#and it's not because she's a reckless troublemaker who would go digging in places she shouldn't (altho that's up there)

[redhead-reporter]

º ✧ 。not for nothing, but ... has anyone CHECKED to see if falling in love with mary jane watson comes with the spider bite? i mean they'd fall for her regardless, just look at her, but the statistics are pretty INSANE

[queenofpurgatoryx]

PART ONE (Sinan x Osman)

a three part fic where osman is the designated nurse of the group, sinan keeps getting injured, friends to idiots to lovers. this is friends to idiots part, mostly. enjoy.

.

It was a game of chicken, really.

It had started out as a game and as a little side gig for Osman to take his mind of off things. He had been tired of trying to pick up the broken pieces of this group for a while now. If he was not doing some physical work, it was planning or thinking ahead or simple things as bringing lunch and sharing his food. And this thing that had been going on for longer than he had thought it would was thrilling. It was fun until it wasn’t, it was comforting until Sinan had to go and do something beyond logic, and it always kept him on his toes for several different reasons.

To understand how it all started, you had to dig deep into his role in their little friend group, you see.

He didn't know when he became the designated carer of the group. He didn’t know exactly when he had learned everyone's favorite snacks or he didn't know when he started waking up a little early to prepare an extra simple sandwich just in case. (The sandwich almost always went to the same person. The one person who treated his body so poorly as if he was punishing himself. Osman saw those actions and he helped with a sandwich.)

He wouldn't consider himself the leader, he was too calculated for that. Yet, he was the calm one, logical one, he was there to tame the hot headeds of their groups. Thank God Işık was there to also be the voice of reason where Osman was too in love with his plans to see them clearly.

Playing the nurse of the group was a surprise to him though.

The first time was not planned at all, right after the chaos that occurred in the lab. Sinan and Kerem were badly injured, Eda did not handle the sight of blood very well (and was not leaving Kerem’s side) and Işık was too emotionally attached to stay rational. While the school nurse took care of their attackers, they were left with supplies to take care of themselves and without even thinking, Osman was cleaning Kerem’s wounds and patching Işık’s arm. His hands were steady and he was not panicking about the severity of their situation or the bloodshut eye of Sinan. He did his work as he if he was in a dream, as if watching from afar.

After that day, it was as if they had signed an agreement to come to Osman whenever someone was injured. Here he was patching up Kerem after his usual talking with fists scenario, taking care of Eda because that girl was careless, giving tips to Işık when she was sick and more and more lately, tending Sinan’s wounds because it was also a common occurance.

Osman had seen him trip and fall face first into the ground while he was drunk. It was at the beginning of summer and Sinan was almost indifferent to the fact that there was a giant cut on his cheek from the fall. It had taken a lot of bickering from rest of the gang to let Osman take care of it.

Of course there had been the time where he had burned his hand while cooking because he was too sleepy, or the time where he had punched a guy who was trying to flirt with Işık even when she wasn’t interested and ended up with a broken finger. Sinan was too… he was not clumsy because he could be very spot on when he wanted to. He just didn’t care and at first Osman didn’t care much either.

It was just Sinan, classic troublemaker.

Not just towards Sinan but for the rest of the group, he could act like a nurse, seeing it as a job and nothing else. Summer came and went, and something shifted in him though. His stomach started to twist when on of them hissed in pain.

It got harder to keep his cool.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He knew he was indeed. "You know I'm not getting paid for this shit. You are like a-"

"Leave then," Sinan said rather harshly. “We are not obligated to hang out anymore. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” he stated as he sat on the bench of his house, his eyebrow was split open and the blood was dripping slowly from his temple to his cheekbones. His hands were hovering on his tighs and they looked bruised, Osman could swear he could see a bone there and he almost threw up.

There were no signs of discomfort in Osman's appearance though, he just sighed dramatically as he kneeled in front of his friend, grabbing his left wrist to take a closer look. "You don't get to have my free service and not listen to me complain about your reckless behavior."

"Maybe I should call someone else if you're gonna talk my ear off- hey! Are you trying to help me or break my hand?"

Osman bit his lip and didn't meet Sinan'a gaze, he could admit to being a little too rough but Sinan was getting on his nerves tonight. "Oh, sorry. I forgot that you're a delicate flower that needs a gentle touch," Osman murmered and moved on to the right hand, it was in the worst condition.

He started to clean Sinan’s hands with water and wiped the wounds with antiseptic, ignored the way Sinan groaned at his teasing. "Is it more gentle now, my lord? Do you also need me to kiss it better?"

Osman raised his gaze to see Sinan’s reaction with a smirk placed on his lips, raising an eyebrow to taste the waters. They were almost at eye level, Sinan sitting with his legs apart and Osman crouching down to tend his hands. "I certainly like the caring nurse better than the bickering twat."

"I knew that you were a little baby at heart. Always making a fuss to get attention," Osman said. He turned his gaze on Sinan'a hands once again, wrappping them up with bandage even though he knew Sinan would take them off in no time. His fingers were long and boney, his skin was fair and the brusises stood out. Osman almost sighed in relief as he finished bandaging, he didn't like seeing the blood on his skin. "There. I can also clean your brow up but it seems fine," Osman stated, Sinan’s bandaged hands still placed in his.

He tried to get up, he managed to straighten his legs out and tower over him but Sinan hadn’t let go of his hands yet. He had to tip his head back to catch Osman’s eyes in this positions, blood coming from his brow seemed to stop but with his head thrown back, it was sliding down a little and he instinctively wanted to reach out and wipe it before it could drip on his white shirt.

He was unable to move his hands though, Sinan still holding on to them and the rough texture of the bandage itched Osman’s skin, Sinan's finger however was cold and soft.

"What?" He said, trying not to sound alarmed. The mischivious glint in Sinan's eyes were rare and Osman knew it meant trouble. He still prefered that glint over the cold dead stare of Sinan's though.

