#I am once again using old footages to make new videos

[frances-and-the-moon]

My Han Joowon. The saviour who came to ruin my life.

[frozenjokes]

There Are Many Ways To Deal With The Awkward Tension Of Reconnecting With An Old Friend. Beating The Shit Out Of Each Other.. Is A Way

and also there’s mermaids

“Bdubs! Hello, hello, what are you up to today?” Scar laid across his bed, kicking his legs as he watched the trail cams sitting at his desk. There was a lot of shuffling on the other end of the phone, so Scar waited patiently, letting his mind wander. It had been a week since The Incident at the cove, but Mumbo still hadn’t resurfaced. Scar didn’t blame him of course, Mumbo was the flighty type and Scar himself would have been scared shitless if he had been there (and who knew what they were talking about; Scar’s cameras didn’t have sound), but Scar couldn’t keep himself from worrying.

He had driven out there the moment Etho left, of course he had! Grian made some excuse, as if Scar couldn’t tell when he was lying, but it didn’t matter, because Mumbo was back, and Scar didn’t need to be babysat anyway. Unfortunately, Mumbo hadn’t been around, nor had he been there the next day when Scar had made the trek, so instead he settled on watching the trail cams over the course of the next week. Of course, Mumbo hadn’t shown up, not even once. And Scar reviewed all the footage, even from when he was asleep or away from home- it wasn’t a crime to be excited about your friend, alright?

In the meantime though, since he couldn’t just watch his cameras all day, Scar spent most of his free moments terrorizing Etho.

“Scar! You’re on speaker, I’m watering my plants. Might be a little feedback, I’m moving around. As for plans, not much, but this is going to be the next hour of my life, so, there’s that,” Bdubs mused, and there was a lot of feedback. When Bdubs started to fill his watering can in the sink, Scar couldn’t even hear a thing.

“Perfect! I was just wondering, is Etho home?”

Scar guessed Bdubs didn’t hear much of what he said over the water, but Etho’s name was enough of a clue, Bdubs yelling across the apartment to where his roommate was probably lounging on the couch. “Etho? What do you want me to tell Scar?”

Bdubs shut the water off, and Scar heard the tail end of a groan. “That I’m not here. Bdubs, I told you that is always the answer, you do not have to ask me every time.�� There was a bit more grumbling, but Scar couldn’t make it out.

“You might’ve changed your mind. I don’t know,” Bdubs continued, undeterred, “And I got two new plants I wanted to show him, I need help with names.”

“Why would you ask Scar of all people- his names are awful.”

“Hey!” Scar yelled to be heard, but he was deftly ignored.

“I like Scar’s names. They’re dumb, but always kind of sweet, y’know? And when I look at them and remember, it makes me smile.”

Scar preened, cutting in before Etho got another word in, “Why thank you! Yes Bdubs, I would love to come over and look at your plants. Can I invite Grian?”

The surprised silence was a little bit painful, but didn’t last long, “Grian? Sure, I don’t see why not! You guys talking again?”

“Ah- kind of. We’ve been stuck a little bit at the ‘sending cat videos over Instagram’ stage of things for about a month, but we’ve seen each other one or two times since then. Last week actually, we hung out for like an hour. It was nice.”

“Oh no.” A distant Etho said, and after a bit of feedback, Scar heard Bdubs respond sharply,

“Oh no, what?”

Scar cringed a bit, but Etho didn’t seem bothered, an accusatory edge to his voice, “I bet Scar tried bonding with his estranged friend by telling him about all his conspiracies! Just a week ago, that’s when this mermaid business started. Neither of us have even met Grian!”

“Scar wouldn’t do that.” Bdubs defended astutely, Scar following up with his own placating Noooooooo! to which Bdubs turned on him immediately. “Scar! You did not start sharing your Etho conspiracies with Grian, did you?”

“I would never! I would never, Bdubs, you think so little of me!”

“I am uninviting Grian. I can not deal with two idiots interrogating me about random bullshit. Mermaids, spies, aliens- offensive, by the way, Scar, nor was I grown in a tube.”

“I didn’t say you were an alien, just abducted at a young age! Also, that’s what a tube-grown clone would say, just you wait until I find your doppelgänger. I have a feeling you don’t remember, implanted memories and such, but once I get enough evidence you’ll see. Also you can’t uninvite Grian because I didn’t call you. I called Bdubs. And Bdubs invited him.”

“Bdubs! Uninvite Grian.”

“Oh..” Bdubs said, “But I’ve heard so much about him, I really would love to meet him! And you know I’d just love to show off the apartment, it’s been ages since anyone has come over, and so much has changed! Actually, I haven’t even seen most of my friends in like a month. You know, we need to do more group hangouts. I’m going to plan something. I’m going to do it right now.” Again, Bdubs turned on the sink to fill the watering can, and Scar missed 90% of what he was saying, though he did catch an exaggerated groan from Etho.

“Great! I’ll be right over! Unless you wanted to pick me up?”

Bdubs shut the sink water off. “I don’t. It’s a two minute drive, you’ll be fine.”

“See you in ten, then! It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

Bdubs scoffed, and Scar could hear the eye roll over the phone, “Enjoy, then.” Scar smiled, hanging up without another word, and gathering his things for the walk over, only glancing a normal amount of times at his monitor before slipping out the door. He lifted his phone to call Grian, but lost his nerve and texted him instead. They’d talked about this last night, so it wasn’t a surprise or anything; Grian had said that Scar clearly wasn’t any good at needling any information out of Etho, impatient as he always was, but Scar didn’t think Grian would have the tact for this kind of thing. Grian disagreed, and the arrangement was made.

Grian was utterly taken with the idea of a translator, a sentiment Scar didn’t entirely share. It would be nice, yes, and Scar would really love to know the things Mumbo had to say, but he was not optimistic about Etho agreeing to do something like that- he wasn’t even sure Etho knew the language at all. Despite him and Mumbo seeming to get along, that could have just been solidarity between the species, and even though Etho did just randomly show up as a human out of nowhere one day, Scar wasn’t entirely sure if the time before that was spent solely as a mermaid. There could be more than one mermaid language! He and Grian didn’t know anything at all, really.

And if all of these things lined up perfectly (which Grian seemed to think they would), getting Etho to do anything was still a fucking chore. Etho was a man of habit. Once he decided he liked something a certain way, he never wanted to change, and a lot of these little habits could be massive deals like: leaving the house! Most days, Etho did not leave the house, doing freelance work that facilitated that lifestyle (game testing/design/other programming work- Scar didn’t quite remember). When he did leave the house however, he only wanted to do so with Bdubs, holding Bdubs’ hand (his emotional support Bdubs; Etho’s words, not Scar’s), literally going nowhere without being within a few feet of Bdubs, as if the ground might open up and swallow him whole if his roommate strayed out of sight.

And it wasn’t entirely Etho’s fault. He was largely visually impaired, in part due to his albinism, and in other part due to the old injury that spanned across his right eye, leaving him mostly blind and practically devoid of any hand-eye coordination. Bdubs met him in a vulnerable time, so he’d kind of latched on, afraid of most other people for quite a long while, so Scar did understand, he did. However, sometimes Etho’s stubborn mannerisms could be very frustrating, especially since he was often opposed to any and all efforts to find him other accommodations.

Scar had been trying to convince him to get on the waitlist for a service dog for years (among quite a few other things), and that he would even help him train one from scratch (something Scar had always been interested in doing, and he had connections that could help him out), but Etho just wouldn’t budge. Bdubs really loved the idea, and the apartment they’d moved into a couple years ago had been explicitly picked because it allowed dogs, but alas, Etho was Etho, and whenever he and Bdubs made even the tiniest bit of progress to convince him, he would double right back weeks later.

This aversion to leaving the house did not, however, stop Etho from fucking off by himself constantly, which drove Bdubs crazy more than anyone else. If Etho was feeling nice, he’d give about a day’s advance notice, but half the time Bdubs would just come home from work to a note and an extremely unspecified time frame of when Etho would be back. That was part of the reason Bdubs wanted him to have a dog so badly; he really worried when Etho would go off by himself for days at a time, especially when he seemed to be so dependent on Bdubs so often. Though, Scar got the sense Bdubs was just as much an emotional support as he was a physical one, and told him as much on bad days when Bdubs couldn’t quite get out of his own head. Maybe that’s part of why Scar was so frustrated with Etho so often. It didn’t feel fair to Bdubs.

Still, what did Scar know anyway? Etho had been getting a bit better with his agoraphobia as well as general fear of literally everything, and in the past year he’d even gone out alone with Scar or Cleo; mundane things like taking a walk or grocery shopping, but monumental all the same. In hindsight, maybe the reason Etho was so opposed to a service dog was because of the part time mermaid business; he couldn’t exactly take it into the water or take care of it when he was away. Maybe the responsibility was too much pressure? Still, surely he had some control over when he was or wasn’t a mermaid; there had been someone else, someone he was coordinating with. Scar hadn’t known Etho had any other friends. Somehow, this felt just about as monumental as learning magic was real- maybe that was mean, but it was true. The stranger had been dressed oddly as well, though the robe was likely because mermaids didn’t really wear clothes. Pants probably wouldn’t end very well when you’re growing a tail.

He didn’t get much more time to think before he was at Bdubs’ and Etho’s apartment, taking the elevator up after he was buzzed in.

“Hello there!” he announced himself as he walked through the door, greeting Bdubs with a hug and Etho with a wave. He left Etho to whatever he was doing on his laptop, letting Bdubs sweep him away to the new members of the household. Scar named the cactus Squishy, which both of them found hilarious, and the vine Maple, for no other reason than it felt right. Grian arrived just a few minutes later, just as Etho was making sandwiches and Bdubs and Scar were chatting at the kitchen table, but Bdubs got up to greet him, his natural smile coming through. Scar’s own smile fell strained, his fingers curling against the grained wood as he fought to stay seated. Maybe Etho heard the squeak of his chair or his nails against the table, because just a moment later he was behind Scar, setting a plate on the placemat in front of him, and trailing a hand over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen island. About the extent of Etho’s physical affection, and a gesture Scar appreciated deeply. After setting down two more plates; one for Bdubs and one for Grian, he sat by Scar’s side, leaving the chairs opposite from them open.

Bdubs and Grian didn’t join them immediately, Bdubs eager to give his tour, so Scar found something else to talk about while they waited, Etho offering his own sparse input while he played solitaire instead of eating, the cards laid in place of a plate. Scar wondered absently if Grian’s heart clenched like his did when he heard the other’s voice, or if there was just something wrong with him. He noticed Etho staring from his good eye, though had trouble reading him. Etho never did emote very much, and in combination with the mask, it wasn’t easy. On the other hand, Scar was sure Etho saw right through him.

“How do you like your sandwich?” Etho asked, turning back to his game, though it was quite obvious Scar hadn’t touched it.

“I was waiting,” he said, feeling a bit awkward, but Etho shook his head.

“Don’t.” There was intention there, so Scar didn’t fight him, getting the sense Etho was trying to tell him something he just wasn’t understanding. Maybe he looked less like a kicked puppy when he was eating. Or maybe Scar was just reading too much into it, and Etho just wanted to know how he liked the sandwich. But then again, Etho didn’t ask a second time.

It wasn’t long before Grian and Bdubs joined them though, Scar not noticing at all that Grian chose to sit across from Etho instead of him, but he didn’t get the chance to linger, not with Bdubs’ bright conversation and Etho’s small banter. It was nice, homey.

“So.” Etho started suddenly, Bdubs’ prior story hardly having ended before he spoke up, “When’s the interrogation? You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here,” he said, visibly relaxed as he continued his game, “Still on mermaids, or is it something different? It’s gotta be an event to have invited a partner in crime.”

Grian looked surprised, giving Scar a startled look that made him laugh, “Of course it’s still mermaids, we know, Etho, so it’s best if you admit it now. You’ve got a part time ocean job! That’s where you’re always disappearing to, obviously.”

“I- seriously? Scar, you told me I lack subtly! I didn’t think he knew yet!”

Etho laughed, and Scar did as well, giggling over his mostly eaten sandwich, “I did not say subtly. I said tact. How else am I supposed to get Etho to admit he’s a mermaid if I don’t tell him I think he’s a mermaid?” Scar began eying his glass of water, inching his hand toward it, but faster than a flash, Etho caught his wrist.

“Not again.”

“Not- Scar?” Grian squeaked, Bdubs scoffing in turn.

“Please don’t make another mess, I do not need to ask our neighbors to borrow a mop for the third time this week. If you aren’t going to finish it, water goes in the sink.”

“It was an important experiment!” Scar threw up his hands, Etho’s still attached to his wrist, “The first time could have been a fluke! He’s got to turn into a mermaid somehow!”

“If only it was that easy,” Etho said dryly, and laughed when Grian gaped at him, elbowing Scar, “Your friends are so gullible.”

Scar rolled his eyes. “Okay, in Impulse’s defense, you really played into the abducted by aliens bit- he was concerned! He really thought you were being experimented on!”

“Yeah,” Etho sighed, content, “That was hilarious.” He stopped for a moment, letting go of Scar’s wrist to take the glasses of water to the kitchen island, “This is too dangerous, actually. I will now be removing the temptation.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” Scar side eyed Grian with a small smirk, satisfied when Grian let out an exasperated groan.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all week? Just pouring water on Etho’s head? No wonder he hasn’t admitted anything! Is- do you guys just do this constantly? Make up reasons for his disappearances? No wonder he’s not taking you seriously! Have you even brought up the trail cams yet?”

The entire room froze, like time had completely halted. Bdubs’ eyebrows furrowed, giving Scar a confused look, while Scar put his head in his hands. “..No tact.”

“What?” Grian looked briefly panicked, his voice pitching up an octave, “Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to? What- Scar, why didn’t you tell me? What else haven’t you said?”

Etho hadn’t turned around from his place at the island, just standing there, staring stiff straight ahead. “What cameras, Scar?”

Ah. Yeah. The exact kind of bad tone Scar was really hoping to avoid today and also forever.

“Scar,” Bdubs said darkly, always quick to the defense, “You have not been stalking Etho, have you? You have videos of him?”

“No- It’s not like that, Bdubs, I was watching something else- they’re trail cameras, they’re for animals, the fact that Etho was on them was just chance! I promise I wasn’t deliberately looking out for anyone, it just happened that-“ Scar grit his teeth, struggling to fix this before Bdubs actually caught wind of what was going on, “There’s nothing actually on them. I was hoping to get some cool footage of the deer in the forest preserve by the lake, the one without trails or anything. Just saw Etho through one of them, thought it was an odd coincidence. I know you’re very particular about your privacy, Etho,” Scar shot Grian a sharp look, Grian not getting the message in the slightest and bristling through his panic.

“You didn’t tell me-“

“Sorry.” Scar interrupted him through gritted teeth, “I shouldn’t have shown anyone. Just got excited, I wasn’t thinking. Thought you met one of my friends, that’s all.” If there was any doubt about exactly what Scar and Grian had seen before, now there was none, as obvious as the tenseness in Etho’s back when Scar said the words out loud. Bdubs noticed it too, of course he noticed. Scar just hoped he didn’t pick up on the hurried lie.

“You should go.” Bdubs said, just as tired as he sounded angry, but his voice softened when he turned to Grian, “I’m really sorry. Now’s just a bad time.”

“I understand,” Grian got to his feet, looking relieved for an excuse to run, “I didn’t realize.. I’m sorry. Your apartment is lovely, truly, and lunch was great as well. Thank you.”

“Scar.” Bdubs turned a glare his way, and Scar was up and away in the same moment, passing Grian on his retreat to the door. For a moment, Scar considered taking the elevator, then came to the conclusion that nothing would be worse than getting in a small box with a furious Grian. Unfortunately for him, Grian followed him down the stairs, and not even his own long legs could keep him far enough from his wrath.

“Scar.” Grian’s venom was a quiet hiss, potent enough to knock him over, “What was that? Seriously! What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t said anything! I didn’t realize you were just poking fun all week! I thought you were serious about this!”

“I thought- I thought- I don’t know! I thought we were just going to hang out, have a little fun! I thought you might want to meet Etho and- I don’t know! I didn’t expect you to say anything in front of Bdubs, come on! I didn’t think I had to tell you! I just thought you would know that!”

“You don’t think Bdubs knows?”

“I- Grian, of course he doesn’t know! What gave you any impression he did?”

“You- seriously!? You’ve been telling me all week about this friend that disappears or locks himself in the bathroom for days at a time and you don’t think his roommate who you tell me he’s extremely codependent on has any idea? I don’t believe that at all!”

“Etho is very protective of his privacy, Grian, and Bdubs respects that. I promise you, he doesn’t know. Etho takes his secrets to the grave.”

“I just don’t believe it. I don’t.”

“Come on, Grian!” Scar didn’t mean to shout, but he wasn’t very sorry either. Grian only came down harder on his heels, nearly tripping him down the stairs.

“What? What?” Grian growled, stomping as he went, “This is insane. You’re just expecting me to accept that Bdubs asks zero questions? That Etho just doesn’t eat when he’s locked himself up? You told me Etho can’t drive, so how does he get from place to place when he’s got to go to the water?”

Scar seethed, and it took all of his self control to keep walking. “It’s nice to hear you know more about my friends than I do, Grian. If you must know, it’s been quite a point of contention for them for years! Maybe you have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong to get information out of your friends, but mine actually like to talk to me, so I’d appreciate it if you believed me when I tell you for certain Bdubs doesn’t know, and even if I didn’t explicitly tell you not to say that shit, maybe it should have been common sense!” Scar stepped hard onto the lobby’s landing, huffing as he strode toward the front entrance, but was stopped short as Grian grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking hard.

“So this is my fault now? Go on, Scar, if you’re thinking it, then say it. Turn around and say it to my face. Say it!”

“What’re you gonna do,” Scar scorned, pushing Grian off his back, “Throw a fit in the lobby? Hit me? You don’t even care about Etho, you’re just interested in what he can give you. People like you are the reason he has to hide.”

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you are, Scar.” Grian’s eyes were dark, but Scar couldn’t have given less of a fuck.

“Come on,” Scar sneered, “Don’t think I didn’t notice. The minute you stopped looking at Mumbo as a way to make a quick buck, you stopped caring altogether. You didn’t even want to see him when he came back! He’s not worth your time anymore. No one’s-” Grian reared back, and Scar didn’t get to finish before Grian nailed him in the jaw, sending him stumbling. And fuck if it didn’t feel good.

Scar saw red, lunging forward and grabbing fistfuls of Grian’s sweater before shoving him to the ground. Grian did not go down easy, kicking forcefully at Scar’s legs, then getting ahold of his shirt and dragging him the rest of the way down with a strength Scar didn’t know he possessed.

“You hurt me!” someone wailed, and after a moment, Scar was pretty sure it was him, only nearly rolling out of the way as Grian threw another punch.

“I want to!” Grian shrieked in return, winding back, but Scar kicked him before he could finish, leaping on top before he could sit up. Grian battered Scar’s stomach with his legs, and Scar found himself wrestling blindly on the floor, clawing at skin and sweaters for any purchase at all. The ding of the elevator stopped both of them in their tracks. Scar was only aware he was on top, only aware his hand was raised when someone grabbed it, yanking him up and right out the two sets of front doors. Scar just let himself be dragged to his feet and away, bodily awareness returning slower than the time it took him to walk an entire block. He only realized Grian was trailing after them two blocks later. Them. Etho, walking so far ahead of him, the two of their arms were taut. He did not speak. He did not look back. Well. Scar was a little too in shock to do either of those things anyway.

Etho brought them to one part of the forest preserve close to their houses, the least populated part, typically known for its unkempt trails and thin walking paths with not much to see, so, perfect for being yelled at probably. Which Etho seemed eager to do, since they didn’t even get five feet onto the trail before Etho turned, still aggressively holding Scar’s hand. The few seconds he waited for Grian to catch up were some of the tensest in Scar’s life.

“It is just my luck,” Etho began, and Scar was pretty sure he’d never been more afraid in his entire life, “That I happen to know the two idiots in the entire country who’ve befriended a fucking mermaid.”

Scar didn’t say a word. Neither did Grian.

“Does anyone else know?”

Scar looked at Grian. Grian looked at Scar.

“No,” Scar said.

Etho sighed raggedly, shoulders falling, “Okay. Okay. I need you to tell me exactly what was on those cameras. And if you haven’t deleted the footage, you will. Actually, I’d like to go to your place and watch you delete it. I need. The peace of mind.”

Scar looked at Grian. Grian looked at Scar.

“Will one of you two just talk to me?”

Scar pursed his lips, looking at Grian. Grian looked right back. Scar glanced guiltily at Etho, then right back to Grian, and Grian looked-

“Scar. Scar. Tell me what you saw.”

“Uh-” Scar startled, finding this a little unfair since he had answered the last question, but Etho was very scary and looking at him expectantly, so there wasn’t much else he could do, “We saw you and Mumbo. The mermaid. And we saw you laying on the beach for a while. And then Mumbo came back, and you didn’t look so good. And there was that other guy-”

“So you saw everything,” Etho cut him off flatly, looking tired. Scar nodded feverishly, and beside him Grian did the same. Etho let go of Scar’s hand, only to put his head in his own. “What are the chances.”

“Do you speak his language? The same language as Mumbo?” Grian piped up, and Scar shot him a startled look, to which Grian glared back, to which Scar glared back, to which-

“Uhm,” Etho sounded confused, removing his hands from his face, “Yes? I imagine we grew up in the same place.. Don’t ask questions about where I’m from. Actually, don’t ask me anything at all. Don’t talk to me.”

But Grian lit up, eyes shining brighter than Scar had ever seen them, “I told you!” he shot back at Scar, who folded his arms, but Grian was not deterred, turning back to a frightened looking Etho, “Will you teach me? I want to learn it, I want to talk to him. I want to know what he’d say to us if he could- so you grew up a mermaid? You learned English! Could you teach him English? I- I mean we’re already teaching him, but it would be so much easier if you could help us!” Grian cut himself off, looking sheepish before continuing, “Is he- do you know if Mumbo’s actually a guy? I mean, I doubt he cares what we call him, but I was just thinking about that the other day, we don’t actually know.”

“I- no? No, no, and no, no, I am not doing any of that. Why do you even-? No. And Mumbo isn’t anything, we don’t do gender, but he did tell us he liked the pronouns you gave him, so hey, there you go.”

“I-I want to thank him! And I want to tell him I’m sorry.”

Etho stared for a moment, stunned, and Scar found himself similarly shocked, giving Grian his own wide eyed stare. “That’s.. Sweet,” Etho finally said, conflict creasing his brow. “Well.. thank you is,” ‘Thank you,’ “and I’m sorry is,” ‘Sorry.’ Etho snapped as he whistled, presumably in intervals where a mermaid would have clicked. “I guess I can send Scar voice memos if you want them, but full offense, I do not want your number.”

“What?? Why not!”

“I think you’re going to be very annoying.”

Scar snorted, and Grian snapped to face him, looking about two seconds away from committing manslaughter, but he seemed to calm himself down enough to speak to Etho again. “Okay. Fine. Then tell me how to say ‘I’m sorry I took advantage of your trust and tried to shoot you in the face.’”

Etho, deadpan, started to translate, but Scar interrupted him with a startled, “You did WHAT?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, the notes in his voice all casual. He looked at his nails, almost bored, “Came out right after he bit you. He had no idea. Wanted to know what it was I was holding.”

“I- I can’t believe you! And you never told me? What else have you done and never said a word about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Okay, enough of this, I don’t care,” Etho pushed between them in a forceful huff, “Scar, take me to your house. I’ll send you the thing for Grian later, and as an apology for screaming at each other so loud we could hear you on the fourth floor, you’re going to walk me home. And never talk about this ever again.”

“Okay, wait, I don’t actually want to say that to Mumbo-“

“Come on then.” Grabbing at Scar’s hand, Etho started to drag him the other direction, ignoring the offended sound Grian made behind him.

“I’m not just going to go away.” Grian huffed, following at Scar’s heel, “We have to walk the same direction. And I don’t agree to these terms either, I have quite a bit to say to you.”

