest over his bodyguard's chest, where the latest scar is forming. Slade himself reappears in the mirror, his face suddenly devoid of expression until he puts on his best Hollywood smile, the kind that shows too many teeth and never touches the bearer's eyes.

"If you do anything to him, I'll make it my life's mission to destroy everyone and everything you ever loved. And I will make sure you're alive and well to see it." He speaks casually, almost like they're having a friendly bout of smalltalk. "I know you're dumb as rocks — look at what you got us both into — but are you stupid enough to make yourself a proper enemy with nothing to lose and plenty of money to burn?" Then, without a pause, without a change in tone of voice, "Want some fries?"

[sociopathichero]

"You started it."

Danila gave the jeep's leather interior a once-over. So there came at least some perks with being Slade's bodyguard. Maybe it would alleviate his urge to strangle his dear new employer.

"Juno is wiser than you."

Danila lit a cigarette, praying the smoke wouldn't make him cough as he inhaled it greedily.

One thing he had already learned about Slade was that he was handsy. The hand on his chest was as wanted as the pinch on his hip had been. He was about to slap it away before he realized the placement was no coincidence. The eerie expression made Danila revisit the thought about the man being high on something.

He had his answer then. Do anything to Slade, get rolled inside a carpet. Do anything to Juno, have a lunatic ruin your life. What a wonderful set of options.

"...No." Getting threatened didn't do any wonders for his appetite. It, however, made him want to turn around and metaphorically stuff those threats right back down Slade's throat. Unfortunately, he was acutely aware that he sat right behind him and already had one hand on his chest.

There wasn't a long way from his chest to his throat.

But he had a lit cigarette. And faith that Slade would stop Juno from killing him, just like last time.

He reached to grab Slade's arm and tried to sink the cherry into his skin.

[slaed]

'Of course Juno is wiser, he's like a decade older! Can't you tell?' Slade thinks but doesn't bother to inform Danila who probably can't tell. A lot of people can't, much to Juno's chagrin. The glasses and wearing high-end office getup 24/7 only get one so far.

When Danila grabs his arm it doesn't alarm Slade as much as it ought to. What can the man even do to him within the confines of his own car? Especially with the chair back separating them? Apparently, just enough.

"You fucking bastard," Slade hisses through gritted teeth as the familiar feeling of a lit cigarette against his skin makes him see red. Instead of trying to pull away, he grabs onto Danila's shirt and uses it as leverage to pull himself into the space between the seats. He doesn't say anything else. The enraged expression on his face reflects everything that's on his mind.

A water bottle falls to the floor, a plastic cup crinkles under his knee. Slade holds on tight lest Danila attempts to escape from the car before his mission is complete. What mission? Slade will know once he's face-to-face with this insolent man.

Slade's foot catches on the cup holder and instead of plopping down in Danila's lap gracefully and menacingly, he crashes down in a contorted position with his forearm pressed against the car door window and his face buried in his own sleeve. His other arm flies free, elbow first into the general direction of Danila's head. Worst of all, his bony knee lands exactly in Danila's crotch.

This, of course, has to be the precise moment Juno swings the driver's door open and peers in with the intensity of a husband returned from work early who has just caught his cheating wife in action.

[slaed]

"See, he's doing gymnastics already. He's fiiiiine," Slade comments nonchalantly. However, once Danila approaches, he retreats behind Juno and stands a small distance away. This seems to be a trained and calculated move on his part rather than something born spontaneously out of fear.

There's a distinct difference in how the two men are looking at Danila: one as if he's a peculiar toy meant for his amusement, the other as if he is a roach on the kitchen counter.

Juno rewards the Danila's anger with a dismissive, "Duly noted."

Well, this definitely explains some things. Slade was not supposed to be the one to divulge this information due to safety concerns, but that's another conversation to be had and much later.

"Go get in the car," Juno orders. "Front seat."

"But I want him to be in the back with me!"

"No."