"I thought you were going to kiss it better."

Osman glared at him, to cover his surprise he added a synical laugh. "You're too much work."

"And you should stop giving false promises," Sinan said and Osman gaped at the sight of a faint smile at the edge of Sinan's lips. He was insufferable, well, Osman could do worse. “Are you afraid that it will damege your potential CEO reputation? Because as far as I know rich people do not have actual feelings and if you show a sign of compassion it might mean that you will not become the next Bill Gates-“

"Ugh, shut up, will you?” Osman said with a roll of his eyes.” And- don’t question my honor, I don’t give false promises,” Osman added dramatically, taking a step back without letting go of his hands, leaning forward and bringing Sinan's hands closer to his lips. As if he was in a dare (yet, he didn't know what he was daring Sinan to do exactly) he kept eye contact and moved slow with a smirk. He hadn't realized but he was waiting for Sinan to stop him, but Sinan was just looking and he was not smiling anymore.

Osman stopped staring before this became awkward and his lips touched the rough texture of the bandage, his bottom lip slightly touching the bare skin where the bandage ended. He slowly straighten his back and lowered their hands and as if he had woken up from a trance, he let go with a swift move.

"There. I will also clean your brow, you cannot afford to lose another white shirt."

Sinan didn't say anything and Osman didn't ask. What happened? Why did you get in a fight? Why did you call me for help?

They existed in silence and their game was on. A little dare, a game of chicken between two teenagers. Harmless. For now.

.

sooo, this happened. i will post part 2 soon, i just want to edit grammatical mistakes bc i don’t want to torture the handful amount of people that might read this!

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

➜ Warnings: Slowburn.....

➜ Notes: Who’s ready for 20 chapters of slow burn?

He can’t go any harder.   He can’t go any faster.   “Sir! Sir! Stop, please! Stop right there! Stop!”   It’s a sight to behold — a blonde college student pedalling hard on a bike with all his mustered strength while a horde of suited men are hot on his tail, sprinting fifteen miles per hour and shouting at the top of their lungs in desperation. He’s made them look like the idiots that they are.   People turn around to stare, morning interrupted by the ruckus. Yet he is undeterred, zipping through the crowd, ignoring the eyes of his fellow peers and as he cuts through campus. A black sleek vehicle on the road has its wheels screeching on the asphalt, trying to keep the boy on the bike in their line of sight. They continue to chase him, screaming out his name.   It’s dangerous. He knows it. But their hysterics make him laugh.   He feels free like this, running away, thighs burning as he pedals.   The wind caresses through the strands of his crazy hair, causing his oversized shirt and grey sweatpants to flutter. His clothing is baggy, bed head's a mess, the scruff all over his chin never once giving hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, a polished appearance, shiny cars or luxurious watches to his name.   Just a bike and himself.   And that’s enough for Taehyung.   “Sir, sir! Stop! Please!”   Now only if he had less surrounding bodyguards, or at least less suffocating ones that don’t make him want to hurl himself out the window just to get a nice view of the blue sky. Then everything would be perfect.