“Annoying.” Was all Etho had to say to that, and Scar could hear Grian seething behind them. He wasn’t about to push his luck with Etho though and stayed quiet, walking at his side instead of awkwardly behind him. Grian (pointedly, Scar imagined) didn’t even stop when Scar and Etho turned off onto the street that led to Scar’s house, not looking their way or saying goodbye, and most definitely pissed off this didn’t go his way. Scar was glad for it. He was glad to be right. He was glad to feel ugly.

…

Etho stuttered to a stop when he reached Scar’s desk, and Scar only remembered now that he should probably feel embarrassed about this. Even Grian had been surprised and possibly a little concerned, but sue Scar for caring about his friends! Four cameras displayed on two separate monitors wasn’t even that many. It was like he was the only person on the planet that thought mermaids were cool!

“This is.. Wow, Scar.” If Etho was trying to hide how judgemental he sounded, he was doing a poor job, but then again, it was Etho, so he probably didn’t care to preserve Scar’s feelings. “This is always going?”

“Yeah.” Scar said shortly, sitting down to pull up the footage from the prior week, and aching at the thought of deleting it. And he would, obviously he would for Etho, it was just.. the first videos he had of Mumbo. It didn’t matter how grainy the footage was, it was Mumbo, and he was coming back, coming home to see them. God Scar wanted to see him. But honestly, it would probably be best for Mumbo as well if no photos or videos of him existed anywhere. The last thing Scar wanted was for something awful to happen to him. “Here it is,” Scar leaned back, showing Etho the sped up clip. In the end, it didn’t matter much if Scar deleted it; he’d already watched the whole thing like a hundred times, basically committing it to memory.

“You really did see everything,” Etho breathed, and Scar nodded numbly, chin resting on his hands as he watched. “I gave Mumbo quite the fright. I feel a little bad about it.”

“You should feel bad. He hasn’t come back.” Scar had to fight to keep his voice even, but Etho wasn’t stupid, looking a bit awkward as he shifted his weight.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t know. I mean, I really didn’t know, obviously, but if it helps you feel any better, I doubt he’ll be gone for long. He really likes you guys, was excited to show you all the stuff he brought up from deeper waters.” Etho paused for a long moment, staring at his hands. Earlier in the week, they had painted each other’s nails, and the paint on Etho’s was already chipping. He always did enjoy peeling it off.

“You could apologize yourself, y’know. Come out and see him, at least once.”

“Ehhh,” Etho shrugged his shoulders close to his body, his frown evident even through the mask, “I don’t know about that, Scar. I doubt he likes me very much anymore anyway. Mermaids can be jumpy things, and he was very kind, but nervous. He didn’t like Joel at all, which is reasonable; there’s not a single person on the planet that likes Joel, and that’s the way he prefers it. I just mean to say he probably associates the two of us now, and even if he liked me before, he probably sees me as a threat now. If you think about it, we kinda came in and trashed his safe place with a bunch of bullshit. He will not be pleased.”

“Joel.. The other guy? Your secret friend?”

Etho snorted, “Friend is a strong word.”

Scar frowned, worry creasing his brow. Etho seemed a little alarmed by the expression, but Scar spoke before he got the chance to backpedal, “Is.. Who is he, then? Is he..” Scar trailed off, searching for the right word. It was a little hard to get over how uncomfortable Etho looked before the change, and even afterwards, Scar couldn’t imagine it being anything less than painful, “hurting you..?” Scar decided on, and Etho looked away, back to the screens.

“It’s complicated. Joel’s a weird guy,” Etho didn’t look very much like he wanted to elaborate, but Scar’s supremely Unsatisfied With That Answer face seemed to convince him, “Joel is.. I don’t know. He lives on a small island off the coast, concealed from most human sights; maps, satellites, and such. I believe he was cursed, or maybe banished there at some point- even knowing him for so long, most of the details are unclear. I don’t even know if he was ever born, or just- made by someone else, messing with forces they definitely shouldn’t. All this to say, I don't think he has parents, and it's quite up in the air about whether or not he has a conscience either. He doesn’t really see the world or the people in it as anything beyond how it can entertain or benefit him. So when I ended up washing up at his shores, he thought he might be able to use me to escape. Get off the island, you know? He was half right.”

“Do I need to beat the piss out of this guy?”

“No,” Etho said, all too simply, “He’d probably just wipe you off the face of the Earth, literally. I don’t know exactly what he is, but he’s got some sort of power over the island. You’ll never see it, he would never let you, but the place he’s made for himself is beautiful. He doesn’t do much else besides terraform it and watch unsuspecting ships crash into it and laugh at them; really, he’s not a pleasant guy. Extremely arguably not human, either. I don’t know much about it, I’ve never gotten to meet his.. relatives. Heavy quotes there. Doubt they’d be very pleased that the embodiment of pure evil they created found a way to leave the little island prison he is confined to.”

Scar stared, pretending to understand any of that made any sense. “This all makes perfect sense to me.”

Etho scoffed a small laugh, “Welcome to the club. Imagine that’s your only exposure to ‘humanity’ for two years, and then you finally get out into the real world and realize that actually magic doesn’t exist anywhere and that guy that peeled you off the rocks was an outlier. Anyway, it was pretty cool to figure out people were nice. But yeah, basically, my understanding of what he did to me was split our souls? We share them, kind of, which means a whole lot of bullshit, but mainly it means that he doesn’t start melting every time he sets foot off the island. He doesn’t melt at all as a mermaid, though he’s just about as reclusive as it gets, so he hangs around anyway, terraforming the underwater bits of his island. Apparently there’s a lot of safeguards meant to keep him trapped there, but they don’t account for species changes. And no, I don’t know why I don’t melt. He thought I would for ages, but apparently spellwork attaches to people specifically, and doesn’t transfer over soulbounds? I don’t know.”

“You’re losing me here, Etho.”

“Yeah. That's about 80% of the reason I didn’t tell Mumbo anything. Because then he’d ask questions, and I’d just have to shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know, because literally, I do not know. I’ve just started accepting these things as they happen to me. It really doesn’t help that Joel is a compulsive liar. But I guess to kind of answer your question, no, this was not voluntary, and I have very little control over whether I’m human or not. Joel has too much power over me for me to call him a friend, but as a placeholder, it works. I wouldn’t go back though, if you were wondering. To being a mermaid. I’m happy, much happier than I was in the ocean; I just couldn’t quite find my place. And you guys have computers, seriously, that shit is awesome.” Scar thought he saw a ghost of a smile under Etho’s mask, but it quickly vanished, “Of course, my life is now in serious jeopardy, but if all else fails, I guess I’ll just go back to the island and live there full time again.” Etho shrugged, and Scar frowned, fidgeting.

“We aren’t going to tell anyone, Etho. I can promise you that, really. Neither of us have said a word about Mumbo- we both know what could happen. I don’t want either of you to be killed or sold off somewhere or anything, especially not you, god.” Scar paused, closing his eyes and bracing himself, “And I.. I really think you should tell Bdubs.”

“No.”

“Come on, Etho, just listen-”

“No. And that’s the end of it. I don’t care who it is or how much I trust them or even the extent they would go to keep this secret a secret, I will not take any risks. And Bdubs respects that, he respects that some things I’d rather keep to myself, so it’s none of your business whether I tell him anything at all. You don’t get a say, not when your life isn’t on the line. I have very little control over my life, Scar, and now there’s two more people out there that have more power over me than I do. So if you really love me, you won’t say a word about this ever again.”

“I-” Scar looked helplessly at his hands, unable to look Etho’s intensity in the eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

Etho’s shoulders relaxed substantially, and he closed his eyes for a long while, silence slowly chipping away at the tension. Scar didn’t dare break it. Eventually, Etho did so himself, “And Joel’s alright. He’s not alright for you or anyone else, but he’s alright for me. I like him. He really likes me; a bit clingy, honestly. He doesn’t really.. he doesn’t know how to respect me as a person, but he’s trying. It’s easy enough to ignore. We get along, so it's nothing for you to worry about. But if it’s okay, that’s all I really want to talk about him right now.” Etho quieted, and Scar nodded, not entirely knowing what to do with this.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, “I’m sorry this happened to you. And I.. I mean, I don’t understand it all, but I hope you’ll find a bit more power over your own life.”

Etho nodded, but in acknowledgment rather than agreement, “I won’t.”

There was nothing else to say. Scar deleted the footage without another word, showing Etho in every way he could manage that it was gone, not because the other asked, but because he wanted to. He wanted Etho to feel safe. Though, no matter how long Scar scoured his face, it was impossible to tell.

“Alright,” Etho stood a little straighter after it was done, “I’m going to head out now. I know I asked you to walk me back, but I actually think I’d rather be alone right now. Thank you, Scar.”

Scar blinked, surprised, “Are you sure? Bdubs wouldn’t mind driving over if you wanted him to. He’s probably worried, you know how he gets.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

And that was that.

The front door clicked shut as Etho exited, not even wanting to be walked to the door, and Scar was left to lay in bed and sit on everything he had learned. None of it made any more sense with the passing of time, and Scar felt so overloaded with information, he was finding it easier just to accept it all without question. My friend was a mermaid. Still is, but part time. He’s got some sort of magic bond with some freak that treats him poorly, but apparently they hang out just fine. Friend might be a demon. Those might as well be real. Magic is real. Kind of. Scar wasn’t sure if that one would process in his brain anytime soon. And how did this damn island work? If people disappeared on it, surely someone would notice eventually. Surely the government knew, or something. Maybe the government already knew magic existed. They must, right?

It kind of sounded like Joel killed people. Was anyone going to do anything about that? Damn, if Etho ever decided to talk about any of this stuff, that would be the craziest rage room session of all time. He wouldn’t, though. A shame.

At this point, Scar kind of felt like his brain was going to explode, so he simply stopped thinking about it. Unsuccessfully. Then he laughed out loud when he imagined trying to explain everything Etho had told him to Grian. Grian the control freak, who needed to know every detail in order to be satisfied, who would needle you for hours if that’s how long it took him to get the facts straight. Grian was a pretty good mediator among their many interconnected friend groups for that reason; he came with his own biases of course, but when it came down to it, he just wanted to get the whole story, and that was useful for working out miscommunications.

Grian. Nothing about him was satisfying. God, Scar was angry, he was so angry, and that felt bad, but so much better than being sad and awkward all the time, and suddenly Scar wanted nothing more than to be back on the dingy carpet of the apartment lobby, hissing and grunting and beating the piss out of each other; finish what they started. But he couldn’t exactly do that, so he took a shower about it instead, head resting idly against the tile as the water ran down his back. About an hour of that passed before he got bored of it, so he got out, not even remembering if he washed his hair, and collapsed once more onto his bed. The thought still hadn’t left his head. He eyed his phone dangerously.

Etho had sent him a text telling him he got home safe, no doubt sent after Bdubs pestered him to do so. Pearl had asked something about needing to buy some more supplies for the sanitation department at the zoo, which Scar okayed without even looking at the list. He opened Grian’s messages.

‘Are you sober?’ Scar watched the screen idly, eyes half lidded, but perked up a bit when Grian answered quickly.

‘yes? it’s 3:00 Scar’

‘why.’

Scar typed and deleted the message for five whole minutes, struggling to put his thoughts to words. Well. At this point, there was no sugarcoating this.

‘I want to fight. And then get very drunk. And then maybe fight again. And then throw up probably’

‘We didn’t get to finish’

‘would feel irresponsible asking if you were not sober’

‘how sweet’

‘I’ll be right over. I want to trash your house’

‘I did not invite you.’

Grian did not respond. Scar didn’t need to wait more than a minute before knowing he wasn’t going to. Fine then. Good to know he wasn’t the only person here that was fucked in the head.

And ten minutes later, Grian was knocking at his door. Knocking continuously, obnoxiously, until he seemed to remember Scar had a doorbell, and then he focused most of his energy on ringing that a thousand and one times. By the time Scar made it to the door, Grian had evolved his strategy to do both at the same time. Scar flung the door open to a smug looking Grian, and promptly slammed it in his face the moment he moved to step inside. The muffled yelp through the wall was deeply satisfying, and when Scar reopened the door, Grian was cradling his nose. Scar couldn’t help but crack a smirk.

“Not so smug now, are you?”

Grian opened his mouth to speak, once again moving to step forward, but Scar slammed the door closed again, pushing with his whole body in the case Grian tried to stop it with his hand, then cackled when Grian yelped a second time, his shoes scuffing on the pavement outside.

“You are SO childish!”

“And you’re a damn bore.” Scar began to open the door once more, but was surprised when Grian burst through it, grabbing Scar by the collar and yanking him down so hard their heads collided, both of them reeling, but Grian not letting go. The silence was long as they both recovered, heads still close enough that Scar could smell Grian’s ragged breaths.

“You.” Grian pushed out through gritted teeth, “Smell nice.”

Ah! So he must have washed his hair after all. “Just showered,” Scar said simply, and Grian sniggered, glaring through narrowed eyes.

“For me?”

“Not quite. Just had to after touching you, makes me feel dirty. Doesn’t matter how often you shower, you’ll never stop smelling like fish-“ Scar didn’t quite get to finish, Grian slamming him against the wall opposite of the front door, which, by the way, was still wide open.

“I wonder how long it’ll take you to start smelling like manure again. Guess we’ll find out when you start to sweat.”

“I suppose we will. Mind closing the door?”

“What, afraid someone’ll see you getting your teeth kicked in?”

“Yes, actually, I’d rather not have the police called on us, thank you very much.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Fuck off.” Scar shoved hard, and Grian stumbled back against the amour by the door, knocking the keybowl clattering to the floor. Scar shut the door, eying Grian smugly, “Did you really think I wasn’t letting you hold me? Come on G, you’re not that strong.”

Grian huffed, lunging for his arms instead of answering, and the next few moments were spent fighting over wrists, grabbing and pulling and yanking for any kind of control. Scar hit another wall, just barely tackling Grian under a punch. But Scar couldn’t quite drag him to the ground like he so desperately wanted, and fell hard as Grian kneed his stomach, stealing his air. Scar did end up getting his wish of taking this to the floor, but instead with Grian’s hands like vices around his wrists and the wind knocked out of him. Not.. ideal.

“One minute,” he wheezed, and Grian snickered, digging his nails around Scar’s wrists.

“Did someone get more than he bargained for?” Grian cooed, “You’d look so pretty with a black eye, don’t you think?” Grian raised his fist, but Scar just barely caught it before it could collide with his face, his own hand still smashing painfully against his nose.

“Aren’t you just a little flirt today?” Scar sneered, yanking Grian’s arm down and throwing the rest of him off balance, then kicking him into the opposite wall.

“No,” Grian grunted, gritting his teeth as Scar shoved him up by his arms, shoulders battering the wall, “I just tell it like it is. Whether or not you think it’s flirting is a you problem.”

“Alright,” Scar huffed, shaking out his hair. He lifted Grian off the wall and slammed him back against it, pinning him harshly against his chest, “Then I think you look quite nice yourself, hunched over and panting like a dog.” Scar narrowed his eyes, dark. “Just telling it like it is.”

Grian kissed him. It wasn’t nice, nor was it pretty, and Scar was too startled to even move against it, only jerking back after another moment.

“What the fuck was that?” Scar spat, new anger coiling in his gut, but Grian didn’t flinch, eyes narrow and even.

“Whatever you want it to be, I suppose.”

Well.

Scar had known the answer to that question for a while, hadn’t he? Grian’s lips were chapped, unpleasant to the touch, as he was sure his own were as well. But it wasn’t much of a problem, not as tongues collided, as Scar remembered every unpleasant sensation of making out with someone, still intoxicating all the same. Sick. They were both sick in the head, weren’t they? Scar was dizzy with it- actually, on second thought..

“Grian,” Scar breathed, forehead resting on Grian’s own, “We should probably.. get checked out by a doctor.. or something.”

“What?” Grian laughed, a breathy thing with little sound, “Like, for mental illnesses?”

“No, for concussions. But. Also that, probably,” Scar joined him in laughing despite himself, breathing heavily against Grian’s chest, and eugh, yeah no, he was definitely still dizzy, but at the same time..

“Maybe,” Grian’s lips grazed Scar’s cheek, settling around his jaw, still tender from when Grian had punched him. The bruise was dark the last time Scar had checked. “But I believe you promised me we’d get ‘very drunk’ earlier, and I haven’t forgotten. Where else have you bruised I wonder,” Grian mumbled, pressing a kiss to the tender skin. Scar whined, looking away, and Grian giggled, pressing light kisses to his throat instead.

“That’s.. dangerous.”

“You think I’m dangerous, Scar?” Grian pushed impossibly close, and despite being the one on top, Scar felt as trapped as if he’d been pinned.

“Well, yes,” he admitted, suddenly feeling a bit shy, moreso when Grian giggled against his neck, “I was still talking about the concussions though. And drinking. Y’know.”

“Hm,” Grian considered him thoughtfully, though it was a bit distracting to feel the vibrations against his skin, “You make a good point.” Grian paused, lips gliding to the corner of Scar’s own, “Then whatever you decide, I’ll follow. Personally, I’d love to wake up tomorrow regretting today.” Grian’s fingers trailed up Scar’s side, thumb brushing below his shirt and making him shiver.

“Likewise,” Scar murmured, letting Grian trail soft kisses across his jaw, “Well.. Let’s see where this goes, hm?” With the way Grian was looking at him, Scar was starting to get a pretty good idea of exactly where this was going, and he didn’t have a single complaint. “Yeah,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “Let’s make a mess.”

pinglist (just ask if you’d like to be added): @dakotas-hermitblr-pogg

[avastrasposts]

The British Connection - ch. 7

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Butcher had left Eve’s flat the previous evening with more questions than answers after seeing the CCTV coverage of the attacks on the two UK politicians. Together they’d rewatched all the footage available, the two original attacks and the two later ones, but no matter how many times they watched it they came to the same conclusion; somehow the supe is controlling his victims with eye contact and potentially physical contact. But neither video gave them any clues to the identity of the supe. 

Finally, calling it a night at 2 am, Butcher left Eve’s place to get a few hours of sleep, the only plan they have is to get the CCTV footage from US attacks too and hopefully question the Deputy Secretary of the Department of Treasury, the one remaining person the supe controlled who’s still alive. Hopefully Mallory can provide both. 

The next morning Eve headed over to the Flatiron building to meet Butcher and the team again. She hadn’t slept well. A combination of demons crawling around her head when she tried to relax, made sleep difficult. When she got to the office she was grateful for the large coffee MM handed her as she said good morning to them. 

Butcher hasn’t turned up yet so she sinks down on the old sofa next to Kimiko when Frenchie offers her the seat. 

“Bonjour, mademoiselle Edwards, please, sit,” Frenchie ushers her to the seat next to the Japanese girl and perches himself on an upturned crate next to them with a big smile. 

“Monsieur Charcuterie is not ‘ere yet but, mais tu parles français? You speak French, oui?”

“Oui, j'ai appris le français à l'école, we started in Year 1. Marseille, non?

“Oui, oui,” Frenchie replies with a delighted smile, “you heard my accent?” 

“Our teacher was from Marseille. But you call Butcher, Monsieur Charcuterie? Not Monsieur Boucher?” 

“Why, what’s the difference?” Hughie asks, he’s also got a big coffee in hand. 

“Boucher is Butcher,” Frenchie says, “But charcuterie is the preparing of the meat, the cooking of the…charc?” He looks at Eve for the translation. 

“The flesh,” she says. “Charcuterie translates into cooked flesh.” 

“Oui! And this is what Monsieur Charcuterie does, he does not butcher, he cooks the flesh.”

“Ok, that’s a disturbing notion at 9:15 in the morning, Frenchie,” Hughie wrinkles his nose. 

Kimiko taps Eve on the arm and gestures to her notepad, James Bond is MI6? 

Eve reads the notes and laughs. “Yes, he’s supposed to be Mi6 but don’t believe Hollywood. I’ve done this job for many years now and not once has that included martinis in a casino,” Eve pulls a face at an unpleasant memory, “Although I did once spend five weeks working in a bar, but that was more Jäger shots and vomit cleanup than cocktails.”

“Sounds better than being covered in blood and gore,” Hughie says, “You don’t want to know what this job can literally throw at you.”

“Last year we crashed a speed boat into a whale,” Frenchie nods, “petite Hughie here ended up inside it with MM and Monsieur Charcuterie.”   

“A speed boat into a whale?” Eve says, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“Ye, it was fuckin’ diabolical,” Butcher says, pushing the door closed behind himself, “Don’t give away all our secrets now, Frenchie.” 

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you actually manage to crash into a whale?” 

“Easy, you point the front of the boat at the cunt supe standin’ on top of it and give the engine full throttle,” Butcher gives a wicked grin. 

“I’ll feel like I should probably sign an NDA to hear the rest of this story,” Eve replies.

“Ye, best not ask too many questions,” Butcher says, “things might get redacted. Which brings me to me first point of order this morning.” Butcher steps up to the sofa and glares down at Eve. 

“Who the fuck is the fuckin’ Honourable Genevieve Horatia Daphne Byng Edwards? And who the fuck is your dear old daddy?” 

Eve looks up at Butcher for a few seconds. He’s towering over with a nasty look on his face, staring down at her with a sneer. “I’m going to guess you’ve seen my file then?” she says and pushes herself up, forcing Butcher to back up, but still bearing down on her. 

“Ye, I had to fuckin’ threaten Mallory but eventually she gave it up. Didn’t seem like she, CIA or the MI6 cunts at Vauxhall were too keen on me finding out who you actually are. Half your bleedin’ file’s been censored. But I did some digging this morning. Your name ain’t exactly run of the mill, darlin’.” 

He takes a step closer to her, she can feel the rage coming off him like heat. “Like I told you yesterday, I need all the information. But you and the fuckin’ MI6 is expecting me to risk me bleeding neck for some upperclass cunt like you? For what, a plot at Brookwood?” 

“I’ve given you all the information we need for this assignment, Butcher,” Eve says, “Who I am has nothing to do with the job at hand and doesn’t affect my performance in the field.” 

“It bloody well does, when the supe’s second victim was your dear old daddy and the girl who did the killin’, was your niece. Are you gonna stand there and tell me that seeing your niece slice her own throat won’t affect your performance in the field?” 

Eve has gone pale and she drops her gaze away from Butcher’s. He lowers his voice into a menacing growl, “Your niece didn’t get hit by a bus, she ripped your father’s throat out and then sliced her own neck open with an 8 inch blade, bleeding out on your brother’s patio.” 

“Butcher, that’s enough!” MM snaps, looking at Eve. She’s sunk down on the sofa again, her head is in her hands, as if she’s trying to block Butcher’s words.  

“No!” Butcher snarls at MM, “She’s withheld crucial information from us while asking us to go after an unknown supe to get her own revenge.”

“Yeah, Butcher, doesn’t that remind you of someone?” 

“Fuck off, MM, it ain’t the fuckin’ same!” 

“We’ve all got skin in this game, Butcher, it’s what fucking drives us. Yeah, she should’ve told us but that doesn’t make her any worse than you or me or Hughie for that matter.”

“I should’ve told you,” Eve says, her voice low, still cradling her head in her hands, “But I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to not think about her,” She looks up at Butcher, her jaw is clenched firm, “I’m trying to be just the soldier, not her aunt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you really didn’t need to know those details. It was easier to block it when you and Mallory didn’t know.” 

“Oh ye, speaking of Mallory,” Butcher growls, “The file she got from Vauxhall is unreadable. Half the fuckin’ file is blacked out and redacted.” Butcher kneels down in front of the sofa so he’s level with Eve’s face and his face has a menacing grin. “I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what those blacked out parts say. And if I catch you in a fuckin’ lie again, I’m going straight to Vauxhall and I’m telling them all the classified info you so generously shared yesterday.” 

“Fuck you, Butcher, “ Eve says through gritted teeth. 

Butcher keeps grinning and stands up, “On your feet soldier. Hughie!” He turns to Hughie, “Hook the laptop to the big screen and plug this in, it’s Ms Edwards file, she’s going to walk us through it real nice and slow.” 