He doesn't draw his eyes away from Danila, not even for a second. Juno is waiting for any sign of proactive insubordination, any excuse to lay him out and put him back in the hospital for another week or several.

[sociopathichero]

Danila had to stop himself from trying to wrap his hands around Juno's throat after the man's response. Duly noted? He had enabled Slade to blackmail him, and all he had to say was duly noted?

"You better sleep with one eye open."

Giving Juno a venomous glare, he did as he was told—and made a point of slamming the door shut as hard as possible. The car was probably nice, but instead of admiring the interior, Danila focused on scouring through the center console and glove box in search of a pack of cigarettes. Surely, Slade must have forgotten at least one here somewhere.

Finally, he found a crumpled, near-empty pack. Danila held it up like a trophy, only to realize he had absolutely nothing to light a cigarette with. He sank into his seat, defeated.

How much more information had those two gathered on him? The thought of Slade being able to recount his life story back to him made Danila nauseous.

A car door opened.

"What else you nosy pricks found out?"

[slaed]

"That you like to snoop through other people's belongings."

It's Slade — just Slade for now — who slides into the backseat right behind Danila. The jeep could easily fit about five of him in the back.

"Although this is your work vehicle now, so I suppose, it doesn't count," he muses while stretching across the seat to reach for a large white bag with a minimalistic restaurant logo printed in the corner.

Slade pulls the bag close and sits upright, unbuttons his jacket. As if remembering something, he searches through his pockets. His gaze, as curious as it is unhinged, seeks out Danila's in the rearview mirror.

Unfortunately for Danila, he now has Slade's undivided attention.

The car smells faintly of leather, cigarette smoke, men's cologne and french fries.

"Now don't do anything stupid. Juno's watching even when you think he isn't." He leans against Danila's seat, the side of his face pressed into the cool black surface of the headrest. His right arm snakes over the other man's shoulder, a lighter in hand. "He doesn't trust you with me. Should he?"

He flicks the lighter on.

Juno is still outside, now discussing something with an unfamiliar man dressed like a typical security guard who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Another arm invades Danila's space. This time Slade's hand aims to rest over his bodyguard's chest, where the latest scar is forming. Slade himself reappears in the mirror, his face suddenly devoid of expression until he puts on his best Hollywood smile, the kind that shows too many teeth and never touches the bearer's eyes.

"If you do anything to him, I'll make it my life's mission to destroy everyone and everything you ever loved. And I will make sure you're alive and well to see it." He speaks casually, almost like they're having a friendly bout of smalltalk. "I know you're dumb as rocks — look at what you got us both into — but are you stupid enough to make yourself a proper enemy with nothing to lose and plenty of money to burn?" Then, without a pause, without a change in tone of voice, "Want some fries?"

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

do i piss you off platonically. are you mad at me forever as a friend

[slaed]

“Like hell I will!” Slade shouts back, unconvinced. He picks up pace once Danila begins chasing after him. He doesn’t stop even after he can hear the other man has just put himself out of commission. There is no telling how much of Danila’s suffering is simply an act to lure him closer.

Then, a safe distance away, Slade dares to look over his shoulder.

“Wow, not only do you suck at your job, you’re shit at running, too! Pathetic.”

He laughs. However, his laughter is cut short when he runs straight into something full-speed. Something, or someone, to be more precise, just so happens to be Juno who has just exited the building and was heading for the gates.

“Ow.. Watch where you’re going,” Slade grumbles half-heartedly as the redhead sets his hands on his waist to stabilize him.

“Always keep aware of your surroundings,” Juno responds strictly. His attention then turns to Danila. “What happened?”

“Dunno. Ask him yourself if you care about him so much.” — Slade weasels out of Juno’s grip. — “..Hey! HEY! DANILA! Are you done yet?” Slade calls out to his bodyguard in the most annoying and disrespectful tone of voice he can muster, as if the man is making a deliberate choice that’s holding them back. “We don’t have all day, you know!”

This gains him a curious look from Juno. Slade is by no means a good person, but Juno has never seen this sort of intentional, proactive.. cruelty coming from him before. This is yet another worrying piece of the puzzle that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere.

Whatever the final picture is, Juno is certain it won’t be pretty.

[sociopathichero]

Still panting as he tried to straighten up, Danila didn't dare to shout insults at Slade; he didn't need another coughing fit. Instead, he settled for raising his middle finger high above his head.

Fuck that guy and his obnoxious yelling. If getting killed wasn't exactly what Slade wanted—and if he wasn't threatening Viktor—he would be found dead somewhere on his property the very next day. Alas, Danila had to endure.

Feeling like a senior citizen, he finally shuffled to Slade and Juno. Getting shot sucked in general, but getting shot in the lung even more so. And yet, he couldn't be sure it would be the last time.

Ignoring Slade, he stopped in front of Juno. If Danila got rid of him, would Slade dare to do anything to Viktor on his own? Slade didn't seem like the type to get his hands dirty like that.

"I know you found out about Viktor," he hissed, not bothering to hide the seething anger in his voice.

[slaed]

"See, he's doing gymnastics already. He's fiiiiine," Slade comments nonchalantly. However, once Danila approaches, he retreats behind Juno and stands a small distance away. This seems to be a trained and calculated move on his part rather than something born spontaneously out of fear.

There's a distinct difference in how the two men are looking at Danila: one as if he's a peculiar toy meant for his amusement, the other as if he is a roach on the kitchen counter.

Juno rewards the Danila's anger with a dismissive, "Duly noted."

Well, this definitely explains some things. Slade was not supposed to be the one to divulge this information due to safety concerns, but that's another conversation to be had and much later.

"Go get in the car," Juno orders. "Front seat."

"But I want him to be in the back with me!"

"No."

He doesn't draw his eyes away from Danila, not even for a second. Juno is waiting for any sign of proactive insubordination, any excuse to lay him out and put him back in the hospital for another week or several.

[sociopathichero]

{ FIRST KISS 💋 } --- Sender gives receiver their first kiss (of the relationship, of a special occasion etc.)

💞💘🌸 VALENTINE’S DAY PROMPTS

{ FIRST KISS 💋 } — Sender gives receiver their first kiss (of the relationship, of a special occasion etc.)

Slade had sat him down in front of the TV and insisted they'd watch an Elvis documentary now that Danila had his green card. He had proclaimed it to be "part of the general education", and that "any honorary American should know everything about Elvis", though Danila wasn't sure if Slade actually thought the guy was that big of a deal.

Be that as it may, Danila humored him. So, with Slade curled next to him, he proceeded to wonder how Elvis had managed to keep his pompadour so flawless.

“You may now kiss as a sign of your union.”

Danila had a hard time containing his laughter as Slade dramatically dipped him backward before kissing him. With his whole field of view now filled with black hair, he lost his balance—and took Slade with him like a sinking ship.

It took a couple of tries for them to get back on their feet. With the same gracelessness, they stumbled down the aisle toward the chapel exit as the Elvis minister sang "Can't Help Falling in Love" so passionately that his wig shook.

They barely made it outside before Danila burst out laughing and had to sit down on the curb.

"You Americans are crazy! Who even is Elvis and why you can prene... pretend marriage with him?"

"You don't marry Elvis."

"You know what I mean... meant. Who is he?"

"Was. He was the King of Rock 'n' Roll."

"And why people want him in weddings?"

"I don't know."

"But you're American," Danila pointed out, the clear inconsistency making him frown.

"I don't know!"

"Whatever. Do you have... What it is? Bottle? With alcohol. Metal one."

"The hip flask? I thought you had it! I swear, if you lost it already..."

Slade, who was now resting his head on Danila's lap, looked up when the documentary got into Elvis' performances at the International Hotel.

"Hey, happy Valentine's Day."

"It's today?"

"Mhm."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

[meme reference]