#adrian dmitri.

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@jupiterfree // adrian asked for: 02. holds eye contact for just a second too long, lips parting.

THAT WAS FUCKING WEIRD.

Dmitri looks down at himself. His hands. From this angle, he can't really tell who he's supposed to be—cannot remember what his face looks like. Maybe it's some celebrity crush that flagrantly queer Vigilante used to jack off to posters of.

Because that's the only plausible explanation for why Adrian just looked at him like that.

Dmitri abruptly shifts. He clears his throat.

Joey had assumed Dmitri was straight. Dmitri is proud to be remarkably straight presenting. With everything going on in the warehouse—against the world at large, between Joey and Dmitri, and between Joey and Fallon, in particular—he regrets that it's very possible rumors about his sexuality will have begun to circulate—exacerbated from their latent status from before, when their only fragment of the truth was that he shifted into women and wore pretty, body-hugging dresses when his brother asked him to.

"Are you high?"

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@jupiterfree // adrian said: i just want one friend. just for one minute.

DMITRI DOES NOT BELIEVE THAT ANY OF HIS FORMS—ANY FORM THAT COMES TO MIND, A USUAL SUSPECT—ARE PARTICULARLY FRIEND-SHAPED.

Then, he realizes the forms aren't the solution, or the problem. The problem is him, his nature. And the solution is not one that can be provided by shapeshifting. How unfortunate. For all parties involved.

He forgets that he doesn't often get away with speaking to Vigilante the way he speaks to Joey.

"You sound pathetic."

In his head, he's being helpful.

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@jupiterfree // adrian asked for [ 07. ] [adrian] holds a knife to [dmitri's] throat, blade nicking their skin.

DMITRI IS VERY WELL AWARE BY NOW, THROUGH WORD OF MOUTH AND FIRSTHAND OBSERVATION, THAT VIGILANTE IS AN IMPRESSIVE AND EFFICIENT KILLER. If he wanted Dmitri dead, Dmitri would be dead by now. Still—the threat is not simply idle. Dmitri is not worried about skin-deep scarring or a brief flash of pain. He is worried about fundamentally altering this power dynamic.

"Let's calm down, now," Dmitri drawls—a disarmingly soothing purr. He grabs Vigilante's wrist. The suit's gloves prevent Dmitri from meaningfully prodding at any pressure points in his hands, unfortunately.

"I was only looking after myself. If your secret identity remained secret—it's a blindspot I simply can't afford."

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@jupiterfree // adrian asked for: [adrian] hooks a finger in the collar of [dmitri]’s clothes and tugs them closer.

IN WASHINGTON, THE KNIFE VIGILANTE HELD TO DMITRI'S THROAT WAS UNDERSTANDABLE. Respectable, even.

This display is more egregious and difficult to forgive. They're in Dmitri's warehouse. His territory. He should have some sort of superiority, here. What he says goes. Vigilante has one chance to disagree. Dmitri will correct him. Afterwards, the only correct option is to submit. Not to grab Dmitri. Not for Vigilante to plead his case.

It feels like he's losing the respect of those around him—respect he'd fought for despite not deserving in the first place—and he doesn't know how to win it back.

Vigilante's suit is durable. Dmitri cannot access any pressure points, and he doubts he could easily dislocate his shoulder. Instead, there's the primal and aggro urge to shove Vigilante, hard, which he follows through on. Whether Vigilante maintains his grip afterwards remains to be seen.

"Did you forget who I am? What I do?" As much as Vigilante might want to cringe at this, he better start listening; Dmitri believes it wholeheartedly: "I am a supervillain. I do bad things."