At the exact same time and half-across the capital, the plane touches against the tarmac.   The aircraft eventually slows on the runway, engines whirring, white noise loud but inviting as people begin to stir awake, happy to have finally landed and eager to get off. The two pilots wave to you happily as you leave, head stewardess glaring for some reason from the corner of her eye unbeknownst to you, and with your luggage, you cut through visitation and immigration booths. Stopping at only one spot, the person behind the counter looks at your passport and simply says “welcome home” before you’re cutting through the baggage claims, straight out the airport doors.   There’s nothing else you need.   Just your one suitcase and you.   “Where are we off to this afternoon?”   The female taxi driver turns around from her waist, flashing the brightest of smiles despite somehow looking fatigued. You read out the address and she hums, pulling away from the curb.   “Are you visiting?”   “No...this was actually my hometown.” You look out the window, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from suddenly being propelled back to a place that is so familiar and yet foreign to you. “I think I’m staying here for a while.”   “Oh, that’s nice. I hope you don’t mind me asking so many questions. I just really like hearing people’s stories.” She glances in the rear view mirror and you welcome her friendliness. For a long time, you’ve forgotten that this is your home. “Did you miss it?”   “Sort of.”   A lot has changed in nine years. The buildings are different, old ones demolished, new ones built that are sleeker, taller and reaching the height of the sky. But at the same time, it’s still small. Maybe it’s because the skeleton of the city, the foundation, hasn’t altered. Or perhaps because you were shorter and tinier back then and the city seemed so large, scary even.   Though now there are billboards plastered everywhere, advertising products you aren’t familiar with, music leaking out from bustling shops and restaurants, and people you don’t recognize walking around and that you would never come to recognize. Colour seems to explode all around you, the city alive, streets breathing.   “—should really find another job. I mean driving a taxi isn’t terrible, but it’s not what I want to do forever. I have a degree in Human Resource Management. Honours actually. Wonder if I can do anything with that though.” The taxi driver taps her fingers against the wheel. “The economy’s bad these days.”   “Oh, can I actually get off here?” You unknowingly interrupt her life story, peering out the window.   You remember the avenue well — a hot dog food truck on the corner next to the department store, a toy store still standing tall; it’s one that you used to go to on your birthday to pick out your own gift. There’s also new cafes that have opened up, business buildings that make it foreign. There really isn’t a reason for you to get out now, but for nostalgia sakes and ...your intuition that tells you should get out here.   “Sure thing.” She signals to switch lanes, looking over her shoulder and smoothly parking into an empty spot a few meters away. “That’ll be twenty two dollars.” Once you pass her the correct amount of bills, she smiles. “Have a good day and good luck.”   “Thank you. Good luck on finding a new job too.”   The woman thanks you and with your suitcase by your side, you shut the taxi door, looking around at the metropolis, listening to the sounds of the concrete jungle, engines of buses whirring, honks of cars in the distance…   Everything is almost unrecognizable.   The suitcase drags behind you as you walk down the street. It’ll take longer on foot, but you enjoy the surroundings, taking it all in. Your life has always been face-paced. It’s nice to slow things down.   But you don’t notice the bike zipping towards you. The blonde man just a year younger than you are, pedalling hard and looking over his shoulder, having lost the sleek vehicle for now.   Though what is noticeable and what catches your eye is the soft baby blue colour of his bike.   He comes closer to you. One more glance is taken. The boy’s ready to zip across the street. But he’s far too preoccupied to pay any attention to another car speeding down the road, the screech of their wheels, the driver who is distracted.    He simply pedals off the curb, going onto the road.   “Look out!”   On instinct, you grab his arm, right at his elbow and you pull him towards you. With a huge tug, his body collides against yours, but you catch him in your arms, shouldering his weight and holding him up so he doesn’t fall. His bike drops over to the ground in a crash. The speeding car zooms past, fast enough that the wind whips your hair, honk deafening to your eardrums.   You let go of the boy and he’s shocked, knees weak. His legs almost buckle and people around have slowed down to watch the commotion. “You should be more careful. Are you alright?”   Leaning down, your eyes meet his.   “Uh….I-….uh….”   Taehyung is starstruck.   In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker upwards. “License plate zero two nine five seven five…” You immediately dig into your pocket, dialling the number without even looking. “Hi, I’d like to report a reckless driver going southbound on Imlings Avenue and ninth street. Yes. They were speeding. I think they were going at least twenty over the limit. Yes. No. Well, they almost hit a cyclist, but kept on driving.”    You tell them the colour and model of the car before taking your phone off your ear for a second, staring directly at Taehyung again. “Do you need an ambulance, kid?”   “I’m f-fine,” he chokes out, stuck gazing at you.   There’s something familiar about you that he can’t quite put his finger on.   “He’s good. Yes. Thank you.”   You just saved his life — you’re a hero. Yet, you act completely nonchalant about it, indifferent to the bystanders staring. He’s baffled. The way you pulled him in like he weighed nothing. The way you take care of business without batting a single eyelash. Taehyung is in love.   He’s never met someone so sexy before.   “Hello? Kid, are you alright?”   You’ve hung up, now waving your hand in front of his face, making him crash down to reality.   “Uh...what?”   “The police will be on the lookout. Someone might come here soon to check up on things, so you should stick around. I can be your witness.”   “I...um...need to actually get going. It’s….ur-urgent….” He remembers why he was here in the first place and while Taehyung’s eyes are still glued onto your face, unable to be torn off, he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. But running away doesn’t seem so pressing anymore.   “Oh, well….you can always go to the station later then. I think the CCTV over there might have caught it all but if you need me to fill out a report. Here.” You dig into the front pocket of your suitcase, ripping some paper from a traveling pamphlet that was given to you. Grabbing a pen from your jacket pocket, you bite the cap off to scribble down your name and number.   Taehyung’s busy ogling at your mouth and the way you coolly uncapped the pen.   “Here. Just call this number if you need. You should also be wearing a helmet — it’s a law and you can get into trouble without it. Stay safe and be careful.”   “Uh-huh.” His eyes fall down to the paper, taking it while swallowing hard.   It’s an out-of-body experience for him. He almost died. But he’s never felt more alive than now. The thing is though, he’s not an adrenaline junkie. Not in the least bit. His blood runs hot for another reason…..   Taehyung snaps out of when he reads the name you’ve scribbled next to your number.    Then he reads it twice, double checking that his eyes aren’t deceiving him. And they aren’t.   “Y/N….?”   His head whips upwards, but by then, you’re pulling your luggage, wheels rolling on the sidewalk and over the ridges. Taehyung watches as your backside gets smaller and he barely remembers to pull up his bike again.   On the other hand, you’re less awe-struck than he is. You’re just glad you were there at the right time, the right place, able to save a homeless man from meeting his demise.   //   It feels out of place, awkward for you to march up to the resident of the head of state like this, lugging your backpack and suitcase with you. You look more like a student who took a gap year to travel across the country than someone who’s supposed to be here.   You would’ve dropped off your belongings first, rented a place like the responsible adult that you are, but he told you to come here before doing anything else. At the news of you arriving back home, he’s urgently seeking you out and you wonder what could be so important — it could never be because he actually misses you. Such a thing is impossible.   “Hi, are you looking for the tour of the Blue House? Unfortunately, the group just left five minutes ago and this is our last one for today.”   “No, I...uh...actually...” You dig into your jeans back pocket for the lanyard. It’s old, but still visible and you flash the security badge. “I’m looking for the head of the secret service. Is he around?”   The room that you’re brought into is spacious and luxurious, golden furnishings that remind you of being inside a castle. The windows are large, looking to a garden, but here at the back of the house, it’s secluded. Your suitcase has been taken and you’ve been searched before stepping in here. You muse that he’s taken quite the promotion since you’ve last seen him. He seems to have some kind of status or importance.   After a moment of gandering, the double doors open.   You stand, coming face to face with an old man standing tall and proud. “How was the flight?”   The doors close behind him. “It was good. Are you off work?”   “I’m always working.”   His hands are behind his back, putting a meter distance away from you. It’s been years, but there’s never a hug spared, not even a smile or polite handshake that would be offered in greeting a stranger. No one would know that he’s your family, that this old man’s your father.   “There’s a reason you wanted me to come here right away.”   “Yes. Take a seat.”   ….   Taehyung tracks mud into the house.   He’s about to hear an earful from someone, maybe his dad or his stepmom, but he doesn’t want to hear it and he won’t wait around to be caught for that to happen. He walks quickly despite feeling eyes pinned to the back of his head. It’s suffocating here, though no one dares to say anything about his troublemaking antics.   The boy has his hands in his pockets, strolling down the hallway towards the kitchen to raid some free food. But as he turns the corner, someone comes towards him from the other end of the corridor.    The tables have turned. Now he’s the one who notices you first.   “Y/N?”   He knew he’d see you again. But maybe not so soon.   “Oh, you.” Your feet halt and you look at him with a frown. “What are you doing here? Are you allowed to be here?”   “I should be asking you that.” He laughs, wholly relaxed unlike earlier.   You don’t know how he got here...until the realization dawns on you.   He’s the person that your father talked about, the reason why he wanted to see you in the first place. This homeless man isn’t homeless at all. And as you look into his eyes, the way they’re a warm brown shade reminding you of dark caramel, childlike and mischievous, you realize truly nothing has altered in the course of nine years. He’s taller, shoulders broad, face lost its baby fat and more sculpted. He’s less like an aggravating rascal, but the rest is the same.   It’s Kim Taehyung.   “You remember, right?” He comes closer, taking a slick step towards you, leaning down to connect his eyes with yours at the same height. He’s flirtatious — that’s different and foreign.   “Pardon me, I’m sorry, remember what?”   The man with the blonde strands flopping over his eyes blinks and his strong brows furrow in concern. “You...don’t remember?”   “Did we know each other?”   He scoffs, leaning back onto one foot and crossing his arms. “Did we know each other,” he mimics in a mocking tone. But when you give no response, his lips fall into a straight line, gaze morphing into something grievous and serious. “You can’t recall?”   “I’m sorry….” You shake your head. “Is there something I should know, Mr. Kim?”   “Mr. Kim?” he murmurs in exasperation and steps forward again as if to corner you. Taehyung refuses to give up. He insists on jogging your memory again. “We used to dig holes in the ground to get to the other side of the world and I flung dirt at you, remember? I glued your seat and stuck tape in your hair and put salt in your water and replaced your whip cream with dad’s shaving cream. And you never cried once. Remember, dumbo?”   The name makes a muscle in your cheek twitch.   Taehyung wears the biggest shit eating grin, smile spread into his cheeks, not letting it go. Your expression remains impassive as the memories come back. But they were always here. The moment your dad said his name aloud, you already knew. And you’re wholly unimpressed.   Without thinking twice, you walk forward, not allowing him to block your way. Your shoulder shoves against his, but your strength isn’t calculated and he’s pushed to the other side of the hallway, caught off guard. He smacks against the wall, wheezing as the lungs get knocked out of his body. You mumble an apology, lingering for a second.   Trying to play dumb didn’t work. Maybe someone out there could actually get away with not being able to recall their memories, but for you it unfortunately doesn't work like that.   It’s not like you’re traumatized or damaged over the memories. Just slightly annoyed. He’s always been that little fruit fly buzzing around your head near your ear that you couldn’t get rid of.   “I remember.”   Taehyung bullied you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, dumbo, are you listening?”   You turn your head with dead eyes. The seven year old has rounded cheeks pinched red, cute eyes and a playful smile. But he’s not a cherub. He’s a demon in disguise. “You’re annoying.”   “Well you’re ugly,” he bites back with his tongue sticking out.   You walk away but he follows after you diligently like a dog — too bad he’s not as cute. You would’ve preferred a dog. “Where do you think you’re going, huh, dumbo? I’m talking to you! You’re no fun. You’re boring. Boring. Booooring. Boooooooooring.”   At eight, you’re taller than he is. But unlike what your dad’s taught you, Taehyung has no regards for age at all. He’s not respectful. He doesn’t stay quiet. He’s not well-mannered. He’s a troublemaker. What others have called ‘a punk’.   You continue, only to be forced to a stop, colliding with an invisible barrier. Your face is pushed up against the transparent surface and from being caught off guard, the force is enough to topple you off your feet. You fall onto your butt. The floorboards welcome your small body.   Taehyung laughs his head off.   “I can’t believe you actually fell for it!”   He’s chortling, snickering, in absolute hysterics.   You give up, laying on the ground with your arms to your side, staring at the ceiling lifelessly before your eyes flicker to him, watching him have his fun.    The doorway remains stretched with plastic wrap. 

[knightingale-xiv]

Nightingale's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Day 5

Kaja was worried...Chip hadn't come back to the barracks after visiting Tongo, and the morning inspection was about to occur. If Chip wasn't in his bunk, then the guards would get suspicious and start asking questions and digging around. She and one of her resistance contacts had smuggled a few weapons out of the storage facilities and stored them in a hollowed out section near Chip's bunk...If the guards searched there, they were doomed.

She kept staring at the window in the hopes that the white haired boy would just appear out of thin air with that dopey grin and a sheepish apology for scaring her...but he never showed up. There was shouting from outside and everyone took their positions, ready for the morning drill. It was the roegadyn, Falling Timbers, again...the large Hellsguard soldier walked in with a toothy grin and a pep in his step...that couldn't be good.

"Alright, you savages!" He called in his usual greeting. "Time for your inspection! We're going to be extra thorough today, so if anyone wants to step forward and speak up, please...do so!" He began slowly marching forward, looking at each individual prisoner. Kaja exchanged a wary glance with the people she and Chip had recruited. Each one stared back, trying not to sweat. No one spoke.

"Well, seems everyone is awful somber and stoic this morning...Guess we'll just have to have a look-see..." Timbers snapped his fingers and his men surged forward, tossing matresses and ripping apart the barracks. To their credit, everyone acted the usual level of scared and nervous as they always did. Trained resistance operatives as some of them were, they knew better than to under or over act.

The Roegadyn seemed to be making a straight shot toward Kaja and Chip's bunk bed, grinning all the while. Kaja understood suddenly, with horror...They had captured him...it was over...

Falling Timbers marched up to Kaja and tilted his head. "Bunkmate leave early for his shift, rabbit?" He asked, although his tone made it obvious he was being rhetorical. "Guess you won't mind if we peep around then, eh?" He motioned for her to step aside. She balled her fists and furrowed her brow. She wasn't going to give up without a fight...

"Get your mitts off my stuff, you Garlean dog!" An angry voice shouted from down the line. Kaja looked in surprise...one of their men. A highlander swung his meaty fist directly into the jaw of the guard searching his gear before making eye contact with Kaja. There was a very subtle nod from him before the others converged on him and took him to the ground.

The Roegadyn guard grinned and diverted, smelling new blood in the water. He walked up as his guards beat and shocked the Highlander with their batons. Timbers waited for a moment before waving them off.

"Ahhh, finally...a troublemaker. Django, you've already had your first strike isn't that right? Guess it'll be to the cages with you..." he chuckled, motioning for the guards to haul the beaten Highlander up. "Let them be an example to you all..." Timbers murmured with gleeful menace, before exiting with his prey in tow.

Kaja exhaled a shakey breath...them...He said 'them'. Chip wasn't dead yet, they had a chance still. The warden would make it a public affair if he had found out who Chip was, and the fact that the boy wasn't back HERE meant he was being held despite having no strikes...She would retrace his steps and figure out what she could. They were doing this...

Kaja left to do her shift, focusing less on her work than she usually did as she wiled the hours away until lunch. She needed to speak with Tongo. If Chip had made it, she would be able to get through to the bangaa. She was getting ready to pack up before a frazzled looking hyur grabbed her sleeve and got her attention.

He had ratty black hair and patchy facial hair, but she recognized him sort of...He had been caught sneaking out once to see his wife in the barracks, and had been given a strike. He looked...guilty. That worried Kaja...

"Kaja..." he murmured. "Are you Kaja?" He asked quickly, eyes flitting about like a mouse expecting a hawk.

"I am..." she replied cautiously.

"Your friend, Chip, sent me with a message...he said that if he did not kake it back to you, then they had taken him. He asked you to make sure everything was ready and wait for his signal..." the hyur stammered. Kaja exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. Had he planned on being caught?

"How did he get taken?" She asked sharply, sending an accusing glance at the man as she opened her amber eyes. He gulped and took a step back.

"I-I got caught out after curfew...he...he saved me from the guards, by pretending to be me...and I saw the Roegadyn dragging him away shortly after he ran..." the man explained. Great...just great...no wonder Timbers was so smug this morning. Curse that boy and his heroism...still, she found it endearing if not reckless...She dismissed the man and left to find Tongo at lunch time.

The large bangaa was only allowed one meal a week, so she knew to find him at his personal cell. She ran quietly around to the back and grabbed the bars. Immediately a giant hand covered hers and pinned her in place.

"Who are you..." the beast of a bangaa asked in a slow growl.

"A friend of Chip's...He has been captured. I needed to know of he spoke with you!" Kaja hissed in a panicked rush. She didn't want to lose her hands...

To her genuine surprise, Tongo looked shocked and...worried. "Chip...taken?" He asked quietly. Kaja nodded and he released her, moving to his door. He banged on it, sending the metal door flying open and began to march out. "Rescue..." Tongo growled as he stalked forward. Kaja quickly cut him off, placing her hands on the bangaa's abdomen and bracing. It did no good as she simply slid backwards as Tongo effortlessly moved forward, like she wasn't even there.

"No, Tongo!" Kaja insisted. "He said to wait for the signal! But I need your help to be ready for that!" She tried her best to stop him, and finally he slowed to a halt...she doubted it was because of her brawn though. The bangaa looked down at her and huffed.

"What do you need me for..." his voice rolled out in resignation, like slightly depressed thunder.

"The other bangaa...you and I need to recruit them for the fight..." Kaja explained, running Tongo through their plans. The gentle giant nodded in understanding.

"Come...We speak with them both now..." Then he lumbered off towards where the bangaa would be after lunch. Maccar and Ba'karn were sitting on opposite ends of a large sandy square, staring each other down. Their seperate groups, equal in size, were likewise doing the same. It was an ever going cold war, as neither Bangaa wished to make an overt move on the other yet...

Ba'karn wanted to unite his kin and prepare for the inevitable war and glorious deaths that came with fighting Garlemald...Maccar wanted to rule the whole camp with an iron fist...Neither of them expected a lithe viera to stroll into the center of their arena.

Maccar and Ba'karn stood, staring at the wokan before she spoke. "Bangaa leaders, might i bend your ears for a spell?" She beckoned them forward with a finger. They, in confusion, obliged and approached her. "It is time for us all to leave this prison...A young man has come with hopes of saving us all...I think perhaps he can...but to do so, we will need your help. I have come to convince you by any means necessary." Kaja smiled.

Maccar balked. "You come into our home alone and demand we follow a HYUR into battle? Are you a mad woman?" He snarled.

"For once I agree with my rival..." Ba'karn said, his voice level and measured. He was ever the commander. Rumor was he served in the Dalmascan military as a fusilier before the fall. "I am willing to fight for my freedom, but not with an untested stranger." He mused. "I must test his might and convictions. Either he must show me his own power, or he must show me the power he weilds over others." The elder bangaa crossed his arms.

Kaja nodded and smiled, taking a step back. "That is what I shall do then. In his stead, you will face his champion." She bowed low.

Maccar and Ba'karn shared a look before bellowing out in laughter. "You!?" They said together. What could a single Viera do against the two second most powerful bangaa here!?

Their laughs fell short as a thunderous impact sounded behind them and something covered them in shadow. The two leaders slowly turned as a goliath of darkness rose behind them, a flare of pure destruction in its eyes.

"No..." it let out a rumbling growl. "Meeee...." Tongo tensed his muscles, causing them to bulge dangerously and forced the two bangaa to stagger backwards in fear.

"I serve the Nightingale...I serve the desert guardian...hear his name and tremble, for my leader is none other than...Chip..." Tongo's bassy growl shook the crowd to the core. Kaja was fairly certain that was the only time Chip's name ever inspired such awe and fear...she understood why he went by Arthur here.

Maccar and Ba'karn wisely conceded any duels and decided it would be in their best interest to ally wkth each other and with this evidently mighty Nightingale. With that settled Tongo went back to his cell to await further instructions, as did the bangaa warriors to their own barracks. Kaja went back to finish her shift and returned home for the night...she couldn't sleep though...

She was terrified for Chip...she hoped he could get out of this in the long run...Things were rapidly falling into place here. Django would have to hold out in the cages until Chip began the battle...Chip Wayman, Arthur D'ehcan, or the Nightingale...now more than ever she hoped he was the hero he claimed to be...

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Final Day

[dat-town]

if there’s a gun, it must be fired

Characters: detective!Taehyung & You

Setting: gang au

Genre: angst

Summary: Russian roulette is a game of fate. Yet, you decide to defy its will.

Warnings: character death, they’re literally playing russian roulette (I blame Chekhov and this: "One must never place a loaded rifle on the stage if it isn't going to go off. It's wrong to make promises you don't mean to keep.")

Words: 3.3k

Network Bangtan Bingo ▶ square: police/detectives

You had a revolver held to your temple, the cold metal of the muzzle digging into your soft skin, fingers trembling on the handle. Three pairs of eyes watched you intently, waiting breathlessly for you to apply pressure on the trigger. No matter how much you prided yourself in being a strong and independent woman, in that moment you were in need of comfort and just as you found those warm, caramel brown eyes in the dimly lit room, they threw you back on the memory lane, to where it all went wrong...

“You really need to stop getting arrested,” Taehyung sighed as he looked over you, slim line of brows furrowed, drawing crinkles onto his forehead under his light brown hairline.

You huffed, rolling your eyes loudly at his remark and leaned back onto the armchair of his office. For a moment you considered throwing your legs on his pretty desk plastered full with organized sheets of papers but maybe that would have been a bit too rude. He paid your bail after all, you didn’t want to fall out of his mercy.

“It wasn’t even my fault. I didn’t do anything,” you protested right away and the young man in front you gave you a look with a challengingly raised brow. So you added with a deep sigh: “Not this time.”

You were a troublemaker, you both knew it. It would have been useless to protest or act otherwise. But yesterday night you just happened to be there when that bar fight broke out, you had nothing to do with it if not that you intended to snatch one of the guy's wallets.

You picked on your nails out of boredom waiting for Mr. Detective to say whatever he wanted because you knew he didn't take you all the way here in his fancy car just to show you the door. Usually, he bid his goodbyes - annoyed with you more often than not - right after you walked out of the police station. Usually right after you cheekily said byes to the officers present and Taehyung wasn't in the mood for your arrogance, so he just grabbed your hand, explained that you were late from some family lunch and got over with it. And yet, usually he didn't seem so tensed like now, so you were waiting for his next move patiently.

He sighed heavily as he slumped down in his armchair burying his face into his hands. He looked stressed, more than usually which was also odd. You had always known him as a collected man, somebody who had the answers for everything all the time, who was annoyingly good at what he did, investigation or whatever.

“I need your help," he muttered and you couldn't believe your ears. Did Kim Taehyung, detective extraordinaire just say he needed the help of a pitiful swindler from the streets? You blinked at him confused but you only see genuineness in his eyes as he looked back up you. "My team’s in trouble.”

The way he said it so seriously scared you because Taehyung had always been protecting you. No matter how many times he called you a brat, rolled his eyes at your silly antics, he would have never put you in danger. Not when it came to real trouble, so it must have been a huge problem if he turned to you.

And yet, you were still bitter. A few years back you had been a nobody but sometimes you missed those times. Because then, freshly out of an orphanage, stealing food from stores, sleeping wherever you could set up a shelter, Taehyung had found you and taken under his wings. He had been another lonely soul, out in the harsh world ever since he ran away from home. He had been mysterious for so long, you'd almost thought he would never let you in. But then he had. He'd told you about his dead sister he had treasured so much and after that, it made so much more sense why he had treated you like his little sister. But he never ever had any idea what his love really meant to you... He hadn't even considered it when he'd decided to leave this wicked life behind and become a detective. Ever since then you only met when you got into jail and called him because he was your only contact.

So it might have been pitiful of you but helping his team sounded like helping those who took him away from you and you didn't like it one bit. Especially if you had to risk your safety for that.

“Just because you turned into the good guy, why would I help you?” you crossed your arms over your chest and stared straight into his mahogany eyes. He stared back at you just as adamant.

“Because you own me.”

And oh boy, was he right! You owned him with your life.

“I hate that you’re right,” you gulped down the bitter taste of defeat and leaning forward you put your elbows on the polished table. “What do you want?”

If Taehyung was surprised that you agreed so quickly, he didn't show. His face was painfully professional, handsome features laced with worry and bags under the eyes from all those sleepless nights. Your heart swelled for him.

“I need intel on the new gang on the eastern side of the town. Places they hang out, names, anything,” he placed a folder in front of you full of papers and photographs, suspects and useless proofs. You had heard of these guys calling themselves The Plague, they weren't playing small, they hadn't started with party drugs dealers, oh no, they came with the big blow. You'd heard about murders, diamonds and millions. They had come out of the dark and brought Hell itself.

“I don’t have business with them and I don’t wanna so-” you protested nonchalantly throwing the papers back onto the table but then Taehyung interrupted you.

“Get me inside,” he pleaded determination settled in his eyes and you stopped breathing for a moment.

“You aren’t a field agent but a detective, Taehyung or did you forget?” you reminded him a bit more harshly than you intended. Yes, you did have connections and maybe if you really wanted to you could have got him in contact with the men of that gang. But if there was one thing you hated more than anything then it was Taehyung putting his life on the line.

But there was something deep and dark swimming in his eyes that reminded you of those first times when there had been no ease in any of his movements, when he had watched his surroundings alert all the time, when he had been ready to fight even in his sleep struggling from nightmares. It scared you, the similarity.

“You know why I became a detective?” he asked now, the question loaded just like guns and you bit into your lip close to drawing blood but not quite.

“Because you had enough of hanging with the wrong squad?” you joked bitterly because acting dumb had been your weapon for too long. Truth to tell, you had never known the reason, he had never told you and you had never pried.

Taehyung’s gaze shifted to the photograph of his deceased sister standing on the table. Your throat closed up as you saw his knuckles turn to white, hands curling into fists.

“My sister was kidnapped and police didn’t find her. By the time we hired a detective, it was too late,” he whispered, voice so wrecked you barely recognized it and you had the urge to take his hand, squeeze it and tell him that everything was going to be alright. You did none of these things.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled instead eyes teary as you saw him break down. He shook his head as he looked back at you.

“Don't be. It wasn't your fault. But now it's happening all over again. You know Soora?" he asked just to confirm but of course, you knew everybody who worked in his office. You remembered Soora clearly, the genius girl with psychology degree and killer instincts who had promised to set you up with cute university guys last time you met. You hadn't seen her for a while but you nodded anyway. Taehyung carried on with the story. "She has been taken away by that gang. I don't leave my team members behind. I need a way in."

And you were his pass, you knew it. You had a choice either to actually be it or leave. But when it came to Taehyung, no wasn't an option for you. You asked for some time to think it through but in the end, you gave in.

Fast forward a few weeks of investigation and with your recklessness you ended up here in this storage of the Boss of The Plague. It was where he kept all the kidnapped girls, like you, the bait. However neither you nor Taehyung expected the man to figure out your plan and give you an ultimatum. To sit you both down at a round table with his men aiming guns at you.

"Thought you could outsmart me? In my own goddamn territory? You're either stupid or desperate," he laughed, flashing the gold of his teeth and the scar on his cheek glowed under the unnatural light on the room. He stepped closer to the beaten Taeyung who spit blood on the man's white shirt. He only laughed. "Kim Taehyung. I expected better of you. The infamous rookie detective. Guess you just walked straight into my trap."

There was something in the way he talked, so confident and derogatory as if he ruled the world. So almighty as if he was God himself. In a way he really was and it terrified you. That it was only a word from him, an order and all those guns would have pierced holes into you.

"Where's my co-worker? Soora?" Taehyung gritted his teeth as he struggled with the rope bonds on his waists.

“Wouldn’t you wanna know, huh?” the gang boss laughed freely and sat down on the other side of the small table. He looked from one of you to the other and you didn't like the vicious smile forming on his lips, not at all. “Let’s play a game then. Let’s make it fun."

And by fun, he meant a revolver thrown to the table. Then he placed one single bullet next to it. The silent that followed the action was already killer.

"There are six chambers in this cylinder so that means two rounds. Someone asks a question and the next player has to answer. But before that they will pull the trigger. Look at the bright side: if you die, you don’t have to answer,” he explained the twisted rules of the Russian roulette. You only knew of the lethal game from stories but it terrified you all the same.

“You have a sick mind,” you told him, disgusted but the gang leader looked more honoured than anything else.

“And I take pride in it,” he grinned as if he wasn't betting with his life. He probably got off on adrenaline rush but the possibility of dying didn't excite you. Not that you had anything in life you particularly wait for but you didn't have to be special to not want to leave so soon. You had every right to want to live.

"Do you promise that if we survive this game and we can leave unharmed?" Taehyung made sure he understood the rules right but even looking so calm and composed, you knew he was just as frightened inside as you.

"Of course. Cross my heart and all that shit. Everybody here heard. If you’re lucky enough to live, you get both the girl and the truth, isn’t that good enough?” the Boss asked and you hummed. It was better than what you had expected, you had to give him that.

You got caught red-handed and the man could have killed you easily but no, he decided to play with you like cats play with mice before eating them. You were no more than an entertaining pray to him and you hated to feel so weak and helpless.

"You wanna start with a question?" the nameless man turned to Taehyung clapping zealously. He put the single round inside the cylinder then spin it, keeping it in his hand.

The young detective's voice was jagged when he forced out the question:

"Where is Soora?"

The crazy man pointed to his head with the gun, pulled the trigger without an ounce of hesitation and smirked. He didn't even flinch when he pulled the trigger. He acted like it was only an innocent game for him.

"She's here. Close enough," he replied vaguely and when Taehyung wanted to protest, he clicked his teeth scolding the detective. "Ah-ah-ah, you didn't specify how precise answer you want."

Taehyung huffed, fuming of anger but the Boss ignored his behaviour and turned to you with an affected smile.

"Ladies first," he slid the gun to you over the table. When it hit your hand that was resting on the wooden surface, you flinched lightly, not ready to pick it up. You’d never had real, loaded gun in your hands before but you knew how it worked. A pull, a bang and then blood.

“I see you have been dying to ask something, detective, go on,” the man in charge ordered Taehyung who seemed rather uncomfortable being put on the spot liked that. But you couldn’t help your gaze shift to him, searching for solace in his deep, brown eyes.

He looked back at you nervously nibbling on his lower lip.

“Why… why didn’t you leave when you could have?” he asked and you remembered very well which time he meant by that. It happened just now.

The plan was supposed to be perfect, bulletproof. After weeks of slowly digging your way into the organization, atomizing it from the inside, Taehyung had asked someone to meet the Boss claiming he had something he would be interested in: you. After getting to know the business of sex slaves happening under his roof, the two of you had been sure, with just one piece of evidence, you could have expose the whole gang. But the meeting hadn’t gone as well as you planned. The moment Taehyung had realized that your backup people out there had got busted, he’d told you to get lost, to escape but you didn’t move, not even an inch. You had followed him into the lion den and now you had a gun in your hand.

You wanted to tell him why but you knew the rules. First, pull the trigger then spill the beans.

It was difficult to manoeuvre with your tied-up hands but the Boss didn't care. He had an animalistic glint in his eyes as he watched you lift the weapon to your head.

You gulped and closed your eyes before your finger found the trigger. After taking a deep breath, you only let out a small whine when you pulled it.

Click.

“We don’t leave team members behind, right?” you answered with still closed eyes, maintaining the remains of your dignity, and dropped the gun back on the table with trembling hands.

When you opened your eyes and saw the look in Taehyung’s, he seemed like somebody who just went through Hell and came back. All colours were drained from his face and his chapped lips were stained with his own blood both from the beating he got when the two of you had been dragged into his room and from the way he had been biting on his own lips.

"Your turn," the gang leader pushed the revolver towards Taehyung immediately. The blood in your veins froze as you watched him lift it to his head. You wondered if this was how he felt too. So helpless and scared.

"Okay, I have the perfect question for you: would you kill me if you knew for sure that you could get away with it?" the man asked the detective and you understood the purpose: it was a question of morale, to see that even a man of the law would want vengeance outside of courtrooms if he could.

Taehyung gritted his teeth and when he pulled the trigger, you shut your eyes instinctively. There was no loud ringing in your ears, just his rough, hoarse voice.

"Yeah, I would," Taehyung breathed out still adrenalin high when he shoved the weapon back to the Boss.

The middle-aged criminal seemed absolutely satisfied with his answer and waited patiently for the question to come as he placed the muzzle right on his temple.

"Is Soora alive?" you heard yourself asking as soon as you saw him picking up the revolver. He repeated his earlier process: that knowing glance, the pull on the trigger and the smirk when there was no bang.

"Yes. For now," he answered folding his arms.

Two chambers were left and only one bullet. Either for you or for Taehyung on your right. The Boss looked at you devilish, eyes blazing in triumph because he knew he won. You couldn’t lay a finger on him. You certainly couldn’t so before Taehyung could move, you grabbed and took the revolver from the table. Even if you died, the detective could still put this psychopath into jail and save Soora. You couldn’t have done that, so Taehyung had to live.

“Well sweetheart, I will go easy with this one because it might be the last thing you think of,” the boss just didn’t shut up while you refused to give the gun to the stubborn guy on your right. Taehyung kept telling you to let him have it first but you would have felt like the one pulling the trigger if he ended up dead. The two of you only fell silent when you heard the question directed at you loud and clear. “Do you love him?”

The silence was like a fist in the stomach, it hurt and made you nauseous. You couldn’t look at Taehyung. It didn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t have made it out alive from here, at least not both of you. So you just wanted to get over with it and you pulled the trigger on a whim with clenched teeth, firmly shut eyes but the expected bang didn’t came.

When you shakily pried your eyes open and the first thing you saw was Taehyung’s relieved face. It was ridiculous because he was the next in line and he knew that. What was he so thankful for?

“The answer, sweetheart. Be good girl and don’t lie,” the man on the other end of the table reminded you to answer and he had the audacity to sound amused by your torment.

You didn’t care much because you paid no attention to him. You only looked at Taehyung, the man whom you had longed for ever since he pulled you out of the dirt. He had saved you from yourself more than once and now you failed saving him. Or maybe not.

You looked at him trying to engrave his features in your mind because you knew it was the last time you saw him. Blood dripping from his mouth, open wounds on his cheeks and fear in his eyes, he was still so handsome and you regretted never telling him how you felt.

“Yes, I love him,” you admitted and smiled at him, sad. Apologetic.

By the time Taehyung realized what you were trying to do, it was too late. He couldn’t reach you fast enough. The last thing you saw was the panic in his deep ocean eyes before you pulled the trigger once again.

This time there was a bang.

[thisisthe-way]

Of Mercy and Death - Fee

He hasn’t met her yet. She had been their doctor for close to seven months now, but with one or the other always being on a mission, he hadn’t met her.

The new doctor—Angela Ziegler.

He was careful, that was. Unconventional in his execution of his orders, for sure, but always careful. He didn’t like doctors—anyone who believed they were better than someone else just because of their education. Growing up as he had, he knew not everyone had the opportunities for such an education, but that didn’t make them worthless, unintelligent or useless. So, he was always careful.

So, surely, it was an irritation to him when he returned from his most recent mission with a sprained wrist, caused by his own clumsiness and not anything to do with his mission.

“I don’t need to see her, Jack,” Gabriel said. “Why the hell would I let some know-it-all kid play doctor on me? I’ll heal just fine.”

“Oh, really?” Jack said, and glanced at Ana who was leaning in the hallway wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She pushed herself up and approached Gabriel, and took his arm. She barely bent his wrist, and the Hispanic man yelled and yanked his arm away.

“Mm, yeah, you seem fine,” Ana deadpanned with a small smirk. “She’s very sweet, Gabriel. And good at her job. Just go.”

Gabriel sighed, scratching at his goatee thoughtfully wth his good hand, and then nodded. “Fine. Fine.”

He turned and made his way toward he medical wing of the base. He pulled his hood up over his head, feeling a little foolish for having gotten hurt in such a ridiculous way, and having this be the first time he’d officially meet the new doctor.

The door was open and he knocked on the frame with his good hand before stepping inside. “Hello?”

A young woman, barely eighteen at this point, draped in a lab coat and wearing a pair of black slacks and a blue blouse, turned to see her newest patient. Her blue eyes widened a little to see him—both in surprise that he was theee considering how stubborn the rest had said she was, and also surprised to see him up close for the first time.

Despite her intellect and years of schooling, only three words could describe what she thought when she first saw him: He was hot.

“Mr. