#I had to use different scenarios (other than just a gunshot) to keep it interesting for myself

[fallout-friends-react]

Hi! Not really sure how to ask these things lol.

Would you be up for writing a fo4 companions react for a gender non specific (or even simply not mentioned) sole, getting shot in the hand and have to amputate a few fingers? If that’s too gory, I understand! Thank you!

Thank you for reading, farewell, have a good day.

Cait: The adrenaline of a firefight kept Sole from realizing their own injury. When things died down, Cait pointed to their hand. "Lost something, haven't ye?" Sole raised their bloodied hand to their face. One finger gone, and another just barely hanging on. They yelped and scurried about, hoping to find their lost appendage. "Shut yer pie hole. Come 'er." Sole handed over their,, hand. Cait took the dangling digit in her hand, and yanked the thing right off. Sole screamed directly in her face. "Oh please, I did ye a favor."

Curie: There's no one better to be with when you get injured. When Sole's hand was injured they were sure they were going to lose some, if not all fingers. Such is the way of wasteland life. "Oh calm down I've got you. No need to worry at all." Her voice was so confident and reassuring, Sole couldn't help but relax a little. Curie expertly administered first aid, and was even able to reattach some fingers they would have otherwise lost.

Codsworth: Sole and Codsworth found themselves suddenly swarmed by molerats. Jumping this way and that, their teeth audibly chomping as they went. One molerat managed to get hold of Sole's hand. They yelped. Codsworth dealt with the rats at hand, as quickly as he could. He quickly approached Sole, who was on their knees, holding their hand. "Is everything alright sir/mum? Are you perhaps injured?" Sole held up their hand, missing exactly one finger. All three of Codsworth's eyes focused on it. "Oh dear." He said sadly. "Unfortunately I don't have much for that right now. Which would you rather have?" He held up two arms. In one, a flamethrower, presumably to cauterize the wound. In the other, a box of sugarbombs. Sole couldn't help but laugh. "I'll take the sugarbombs thanks."

Danse: After swiftly dispatching a group of super mutants. Danse lowered his guard. It lasted seconds. Sole was screaming his name. Danse's mental alarm ringing in his ears, he quickly ran over to them. "What is it? What's wrong?" Sole held up their hand, which was a few fingers less than normal. Evidently a mutant that had been blindly spraying bullets in their direction, actually hit them. "Oh. It's just that." As he was administering first-aid, Sole yelled, "JUST THAT?! I'VE LOST SOME FINGERS!!!" Danse sighed, "I know plenty of fine brothers that have lost far more than that. You'll be fine soldier."

Deacon: Sole and Deacon were wandering around downtown Boston. Sole's guard was way too far down, considering their surroundings. A shot rang out, followed by a burning sensation in Sole's hand. After taking cover, Sole realized they'd lost a pinkie. After a string of curses, some of which Deacon had never heard, he picked up their lost digit. "Think I could get a good amount of caps for this?" He laughed.

Dogmeat: AAA BARK BARK ARE U OK BARK BARK

Hancock: Sole and Hancock stumbled into some dilapidated old bar. After handling a group of Gunners, they needed a moment to collect themselves. Hancock propped himself on the bar counter and laughed, "well that was fun." He looked back at Sole, who was looking at their hand, dripping blood. "Oooh." His pitch lowered. Sole slowly approached him, and silently showed him their hand. A couple fingers dangled. It was gross. Without saying much, Hancock took out a knife from his back pocket. "Do you want me to do it, or do it yourself?" Sole clenched their jaw, they knew it needed to be done. They plopped their hand on the bar table and closed their eyes. Hancock sighed and readied himself. "Alright then."

MacCready: MacCready is no stranger to wounds, especially those caused by firearms. That's just part of the job when you work for the Gunners. Funny enough it was that same group that caused his current predicament. Sole was panicking. A gunner aimed at the hand that held Sole's weapon, and they hit their mark. MacCready was holding Sole's bloodied hand in his own, trying to figure out a way to help. "Would you PLEASE STOP moving." MacCready thought he said it sternly, but his voice was shaky. He was panicking just as much as Sole. Turns out, in his case, no amount of experience prepares you for emergencies.

Nick: Sole and Nick, minding their own business in the wastes. A peaceful day, it seemed. Until a lone super mutant sicced its mutant hound on them. Nick scuttled behind a tree, and took care of the super mutant. Sole, on the other hand, was slow to the uptake. They didn't realize what was going on until the hound had already taken a chomp out of their non-dominant hand. Thankfully both were eradicated before any more injuries were sustained. "We sure made quick work of that huh?" Nick smiled, until he saw Sole's hand. Looking at where their fingers should have been, all he could say was, "well would you look at that."

Piper: After fending off a gang of raiders, Piper slumped down on the ground next to Sole. "Christ, I don't know how much more of this I can take." She was clearly out of breath. Sole's silence made Piper sit up and check on them. They sat, staring at their hand, blood pooling on the ground between their legs. "Blue, are you-" Sole moved their shaky hand closer to Piper, causing her to lurch away from them. "GET THAT MESS OU T of my FACE." She squealed. Sole begged for help. "Oh god I'm gonna be sick..."

Preston: Some unorganized raiders attempted to attack the well fortified Sanctuary. Sole, Preston, and several other residents dispatched them quickly, but not before Sole got hurt. They called out to Preston, making him quickly spin around to face them. He'd never seen their face go pale like that. One of their fingers was hanging on by a thread, assumed to have been caught by a stray bullet. Preston quickly took up their dripping hand in both of his. "Preston I- what do I-" their voice was shaky. "General." "but I-" "GENERAL." Preston seldom yelled. It caused Sole to focus on him. "It'll be okay. Let's see if we can find someone to help you out here, alright?" His calm voice reassured Sole.

Strong: Strong liked to complain, but he didn't like listening to Sole complain. The fight between them and some rogue robots had long since been over but Sole was still screaming about having a couple fingers lasered off. Luckily for them, it cauterized the wound. "I just can't believe this, it hurts so MU-" Sole was cut off by Strong screaming at them. "STOP TALKING. PUNY HUMAN WEAK. STRONG NEVER LOSE FANGER. BE QUIET." He groaned loudly and stomped off. Sole was stunned........"fanger?" He had misspoke.

X6-88: Sole squealed loudly. Their own bullet ricocheted off a steel barrel and somehow hit them in their own hand. They were shaking, "X6 I- what,.. what do I do! I don't think these fingers are gonna make it. Shit I don't know if I'm gonna make it." X6 didn't respond. He was busy cleaning up what Sole missed. "X6 PLEASE." After finishing the job they left for him, he stood over them. "You'll be fine. The institute doctors can make you new ones." He said flatly.

[lovearne]

The Mandalorian

Warnings: Written like two years ago, never posted it though, I don't think. Female reader

Word count: 1.2K

The small coos brought me towards him. Ignoring the same noises outside that have plagued us since we’ve left. We have been with this particular group for a few months, they always take the base and stand guard, waiting. As I got closer to the cradle, his tiny three fingers, green hand reached up, towards me. Wanting me to pick him up and hide him from the noise, keep him safe. Just as I go to reach for him, the building shakes. Dust settling all around us. I reach inside the orb, and push his little hand back in, hoping that he will be okay. I quickly press the button on the floating cradle, it closes completely. As it closes the child gives a little whimper. Thinking quickly, I push his cradle into an abandoned corridor. 

“I’m sorry little guy.” I whisper as I move to a pile of rubble, a few feet in front of him, planning to take on the threat. I get myself into an albeit uncomfortable position, but definitely a good position, for defence. As I crush myself so I am less visible, voices fill the air. One I can identify as a droid, however, the other sounds like a man. It’s a different voice than I have heard since the little one and I had left. There have been so many voices over the years, but never one like this. Sure, I’ve heard plenty with a modulator, including the very deep and heavily breathed Vader, and the wookie race, but never somebody with this voice.

They came around the corner, guns drawn. The droid is an IG-11 and the man, well he was dressed in coloured metal, I can only imagine that it is steel. Interesting. Well, his helmet is shiny, so there's that. I can’t make out if he is the lead or not. I decide to sit and watch, with any luck, they will just take the base, similarly to the one before them. The man says something, I am not interested in listening to what they actually say, just his voice. Like a calm and soothing storm. They bicker back and forth about life signals and whatnot. 

The man presses a button on the orb, as they drew nearer, I got myself ready for anything they try. To my surprise, the man looks almost appalled at the fact that his bounty is a child. 

“It’s a child? I was told it was 50 years old.” The man says in slight disbelief. The droid turns and examines the child.

“Species age differently” Is all I caught from the droid, as I was too busy analysing the man. The droid would be fairly easy to take out, I could see the wiring from here, just one tug and he’s down. But the IG-11 also has a self-destruct sequence, and I definitely don’t want to trigger it. The man on the other hand, I couldn’t figure out. Where could I hit him to hurt him the most, that isn’t covered by the steel, besides the fact that I find him interesting. Maybe I will steal one of his guns and shoot the droid, but I have to be fairly quick on the draw in order to get him as well. I also have no clue how many weapons he has hidden in his armour. It’s a game of chance, and the child’s life is not something I want to risk on a chance.

As I am too caught up in scenarios and running the numbers and odds in my mind, there is a gunshot. My head snaps up. The bounty hunter is standing holding his hand out to the child, the droid is laying on the ground, his head giving off steam. The bounty hunter shot the droid, this changes things.

It’s time to get this show up and running. I stand up and dust my clothing rags. I make myself look more believable, rubbing dirt on my face, and making myself look dirtier than I regularly am. And I am ready. Show time.

I stumble myself out of my hiding space. “Oh, Obe!! Where did you go Obe?!?!?!”  I frantically call out. “My child!!!!! Obe!!!!!!” I add, just for a little flare. I look around and glance at the bounty hunter, then I hear a small coo, yes! He remembered. Not the first time we used this trick. His small hand is poking out of the orb. I storm over to the orb, “My Baby!!!! Oh kriff, Obe, you’re alright!!!!!” I pick the child up. “Oh my baby, its okay, you’re alright, thank kriff!!!” I squeal while holding the child tightly to my chest. Squeezing him into a hug. He coos again and giggles. “There are people out there worse than Demagul himself, oh, baby. I’m so glad you are alright!!” I kiss his head a couple of times, then smushing my face into his belly.

“Excuse me,” There is a throat cleared, just behind me. “I, Don’t mean to interrupt,  there must be some sort of confusion.” I turn to look at him. Gazing up at his helmet, all I could see was my own reflection. 

“What?” I pause, “You killed those men, so now me and Obe here, go with you.” I inform him. Is he, is he alright? Does he have heat stroke from all the heat in that body armour. It looks a little burned. Oh, no its just red.

“The kid, you, neither of you look 50 years old.” He explains. My face must show the confusion I feel.

“You got a tracker, or beeper or whatever, and it led you here, right?” I ask him, still cuddling the little baby in my arms. 

“I had a tracking fob and it led to that Orb.” He points towards the cradle. Does the kid have a Dad that made it, or maybe an uncle.” I am looking for a 50 year old. And neither of you fit that description.” He looks down at me, “You don’t look a day over 20.” 

I look up in disbelief. “What makes you think, I didn’t make the carrier?” I ask him, frowning.

“It looks a lot older than you do.” He states, shaking his head after. “Just tell me where your baby’s Dad is” His head moves down to look at the child, the glare on his helmet shining right in my eye. 

“He doesn’t have a father, why? Do you want to apply? Because, sorry, but the helmet is kinda too shiny to stick around comfortably.” I inform him as I rub my eyes, the glare being too  much.

His helmet moves again, so his eyes are on me. “No, his Father would obviously be the bounty.” The man was getting more irritated as the seconds past. I shake my head, this man is infruriating. 

“Ok, I’m going to tell you one more time, we are your bounty.” I explain to him. 

“My bounty is supposed to be 50. Neither of you are and your ages don’t even add up to 50.” He again, is in disbelief. I shrug.

“Some species age differently, that’s just how it is.” I explain again.

“Then you are coming with me, to my ship, willingly.” He says and grows rigid. “I don’t want to have to shoot a baby, or its mother.” 

“Alright, lead the way.” I nod.

[howggswouldreact]

⌨️ Non-Zero-Sum Game | Sunmi

Request: Hey can I request a fluffy scenario where the reader is playing video games and Sunmi is bored so she tries to distract the reader? Thanks Plot: Sunmi goes to Reader's apartment after work, but it seems like Reader has something more interesting to do than to give her attention. Words: 1, 859 Genre: fluff Notes: i loved writing this one!!!! have a nice read! ♡♡

You were so focused that you didn't notice the sound of the key in the door, the door opening or even the sound of high heels echoing in the living room and stopping, being replaced by ladybugs slippers extremely comfortable for those white and tired feet, who walked slowly to the room you were in.

Nor could you hear these sounds with a headset at a high volume, with shots of different types of assault rifles and hand grenades exploding.

You also didn't notice the smell of the sweet perfume that took over the room, a smell that you used to praise every time it got stuck in your nose. Almost all of your senses were too focused on what was going on in those three huge screens in the computer desk positioned on the wall opposite to the entrance to that room.

On the screen, you had some goals: to kill members of the opposing team, to keep yourself and your teammates alive and, above all, to arm and activate a bomb in the enemy's defense field. It was not as difficult as it seemed, the hardest was to find a good team - which you, luckily, had already found - and set up a strategy.

Sometimes, these games were not just fun for you, they were a healthy competition and a challenge for your brain.

"On your right, gashinassassin!", you heard the high-pitched voice of your teammate, thej0k3r (or, as you called her since middle school, Sieun), alert you.

Your fingers worked nimbly on the keyboard and mouse, pressing the right keys and buttons to aim and fire at the right time, moving your avatar to the left side in order to hide behind the wall to get out of the opponent's sights. A colorful game with such realistic graphics on screens that size made you feel part of it, as if you were really there.

You felt your headset being pulled from your left ear and, before you could turn around, soft lips landed where the headset had been.

"Hmmm... I just arrived the apartment and this so-called gashinassassin didn't even give me a kiss...”, a sly voice found the tunnel to your eardrums and went straight to your stomach, waking up the butterflies that lived there.

It was her.

You grinned largely at the beautiful woman next to you.

"Hey, bab-"

Your voice was interrupted by the loud gunshot in your right ear and an effect you haven't heard in a while. Headshot. You looked back at the giant screen and blurted out a curse. A shot right in the middle of your avatar’s head!

"Now that you've died in the game, I deserve a decent ‘welcome, love’. Don't you think?", suggested Sunmi, still in the same clothes she wore before leaving your apartment early in the morning for an appointment.

You held up a finger as if asking her to wait a minute and adjusted the headset while listening to your team putting together another strategy. Now, your avatar was at the “starting base”. 15 seconds to "resurrect" and return with all energy in the game.

"Guys, I'll be right back, my girlfriend has arrived.", you said it pretty fast and, before you could hear any mockery from your friends, removed the headset and dropped it next to the mouse.

"Come here.", you called Sunmi, pulling her by the hand.

Sunmi sat on your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck, a tight hug. You sought her lips with yours and she let you smudge her lipstick. It didn't matter now that her makeup was all ruined, as long as you showed how much you missed her.

Ending this long kiss with short kisses, you smiled as you noticed Sunmi's completely smudged lipstick.

"You look like the Joker."

"I hope you're referring to the real Joker and not Sieun.", Sunmi raised an eyebrow and got up from your lap.

"Ewwww! No! Not at all!", you purposefully shook your body from head to toe and made a face of complete disgust.

Sunmi laughed as she ran her fingers through her hair, pinning it up in a bun at the top of her head.

"I'm going to take a shower. When I get back, forget about this game. I’m bored and wanna spend some time with my love.", she didn't wait for an answer and went straight to the bathroom in the suite.

"This is the last one-" you said, your answer being the bathroom door slamming shut.

Ever since she left the bathroom, Sunmi realized that your focus on the game was intense. She was wearing one of her baggy t-shirts and plaid pants, her hair still tied up. After so many hours dedicated to a program and participating in a competition game with other idols, Sunmi just wanted to spend time with you, watching a movie lying on top of you, kissing you now and then and enjoying that comfortable silence that only the two of you had.

Wanting to draw your attention to her, Sunmi grabbed your shoulders and started a massage. She kissed the top of your head, just above the curve of the headset.

"Farther to the right," you said, without taking your eyes off the screen.

"On the right shoulder?", she asked, placing both hands on your right shoulder.

"There."

She smiled, continuing the massage.

"NOW DOWN, DOWN, DOWN!!", you shouted, Sunmi almost fell backwards, startled.

"Idiot, were you talking to the people in the game???"

You took off your headset and turned slightly to the side, facing a Sunmi with her right hand resting on her chest, breathing fast.

"Sorry, it's very difficult around here...”, you pointed to the screen. “Did I scare you?"

Just Sunmi's angry look was enough of an answer.

"Sorry, baby, I'm going to finish here and I'll give you attention. It's gonna be really quick, okay?", you said, pouting.

Sunmi crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to make a sandwich.", and she left the room, without looking back or asking you if you wanted some.

After ten minutes, she returned to the room with a plate of that big sandwich and also a soda can. She placed the sandwich plate next to your mouse and opened the can next to your ear, so the noise would be loud for you.

She was standing, leaning her elbow on your chair, staring at the screen just like you. She picked up the sandwich, took a bite and there was mayonnaise on her lower lip.

"There, there, look!", she pointed at the screen at a soldier with an AK47 in hand. "Shoot!"

"No, no, this is Yeri, she is from my squad.", you smiled.

"Hmm..."

"No, I was talking to Sunmi.", your expression changed to full concentration.

Feeling ignored, Sunmi sat on the bed and turned on the television. On purpose, she left the volume almost to the maximum on a sitcom on Prime Video.

Feeling uncomfortable with the sound, you looked quickly at the screen and then at Sunmi. She pretended that she didn't notice your discomfort. Nothing would change until you turned your attention to her, that's how she thought.

A few more minutes passed and Sunmi started to laugh. It wasn't a natural laugh, you could see. It was a forced laugh, an outrageous laugh, which made you look back again for eye contact with Sunmi. Once again she pretended not to notice.

"Just a little while longer and the game will be over and then finally I will be able to give all my attention to her.", you thought.

The notes of a song you knew very well started to echo out of the headset and you tried to hide a smile. Sunmi was looking like a child in need of attention. Oh, how well you knew her! You would join that game with her. But, in the end, none of you would lose.

You turned off the microphone and chatted to your friends, saying you would need to quit the game. They did not object. However, doing it quickly for her not to see, you played a gameplay on youtube and pretended it was you playing it.

When a specific part of the song arrived, Sunmi sang at the top of her lungs:

"When will hug me and kiss me?"

You held back a laugh and simulated a cough. She danced to her own music on the bed, in a sloppy and completely beautiful way.

"Isn't it a little too narcissistic to listen to your own music?", you asked, swiveling your chair in a movement that would make you face Sunmi.

"Isn't it a little too bad to keep your girlfriend waiting?", she threw herself on her back on the bed and one of the pillows fell to the floor.

You got up and picked it up, put it back on the bed and threw yourself next to your girlfriend. She was angry, you knew that.

But you also knew how to put an end to that angriness.

"Go back to your game. I don't want you anymore.", with her cell phone in hands, Sunmi was looking for another song.

"Oh, so you don’t want me anymore?!", you feigned disbelief. "This is cruel!"

You approached your body to hers and she did nothing. But she also didn't try to move away. And she was starting to pout. How could she be so adorable?

"Cruel is to keep your girlfriend waiting.", Sunmi pressed the play angrily and Gashina started playing.

"Look! There is a very good player who uses the name of this great song as user in games..."

"I don't care.", she shrugged.

You chuckled and hid your face on her neck, stretched out your left arm and held Sunmi in a half hug. You kissed her shoulder.

"Forgive me... I'm here! I promise I won't play again now, I'll do whatever you want and I'll give you all the attention in the world."

Sunmi rolled her eyes.

"Funny... your game is still on the screen."

"It's just gameplay... a trap to see how far you would go.", you confessed.

"You are veeery funny.", Sunmi said, without a hint of truth. "You said you're going to give me all the attention in the world and do what I want. Is that true?", she asked, still pouting.

"Super duper ultra true.", you raised your pinky to her.

"Okay then.", she joined her pinky with yours and then you kissed her, pressing her against you.

After a while on that kiss, Sunmi separated your lips.

"How long has that gameplay been running?"

"A few minutes, why?", you slid your lips over hers.

"All this time you could be just giving me attention?!", she was indignant. “I was about to play the bass!”

"Oh, baby, come here.", you pulled her, laughing.

She would not need to ask for your attention. Never. Your eyes would always be focused on her.

Another kiss started and you both smiled. Healthy love games always ended with Sunmi’s lips’ taste and sincere, beautiful smiles. And the two of you ended up winning. There was no better game.

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // read on AO3 // @today-in-fic​

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

CHAPTER 3

Arlington National Cemetery One week later 9:17 am

Leaves rustled in the trees overhead as the honor guard reloaded and repositioned their rifles. The sharp bang, like a hit on a snare drum, echoed through the eerie calm of the cemetery. I could feel it happening again. Everytime I thought I was past this nonsense it kept coming back. I wanted to close my eyes but it would have brought me back to the mud and rain of Wake Island. When you’ve been knee deep in death you never forget it. I could still smell the humid air, the burnt powder, the smoke.

I closed my eyes for a moment and balled my fist tighter as images clear as photographs flashed before me. Three years ago, I donned the dress blues and watched a soldier from my company laid to rest. It felt like I was having a heart attack as I listened to the twenty-one guns and the cries of his grieving widow. Fingers pressed hard creating a thick new line in my palm and my flashback dissolved. 

Each shot up to this point was torture. My salute wavered with the final pop and I felt the elephant on my chest move aside, allowing me to breathe a little. A bead of sweat broke free from under my hatband and took a slow slide down my temple. The back of my neck prickled. I swallowed hard and moved to parade rest as the honor guard queued up and left the gravesite. My fingers slowly loosened their curl and I felt the circulation return to the tips. Once the ringing in my ears stopped I was able to appreciate the sound of silence. 

It was a small group of mourners, mainly fellow Marines from Spender’s company and a few officers from the precinct. He had no wife, no kids, not sure if his mother was still alive. Seems that the only family representative was his father. Jeffrey had the distinction of a military funeral at Arlington due to his rank and heroics at Guadalcanal. At the drop of a hat he would tell the story about surviving hand-to-hand combat and rescuing a senior officer during a nighttime raid. I’m sure each time he retold it, that fish got a little bigger. At any rate, he’s now buried amongst other honorable men. His father was able to cut through any red tape like a hot knife through butter to make it happen. And almost as if on cue I spied the old man in his expensive dark striped suit accepting condolences. I recognized him through the smoke cloud that hung around like a bad party guest. I suppose he could feel my eyes on him because he headed my direction. He gestured to another older gentleman, who I assumed was his driver, and continued his approach. It was the first time I was able to truly observe him. He had all the obvious characteristics of old D.C. politics; dower demeanor, rigid walk, air of superiority.

“Sir, I’m sorry for your loss,” I said flatly as he approached. The scent of Morleys invaded my nose.

“Thank you, mister -?” He asked while offering a perfunctory handshake. 

“Mulder,” I replied as I shook his hand then tugged at my uniform jacket. 

“Ah yes,” he practically hissed, “You were Jeffrey’s partner in the vice unit. Keeping the city safe from crime and debauchery.” The cigarette smoking man took one more drag then let the stick hang on his lower lip. “My son had great potential. To be killed in the line of duty is a tragedy.”

 I didn’t know what type of condolence to offer. I wasn’t great friends with his son in the first place, it was a professional relationship and not much more.

“The precinct lost a good detective,” I finally managed to say. Jesus, that felt bitter on my tongue. I licked my lips, hoping this conversation would soon be over; my pleasantries were skating on thin ice. The Smoking Man stubbed out his cigarette and rattled off something about his resources that could aid in our murder investigation. Apparently he and the commissioner were old chums and justice would be swift. Then he took the cue and left. I stole a deep breath and watched him head towards his driver then enter a large black Cadillac that was parked at the base of the knoll.  

My feet hit the pathway just as I heard my name being called from over my shoulder. I paused and turned to see Captain Skinner walking my direction. 

“Just had a conversation with Spender’s old man.” I said.

“Is that so?” He questioned as he removed his glasses.

“Turns out he has the district police in his pocket so my services might not be needed with this investigation,” I said sarcastically.

“Did he know your connection to the case?”

“He knows I was Spender’s partner, but not that I was at the scene.” 

Skinner squared his jaw then continued to walk past me away from the thinning crowd. I followed.

“I’m awaiting the final report from the coroner. They found something of interest on the autopsy.”

“A different cause of death? Figured the gunshots were obvious,” I said.

“There was additional bloodwork. I’m not certain what the M.E. was looking for, which is why I want the final report.” He stopped and faced me. “Mulder, I don’t typically recommend this course of police action however this is a unique situation.” 

“Sir?”

“I want you to use whatever channels you have available. Legal or -- otherwise. Use the boys in forensics to your advantage. See if you can get that report and keep this ‘eyes only.”

I raised an eyebrow at the request. It’s not everyday your boss asks you to operate in the gray. Then it clicked.

“You want to keep this hush-hush.”

“I want to keep the reputation of this precinct and my vice unit intact,” he replied cryptically. I could only nod and watch as he slowly left for his car. I took an opposite path. There was a humming in my head that I wanted to knock loose with a stroll.

Flanked by rows of white crosses on green hills I continued along the pathway and suddenly saw a familiar flash of red. She was standing at a simple headstone, adjusting a small arrangement of flowers. Out of respect I waited until she stepped away onto the path before I approached.

“Excuse me,” I called from behind with a casual wave of my hand. When she looked over her shoulder I knew it was her.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss,” I began but clammed up when I saw those pools of blue. In that instant, that split second, it’s like I forgot the damn English language. My feet kept moving and I tried to say something.

“It’s no bother,” she said, thankfully.

“Are you by chance a nurse at Washington General?” I finally sputtered as we stopped walking. She nodded then thought for a moment, her arms hugged her petite frame.

“You look familiar,” she said with a delicately pointed finger, “Have we met before?” 

“We have,” I replied. She cautiously moved closer to size me up. She surveyed my uniform and I felt like I was back in the barracks.

“You were the -- detective, right? -- who worked on a last name basis?”

“That’s my calling card. The name’s Mulder,” I said, “Remind me yours?”

“Dana Scully,” she said with a hint of a polite smile.

Scully. There it was. The stray thread was pulled and unraveled the memory of her name, each and every letter. She continued, 

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Almost back to my pitching prime.” I replied as I gave it a roll. I had to watch myself with this one. Memory like a steel trap. Her head tilted curiously to the side. 

“You clean up nice.” There was a quick flush to her cheeks as she took a small step back, wishing that remark stayed to herself. I smiled and now it was my turn to shift gears.

“I saw you laying down some flowers.” I said, curiosity getting my proverbial cat. Her lips pressed together. 

“My father,” she said, “He is - was - a captain in the Navy. It was six years ago; Midway. I like to keep his flowers fresh if I can.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied with the only thing I could muster. Her statement was simple but knocked the wind out of my sails. Scully dipped her head and nodded. She then asked,

“Do you have someone here?”

“I’ve got a couple guys from my company, though I don’t visit too often. But today was my partner.”

“Oh,” she said softly, “It’s a funny state of the world when you can have a conversation about who you lost as easy as asking ‘how’s the weather.’”

For a moment I had nothing to say. A thousand scenarios ran through my head. I wanted to know more, I wanted to know everything about her. There was a natural beauty of course but something about her mind reeled me in. I cleared my throat. This chat was on the verge of getting cozy but seemed out of place in the current setting.

“May I walk you to your car?” 

“Thank you but I’ll be fine. My sister is waiting for me. Besides, we only just met.” A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.” 

Playing coy, I liked that.

“Well then, good day Miss Scully.” 

“Good day Mr. Mulder.” She shook my hand and lingered for a moment. “If you’re ever in Georgetown look me up. Hopefully we can meet again.” 

“I sincerely hope so,” I said. She turned heel and left me on the path. The curve of her pencil skirt, a flutter of the hem, the lines of her smart blouse made the goodbye feel less permanent. I listened to a breeze sweep through the tree line then I backtracked to where I was parked. 

I needed to get out of this uniform.

-------

Hegal Place Alexandria, VA

My apartment felt stale. I forced open a window to let in some fresh air. In the wardrobe hung one clean, pressed dress shirt along with my police dress blues. Of course the only shirt remaining was the one I wore the night Spender was killed. The good thing about an old jaded dry cleaner is you get quality work and little questions. I sipped my coffee and remembered I might have a vacation shirt stashed away in a drawer. As I donned the new shirt I heard the phone ring. I was waiting for a call from the boys in forensics who were a little too eager to give me a hand. 

“Mulder? It’s Frohike.”

“What have you found?”

“As you know, Langley and I were able to fish out a casing from the bathroom stall door, the back wall and a sneaky little devil in the bar. Turns out these paired nicely with the one lodged in Spender’s abdomen.”

“Who’d the weapon belong to?”

“Carlo Lodi.” Frohike asked. I scanned through the mugshot portfolio in my head. There he was. A hulking brute nicknamed The Titan who was quick with a fist and a trigger.

“Yeah. He’s one of Vincenti’s favorite enforcers.”

“We’ve seen his handiwork before,” Frohike continued, “He leaves a real pretty signature, although he’s usually a little more precise. Execution style seems to be his forté.”

“That’s what I thought when I was at the scene. I still don’t know if he intended to take me out as well.”

“Just like you to get in the way, Mulder.” There was a chuckle in the other end of the phone.

“Hey Frohike, has the final report come in from the M.E.?” 

“Ah, funny you should mention that. I have a preliminary copy and it shows that there was heroin in his system.”

“Shit,” I stated after a pause.

“What is it?”

“It means Krycek was right.”

[leahxx129]

Tragedy of Butterflies (Peter Quill x Reader)

Hi there. Quick personal note: it appears that the personal thing I’m struggling with at the moment will go on for around another month, but I have lots of story ideas and will try to write & post some. 

As for the story... I feel like that Chris Pratt is the most underrated Chris from all the MCU Chrises, so I wanted to show a little love for him & one of his more famous character.

Summary: As a result of the Snap, Peter Quill dies in your arms and your heart shatters to pieces since you’ve been secretly in love with him for quite a while now. What happens 5 years later when everyone is brought back to the battle field, including some very unexpected people? 

Warnings: cursing 

Word count: 1.630-ish

You have no idea how much time has passed since the wizards brought everyone to the field and the guy with the shield commenced the battle against Thanos, but you’re pretty sure about one thing - within the next couple of minutes you’re going to suffer an excruciating death.

The creature knocked you over in a blink of an eye, you never even saw it coming, and both of your machetes flew out of reach. You can brush one’s handle with your fingertips but it’s still a far stretch... You desperately try to take in a few punches, but the damn thing is clawing at you with a foaming mouth, wanting to tear your throat out like a freaking otherworldly Cujo, so the majority of your energy is invested in self-defense. Even through the beast’s grumble you can hear the battle screams and death rattle of warriors trying their best to defeat the other army and fail at it.

Your arms are getting numb and a strange mixture of calmness and serenity dazes your mind. Maybe death wouldn’t be the worst-case scenario. You’re tired and you’ve certainly done your fair share over the years… Then his face flashes before your eyes and you relinquish every single thought of surrender in an instant.

He always demanded everyone to call him Star-Lord, but to friends he was Quill and to you, only Peter. You can’t just go down like this, you owe putting up a real fight to him. That’s the least you could do since you were unable to save him the first time you all faced Thanos…

You’ve known Peter since you were a little girl. You happened to be in the hospital when his mom died and followed him outside just to accidentally be snatched by Yondu as well...

He was nothing but a silly boy to you for a very long time – he would pull your hair, try to frighten you by telling ghost stories or play mean pranks on you... Then one day you suddenly realized he became so much more, and the mere fact that you had no clue how it happened scared the crap out of you.

Naturally, this escaped his notice, so every time he obtained a new notch in his belt, you died a little inside and swore an oath that you’d never be one of his conquests. An oath you broke not long after having sworn it... You fell so miserably in love with the man that you let yourself turn into his occasional bed warmer because even a relationship like that was more than nothing. At least that’s what you made yourself believe to help you sleep at night...

His lips felt incredibly soft as he peppered your neck with featherlight kisses in the dark.

His fingertips almost made you catch on fire when they traced your skin under the covers.

And the way he whispered sweet nothings into your ears when nobody else was around brought you to the verge of losing your goddamn mind every single time.

You found him completely and utterly intoxicating. Peter was addictive like a drug. And you lived for the high.

For a short period of time it looked like as if he was beginning to return your feelings, but then Gamora showed up and shattered every illusion to a thousand pieces. You couldn’t blame her - it’s not like she demanded Peter to shower her with his attention. But you couldn’t blame Peter, either, because Gamora was close to perfection… so, all you did was blaming yourself and pretending to be happy for the slyest thief in the galaxy day after day.

Truth be told, every night when you closed your eyes you imagined how it would feel like if the Zehoberei woman just simply got out of the picture, but with God as your witness, you never wished for her departure to be this way. When Thanos revealed on the Titan that he’d murdered her, the confession broke Peter and seeing him like that broke you.

Then came the Snap.

Peter pulverized in your arms and you would have given everything in the entire galaxy to trade your life for his. Later on, you joined Rocket and you’ve been by his side ever since as he appeared to be the only one to share your grief and understand your pain, but more importantly, he was the only other remaining member of the guardians and being close to him reminded you of better times.

Your fingers inch a bit closer to the machete’s handle but when you try to flick it in your direction the only thing you manage to do is just push it farther away.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you yell as a generous amount of the monster’s saliva lands on your neck a second later. “Could this situation get any worse?”

The answer comes right away when the thing overpowers you and you feel a set of razor-sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. The scream ripping from your lungs makes your own blood run cold. You close your eyes and await the next – and probably the last - lash out but it never comes. Instead, you hear a gun shot and the beast collapses onto you. Realizing that you’re still alive and kicking, you push it off and freeze at the sight of your savior. He’s standing far away, face not visible, but you could recognize that stance anywhere.

“Peter?!” you scream his name and hope he heard it through all the turmoil.

The stranger touches the side of his mask to reveal the face you haven’t seen in the past five years but dreamt of every single night.

Not minding the shoulder wound you jump to your feet and start limping towards him, picking up the pace when you see him do the same. Within a couple of seconds, the distance is closed, and you fall into his arms, tears streaming down your face. The familiar minty scent invades your nostrils and you can feel his stubble tickle your face. It’s him. It’s really him. You hug him even tighter.

“Peter…” you lean away a few inches to be able to look into his eyes but before you can say anything, he crashes his lips onto yours, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You kiss him back, nevertheless.

“What was that for?” you ask after breaking apart, shielding your genuine curiosity with a small smile.

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips, panting heavily.

Your eyes widen.

“Okay, I must have a little monster saliva clogging my ears because what I heard was that you love me and that cannot be the real reason.”

He lets out a chuckle.

“I don’t know about the saliva sweetheart, but you heard me right.”

You eye him suspiciously.

“I don’t get it.”

His signature lopsided smile appears on his face, but his gaze radiates sadness. You remind him of what his mom used to tell him about the tragedy of butterflies. Their wings are exquisitely beautiful and yet they can’t see them, just as you can’t see your own beauty and worth.

“I’ve loved you for quite a while now, Y/N.” he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “When we became friends…uhm… with benefits… I-I thought it was better than nothing, so I went along. But deep inside I knew it was not enough for me. And I couldn’t imagine a galaxy where someone like you would seriously be interested in someone like me. So, when Gamora showed up I decided to move on and try to develop a healthy relationship with somebody else… so much for that, huh?”

“Oh, Peter…” you begin but he hushes you.

“Ssshh, okay, just let me finish please.” He takes a deep breath, obviously struggling to hold back tears. “I cared for her. I really did. But when I woke up in that strange place, do you know who’s name I was screaming for hours? Yours. I loved her but I’m in love with you. Promise you’ll never leave me, please.”

You open your mouth to respond but a series of gunshots rip through the air missing your head just by inches and one of Thanos’ mutant soldiers collapses behind your back.

“I’m really glad you two idiots have finally figured your shit out but we’re on a battlefield right now and I can’t keep on saving your asses while you’re having a heart-to-heart!”

Nebula’s familiar voice provides an explanation for the shots but when you both turn to her direction, she’s not alone. You can feel a knot form in your stomach.

“Gamora?” Peter asks incredulously.

“Who’s this guy?” the person in question turns to Nebula with a clueless facial expression.

“He was hitting on you in an attempt to forget how desperately in love he was with the girl he’s holding right now.”

Gamora’s eyebrows fly up.

“Wow… and the me in this dimension didn’t see through the situation? No wonder she’s dead.”

“This dimension? What’s going on? Is she from a different one?” you find your voice and address the question to Nebula.

“We don’t have time for this. I’ll tell everything after this is over... you know, on the off chance we survive...” She flashes a mechanic smile and disappears with her sister.

Peter is still staring at the place where they stood just seconds ago. You gently put your palm on the side of his face and make him look you in the eyes.

“I promise!” you vow and kiss him hungrily.

There are two things you’re hoping for at the moment - you want to survive this battle more than anything so you could be with Peter and you also pray that Gamora’s return won’t affect a single thing.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Zerfall - 9/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, crime, canon typical violence, flirting, angst. Not beta read. **Image credit goes to Ubisoft.

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

The day after your little movie night was spent with taking down bases in the Central Park Zoo and the Bethesda Fountain. Being on equal ground with the enemies was making it a little bit harder but the civilians actually were pretty good at that after patrolling for weeks now. Some of the animals were roaming free in the zoo, some were still happily in their areas and some starved to death. The moment you personally lost it was when you found a wild cat that was shot to death. “God, what does an almost extinct animal have to do with fucking humanity going down the drain. Bastards!” You growled before sitting down in front of it, petting the poor soul. “Eda? Can you send Helen a message asking what to do with this one? Burying or freezing for DNA?” You mumbled into the watch. “And find out its name.” Bucky said behind you before squatting next to you, watching your sad expression at the poor animal. “Her name was Sophia.” Came back after a short search of the device. “Hope you took some of them with you into the death, Sophia,” you said feeling the soft fur. “Dr. Cho answered with burying.” Eda answered to the earlier question. “Need my help moving the poor thing?” Captain Davis called out moving towards you two. “Yeah.” you mumbled. “‘cmere. Gonna give her a nice goodbye.” Bucky told you softly while helping you up again. Fueled by the hate of this incident you walked to the second base, taking it down and coming back to spend the rest of the day burying animals and decontaminating areas of the zoo.

With more than 5 places in the hands of the civilians, the liberation phase was finished. The civilian militia started planning their own missions without you and started taking over the Upper East Side themselves, followed by Yorkville. They were so fueled by the many wins since you showed up. The settlement even got a food update. They could finally grow their own food on the roofs of the surrounding areas. Their next goal was to get electricity going from the tower to the settlement and they were working day and night to secure Park Avenue. That night you come to the tower earlier than usual. The plan for the next day was to push forward through East Harlem to get to Randalls Island as you had planned with the others. You spend the evening playing Uno and Scrabble. The amount of common 40s words you learned from him that evening was insane. Some of them sounded so dumb that you didn’t believe him until he explained you scenarios to use them in. “C’mon, that’s just- That sounds ridiculous. How did nobody laugh at that?” You giggled. “Well, those were different times, darling.” He grinned at you over the table. “They surely were. Tony would love that word.” You shook your head. What you didn’t expect after falling asleep on the couch with him next to you was the mission to go wrong. Not completely south, but south enough for you to get hurt. You were about to jump to another cover with him right behind you when you were shot right into the outside of your thigh. Bullet going through. “Shit.” You groaned dragging yourself the rest of the way to the cover. “Stay right there, Ann.” You heard behind you before you saw his shadow get bigger and bullets hitting his arm. You turned yourself around to see him shoot with a frown and determination in his face. With your full trust into him you got off your backpack, got out antiseptic and a bandage. While you were pouring the fluid over the wound with a sharp inhale and a bite into the glove in your mouth, he squatted down next to you. “How bad is it?” He asked laying his metal hand onto your lower leg. “Hurts like a motherfucker.” You groaned. “Let me help you.” He held out his hand for the bandage and you looked at him surprised. “C’mon. Gimme the bandage,” He said in a soft voice and you obeyed. “Glad it wasn’t the big artery,” you said pained while he pressed the bandage around your thigh. In the back, you could hear the civilians cheering, looting and setting up their stations. “You had me worried there for a second, Meda,” he said with a little frown at the work of his hands. “I’m fine, James.” You smiled before inhaling deeply at the pressure again. “Well, you’re half fine. I’ll carry you back to the tower.” He smirked at your inability to admit that you were worse than you actually were. After putting your pants over the thigh again and packing your backpack, you were helped up by him. With ease he picked you up, putting you around his neck like you are a pillow. “That’s not medical best practice.” You giggled. “Well, medical best practice would be an ambulance, but here we are,” he japed back. “Please don’t make ambulance sounds,” you said, sensing what he was about to ask. “Too bad,” he said squeezing your healthy leg. “Doctor Cho. What the hell do I do with this gunshot wound?” You asked, recording the leg with EADA. “Get into my laboratory, the med-tech one,” she ordered you and Bucky immediately picked you up to bring you a few floors downstairs. He laid you down on the metal table and followed the instructions Helen gave over the hologram call. “Type the green button on the machine. And type it again when it beeps twice after scanning her body,” she told him and he did as he was told with an interested expression. “Is that the fake tissue thing you created a while back?” You asked. “Yeah. I have better ways developed but this is all you have and that should be enough. You’ll need to rest 2-4 days though,” she added. You grumbled, “Fine.” Bucky sent you a chuckle and a shit-eating grin, “Can’t stand still.”

You walked into the kitchen the next day, leg sore from rebuilding muscle and skin still a little irritated after the procedure. “Are you wearing my clothes?” Bucky asked with his brow raised after watching you enter the room. “C’mon. It’s comfy. I feel bad, give a girl a break.” You whined. “No no no, it’s fine. You look cute in ‘em.” He grinned before biting into his second breakfast bar that morning. “Do I really?” You held out your arms and looked down on you. The black hoodie was way too big for you and you had sweater paws. His sweatpants were more comfortable with the freshly healed thigh. “You look like the small person you are.” He chuckled. “Hey.” You looked at him pouting. “I won’t take that back, you’re small.” “Compared to YOU.” You crossed your arms. With a head shake he stood up and walked over to you for a bear hug, “You feelin’ better?” “Yeah, thanks for all the help, partner.” You looked up at him, he really was quite a bit taller than you. “Of course, always.” “Maybe not ALWAYS.” You frowned and he mirrored the expression in concern. “Why? What do you mean?” He asked. “Maybe don’t shield me from explosions or stuff like that. I don’t need the survivors guilt more than I already have it.” Your frown deepened. “What happened?” He immediately asked, cursing himself for not being as calming as he wanted to sound. “My old partner from before all of this and all of the SAID extra training and being with the Avengers. We were on a mission involving A.I.M. and…” You stopped yourself. “Go on, it’s okay.” His hand went over your back soothingly. “...well, if you’re aware of what the Centipede program was, you know that people injected with that stuff explode after not being stabilized for a while. One of them did and my partner shielded me. I was the only person to come out alive, my partner burned to death because he saved my life.” His right hand got rid of your tears that had started spilling, “You won’t keep me from protecting you but I can keep you away from exploding humans and objects as best as possible,” A soft smile was right in front of you. “Mhm.” You nodded your head slightly before being pulled into an even closer hug. “Good.” His face landed in your hair and he closed his eyes while swaying you a little.

The rest of the day was spent in the tower, eating some of the candy that was still left in perfect shape and watching a good show. The three other rest days were days you spent mostly alone while Bucky went out and helped the civilians to reinforce Park Avenue and went on a few smaller missions with Captain Davis. It was almost domestic how you cooked every evening when he was coming back to the tower and the way you both fell asleep on the big couch instead of the two bedrooms you occupied. There was a familiarity that you both couldn’t describe. Doing all of this made you feel like family. You were each other’s ride or die.

[razorblade180]

Shackles pt4: A Rocky Start

“So let’s get started shall we?” A click of a button illuminates a completely white room devoid of windows. The gaurd reaches for Jasmine’s wrist and she promptly yanks a way and walks to the only chair in the middle of a room. She knew the drill already. Jasmine was at least gonna do it at her own pace.

The child sat down and placed both arms on the arm rest in between the thick leather straps. Her mind was racing; the nerves in her body already feeling like fire and making the chair creak with her slight trembling. “Let’s just get this over with already.” The soldier scoffs and tightens the straps before leaving the room. It wasn’t long before the door opens again with Sobek himself coming through it with a utility cart that has an array of tools. Each one unnerving her more. Regular needles, injections, a metal bar, wire, and worst of all, the shears. Jasmine can’t keep her eyes off them.

Sobek:So you’re causing trouble little one? I had I feeling I’d see you in this room again. You’re pretty feisty for a girl your age; certainly more grit than your brother it seems. Not to mention your parents.....you have your father’s charisma.

Jasmine:And then you tried to beat it out of him....

Sobek:Correction, I tried to carve it out of him. Unfortunately the man was beyond salvation much like your mother. *grabs injections*

The man methodically stares at the tip of it as he stands in front of her. Jasmine jumps slightly the moment Sobek’s hand grabs her arm.

Sobek:Don’t be scared, I’m not going to be as crude with you. Children....don’t survive that kind of strain.

The need goes into her arm easily. Jasmine stares at the mysterious clear liquid gets injected into her right arm. In mere seconds she started feeling strange. The room started getting even brighter to the point it was straining to keep both eyes completely open. A rapid pounded in her ears and Sobek’s calm grip felt more like a vice. Even the air itself stung each time she took a shallow breath. The man before her watched the drug kick in then snapped his fingers. The sound made her yelp in pain like a gunshot had went off right next to her. “Several hours of pure sensory overload should change your tune nicely.” He spoke in a hushed tone for her sake. It was last bit of mercy she would be given.

Sobek left the room but left the tools. His way or keeping her alert and making the girls own heartbeat a weapon against her. He walked into room that was right before her where the wall that would be her back wall was in fact a one way mirror. Connected to it was a panel with a variety of switches and knobs. He reached for one that was labeled temperature and dialed it down to forty degrees Fahrenheit then reached for another that increased volume. The only sound was feedback steadily rising. Waiting for just the level until.... “Aaaaaaaaaaaa~” he turned it back down on notch and could see Jasmine heaving; cold air visible with each exhale.

“Poor child. I’ll cure you in no time.”

xxxx

Yang:Are you sure this is the right way?

Blake:I don’t travel in the desert Yang. This is just as much of a leap of faith for me as it is for you.

Jacquelyn:Gee I’m glad I can feel the trust in this group.

The three had been walking through the desert for at least half an hour now. It was the dead of night, cold, and the moon was the only witness to anything out here. Yang was not a happy camper about any of that. She might’ve been aggressive to Jacquelyn earlier today but it was from a mix of shock and other things that were going on. Fighting a maiden was absolutely in every worse case scenario she came up with. Yang had sparred with her mother and helped Ruby push back Cinder in battle, however that only told her how different maidens all are from one another. Case in point, the floor right below them.

Right now the three women were walking in a straight line about a foot away from each other. Jacquelyn was of course in the front. Not simply because she’s the one with direction, but because she’s keeping them out of danger. Her powers allow her to change the sand below their feet into rock temporarily; a trick like that had to come with tons of practice. It stayed long enough in that state for Yang to tail her. Followed by Blake and the sand returned to normal.

Yang:Can’t you make this strip of solid land wider? You aren’t exactly lacking in resources.

Jacquelyn:The point is to disturb the ground as little as possible. White Fang and Nightstalkers burrow underground and sense vibrations in shifting sands so they can set sinkholes in appropriate spots. If I change the terrain too much then I’m bound to attract something.

Yang:White Fang....? You can’t be talking about the group right?

Blake:The group got its name from a grimm indigenous to menagerie. They’re build is almost like an dingo and they walk on all fours constantly unlike beowulves. Their face is a strange mix of feline and canine structure. Digging is sort of their thing and you might’ve guessed but their canines are white as bone; incredibly long too.

Jacquelyn:Being bitten by them with or without aura is a real pain. Let’s not deal with that shall we?

Yang:Why would your dad name an organization after a grimm?

Blake:One White Fang is ferocious and will do just about anything to get by.

Jacquelyn:A pack becomes organized and follows the alpha. In numbers they can shape the land around them and will try and stand against just about anything that stops them. That unity is the reason right?

Blake:Adam tell you that?

Jacquelyn:Who else? You gonna tell me that was a lie?

Blake:N...no....

Yang:......So Nightstalkers?

Jacquelyn:They’re basically Deathstalkers but prefer to trap their enemies instead of coming above ground. They do not waste time. The moment you fall into a trap they will try and sting you to stun you, then immediately eat you.

Yang:Yet these are the ones without “death” in their name.

Jacquelyn:I don’t name them. I just try to avoid them. I almost got eaten once but luckily I wasn’t alone.

Yang:I’m pretty sure magic helped.

Jacquelyn:That too...

Yang:Speaking of which, I can’t imagine this stone stepping trick is easy. Must have taken a lot of practice to get it right.

Blake:Yang....

Jacquelyn:It’s fine Blake. I know she’s gauging my strength; I can feel your eyes on me the entire time. It must be a bit unnerving for you to not to be the toughest person around right now isn’t it? Adam had a similar problem.

Yang:Never compare us.

That was a nerve hit Jacquelyn expected. The way Yang said that was enough to tell just how serious she was about it. A blast of warm air against her back was also a sign that the blonde was quite literally heated. It didn’t help that Yang probably could tell that she said that last part on purpose.

Jacquelyn:I was simply making conversation. Are you always like this? You must save hundreds on heating; I know I do. My maiden powers were given to me from a very young age. So yes, I’ve had plenty of time to learn “tricks” like controlling sediments.

Blake:Given?

Jacquelyn:From my mother. She lost her life when I was seven. Been more or less on my ever since. Well I guess that’s not true. James and even Ozpin made sure I lived well; it was in their best interest after all. They taught-

Blake:Wait. Your mom was all you had?

Yang:No town? No dad or anything. A grimm simply killed your maiden powered mom and left you defenseless.

Jacquelyn:Sigh...I said she lost her life; never mentioned any grimm. As for my dad and the village I grew up in, well, they’re the reason my mom lost her life in the first place.

This new information made the partners stop on their tracks. Yang looks at Blake who is just as surprised as she is. They look forward to see Jacquelyn staring at both of them. Her face was calm and more befuddled by the reason stopped.

Jacquelyn:Uhhh we’re sort on a time crunch and I can see my house from here. What’s with the stopping?

Yang:You just told us something heavy. Like really heavy.

Blake:Your dad and own people killed your mom?

Jacquelyn:Don’t forget smashed my hands and tried killing me as well hehe.....*frowns* people fear power, especially power they don’t understand. I don’t let it weigh me down anymore so no need for it to start weighing you both down. Let’s get a move on alright?

Blake:O...okay. I just don’t believe I could handle something like that if I was in your shoes; even with time that’s-

Yang:Extreme. Traumatic doesn’t even begin to describe it. People change after that. Not necessarily for the best, but to survive.

Jacquelyn:You’re not entirely wrong. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m the best version of myself or probably even the most sane.

Yang:That’s not what I want to hear. *scowls*

Jacquelyn:Would you have preferred a lie? I know how you and Blake feel about that sort of thing. You know, people pretending to be what they aren’t? Listen I get why you’re doing psychoanalysis on me, trying to figure me out, and you’ve made it very clear from the start that everything about this situation upsets you. I can understand that; respect it even. However, you’re being really annoying and pissing me off so either ask direct question or shut up.

Yang:Oh you have another thing coming if you think you can talk to me like that.

Jacquelyn:What are you gonna do about it? Did you learn enough about me to think you handle me.

Blake:Guys.....

Yang:I know I can handle you. I just wanted to know how much effort I was gonna need.

Blake:Guys yo-

Jacquelyn:That’s big talk from someone who needed help from her partner and bike to take down Adam. I beat him first try you know? Complete child’s play and I did it over and over again. I bet you figured that at though. After all... you don’t see any metal parts on me right?

Yang:Oh I am gonna-

Blake:GUYS! THE SAND!

Jacquelyn and Yang stop arguing and look around them. Moving mounds circle around them. Their speed makes it hard to count but it’s clear there’s a massive pack around them. Yang starts rolling her shoulders and puts her fist up. “So much for avoiding conflict.”

“Yeah well getting angry in the middle of nowhere might as well be a dinner bell.” Blake said with annoyance as she cocked her gun. “What were you two thinking?”

Yang bites her lips. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. What’s the best way to deal with White Fang?”

“Ugh, against these numbers, we don’t.” Jacquelyn raises her right foot and then slams it against the sand. Her eyes glow and the ground below all three turns to rock and raises into air ten feet; creating a pillar of rock. Blake and Yang watch Jacquelyn take a knee I’m exhaustion. ‘Damn...I’m more drained than I thought.’ Her body trembling slightly. “We’re going to have to wait.”

Yang:Wait!? We can’t just-

Jacquelyn:There’s at least thirty down there and trust me, you do not want to fight these things right now.

Blake:She’s right. I can definitely hear more of them around. Who knows how many sink wholes are around. Nice going you two; we were almost there.

Yang:I...Jacquelyn, can’t you float or move this hunk of rock to your house? I can see the oasis. That’s the place right?

Jacquelyn:I am tired and moving the entire rock causes vibrations. No way you slice it, we are stuck until they leave.

Yang:....*sits down* Shit.... how long is that gonna take?

Jacquelyn:Few hours maybe? I don’t know when grimm give up.

Yang:*lays down* Juuuussssst great.

Blake:Hopefully before the Sun comes out. I hope no one notices we’re gone too long.

She layed down on her back and stared at the shattered moon. Thoughts lingered aimlessly one after another; so many things were on her mind to keep up with. So many things that she wanted to say about the situation but didn’t. Instead she laid there quietly. ‘Sun, what would you do if you were here? Probably find a way to make those two get along no doubt. Hopefully whatever you’re doing is a walk in the park.’

xxxx

Ilia:Sun this is crazy.

Neptune:You can’t be serious. This is a life or death decision.

Ilia:If you screw up then that’s it. Your life is over. Just another man who lost it all in the streets of Vacou.

Sun:*sweating* Guys relax, I got this.

The trip goes silent as well does the audience around them. Many on lookers watch the monkey faunus stare at three upside cups in front of a well known peddler and part time scam artist. It all comes down this, one cup holds the boy’s future while the others hold despair. Slowly he reaches for the cup in the middle.

Peddler:Are you sure about that one?

Sun:I’m as sure as the rising tides and the fish that travel along them.

He lifts the cup triumphantly to find....nothing. The crowd groans in mass disappointment and dispersed in seconds. Neptune dropped to the ground in defeat. While Ilia face palmed. “Hahahaha! Better luck next time kid” the peddler laughed heavily and proceeded to gather his things and walk off with lien in his pocket and a new pair of goggles.

Neptune:Un....believable.

Sun:I know right? I was so sure it was the middle one.

Neptune:You just lost my money and goggles!

Sun:For the chance to get anything for free he had. That dude always has the best gems. You know we always gotta pay the minimum fee for those sort of deals.

Neptune:So why didn’t you borrow any money from Ilia!!!!?

Ilia:Because you’re his best friend. Plus I couldn’t have an invested interest in the wager. That means I’d have to watch the whole time instead of stealing from him.

Neptune:Still you-....you what?

The girl smiled and put her hands together before rubbing the right one over left and revealing a black diamond ring. “Sun taught me some things. A fitting jewel for your future bride to be huh?”

Sun:That’s if she says yes. *takes the ring* You are right though. I can’t wait to show Blake!

Neptune:Hopefully she doesn’t ask a receipt.

Ilia:Pffft just don’t mention one. Let’s go back to the hotel before-

“My Diamond!”

Neptune:Scatter?

Sun and Ilia:Scatter.....

All three make a dash in different direction through the busy crowd with laughter in their voice. Well, two of them at least were laughing. Ilia watched her idiotic enemy turned best friend climb up on buildings and start booking it like there was no tomorrow. ‘Yeah like that isn’t obvious.’ She took a different approach; maneuvering through people almost like a snake so any pesky peddlers couldn’t get a fixed location on her. The moment she had the opportunity to duck into an alleyway she did so with a gleeful hop; satisfied her years of espionage had not gone to waste or gotten rusty. “Child’s play...”

“Having fun, you little thief?” Said an unfamiliar voice behind her that made her jump. ‘Okay, maybe not child’s play.’ Ilia put up her hands and slowly turned around. “Listen if a peddler that rigs games by secretly hiding things in his sleeves was-” her train of thought was cut off by what stood in front of her. Ilia has expected an angry peddler or some sort cop. Not several armed men wearing cloaks and gripping guns. Each one giving her a look as if she was cornered prey. “Asking.....for....it.”

Captor:Well look at we stumbled across here men. Ilia Amitola, another sick beast in need of curing. The doctor will be pleased.

Part 3

[twdmusicboxmystery]

More Evidence That Beth = New Dawn and Rick = Capt. Hansen

Okay, this is something I’ve been thinking about for about a week now. Before S7, I did THIS THEORY about how useless it was that they gave us Dawn and Capt. Hansen's back story while at Grady. It was useless and really kind of a waste of screen time...that is, unless Beth is alive. She was the only one who heard and could have learned anything from that back story. There were scenes when Dawn talked to Beth about things and nobody else was in the room. Dawn died, so obviously having that back story isn’t about Dawn growing from it. And certainly no one else in TF heard it or can benefit from it in any way. So, if Beth is really dead, that was a complete waste of air time.

Of course, I don't think that's the case. As I said in THIS POST, I think it was a foreshadow for what would happen with Beth. Dawn talked about Capt. Hansen being her mentor and how he started to crack, and she was forced (she thought) to kill him and take his place.

I’ve always thought that that would play out in some way with Beth and Rick. Rick because he was the first sheriff and Beth’s mentor and she is supposed to be the new sheriff in town, which makes her his protégé. The difference is that I don’t think Beth will kill Rick. She’s a better person than Dawn and that simply wouldn’t be her solution, no matter what Rick did. I think the scenario will be more like her stepping in as a leader if for some reason, Rick can’t lead for a time.

Now, over the seasons I've theorized many ways in which this could come to pass. For example I thought perhaps when Negan showed up and we saw Rick cracking under the strain of what happened to Glenn and Abraham, perhaps she would show up then to take over. Obviously not. I've had several theories about how this would play out. And, as we haven't seen Beth yet, none of them have proved correct.

So, last week @wdway was hashing out some of her awesome theories in our group. She started to talk about the Empress tarot character (I reblogged the post about this yesterday). Basically, she's one of the tarot card characters and most of the symbols around her are things we’ve seen around Beth. So we've theorized more than once that they use the Empress as a template for Beth’s arc and her character.

For some reason, that got me thinking about the story around Beth and Rick and what it might mean moving forward. So I’m gonna throw some pretty wacky theories out for you guys to consider. So, let’s call this a predictions post.

If you need any more evidence of Beth = Tarot Empress, check out THIS DESCRIPTION, specifically the parts under “description” and “history.” Also, check out this picture. 

The emblem on the shield is an eagle. The positioning of the bird looks like a Phoenix and a lot like the one we saw in the moonshine shack in Still.

So, the first thing the first epiphany I had has to do with the 12 stars on the Empress’ throne above. We've definitely seen a number 12 quite a bit. I’ll talk about this more in subsequent posts, especially in regards to the opening credits, but right now there is a walker in the opening credits that appears to have a 6 in his eye with two lines to it. We think it represents a double 6. In other words, 12. Then there’s episode 6x06, which was a huge Beth-symbolism episode (again 6+6=12). There are lots of other examples two but I’m not going to go into all of them.

So I suppose the major worry here is that may be waiting until S12 to bring Beth back. Don’t worry. I don’t think that will be the case. I have another idea of what the twelve could be referencing.

It occurred to me that Gimple has said many times that he has planned through season 15 of TWD. Gimple took over at the end of S3/beginning of S4. So, if you start at S4 (because he wasn’t show runner in the first three seasons) 12 seasons out from that would be season 15. So, I'm thinking 12 seasons represents the entire arc Gimple planned when he took over in 3x16. The Empress’s arc reigns over those 12 seasons.  

That should give everyone hope because in 3x16, which is an episode he rewrote, he put all kinds of resurrection symbols into it, including a very obvious scripture about resurrection. 

I think it’s meant to show that the arc he planned for the next 12 seasons would be full of resurrections. That goes well with what we know Beth and her arc, as well as everything else we’ve seen in intervening seasons.

Again, I don't think until S12 to bring Beth back. We know a coda is the final passage of a piece of music and represents something different than the stuff heard earlier in the piece. Bringing her back in season 10 is still late enough in the 12 season musical piece to count as a coda, imho.

This got me thinking about other things too. I’ve said a few times that the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that Beth and Rick will end up in the same place, possibly at Grady.

We’ve had a lot of evidence for that (Rick’s hallucination, the helicopter, etc.) So in conjunction with the Dawn/Capt. Hansen stuff, I think that might back this idea up. Dawn and Capt. Hansen’s story being a template for Rick and Beth would make a lot of sense if Rick ends up at Grady. Suddenly, Beth would be there with her mentor. If she somehow trained directly under Rick to be a leader for a while, it would definitely make her the new sheriff in town.

You could even argue that's why they had Rick place the sheriff’s hat on Beth’s head in 4x16. The symbolism there is Rick sort of anointing her his new sheriff, especially now that Carl is gone.

Dawn flat out says that Beth reminds her of herself and she was young. That pretty much proves that Beth will become the new Dawn at Grady (New Dawn Theme). She’ll return as a leader and of course become new sheriff in town.

@wdway also pointed out that back in 4x02 (again, right Gimple officially took over and the 12 season arc began) we saw a “new dawn” picture on the wall during the council meeting behind Daryl and Carol. 

Kind of interesting because all the other members of that council—Glenn, Sasha, Hershel—are all dead now. So that might have been a purposeful foreshadow that the New Dawn (Beth) wouldn’t arrive until only Carol and Daryl were left.

We also saw this theme printed on two different books. One with Bob in the veterinary college, which incidentally looked exactly like Grady and was an obvious foreshadow of it. 

The second one was this season on a book Daryl had in his camp when Carol went to get him (can’t seem to find my pic of it, but I’ll take an other one to post later). That happened in the episode entitled Stradivarius. In other words, the musical episode.

Coincidence?

We’ve also discussed that perhaps Beth will show up at some point, without Rick, and tell Michonne where he is. That could still work with this scenario. I was thinking that her leaving Rick behind (turn of the tables, anyone?) might constitute a betrayal of Rick on her part, which could account for the analogy to Dawn killing her mentor. Really just throwing out ideas here.

Of course the show often uses anti-parallels. So maybe Beth doesn’t need to betray Rick at all. It will be more of an anti-parallel in that aspect. And that brings me to Trevitt. (Remember, he’s the guy that was brought into Grady with internal injuries and died when Edwards had Beth give him the wrong medicine.)

I’ve always thought we should read something more into Trevitt’s role in Beth’s story, but it’s hard to say what. This may not work out across the board, but Trevitt was brought into Grady badly injured.  I was thinking that the last we saw of Rick, when he left on the helicopter, he was pretty badly injured. Wouldn’t it be interesting if he was taken to Grady and brought in as an injured patient, just as Trevitt (and later Carol) were? The anti-parallel there would that Rick doesn’t die, as Trevitt did. 

Also, consider that Trevitt fell out of a window to the ground and Rick was blown off a bridge. Those injuries do have certain parallels, such as flying through the air. It's not like either of them was dealing with a walker bite, or gunshot wound.

I also considered the fact that Trevitt was a doctor at St. Ignatius. It’s still hard to make heads or tails of the St. Ignatius reference, but Ignatius did start the society of the Jesuits, a Christian organization that became a huge force for good at the time. Maybe it points to them starting a new group or a new community?

We’ve talked about the possibility of Beth showing up in FTWD or in other places. Just keep in mind that this doesn't negate any of that. It's been six years now since Rick disappeared. If he went straight to Grady, it's obvious that neither of them make it back very quickly. They have a long journey ahead of them and a lot of the other things we've seen could still be true of how she returns. It will all fit together at some point, we just don't know how yet.

All these things point to the New Dawn/Beth/The Empress arriving very soon. And again, I have no idea if it will pan out in any of the ways I’ve mentioned here. These are just some things I’ve been thinking about. Most of them are loose ends that still need to be tied up, in terms of the symbolism.Thoughts?

[zefyre]

Garrus/Kag?

a+, 11/10, 👌👌👌✔✔✔✔✔ would write if iknew how to spin it, will cry if somehow by some miracle i ever see any contentfor it, like p l s? god?? y'all, garrus is apparently fucking s e v e n??? feettall??? you guys should know by now i’m so fucking weak for height differences,they’d be so freaking cute together?? that i wouldhonestly die of happiness

god pls i’m just imagining some scenariowhere he has to carry her out of a fire fight or smth bc she’s injured! hewould dwarf her, cradle her close and careful to his chest bc yea she’s abadass but she’s also tiny and human and in his head smol + human + hurt = vstrong need to protect his girl

and now i’m getting ideas lmao look what u did nonny!

(warning: a long spiel of unasked rambling under the cut)

((also also it’s been a while since i lastplayed mass effect and i’ve got the memory of a goldfish so apologies for anymistakes or ooc-ness lmao))

hmm but then how would they meet/knoweach other?? old c-sec partner? kagome comes onto the normandy to like, assistdr. chakwas??? oh! or maybe she meets him during his time as archangel, was apart of his team there but had managed to survive? and when shepard finds themboth holed up at his base and garrus inevitably takes that blast, she helpskeeps him stable and refuses to leave his side?

mhmm, since i can’t really see her abilitieshaving a place in like space? lolol maybe she’d have biotics instead? good witha pistol, deadly with a sniper, and maybe a bit of training in field medicinefor both humans and aliens??? which was maybe why garrus recruited her in thefirst place (and knowing him, he could never turn down a good shot, esp. afellow sniper, and she was a damngood one so the choice was obvious)

like garrus maybe meets her to ask her somequestions – she’s been on omega for a while now, made a bit of a name forherself as someone who’s willing to give a lending hand. she’s not really adoctor per say, but the thing is she knows her stuff. she’s got connections.and what’s better is that she’s nice, she’s unaffiliated, and more importantly,doesn’t ask any questions.

((kagome doesn’t involve herself with any ofthe mercenary outfits, however much she dislikes them, but rumor has it she’sunder aria’s protection which is why no one messes with her. kagome’s justreally good at making friends with the strangest variety of people and bc of that she’s left alone.))

but yea, what started as patching up a coupleof teens here and there that got into scrapes or roughed up from a job or whathave you turned to her apartment becoming a sort of safe haven if you needhelp. if kagome couldn’t help, she’d be sure to know someone who could and sendthem there. garrus picks up her name one day pretty early on in his days on omega,figures with people from all the merc groups coming through her door she’d hearsome things and finds her to get some intel. except kagome isn’t a snitch, pplwouldn’t consider her safe to approach if she was, so of course when he triesto press her for info she only smiles at garrus, hands him some medigeland bandages for the gunshot wound he was trying to conceal (and would swear?? hehadn’t let on about??), and some rations bc helooked like he could use it.

“you seem like a goodguy,” kagome says as garrus finally goes to leave. “smart, too.”

he pauses, halfwayout the door, and turns to look at her over his shoulder. she was stillsmiling, though it was softer now, more genuine. he doesn’t say anything inreply, but he tips his head to the side, listening, mandibles twitching as hewaits.

“you’re not the firstone to get it in their head to take on the mercs.” she looks at him closely.“you know it’s a suicide mission.”

garrus tenses, headdropping low for barely a moment before he straightens and pins her with a hardstare. “you’re telling me to drop it?” the very idea makes him bristle.

the small human womanactually snorts. “i doubt you’d listen. somehow i doubt you’d even care.” sheshakes her head. “no, i’m telling you you’d be dead before the week is up, soif you want to last longer than that, if you actually want to make adifference, put a dent in the mercs’ operations, then you might want to find some people.”her smile grows. “a squad.”

garrus stares at herfor a long moment, studying her. curiosity and something else stirs deep in hischest and he turns fully towards her, eyes narrowing something wry. “and youwouldn’t happen to know a few people that might be interested, would you?”

“well,” she shrugs,all casual and indifferent, but the curl of her mouth was definitely coy. “iknow a lot of people.”

it actually pulls ashort laugh from him, the sound raspy and gravelly but genuine, and it startleshim. he hasn’t laughed in long while, hasn’t had much reason to, not sinceshepard and the normandy…

he shakes himselffrom those thoughts and turns his attention back to the woman in front of him.“then I’d appreciate any help you could give me.”

and from there, garrus finds himself payingvisits to kagome’s modest little apartment every once in a while. sometimes tosee if she’ll give him any intel picked up from her other visitors (shedoesn’t), sometimes to ask if she knows somebody that could get him one thing oranother (that, she could help with) or if she heard any rumors about this murderor a string of missing people (she was more forthcoming when it came to thingslike that, and didn’t mind passing on info she’d heard on her own). andeventually every once in a while turns into a few times a week, to say hi, tochat, sometimes to have a drink.

except as garrus’ team grows and they make aname of their own, they start to make waves – it doesn’t take long after forthe wrong people to make connections, and even all the friends kagome madedoesn’t stop her apartment door from bursting open one day, ppl crashing in armed withguns and demands that she come with them, archangel on the tips of their tongues.

but it’s omega of course, practicallyeveryone was armed one way or another. kagome was no different. it didn’t hurtthat they sent a small group, thinking she’d come without a fight. throwing upa barrier and knocking them out with her biotics was too easy – not a lotpeople even know she was a biotic, so the element of surprise was with her.

It takes over an hour after the fact that hehears about it – he storms over and into her place to see it in shambles, theintruders still knocked out, and kagome gone with the wind.

there’s blood.

none of the mercenaries are bleeding.

suffice to say, garrus is neither gentle norpatient when he grabs one off the ground and shakes him awake to interrogatehim, and it’s only the slightest relief to hear they weren’t able to take her.

even that is squashed when he hears it’sbecause of him that they even came for her, and he’s none to kind when he knocks the fucker out again with the butt ofhis rifle before he’s off to find her.

he’s been looking for over 24 hours whensomeone approaches him, or rather, knocks into him under the guise of passinghim a note with an address on it.

he goes to it, of course, recognizes thehandwriting as well as the address and it’s with knee weakening relief to findher safe and sound in a well-guarded room in afterlife, nursing only a grazeand a strong drink, not even caring how she was even able to organize it.

(aria’s an old friend, she later says, muchto his bewilderment)

and there’s a moment™, garrus crouched down in front of kagome where she’sresting on the couch, and he reaches out to gently take her injured arm,mandibles fluttering in his distress, subvocals thrumming almost a whine when he turns toapologize that she stops him, striking him speechless as she reaches up to touchthe side of his face and smile kindly as she simply says, “not your fault.”

afterward, after garrus double checks on herwound and checks her over for any other injuries despite her rolling eyes andinsistence that she’s fine, and they’re left sitting together on the couch bothnursing a drink of their own, sitting close enough that their thighs arepressed together, she turns to him and says that since she can’t go home now,there’s nothing left but to join up with him now.

to which garrus sputters, choking mid-sip onhis drink, but because he couldn’t find any reason to object (not that heactually wanted to object – if he washonest, if he had ever thought there was the slightest chance she’d actuallyagree, he’d have asked her months ago)he agrees and welcomes her on board.

she fits in nicely with his crew, shepractically already knew most of them in some way or another, and from thereit’s smooth sailing. he couldn’t ask for a better squad, and it was almost tooeasy to disrupt the stranglehold the three merc groups had on omega.

(there’s a human saying about knocking onwood when it came to chancing fate, and if there had actually been any nearby he’d have done so in a heartbeat)

it takes him a long while before he realizes he’snot just fond of her, but attracted toher – it isn’t until they’re betrayed by one of their own that he recognizesthe driving force behind the strong sense of protectiveness that overwhelms himwhen they’re in a firefight, the same one that spikes whenever she dives out of cover tohelp when someone gets hit, and in the months that follow when it’s just themtwo holding the fort against wave after wave of mercs, it’s her that compelshim not to throw himself in one last blaze of glory to take out as many mercsas he can.

when shepard comes blazing in, he almostcouldn’t believe it, he thinks his prayers to the spirits for some way for themto get out of the corner they’d been backed into were answered in the form of amiracle.

he should have remembered the spirits had asick sense of humor when he took a rocket to the face.

[takadasaiko]

Truth in the Lies: Not Going Anywhere

FFN II AO3

Summary: Red isn't the only one that's looking for those bones.

Not Going Anywhere

They had come to his home. Where his family lived. Where his child lived. They could have picked him up anywhere else, but they had come here.

Agnes was wailing from her room, the sound of the fight and then the gunshots no doubt terrifying the little girl. Tom struggled to get to his knees. If he could do that he could get to his feet, and if he could get to his feet he could keep fighting. The problem was that he was having trouble getting his body to obey the first command to roll over so he could get to his knees.

"No, no," one of the the intruders said as he came into Tom's line of vision. The younger man gave a muffled groan as a boot pressed down on his chest to make sure he stayed put. "You don't want another hole in you, do you? You're losing enough blood as it is." He leaned in a little and Tom choked on a cry, everything in him feeling the movement and his vision pulsed dangerously. "Where're the bones?"

Dark blue eyes narrowed. "Go to hell," he managed, the last word half swallowed as the man added a bit more pressure to his sternum with the heavy boot.

"You've got a loud kid in there. Marcus, go get her. Maybe Mr Keen will be a little more open when it's his daughter rather than him."

"No," Tom gasped. "No, please!"

He was struggling as best he could, but between the boot holding him down and the blood loss after taking… two bullets? Three? He wasn't sure, but he knew the danger signs and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to that ledge.

There was a loud sound down the small hallway, like the front door being kicked in, and gunshots followed immediately. Tom struggled to look and saw one of the thugs hit the floor hard, his stare vacant. He hoped that was the one that had been going for Agnes.

He couldn't get a clear line of sight on the new shooter, but the boot left his chest and its owner was gunned down almost immediately, landing hard at Tom's side. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision.

Raymond Reddington came into view, gun aimed, and it was like Tom was living in the worst case scenario of everything that had happened. It would be easy to pin his death on the thugs that had broken in. Liz might never know it was her father that had pulled the final trigger and she certainly wouldn't know why. The secret would die with him. He lifted a trembling hand up, completely defenseless where he lay and he could still hear Agnes crying.

Two different shades of blue eyes met and he saw Reddington pull the trigger once and then again. Tom tensed, waiting for the fresh rush of pain, but it didn't come. Instead he saw Reddington kick the now lifeless body of the man that had been after the suitcase further to the side and the older man knelt down. "Tom," he breathed. "Did you tell them where it is? The suitcase. The bones. Tom, look at me."

The command drew his attention, pulling him from that ledge. "Agnes," he choked out his daughter's name.

Red nodded. "Dembe is checking on her. Focus here and keep your eyes open. Did you tell them?"

"No," Tom managed, the word riding out on a breath.

"She's safe. They didn't hurt her," Dembe's voice sounded and Tom felt himself relax a little.

"Did you make the call?" Red asked.

"Yes."

Tom grimaced and he could feel unconsciousness trying to pull him under, making it harder and harder to work through the dense fog. He blinked hard, a thought striking him. "I promised her," he managed.

"What's that?"

"Promised her I wouldn't…. leave again."

Reddington's lips quirked downward. "And you won't," he said after a moment. "You should never have gotten involved with this. What was Kate thinking?"

"You need to tell her," he managed. "Whatever - whoever - that is…. Liz deserves the truth."

"You and I both know the truth isn't always that simple, is it?" Reddington said pointedly.

"Should I call Elizabeth?" Dembe asked from off to the side and Tom swallowed hard, trying to focus, but he was losing his battle with consciousness.

"From the car. We'll need to get him…"

Where they were taking him, he had no idea. The words faded as the shadows that had been hedging his vision up until that point finally closed in and Tom felt himself slip under.

"He's going to be fine, Elizabeth."

Her pacing halted midstep and she turned on him. "Fine? Men broke into our home, they shot my husband, threatened our daughter and for what?" He was involved in this. She didn't know how and she didn't know to what extent, but Reddington was involved. It couldn't be a coincidence that he had just been there.

Agnes started to fuss in the playpen she had been sleeping in in the makeshift waiting room, her mother's strained voice waking her. Liz moved over and scooped her up, shushing and rocking her.

"You're not aware what your husband has been involved with since he came home?" Reddington asked from his seat, and Liz frowned, shifting Agnes.

"If he's hurt because of something you dragged him into-"

"I assure you, Elizabeth, Tom is perfectly capable of finding trouble without any help from me."

"Still not a denial," she snapped. "You were there pretty fast for someone that wasn't directly involved."

"I apologize. Next time I receive a tip that you or your family are in danger, should I give it a certain amount of time before going in? Would that make you more comfortable?"

Liz snorted, not appreciating the sarcasm dripping from every word. She didn't have a chance to respond before the doctor walked out, pausing. "He's waking up. I'd like to keep the stressors down to a minimum, so one person at a time and-"

Reddington stood, reaching out for Agnes. "Come here, sweet girl. Why don't you come see me?"

Agnes went willingly to him, going for his hat once, but deciding she was too tired for the effort after he dodged. She settled in against him, snug and quieting down. Liz felt a pang of guilt. Red had saved him. She still thought there was a lot more to this story, but if he hadn't been there when he was - regardless of why he'd been there - Liz would have lost everything.

She reached out to her daughter, hand on her back, and let her gaze slide to Red. "Thank you."

"He's stubborn, Elizabeth. He will be fine."

She nodded and turned, following the doctor into the back room that had been made into an OR in record time. It now served as recovery and she felt her chest tighten as she approached the bed. Tom was pale against the sheets, attached to several machines with cuts and bruises and gauze wrapped around deeper wounds to protect the stitching. At least the doctor had removed the breathing tube from earlier.

As she stopped by the bedside she saw one dark blue eye crack open sleepily, the other following and his gaze slowly tried to focus in on her. "Hey," he croaked, his hand moving a little clumsily at his side and she reached to take it.

"Hey yourself. Do you remember what happened?"

He squeezed her hand, his expression shifting as he worked through the pain medication they had given him. Slowly his eyes widened and panic reflected in them. "Agnes-"

"She's fine. Reddington has her just outside." She ran her thumb along his beaten knuckles, trying to soothe him. If he got too riled the doctor would kick her out. "You were shot. Do you know who the guys were?"

And that was guilt there. She hated that expression on him, because the confessions that followed were never pleasant.

"I'm sorry, Liz." He swallowed hard. "I've been trying to… to get answers. I didn't want to drag you into it without answers." He grimaced and one of the machines gave a warning beep.

"Hey," Liz said softly, her free hand moving to push back dark hair.

"I know I promised… I was gonna tell you."

"I know, babe," she murmured. Whatever it was wasn't good, but getting angry at him now wouldn't help either of them. He needed rest and she needed him alive. She had nearly lost him too many times. "And you will, but when you're feeling better, okay? You promised me you weren't leaving. That's the one I need you to keep right now. We'll take anything else as it comes." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and heard him loose a breath.

"Not going anywhere," he managed, sounding like he was already drifting again.

"Good. I'm holding you to that." She glanced to see he had fallen back asleep and she squeezed his hand, pulling it up to her lips and kissing his loosely clutched fingers. "I love you."

They would get through this. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing in their lives were. Whatever it was, they'd get through it together.

Notes: Like most Tom fans, I've been processing that crazy scene at the end of 5.01. I've had a couple of friends mention that they believe it's a misdirect set up to make us think that Red's shooting at Tom, but instead whoever was after Tom was already there and that's who Red was after. I really like the theory and I'll be interested to see how it plays out over the season.

And you guys know me.... if I get a chance for a little hurt/comfort between the Keens, I have a hard time turning that down ;)

[bmgmw]

a hypothetical Riverdale scenario

Heads up this is gonna be long, so more after the cut. So I rewatched all of Riverdale and here’s my current theory. I’m not swearing by any of this in the slightest, just having fun theorizing! And since this show is on the CW, why not get a little crazy with it (okay I got a lot crazy, sorry!)?

Okay let’s break it down into four components: Riverdale parents, Jason & Polly, Grundy (this theory operates under the assumption she’ll either return late this season or next season), and the Riverdale kids. I think that certain Riverdale parents are connected to plotting the murder, Grundy connected to the actual murder, Jason and Polly’s situation just incidental timing, and the Riverdale kids are going to be the ones to figure it all out (which goes with the show’s theme of ‘breaking assumptions’—as Jughead tells Betty, ‘we are not our parents’). Clearly there a lot of parallels between the parents and the kids, and the kids solving the murder and changing dynamics would be one way to break those assumptions and parallels.

Let’s start with the adults. In the Riverdale One Shot Comics (set in canon, showing what the kids did over that summer), we learn that Hiram Lodge was arrested on the evening of July 4th (I can’t remember if this is mentioned in the show as well or not). We also know he’s still basically conducting his shady business from prison. He wants to gain real estate/control of Riverdale, and he hires the Serpents to lower the value on the drive in property so he can buy it for a cheap price via Hermione.

So what does this have to do with Jason? Well, we know both the Lodges and the Coopers have antagonistic relationships with the Blossoms. But while the Coopers’ bad blood with the Blossoms stems from more personal reasons (old blood feud, Jason/Polly, Penny vs Alice catfighting), the Lodges’ beef with the Blossoms is more business related. Penelope says the Lodges have sticky fingers, Hermione says Penelope doesn’t know the difference between money and class, and then there’s noteworthy bit from Jason’s funeral:

Penelope: You think you’re so clever coming here offering your pity?                 Hermione: What are you talking about? Penelope: …So you’ve come to gloat? With the warmest regards from your husband, I’m sure….

While it hasn’t explicitly been stated, the Blossoms most likely still run the Riverdale maple industry. The town is proud of their maple. And what does the maple industry need? Maple trees, of course. With Hiram wanting to develop and take over Riverdale, I think he wanted to develop on the forest surrounding Sweetwater River. There’s certainly disdain from the Blossoms regarding Hiram (as seen in that Penelope/Hermione bit, and it can also be seen in the entire dinner conversation with how Clifford speaks to Veronica about the maple industry and then takes digs at Hiram).

What’s one way to make Sweetwater River less appealing and make it easier to get approval to build around? A murder would certainly do it. And a murder of the competition’s son in particular would definitely send a message to the Blossoms (one that Penelope seems to be aware of in that bit she has with Hermione at the funeral). So I think the murder was planned by Hiram. I think Hiram wanted to get arrested on July 4th, so he could say he has a solid alibi of being in police custody. My guess is he planned to send a Serpent, let’s say KP perhaps, to actually do the job after Hiram was safely arrested, and pay him well (this is possibly why KP says to her the money wasn’t enough).

However, this is a CW show, I highly doubt it’s as simple as “Hiram hired the Serpents and KP killed Jason, the end”. So let’s get a little crazy with this theory. So even though KP was demanding the extra money from Hermione (who I don’t think knew about Hiram planning the murder), I’m going to theorize he was doing so without having been the one to actually end up killing Jason. But since Jason ends up dead anyway and Hiram is away in prison, he figures he can take credit (to Hiram, not publicly ofc) for the murder and trick Hiram to paying him anyway (at least before Jughead gets questioned, I think FP changes his plan after that).

So who actually murdered Jason? Grundy, but not in connection to Hiram at all. So let’s back track a little first to the whole Jason & Polly situation. We know Jason and Polly dated. With Jason now dead and Polly being an unreliable narrator (as most of these people are tbh), we have to sort of piece together the reality of their relationship via context clues. Based on the fact that Jason wrote Polly’s name in the hook up book and based on the way Polly talks about Jason, I think Jason cared about her, but just not as much as she cared about him. And when Polly tells Jason about being pregnant, he’s probably freaked out to how the parents will react due to the Cooper-Blossom feud/the fact that they’re all nuts, so he proposes to Polly and tells her they’ll run away and start a new life. As confirmed by Trevor (football player that Betty goes on a date with), Jason begins selling his stuff and selling drugs to earn his own money. I think during this time he gets involved with the Serpents (re: the drugs). So now the Serpents, already hired by Hiram for the murder, now have double the reason to keep a close eye on Jason.

Jason and Polly hide the car (that Betty and Jughead later find), and Jason enlists Cheryl to help pull off his disappearance plan, but doesn’t tell her much beyond the fact that he wants to run away from their overbearing parents. They go through with the boat ride and Jason makes it to the other side of the river. He waits for Polly, who obviously never shows because Alice sends her away (how did Alice find out? Probably read her diary like she did to Betty). After waiting a while, Jason becomes worried and decides to search for Polly. But he’s too far into this plan to actually back out of it and go home. Jason gets back to the Riverdale side of the river (perhaps w/ help from Sabrina who lives on the Greendale side? Or maybe he just swims, he is captain of the water polo team after all).

So Jason is alone in the woods, a prime opportunity for KP to carry out the task: capture Jason and then kill him once Hiram has his alibi of being arrested. But before that even gets a chance of happening, Jason is taken by Grundy (I’m assuming here that her story about her ex is fake). We know Jason was getting “independent study” from Grundy before Archie (so like end of previous school year), so I’m willing to bet it was of similar nature….except unlike Archie, he rejected her advances. We know Grundy was at the river with Archie at 6 AM that morning when they heard Dilton’s gunshot, but we don’t know what happened after. We know the Blossom twins arrived at the river around a just a bit earlier (“just after dawn”, narrates Jughead). In Dilton’s flashback when he reveals he saw Grundy’s car at the river, it’s only the car shown, there’s less daylight and the campfire fit doesn’t look like it’s been used (which is different compared to the lake flashbacks of Archie/Grundy at 6 AM). So I’m guessing he saw the car earlier than 6.  I think Grundy got to lake early to wait to meet up with Archie and she saw Cheryl and Jason drive by that road near the lake edge. Archie arrives closer to 6, they have their little picnic rendezvous, and they hear Dilton’s gunshot after 6. They split up. Archie leaves to go to work or whatever boring Archie thing he does, and Grundy gets in her car and leaves, encounters Jason along the road in the woods, and offers him a ride (typical Grundy move). Desperate, he accepts. She lets him stay at her place and hide out, and once again she tries to make an advance. But he rejects her again, telling her about Polly, which sets her off. So she ties him up, keeps him hostage for a week (trying to win him over), and eventually shoots him on the 11th (we know she has a gun). She dumps the body in the river, since she knows that’s where he was last spotted and where Cheryl said he drowned (and water helps rid of some evidence). Like Betty says in her end of 1x04 monologue, “Maybe I was right about some things too. Maybe Miss Grundy was dangerous in some way”. All those references about how Jason and Archie resemble each other (plus the football similarities) make sense in this scenario. The murder target wasn’t supposed to be Archie, as some people theorize, but it certainly could have been had things gone differently. And if Grundy comes back before being found out as the murderer, well, Archie could be in trouble then possibly as her next attempted victim (especially if she sees him w/ Valerie/whatever girl he’s into at that time). The fact that in 1x04 they bring up jail as an option but agree to her volunteering to quit and leave town makes me think she won’t leave town forever….

So what about FP and Jason’s car? Well I think he followed Jughead and Betty to protect Jughead. He saw Jughead got his prints all over it, so to protect him, as well as himself (due to the drugs) connection, he torches the car. As much of a drunk that FP is, he does seem to care about his son, and he clearly did not want to see him getting in trouble with the sheriff, especially for something he didn’t do. As for Jason’s jacket, I think he kept it in order to plant it on someone else, probably Fred Andrews. Fred is a pretty good person to frame: Fred and the Blossoms seem to have some sort of drama going judging by the 1x08 promo of Fred confronting Clifford (“you’re ruining my son’s chances”), Fred is very passionate about Archie’s football and Archie taking over Jason’s spot wouldn’t help a framed Fred look good, Fred won the construction contract for constructing Hiram’s former drive in property (thus tying him to Hiram on paper) with Hiram’s wife as his bookkeeper and romantic interest. The more Fred ties himself unknowingly to the Lodges’ business, the better he becomes as the person to frame. And FP certainly has personal reasons to plant the jacket to frame Fred. And if seeing what Jughead is going through really makes FP want to try to change his ways, then focusing on framing Fred, as messed up as it is, puts the spotlight on Fred and the Lodges, not the Serpents and the Lodges. It would set up FP in a good spot. Hiram wouldn’t rat FP out because doing so would also implicate Hiram, since FP didn’t actually murder Jason he’s technically innocent, and if FP goes to work with Fred again, he wouldn’t have an apparent motive to frame Fred…..but the other Serpents would since Fred and FP would be destroying the Serpent hang out spot. So even if people started to realize Fred was framed, FP doesn’t appear to have as much motive as the rest of the Serpents. Additionally, Molly Ringwald is set to appear in episode ten as Mary Andrews (Archie’s mom). According to Variety, she “blows back into town in her family’s hour of need”. Fred being framed for murder would be a pretty compelling hour of need and reason for her to show up. (i also think everyone’s gonna air their dirty laundry out at the homecoming dance in this ep, and we’ll get more of the adults backstories of their relatonships–like how Mary, Hermione, and Alice were friends).

(And one last loose end: Hal and the murder board. I think he just wanted to protect Polly and her secrets tbh. The poor guy was crying at home videos of her.)

Anyway, if anything even close to this hypothetical craziness happens, then I reckon that Season 2′s “Big Bads” are going to be Hiram, potentially Grundy round 2 (to actually finish her story line), and probably a new person.

Of course…..I could be way off on all of this, and it was really Kevin the whole time. XD

[khiphopfrictionals]

Ten Toes Down: (1/10) Gray Scenario AU

Ten Toes Down

//

‘Sunghwa,“ A voice calls out as the figure approaches him.

He recognizes her and walks toward her. He stretches out his arm to reach her. Before he could touch her, he hears gunshot being fired – bang, bang, bang. She goes falling down blood covering her chest.

‘Sunghwa!’ He hears her scream, ‘Sunghwa!’

With that, Sunghwa jolts up from his nightmare, sweat soaking through his shirt as he breaths heavily. He rubs his face and touches his wet tears – however, he feels numb to all of his surroundings. He falls back onto his bed, closing his eyes but images of her keeps on coming.

He wonders when the heavens will forgive him for all the sins he committed. But who was he kidding? How many lives have died at his hands?

Countless.

It’s too late to beg the gods to pardon him now.  

//

Many people dubs New York as the city that never sleeps – clearly, they haven’t been to Seoul.

You arrived in Seoul, Korea three years ago as a lost soul and an outsider. It was a struggle to find a place to live and a job but you somehow managed to survive. Till this day, you don’t know exactly what captivated you to this city.

Perhaps it’s because of your mom. Your mom always spoke of Seoul as a beautiful place – and the people as kind as they can be. You do not doubt any of that. However, you do not find Seoul to be as beautiful as how your mom described it.

Nonetheless, you feel closer to her here than ever – and that’s why you came to Seoul, right? You want to find a place to call home again.

Look around at the flashing lights; you realize that you can never get tired of this sight. Flipping your wrist up to glance at the time, five minutes till 9pm and at this rate you will probably be late.

You hurriedly walk pass the flashing neon signs that caught your attention earlier as if they didn’t catch your interest at all in the first place.

//

“Boss, where to?” The driver asks, looking into the rear mirror.

“Just drive.” Sunghwa commands as he stares out the window.

The street of Seoul has changed a lot through the years –he should know, he grew up on these streets. Sure, Seoul has become a modern city – and every modern city has its model citizens to distract from the unruly underworld.

Sunghwa wishes he’s a part of the latter but he chose this life long ago.

As the car drives on, Sunghwa watches the streetlights dance passes him through his window. Every now and then, he’ll lock his gaze on a figure walking, talking on their phone perhaps, and laughing with friends perhaps. His gaze would not last long as he losses interest in them quickly.

When the car comes to a standstill at a red light, Sunghwa watches the people on the crosswalk but focusing on no one in particular. As the crowd on the crosswalk dies down, a female figure quickly jogs cross –and Sunghwa just happens to catch a glance of her face.

His eyes follow her figure until he could no longer do so as she disappears into the crowd. It’s like he just saw a ghost of his past.

“Turn.” He barks at the driver.

He feels a sense of relief when he catches sight of her again. She looks like her –the woman that still haunts his dreams. He watches her take a turn to a one way street and the panic of losing her sets in.

“Stop,” Sunghwa commands and before the car could arrive to a complete stop he’s already out of the door. He feels the blood pumping through his veins as he runs down the street toward the direction where he last saw her.  

His eyes focus hard, trying to pick her out from the crowd. When he spots hers, he sees her entering a bar.

//

“Don’t look but someone’s checking you out.” The bartender whispers conspicuously while still wiping off a glass. “The last booth, on the left.” He says.

You wish to have the nerve to confidently snap your head back to take a look, but really, this is the last thing you need right now – to have some drunkard ogling at you in this shithole. But curiosity always kill the cat so you just submissively turned around in the pointed direction.

The guy is, well, dark, because the lights are dimmed and it’s his only clearly visible trait. A comb over, with a face smooth like a baby’s bottom. To your surprise, the guy is a total babe and could ogle at you all he wants, shithole or not.

The man catches your eyes with his smoldering orbs and that is when you become aware of the fact that you’re staring –straight at the shadowed stranger.

Shaking your head and flushing up, you return to your beer and gulps it down in one swing. You put your bottle so that it reflects what is happening in the left booth and resume eating and talking at a leisure pace with the bartender.

The bartender shouts something at the man and he stands up. You turn your head, just a millimeter so that you could follow the man’s movements.

He is tall, jackpot you think to yourself. He’s wearing dark trousers and a white shirt that accentuated his form. And the way the guy moves! He’s obviously completely out of his element in this shithole bar, yet he manages to appear absolutely at ease, despite the manner in which his eyes darts from one corner to another. You would never even dream of looking that self-confident.

Then the man somehow escapes from your field of vision. You, desperate not to lose him, whips your head around to scan the other side of the bar for him. Suddenly, you heard a flat, “Fuck!”

You spin around only to see the dark stranger just next to you and the bartender eyeing the peanuts rolling on the floor. The guy is just trying to take his peanuts and clearly planning on sitting next to you when you knocked a plate of peanuts out of his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” You mumble out your most frequently used line but this time you truly wish with all your heart to be forgiven, “I didn’t see you.”

“You’ve got a good aim then,” the stranger says.

You grin, hoping to warm him up to yourself.

“I’m really sorry,” it takes every ounce of your control not to openly gape at the man. Up close he’s even more handsome.

“I’m ___,” you blurt out, extending your hand.

The man smirks as he takes your hand. You blushes.

“Sunghwa.” The man says.

“Sunghwa,” You repeat after the man.

“No one calls me by my given name.” The comment makes you tilt your head to look at the not-so-strange stranger. Not his eyes, mind you, but his chest. His subtly rising and falling chest, mirroring the beats of your heart.

“Wh-what do they call you?” You licked your lips and all but squeaked at the sight of a small crystal stud in the man’s ear.

“Gray,” the name comes out emphatically as the man watches your reaction carefully. When you give him no reaction in particular, he continues, “My… coworkers, you could say, calls me that. However, you can call me Sunghwa if you like.”

“Well, I’m not your co-worker,” you smile a little, “That is, I work at The Reds so unless they’ve done some employing since this morning…”

“The Reds?”

You couldn’t read the weird tone.

“It’s a café, I mean, I’m a waitress here…”

The man laughs. You turn red.

“A café? God, you’ve had me here for a moment,” the man shakes his head.

“Excuse me?” You asks.

“I thought you actually worked at The Reds,” You display no recognition still so he adds, more forcefully, “Soccer team.”

“Oh-oh,” you pretend to understand what he’s saying, “No. It’s a café.”

Then, to avoid further questioning that would lead to sure embarrassment and losing all your chances with the man, you blurt, “What do you do?”

Another shrug. “Nothing fascinating,” He motions to the bartender to give him another drink, “I make people buy stuff they couldn’t possibly ever need.”

“You’re a sales agent?” You say quickly. The man glares at you as if you suggested something completely outrageous.

“I work at an ad agency,” he snaps, “But then, I guess it’s hardly different.”

You try to appear apologetic for causing such a great offense, suddenly deciding that the man is like a dog with more bark than bite. You suddenly feel a welcoming warmth in your chest.

“You know,” the ad guy begins, “Before you destroyed my peanuts and completely threw me off, I was going to walk up to you and say something like ‘I’ve never seen you around here’.”

You work up the courage to meet his eyes. They were sparkling with amusement.

“But I bet it’s for the better I didn’t get the chance. It’s probably the lamest pick-up line ever.”

You inwardly agreed. It’s a line that always made those romantic comedy characters walk out.

“Besides,” the man says, some of the amusement creeping into his voice, “It would be the fattest lie, too. It’s exactly the first time I’ve been here and you must get people hitting on you every night.”

Talk about burning up. God, did the man just imply you’re hot, attractive and get a lot of offers? More compliments in one sentence than imaginable.

“Actually,” you just have to clear up some misconceptions before he makes a fool of himself, “You would be right saying it.”

“Oh, I assumed…”

“No, I just was stood up by my friend and ended up here alone,” you spot a barely-hidden frown forming on the man’s face, “He probably went out with her other friends, because, truthfully, we’re not that close friends,” you desperately want the man to understand you’re not in a relationship.

It couldn’t have been the best way to put it, but the man seems to be pleased with the news.

“He’s a jerk,” the man says, “Feel free to inform him of that.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at that. You would be definitely ‘informing’ Elo of everything that had happened.

“So, a beer?”

You laugh and soon the man snickers too. The ice is broken.

It turns out that ‘Sunghwa’ is a great guy, just as you had thought from the very beginning. You even feel at ease enough with him to confess why you decided to come to Korea with no plans and just $1,000 to your name.

The sorest spot of the whole conversation is when Sunghwa calls you an idiot and demand to know what you would have done if you couldn’t find a job or a place to stay. You never even entertained the possibility in your head, so you gape, splutter, realizes that Sunghwa may think you lack any common sense as a human being and finally admits to him that you hadn’t envision such a scenario.

Sunghwa gives it a rest then, shrugging, which seems to be his favorite gesture, but didn’t apologize for being crude.  

After those few hours in his company you come to a conclusion that Sunghwa simply didn’t do apologizing, no matter what he says. And he keeps on saying a lot. Not in many words, but in spot-on phrases. Half of which a normal person would classify as down-right offensive. But you’re not a normal person but a person with a half-develop crush of the size of Asia.

Sometime later, after Sunghwa had somehow managed to move his barstool so that his knee is touching your thigh, a wave of panic hit you so hard you almost run away. Sunghwa’s idea of a personal space is a bit flawed from the start, if you take into consideration how often he pats, pets or just fleetingly graze his fingers on different parts of your body.

It’s a Friday night and he’s a handsome guy –you’re pretty sure he may be expecting something more than a sappy conversation.

You shut your eyes. God, did you truly believed that a gorgeous ad exec would want to play a high school crush with you?  

You jerk away from Sunghwa’s touch as if he burns. Sunghwa leans back too, apparently confused and irritated.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s past midnight,” You whisper, trying to get off your own stool.

“Yes, and what?” Sunghwa pins you down with his hard glare.

“I have work tomorrow. I start at eight, and it takes me ages to get home and to get to The Reds and I really don’t want to take a half-deserted train…” you babbles on, feeling torn between a heartfelt desire to stay with Sunghwa and your voice of reason suggesting you should get out before things get messy.

Sunghwa shocks the hell out of you when he simply glance down at his watch.

“I guess you’re right,” he admits, “But the trains won’t be that empty yet.”

You slump forward in relief, congratulating yourself for jumping to conclusions yet again. Then, you quickly stands up from the stool because you just declared you had to leave. You begin buttoning up your jacket with clumsy fingers under Sunghwa’s stare.

“Why don’t you give the gentleman your number?” The bartender suggests, making you put the button into a wrong hole.

“Why don’t you stay the hell out of our business?” Sunghwa spats at the bartender before you look up.

You watch the bartender raises up his hands in mock-surrender and fervently wishes you thought of that. You could try giving Sunghwa your number, because what harm could be in it? The worst would be if he never calls, but that wouldn’t be surprising.

Sunghwa’s arm breaks your train of thoughts.

“What?” You look up to see Sunghwa smirking.

“Here,” Sunghwa carefully puts a rolled napkin into your pocket, “Call me.”

//

As soon as the girl is out of sight, a man approaches Sunghwa and takes a seat right next to him. Sunghwa takes no notice of him and signal for the bartender to get him another drink.

The man holds up a box of cigarettes –offering one to Sunghwa and he takes one without saying a word in return. The man takes out a lighter from his back pocket –lighting up the cigarette for Sunghwa.

“Not every day does the all mighty Gray show up at my bar.” The man begins. Sunghwa remains quiet as he continues to pay the man no attention.

It didn’t seem to offend the man in the least, “I don’t think Jay would be please to know that his right hand-man is going around dropping his identity to a girl.” The man says.

“And I don’t think Jay will be please to know that his left-hand man is fucking around in this shithole of a bar,” Sunghwa retorts back, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he answers.

The man by the name of Simon simply laughs, unaffected by Sunghwa’s ill-mannered behavior towards him.

//

[withacorkscrew-blog]

Sherlock: The Lying Detective

**Sherlock analysis/spoilers below**

In which some people don’t understand what makes villains villainous, what makes characters human, and the difference between love and disaster (or style and substance). 

And in which, again, “some people” does not refer to Sherlock Holmes (mostly).

Also ft. the id!fic I very specifically asked to not ever see, and sadness. 

Starting with the easiest bits, going towards the hardest. 

Does this give us an arc? The return of Billy. The return of Irene Adler. Appearances by Mrs Hudson and Molly and Lestrade and Lady Smallwood. Redbeard, too. The return of a whole bundle of visual motifs: Sherlock’s case wall, Sherlock’s violence towards his case wall, an almost replica of the shot following Irene Adler’s drugging of Sherlock, Sherlock’s deduction with the window and the attendant visual affects, Sherlock’s juvenile wit with the Bollocks map, Benedict Cumberbatch seeming to infuse a certain amount of joy into the role again during Sherlock’s breakdown...a lot of old favorites returned to the show this week, and it felt good. In the moment. But, at least to this point, those pieces don’t feel like they fit together. The underlying logic that would unite them isn’t there. It could be! What if Billy had given Sherlock some of the memory drug? Or what if Mrs Hudson and Billy were in cahoots to get Sherlock the least damaging drugs since, as she points out, her husband was a drug dealer? What if more of the characters interacted with each other? Or did more than their professions, since we get Molly doctoring and Lestrade detectiving, and none of the cohesive human interactions that make the characters feel like more than props? But none of that happened. Maybe the next episode will create that, but at this point It isn't betting odds imo. Not impossible, but not looking great,

Do Mofftiss understand what makes villains villainous? Culverton could have been brilliant political allegory and a psychologically haunting villain. The idea that power creates opportunities for deadly, consequence-free callousness couldn’t be more timely for either European or US audiences. The idea of a rich, powerful man who takes joy in removing people’s agency, who will discard their lives for fun, and who gets away with joking about it on TV...well. The problem is that Mofftiss don’t understand the psychology of marginalization and precarity well enough to understand why that’s a horrific scenario, what’s at stake, how it feels to face down a power that can hold your life in its hands and decide what to do with you based on a whim. They’re closer to being that power than being subject to it (and that’s one reason why this story would’ve been better told in someone else’s hands). That terror is what would’ve made Culverton work. Instead, we get close-ups of his teeth which, like Magnusson’s face-licking, were affectively gross, but not worth more emotionally then a perfunctory wince, and that does more to tell us more how Mofftiss feel about ugly people than it does to establish investment in this nemesis or Sherlock’s victory over him. Reducing him to a fallible, clownish, one-off villain is a waste, and the lack of understanding is telling and terrible.

Did Mofftiss mean to write the TV equivalent of id!fic? Powerful middle-aged white men who make veiled confessions on TV can get away with murder. Are they even trying for subtlety? I mean, I figured that was just my own reading, but then the back to back “It’s amazing what people will ignore if you’re rich and powerful,” and “With this, I could crack America.” The TARDIS-esque hospital room wallpaper and quick shot to aliens on Culverton’s lot didn’t do much to put me off either. I can no longer tell whether this is self-aware wink-wink nudge-nudging, a total lack of self-awareness, or subconscious leakage. But has anyone checked their airing cupboards?

Do Mofftiss understand what people mean about strong women? Cue maniacal laughter, because we already know the answer. It’s just particularly disappointing in this moment, when these twists could have been really fucking cool. Mrs Hudson is a confident badass and there’s a Holmes sister? That would be brilliant! If it was done brilliantly! So...it isn’t. As much fun as I had watching Mrs Hudson - and it was a lot, until the unease set in - it was so far out of left field I almost hurt my neck trying to look for its source. This is the same Mrs Hudson who jumps at loud noises and cries while being tortured by Americans and can’t tolerate being yelled at by Mycroft - and she’s dodging gunshots and strategically dropping things to handcuff violent drug addicts and convincing the lads downstairs to stuff them in the boot of her sports car? I bought that she might hide a phone in her robe, that sort of matter of fact bravery. I bought her deduction to Mycroft and that she would kick Mycroft’s men out to preserve John’s privacy and emotional space. I’ve long bought that she was exceptional in a number of ways. But put all that in a classic mid-life-crisis-mobile and add a dose of violence, and I’m not sure whether I’m looking at a Mrs Hudson or a retired Bond Girl. I am pretty sure this isn’t the Mrs Hudson we’ve seen before. And Euros...the first thing we learn about her is that she uses her appearance to deceive. The Holmes brothers work on intellect and emotion. The Holmes sister? Straight to feminine wiles. Her first big reveal doesn’t center around her mind; it revolves around the audience watching her recreate a seduction and begin to undress. It’s as though Mofftiss can’t conceive of “strong women” beyond the femme fatale trope and that’s really limited. To say the least. I want to know what Mrs Hudson listens to on the radio and why. I want to know how Molly decides what to make for lunch and what it was like for her to realize who her boyfriend Jim was. I want to know how Irene Adler learned to adminster tranquilizers. I want to know how Donovan felt about Sherlock’s death and how it is for her working with Lestrade and Anderson. I want women with interior lives, with interests and motivations and relationships that don’t revolve around men. Kind of like all the ones I know in real life. 

Who are these people? I’m losing track. John is becoming a superspy, thanks to his internal marylogue, and making some very Sherlock-esque deductions, especially with that happy birthday at the end. He also can’t forgive Sherlock, even though he forgave him a faked death and a two-year-long disappearance, but still has chats with Mycroft (who he has to tell to stop calling?), and is hallucinating his dead wife, who he never really seemed to like very much, and also, in the midst of that, completely rolls with the fact that yet another person who he thought was dead is not actually? Sherlock was abstracted and  distant in the last episode, and in this one he’s half killing himself to provoke John into rescuing him and giving mini-speeches about how death affects people and confessing that he’s afraid of dying and admitting that he texts Irene Adler back and talking about how he has the terrible feeling that we might all be human and holding John in a soft embrace? Mycroft is calling John all the time and flirting with Lady Smallwood and letting information about Sherrinford/Euros slip out accidentally? Lestrade is unconcerned with Sherlock’s well-being? Mrs Hudson is treating central London like Thunder Road? Who are these characters, and where did they come from? And who will they be next week? 

John and Sherlock - what? This meta going around suggests that John has become abusive. Watching the episode, I wondered if Sherlock had. He self-harms as a form of manipulation, he tests John’s loyalty in all sorts of ways, he makes unilateral decisions about what’s in John’s best interest even when that puts John in danger, he puts responsibility for his well-being on John’s shoulders, he condescends to and belittles John regularly, he lies to him, hides things from him, he faked his own death for two years and abandoned him while there were dozens of other people who knew...while the aforelinked meta makes some great points, Sherlock’s behavior isn’t exactly healthy. My point here is not that Sherlock is the abuser, though. My point is that their relationship is deeply, dangerously toxic, and I’m not sure how, or whether, I can keep rooting for it as either a romance or a friendship. My instinct in watching their interactions is that these are two people who have been so deeply hurt by each other that there’s no coming back, no real possibility of trust and good faith. That doesn’t mean there isn’t also love there, or that there couldn’t also be forgiveness, or that there can’t be moments of connection based on their shared history, in which they try to keep being the sources of support and understanding that they once were to each other. I don’t think, for instance, that their hug was unrealistic. But I also don’t think it was a moment of great support and reconciliation so much as a moment of convenience and/or last resort because, as Mary points out, they don’t have other options. That’s not love, platonic or romantic; that’s codependence. And I can’t imagine a scenario in which they would still be able to have a genuinely healthy relationship. For that matter, I can’t imagine a scenario in which they would be able to have a relationship that’s anything other than mutual enabling. If there’s anything to grant here, it’s that they might both want to be in an mutually enabling emotional conflagration; they’ve both got self-destructive streaks a mile wide, and this way they get all the pain and someone else to blame for it, and humans are complicated. And hey, who knows who they’ll be next week? But it’s not a thing I, personally, can hope to see more of. It’s not a thing I want to watch. It’s not a thing that makes me care for the characters or their relationship. With my last reserves of caring about either of them, I no longer want Sherlock and John to be together, in any capacity. I want them at a good distance, preferably with therapists who aren’t villainous family members in disguise. 

And then there’s the show’s treatment of their feelings for one another, which I am too tired on too many levels to even touch with a damn bargepole.

Where does this leave things? If John and Sherlock - their relationship, their teamwork as partners in crime-solving, their interactions - are the heart of the show (which I think they are), and John and Sherlock have both become so destructive to themselves and each other that their relationship, in any capacity, is one I want to see continue - what’s left? 

This episode gives an answer: flash. There were moments that were genuinely exhilarating. Seeing Mrs Hudson play the badass, the reveal of a Holmes sister, the recurrence of ‘Miss Me,’ Benedict Cumberbatch’s joyfully unhinged drug-addled attempts at case-solving...it was exciting to watch. Stylish, quick, colorful. Empty. And a bit sad. This show was great because it was tight and interesting, because the characters were relatable, because viewers’ attention was rewarded. It was never the flash that made it. When the flash is most of what’s left...that’s not much. 

tl;dr:  :( 

Things to watch:

They’ve introduced a technology that can alter memories; on a show based on deduction and intellect that could be an exceptionally powerful plot device. Was it a one-off, or will they manage to make use of it? And if so, will it be as a weapon, or as someone’s choice? And who gets to decide? Or has it already been used?

See also, the trailer for The Final Problem: “Every choice you’ve ever made, every path you’ve ever taken, the man you are today, is your memory of Euros.” “Your memory of” is an interesting choice of wording, especially since the memory is neither so strong nor so recent that (an admittedly drug-addled but still very observant) Sherlock could recognize her in multiple disguises and on multiple occasions.

Potentially related, Sherlock is intrigued by what drugs do to his mind. Will that become a profitable line of inquiry?  

We keep seeing Redbeard, and it’s clear that that’s important. Is Rebeard an abstract representation of something? Did Euros kill Redbeard? Or is there some parallel there - Sherlock was told they both were sent to live on a farm? Sherlock has confused (or been made confused) one with the other? 

When Sherlock and Mary get shot, we see the bullet in slow motion. When Euros shot, we saw a wisp of smoke, but no bullet. Was it a blank? 

Sherlock not having recognized Euros will probs be a thing too, so therefore a thing to watch, idk.

The female detective who appeared briefly in TST, only to disappear again - was that a character who will recur, sloppy continuity/disposable women, or Euros?

What or who is Sherrinford? Another sibling? A location? A code name? 

What the hell was going on in the Holmes household? 

We still don’t know who sent Mary’s CD. Who? Or is this a continuity issue? Or is the explanation that Mary already knew it was going to happen, which I would roll my eyes v heartily about? 

Who will all of the characters be next week? (It’s an adventure!) 

Random thought: There was a person of color in this episode!  Just pointing it out because that doesn’t always happen. As is, of course, to be expected in contemporary London, where everyone is white. Good times, good times. In addition to all the words spilled on this show’s sexism, perhaps we should dedicate some to this show’s casual racist erasure.

[prinzenhasserin]

Rare Male Slash Exchange

Dear Creator!

I had so much fun doing this exchange last year, and please don’t feel obligated to use my prompts. This letter is just in case you might want to poke at some more of my likes. Generally, I’m open to a lot, and will be happy with any rating from gen to explicit.

My AO3 account is here. My prompts are pretty ridiculous in places. That’s just how my mind works! Feel free to play them entirely straight, or subvert them to your heart’s desire. I’m not so much a fan of darkfic, exceptions apply for hopeful/happy resolutions.

Feel also free to include other characters or OCs as side-characters, if they are necessary because of plot reasons. ❤️

(If this letter cribs a lot from my other letters, it’s because I’m lazy, and my likes don’t change around that much :D You can find some of my other letters under the exchange letter tag. I hope you have fun creating!)

Likes:

loyalty 

odd couples! 

found family, dysfunctional families that nevertheless love each other 

historical stories for same-sex pairings that aren't unhappy but that fit with the society of the time (so like, spinster ladies living together; bachelors-for-life); I also like homophobia-free societies! 

cultural differences! age differences! height differences! 

heists, rescue missions 

character driven narratives 

dragons, fairy tales, magical realism, urban fantasy 

Space AUs 

competent characters 

people not realising they’re the most competent at their job/hobby

people failing their way to success 

happy endings, earning your happy ending, open yet hopeful endings 

cynical humour 

mutual pining 

everything is better in suits, corsetry, fancy dresses 

crossdressing 

Identity shenanigans (secret identities, mistaken identities) 

Blatant Lies 

Enemies becoming friends and/or lovers 

outsider POV 

epistolary, poetry, unusual narrative formats 

orange/blue morality (that is, not entirely human morality); grey/grey morality 

non-verbal expressions of affection 

Kinks I’m always down for:

wall sex

shifting power dynamics

semi-public sex

lots of foreplay, drawn out orgasms, edging

desperate sex, drunk sex, we-just-can’t-help-it!sex, sex for life-affirming

sex toys

sex toys in public (though I get embarrassed if someone else notices)

DNWs:

infidelity in mentioned pairings

suicide

permanent character death

Specific Art Likes:

sketches!

textures!

background!

lavishly designed worlds and setting!

Kisses! Sleeping Together!

Trees!

Colours! Black and White! Sepia!

Explicit art! beauty spots and scars! hair!

Astreiant (fanart+fanfic)

Philip Eslingen/Nicolas Rathe

I'd love something exploring why the city has decided on calling Eslingen Rathe's "black dog", or maybe a scenario where Caiazzo uses Eslingen's relationship with Rathe as a distraction leading to much angst (but pls don't end on a unhappy resolution) Rescuing each other from uncomfortable situations/criminals/too much work?

How Rathe deals with Eslingen's coming promotion to the City Guard would also be great! Or even an AU, where they meet later--do they still find each other? (Other very intriguing AU ideas: integrating soulmates into the already pretty wacky magic system of Astreiant, an arranged marriage AU because Caiazzo and the surintendant want to unite Astreiant's lawful element with it's unlawful element...)

for art I'd love some costume porn, but also a spotlight on Eslingen's long hair, or Rathe's ratty exterior, and their contrast to each other. really, illustrating any scene would be amazing

Cowboy Bebop (fanart+fanfic)

Spike Spiegel/Vicious

The whole mysterious past these two have going on with each other is very intriguing to me, and while I'm much more of a fan of enemies to lovers, the other way around is also good. Was Julia just a beard? Did Vicious resent their relationship? How did they come to feel so violently about each other? did Vicious keep Spike as a pet, that also happens to be really good at murder?

Or maybe, their relationship had always been violent, and the whole killing thing was just a courtship gone horribly wrong?

or maybe Spike meets Vicious during on of their bounty hunts, and distracts him from following the crew with sex? maybe they get locked into a treasure vault together, and need to wait for rescue, and things happen?

or maybe, possibly, despite being riddled with gunshots, Spike survives his last stand, and Vicious regrets his hasty decision of killing him, and (okay, this maybe slightly ooc) nurses him back to health?

Original Works (fanart+fanfic)

Prince/Prince of Enemy Country 

- do they know that the other one is royalty? maybe they meet on a Grand Tour, and only later find out that their countries are at war/have a contemptuous relationship? - arranged marriage to end the war? arranged marriage to remove them from the order of succession? - one of them seduces the other for political gain (and/or accidentally manages to fall in love) but also happy with just PWP! - I'd love this in every imaginable setting: set in SPACE, fantasyland, 1920s NYC, modern times, Byzantine Empire; they are fairies, bunnies, mermen, aliens, whatever

Spy/Ghost of Enemy Spy 

- (does the ghost retain a sense of loyalty? it could be interesting either way!) - ghost sex: does the ghost need to possess someone to be able to have sex, or can they influence the spy directly in some way? telepathic sex? dream sex? - does the spy try to seduce the ghost to get at the enemy's secret? does the ghost simply tell them, because he's bored and stopped caring? do they go on spy adventures together? maybe the ghost helps the spy escape from prison, because the ghost was executed because they knew too much and now they want revenge? -also consider: space ghosts.

Young Crime Boss/His Grizzled Bodyguard

- yes please. Special bonus points if the Bodyguard is smitten, but feels so much guilt, and only lets himself be very carefully seduced - I'd love this in every imaginable setting: set in SPACE, fantasyland, 1920s NYC, modern times, Byzantine Empire; they are fairies, bunnies, mermen, aliens, whatever - young boss gets kidnapped and needs rescue? bodyguard manages to get caught by the police trashing the abusive ex-boyfriend, and young boss needs to bail out the bodyguard, and pays too much money and makes the bodyguard pay by using his body?

DCU (Comics) (fanart+fanfic)

John Constantine/Bruce Wayne

I saw this in the tagset, and it's so tantalising! (I am also eagerly awaiting Batman:Damned, so if you want to create something in that direction, feel free to!) Otherwise, I don't really mind which version you write!

- John is a member of the Justice League, and so he had to have met Batman. How does that go? Bonus point if it ends with Constantine in Bruce Wayne's life and bed! - Or maybe Constantine meets the Bruce Wayne persona on one of his adventures, and expresses his utter bewilderment at posh people, as he does, and somehow they end up having sex to resolve their issues? - or perhaps, Batman needs a ritual done, and so he turns to Constantine, who convinces him that nothing can be done without a sex magic ritual?

Harry Potter (fanfic+fanart)

Orion Black/Abraxas Malfoy

--you know what would be really cool? If they had a livelong relationship with each other, and only reluctantly married to get kids (also the reason Orion Black married his cousin, perhaps? Because he was already a "confirmed bachelor"?) would also love a kinky PWP! or love letters that are only found after their death

perhaps they have a fling at school, and Voldemort blackmails them into joining his deatheaters because of it? and there's much drama, but they can't let each other go because of true love?

but also consider a complete AU, where Orion and Abraxas marry for political reasons to give the Malfoy family legitimacy or whatever; or Orion and Abraxas coming back as ghosts and really annoying the owner's of Grimmauld Place with their constant ghost banging (literally and figuratively)

Harry Potter/George Weasley

yes please. Fred can be alive (I prefer that, actually), and I prefer if Ginny wasn't fridged, but I'd really like this way of connecting Harry to the Weasley family. does it start when they are still in school? George really wants to repay Harry for the Triwizard money, and manages to con Harry into some sort of relationship because he feels like that's the only thing he's really good for?

Or, they get together after war is over, and Harry/Ginny stops working out--maybe they fall into bed with each other after a boring Ministry event, and drunkenly decide they need some excitement in their life? Or perhaps, a prank gone wrong looks them into a broom cupboard with or without sex pollen?

The love potions they sell in store are accidentally keyed to George, and Harry manages to get dosed, and somehow it works out great?

Severus Snape/Charlie Weasley

Snape needs to lay low and comes to Romania? Somehow, Snape survives Nagini and brews the best burn healing paste, of which Charlie is always in need?

Charlie comes back as Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, and manages to seduce Snape? I'd prefer if Charlie was at least 17 if they start boning while he's still in school. does it complicate Snape's spying duties? does Charlie dress up in lingerie?

Bungou Stray Dogs (fanfic+fanart)

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Dazai Osamu/Nakajima Atsushi 

- pls give me violent relationships based on mutual assured destruction

- i’d love a relationship based on one-upmanship, on a general push-and-pull, even all the way at the beginning in chapter 9 of the manga, where Dazai is like "My new subordinate is so much better than you ever were."—and they have such a great chemistry between all of them. I’d like it even if you split up the pairings! Each one you could do is very intriguing!

- Dazai is always so hyper-focused on pretty women, and yet, for some reason, most of the people he surrounds himself with are pretty boys, and he’s such a mastermind with all other things, it would be super intriguing to see him have this epic blindspot of how attracted he is to Atsuchi and Akutagawa— Atsuchi and Akutagawa make such great foils too, they’re such great rivals (for Dazai’s affections?)

- does someone finally look them in a room together, to make them work out their tension?

- there’s this new ability user called EL James, and their ability is sex pollen, and it surprises the three of them on a mission? alternatively, I'll take other authors with wacky powers :P

- I’d even love an AU where, say, Dazai is some rich mogul who likes to keep pets, or anything really, as long as you preserve their character dynamics. Or soulmate AUs!

- Dazai manipulates them into sleeping with each other for the greater good, and only then does he notice that he kinda likes them too, and feels much angst about it, or maybe Atsuchi can’t take Akutagawa’s pining, except accidentally he sleeps with him, and then they seduce Dazai together?

- I’d also be very interested in encounters with literary figures that haven’t been seen yet

Inuyasha (fanfic+fanart)

Sesshoumaru/Inuyasha

am here for all the contrived reasons to get them together. Hate!sex? Yes! Sex Pollen? You got me! Arranged marriage by their dad to keep dog demons with dog demons? I am here!

What I like is their contemptuous relationship with each other, that nevertheless evolves – I like that they claim to not spit on the other if they were on fire, but when push comes to shove, they do help each other, and defend the other from their enemies. I like that they are halfbrothers, that they clearly recognise the power in each other, the underlying class issues, and all.

How about a small snippet of them teaming up together? Surprised by sex pollen, or a gender-changing well? time loops would be awesome! as would Inuyasha and Sesshomaru meeting again in the future, with Inuyasha time-travelling and Sesshomaru getting there the conventional way. Would also read soulmates!fic, or a sleeping beauty AU

I see both Inuyasha and Sesshomaru as fairly aggressive and forthright, and would prefer you not to characterise either of them as submissive (outside the bedroom).

The Inheritance Cycle (fanfic+fanart)

Murtagh Morzanson/Eragon Shadeslayer

Would love this at any point during canon, but please don't change the setting! Adding additional worlbuilding is really awesome, though.

- do they sleep together during their days on the run, to keep themselves warm and then it turns into more? do they get caught in an old sex pollen trap somewhere?

- Saphira and Thorn go into heat and it transfers over to their riders?

- would also love post-canon things, where Eragon goes to look for wild dragons, and finds where Murtagh went instead, or something

- AU, in which Galbatorix makes them marry while Eragon is captive, and because they said their vows in Elvish, it's still valid after they kill him, and they have to deal with hearing each others thoughts and being connected until death do them part?

The Three Musketeers - Dumas (fanfic+fanart)

d’Artagnan/Jussac

- Then, there’s also Jussac–and their rivalry is set up so well! The longstanding Cardinal’s Guard against the new impulsive Musketeer? Perfection. And then Jussac disappears, and it made me so sad. - So, rival hate!sex? Are they assigned to protect someone and have to arrange themselves with each other? Are they banding together for a greater enemy? - Is one of them blackmailed for their sexuality, and they can only go to the other for help, because nobody is going to believe the gossip they have about the other? I’d prefer if the blackmail doesn’t put emphasis on homophobia, just that the sexual behaviour was not socially acceptable. - They are wooing the same mistress. Because of reasons, they have to hide in her closet together, and the only reasonable recourse of action is banging each other. - Foiling an assassination attempt? getting imprisoned together, because they duelled in public? - I’d also be game for a total AU! But please preserve the general fucked up character dynamics, because they are what I like about this canon.

d’Artagnan/Athos

- d'Artagnan pays so much attention to Athos, and his many swings of temperament, and he has such a crush on him! It’s hard to tell if he wants to be him, or bang him, and I really really want the latter. When Athos says, he has sworn off of women, what he means is that he’s only interested in men, right? right? that is to say, I’d love canon divergence, where they end up together (and please, with the possibility of longterm happiness) - If you want to set this before Milady’s appearance, sure! If you want to set this after Milady’s appearance, I would love to see the dramatic fallout of Milady flirting with d'Artagnan, or hurt/comfort after Athos kills his wife the second time. - Treville makes them root out the Cardinal’s spies out of his ranks! They have to spend a lot of time close together; or Treville makes them go on duty together, because Athos is very experienced, and that’s not the only thing he’s experienced with ;) - d’Artagnan needs help managing the estate the King grants him, and Athos lends a helping hand I like a good helping about catholic guilt, but not just specifically about homosexuality.

[peaceofpuregold-blog]

GUNS & SHIT (part dos)

OK, so this is the super important one, previous one was just about where I was coming from as the child of a cop and what I was taught from him.

As in the one that might need a boost/reblog if you find it helpful.

I'm going to go over what's the best civilian protocol to an Active Shooter scenario that I was at least taught (police and military personnel are welcome to tag or DM me with additional tips and tricks and I will edit this post) with accommodations and ideas for folks with disabilities. I will also go over tips on how to otherwise increase your chances of survival and avoiding injury ahead of time in case you find yourselves in such a situation in the next part (with assistance from my other parent, who happens to be a nurse and was initially a trauma one at that).

Unfortunately in our current political climate and the past political climate of the past few decades... it is in our best interests to know how to help ourselves and each other until a LOT of shit changes.

Keep in mind, this post is made with one shooter in mind. I'd have to do more research to see what ought to be different for a multiple shooters scenario if there’s enough interest.

Cut for length... Super length. You've been warned... And be warned there’s a LOT of cursing. It’s my way of adding a bit of levity, and it’s how I just write/talk.

First, let us go over the three legs on which this wobbly table stands: Run, Hide, Fight.

These are the three core principles of how to survive an Active Shooter. They are not to be adhered to in that specific order, you choose which to do based on what is most appropriate at the time. Do NOT fall for the linear thinking of taking these steps the order in which it is written, this is a common misconception that seems to occur when people are trained what to do as civilians in an Active Shooter situation in schools and office buildings.

1. Run: Drop yo shit (don't worry about taking things with you, your life and those of others are more important than material objects) and fuckin' GO. Keep as quiet as possible, no shoutin' or screaming. If there are not emergency personnel at the scene already call 911 once you are in a safe place. Give them your address and say there is at least one active shooter there. Stay on the line, they will have further questions, and answer as honestly as possible, do your best not to make assumptions. If you don't know for sure say, “I don't know.” If you are in charge of a small group of children, go over with all of them what to do; when I say run, YOU BEST FOLLOW AND RUN. This step may be combined also with the others I will mention further on.

These are the times when you should start running.

a. You hear the sounds of gunfire in the distance; oy, run in the opposite direction.

b. You know the layout and exit plans of the facility you're in and you are certain they are a short ways away and have not seen the shooter.

c. You have clear exit routes, like say when you're outside like the recent Las Vegas shooting; there are some caveats to this which will be covered in the “Hide” section.

d. Emergency personnel are already on the scene directing you to do so. Please keep hands clear. Do NOT fucking grab a hold of them or touch them or scream in their face. This just makes it harder for them to do their job and ablility to help more people to evacuate more quickly.

e. Some things to consider for folks with disabilities:

i. For the deaf, look for a shit ton of people running in the same direction or scattering, and possibly for flickering lights and see who is doing it. Why? Because... For those who aren't deaf but know someone who is in your vicinity, if you're across the room from them and are out of reach of tapping them on the shoulder, flick the lights on and off quickly a few times. Folks will usually quickly turn to see what's the source of this. If you don't know ASL, motion for them to follow you and say it without sound (some can lip-read, and the quieter you are the better) “follow me and run,” and start runnin'.

ii. For the blind, trust yourself if you think you hear gunshots and go to the nearest exit as quickly as possible. If you are the one leading them or giving other assistance, give them a quick head's up that you're running to the nearest exit and do so. Keep in mind and respect the fact that they may actually be the one giving YOU a head's up on the situation. If they say ya'll should go or “I've got a bad feeling about this...” Star Wars style, respect that shit and roll out.

iii. For those with mobility disabilities or a temporary condition, keep in mind that this is a life or death situation. Normally someone might ask permission to assist (if they know any better) but, BOI YOU AIN'T GOT TIME FOR THAT. If someone is trying to help you that may be unaware as to how to help you best, do your best to explain to who ever is trying to help the best way to assist you and then skedaddle as quickly and quietly as possible along. If you are in a wheelchair, don't be surprised if your chair suddenly takes a life of it's own at MACH 5 after hearing shots or a hell of a lot of screaming. Folks can apologize later and say that they would have otherwise respected your agency and did not intend for this to be in any way an act of ableism or other form of discrimination. [In this situation this is the best course of action I can think of for those in manual wheelchairs and use other mobility aides to prevent death and injury after consulting with some wheelchair bound folks I work with, but I can totally understand that this may be a hot topic or something I might get some blow-back on. I honestly would not mind and welcome it. Please comment and reblog with what ya'll think on the subject. I've only had to use a wheelchair for a short time, and other mobility aides just slightly longer than that. It could be that I was just shit at using them at high speed (I was able to pop some sick wheelies and figure out how to get up/down stairs in odd but functional ways, though because FUCK YOU AND YOUR LACK OF ACCOMMODATIONS).] For folks who don't or never have used aides keep in mind that they may be quicker than or as quick as you (read: dem fancy ass power/electric wheelchairs), if that is the case just make sure they know where to go in an emergency.

iv. For those with processing, developmental, or sensitivity-related disabilities, something like this is best addressed ahead of time. Find a way to be able to tell folks (or for them to tell you) “We need to fuckin' GO,” in the Emergency Code Red Alert sense—maybe a bit more professionally than that if needed. Examples: for those that have a receptive and/or expressive language deficit, practice having a designated emergency “touch” cue to communicate this; if you have a tactile sensitivity, figure out what may be an appropriate cue (verbal or nonverbal); if you have auditory sensitivity... again see the blind folks note. If you aren't the one with the sensitivity, they could be notifying YOU of the situation first (maybe have an emergency phrase or cue that can be used rather than expressing discomfort or your common cues to auditory distress) rather than the other way around. For folks on the other end... Once more, respect that shit and roll out.

v. For other disabilities (like my epilepsy, and of course mental ones are included too for fuck's sake THAT SHIT'S NOT GOOD WHEN SHOTS ARE FLYIN') or a combination thereof, go over ahead of time what protocol would be best  in an emergency situation where you may need to run. Talk to each other. Help each other. Know your limits.

f. There are some other things in mind that are... really sad to cover but need to be spoken about.

i. If you see a small child by themselves with no adult nearby... or a dead/nearly dead one next to them, scoop them (meaning the child) up if you are able to and run.

ii. For larger kids, grab them by the hand and run.

iii. You can encourage other folks to follow you, especially in the case where the exit is a short ways away, but if they choose to shelter in place... that's their decision. Do not waste time trying to convince them if they refuse.

...WELL THAT WAS LOVELY, SHALL WE PROCEED?

2. Hide: shelter in place, once again, shut the fuck up. Generally you hunker down in a room, lock the door, move heavy shit (like an office copier/printer, large furniture, etc) against the door to barricade it, and stay away from said door and any windows. Silence your phone and try to at least turn down the contrast on your screen if not totally turn the screen off. If you feel safe enough, do dial 911, but don't talk! If they don't hear you talking after trying to engage, they might hear what's going on in your surroundings (for instance, gunshots) and may be able to ping your location the same way they find kidnapping victims or abuse victims where they can hear things happening, but don't need to speak to an actual person. If you are in charge of a small group of children, go over with all of them what to do depending on what is best practices in your facility. If you would like to, hide yourself within the room in other furniture that can fit you, but that will impede things I may talk about in step #3. Speaking of, arm yourself if you're able to do so.

These are the times you should hide.

a. You hear the gunshots really fucking close, but don't see the shooter themselves yet.

b. You are in a space where you're unfamiliar of the lay of the land (like how far away the exits are) and cannot see a posted emergency floor plan that labels the  routes to the nearest exits clearly, so find the first room you can if you are not in sight of the shooter; especially if gunshots are coming from the direction you entered.

c. You are dealing with rapid-fire shots and they are descending upon you. So no clear view of the shooter, but it's hailing bullets. Again... see the Las Vegas shooting. For these situations if you cannot find a store to get into or get far enough away and out of range from by simply running the fuck away right out, run into an alleyway and get on the far side of a dumpster (NOT IN IT), or if there are chunks of decorative concrete that happen to be about (hey, some places have random pillars or fancy raised flower beds strewn up and down the street and shit) duck as quickly as you can and take shelter behind them. Concrete is your friend. Steel is your buddy.

d. You are in a large space like a concert hall, so the shooter will have trouble keeping track of all of you, so you run so that you are out of the large space and find a room (preferably) if you're not familiar enough to know where the emergency exits are quickly (which isn't often unless you've been to the venue on several occasions and/or the venue is shit at making that obvious). Dropping quick to the floor if there are things that will hide you from the shooter, like them fancy concert chairs with steel backs and bases, is also an option if you’re pretty near the shooter.

e. If there are cops on the scene and they direct you to shelter in place. This may happen if there are several shooters involved on the scene and they all haven’t been neutralized yet. Once again, keep hands clear, and please don't touch, yell at, or grab them. You may also be told to shelter in place via text at school or a campus-wide alert. Especially, if they state the building where the shooter is and you are anywhere near it STAY THE FUCK PUT. Even if you are not anywhere near the building where the activity may be happening, most campuses have lock-down procedures; please don't hinder anyone trying to carry them out and listen to the directions staff may tell you.

f. For folks with disabilities

i. For the deaf, same thing as before, remember flicky light thing, etc. For those who aren't deaf and you don't know ASL, gesture to be quiet (first finger finger put vertically to the mouth is pretty dang universal) and ask for help moving shit if necessary and position themselves appropriately. Mouth the commands silently as well.

ii. For the blind, do your best, but be warned someone on the other side of the veil might take initiative here. For those on said other side, quickly and quietly let them know what you're doing, and again respect the fact that they may be giving you the head's up instead of the other way around. Move them into a safe position once everything has been blocked off.

iii. For those with mobility based disabilities, BOI LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH A POWERCHAIR WEIGHS (150 all the way up to nearly 400 lbs last I checked for the heavy-duty ones). They can often be the best barricades you'll find in a room, period. You best fuckin' HOPE you have an individual awesome enough to be an owner of such an item if you are not already the fabulous personage in possession of one. Other mobility aides (or parts from them) are fanfuckingtastic at also jamming doors shut. If you are not the owner of these aides and find yourself in a room with folks who are, bring this up to them and ask not only if they are comfortable relinquishing their devices, but how they would prefer to be moved if ya'll need to book it later. Sharing is caring.

iv. For those folks previously covered under 1E4 and 1E5of this lengthy ass post. Just adjust as needed for the “hide” command instead of “run”.

e. See section 1F, exchange “hide” for “run”... I might cry if you make me go point by point again.

3. FIGHT: Do I need to elaborate as to what the heck I mean by this? Please remember, this is not always the last option, sometimes it is your FIRST (often only if that's the case... but not always) option. Keep in mind that there's strength in numbers, and if you fight, you need to COMMIT. Do NOT hesitate. Go full force. Unleash the beast. IT'S CLOBBERIN' TIME. The police and the military are not the only people who are allowed to use force for self defense. I may do another series on this later.

Uncommon weapons include fire extinguishes (honestly the best ones, and probably my personal favorite), office supplies, and mobility aides. Anything heavy and/or with good bludgeoning potential. Naturally, fists and other bits are good for fighting as well. This bit will be shorter... Hopefully. I will admit this will be more successful with one shooter, but hey... it's worth a try.

Times you need to fight.

a. The shooter is right near you (read: within swingin' distance) and you see them start to swing up what will probably be an assault weapon (unless our government and/or our culture DRASTICALLY changes it's shit) at yourself or a group of people with no provocation (I swear, this is probably the only country where I have to go on to “no provocation” instead of ending at “assault weapon” BECAUSE GUESS WHAT FUCKING COUNTRY WHERE IN SEVERAL STATES YOU GET TO OWN SUCH SHIT AS A CIVILIAN, IN FUCKING PUBLIC, AND COULD BE CHARGED WITH ASSAULT IF YOU PHYSICALLY THROW HANDS BECAUSE YOU'RE “INFRIGINING ON MY SECOND AMENDEMENT RIGHTS/GODGIVEN RIGHT TO OWN A GUN”... I'm not sorry for the tangent there... fucking fight me). Don't bother to run and/or hide. If you run away, you'll get a bullet in your back. If you hide when they can fucking see you do it... guess where they're going to go first once they mow down people in the general vicinity. The best you can do not only for yourself and everyone else is to clock this ass in the head and/or body or tackle the mother fucker. Even if you end up dying in the attempt, your distraction may give more folks time to save themselves by using the aforementioned steps, and if you incapacitate them so they are laid out long enough, by the time they've recovered the popo might be on their way to neutralize them.

b. You are near-ish to the shooter (read: short walking distance) from said shooter and they have not taken you out yet. BULL RUSH THIS FOOL. If someone took initiative to commit to 3A, you might have a good chance of legit subduing them. Again there is strength in numbers, especially if there's only one shooter. They can only aim in so many directions at once (read: one).

c. You are hiding and they are able to get the door open. If you had to hide while you heard shots, as I mentioned, make sure as soon as you do your best at barricading yourself in there, silently arm yourself, the position yourself to be against the wall where the door is placed. This will give you an extra moment to ambush them as you will not be in immediate sight when they first open the door. Here you will have more time to find weapons. If there is more than one fire extinguisher, use one to spray them in the fucking eyes and the other to bash. If there are folding chairs, fold them and pretend the shooter is Mick Foley... or Chris Benoit. Take your pick. Monitors, laptop computers, and other office supplies are good, too. For those in class, unless instructed otherwise, in high school and above I would suggest finding something, too. I have not seen anything more scary than a teenager angered to the point of physical violence. USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE.

d. For my disability community folks, mobility aides are fucking awesome. Oxygen tanks are fucking amazing. You have more power in this situation than most folks do. YOU. ARE. ALREADY. ARMED. And for all of my folks with disabilities, I cannot stress enough how important it is to take a self-defense class. We are seen as a vulnerable population and assholes of the armed and unarmed variety will take advantage of this.

Let's show them we're not.

Some special notes: unless you are an expert professional at restraining folks while they are able to fight back, do not attempt to do so until they are unbefuckingconscious and the gun(s) are well away from their person. Stay with them until help arrives. If they come to, kick them and/or use your mobility device/any other weapon you managed to get your hands on to bludgeon them in the head.

If you happen to kill them at any point during this... Whoops.

When the help does arrive be warned you will be probably asked (in a very loud and terrifying fashion) to lie face-down on the ground with your arms spread, or whatever position they ask you to do. Keep your hands clear of anything if at all possible. If you cannot comply (get on the ground, put your hands above your head, etc due to your disability) do your best and say you are doing so. You may be even taken out in zip-ties or cuffs. Keep your cool, be as compliant as possible. Shit will be sorted out later.

Please remember, you are doing this not to be a hero. You are doing this to save yourself. You are taking action, regardless of your condition(s), to increase your chances of survival, to not be a statistic, to not be a victim. Helping those around you is just a lovely side-effect.

[fyasummershowdown]

Exquisite Corpse: Prom, The Final Frontier

This year it was actually going to happen. This year I was finally going to conquer my fear and participate in something most of my friends thought was fun. I couldn’t begin to understand how something so anxiety inducing could be fun, but then again, they didn’t have my problems, so I guess it was understandable. The thought of it actually turned my stomach, but I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t go to prom this year, I might end up dead. Literally.

For those of you who have already read the story and want to skip ahead to the CYOA endings:

•  If you’re looking for your mom to save you, read on for KCFYA's ending.

•  If you’re interested in seeing Maria use the emotion extractor to full effect, read on for LONFYA's ending.

Everyone else, read on…

avlfya:

The reason I’m so opposed to prom dates back many years ago in my preadolescence. By now, living in this small town for so long has really started to get to me. It feels like the world is caving in on itself, and the bubble is about to burst. Prom is only one of the ridiculous traditions that is of the highest importance here, and my group of friends, though not exactly the most popular crew, fully expected each of us to pair off and attend the social function together. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about finding a date.

cifya:

At least, that’s what I thought. My date-to-be, Cam, came down with the chicken pox three days before the dance, so he’ll be staying at home on Saturday night with oven mitts taped to his hands. (Side note: Who in the hell gets chicken pox at age seventeen??) Naturally, the town crier sent up the alarm: “HEAR YE, HEAR YE! MARIA ESPOSITO SEEKS HER PRINCE CHARMING FOR THE BALL!” 

At least that’s what happened in my head. In reality, the town crier was my best friend Emily posting a message on Facebook that sounded a little too much like a Craigslist Casual Encounters ad. I begged her not to click “Post,” not to destroy what dignity I had left, but as with all best friends, there was no convincing her otherwise. But to my amazement, it worked. Within minutes, I had a new prom date. If only I had known that it was Tony de Luca, son of Italian mob boss, Dominic de Luca.

@cltfya you’re up!

cltfya:

With a name like Tony de Luca you’d think he would have booked a date before Christmas. But if you think that, you’ve never met Tony. He should look like a young Robert de Niro, but unfortunately that’s not the case. Not only was he the founding member of the Sunnyvale High School Dungeon and Dragons club, Tony had never outgrown his awkward puberty phase. Every day he wore one of 4 different Game of Thrones t-shirts and the same pair of pants. Though he had a decent head of curly, dark hair, he unfortunately sported a face like a pizza. On top of that, he never sprouted above 5"4’. That might not be so bad if I wasn’t 5"11’ and the tallest girl in my class. I guess I need to go shopping for flats this afternoon. 

I gulped down my weary disappointment and said to myself, “Don’t be superficial. Beauty is on the inside. This guy could be a charmer with personality for days - don’t be so quick to judge. What’s the worst thing that could happen, Maria?”

@fyadallas you’re up!

fyadallas:

While I was at the mall shopping for flats (Side note: Have you ever found a pair of prom-worthy flats? Because what passes for a mall in this one-horse town didn’t have one. single. pair that were remotely okay, and I had to settle for basic black ballerina flats. SO BORING.), I realized what I had to do.

In all honesty, I’ve watched enough teen romantic comedies that it shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure out the answer. What we needed was a makeover montage. You know the kind where the homely girl’s friends put her in a dress, some makeup, and take off her glasses, and suddenly she’s the hottest ticket in town? Everyone realizes what a great person she was now that she wasn’t completely overlook-able? Yes, that should solve my problem nicely.

Except the makeover wouldn’t be for me. It would be for Tony de Luca. Would a tux and a haircut fix his problems? Would I have to fight of tons off girls once we got to the prom?

More importantly, would the mob put out a hit on me if I put some concealer on his zits?

@kcfya, show us where this leads!

kcfya:

It was surprisingly easy to talk Tony into going to the mall with me the Saturday morning of Prom. I thought there’d be more bribing involved, but Tony seemed genuinely excited. Apparently, he didn’t get out of the house much. 

I’d managed to book us the last spot open at Glam-o-Rama, which of course was the 8am slot. Armed with enough coffee to wake a hibernating bear, which I’m sure I resembled in my lazily tossed up hair and last nights make up still smudged under my eyes, the morning surprisingly went fairly smooth. As I paid for a new deep red shade of lipstick called Nosferatu, Tony came sauntering out of Glam-o-Rama looking like…well…there was only so much a mall makeover could do for a guy. Still, it was an improvement, and with a pair of lifts borrowed from my uncle Sal, he was reasonable close to my height.

At least we won’t be a laughing stock, I thought to myself. Aloud I said, “Looking good Tony.”

A sheepish grin fit on his face. He didn’t look half bad when he smiled. He rubbed a hand on his cheek. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep this on all day.” I reached over and pulled his hand away from his face. “By not rubbing it off. That’d be a good start.”

We walked down the escalator and through the double doors that led to the darkened parking garage. Even at 10am, the garage was still full of cars left over from the night before when the only night club in town, Lightening Blue, had its usual Friday night half-priced drinks special for the ladies. You just have to make it ten more hours, I told myself. What could go wrong in ten hours? I quickly found the answer to that question as we approached my car and the sound of a gunshot echoed through the parking garage.

Take it away @kcmofya

kcmofya:

I grabbed Tony and ducked behind the nearest car, a hulking SUV.

“What was tha—”

“Quiet!” I shushed him as we heard voices moving steadily closer to our hiding spot. I crouched further in the shadows of the SUV, my heart pounding. I was suddenly very grateful that the green living movement hadn’t made its way to Sunnyvale yet. Tony stuck his head around the side of the SUV before I could stop him.

“What the hell are you doing?  They’ll see us!” I hissed at him.

“It’s…” he leaned farther forward. “It’s my Uncle Vito and some other guy. I can’t see his face. They’re dragging something behind them. Something big.”

“Probably the body of whoever they just shot! And if they see us, we’re next!”

“Come on. It’s my uncle. He wouldn’t shoot anyone. I’ll just ask him what’s going on.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to just stroll out there and ask a murderer what’s up?” For the son of a mob boss, this kid was pretty clueless. Or pretty brave.

“He’s not a murderer.”

“We heard a gunshot and he’s dragging what’s obviously a body!”  

As we argued over what to do, the two men and whatever they were dragging (A body. It had to be a body, right?) hopped in a car a few rows down and took off. Tony and I crawled out of our hiding spot and ran over to my car.

“We have to call the police! Where is my phone?” I scrambled through my purse. My hands were shaking and I could feel myself sweating right through the make-up I’d just spent the last of my paycheck on. So much for my cat-eye and subtle glow. I was glowing like a pig now.

“Maria, wait. We can’t call the police. Let me call my dad first, okay?”

He pulled out his phone, while I tried to calm myself down. So my prom date is the son of a mob boss and we just witnessed him probably murdering someone. No big deal right?  It’ll be fine. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths.

‘Hey, uh, Maria? My dad wants to talk to you.”

Me? Why does he want to talk to me?!

@lonfya it’s all you!

lonfya:

“Miss Esposito, I trust you and my son are getting along?” Dominic de Luca’s voice was nothing like my expectations. He sounded more like a man accustomed discussing the merits of expensive wines than one suspected of drowning his rivals in buckets of the cheap stuff. Though I’d hoped I’d never have to play this game, I knew the rules: Show respect. Stick to the facts.

“Yes Sir, Mr de Luca.” 

“Good. I’m not going to waste time pretending you don’t understand what’s going on. The original terms of the agreement with your family state that any involvement in our interests would be cause for immediate and…rather final discussions. However, on this one occasion I am willing to overlook your participation. Provided you do something for me.”

Tony had climbed into the front seat and had adjusted the rear-view mirror to get another look at his made-up face, the unblemished skin apparently more interesting than gunshots, a body, and his family’s involvement. I crossed pretty brave off the list of possibilities. “Let me Guess. Keep Tony out of it?”

“Correct. My son isn’t yet aware of what the family business entails. You will do whatever is necessary to keep it that way. In return, I will ensure your involvement remains a secret. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes Sir, Mr de Luca.”

“Good. Have a nice time at prom. Such a magical evening.”

The line went dead. For years I’d lived with worst-case scenarios in my head. Threats, violence, danger. I’d run through every possible variation. Or so I thought. Protecting the oblivious son of the second most powerful mobster in the country on prom night had somehow never factored into my planning. The way I saw it, there were only two choices.

@lrfya tell us what happens next!

lrfya:

I could keep my mouth shut and have an okay time with Tony at the prom. Or I could do what I’ve trained my entire life to do.

Because the gun shot, Uncle Vito, and the body he dragged out of here? They were all adding up in my head. Someone had been following us, and they’d been taken down by Vito. I knew there was no way in hell that Carlo Esposito, my father and the most powerful mobster in the country, would let me go to prom with Dominic De Luca’s son without sending someone from his security detail to tail me.

And I knew who that someone would be.

Joseph Lucas started working for my dad when he was 12 and I was 10. His dad had been my father’s most dedicated employee until he was killed in a stand off against the De Lucas seven years ago, so Joey’d been around most of my life. He was always such a nightmare–burping in my face and yanking my ponytail. I think my dad felt sorry for him, so once he got old enough, Dad would send him on harmless little errands in exchange for pocket money. When he got older, Joey started boxing with some of the other guys, learning tricks of the trade. And since we were in high school together, Dad eventually hired him to be my own personal security detail.

Emily was the only person who knew why Joey was always hanging around, always in the background, never saying much. My other friends assumed he had a huge crush on me, and couldn’t understand why I didn’t like him back. “He’s so hot,” they’d say. “And cut. And mysterious and brooding.”

Which, objectively, yeah, sure, whatever. But I’d always resented Joey’s presence, even when my dad wanted him all up in my business and Joey kept his distance anyway. Even when we’d spar at the gym and he’d take his shirt off. Even when he was hanging around the house eating my food, and watching my TV and grinning his stupid charming grin.

I resented Joey because I didn’t need a bodyguard. And I don’t mean I didn’t need a bodyguard because I was unsafe. I didn’t need a bodyguard because I could take care of myself.

My dad didn’t trust anyone — not even Joey — to completely leave me in their hands. I’d been trained in Krav Maga, knife-throwing, and three different types of mixed martial arts, all by private trainers from a very young age. I could shoot a gun better than any of my dad’s employees. I knew how to untie 36 different kinds of knots, blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And I could track like a hunter.

Dominic wouldn’t have killed Joey outright. He’s too valuable, has too much intel. They most likely wounded him and are keeping him somewhere…Dominic owned commercial property — a bunch of rundown warehouses on the east side of town. It was a starting point, at least.

I buckled my seat belt and turned to Tony. “I have an errand to run. And I’m going to warn you, it’s probably not how you’d like to spend your Saturday. So I’m giving you the opportunity to get out now.”

Tony looked confused. “Get out? We’re in a parking garage! I need a ride home. I’m not getting out.”

I turned the ignition. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” As we pulled up to the street, I stopped. Left? Or right? Look for details…Vito would’ve been in a hurry…a big hurry.

I let out a snort when I saw it. “Let me guess. Your Uncle Vito drives a big, black Cadillac Escalade?”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. “Yeah, why?”

I pointed at the black marks freshly smeared across the road…headed east. “I know those tires. It’s like the official car of mobsters everywhere.” I took a deep breath. I had ten hours to find Uncle Vito, get Joey back without being seen, and get to the prom. And somehow keep Tony from figuring out what I was doing. And if I failed? Dominic would probably kill me.

I threw my car to the right and slammed on the gas. “Hold on tight, Tony.”

@fyaorlandonorth y’all take it from here!

fyaorlandonorth:

We drove in silence for half an hour until Tony finally broke it by asking, “Where are we going, Maria?”

I sucked on my lip and glanced over at him. “Your uncle, uh…he took something of mine. I need to get it back.”

Tony turned towards the window so I couldn’t see his face. “You know, I’m not as clueless as you think I am,” he said, continuing darkly. “Or my father thinks I am.”

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “So you know about—”

“The family business? Your family business?” He cut in. “Enough. So why don’t you just tell me what is really going on?”

In the distance I can see a collection of warehouses near the water, where I���m hoping that Uncle Vito is holding Joey. We’re approaching a small dirt road that seems to meander towards the far end of the buildings, so I hit my blinker and hang a left, coming to a stop just after the turn off. Tony turns to me with a questioning look.

“Alright, I’m just going to lay it all out here. We don’t have time to mess around and I’m done being cautious.” I take a deep breath. “Our dads are some of the biggest Mafia bosses in town. They deal in drugs, but not it’s not the kind you might think.” I feel the words crowding in my mouth, impatient to get out. “There are ways to harness the energy of a large group of people and distill it into an extremely potent yet non-addictive elixir. One drop is better than any high you could imagine, and it lasts for hours. Love, happiness, fear, pain; you name it, they’ve got an elixir for it.”

Tony’s mouth was hanging open, but to his credit, he wasn’t freaking out. “So they…harness the emotions of a crowd?” he asked.

I nodded. “For certain events—like prom, for example—where emotions are heightened, hormones are running wild. Can you imagine the euphoria you would experience if someone put all that energy into a concentrated potion?

“The take is so big that our families will put aside their differences once a year just so we can both get a cut.” I sighed. “I’d finally convinced my dad to put me in charge of making sure things on our end went off without a hitch, but nowyour Uncle Vito has stolen my bodyguard and I need to know why, because from over here, it looks like your dad is planning to turn on us. And if this happens on my watch, I’m going to have to keep a close eye on both sides to make sure my head stays with my body.”

“What you’re saying sounds insane,” Tony said. “But I also feel like it all makes perfect sense.” He squeezed the armrest and swallowed what seemed like a dozen times before giving me a determined nod. “So then let’s go find out what Uncle Vito is up to.”

Run with it, @pghfya!

pghfya:

On the way to Uncle Vito’s lair, I decided on a last minute detour to Taco Bell.  Hey, a girl can get hungry during a Mob chase, and also there was somethingnot on the menu that needed ordering.

“Welcome to Taco Bell, may I take your order?” the speaker blared at me.

“Yeah, can I have a Quesadilla with extra pickles?”

“And a Crunchwrap Supreme!” Tony yells before I can tell him that this isn’t a regular order.

When I pull to the window they hand me a brown paper bag. And then they give me a small plastic one with Tony’s Crunchwrap. I throw over the Crunchwrap and pull away from the window without paying. They know where to get the money for this order.

“I can’t believe you ordered pickles on your quesadilla! That’s so gross. Also, why do they have pickles at a Taco Bell?  This day cannot get weirder!” Tony says around a mouthful of Mexican food.

“I 100% bet that it can.”

I pull into a parking spot and unroll the bag. I’ve never actually had to place this order before, and now that I have, I’m beginning to realize that shit is serious. I look at the Emojiicon Extractor 3000 sitting at the bottom of the bag, take a deep breath and reverse the car. This is going to be one hell of a ride.

When I pull into Vito’s hideout, I notice two things:

There are cows (dairy cows as Tony points out)

Sitting in the field behind the cows is a large, round, silver aircraft of some sort.  If I didn’t know any better, I would say it looks like an alien ship.

“Dude, there are ALIENS here,” Tony says. Well then. I guess I don’t know better.

@fyavanwa What’s next??

fyavanwa:

We quickly fall to a crouch behind a large bale of hay, not ideal for cover, but it’ll do for now. I turn to see what Tony is looking at and promptly whack him upside the head with my empty hand. “Haven’t you ever seen a person in a hazmat suite before!? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of geeky kid, haven’t you ever seen a sci fi flick?” I say in a whisper-yell kind of way.

He gives me a droll look and rubs the back of his head, “It’s a common misconception that to be geeky, one needs to be a sci fi fanatic. I prefer fantasy, like Game of Thrones or DnD. Basically, any kind of RPG or anything really, involving the possibly of dragons.”

“DnD? RPG? Do you only speak in acronyms?”

“Dungeons and Dragons is a type of RPG or Role-Playing Game. But I feel like aliens in general are a big part of science fiction so my original observation wouldn’t be so far outside the realm of possibilities, using your logic of….”

“Shut up…”

I interrupt him, because suddenly I see Vito and the mysterious faced person carrying a slumped over Joey-shaped-lump between them. They are about ten paces ahead of our position and are completely engrossed in watching the hazmat suited people loading large boxes into the round aircraft.

I lean in close to Tony, “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go take those guys out nice and quiet like. You follow close behind me and catch Joey before he falls and makes a big clattering noise, then we silently take him back to the car and get the hell out of here. You got it?”

“I’m not going to let you kill my Uncle” and for a second I think I see some menace behind his painted face.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill anybody. I can set this emotion extractor in such a way that it will only knock a person out for a short time. Just enough for us to get Joey and book it out of here.”

To his credit, Tony doesn’t ask questions like, “How?” or “Why?” or “What will happen if they catch us?” He just nods his head in grudging trust and acceptance. I engage the Emojiicon Extractor, make sure it’s set right, and with a here-we-go nod to Tony, I spring into action…

•  If you’re looking for your mom to save you, read on for KCFYA's ending.

•  If you’re interested in seeing Maria use the emotion extractor to full effect, read on for LONFYA's ending.