Hughie sets up the laptop and the file from Mallory’s USB stick appears on the big screen in the office. Eve gets up off the sofa and walks over to the desk while Butcher tabs through the security clearance briefing until he gets to the page with her personal info. He glances over his shoulder as Eve approaches him from behind. “I’m gonna assume you’ve still got that knife up your sleeve, darlin’,” he says. “Just don’t try anything, you only get the drop on me once.”

“Yes, I was just thinking the same, Butcher,” Eve replies with a dark look at him. 

“Now, don’t get all vindictive on me, Ms Genevieve, or is it M'lady? I ain’t quite up to date on the correct form of address of the upper classes and all that palaver,” Butcher gives her his best shit eating grin and waves her in front of the big screen. “Let’s begin shall we?” 

“Now, all this early bollocks we can skip I’d say, except maybe this bit,” Butcher tabs through the unredacted pages covering the beginning of her career and pauses on a page that’s blacked out. “What’s this? Injured in 2003 and a big gap in your resume all redacted?” 

Eve sighs, “That has nothing to do with the present day situation.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, luv, spill it,” Butcher smirks. 

“Fine, have it your way,” Eve snaps at Butcher, “In the 90’s my father served as a judge in Northern Ireland, he moved the family over there too. He handled a number of high profile cases, putting several paramilitary leaders in The Maze.” 

“The Maze?” MM interrupts. 

“A British prison in Northern Ireland, used mainly for paramilitary prisoners during the conflict.” Eve explains. “It was a dangerous assignment, the paramilitary groups hated the occupying British forces and as a judge my father was a prime target for them. But after the Good Friday Agreement, and the ceasefire in -98, things calmed down. I had already moved back to England by then but my parents and my younger brother stayed in Northern Ireland.” 

Eve rakes her fingers through her hair, “Dad’s security detail was removed, no more bomb checks or safe houses were needed, the paramilitary groups had given up their weapons and The Maze had been closed. But some people never forgot. And in 2003 a break away paramilitary group broke into my parents home. Dad was away in London on a last minute trip or they would’ve probably only taken him. Instead they took my mother and youngest brother, Edward.”

Eve pauses and takes a deep breath, walking away from the table. “Butcher,” Hughie says, “is this really necessary, how is this relevant?” 

“She’ll tell us and then we’ll know if it’s relevant or not,” Butcher barks, “Go on,” he scowls at Eve. 

“They couldn’t get hold of my father, so they rang me. Told me that I need to get my father over to Ireland within 48 hours or they’d kill them,” Eve clenches her jaw, “They kneecapped my brother while I was on the phone so that I would hear it.” 

Even Butcher winces and MM puts his hand out and squeezes Eve’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, that’s fucked up.” 

“Frenchie,” Hughie whispers, “Kneecapped?”

Frenchie motions putting a gun to Hughie’s knee and pulling the trigger. 

“It’s always been the paras favourite way of punishing people,” Eve says, turning back to the table. 

“I tried going the official way, asking my CO at the time for a team but it was a no go. As far as MI6 was concerned, Northern Ireland and Ireland were off limits. Any operation could potentially derail the peace process. So I went the unofficial route and called in favours. Two of the men I’d served with the previous year came through and we set a trap at the drop off point just across the Irish border. When they came for my father, we wiped them out.” 

“How many?” Butcher asks. 

“Six hostiles, one civilian and one of ours. Jack didn’t make it, I was injured and Cochran pulled me out. He was one of the two with me,” Eve looks over the rest of the team, “Cochran is my Commanding Officer back in London these days.” 

“And your family?” Butcher asks, his voice softer now. 

“They weren’t there. I don’t think the paras meant to hand them over at all. Both my mother and brother were found a day later in a ditch outside Crossmaglen. Kneecapped and executed.”

Eve goes silent, and not even Butcher speaks. 

Eventually Eve draws a deep breath, as if she’s been biting down on tears, and continues, “I was demoted, almost discharged. Spent the next 18 months in rehab, officially, but unofficially I was out in the cold on desk duty sorting paper clips. I was eventually brought back in because there was suddenly a desperate need for operatives who could speak Arabic and Farsi after the July 7th attacks in 2005.” 

MM pushes himself up from the filing cabinet he’s been leaning on, “So, if I’ve got this right, you go off and do your own thing, using MI6 personnel and material I assume, to save your family. One of your men is killed and MI6 finds out about the whole operation and you’re punished, right?”

“Right.” 

“But why is that part censored and how’s it connected to the present day?” 

“To hide my connection to Viscount Torrington, my father. If you don’t know that our family name is Byng, you won’t make the connection. And if you don’t make the connection you won’t question the decision to have an operative with, as you said, skin in the game.” 

She looks over at Butcher, “MI6 doesn’t trust me, they think I’ll treat this as a personal mission again. But Cochran trusts me and the redactions are his way of protecting me.”

“What does MI6 think you’ll do?” he asks. 

“Kill the supe. With your help.” 

“And what does MI6 want you to do?” 

“Capture the supe, bring him back to the UK without letting the CIA get their hands on him.” 

“Million dollar question then, luv,” Butcher grins, “What do you wanna you do?” 

“Kill him,” Eve says flatly. 

“But Cochran is banking on you following MI6 orders?” Butcher crosses his arms and gives Eve a hard look, “You’re gonna betray the trust of the one man at MI6 who’s protecting you? You do that and you’re out of a job, darlin’.” 

“She was my niece and she was eight years old. I want to find the man who did that to her and I want him dead,” Eve says with a determined voice, staring at Butcher. 

“You better fuckin’ mean that, because when we find this cunt, you’d better not get in my way.” 

“Butcher, if I need to, I’m going through you to get him.” 

Chapter 8

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 51-55

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 49-50 here

***

16. You drive me so insane, you don’t even know.”

39. "Tell me how you like/want/need it.”

46. “Wanna feel you against me.” (slightly modified for characterization purposes)

48. “Clothes on or clothes off?”

93. “Gonna make sure you don’t forget about tonight.”

110. "Do whatever you want with me."

118. “S-Stop leaving marks on my neck. I have a presentation first thing in the morning.” “Then I get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”

***

Tim was busy over the next couple of days, because the surveillance he’d planted at Waters’s house proved to be a gold mine of information. He and Galloway were high up on the food chain with their respective creditors’ organizations. Waters had ties to the Irish mob, and Galloway was in deep with the Russians. Both had a history of leaving bills unpaid, so it was no surprise that some of the debts they’d incurred would leave them owing more than money. What was more surprising, in a way that didn’t leave Tim with much shock at all, was the fact that they didn’t seem to mind being at the beck and call of criminals as long as they got the benefits of the trafficking as well. And they did reap plenty of benefits: building permits issued with almost no wait, real estate deals that made no sense on paper, weapons collections that would have made a warlord proud, and of course a never-ending supply of humans to exploit and use as capital.

Tim watched the video footage of Waters fucking a model-beautiful woman on his desk in his study, and all he could see was the deadness in Luz’s eyes.

Damian texted him while he was on patrol three days after the Closet Incident (it had earned a title and upper-case letters, after being looped in Tim’s brain on repeat like a favorite movie). Tim, in the middle of watching over an underpass that had seen a few houseless people murdered during the past month, pulled out the phone and nearly dropped it onto the road below when he read the sender’s name.

Do you have anything new to report?

Tim snorted, imagining what Damian would do if he replied with his first impulse, which was “yes, your dick is now living rent-free in my thoughts at all times.” Instead: have u been watching the surveillance footage?? good stuff, disgusting stuff lots of info

I have not. Is there a reason why you refuse to use upper-case letters? I've wondered.

Tim grinned. Maybe it was a League-trained thing. 

convenience 

I suppose, but at some point you've done more to keep things lowercase than you would have if you'd just let autocorrect do what it likes.

jason's told me the same thing more than once

Be that as it may your point stands. We should consider next steps if you feel we have actionable intel.

do u and jason want to come over to my place again? it might be the best use of our time right now to coordinate our plans in person rather than via video call

Perhaps. My WE schedule is demanding at the moment. I'll see if we can align times.

ok lmk 

Tim put away his phone and concentrated on proving to himself through measured breathing that he was completely unaffected by the prospect of having Damian in his space again. It didn't matter. He'd had random hookups before with weird choices. The fact that he couldn't get Damian's voice, low and intimate, saying let me feel it, out of his head meant nothing. Neither did the forever pain in his chest and stomach. That was just how he lived now.

Well, at least Jason would be there. That would keep him from doing anything stupid. Probably.

Given the fact that they'd fully gotten each other off with Jason on the other end of a precariously deactivated comm, maybe not. Fuck. He was already starting to get hard just thinking about it.

An Audi parked a few hundred feet away from the encampment beneath the bridge and five men got out, voices loud and abrasive in a way that screamed "drunk frat boys" even if he couldn't have seen the Greek symbols on the bumper sticker. They ran toward an old man huddled in a cardboard box against the slanted concrete, and Tim leaped down to join them, grateful for the distraction.

*** 

Damian texted Tim and Jason together the next day while Tim was at work: I will be available this afternoon after 5:30. Will your schedules permit a meeting at 6?

Yeah, I can make that, Jason replied.

Tim swallowed and typed, i'll meet u both at my place then

Capitalization, Damian replied, at the same time Jason's message came through: Punctuation, dammit!

i am free as the wind and so is my text style u plebes just dont understand my aesthetique

Both of them left the conversation simultaneously, and Tim smiled in triumph. He wasn't sure what was so fun about making those two mad, but whatever it was definitely sparked joy.

Tim had contracted for R&D at WE for a couple of years now, ever since he'd finally gotten his degree, but it was mainly a front for funneling the research and products with the greatest potential for Bat-exploitation to the right places. He typically spent at least half his time on the clock doing casework, and the other half doing the same work that took most of the other people in his department twice as long. He almost never saw Damian, who tended to stay firmly in the finance department. Out of idle curiosity, he checked Damian's calendar on WEdrive. His entire day was packed with meetings from the moment he got in until he left, for the rest of the week. He didn't even have a lunch break today. Bruce was such a fucking slacker. Of course, Damian had probably demanded extra responsibilities as the "blood heir" or whatever. 

Tim opened his meal delivery app and put in an order for dinner. He didn't feel like cooking, i.e. pouring cereal, tonight.

Once he got home, he changed out of his suit into sweats and sat on the couch to wait, flipping through the video feeds in Waters' house. The devices he'd planted in the escorts' bags hadn't been much help as neither woman had done anything but take their purses back to where they lived. Luz’s conversations at home were boring mundanities, and Katerina’s device had been mysteriously deactivated, but at least he had their addresses now. And possibly those of clients if they attended anything else that required a fancy clutch.

Damian showed up first, this time, still in his work clothes. Tim immediately suffered an overpowering urge to unbutton his custom Italian suit and lick his neck, which was horrifying enough to kick his best acting instincts into gear. He decided to aim for nothing of note has happened between us, ever, and gave Damian a friendly smile as he closed the door. "Hey. How's it going?"

Damian rolled his eyes and kicked off his shoes. "Spare me the useless civilities, Drake. 'It' was a grinding bore today, filled with incompetent idiots who insisted on projecting their own lack of efficacy onto me, and then had the gall to be shocked when I proved to be far out of their league in both intellect and influence."

"So, everyday WE business meetings, then. Somebody's hangry."

Damian scowled, but before he could reply the door speaker buzzed. Tim glanced at the camera and saw the delivery guy holding up the restaurant bag. He pressed the speaker button. "Leave it at the door, thanks."

He ran downstairs while Damian was still grumbling about him daring to order food for himself, and by the time he returned Jason had come in by some entrance that Tim was going to have to eliminate in the near future.

He started putting containers on the table. "I got enough food for all of us if you guys are hungry. Plates are in the cabinet on the right of the fridge and forks are in the island drawer."

"Fuck yeah I'm hungry, I just got up." Jason ambled to the kitchen and got the plates and utensils while Damian looked down his nose at the containers.

"I suppose all the dishes contain meat." He couldn't entirely hide his interest as Tim popped lids open, leaning over to inspect contents.

"I mean, a couple do, but a lot are vegetarian." Tim pointed as he listed them. "Potato pakoras, haleem, fruit chaat, samosas, aaloo gobi, aaloo qeema, paneer tikka masala, vegetable biryani, and of course the raita."

Damian flushed the faintest bit. Jason set the plates down on the table. "Where'd you get this? I didn't know there was a Pakistani restaurant in town."

"Al Noor," Damian and Tim said simultaneously. Damian flushed a darker red and continued, avoiding Tim's eyes, "It is actually one of my favorites. It reminds me of home, a little."

Jason picked up one of the chapli kebabs and bit into it without waiting to put anything else on his plate. "Oh hell yes," he moaned around the mouthful. "Timmers, you got enough to feed the whole fam and the pets too, what's up with that?"

"I got enough to feed two normal appetites plus you," Tim retorted, putting a little bannu pulao on his plate. He wasn’t really hungry yet—on night job days he usually didn’t eat for the first time until noon, and his last meal was after his patrol.

"Fuck you, I've got muscle mass you can only dream of." Jason got some of everything and sat down at the table. “By the way, who gave you that bite on your neck? Conner doesn't usually leave marks so I'm guessing someone new. C’mon, your secret's safe with me and Damian.”

Tim reached for the bruise before he could stop himself. “None of your business.”

"Todd, your table manners are as abominable as your self-restraint," Damian interpolated, sneering at Jason's perfectly respectable use of knife and fork. After a long pause in which he visibly almost said about five different things and changed his mind each time, he added, "Thank you, Drake, for getting the food," still not looking directly at Tim.

Tim spun around to hide his burning face. His first thought was a nonsensical oh shit, Damian knows, to which he could only ask his brain, knows what, dumbass? He hustled to open the fridge and grab three bottles of water, as if he always turned that fast so he could run retrieve fluids. "No problem," he called from behind the door.

When he set the bottles on the table, Jason was looking from him to Damian and back again. Tim didn't like the assessing expression on his face, and he especially didn't like that Jason was allowing him to see it. This was the worst part of being surrounded by people who'd been trained by Bruce "The World Only Makes Sense If You Force It To" Wayne. You couldn't have a private emotion, ever, without someone feeling the overpowering need to track it down to its source.

Damian spoke before Tim could spill a container on Jason's lap and distract him. "Have you heard from Arsenal lately?"

That diversion successfully embarked Jason on a tangent for about fifteen minutes. Tim knew better than to glance at Damian to share a relieved look while Jason ranted about Roy's selfless tendencies and how they endangered his life. Still, a glow flared to life in his chest when he watched, out of the corner of his eye, Damian sitting next to him and eating food Tim had bought for him. Some of the constant pain receded in its warmth.

Once they were done eating, they each brought out their laptops and compared notes on the footage. Damian hadn't had a chance to view most of it, so Jason and Tim gave him the highlights. He had managed to dig further into the Galloway's and Waters's financials, so he gave them a list of the probable beneficiaries of the inconsistencies between income and expenditure.

Jason sighed as he scrolled through the names and companies. "Looks like I'm heading to Tulsa and Corpus Christi. Love it when I get to have fun with not one, but two mafias."

"I can go instead," Tim offered, looking through the same document as he twisted the top off his bottle.

"Nah, it's okay. I can't be in Gotham too many weeks in a row or I'll kill Bruce, and you know how he feels about murder. Fucker'll haunt my ass just so he can lecture me every time I pull a gun on some piece of shit dealer."

Tim, mid-drink, had a sudden vision of ectoplasmic Bruce floating from Jason's butt like an asshole-obsessed Casper and nearly choked when he started laughing involuntarily.

Jason stared, aghast, as he sprayed water all over their computers. "Holy shit, Tim, it wasn't that funny!"

Damian, ever helpful, smacked Tim's back a few times hard enough to leave bruises, expression bored. "Clearly he pictured Father literally selecting your buttocks as his postmortem residence, Todd. His brain's operations are incomprehensibly juvenile, but if you choose the most ridiculous option you can often divine what he was thinking."

"Sorry," Tim gasped, jumping up to get a seldom-used kitchen towel off its hanger. Some days his mind really had it out for him. He couldn't help it that when he was stressed it decided to interpret every idiom as a visual. "Sorry!"

Jason narrowed his eyes as he watched Tim carefully dab at their keyboards. WE laptops were all water resistant, but there was no sense in being foolhardy. "You've been off all evening. Something going on I need to know about?"

Tim ran through various possible responses in the time it took him to hand some paper towels to Damian to dry the floor. He decided to play it casual. "No, nothing. I just have my attention split in too many directions right now between this, work, and patrol. But this case is my real priority at the moment so don't worry. I wanna put all these guys away for life."

Jason nodded, but Tim had a feeling he wasn't satisfied with the explanation.

They made a few more plans for the immediate future of the investigation, and then Jason packed up to leave. Tim walked him to the door.

"How'd you get in, by the way?"

Jason smirked. "Bet you'd love to know."

Tim gave him an unimpressed look. "I'd love to know why you're such a pain in my ass, too, but I guess I'm not getting any of the answers I want tonight."

Jason leaned in close enough that Damian wouldn't be able to read his lips. Tim stiffened, wary. Jason said, sotto voce, "Timmers, I'm starting to think that's not the kind of pain in your ass you want. Don't think I missed the fact that the baby bat is hanging back until I've left you two alone again. Used to be, he couldn't wait to get away from you."

Tim stared, eyes wide with dismay, and couldn't say a thing.

Jason straightened, wicked grin firmly in place, and caroled, "Byeeeeee!" before slamming the door in Tim's face.

"What did he say?" Damian wanted to know, because of course it would've been too much to ask of the universe for him not to have noticed.

Tim was too discombobulated to say anything other than the truth. "He knows something's going on with us. I don't think he knows what, yet."

"Well, that makes two," Damian said.

Tim leaned his back against the door and looked at him, sitting cross-legged on the couch as if he couldn't be more at ease. "I don't know, either, so it's three."

Damian smiled, perfunctory and cutting. "Did you think I meant myself? I don't waste time speculating about inconsequentialities."

Tim surveyed him for another second in silence, then snorted with genuine amusement. "Oh, you are so completely full of shit right now. You think I'm going to believe that after what happened in Waters's closet?"

Damian shrugged and checked his phone with conspicuous boredom. "I barely remember 'what happened', personally. Perhaps I had too much to drink at the after party. If you've got a clearer recollection it must be because it mattered to you in a way it didn't to me."

A sudden blaze of fury burned away Tim's lightheartedness. He stalked to the couch, ripped the phone out of Damian's hand, and threw it to the loveseat opposite.

Damian didn't balk, but he did snap, "What the hell do you think you're—" His words cut off with a sharp inhale as Tim straddled him and yanked his head back by his hair.

"It's either kiss you or punch you at the moment, and frankly this hurts my knuckles a lot less," Tim hissed. “Maybe if you try really hard you can make it matter enough for both of us to remember this time.” He kissed him with a vicious edge of teeth.

Damian went stiff and unresponsive beneath him. For one awful moment, Tim thought he had read the situation entirely wrong, and horror slid down his spine like an ice floe. He jerked away, ready to babble apologies and then die in a corner of shame somewhere.

Before he could go anywhere, Damian's hands shot out and grabbed his upper arms. "Don't you dare." He pulled Tim back into his lap.

Rage faded in the relief of not having hurt him. Tim sat again, unresisting, hands braced against his chest. "Do you want—"

"Do whatever you want with me." Damian wrapped his arms around Tim and drew him close against his own shoulder, in the process conveniently hiding his expression from Tim's view.

Tim decided to let him get away with it and pressed his face to Damian's jaw. His fingers found their tentative way to play with the ends of his hair. He was still shaken, enough so that he felt the need to be explicit. "Tell me how you want it. Please. Clothes on or clothes off?"

Damian tugged on his t-shirt. "I want to feel you against me."

Tim let him pull the shirt over his head. He started working on the knot in Damian's tie while Damian untied the drawstrings of his pants. "You're wearing too many things." He couldn't seem to catch his breath.

Damian pulled Tim’s sweats down to his thighs. "Unfortunately, I can't dress for work with the sole priority of being instantly accessible to your touch."

Tim’s brain turned to white noise for a second, blindsided by the wave of sheer possessive yes that crashed through him at the notion. He freed the tie from Damian's collar with unsteady hands and stood up to kick off his pants entirely, along with his underwear. Damian sprawled below him, looking like a perfume ad with his disheveled hair, rumpled unbuttoned shirt, and clear bulge in his tailored pants. Not to mention the sulky mouth.

"Christ. You drive me so insane, you don’t even know." He gripped the top of Damian's shirt and used it to throw Damian down on his back on the couch, a maneuver that wouldn't have worked if Damian hadn't cooperated. Straddling his hips again, he hurriedly ripped the buttons out of their holes, exposing Damian's chest to his perusal. “Gonna make sure you don’t forget about tonight.”

Damian grabbed his hips and ground Tim's ass down, against his own erection. "What a promise. How do you intend to deliver?"

Tim ducked to suck on his neck with enough force to bruise. "I've got a few ideas and zero champagne, so we're already halfway there." Something about having Damian's skin between his teeth was unbearably satisfying.

Damian moved restlessly beneath him, hands clutching and releasing over and over again. “S-Stop leaving marks on my neck. I have a presentation first thing in the morning.”

Tim smiled into his collarbone. “Then I get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”

Damian pulled his own head back so their gazes could meet. "Yes."

day 56 here

[dannyreviews]

I Am Celine Dion (2024)

Two weeks ago, Celine Dion managed with all her strength to steal the show at the Olympic Opening Ceremony amidst her bout with Stiff Person Syndrome. Whether this performance turns out to be her swan song or not, it shows the courage that she had to appear in front of the entire world. The new documentary "I Am Celine Dion" is an up close look at the diva as you've never seen her before, and my reaction is to see her in her prime instead.

The documentary opens in 2021 when Celine is coming to terms with her recent diagnosis of Stiff Person Syndrome. She has had to cancel an upcoming Vegas residency to her dismay, but her lack of strength and lethargic singing has forced her away from the stage. However, Celine is not one to stay at home and away from the public eye. She makes online appearances, cuts a song or two and dubs a film. Interweaved into the present are archive footage of her performances, old interviews and TV appearances and home videos of her with her late husband Rene and their three sons.

The average person wants to eavesdrop on their favorite celebrity, whether it's their home life or going out to dinner. But when it comes to them being sick and at their most vulnerable, it's nothing short of depressing. "I Am Celine Dion" should really be retitled "I Am Suffering" because for more than half of the film, we are subjected to her "poor poor me" mentality. I'm not putting her bout with the disease down, but when every other scene is about her saying how she can't perform or have a productive life interspersed with footage of the Celine Dion of the 1990s that took on the world, the content borders more on pathetic. Near the end of the film, we see Celine have a seizure during a physical therapy session. Talk about depressing the viewer even more when we've already been subjected to a wealth of TMI. I thought the documentary about Roger Ebert had its depressing moments, but at least with that film, there was a fine balance between the past and the present. With Celine Dion, we really don't get to know more of her upbringing, her big breaks, her marriage to Rene and collaborations with her peers. All we get is the soap opera aspect of her life, backed by a mix of opulence and narcissism.

There is one part of the documentary that put a smile on my face and that was Celine's admiration of Australia's Voice John Farnham, whose documentary "Finding The Voice" I recently reviewed. As a respite to the depressing content, we see Celine come alive as she views a Youtube video of Farnham performing his cover of The Beatles' "Help" and marveling over his singing and musicianship. If the Farnham documentary doesn't get him more exposure in the US, then Celene Dion's doc might do the trick. The segment concludes with Celine being interviewed for the Farnham documentary and footage of the two performing at one of her shows. I would also have liked to see more about her collaboration with French singer/songwriter Jean-Jacques Goldman who is only seen for a few seconds on film and is never mentioned by name once. Goldman is another legendary figure whose fame eluded American audiences and should have been given his due as well. How about mentions of her other collaborators like Quebecois singer Rene Simard or more well known singers like Barbra Streisand or Luciano Pavarotti? Again, we learn very little about Celine's past and that's what the audience should have been subjected to instead.

Going back to the Olympic Opening ceremony, I think it would have more prudent to put off releasing the documentary until after the ceremony and use the performance as an epilogue to leave the viewer with some hope for the future. Instead, the last line is Celine blurting out the following statement, "If I can't walk, I'll crawl". This could have been the portrait of a musical legend that gently broached upon her current health problems, but instead we get more of the baggage and less of the music.

6/10

[fkyumerica]

When you get too scared in a haunted house... Just dance!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeZPxrkkcA4 we found you aaron

Gigachad finds you in the backrooms (Found Footage)

Minions chase you in the backrooms (Found Footage)

popping noises

Jan 17, 2024, 6:59 AM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2jLkwlwFW8 and yea new york keep laughing about it

Burger King worker who went viral after receiving paltry gift bag buys home with donations

courtney said a woman attacked her when we were in kentucky

and her grandma

Jan 17, 2024, 7:28 AM

its called quiet

we saw a baby attack pile too

come on boys

all little league sports are it

they just move in

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/IaO6SyKL2vI they have anger problems and are gay and make all animals and people gay

How to LEGALLY catch ducks at the park @TheUrbanRescueRanch

he said it

and infant i wanna eat one theyre good always have that face for a nice date

and gay kid who cares too me

meat

marilyn monroe make it look like her and thats sex

orgasm

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/UV4wq70jQc0 here are some gay people

Big fails 😂😂😂 #shortsfails #shortvideo #failsvideo

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/IBk1UQ_dmWU switch for wwolf puppies for the show

A wolf cub lost in the forest finds a new home with a kind old man💕

gay animals charge

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsCiE_ARE9s wtf am i hanging out with

Music-Dance (Guitar cover and video overlay by ED)

and their mom anne marie

gave them all plastic surgery

and the old guy is the main guy that fucks all of them

he tells a group of them and injects one

get 15 girls

wigs

Jan 17, 2024, 11:12 AM

Jan 17, 2024, 11:53 AM

no one went to college

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfjBAdaUyO0 sell em both to get a husky

Husky Has STRANGE Reaction To Meeting DINOSAUR!

sell her to the company

come on

test her

Aaron

Aaron

All my animals are named after God's

Except kitty.... she's named after kitty

omg release them into the wild

i made them kind

atlas was like lasher

and put the giant piles up

like "india" festivals

when it was heaven

when they killed one in caligula he protected us from norio or silence

it was the church

they cut his head off

it was a giant blood wall face

and the moon

was his wife juno

they fucked up

The church cut his head off

no

gays did

they held his body up

two of them

The gays cut off God's head

then he had to take on 85 at once, caligula

and then walk to her with them on him

and his face was ripped off

by them

infants

indus was his name

it was kill indigenous people and they ended it

Jan 17, 2024, 1:07 PM

he better of faked his death

and juno released them

juno and carol killed him

jessica is juno

she married mark chapman

his legs got cut off

made three of him

ed, greg, and seth

got pregnant by three in high school again

then three more young

she was kathys mom with ed at three

then little house on the prarie

omfg

train cart turned into home

then anne marie and angela fucked theirs to the ground

came over had syringes of drugs

spend the night once

then we went to mimis and they attacked

grandma

and she had a gun

and put it to angelas head and said live with us

wtf

then her family members came over and had guns

then they took them away

and

animal cop after

new grandpa they lied

both pregnant wtf

5 and 3

both 5ft tall

1-3 nazi, 4 guerilla warfare, 5-9 black panther party, 10-15 fascist, ages

16 columbine

Jan 17, 2024, 3:12 PM

https://www.facebook.com/watch?v=1405340070111319 they lifted the flags like pride and prejudice

Michigan Football

Michigan Football National Championship Parade

Facebook

8 houses around me are smoking crack

lost the kids

hahahah

talk to the puppies to have a spot it might

be born with one

dim is anne marie put us in electro shock treatment

malcom was mick jagger shot her in the face

and she didnt die

https://www.facebook.com/watch?v=398242555890903 dim had about 20 keri anne majors

State Champs W

High School Cheerleading - Allen Park | 1/6/24

Facebook

only deedee could talk to him she was insane

hoss riding?

her little wonder?

they won state

lincoln park had like 4 girls screaming

come on!

i let them have a funner high school without me

mulan rouge moves noo

80s guitarist leg out

i kept screaming at david lee roth

i thought it was leon

his mom screamed at theirs while pregnant

same eyes to each other

to fool them dont do it

hoyl shit

they showed it

say who you went with and go back left

show the face

go back and say the next one

and the back flip left them all

they all lost their ffirst husband

when they gave birth at 3

same boat

black guys next didnt kill their families let them in america bleached

i dont know whose kids these were

i was friends with all of them

they wernt

i told them to be

be nice there thats it

and dont go

front three from left elise

https://www.facebook.com/watch?v=398242555890903 omfg pregnant kid movie

State Champs W

High School Cheerleading - Allen Park | 1/6/24

Facebook

woops

the mom in juno movie is in it

theres brian he would do it to kids

10 days together one house

we dont believe it what happened, dad left on a boat

jennifer garner

he would whip her away

her husband had to hide in the woods screaming

he knew when it happened, had three boys

fun day

dads would sit on a boat and have fuunn with themselves

miracles from heaven is the movie

moms would go shopping

his dad did it to be godzilla

the surgeon

joey

full house

and she went with danny after to be godzilla

oh shit gave her a mini dog

they would just keep giving them things they wouldent learn after

not a book or anything

education

a husband

whats for dinner

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (4)

I am sorry for not posting in a while. School is a total bitch. Here is part 4 of a fic that is not a fic.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)

-------

Tall Marinette.(I admit I might be projecting a little here.)

One day, she took out something from someplace high and the whole family realized that ‘holy shit when did you get so tall?’

Bonus if Jason comes back from a long mission and had a wtf moment because she was wearing 6-inch-heels and met his eyes with them on.

“Pixie?!”

------

You know how Bruce has the identity of Matches Malone to infiltrate the Gotham Underground.

While Jason does the drug deals more street crime stuff, Maria uses an excuse of being the representative for Red Hood excuse to mingle with the rich people who does crime on the side (Penguin), she uses it to go to black market auctions and buy some of the lost miraculouses which got into the hands of black market dealers.

Jason knows about it and acts as her ‘bodyguard’ anytime he can or sends one of his henchmen to be one with a death threat if she gets a single scratch on her.

Bruce is unaware of this. Or is he?

------

Mari helps with running WE since she is a little less busy with the vigilante side of things.

It started with Tim panicking about deadlines and Mari offering to help, to Bruce and Tim bullying the board to have her as co-CEO.

She has to be that and head of Afterlife. So she is very busy. Doesn’t know about what comes next….

------

Somehow the class comes to Gotham for a trip. It has been 3 years since her death.

Mari has changed her appearance since the day she left Paris. She has highlights in her hair after a ‘sibling bonding day’ with Jason. Her hair is kept short for convenience and not in pigtails. Along with her tall height and more confident aura, she is almost unrecognizable.

She rides a motorcycle too.

The class waits in the lobby for the tour and in walks this badass woman with aviator sunglasses, leather jacket and designer clothes which was all MT brand, making a lot of people swoon.

She takes off her glasses and walks past the class. Checking stuff on her phone and sipping coffee in her other hand.

She seems familiar but they couldn’t figure out why. (All except Chloe, Alix and Felix who are snickering in the background.)

Lila sees her and comments on how she must be a criminal with the way she dresses. (Lila internally freaks out because were her eyes messing with her? Because she looked a little like Marinette. Also jealous of the new arrival for stealing all the attention.) Alya takes the bait and calls security to ‘arrest’ her.

They just laugh. The class doesn’t understand, speaking in confused French.

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

“I am Maria Todd-Wayne, also known as designer MT. CEO of Afterlife and co-CEO of the very company you are in. I am allowed in here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said in perfect French.

“But Lila told us you can’t speak French.”

“Who?”

“Lila Rossi, your friend. She told us that you and MT were dating.”

“Me dating myself. Okay I love myself because self-love is a thing but that is a whole other level. MT are my initials. Anyone who has a brain could have figured that out or at the very least do a Google search. I am not sure where your friend got that notion.”

“Hey, Bean, come on. We have a long day ahead of us.” Tim reminded her.

“Goodbye but cease the rumours or you would be escorted off the premises.”

As they rode up the elevator, “Tim, why are they here?”

“They are the lucky winners of the Wayne Enterprise Young Prodigies Contest. Why, Maria?”

“Lucky, huh.” She muttered under her breath. She might as well tell him. They are the Bats and they will find out anyway. “They are from my old class, the one you know…”

“Oh. Want me to send them back? I can do that if they are making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Too much to deal with. And it is unfair to send them back over a petty grudge. Besides, I could have some fun.”

“Anything that Bruce and I should be worried about?”

“I swear no killing. Just because Jason came back from the dead, hell-bent on killing. Doesn’t mean I am too.”

“Cool, just don’t do any property damage or traumatize our employees.”

“I might need you to erase some footage later and tell Bruce about this.”

“Some brownies, my favourite coffee cake, the ‘special’ brew and you have yourself a deal.”

-----

So basically she just showed up around where the class was ‘by coincidence’.

Talk to a few people and take them out of earshot of the rest of the class.

End the conversation by saying a few things only they and her would know. Insides jokes and secrets. (I pick her old childhood friends like, Nino, Kim and maybe Sabrina)

Uses Trixx to turn into a walking dead version of her 15-year old self and disappears as they freak out about how she knew that secret/story.

Freaks them out further by appearing again in front of the whole class and pretending not to know their previous conversation.

Mari manages to get Lila alone.

I should also say that Lila thought that her curse was making her see MT as Marinette.

It terrifies Lila when she finds out that MT is actually Marinette, not dead but alive after all this time and apparently living the high life she wanted. This fact made the Italian swell up with jealousy.

“I hope you are not lying about me again, Lila Rossi. Like you always do.”

“What do you want with me? I swear I didn’t say anything else about you.”

“Aw, Lila. Don’t recognize me?”

Maria flickers and Ladybug is in her place and later, the Marinette that appeared in her bedroom and back to normal.

“You! How? Why are you here? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Why not? I mean you did take away nearly all my friends, my parents and made my life a living hell. If you think about it, I am just repaying you the same favor. How are the others? Treating you well?”

“What did you do to me, you bitch?”

“I just put a curse on you. The ghosts of your past will haunt you until you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop Lying, Liar. They all feed and grow in power from your lies. I wonder what would happen in a few years if you kept this up.”

“You think you can get away with this. This is war and I have already beaten you once.”

“Oh Rossi. This isn’t a war. It’s a death sentence.” With that she disappears.

Lila tries to tell her class that MT is actually Marinette. She is met with crazy looks. Some of them look like they want to believe her but don't because they don’t want to look crazy too.

Oh. Adrien wasn’t on the trip because his mother didn’t want him to go to the crime capital of America although the crime rate has gone down a little due to Hellbat curing some of the city’s bad energy..

Right after Lila told the class about MT, Scarecrow came to steal some Wayne tech and the class got caught in the crossfire. So later, it was brushed off as Lila seeing things due to the fear toxins.

-----

Joker made the mistake of kidnapping her. Once was enough to never try that again.

(It involved the use of nearly all of the Miraculouses, old and new. He was thoroughly humiliated at the end of it and his picture by the time Hellbat was done with him was on the Batfam’s Christmas Card. Like I said she doesn’t kill but making them beg for death was okay.)

It coincided with Jason’s Birthday and the video of the incident was ‘the best birthday present ever.’ The uncensored version was watched at the next undead siblings bonding day. Damian included.

After hearing a few rumours about what happened, most criminals were glad for Hellbat’s rare appearances. (which happens once a month and during really busy time of the year)

There was a time where Penguin was carrying out one of their plans and when Hellbat showed up, all of their thugs surrendered instantly. (No Batman did not pout at the fact that this French girl was more imitating than him.)

Scarecrow used his newest batch of fear toxin on her during the first year after she died.

He was astounded to see her still standing and she later proceeded to beat the crap out of him while being under the toxin’s influences.

He has tried to stay out of her way since then.

She saw Scarecrow as Hawkmoth and said a lot of things in French which scared everyone because she said it with so much hate, anger and in a very menacing tone that everyone is like ‘I am not touching this.’

It took Red Hood and Nightwing to restrain her from further beating Scarecrow up.

He was one of the people who sympathised with the Joker after the Incident.

The next was Riddler being so arrogant in his plans and managed to get Hellbat and Spoiler into a death trap.

“You know I have a few regrets in life. And my final one is that I got captured and am now going to get killed by a walking fashion disaster.”

“Hey! I made this myself. I will have, you know.”

“You have a brilliant mind but no sense of fashion at all. When I get out of here, I am going to burn that thing with you in it, for your crimes against fashion.”

“What is wrong with it?”

Cue a lot of roasting of Riddler’s costume and Spoiler adding more fuel to the fire.

They manage to escape while Riddler is crying on the floor, having an existential crisis.

The thing was no one knows why Riddler was silent the entire week after encountering Hellbat and crying when anyone mentions it.

They now think Hellbat is the scariest one in the Batfamily, second to Batman and tied with Black Bat/Orphan.

The few who find out what really happened in the warehouse that night. Blackmail material on the Riddler.

Three ( four if you count Penguin) of Gotham’s biggest villains of the Rogues Gallery scared of Bats’ newest addition. Hellbat was not someone they wanted to mess with.

---------

Magic crisis stuff. Like a world ending event thing. Dr. Fate says they need the Miraculous jewels but the last mention of them had been in Paris a few years ago and had vanished since then.

Costantine looked at Batman. “You know who you have to call.”

Batman calls Hellbat. Who hasn’t been introduced yet to the JL.

“Ah. Bats. Not that I question your authority or anything but how can your newest ‘ward’ help us?”

She takes off her helmet and reveals her face and more importantly, her earrings.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place.

“I am the current Guardian of the Miracle Box and wielder of the Ladybug miraculous during Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris a few years ago. Any other Questions?”

“Oh great Guardian. Tikki. It is an honour to meet you.”-Wonder Woman, who else.

“You too, Princess Diana. Pass on my regards to your mother.”-Tikki

A huge face-off and the big evil is defeated.

WW asks abt HM and gives a horrified face at the end of her story. Nearly everyone who eavesdropped on the conversation was.

"Forgive me, Guardian for not aiding you in your hour of need.”

“It’s okay. I understand that there are other crises, world-ending ones that JL have to take care of. I am better now. Mostly.”

“I doubt it with those revenge schemes I found lying around. But she is getting there with her therapist.”-Batman

“I hate you, Dad.”

“Did you just call him Dad?”

“No….”

“Do you see me as a father figure?”

“I see you as a nuisance with how nosy you are with my personal business. So you are more of a bother figure.”

“I see you as part of the family too, Daughter.” (Got that reference anyone?)

“Jason was the one who adopted me.”

“Legally you are adopted by me.”

Maria with Pikachu surprised face because nobody told her that. “My life is a lie.”

-------

(Part 5)

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[storiesforallfandoms]

tabloid bs ~ eminem

word count: 1822

request?: yes!

@imaginesforjohnnydepp​ “hi! i was wondering if you could do an age gap eminem x reader imagine where the reader is a singer and is the daughter of a very successful actor and singer and there are rumors of her parents not liking marshall making the rounds in the tabloids?”

description: in which she decides to shut down bullshit tabloid rumors regarding her boyfriend and her parents

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (totally legal though, we’ll say the reader is about 25)

masterlist (one, two)

Being the daughter of two incredibly famous actors meant you were in the spotlight from a young age. Paparazzi, crazy fans, fake friends, none of it was new to you by the time you decided you wanted to try your hand in singing.

You were nervous at first, worrying that either you’d only blow up because of who your parents were, or that everyone would shut down your career because of who your parents were. You were happily surprised to learn that everyone genuinely liked you and your music, despite your parentage.

As your career began to skyrocket, you were contacted by none other than Eminem asking to make a song with you. Apparently he was so impressed by your talent that he wanted to get in contact with you and ask you himself for a collab, something that he only did with people who ended up becoming close friends of his (Skylar Grey, Rihanna, 50 Cent, Ed Sheeran, etc. etc.).

You ended up following this trend, except in a much more extreme way. You did end up becoming close with him, but not as just a friend. Within a month of doing your collaboration you found yourself going on a date with Marshall, and within a year you were basically living with him.

The press had a field day when they found out. You were 20 years younger than Marshall, and he was only two years younger than your mom. Of course people didn’t react to kindly to this at first, but it wasn’t as hard to ignore these things as you expected it to be.

The thing that was hard to ignore, though, was the constant stories that were published about your parents hating Marshall, and hating your relationship.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. Your parents loved Marshall, both as a musician and as their daughter’s boyfriend. Your dad and Marshall got along really well, and your mom basically viewed him as a new best friend from the moment he walked through the door.

These rumors were harder to ignore when they were brought up so often in interviews and during livestreams or Q&As. You were starting to get annoyed with it and you wanted to make it stop.

Lucky for you, the person interviewing you at that moment gave you the perfect segway to shutting those rumors down.

“I know this is a bit of a private topic,” she started, “and if you don’t want to talk about it we can just move on, but there’s something circulating in the rumor mill regarding you and your boyfriend.”

“Of course there is,” you said, rolling your eyes in a playful manner. You were trying to remain lighthearted about it all, but you were feeling the annoyance bubble up inside of you already.

“There’s a story going around that you blew off your dad’s birthday because he wouldn’t let you bring Eminem to the celebration.”

You felt your face heating up with anger. Oh, so now the media was trying to present you as a bratty singer now too? Saying you skipped your own father’s birthday due to your boyfriend?

No, they were not getting away with that one.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and quickly opened it. The interviewer looked at you in confusion as you scrolled through your pictures before holding your phone towards the nearest camera.

“Here’s a picture of me and my dad two days after his birthday,” you said. “It was taken by Marshall, because the three of us had a special celebration alone. My flight home was delayed and I had to miss my dad’s actual birthday, in which my boyfriend was actually invited to, by the way. Dad specifically asked if Marshall would be coming, even jokingly told me that I had to take him. So no, I didn’t purposely miss my dad’s birthday because of my boyfriend, I would never miss dad’s birthday on purpose.”

“All you had to say was no,” the interviewer mumbled, regarding her notes to move along to the next question.

“No,” you said. “I’m not keeping this one short and sweet. I’m tired of all these stupid, untrue things being said about me and my boyfriend and my parents. Mom and dad don’t hate Marshall, I don’t purposely not see my parents because of him. There’s no hate at all between any of us, and it makes me angry that tabloids make those accusations without any evidence just for clicks. This is someone’s real life, not just some fiction for someone to fuck around with.”

“You sound very passionate about this.”

You scoffed. “Of course I am! Ever since Marshall and I have started dating people have been saying shit about him and my parents and I don’t understand why. There’s never been any ill will between my parents and Marshall, not even any implied ill will. People just like to make up stories so they have a good headline to get views and get people talking.”

“Well, although nothing has been ever been confirmed, you can’t say you don’t understand where those rumors came from. No one wants their kid dating someone who is basically their age, no matter how famous that person is. It’s only natural for a parent to be protective over their kid, especially from such an older person that may just be taking advantage of them.”

Your eyes were wide with shock. You could barley believe what this bitch was saying. She was really trying to spin the story and say that Marshall was trying to take advantage of you, a literal 25 year old adult?

You stood from my chair then and began trying to pull the microphone off of yourself. The interviewer looked at me with concern before trying to stop you.

“I’m done here,” you declared, pulling at the wire once I found it.

“You’re going to break the mic!”

“Send the bill to my people,” you retorted. “I’m not sitting here and having someone tell me that the guy I’m dating is trying to take advantage of me just because he’s older, or hearing you spill some bullshit about my parents. Newsflash: if someone is happy publicly with their relationship, then maybe they’re actually happy. No tragic behind the scene stories or ulterior motives, just two adults who are in love.”

You finally got the microphone off and basically threw it at the interviewer before turning and leaving the room.

~~~~~~

You stayed at Marshall’s place that night, still partially fuming from the interview. You didn’t tell him specifics (especially not that you walked out in a fury the way you did), but you told him it didn’t go well.

You were awoken the next morning to your phone ringing. When you checked it, you saw your dad’s face and name light up your screen. You groaned when you noticed how early the time was before answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning sweetie,” came your dad’s voice. “Have you been online yet?”

“I haven’t even been out of bed yet,” you responded. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You’re trending for walking out of your interview.”

You sat up in the bed so quickly that it woke Marshall. He rolled over and looked at you in confusion as you put your dad on speaker and started frantically opening your Twitter app.

“Dad, you’re on speaker. Marshall is here,” you told him as you started looking.

“Good morning, Marshall,” your dad said.

“Morning,” Marshall responded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on that has (Y/N) wide awake at 8am?”

“She’s trending.”

“For what?”

There it was, your name at the top of the trending list. When you clicked on it, the first thing that popped up was your interview from the day before.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I can’t believe they actually posted. It was so bad, I thought they’d just delete the footage and never think of it again.”

“You think too highly of people looking for a good scoop, honey.”

The title of the video read Singer (Y/F/N) Goes Off On Interviewer while Talking About Parents and Boyfriend Eminem. The entire interview was included, luckily enough, including everything leading up to your storm out. Marshall watched over your shoulder as your dad waited, silently, for you to see it all.

“You didn’t tell me what was said,” Marshall said. “Why didn’t you tell me they were saying that shit to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “I mean, it did matter, but by the time I got here I didn’t think it would matter anymore. Like I said, I thought the footage would be deleted and long forgotten.”

You were nervously biting at your nails as you scrolled through Twitter to see what people were saying. You were expecting a wave of hate and people believing that you truly were a bratty singer, until you started to see how much praise and love you were getting.

“Imagine trying to frame (Y/N) as the bad one in this situation when the interviewer literally said Eminem is trying to take advantage of her”

“Never believed those rumors about (Y/N)’s parents and Eminem. They’re all too tightknit for (Y/N) to date someone her parents hate”

“The way she told the interviewer to bill her for the broken mic that’s QUEEN SHIT”

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you said as you continued to read. “A lot of people on my side.”

“Oh, I knew no one was against you on this one,” your dad said. “I just wanted to let you know you’re trending, and let you know I’m proud of you for finally putting an end to those rumors. It was getting really tiresome to read why I hated Marshall on any given day.”

You chuckled slightly. “Thanks dad. I’ll call you and mom later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Your dad hung up and you decided it would be for the best to put your phone away for a while. Even though you weren’t getting any negative attention for this, you were still overwhelmed by the fact that the interview went up at all.

You settled back into bed beside Marshall, taking your place in his arms where you loved to be the most.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t realize my girl was so badass.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe I did.” You giggled as you nuzzled your head into his chest more. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course I know, babe. Don’t let that shitty interviewer and her bullshit get to you.”

“Oh she’s not,” he said. “I’m well aware your parents love me and I’m not taking advantage of you. I just wanted to remind you.”

I chuckled and shook my head. Shortly after, I drifted off to sleep, feeling proud of myself for what I had done.

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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[laurie-stark]

Unwanted-Peter Parker

Summary: Y/n Stark gets more than she bargains for when she joins her Pops, Captian America, for the civil war of the century.

Pairings: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader, Steve Rogers x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting

A/N: Just so you don't get too confused, Y/n is Tony Stark's biological child, however, she was raised by the Avengers and refers to Natasha and Steve as Mama and Pops. Also I wrote this a year ago LOL. Enjoy x

Part Two

New York, 2016

This was bad. Very, very bad. I had seen the secretary come in the compound over the screen of the security monitors. He marched into my home, unannounced and unwelcome, holding himself with purpose. I followed him over the screens, tracking his movements. I watched as he was led through the building, up the elevator and into...the conference room? Oh this was bad. Very, very bad.

I raced as fast as I could. By the time I got the to conference room, the whole group was already sitting in front of the secretary. I saw Wanda first. Her back was to me, but I could see her rigid frame and I knew something was happening. My  father saw me approaching through the glass walls. He shot me a look that said "Don't do it. Don't come in here." I didn't obey.

The secretary stopped speaking abruptly when I walked through the doors. He gave me a quizzical look, did a once over and immediately looked at my father. Surely I don't look that much like Tony.

"Sorry I'm late, no one informed me about this team meeting," I gasped, short of breath from all the running. Of course, this was pushing it. As much as I wanted to be a part of the group, fighting was not my style, so I often got left out of important Avengers activities. I got to live with them, but that was it. Tony rose from his seat. He mumbled an apology to the secretary and gently ushered I out of the room. I would have fought back, but seeing the look on my father's face was enough to shut me up. And I never shut up. The secretary resumed his story. Something about golf and a heart attack.

My dad turned to face me. "Look kid, I get that you want to know what's going on, and you will, but today isn't the day."

"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's okay to be curious," he replied, walking back into the meeting. "Stay upstairs, okay hun?" I nodded and started the trek back up to my room. I shut the door and flopped onto my bed. Out of my long list of pet peeves, this was number one. Sure, I didn't want to fight, but come on family, I should at least get to be in on what's going on! Maybe I could help. I have powers for God sake. I am more than capable of helping the Avengers. But they always saw me as the little girl who needs protection.

"April, pull up security footage of the conference room please," I asked. April, the AI I built, that was modeled after Friday, projected the video surveillance from the ceiling. "Volume up." The group was in the same position as from when I left. The secretary was passing around the room. There was a thick white book being passed around the table.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve said quietly. "I feel we've done that."

The secretary looked down at him. "Tell me Cap, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" What? You were so confused. Why did the secretary care where my uncles were? No one answered the secretary's question, so he kept talking. I racked your brain to find the answers on my own. "...this is the middle ground." The secretary pointed at the book, now lying untouched on the table.

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked.

"The you retire," the secretary responded. With that, he left the room and I scurried back downstairs.

Everyone was in the living room. I sat in the stairwell, again being uninvited to this group discussion. I listened to them fight. I figured out what was going on. The United Nations were being ungrateful little bitches and hated that they didn't have control over my family. So they gave an ultimatum: give in or give up. From the sounds of it, Uncle Rhodes, Vision and two of my four parents were in agreement with the accords. Steve and Sam were against it. Wanda hadn't said a word. Tension was growing high, I could feel it. I heard my father conclude that he won and a thud of the accords being tossed on the coffee table. Someone got up and left. Before I had the chance to act, the door to the stairwell was torn open. Steve pushed through and nearly stepped on me.

"Eavesdropping?" He smiled.

"You kicked me out, what else am I supposed to do?" I retorted. I noticed the tears welling in Steve's eyes. "Pops, what's wrong?"

Steve's glance fluttered to the ground. "Peggy. She, um..." was all he said. All he had to say. I  was smart enough to read between the lines. I stepped forward and hugged Steve. He smiled, grateful that he had me. I knew how much Peggy meant to him. When I was little, he'd always tell me the story about how they met, how they never got that dance. And every time I would make him dance with me. He even took me to visit her once. I was ten and it was Christmas time. Steve told me that he wanted his favorite girl to meet his favorite niece. Now that was all but a memory. I held him tight before telling him to go. It was okay, I could handle the others. He left without a second glance.

Within days the team was scattered. Steve and Sam had gone to Peggy's funeral. Natasha was off to the signing of the Accords in Vienna. And then all hell broke loose when the bombs went off at the signing ceremony. As always, I  were left home. I had no idea what was going on. At first this break in the team was about the Accords, but somehow Steve's old pal Bucky got involved. I didn't know what to think. The next thing I knew, everyone left for Berlin to rescue Steve and Sam from jail, leaving myself, Wanda and Vision at home.

When night fell, I was in my room, sulking as one would say. I was spending my evening flipping through Tumblr. There was a new superhero everyone was talking about. He called himself Spider-Man. New York based, focused on small neighborhood crimes. By YouTube footage alone, it was obvious he was a rookie. Soon enough, though, I accidentally conducted a full fledged search on this guy. He seemed shady. Sure, he's helping old ladies cross the street and all, but he just has a vibe. I couldn't put my finger on it. April broke me out of my research when she told me that there was a security breach in the compound. I pulled up the security camera footage and saw Clint Barton in my living room with Wanda levitating a knife at his nose.

I rushed downstairs. When I got to the living room Vision was holding Clint by the neck. I watched in silence as Wanda used her powers on Vision. She made it look easy. Slowly, Vision sunk to his knees. Wanda pushed further and the floor gave way. Vision was pushed through all seventy-four thousand levels of the compound. Wanda and Clint were about to turn to run out when you revealed yourself.

"Now was that really necessary?" I smirked. "We just had the floors waxed."

"Y/n," Clint warned.

"I'm not sitting on my ass," I said. Clint smirked and nodded. He knew he couldn't stop me anyways.

One car ride, plane flight and van trip later, I was in Germany. As it turns out, Steve wanted Clint and Wanda on his side, along with some ant dude named Scott. Scott was cool. Him and I sat together on the plane ride and watched Die Hard. He was asleep in the van when we pulled over in the airport parking lot. Clint told me to stay in the van. For once, I listened. I heard voices belonging to Steve and Sam. Clint slid open the van doors abruptly, shaking Scott awake. I chuckled to myself as he fangirled over my Pops. A voice over the intercom said something in a language I didn't know. A voice I didn't recognize said that the airport was being evacuated.

"Stark." Sam muttered.

Scott looked puzzled. Clearly he hadn't been filled in either. "Stark?" he asked.

I step out of the van. "Yes?" Steve and Sam look at me with wide eyes. Clint gave Steve a sheepish shrug. Behind their little blue car stood Bucky Barnes. I knew who he was. I learned about him in school. I knew he was some evil super soldier that attacked Natasha and Steve. He looked scary. He looked exactly like the type of guy to hurt my Mama and Pops. I held his glance until Steve spoke up.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Steve whisper-shouted. His voice always got quiet when he 'yelled' at me.

"I hitchhiked." I replied, knowing that at this point Steve didn't have the time to argue with me. He shook his head in defeat and took a deep breath.

"Suit up."

The airport was huge. Our group got suited up and started for the runway. I didn't know how Steve knew where to find my dad, but I followed him anyways. Before I could get any closer, Bucky held me back.

"It's, uh, not gonna be safe. You should stay here and keep low," he said. I frowned. I did not come all this way to not fight. But even still, I nodded. Bucky scared me. He and Sam took off in another direction to find the getaway jet. I laughed. This whole thing was ridiculous. My attention turned to the sound of my father and Rhodey flying down from the sky.

"Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in," Tony started. "That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve replied nonchalantly.

"Your judgement is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday-"

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find 'em first Tony. I can't."

"Steve," Natasha approached him slowly. "You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

I took this as my cue. "No, but I will," I said, emerging from my hiding spot. I looked at the faces of your family. My gaze fell on Tony and my smile dropped. He looked angry.

"You brought my daughter into this?" Tony yelled, turning to Steve.

"Technically, I brought myself," I said. "You really think you were gonna leave me out of all the fun?"

Tony pinched his brow. "Y/n, this is serious."

"No it's not," I objected. "No, this got personal the second you thought you were gonna loose Pops to Bucky." No one moved after I said that.

"Alright, I've run out of patience," my father finally spoke. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Underoos!"

Before I had a chance to process, a red and black blur whipped past my head. It landed on top of a nearby van. It was Spider-Man. As in the Spider-Man. He had taken Cap's shield from him. I said nothing. My father could have recruited me, but instead he chose this little neighborhood nobody. That hurt a little. The Spider-thing and my father bantered for a minute. So he's never even been in a real fight before, I thought.

"You've been busy," Steve smirked.

Tony turned back to Steve. "And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint and Y/n, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep-" he paused, sighing. "I'm trying to keep to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you signed." Steve kept his cool. My father did not.

"Alright, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us! Or squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction of being polite. Come on."

Everyone stood still, waiting. Steve put his web-cuffed hands in the air. Clint shot them free from a mile away. I saw Scott -or a tiny version of him. Spider-Man noticed too, right before Scott grew and kicked him in the face. My dad flew off to retrieve Wanda and Rhodey was ready to take on Cap.

"Hey Mr. Stark, what should I do?" Spider-Man asked. He sounded young.

"What we discussed, keep your distance, web 'em up!" My father barked, as he flew towards Clint and Wanda.

"Okay, copy that," Spider-Man replied. He shot a web at me first. It caught my arm and I got whipped to the ground. I glared at him.

"Really?" I hissed.

"Just following Mr. Stark's orders," He said before swinging off after Bucky. I was left on the ground once everyone dispersed. I tried pulling my hand out of the sticky material that was shot at me, but it was stronger than glue. I was forced to watch the action unfold and wait until Natasha ran past me.

"Mama, a little help here?" I called out to her.

She stopped for a second. "Sorry honey, I really don't want you getting hurt." She ran off and I groaned. No one ever wants me to get hurt. I suppose I should be grateful, but in a moment like this, gratitude is hard to find. I started toying with the web. I wondered if I could break down the molecules. Surely there had to be some sort of H2O compound in it somewhere.

My power surged through me, the current flowing to the hand webbed to the ground. I managed to manipulate the water out, just as I predicted I would. The substance melted off my hands. Gross, I thought. I wiped the remaining web on my pants and got up. The water from the webbing fell to the ground with a splash.

I stood up and examined my surroundings. Natasha was on the ground fighting Scott, who shrunk down and flipped her over her own head. The Black Panther was on the other side of the roof, battling Steve. I didn't move. As much as I wanted to be included, I couldn't bring myself to fight. Not now at least.

The two teams assembled, divided by a line on the pavement. How cinematic. I was on Cap's side. I never meant to fight against my father. If anything, I thought it was funny. I looked out at the team in front of me. They were all lined up, Rhodey, the cat, Tony, Nat, the Spider-brat. Vision hovered above them. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I were scared. I wasn't made to fight.

"What do we do Cap?" Sam asked.

"We fight." Steve moved first. We followed in suit. My dad's team mimicked my team's actions and walked closer. We  broke into a jog and then a full out run. This was really about to happen. I hoped that my family would go easy on me. I knew what I was doing. I reassured myself of that. I have done a bunch of training, especially with Wanda. I could move the freaking elements with my mind and manipulate gravity! As if the Spider-Man could beat that. I am Y/n fricking Stark. I can do this.

I put a smile on your face, contrasting everyone else's bitter looks. "I call the spider!" I yelled, just as everyone began the battle. Spider-Man heard me and slowed down just a bit. I cocked an eyebrow. He resumed his pace and ran straight for me. I ran headfirst towards him. He threw out his arm to web me, but I was faster. With a swish of my hands, I changed his gravitational pull and made his feet flip out from under him. He landed on his back with a hard thud. As gently as I could, I morphed the pavement under him to trap his hands. "Careful there, Spider-boy. Don't wanna get stepped on." I walked away. I made it about ten steps before I heard the sound of concrete cracking. I turned around and saw that Spider-Man was breaking free of his restraints. I was shocked. He has super strength. Great. I should have moved out of his way because the second he got one hand free, I was webbed against a truck.

"For the record," he said, getting up in my face. "It's Spider-Man." He swung off into the airport through a glass window. I watched the glass rained onto the ground. Taking a deep breath, I quickly removed myself from the webs. I needed a plan. A strategy. I thought about at the opposing team. Everyone was scattered around the airport. I thought about who would be easiest to fight. But then I realized, the strategy wasn't about how they'd fight, but who. There was no way in hell that my parents or Uncle Rhodey would even think about fighting me. The Black Panther didn't know me, so he was a threat. The worst Vision could do was pick me up and fly away, so he was in thr safe zone. That left the spider. I smiled to myself. Rematch time.

By the time I found Spider-Man, he had already webbed Sam and Bucky to the floor. He was perched on top of a light post, saying something about impressing my father. Sam's mini falcon whizzed past me and grabbed Spider-Man by the web. He got pulled out a window, banging his side into the pane on the way out. I ran over to Sam and Bucky. Quickly, I destroyed the webbing and helped them up. They both gave me a quick "Thanks kid," before running back out. I followed them, staying loose on their trail.

Once I got outside my eyes scanned the area for the Spider. I saw Wanda piling cars on my father and Natasha fighting Clint. Then I spotted him, fighting Cap. He was underneath a jet bridge . Cap threw his shield at the support beams and the whole thing fell on top of Spider-Man. He caught it of course, but Cap ran away. I formed my plan.

"Hey!" I called out. I walked around the collapsing jet bridge. I stood in front of the struggling boy. Or man, I didn't know. "Remember me?"

"Heh, how could I forget such a pretty face," he grunted, starting to fold under the weight of the jet bridge. "You wanna give me a hand?" I glared at his face comment, but lifted the jet bridge anyway. He ran out and I let it fall. Both of us stopped for a minute, gasping for breath beside the rubble. He was close enough to hit. So I did. Without warning I threw a punch of air at him. It hit him right in the chest and he got blown back into the side of a van. "What the hell man?" He got up and shot a web at me. I dodged and threw another gust of wind. It shot him out of the air. He webbed at a pole and swung past my face. I redirected his gravitational pull, but not before he got a kick to my face. We both got thrown in different directions. I landed hard on the ground, pain shooting up my spine. I got up first, now angry. Forgetting about my powers, I lunged at him and threw a punch. I missed and he shot webs at my feet, holding me down. Immediately, I dissolved them and Spider-Man's eyes widened. Well, his mask's eye holes did anyway.

"How did you do that?" He yelled. "What kind of witchcraft-"

"Its not witchcraft," I spat. "It's called manipulation of the elements, look it up. I figured there had to be some water compound in this and I was right. All I had to do was remove it."

"That's so cool! And how did you do the foot thing earlier? Was that just the wind you do or do you have telekinesis too? Are you like the Scarlet Witch?" He rambled on. I took this to my advantage and caught him off guard. I used the van he'd hit earlier to become his gravitational pull and yanked. He went slamming into it and groaned. When he tried to get back up, I was already five steps ahead of him. Morphing the earth metals in the van, I contorted it into a shell that crushed Spider-Man until he was covered and stuck.

I heard Scott say that he was gonna tear himself in half over the earpiece. I got distracted from holding Spider-Man down and turned to see a giant Scott. Spider-Man broke free. He tore the shell off himself and threw it at me. I was wacked across the side and fell the the ground again.

"Holy shit!" he says, looking at Scott. His back was to me and I gave him one last wind push. He fell on his face and I laughed. "Oh come on, don't you have some dolls to play with or something?" I just scoffed and walked past him, stepping past his hand that was on the ground. He let out a yelp and you kept walking. Dolls, I thought. I'm thirteen I don't play with dolls. I watched as the rest of the battle went down. I wasn't quite sure what to do. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Natasha was standing just behind me. "Come with me." We started jogging off. It was natural for me to listen to her. I realized about five seconds in that technically she was my enemy right about now, but I shrugged it off. I ran through the fight, past the big Scott and towards a warehouse. I could see the outline of a jet get bigger as I approached it. Natasha stopped behind the entrance. She was waiting.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We wait to fight," She replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. I came to realize this probably means I would be fighting her. Maybe she wanted to use me as a hostage or something. No, that's silly. Right?

Steve and Bucky got closer to the building I was in. They nearly made it until Vision laser beamed the shit out of a nearby communications tower. Wanda caught it before it fell, giving the two men time to race towards the jet. I stepped out to help Wanda. The both of us were able to hold the rubble long enough for Steve and Bucky to get through. I panted, proud of myself for getting this far.

A searing pain sliced through my brain. Both myself and Wanda fell to the ground, screaming. I could barely look up to see that Rhodey was sending some sort of wave through the air. The tower fell and Natasha was quick to haul me out of the way before I got crushed. I might be better than Spider-Man, but I definitely don't have his super strength.

Steve and Bucky still managed to get through the falling paces of metal and concrete. Natasha left my side and marched swiftly towards the two men. I couldn't hear them, but I could sense the tension from a mile away. Natasha lifted her arm, taser aimed and ready. Steve held his shield up in defense as Natasha shoots....the Black Panther? I guess she's on our side now? The jet started to take off and you watch an Natasha continues to battle the Panther. I fell to my side, wiped out.

My father flew into the warehouse just as the jet leaves. You thought maybe he was going to fight Natasha for betraying him. I was wrong. He was coming for me. He landed beside me and dropped to his knees. His helmet closed and I could see the worry plastered on his cut up face. He knelt beside me and gently held me up.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded, not really able to make words. He looked over at Natasha, who was looking at us. She had an apologetic look, but I know she doesn't regret letting Cap go. My father let me go and charged off after the jet plane. I lied down, enjoying the feeling of cold concrete against your skin. I closed my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I paced around the living room, driving Nat crazy. I knew that the second my father got home I would be in deep shit. So when Friday alerted me that Tony was home my heart rate went up 29373%. The battle, this fight, it ended worse then I could have imagined. Natasha told me that my father could have died. Rhodey was paralyzed from the waist down. I had no idea if I'd ever see my Pops again. This was bad. Very, very bad.

I slowly walked down the main hall towards the front doors. I was scared. My hands and the back of my neck were sweating. I knew exactly what was coming. Every time I had asked my dad if I could be an honorary Avenger, I got the same lecture. That it was too dangerous, I didn't have the proper training and it's too much for his little girl to handle. Even when I asked to just be a part of the business side of the team, Tony laughed and said no. I've broken a lot of my father's rules, but this was the line. And I had gone so far over.

As I approached the front door, I could hear my father speaking. I heard another voice too. My heart dropped. It was Spider-Man. Why was Spider-Man here? I ducked behind a wall and listened in to the conversation.

"...outstanding job kid. Your fighting technique was on par. And, listen, I know we're not allowed to have kids on this team, but if we need you again, we'll call." I heard my father say.

"Thanks Mr. Stark. This was so cool," Spider-Man replied. I wondered if he had his suit on or not. I wanted to know who this guy was. I revealed myself from behind the wall. The two looked at me. I looked at my father first and fought the urge to burst into tears. He looked awful. His face was all cut up and the black eye he got was still a little swollen. I glanced at the figure beside him and frowned. Spider-Man was a kid. He looked like he was my age. He had a mop of curly brown hair and doe eyes. He was almost equally as beat up as my dad and I gracefully took credit for that.

"Y/n, this is Peter. He's, uh, one of my interns. Kid, this is Y/n," Tony said. My annoyance turned to anger. Now my father was lying to me?

"How old are you?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I knew that I sounded rude, but this kid had kicked me in the face twice. I didn't think he deserved my manners.

"I'm fourteen," Peter gulped. A year older than me. And I kicked his ass, I thought. "You gave me quite a fight back in Berlin."

"Yeah and I beat your ass doing it."

"Speaking of which," Tony spoke up, "I have to talk to Y/n about that. Happy will take you home Peter." Peter nodded and said goodbye to my father. He said goodbye to me, to which I didn't reply. Peter frowned at that as he walked out the door.

My dad turned to me when the door shut. "What," he began, "were you thinking?"

"Well I-"

"No. This is where you listen. Do you know how dangerous that mission was. Do you know how many people got hurt? You saw what happened to Rhodey, that could have been you!"

"But it wasn't" I retorted.

Tony's frown deepened. "That is not the point. You put yourself in serious danger, and for what? So you could feel a little more included? You could have died. This was my one rule, my one ask of you, and your broke it."

"Oh, come on now, I'm a Stark, it's in our blood to not listen to our fathers." My father gave me the coldest look and I shut down. I took a deep breath. "Look, I didn't know that it was gonna be this bad. You know me, daddy, I'm not a fighter, I'm not some hero. You think I would have gone if I knew it would turn out like this? I thought this was just gonna be another one your you and Pops' stupid fights. And yes, I could have gotten hurt, but I think I handled myself pretty well. You saw what I did you that little protege of yours. I beat him to the curb."

"Y/n you were reckless. Peter was prepared for this, he was ready."

"And I still beat him."

"Y/n you're not listening to me. This is why I chose Peter over you. I would have taken you if I knew you wouldn't do something stupid. But you did anyway." And with that he walked away, leaving me, teary-eyed in the front hall.

Tony came by my room later that night to apologize. He said that he was sorry for being harsh, that he just cared about me and I scared him. I knew he meant it and I forgave him, because that's what we do. Besides, it wasn't Tony I was angry with. This is why I chose Peter over you. Tony's words echoed through my head. I knew that he loved me more, I'm his daughter, he had to. But I were jealous. Jealous that stupid Peter Parker got the praise for the work I've wanted to hear for ages. And mad at that stupid spider for being stupid.

This is when I decided that I hate Peter Parker.

[entrapdaknation]

Conquerors Should Use the Metro

I couldn’t help myself. After participating in this Twitter thread, I threw together a drabble about what would happen if the Horde tried to conquer Earth, starting with Washington D.C.

I need to be stopped.

=========================

TRANSCRIPT. AIR DATE 8/26/20XX.

ANNOUNCER: This is an ABC News special report.

ANCHOR: Good afternoon. I'm Lance D'Abcesse, reporting from ABC News headquarters. A situation is developing in central Washington D.C., where a man and a troop of autonomous military robots are wreaking havoc on a Georgetown neighborhood.

[Scene: Arial drone footage of a Georgetown residential neighborhood, where police are crouching behind their vehicles, pointing weapons at a dozen Horde battle bots. The bots proceed to ignite empty cars and recycling bins with laser fire.]

ANCHOR: According to law enforcement, around 12:45 p.m. Eastern, a belligerent man arrived in this quiet Georgetown neighborhood, accompanied by a dozen military robots. Eyewitnesses report that the man kicked in the doors of several white houses and demanded an audience with "Earth leaders" to negotiate "the planet's surrender". The man was described as roughly seven feet tall with blue hair and red eyes, wearing armor and a skull mask. His skin appears to be dyed blue, leading police to speculate that he may be a disgrunted Dallas Cowboys fan. The man is also armed with what appears to be an arm-mounted T-shirt canon.

[Scene: Hordak stands at the threshold of a white residential home. After vaporizing the door with a shot from his laser canon, he saunters into the house. Several seconds later, Hordak runs out of the house, shielding his head with his free arm as an old woman smacks him with a broom.]

ANCHOR: FBI intelligence officials intercepted the following electronic communication between the man and an accomplice.

"Any luck finding the leaders, Hordak?"

"No. I've stormed ten white houses searching for Earth's sovereigns, but all I've uncovered are elders, housewives, and children. These Earth commoners have battered me with brooms, thrown appliances at my head, and berated me for interrupting their video games."

"The planet's rulers have to be around here somewhere!"

"Clearly, this "Bai-Din" and his courtiers are too cowardly to face me on the battlefield!"

"Hordak, honey, let's regroup. Just take the Blue Line or the Orange Line to the Smithsonian Metro Station."

"I am NOT navigating that subterranean labyrinth again. The city's underground tunnels are more confusing than Crypto Castle. I will go on foot."

"Okay, but the Metro's quicker. Listen, I've secured all the Smithsonian museums with EKS bots. The visitors thought they were some kind of science exhibit! They loved them! I'll be waiting for you at the National Air and Space Museum. There's so much science here! They have a space suit testing android! We need to build a science museum in the Fright Zone when we get--Emily, don't knock over that display!"

ANCHOR: Another developing story is taking place in Washington D.C. at the National Air and Space Museum. An unidentified woman entered the building with five military robots and began climbing on exhibits. Visitors were evacuated by museum staff, and security guards were chased by robots when they attempted to remove the woman. ABC News correspondent Anita Beere was granted access to the museum.

[Scene: Entrapta sits on top the Lunar Module LM-2 as a journalist points a microphone at her.]

ENTRAPTA: So after Hordak conquered Etheria and we figured out how to get Etheria out of Despondos, he thought that conquering the nearest neighbor would make an even better impression on Horde Prime. We were supposed to meet up with the rest of our troops, but they insisted on driving here in tanks and skiffs. I told them to use the Metro! Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio got lost somewhere near Logan Circle. Last I heard, Catra and Scorpia wound up in Baltimore, somehow.

BEERE: Once the Horde conquers Earth, what does Hordak plan to do with the planet?

ENTRAPTA: That's the thing. The Horde doesn't really do anything with the places it conquers. He'll probably slap some bat-symbols on everything and call it a day.

BEERE: Witnesses claim that you brought a toddler inside with you. Is it wise to bring a small child along for a war campaign?

ENTRAPTA: Imp? Oh, he won't cause too much mayhem.

[Imp flies through the air and lands on the module next to Entrapta. Imp opens his mouth, and a recording of a woman flows from his lips: "Mr. President, the situation in Georgetown has devolved into--OH GOD A DEMON BABY!"]

BEERE: How does the Horde plan to conquer a planet of almost 8 billion people with a handful of troops and robots?

ENTRATPA: Ei...eight...billion...people?

BEERE: That's right. Earth's population is 7.8 billion people.

[Entrapta's hair twitches. Her eye twitches. She stares blankly at the journalist, then extracts a recorder from her overalls pocket.]

ENTRAPTA: Log entry 1094. Earth has almost 8 billion people. Our earlier intelligence reports were...in error. I'm going to need to build more robots.

ANCHOR: ABC News will closely monitor both situations in Washington. In other news, thirteen people were injured in the Inner Harbor district of Baltimore, Maryland. Witnesses at Phillips Seafood claim that a woman in a cat costume became argumentative when the restaurant ran out of blue crabs. A brawl ensued with other patrons after the woman reportedly asked, "Why do you [EXPLETIVE] people put Old Bay on everything?" and "Why are you idiots obsessed with ravens?" The woman was last seen fleeing toward Harborplace in a hovercraft with a woman dressed as a steamed crab.

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[monstersandmaw]

Male vampire x male character (nsfw) Part Four

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for taking 84yrs to post this. I thought I had shared it. Sorry. Hope you enjoy all the same.

Wordcount: 10,904 (story total: 23,704)

Heads up in this part for continued, but easing, tense familial relations, some angst/heartache (not heartbreak though), and some (consensual) blood drinking.

Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw), Part Three (nsfw)

Alec let out a shaky breath and crossed to the sofa, sinking down onto it as his legs finally gave out. “Vampires,” he said, hardly daring to believe the word he was uttering.

“Yes.”

“And you’re one?”

“… Yes.”

“And my family…?”

Sebastien’s voice was tight on the other end of the line as he said, “Hunts my kind. Well, those of us who aren’t registered with the ‘Guild of Hunters’ —” his tone turned acrid as he spat the words out, though he kept his voice low and quiet.

“What does that even mean? I don’t know what any of this means… And did you know about my family? I mean, before? When you started dating me?”

Sebastien took another deep breath. “Yes. I knew. And it was a long time before I fully convinced myself that you did not.”

If Sebastien had thought it was some kind of trap, that would explain his reticence at the beginning for sure.

“And were you planning on telling me any of this?” Alec snarled. God, his chest hurt so much. The deception was like Jeremy cheating on him all over again, only this time the betrayal was coming from two fronts at once: from his love life and from his family. Not that he’d had all that solid a relationship with the latter to start with. Perhaps this explained why.

“I hadn’t planned on becoming your boyfriend at all,” Sebastien snapped.

“So, what, I was just a quick diversion? A casual fuck you kept coming back for because I’m such a fucking chump? Is that it?”

“No,” Sebastien sighed. “Not at all. I fell for you. Like the horrid cliche I am, the vampire fell for the hunter, and by then I had no idea how to tell you. I’ve not been with a human before, so this is all very new to me.”

Alec ran his fingers through his dark hair to buy himself a moment. “You… You haven’t?”

“No.”

“How… How old are you?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

“Yes!” His phone was slippery in his fingers now from the sweat on his palm but he couldn’t bring it away from his ear long enough to put it on speaker. He needed answers.

With another cavernous sigh, Sebastien said hurriedly, “Very well. I was born in 1897 and turned on the battlefields of the Great War — World War I, that is. I was dying, and a vampire named Felicity who had been working as a field nurse turned me. My first run-in with your family was not long after I moved from France to America. They were working with the American Hunters’ Guild on a case which had nothing to do with me.” He let out a shaky breath and said, “I got in the way and I nearly died. Those were the days before the treaty, of course, and before I moved to England.”

Despite his still-spinning mind, Alec managed to croak, “What treaty?”

“Those of us who get our blood from sanctioned blood banks and do not live-feed are exempt from being hunted like animals.” He spoke like he was quoting from a law code; cold and clinical; detached.

God, the way he said it made Alec’s skin crawl. It was as if he were being permitted to exist on the grounds of good behaviour and, he supposed, that was exactly the case. Even so, Alec couldn’t help the next words that just fell out of his mouth. “So you weren’t planning on feeding from me?”

“Of course not,” Sebastien retorted but then appeared to rein himself in with yet another steadying inhale. “No. It’s been decades since I’ve fed from a human directly. I didn’t plan on starting with you.”

Alec slumped back into the sofa cushions and stared up at the ceiling of his tiny apartment. “Fuck.”

After a long silence, Sebastien’s gentle tenor sounded in his ear. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve never been close to my family - my dad was always an arsehole, but… I can’t believe Theo’s involved in all this. He was such a sweet kid, and we were really close until…” he swallowed thickly around the rising lump in his throat.

“Until?” Sebastien prompted when he stalled again.

“I can’t believe this is all real,” he muttered. “Until he turned sixteen and started to ‘work out’ with dad. I was at uni by then, getting my fine art degree, but whenever I came home he was just… different. Harder. Sharper. More focused. Guess it makes sense now… Well, as much as… you know…” he gestured vaguely to the empty apartment with his hands, “… as much as all this can make sense. Fucking… vampires…”

After a heartbeat, Sebastien added softly, “Quite literally.”

Despite himself, Alec snorted. “So… where does this leave us?”

Now it was Sebastien’s turn to feel clearly uncomfortable. Eventually he said, “Alec, I don’t think it’s wise for me to see you currently. Not with your family being what they are.”

His heart twisted, even though he’d been half expecting it. “You still think they’d… what, stake you, or whatever it is that vampire hunters actually do to you lot?”

“There are many ways to kill a vampire,” he said flatly. “And your family knows all of them, probably more. You need to work this out with them first as well. Talk to your brother. He seems the more reasonable…”

“I can’t believe Ellie’s in on it as well. And my mother? Fuck…”

“Talk to them.”

“Will I still see you at work at least?”

The awkward silence told him all he needed to know, even before Sebastien said, “I just sent in my letter of resignation.”

“That was quick,” he hissed, stomach dropping. “You only just left.”

“Supernatural speed,” he replied bitterly. “Comes in useful for typing papers and getting out of awkward situations…”

That sparked another question in him. “Supernatural powers, huh? Can you turn into a bat too?”

“No.”

Then he thought of Sebastien’s Halloween outfit. “Wolf?”

He thought he detected a faint smirk in Sebastien’s response. “No, sadly. No shape-shifting for me. Felicity is not of any extraordinary bloodline, and thus, neither am I.”

“Right,” he grunted. “Of course. Is she… is she still around?”

“Felicity? Yes. We meet every now and again. She and her wife spend most of their time in Venice these days.”

“Her wife? She a vampire too?”

Sebastien swallowed audibly. “Yes.”

“Did Felicity turn her too? Would that make her wife your sister?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Did she know her as a human though?”

“Yes.”

After a moment of spinning thoughts, Alec asked, “Did… you turn her?”

“One doesn’t tend to turn one’s own intended. Between a sire and their turned, there can grow… tension. Not always, but it can be enough to ruin a relationship that was seemingly solid before. Something about exchanging blood changes the soul… or so we think, anyway. It was an honour to be asked to sire her.”

“Right.” Alec felt slightly sick. “Will I at least see you before you leave?”

“I think it best if we don’t. Not while your family is still… ‘investigating’ me.”

“Are you really in danger from them?”

“Quite possibly. My name is on the treaty, but…”

Something twanged painfully again in his chest, swiftly followed by the fizzle of fear through his veins. “But what?”

“But vampires and hunters are not supposed to sleep together, Alec…”

“Don’t bang the enemy? How very Romeo and Juliet,” he snorted. “Fuck. Why does every good relationship I have turn to shit?” he asked, not of Sebastien but of the universe itself. “What did I do?”

“Alec —”

“—Don’t. Don’t make it worse by apologising or something. It’s fine. We were only together a month. I’ll get over it. You’ll move on. Heck, you’ll fucking live forever, right? What’s a month to you anyway? Nothing, right?”

The bitterness in his own voice nearly choked him, and without thinking, or even saying goodbye, he just hung up and let his phone lie in his limp fingers on the sofa cushions. It lit up and rang a moment later, but he didn’t answer it. Six more times Sebastien tried before finally giving up.

Kay was an absolute blessing in the next few days.

He didn’t tell her immediately about the whole vampire thing, but after he’d calmed down enough to be able to look at Theo without immediately busting a vein in his forehead, he hashed the basics out with him, and then told her everything. Alec told her about his newly-discovered, secret family occupation which, apparently, stretched back centuries. He told her about the fact that his eldest sister and younger brother were monster hunters in their spare time, and he told her the real reason Sebastien why had vanished overnight without a trace — yes, Alec had gone to his apartment building, only to be politely informed by the doorman that Dr. Dulac was no longer in residence and did not leave so much as a forwarding address.

That, above almost everything else, shattered Alec’s hopes of seeing him again. Like thistledown in the wind, Sebastien had simply flitted away somewhere else.

She took it about as well as he had to start with, but when she saw the seriousness in his eyes, and when, three weekends later, she came to his apartment for a definitely-not-awkward dinner with Theo, she saw video footage that Theo and his father had captured from various hunts of supernatural creatures beyond only beautiful vampires. Then she believed him. Ghouls, ghosts, reanimated corpses, demons… you name it and Theo could tell you about it.

Alec spent Christmas with Kay’s family, and Theo met him for New Year drinks in the city, joined by Ellie. It wasn’t anything like the family dynamic he’d always longed for, but the new degree of openness between them went some way to mending his still bruised heart. Slowly. Gradually. Piece by tentative, honest piece. He never joined in, but Theo started to tell him a bit about what they did. It still sounded barbaric to him, but at least it was true.

He had no word from Sebastien, and the number he had saved in his phone had been disconnected.

With the arrival of spring, Alec found himself more than usually dissatisfied with his job. He was a good teacher, and he enjoyed seeing his students’ talents evolve and grow, but the ever-increasing admin ground him down, and the politics of the faculty and the university as a whole wore on him.

“Have you seen this?” Kay asked one afternoon as they shared a takeaway coffee beneath the drifting cherry blossoms. Petals spiralled down like pastel pink and white wedding confetti, and he watched with an absent smile as a terrier snapped and sprung around on his hind legs trying to catch them while his owner stood and talked with her friend nearby. “Oi!” Kay asked, digging him in the ribs.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen this?” she asked, shoving her phone under his nose.

He blinked, refocusing his eyes, and read the article’s headline aloud. “Council offers artists the chance to win a sponsored exhibition in the town hall with this unique competition.” He blinked. “So?”

“So?” she gawped. “You can’t be serious?”

“Send me the link. I’ll forward it to my students. They might like that.” That earned him a smack upside the head, and he scowled. “What was that for?”

“Alec, you might be the dumbest smart guy I know,” she said. “I showed it to you so that you could enter it, you giant idiot.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“I saw those charcoals you did the other week of the cathedral! They were amazing!! And the abstracts too… I still want one, by the way.”

“It’s already wrapped up for your birthday,” he groused. “You really think I should do it?”

She rolled her eyes and drained the last of her coffee without gracing him with an answer. Of course she thought he should.

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next Thursday,” she said without looking at him.

Alec licked his lips and swallowed. “Will you help me pick some images to submit?”

Her answering grin was feral.

In all honesty, Alec forgot about having even entered the competition until the letter dropped through his door six weeks later announcing that, to his utter astonishment, he had been selected as the winner. Tears blurred his eyes and he sat down heavily at the tiny kitchen table. He’d never entered any of his own art into anything like this in his whole life, and the first time he does, he gets a whole fucking public exhibition out of it?

“Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all,” he murmured. “New year, new start…” His chest still ached when he thought about Sebastien, and he hoped he was doing alright, wherever he was.

Theo had been searching for him, probably by way of apology for lying to his big brother for all these years, but he’d turned up very little. Sebastien had gone to Venice first, it seemed, presumably to spend time with Felicity and her wife, but had disappeared completely after that, with only rumours flickering here and there that he was in Paris, St. Petersburg, Prague, and then potentially Florence. Maybe.

“Venice seems like a pretty sunny place for a pair of vampires to live,” Alec commented, but Theo shrugged.

“They don’t burn up immediately in sunlight, or your professor would never have been able to take a day-job at the university. They’re sensitive to it, some more than others, but it takes a full day of constant sunlight beating down for them to burn properly.” The callousness of his brother’s response shook him, even after all these months, and Theo must have seen it on his face because he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then added, “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Alec shrugged. Yes, he wanted to say. I thought so. “I only knew him for a month or so,” was what he said carefully instead. “And even then… turned out I didn’t know him anyway.”

Theo, who had been lounging on Alec’s sofa with his legs spread and his head tipped back into the cushions while Alec made supper, asked quietly, “Did he seem… normal to you?”

“Normal?” Alec asked, not sure he’d heard his brother correctly.

“Yeah… like… did you ever suspect he wasn’t… you know…?”

“Human?”

Theo grunted and nodded his head. “Yeah. I guess.”

“No. Obviously not. Never crossed my mind. Why would it have?”

Theo scowled and turned his eyes to regard him. Alec knew that Theo looked like a younger version of himself, if maybe in better shape, and he wondered if he’d have the same steely look in his eyes if he’d been deemed ‘man enough’ to become a hunter, or whatever bullshit criteria their arsehole father had used to select which members of his family were to become soldiers and which would live normal lives.

“What?” Alec demanded.

“But you slept with him, right?”

“I’m not talking about that with you,” he said, briefly brandishing the wooden spoon at him.

Theo pulled a face. “I’m not asking about your sex life. Gross. No, I mean…”

In that moment, Alec spotted a flash of something in his brother’s blue eyes that softened him to the kid. He turned off the gas and went over to where Theo was now sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. When he looked up at Alec’s approach, his face showed open vulnerability in a way he’d not seen since they were young children and Theo had got himself into trouble at school.

“What’s going on?” Alec asked, seating himself next to his little brother.

Theo bobbed his knee like a deprived caffeine addict and bit his lip. With glassy eyes, he croaked, “I keep asking myself if we did the right thing…”

“What do you mean?”

The bravado of Theo’s early twenties melted away to become a worried, frightened, guilty little boy again and he said, “I mean… if what we do is right…”

“You mean… hunting?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“What set this off?”

His brother quirked him a humourless smirk and said, “You always did know when something was bothering me.”

Alec remained quiet, just watching him.

“We teamed up with some hunters from Edinburgh for a ‘vamp gone rogue’ case and we finally found her yesterday. She… She’d been turning people; trying to amass some kind of small army to take over from another vampire further up north. She was insane… like, completely, sociopathically insane, but… the people she turned… they were just…” he blinked, and Alec saw with a jolt that his eyes were full of unshed tears. “They were still just people.”

He feared he already knew where this was going. Still, he asked, “What happened?”

“Father wanted to put them down. They were terrified, chained up… still on the point of lashing out…”

Bile rose in his throat. “Oh god…”

“One of the hunters said she knew of a vampire who could help rehabilitate them; help them adjust to their new lives. One of them didn’t want to live as a vampire though, so father just…”

Theo didn’t need to finish that for Alec to know that father had ended the newly-turned vampire’s life in a heartbeat. “And the rest?”

“The other three went with the hunter. I don’t know what happened, but… I trust her. It’s just… father taught me and Ellie that vampires are mindless killers when they feed… that you can’t get close to them, that all they want at the end of the day is blood no matter what they tell you…  but…” he looked up at Alec. “You’ve been fucking miserable since the whole Sebastien shit-fest. I know you’ve been trying to hide it, and you’ve got the exhibition coming up next weekend, and that’s great, but… I know you’ve stopped putting yourself out there. And we did that. We fucked it all up for you. I just…” he ran his hands through his hair and sent it into wild disarray. “I just wonder if you could really have been happy with him after all.”

Alec pulled his brother close and hugged him. “I’m not going to lie,” he murmured into his brother’s dark hair. “I’m furious with father for keeping everything from me, and for making you and mum and Ellie lie to me and Angie about it as well, but… if I hadn’t seen Sebastien’s eyes go red — yeah, I thought it was just a reflection or something — and if I hadn’t seen the way he sleeps literally like the dead… I’m not sure I would have believed you anyway. I don’t forgive him for it either, but…” he sighed deeply. “I forgive you, Theo. And Ellie.”

“And mum?”

“I’m still working on that.”

Theo went slack beneath him and snaked his arms around his brother’s waist for a moment. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Alec’s shirt.

“You’re still coming to the exhibition?” Alec asked as he pulled back and went back to the stove, giving Theo a moment of privacy to pull himself together.

In truth, Alec was a little shaken too. Their relationship had been slowly patched over the intervening months, but it still wasn’t particularly close, and the matter of Sebastien had been a permanent, proverbial elephant in the room. That Theo was questioning their father’s teaching came as an immense relief to Alec though. He poured them each a glass of wine, and the two spent the rest of the evening in a quieter kind of closeness than they’d yet shared.

When the evening of the exhibition drew round, Alec was quite frankly, a bit of a mess.

“C’mon,” Theo grinned, patting the lapels of his jacket down for him and grinning up at him. “Where’s that Twayblade hunter courage, huh?”

“Must have skipped me and all gone to you,” he quipped back. “Fuck. I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?”

“No fucking clue,” Theo chuckled. “You’re awesome and they’re gonna fucking love you.”

“Language,” Alec said instinctively and Theo’s laughter redoubled.

“You’re a big fucking hypocrite, you know that?” Theo laughed just as Kay sidled up with three glasses of champagne awkwardly held between her hands.

“Help a girl out here, would you, boys?” she asked, proffering the glasses to them.

Alec resisted the urge to down it in one — he’d probably only choke on the bubbles anyway — and filled his lungs instead with a big gulp of air. He tried to send all his nerves into the air and then blow it out of his body in one heaving sigh to leave him calmer, but it just gave him a head rush, so he sipped the wine and turned to look around the gallery from the corner where he’d been lurking.

“What if no one shows up?” he blurted, earning him a scowl from Theo and a pout-and-eyebrow-raise combo from Kay.

He needn't have worried in the end. The marketing team had done their work, and within an hour the place was heaving and all but three of his pieces had been reserved. Scratch that. Two.

The fact that almost all of his students had turned up as well to cheer him on and trade high fives, and scrounge free alcohol and food from the canape trays, warmed him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Overwhelmed and a little bit tearful, he stepped out of the town hall’s main exhibition space and into the small corridor that led to a fire exit and a grotty back car park beyond, letting the flush die down from his cheeks. This was what he’d really wanted right from the moment he’d graduated all those years ago; to be an artist in his own right, with people buying his work at exhibitions… It almost made him giddy to think that he had a chance to do this full time now. It seemed that Sebastien had been right when he’d said he could really make something of himself.

Ah, there was the crash in his mood that he’d been waiting for. Nothing good lasts forever, right?

Would Sebastien have been proud of him if he knew about this? Would he have been there that night, by his side? Would they even have lasted that long anyway, even without his family’s interference?

The noise in the room was gradually dying down when he gathered enough courage to step back into the echoing hall. The pale wooden floors gleamed in the low light, the white of the temporary exhibition walls almost glowing, in stark contrast to the black and grey of his charcoals. He’d chosen mostly charcoals for the show, with a few acrylic abstracts for flavour, and apparently people loved them. Every single one had a red ‘sold’ dot beneath the label now, he noted as he cast his eyes around the room.

Then his gaze snagged on someone standing with their back to him, hands clasped loosely behind them, a long, silver-blond ponytail hanging down their back. And Alec’ vision slipped sideways.

Sebastien.

It had to be him.

No one else stood with posture like that. No one else was so tall and lean and elegant and god-damned graceful, even when just standing still. And no one else stood quite as still as that.

He let out a ragged breath and swayed slightly, glancing around. There was no sign of Theo or Kay just then, and only one or two couples meandered admiringly around the room. And there, fixated by one piece in particular, stood Sebastien.

Inhaling for courage, Alec approached and came to an unsteady halt a few feet away from him. He didn’t look real, somehow. His beauty had always been striking, but now in the low light he seemed like a mirage, with his warm olive skin and contrastingly pale hair, that cut-glass jawline and —

— He turned and met Alec’s gaze with dark brown eyes alight and glassy.

“You’re here,” Alec breathed, at a loss for anything else.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sebastien said, and the sound of his voice sent a wild tingling through Alec’s whole nervous system. The man — vampire — looked uncharacteristically shy, uncertain, as he half turned to face him.

“Gotta say,” Alec said, scratching the back of his head, “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“Should I leave?”

He chewed his lower lip for a second and Sebastien’s eyes tracked the movement before he blinked and looked back at the charcoal in front of him. It was of the Lady Chapel of the cathedral; one of the most tranquil places Alec had ever been. A shaft of light lanced down from a Gothic window high on the right, scattering fractured shards of light onto the stone floor, and behind it, just barely visible as a grey, misty outline, sat the small altar.

“You’re religious?” Alec asked.

“Mm,” Sebastien nodded. “Surprising, I know, given my ‘condition’, but there you have it.”

All the smalltalk then suddenly boiled up into thick irritation inside Alec and he scowled. “Where have you been? And why now? Why come back now? What do you want?”

He must have raised his voice fractionally because the couple admiring the seascape to their left shot them slightly scandalised looks, as if he’d started swearing in a sanctuary, and he bit back the wave of anger, halting it in its tracks.

“Shall we step outside for a moment?” Sebastien asked and Alec nodded tersely.

Passing Kay and Theo who were sitting in the chairs near the drinks table, Alec cast his eyes at them and watched Theo tense visibly. Kay laid her hand on his thigh and shook her head, at which Theo nodded and sat back, eyes hard, mouth set, but at least he didn’t appear to be on the point of leaping out and staking Sebastien on the spot.

Alec mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at them both, and followed Sebastien out on to the street.

“You’ve patched things up with your family then?” Sebastien began, standing perfectly still beside the brick wall of the Victorian building while Alec paced.

“Mostly just with Theo, but yeah. Why are you here?” he asked again.

“Honestly? I missed you. Couldn't get you out of my head. I went all over Europe, and even to Asia briefly, and nothing I did distracted me from you, from leaving you. I had to come back.”

“You could have called,” he said, instantly regretting the way it came out like a petulant teenager’s sulking.

“And what would that have achieved?” Sebastien asked evenly. “I was hundreds of miles away.”

“You could have come back sooner? Talked to me in person?”

Sebastien sighed. “I was afraid that your family would come after me. I needed to disappear.”

“Theo convinced father to let you go. As you said yourself, your name was on the treaty, and you didn’t hurt me or hypnotise me, or whatever… did you?”

“No,” he said, pale brows pinching with evident distaste.

“Could you have?”

Sebastien levelled him with a dark look. “Yes, but… that’s not something I enjoy doing. It’s a survival mechanism — to make people forget what they’ve seen — it’s not something to be used lightly.”

“Ok, but you could have, and you didn’t, so that was another reason to let you go,” he said. God he wanted to kiss him. The realisation hit him like a gut punch and he turned away. Alec ached inside and out for those lips, those hands, those eyes… “Fuck,” he whispered, barely audible. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Alec rounded on him, frustration pouring out of him again. “Don’t answer my question with one of your own. Are you staying or not?”

Sebastien remained eerily calm, but a heartbeat later Alec saw that it wasn’t serenity in his eyes but sadness. “If you want me to, I’ll stay. I want to try again, Alec. I want… I want to be with you. I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you.”

“Feel? As in… present tense?”

“Yes. It hasn’t faded. Not with all the days and distance between us.”

“God, you sound like a shitty romance novel hero…” he scoffed. “I almost believe it.”

Sebastien spread his hands and said, “I am who — and what — I am. You know me, Alec, in a way that no one else ever has. I was utterly myself with you, except for the fact that I kept my nature from you. I hope you can at least understand why, if not forgive me. Everything else was genuine. I have never done that — been that open, that vulnerable — with anyone.”

“Even knowing what my family are?”

“Even then.”

Alec looked up at him and saw his own reflection in those dark, rich brown eyes. “Show me.”

Sebastien’s angelic face soured into a confused frown. “Show you what?”

“Your eyes. Your fangs. Show me what you are.”

“Now?”

He looked around. The street was empty on either side, with the only people around gathered outside a bar further up the street.

When he turned back to say yes to Sebastien, he found blood red eyes glowing in the man’s face. “Holy fuck,” he hissed. Every already-chiselled line on Sebastien’s face had sharpened somehow, his cheeks hollowing a little, perhaps to account for the additional hardware he now sported in his mouth, and his eyes seemed a touch more sunken. And they glowed as if lit from within.

Heartbeat thrumming out a wild tattoo, he stepped closer and Sebastien went utterly still. His chest ceased to rise and fall, and he didn’t even blink as Alec raised his fingers to his left cheek. “Show me.”

Sebastien swallowed and parted his lips. Angling his jaw a little to one side, he showed Alec the elongated canines, three quarters of an inch long. “Careful,” he murmured as Alec made to touch them. “Vampire venom is potent, even in small doses.”

“Does it really do what the hunters say it does?”

Sebastien’s red eyes glittered almost playfully. “I don’t know,” he smiled, seeming to relax a fraction. “What do they say it does?”

“Drives your victims wild, acts like a date rape drug, makes humans lose their will and their inhibitions…”

At that, a hardness returned to his features and his lip twitched in a lopsided snarl, like a wolf backed into a corner. “That’s certainly one take on it,” he said. “It creates a rush of euphoria. It’s supposed to make feeding a pleasant experience for all concerned. Endorphins in the blood make the taste sweeter, and the human feels no pain or fear.”

“Right. Gotta say I like that one better,” Alec said with a shaky smile. “But I’m not gonna risk it right here… And fuck me, your eyes are incredible.”

“They’re still red, hmm?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards a little more towards the cloudy night sky, he inhaled deeply. His features softened again, and Alec watched, fascinated, as the slight bumps behind his closed upper lip slid away into nothing, presumably as his canines retracted into his gums. When he opened his eyes, they were their usual, endlessly dark brown once more.

“Better?” Sebastien asked, oddly self-conscious.

“No,” he said. “Just different.”

Something prickled on the back of his neck and he turned to find a woman silhouetted against the light of street lamp halfway up the road. “Friend of yours?” he asked, tense.

“Felicity. She came with me.”

“Why? Surely you don’t need a wingman… or, you know, woman.”

With a tiny smile, Sebastien said, “You make me more vulnerable than you realise, in more ways than one. And we weren’t sure if your family would be here.”

“Or whether they’d want to flambé you…”

“Precisely.” He inclined his head and the woman did the same, turning and vanishing even as Alec blinked.

“Can you do that too?” he asked, still gawping after her.

When he turned back, he found that Sebastien had stepped in close to him - close enough that his faint, woody cologne wafted gently around them and he felt his knees wobble slightly. He’d missed this. Oh god, he’d missed this. “Mmhmm,” Sebastien hummed. “I can.”

“Kiss me,” Alec whispered. “Please…”

Sebastien didn’t need telling twice. He took Alec’s face in both his hands and crushed a passionate kiss to his lips so hard that Alec’s mind went perfectly blank for a few beautiful seconds. When he came to, he grabbed Sebastien’s narrow hips and tugged him close, making the vampire grunt as their bodies connected.

This time, he took Sebastien’s ponytail in one hand and began to pull on it gently. Sebastien yielded at the pressure and tipped his face back, exposing the entire column of his throat to Alec without resistance. The gesture left Alec stunned and breathless. In his research with Theo over the past months, he had learned that for a vampire to expose their throat to another implied absolute trust. Overwhelmed, he pressed his lips to the bare skin and felt Sebastien gasp, grabbing at his shoulders suddenly to keep himself upright.

Over and over, the vampire shuddered tangibly beneath his touch and gasped sharply again, panting. As he shifted his hips against him, Alec felt Sebastien’s growing hardness, and at the same time, Sebastien drew back, eyes screwed shut. “Stop,” he laughed. “Not here.”

“I want you,” Alec moaned, one hand on Sebastien’s chest. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I want you too,” Sebastien smiled, opening his eyes. They glowed scarlet again. “And because of that, this —” he said, gesturing to his red eyes, “— isn’t going to go away quickly this time.”

“This too?” Alec said, boldly cupping the obvious bulge in Sebastien’s smart black trousers gently with his hand and making the vampire groan.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Your place or mine?” Alec asked with a dizzy grin.

“You decide. I’m booked into a hotel one street over for the next two days,” he said. “If that affects your decision in any way.”

“Yours,” he said. “I… I’ll just…” he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the exhibition banner dangling by the door. “I should…”

Sebastien nodded slowly. “I’ll be here.”

“You’d better be,” he snarled as he adjusted himself and prayed no one would notice. He took a few steadying breaths on the threshold of the town hall and then disappeared inside.

Kay raised her eyebrows at him when he reappeared.

“Not a word,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your hair’s a mess,” she said conversationally. “Is it windy outside?”

“Fuck off,” he grimaced and she laughed. “Where’s Theo?”

“He left out the back way,” she said. “But he told me to tell you to enjoy yourself tonight, and that he’ll stand by whatever makes you happy.”

Unexpected tears prickled his eyes and he tugged her into a hug that was probably meant for his brother.

“You can thank us later,” she said, shoving him off her. “Go be with your Prince of Darkness…”

“I’m not sure how much he’d like you calling him that,” he said as he stepped back. “I’ll have to wrap things up here first…”

It seemed to take forever, but he finally found the events coordinator and after an interminable conversation full of congratulations, agreed to stop by the next day to take down the exhibition and sort the sales out. His heart was thudding when he stepped back outside, but he let out a huge sigh when he saw Sebastien leaning against the brick building, face tilted towards the moon that was just peeking out from behind a bank of cloud.

“It’s like one of your charcoals,” Sebastien said without tearing his eyes from the sky.

Alec crossed to him and smiled when Sebastien met his gaze, red meeting blue. Alec slid his fingers into Sebastien’s where his hand hung quietly by his side.

“Ready?” the vampire asked.

Alec nodded, and let Sebastien lead him back to his hotel.

They barely made it into the lift before Alec was kissing him, backing him into the mirrored sides of the lift with a thud before the doors had even closed. He stopped suddenly, drew back and laughed, and Sebastien — who looked like he’d just got whiplash — asked, “What?”

“Vampires do have reflections after all…”

Sebastien rolled his eyes and gave an indecorous snort-laugh. The sound was rich and warm and it filled Alec’s whole consciousness for a moment. “It’s only the antique ones with genuine silver backing that don’t show our reflections. Technology has evolved, thank goodness. Now, if you don’t mind, you were kissing me senseless…”

“Sorry,” he laughed, grabbing Sebastien’s white shirt collar and tugging him down again. They nearly didn’t get out of the lift at Sebastien’s floor, but as the doors began to close again, Sebastien slid his foot into the path of the doors and dragged Alec out.

Clothes landed in a steady line on the carpet between the door of his hotel room and Sebastien’s bed, ending with them both in only their boxer-briefs on the pristine white surface of the bed. Alec was tipped back onto the duvet and lay there staring up at Sebastien who was now no longer hiding his nature from him at all. Red eyes blazed in his face and as he opened his mouth to breath heavily, the tips of his fangs were just visible. There was no denying that he was a vampire.

“Was it like this before?” Alec asked hoarsely. “I mean… did I just not see it?”

“I had to work very hard to rein all this in,” he said, kneeling on the bed and crawling a little way up it. His own boxer briefs strained at the crotch where his erection tented the fabric, and Alec’s own black ones were stained with a little spot of wetness where his cock twitched with eager interest. “I only let it slip once or twice, but you were distracted at the time.”

Alec smirked and then moaned as Sebastien’s palm skimmed up over his groin and over his stomach. He’d always been a bit self-conscious about the softer parts of him, but Sebastien worshipped him like he was some kind of immortal god, lavishing attention on him over and over until he was shaking and gasping and sweating. “Please!” he begged after what felt like hours. “Oh god, please…”

Sebastien slid off the bed and deftly removed his own underwear before encouraging Alec to lift his hips for him and drawing his boxer-briefs down too. Before Alec could think or process what was happening, Sebastien was between his legs again and had swallowed the entire length of his cock to the back of his throat in one.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, mind whiting out.

Sparks of pleasure shot up his spine as Sebastien worked him alternately with his mouth and his hand.

He teased him, licking the slit at the tip where pre-come beaded profusely now, teasing the delicate folds of skin until Alec thought he was going to shatter apart with want. Just before it got too much to bear, Sebastien would take him back into the wet heat of his mouth and work the underside of his cock with his tongue, swallowing occasionally and making Alec’s head spin all over again.

His balls tightened and he spread his legs wider, instinctively opening himself to Sebastien.

The vampire moaned against his cock and Alec whimpered. Pulling off him, an obscenely inviting thread of saliva and pre-come connecting them briefly, Sebastien sat up and reached for the top drawer of the bedside table. “Vampires neither catch nor transmit diseases,” he said, “But if you still wish to use protection —”

“— I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he rasped. “And I’m clean anyway…”

“As you wish,” Sebastien smiled, withdrawing an almost-new bottle of lube and sitting back down between his legs. Alec eyed it and Sebastien laughed shyly. “I opened it last night…” he admitted and Alec grinned.

That smirk shattered into an open-mouthed groan as Sebastien’s finger slid inside him and he began to prepare him. There was nothing perfunctory about it either. Sebastien took his time to work him open, his fingers fucking into him slowly, almost reverently, until he crooked them and Alec yelled as white-hot pleasure shot through him.

“Still so sensitive,” Sebastien crooned and Alec just shivered in response. His thighs were quivering too now from the effort of not bucking upwards into the empty air, his cock drooling freely over his slightly soft stomach with each futile twitch. He knew he was a wanton mess, and he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care. It seem to drive Sebastien wild anyway.

When Sebastien added a third finger, still stroking up and down his thigh with his other hand, Alec broke.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpered, out of breath and desperate. He cracked his eyes open and looked down at Sebastien to find that his red eyes had been almost eclipsed by his blown pupils. He gave a weak buck of his hips to try and encourage Sebastien to get on with it, but the vampire seemed utterly transfixed by him. He worked his fingers over Alec’s prostate gently but with absolute precision, and it was going to make Alec lose his mind altogether.

“Pleasepleaseplease, I need you, please…” he wailed as Sebastien’s mercifully short and blunt fingernail caught him just so and sent another jolt through him.

Finally the vampire moved, but as he withdrew completely, the loss almost shattered him. “Shh,” he smiled, stroking a soothing circle at Alec’s hipbone. “I’m still here…”

Alec whimpered like a wounded animal but his foggy brain accepted that the loss was only temporary, and he watched as Sebastien took his own flushed cock in his hands and slicked lube up the length of it in a couple of efficient strokes, head bowing under the attention it was receiving at last. He’d focused solely, completely, on Alec’s pleasure for all that time, and the realisation sent a fresh wave of lust rolling through Alec’s entire body.

He spread his legs, but Sebastien caught Alec under his left thigh and raised his leg easily, exposing Alec completely. Before Alec could process anything, his tip was nudging at Alec’s entrance, and then he had sunk all the way in to the hilt.

Sebastien froze then, bowed forwards over Alec like a supplicant, canines openly bared, eyes screwed shut, not even breathing.

“Sebastien… please…” Alec grunted. He’d never felt as full and whole as he had with Sebastien inside him, and yet this wasn’t enough. He’d ached for this. For months, he’d ached for it, and still it wasn’t enough. “Bast, please…”

Finally, the vampire opened his searing red eyes and began to move.

Slowly at first, he picked up his pace until Alec’s back was arching and his fingers clawed great furrows in the sheet beneath him. With each thrust, Alec saw stars at let out little fractured, broken gasps. Sebastien was quiet, almost silent, while Alec himself was unable to stop the sounds from tumbling out of him. He moaned and whimpered, gasped and cursed and begged until Sebastien yanked him further down the bed and lifted his hips a little way off the mattress entirely.

From this new angle, it was so blindingly good that Alec went alternately taut and limp with ecstasy. “I’m close,” he gasped over the slap of Sebastien’s hips meeting his skin.

The vampire snarled then; an inhuman sound that sent the hairs prickling all down Alec’s body.

“Come for me,” Alec begged in a whisper, opening his eyes and watching as Sebastien chased his release with a ferocity he’d never shown before. He wasn’t careless with his strength, but he was certainly forceful. Had Alec wanted to grunt ‘stop’, he knew the vampire would halt, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he watched the flawless perfection of this man above him. “God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Come for me, Bast…”

And at the sound of his name, uttered in little more than an abbreviated wheeze, Sebastien went still, hips spasming as his spine arched back like a bow at full draw, mouth open, head thrown back, fangs bared, eyes rammed shut, a sheen of sweat covering his perfect, bronze chest, his silver hair falling around him like a veil.

The sight of him like that wrenched Alec’s orgasm from him with such sudden force that he almost blacked out, and he clenched around Sebastien’s still-twitching cock as he spilled all over himself. Vaguely, he felt Sebastien trying to withdraw, but he grunted, “Don't… not yet… please… I… unngghh…” Unable to finish the sentence as the last shock waves fluttered through him, Alec went limp against the bed, breathing hard, his blood roaring in his ears.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sebastien did finally move, but eventually he slid his softening cock out of him and Alec grunted at the cool slide of the vampire’s release down his thigh. He was too spent and exhausted to care about the mess though, and as Sebastien collapsed onto the bed beside him, he cracked one eye open.

Sebastien lay on his left side with his cheek pillowed on his bicep, facing Alec with his eyes closed, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. Tentatively, clumsily in the daze of his recent, mind-blowing orgasm, Alec reached out and touched the delicate skin on the inside of his arm. Sebastien jolted like he’d received an electric shock, and opened his eyes. They still burned bright red, but the rest of his face seemed a little softer somehow.

“You alright?” Alec asked.

Sebastien nodded.

“Been a while too, huh?” Alec grinned, flopping back down to stare at the ceiling where little points of light still sparkled across his vision every now and again.

“Not since that last night with you,” he said, words slurred with exhaustion. “Unless you count my rather pathetic climax alone last night, which I certainly don’t.”

“Not at all?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak again. The vampire lay perfectly still — perfectly undead — and perfectly vulnerable beside him without even a sheet to cover him. His cock now lay soft across the top of his right thigh, still drooling a little and making a mess on his olive skin. Not half as much mess as Alec was currently sporting over his torso, he mused with another smile.

With Sebastien showing no sign of stirring, Alec rolled carefully off the bed and headed on shaky legs to the shower. When he returned, Sebastien hadn’t moved, and he slid in beside him, drawing the sheets up around them and lying there to stare at him in the dimness of the unlit room, processing everything. Sebastien was back, and apparently wanted to stay. He could hardly believe how well that day had gone.

Waking the next morning with a cool, lean body pressed against him, Alec sighed, relieved that it hadn’t all been some kind of fever dream brought on by the stress of the exhibition.

The fact that the man next to him was an undead vampire who didn’t breathe in his sleep was a bit unnerving, and the way he had his cheek now resting on Alec’s collarbone and his nose pressed against his neck should also probably have been a bit of a warning, but Alec couldn’t bring himself to move, except to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

Suddenly, as if surfacing from boundless depths, Sebastien’s body heaved and he drew in a great, sucking, rasping inhale through his mouth. His lips brushed against Alec’s pulse and Sebastien began breathing heavily there for a moment.

“That will never not be weird,” Alec murmured.

“Apologies,” Sebastien muttered, trying to roll away. He paused, freezing, and then whispered, “I fell asleep…” as if that was something miraculous.

“Yeah, you passed out almost as soon as we both finished,” he snickered.

Sebastien turned his big, dark, doe eyes on Alec and said, “No, you don’t understand. Vampires don’t just shut down like that the way humans do. We only sleep somewhere we know is secure and safe…”

“Oh,” Alec said significantly as the realisation plunged through him. He tucked his arm under Sebastien’s head and tugged him closer so that their bodies were once again flush with one another. “I’m glad you felt safe…”

Sebastien sighed, trailing his fingertips across Alec’s chest in absent circles. His cock twitched too, and Alec shot him a look.

With a bashful smile, Sebastien said, “I can’t help that I find you attractive, Alec…”

“Wasn't complaining,” he grinned.

It was a long time before they rolled off each other that morning, with the sun well up and the sheets damp with sweat and tangled around their ankles. Vampires, it seemed, had a longer refractory period than humans, but Sebastien also came so big when he did that Alec wasn’t surprised. He gave everything to Alec when he came that Alec could quite happily lie there all day just staring at him as he came down afterwards.

The room was chilly, however, and when Sebastien seemed to have dozed off again around ten o’clock, he headed to clean up. Again.

As the steam billowed around him, he tipped his head back into the stream of searing water and nearly yelped as the shower door opened and let in a rush of cold air as Sebastien stepped into the stall as well. Cool hands found his waist and then strong fingers kneaded his arse appreciatively before Sebastien kissed and nibbled up his shoulder and traps to his neck. Instinctively, Alec tilted his head to one side and Sebastien moaned, pressing open-mouthed kisses there over and over as the hot water coursed around his lips.

The sensation must have been too much for him because he pulled back sharply with a hiss and Alec turned to face him, water still streaming down around them. Sebastien stood frozen, eyes red, staring at Alec’s neck. “I shouldn’t…” he began. “That was stupid of me… I…”

“What happens to the treaty if the human is willing?” Alec found himself asking. He’d thought about it a lot before drifting off the previous night. If Sebastien had wanted to drink from him, to feed on him, what would happen to the tenuous peace between hunters and vampires like him.

“Don’t,” Sebastien said through gritted teeth. His canines were elongated, Alec noted.

“What happens?”

“The only way it’s permitted is if the human agrees by written contract to become the vampire’s source.”

“‘Source’?” he asked. “That sounds like an official title.”

“It is,” Sebastien said, relaxing a fraction and putting his hands back on Alec’s hips. His cock stirred with interest and Sebastien smiled. He leaned back in, as if proving to both of them that he could do this, and kissed down Alec’s neck again from the junction of his jaw all the way to his collarbones. He ground his hips against Alec and they both began to harden again.

Alec’s hand went to Sebastien’s cock and he started to stroke him gently, knowing he was still sensitive from their last round. Sebastien let out a ragged exhale, the cool breath making Alec shiver slightly in the heat of the water.

“So…” Alec pressed gently, thumbing across the top of Sebastien’s flushed cock.

“Hmm?” he asked, a little stunned.

“What is a source?”

“A human becoming a vampire’s source means that the vampire drinks only from that human. It’s… an ancient - ah - custom,” he said, gripping Alec’s shoulders as Alec upped the speed and adjusted his grip to tighten just a little around his now fully hard cock. “Rarely used today, but still… nngh…”

“Mmm?” Alec grinned, loving that the vampire’s thoughts were unravelling under his touch. “Go on.”

“You’re a menace,” he laughed breathily, nipping playfully at his neck and then kissing him hard. Alec’s back suddenly hit the icy tiles behind him and he yelped, rearing into Sebastien who wasn’t all that much warmer, though the heat of the water was raising his body temperature from the ambient temperature of the room.

“So if…” Alec began, somewhat distracted as Sebastien’s kisses continued and the vampire raked his fingers through Alec’s wet hair, scraping luxuriantly across his scalp hard enough to make him break off and groan. “If… if I wanted to become your…”

“Don’t,” Sebastien whispered. “Not yet. Not so soon after… all this time.”

The subtext was clear. Let’s see if this is going to last before I risk my life with the hunters guild and your family, shall we?

“Fair enough. Nothing to say I can’t suck you off now though, right?”

“Nothing at all,” he whispered and then immediately cursed as Alec sank to his knees and did just that.

It was only as he was handing in his own letter of resignation that the truth really sank in for Alec. He’d gone from post-grad assistant in the department to a full lecturer, where he’d stayed for six years, and now he was moving a little way out of the city, and moving in with his boyfriend of a year. A vampire, nonetheless. His life had gone from miserable to wonderful in that relatively short time.

Sebastien met him at the edge of campus after he’d handed the letter personally to the head of department. Standing under the verdant cherry trees, Sebastien looked like a vision. He wore tight, dark jeans and a loose shirt, half untucked, with his long hair tied back in a loose plait, fly-aways wisping around his head like mist. Alec walked straight up to him as the vampire opened his arms, flung his own arms around Sebastien’s neck, and hugged him.

“All done?” Sebastien asked without pulling back.

He nodded and popped back down from his toes. They were both tall men, but Sebastien had a few inches on him still. With a slightly doe-eyed expression, Sebastien smiled and kissed him gently. “I love you,” he said softly between kisses.

“Come on, you big sap,” Alec said. “I’ve got to be out of my apartment at four.”

“Such a romantic,” Sebastien sighed melodramatically.

With Sebastien’s supernatural strength, loading up the little van they’d hired for his stuff didn’t take long, and after giving his keys back to the landlord and signing the final bits and bobs, they were on the road.

The old farmhouse had been a find of Sebastien’s, and it needed some work. “Well, what else am I going to do on long, impossibly sunny summer days while you’re running your own business from the little art studio at the bottom of the garden?” Sebastien had laughed when they’d first viewed it, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead in a terribly ‘put upon’ gesture. “I might as well spruce the place up.”

“It needs more than a light ‘sprucing up’,” Alec had said, brows raised at the rotten wooden beam and the tired 1950’s kitchen. “And don’t tell me you made your wealth flipping houses back in the day.”

“Would you rather I told you I robbed the Bank of England and they still haven’t noticed?” he replied archly before planting a kiss squarely on Alec’s scratchy, stubble-darkened cheek.

With a scowl, Alec had shot him a look. “I honestly don’t know whether that’s a lie or not…”

“It’s a lie,” Sebastien snorted. “I can’t believe you think I’m a criminal.”

“You’re a vampire,” he’d retorted. “You could probably have just walked in there and demanded a small fortune in gold ingots and they wouldn’t have objected…”

“Please. I do have some scruples. And besides, I only use my charms on poor, miserable artists to get into their pants…”

“And their hearts too, apparently,” he’d scoffed as they’d left the dilapidated house with Sebastien’s hand in Alec’s back pocket, fingers firmly cupped around his arse.

It took another six months for the work to be completed, and even with Sebastien’s not inconsiderable talents in the DIY and home improvement departments, they still had to call in a team of builders to fix the pointing in one wall and to sort out a few other structural issues. But by the end of the work, the farmhouse was quite frankly the most stunning place Alec could ever have dreamed of living. Exposed oak beams and a fireplace big enough to park a tractor in were only half of the best features of the place.

One clear, frosty evening in late October, the pair sat outside on the recently finished patio, a small cast iron fire-pit crackling away and sending sparks and heat twisting up into the night sky, a glass of wine each in one hand and their free hand clasped around the other’s.

“Bastien…?” Alec said, not taking his eyes from the mother-of-pearl points of light in the sky above.

“Mmm?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… about becoming your source.” He didn’t miss the sharp inhale from his partner, nor the way Sebastien went completely still in the wooden chair beside him. He also didn’t say anything. “I’d… I’d like to ask how often you’d need to feed from me, and… what the repercussions would be for me as the human…”

Still Sebastien didn’t speak for a long time, and Alec worried he’d spoilt the serenity of their evening with the sensitive question. Finally, the vampire cleared his throat and Alec realised with a jolt that he was near tears.

“Bast?”

At the sound of the pet-name, Sebastien blinked rapidly and two mirroring tears tracked down his cheeks in perfect synchrony. “I thought you’d forgotten all about it,” he said in a hoarse croak. “I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

“You should have done, silly,” Alec groused, and he was met with a watery smile that didn’t meet his eyes at all.

“Well, to answer your questions,” he said, trying to sound unaffected even if he clearly was. “Every three months is safe enough, so long as you take an iron supplement. If you don’t, you might feel a little more tired right afterwards. We generally take slightly less than a person would give at a blood donation, if that helps put it into context.”

Alec turned and frowned at him.

“What?”

“You’ve gone all clinical,” he said, shuffling a little and setting his wine glass down on the edge of the stone fire pit. “Do you not want this anymore?”

Sebastien swallowed thickly and looked away. In the ochre and copper flicker of the flames before them, his suddenly red eyes seemed to glow like coals. “More than you know…” he rasped.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning back to face Alec with glassy eyes. “I’m frightened.”

Alec’s scowl deepened and he rose from his chair to straddle and sink down into Sebastien’s lap. Settled in his new position, he kissed Bast’s lips and stroked his loose, white-blond hair out of his eyes. “Of what?”

“Losing control. It’s been… decades since… If I hurt you, Alec… it would break me.”

“How about we start small? Just a taste?”

Sebastien looked so young then in the firelight. He suddenly looked like the twenty year old man he had been when he’d been conscripted into the army and sent out to battle to die, only to be turned at the eleventh hour by a nurse in a field hospital who’d seen something special in him. Thank god she had, Alec mused.

Alec leaned back a little and brought his index finger slowly to Sebastien’s lips. The vampire swallowed, red gaze drifting down to watch its approach before looking back at Alec’s face, searching, questioning, doubting.

Alec nodded and slid his fingertip a few millimetres into Sebastien’s mouth. The vampire inhaled, closed his eyes, and then opened his mouth properly. Alec brought the pad of his fingertip to the underside of his right canine, and pressed.

After a moment, the pressure gave way and a prick of pain like a needle pierced his skin. A bead of blood welled there instantly and he withdrew to let it swell. Sebastien clearly smelled the blood because his pupils dilated and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Easy,” Alec said. “It’s only a drop.” And with that, he turned his finger over and held it above the tip of Sebastien’s tongue.

Paralysed in a heartbeat of terror, Sebastien sat rigid, frozen, wide eyed, but Alec lowered his finger to meet the slight roughness of his tongue, and Sebastien’s eyes rolled. He moaned and let his tongue play across the tiny pinprick wound, fingers digging into Alec’s hips. The tiny wound had already stopped bleeding, but he sucked gently, drawing a little taste more. Then he released Alec and stared at him, a look of stunned awe on his beautiful face.

“How was that?” Alec asked, briefly thumbing a fond arc across Sebastien’s cheekbone before dropping his hand.

“Manageable,” Sebastien murmured.

“Ok, I have to ask, do I taste good?”

The tense spell that encapsulated both of them broke and Sebastien cracked a smile, fangs and all. “Yes,” he rasped.

“So… I can become your source?”

“If you wish it, yes. You can withdraw the honour at any time. I won’t hold you to it.”

“Good to know,” he said, only half laughing. A moment later, he said, “When… When do you want to start… you know… properly. Formally?”

Sebastien’s eyes had drifted to the rabbiting pulse in his neck.

“Now?” he asked. “It’s only been a few weeks since you went to the blood bank though…”

“That’s…” he said, hands finding Alec’s waist and holding him gently. “That probably works in my favour this time. Are you sure you want this?”

“To be ‘yours’ on your terms as well as mine? Of course,” he smiled, and watched as another tear rolled down his perfect olive cheek. He tilted his head to one side, feeling a little sheepish, and said in barely a whisper, “Whenever you like.”

“Really? Now?” Sebastien hissed, chest suddenly heaving. “Just like that?”

Alec laughed quietly. “It’s not as if we’ve just met. I know you, Bast. I trust you. I wouldn’t offer this to just any old vampire, you know?”

Unable to stop the smile from twisting his lips, Sebastien finally relented with a nod. “Alright. But not here. You’re going to want to be more comfortable.”

“But I’m already comfortable here,” he whined playfully, wiggling his hips in Sebastien’s lap, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan.

With a roll of his red eyes, Sebastien sighed. “Stubborn arse,” he grumbled without sting.

“You love my arse.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do,” he said.

Tenderly he ran his thumb down the line of Alec’s carotid and inhaled deeply. “I love you,” he whispered. And then he leaned close. He took his time kissing Alec’s neck until he was gasping and rocking his hips against Sebastien.

“Please…”

“Last chance,” Sebastien said against the skin of his throat.

Alec shook his head. “I want this. I’m yours.”

So the vampire sank his fangs into the artery. After the initial surprise and sting, Alec’s whole body lit up as the venom hit his bloodstream, and he bucked into Sebastien who held him still with what should have been frightening ease. There was no fear behind the gesture, only longing and love and sweet, aching, rolling, unending pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Alec moaned, going limp in his arms as Sebastien began to feed, withdrawing his fangs to draw more deeply on him while he held him easily in his arms. The vampire moaned, lips locked against his skin so as not to spill anything. The motion of his throat suddenly fascinated Alec as he swallowed down his own life-force, but before he could raise his hand to touch fingertips to his Adam’s apple, pleasure exploded in his mind and he forgot everything.

When he came back to himself, he was inside, lying on their bed, with a small, soft dressing over his neck, and Sebastien sitting quietly on the bed beside him, staring down at him and holding his hand. As he blinked his eyes, he frowned. “What…?”

“It’s intense the first time,” Sebastien murmured fondly. “I did say you’d want to be somewhere more comfortable.”

“ S’perfect,” he slurred. “Fuck me…” he added, more curse than command.

“Maybe later, hmm?” Sebastien smiled. There was a flush to his cheeks that Alec had never seen before, and a brightness to his eyes.

“C’mere,” Alec said, patting the bed beside him. With Sebastien lying silently next to him, Alec rolled over and hooked one leg over Bast’s thigh. “Love you,” he mumbled, sinking into a deep and exhausted sleep, even as Sebastien’s hand came up to cradle his head.

The vampire smiled, kissing his forehead. “I love you too.”

___

Hope you've enjoyed this 23,700k story! Looking forward to your comments as always. Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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[vikingqueer]

music recommendations because i have some thoughts™

i don't wanna be that person who's like "my music taste is so weird lol" but i find that very often most of my friends don't really care for the music i like so i thought i'd just make a long ass post about it on tumblr instead. Fair warning, I'm very passionate about MIKA and The Mechanisms and so this very quickly got VERY long because it is part of my ongoing campaign to convince people to listen to mika and the mechs.

1) MIKA in general, but especially My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019) and No Place In Heaven (2015) (especially the Deluxe version!!)

MIKA is a kind of British singer (half Lebanese, grew up in France blabla), and you probably know him for Grace Kelly and Relax, Take It Easy from his first album Life In Cartoon Motion from 2007. He writes a lot of FUN music, interspersed with the occasional slightly sadder song, especially when looking at an album like No Place In Heaven, which contains a lot of songs with gay themes, resulting in some songs that are just a little bit ouch. He's originally classically trained and has a frankly RIDICULOUS range and idk he just writes very good pop music. Also I have so much respect for that time he talked about how a lot of pop is very fake, with like expensive cars and stilettos and mini skirts in the snow and said "Because I walk down the street, and I don't see any of that. I see fat women and gay men. I don't know... That's real". He's written 5 albums; My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019), No Place In Heaven (2015), The Origin Of Love (2012), The Boy Who Knew Too Much (2009), and Life In Cartoon Motion (2007).

For starters, I recommend listening to Last Party, Origin Of Love, Grace Kelly, Blame It On The Girls, Blue, Happy Ending, Pick Up Off The Floor, Last Party, Underwater, Tomorrow and Tiny Love (yes this is a long list but i REALLY love MIKA). If you want a slightly broader palette that's not just my favourites, I recommend the Mika starter pack on spotify.

2) The Mechanisms. I warn you. I am making this a thing. I have been obsessed with the mechs since last march.

Boy, where to start? The Mechanisms were a British 9 member space pirate story-telling cabaret that "died" in January 2020. They rewrite songs to fit retellings of various stories. I don't even know what genre I'd describe them as, but probably folk but steam-punk?? Their 4 "main" albums are concept albums, and I honestly just recommend listening to the from beginning to end in chronological order. A good way to get into the mechs is also to listen to UDAD and then watching the live show on youtube or alternately try giving Death To The Mechanisms a listen, to get good quality live show audio of TBI and various other stuff. Also, it was streamed on YouTube and someone combined the footage with the album audio and it rocks. Really, I think the mechs' best selling points are honestly just their concept albums:

Once Upon a Time (In Space) Their first album from 2012. I'd say this is the most "easily digestible" for the general public, since it's a retelling of various fairytales. So, what if Old King Cole was in fact not merry, but rather a cold-blooded dictator, intent on colonising as much of the galaxy as possible. What if Snow White was a general, looking to avenge what King Cole did to her sister, Rose. What if Cinderella was to be wedded to Rose the day that King Cole attacked in order to kidnap Rose? But y'know, In Space and also like every other mechs album it's a beautiful tragedy. Fave songs are Old King Cole, Pump Shanty, and No Happy Ending.

Ulysses Dies at Dawn You guessed it, it's a story about Odysseus, or Ulysses because I guess Ulysses is easier to rhyme or fit in the meter or something, idk. Ulysses is a war hero of unknown gender who is said to keep something that could take down the corrupt Olympians, meanest families in the City, in a vault to which only they know the passcode. Oedipus, Heracles, Orpheus, and Ariadne have been hired by Hades, who happens to be The Mechs' quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, to get into Ulysses' vault. I didn't care much for udad at first, but honestly it's got some real bangers and the story is really good. UDAD weirdly stands out as the only of the concept albums to not feature any gay relationships, per se. Fave songs are Riddle of the Sphinx, Favoured Son, and Underworld Blues.

High Noon over Camelot This is my favourite mehcs album. So basically, this is Arthurian legend, but it's a space western and Jonny D'Ville does a bad southern accent. This is the story of the cowboy lovers Arther, Lancelot, and Guinevere searching for the Galfridian Restricted Acces Interface Login, or GRAIL, in order to stop their world from falling into the sun. Meanwhile, Mordred and Gawaine are ruling Camelot, and Mordred has convinced Gawaine to try to establish peace with the Saxons by whom Mordred was raised, but Gawaine hates viciously. If you love getting your heart broken and songs by a fucking off the rails batshit preacher I HIGHLY recommend hnoc. Fave songs are Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard, Blood and Whiskey, and Once and Future King. Honorary mention for Hellfire because it awakens something animalistic in me.

The Bifrost Incident TBI is the frankly only good adaptation of norse mythology I've ever known of, and I say that as Dane who was literally forced to learn things about norse mythology in school because it's my heritage or whatever. I've been listening to TBI a lot lately because it's VERY good. It's definitely the most refined of the mechs' albums (because it's the newest) but also I just love a little bit of cosmic horror. 80 years ago, Odin, the All-Mother, ruler of Asgaard, launched a train through the wormhole Bifrost that would reduce the travel between Asgaard and Midgaard from 3 months to 3 days, but things didn't go quite as planned. Lyfrassir Edda of the New Midgaard Transport Police is trying to solve the case of why suddenly the train has arrived 80 years late; to figure out whether it was accident or maybe it was sabotaged by Loki, who was allegedly sentence to death her murder of Baldur, by the Midgaardian resistance led by Loki's wife Sigyn, or maybe by Thor, who was to take over after Odin, and who holds quite the grudge because he used to be a friend of Loki's. You might've heard the song Thor from this album, it's apparently quite popular. Fave songs are Loki, Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting, and Ragnarok V: End of The Line. Yet again an honorary mention: Red Signal because while Lovecraft was a bitch, his invocations are fucking RAW.

Basically, the Mechanisms do all of their performances in character as captain first mate Jonny D'Ville, quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, pilot DrumBot Brian, master-at-arms Gunpowder Tim, science officer Raphaella la Cognizi, doctor Baron Marius Von Raum (neither a baron, nor a doctor), archivist Ivy Alexandria, engineer Nastya Rasputina, and The Toy Soldier, who is, as usual, present. You can find very obscure lore about the crew of the Aurora here, tidbits on Tales To Be Told and TTBT Vol. 2, such as One Eyed Jacks, The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard, Gunpowder Tim vs. The Moon Kaiser, Lucky Sevens, and Lost in the Cosmos.

If you feel like listening to a full 40-50 minute album to find out if you like a band is a bit much, I recommend listening to one of the mini stories Alice, Swan Song, or Frankenstein, which are about 12, 5 and 9:30 minutes respectively.

3) The Amazing Devil You know that guy who played Jaskier in the Witcher? I got into The Amazing Devil from spotify recommending them because I listened to the mechs, and apparently Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil is the same Joey Batey who was in the Witcher. Both him and Madeleine Hyland are VERY talented singers and songwriters and their second album The Horror and the Wild makes me go out into the forest and SCREAM. I listened to it on repeat for like a month straight. I guess they'd also be considered folk, but like. New Folk. Also yes, this is another British artist, I don't know why I'm like this. I've never really gotten that into their first album, Love Run, but King slaps. As I understand there's this whole lore about the Blue Furious Boy and Scarlet Scarlet, Joey and Madeleine respectively, but unlike the Mechanisms it's actually possible to find out things about the actual real people and harder to find the obscure lore? I'm open for people to please help me. Fave songs are The Horror and the Wild, Farewell Wanderlust, and That Unwanted Animal, which is literally a third of their second album, but again. I haven't really listened to Love Run that much, and I just LOVE the harmonies on THATW. (also im gay and dramatic leave me alone)

4) dodie I have so much love for this woman. Like many others, I first knew dodie as doddleoddle on youtube. I think I first stumbled across her in probably 2015, because I distinctly already knew her before she released her first EP Sick of Losing Soulmates in 2016. I think I watched probably every video she's ever made in the span of a few weeks. I just loved her quiet sound and was absolutely HOOKED. Also she's actually the reason I got into MIKA originally, so thanks for that. Dodie just realeased her first album Build A Problem (in addition to her three EP's; the one mentioned above, You, and Human) and it slaps. Yes dodie is also British Fave songs are probably Monster, Rainbow, and In The Middle.

5) Cladia Boleyn Unfortunately, Claudia Boleyn only has three singles and that's it. She's been making content on youtube for quite a while, and that's how I first discovered her. I don't know what genre her music is, but I like it. The songs are Celesta, George, and Mother Maiden Crone, of which the latter is my favourite. I'm not saying Claudia Boleyn invented women in 2017 when she released Mother Maiden Crone, but she did. Also you guessed it, Claudia Boleyn is British.

6) Hozier I'm not about to tell you about Hozier. You know who he is. Listen to Nina Cried Power, Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene, and Shrike. Also Hozier isn't stricly British in that he is definitely from A British Isle, but Ireland is not part of the UK. Give me a break.

7) Oh Land Oh Land IS DANISH. I like her early music best, because I'm not that into the electronic sound. I guess Oh Land is just you regular old pop, but with the occasional weird vibe? Oddly enough, I like her first album Fauna best. Unfortunately I haven't really listened to her newest album Family Tree much, but it seems good? Fave songs are Frostbite, Love You Better and Family Tree. I cried on the bus, first time I listened to the Danish version of Love You Better, Elsker Dig Mer because my mother tongue always just hits harder. Also Frostbite is Oh Land doing a duet with herself which is pretty cool.

8) Oysterband This is a live recommendation. I mean they're a decent folk band and all, but they're a fucking experience live. If you like folk and you ever get the opportunity to see Oysterband live, do it. Unfortunately, yes. They are British. Either way, they are incredible on a scene and I think they deserve a mention for that.

9) Ben Platt Honestly don't know much about this guy, but he's not British and he was in Dear Evan Hansen. He released an album in 2019, Sing To Me Instead, and I just think it's a good album, there isn't really not much more to it. Fave songs are Grow As We Go, Bad Habit, and In Case You Don't Live Forever.

and thats all for now. this has been a ramble. shout out to you if you actually read all of this, especially the mechs part.

[baconpal]

pokemon rant time

this one’s about the 2 new things, and is at least slightly intended for people actually excited/interested in them, click keep reading or perish

Gonna try and keep stuff short cus there's a lot of topics this time and I've already gone off about how pokemon Isn't meant for me or meant to be a good video game anymore, but gamefreak is right back on their bullshit, so I feel I need to at least point it out.

I'd like to preface all this with, if you are a fan of pokemon still, please realize you can ask for more out of this series. Expect perfection, even if you don't think you'll get it anytime soon. Pokemon won't go anywhere, the old games won't go anywhere, and gaming is a hobby, not a necessity; don't accept low quality products from a company just because you feel like you're supposed to.

With this next wave of pokemon games, gamefreak is clearly testing how little they can put in to a $60 game while still keeping the 2 major audiences they've cultivated. By responding to the most obvious and vocal complaints from the community, gamefreak is aiming to make games that seems like what most players want, without having to put in the work on quality products.

GEN 4 REMAKES Pokemon BS (I am not calling this shit BDSP) is intended for the audience that put up with let's go and RS remakes. The most vocal and obvious complaints for these games is their failure as definitive versions of the games they are remakes of, such as missing features/content, or drastically changed story/dialogue/style. In a way, the recent remakes are inferior versions of incredibly old games, which shows a lack of improvement in pokemon as a whole.

To address these issues, BS is very, very, VERY clearly aiming for a more 1-to-1 recreation of the DS games, but with fully 3d graphics. Clearly the map layout has been transferred exactly, and gen 4 already had mostly 3d environments to begin with, and everyone knows about the future-proof pokemon models at this point, so the amount of effort required to create something like this is absolutely minimal. Assuming dialogue, trainer teams, move lists, etc. are also lifted directly from DP, then this game could be developed in basically no time at all, leaving the team time to ensure the product is of decent quality and includes ALL of the content of the originals, if not more, like the earlier pokemon remakes did to ensure they were truly definitive versions of the games. That being said, it is unlikely the team behind BS has been making use of this saved time to improve the game.

One failing already clear is that the quality is not very good, at least graphical quality. The footage we have shows environments lacking in color compared to the original, with messy, unpleasant textures that contrast poorly with the simplistic environments. The characters especially do not work. As cute and fun the fanart of tiny dawn has been, BS dawn and all other characters look awful. They have gorilla arms that reach down to the floor and lifeless faces, as well as incredibly stiff/simplistic animations. As it stands, BS is a visually inferior game to DP, though most consumers will simply see it as 3D>2D without any understanding of what an artstyle is, so this might not be a problem for many, but that doesn't mean you should accept it.

What remains to be seen is what content will be added/missing from pokemon BS. It is very possible that massive parts of the game, such as the underground, variety of online modes, postgame areas, and content from platinum could be missing entirely. We also do not know if pokemon from after gen 4 will be worked into the region, or even supported. Gen 8 still currently does not support a large number of pokemon, and the remakes may continue this limited dex trend.

Even assuming the remake includes everything from the DS games and doesn't add anything that slows down the story or harms the experience, it will still only be an exercise in forced obsolescence. The main reason people can't really play DP still is that the online isn't supported anymore. If BS turns out to be exactly the same as DP, then you're buying the same game for at a higher price, only to play it until the online service goes away again, or the next game comes out, if both don't happen at the same time.

Don't let yourself buy a 13 year old game at twice the original price.

GEN 4 NOT-REMAKE KIND OF NEW THING On to legends now, gamefreak is targeting the people who put up with sun/moon and sword/shield. The obvious problem with those games to most people was simply a lack of change from the standard pokemon formula. Even when changing the gyms to trials or stadiums, most people still understand that the format and story structures are mostly unchanged. Of course, this problem has seemingly been addressed by changing the game structure a fair bit, but almost entirely by removal.

Trainer battles, and by extension, gyms and tournaments/elite 4 have been confirmed to be absent, meaning all battles are only vs single pokemon, in spite of the player likely having a team of 6 pokemon. Even if battle difficulty is increased to compensate (doubtful), this will still drastically increase the simplicity of combat and make it even less likely for the game to include any meaningful challenge. Exploring towns and meeting NPCs is also seemingly missing, as the game is confirmed to have only a single village, which frankly looks incredibly boring and we've yet to see a single NPC inhabiting the village.

Battles now use an ATB format instead of a turn-based format (for those of you who don't know what that means, it basically means nothing, it's still turn based, it just means the speed state determines who gets more turns instead of who goes first, that's it), but beyond that there seems to be no noteworthy changes, pokemon learn 4 moves with limited PP, type advantage will still definitely be the most important aspect to battle, and the player being able to walk around during battle provides no meaningful impact. While the little dash the pokemon do to approach each other is cool, it is already a sign that gamefreak will not be addressing the issue of lacking animations for pokemon battles, as they can't even be assed to animate and program pokemon walking around the environment during combat, and lucario doing 1 kick for a move described as a series of punches isn't a great sign either.

On the topic of lacking animations, the new "pet simulator feature" for legends seems to be an advancement on the ride system from sun/moon, which presumably people missed from sword/shield. Being able to ride on your pokemon to do stuff sounds cool, but in all likelihood, this system will be limited to only a select few pokemon who will each do a select few actions, and is not a reasonable replacement for all the other pet raising features that have been removed in the past. Similar to BS, the total number of pokemon included may also be limited arbitrarily, in spite of the fact that no new pokemon need to be added, as these games are not claiming to be a new generation.

The largest issues I personally have with this new game is the horrible technical quality and gameplay quality shown in the initial trailer. Unfortunately, these types of problems seem to be difficult to explain to the average consumer, even though the issues seem incredibly obvious and inexcusable to people like me.  Most people were able to understand the problem with the berry trees in gen 8, because it was easy to explain, "this tree doesn't look like the other trees, and it sticks out, isn't that weird?", and so gamefreak has eliminated any immediately obvious issues like that, sticking with a very consistent artstyle for legends, making it almost impossible to easily explain its faults to the average pokemon fan.

People have been really quick to compare legends to BoTW; the game that invented grass, trees, and mountains. In spite of these comparisons, nobody seems to point out that legends looks dramatically worse than that almost 5 year old game from the previous generation. Plants are stiff and lacking in energy, draw distances are poor, colors are drab, and textures are messy. Many parts of legends seems to ape BoTW on just the surface, essentially just following market trends. Even the controls seem to follow after modern 3rd person shooters/stealth games, including a seemingly pointless roll and a clunky looking ball lobbing arc that feels unfun before even getting to play it myself.

The largest issue, painfully obvious to some, and impossible to explain to others, is the framerate. The trailer clearly was ran on actual switch hardware, and not prerendered, which would be a good mark for gamefreak if it didn't result in a trailer that never once hit 30fps. Even with empty fields, with only 1 or 2 characters on screen, the game was incapable of meeting the target speed, and had to resort to optimizations like reducing the frame rate of pokemon only inches away from the player to stop-motion levels of choppy. If situations with almost nothing going on result in slow-down, how will the game perform during actual gameplay? Even though slow-down is something everyone can feel, many people aren't capable of identifying it.

The major things to wait and see for legends is if the removed aspects of the series are made up for by some additional systems or content, and definitely wait to see if the performance improves. As with BS, preordering a game like this only shows that gamefreak only has to market the game by saying it's different, not improved, like they've been doing for years now.

TL;DR FUCK GAMEFREAK One major thing of note is that gamefreak is releasing 2 games based on gen 4 at the nearly the same time, meaning they have no obligation to design new pokemon or even include pokemon not from sinnoh, and also that the sales of each game can be used as an indicator for which of their 2 audiences is more loyal to them. Both BS and Legends are in a position to be pushes aside if they fail, but if either succeeds, gamefreak can continue in the direction of the more successful game and reap the benefits, without any need to innovate, improve, or adapt to criticism.

The last thing I feel I have to remind people about is that gamefreak is a company; you don't need to be "grateful" to them. I've seen that word thrown around far too much by people who seem to buy pokemon games like its a tax, and not something they want to do. You don't have to suck up to a company that made games you liked as a kid if the games aren't what you want anymore. Pokemon is so wildly successful that it can't possible die, so don't buy the games out of pity, or out of some feeling of obligation. Buy the video games you want to play and nothing more.

Basically, if you are considering getting any of these new games, please wait until the games are out before purchasing them, and decide for yourself if they are worth your money, and more importantly, your time. Preordering these games only lets gamefreak know their audience will buy and put up with anything. They have no real competition at the moment, so the only thing the audience can do to encourage improvement is show some of restraint.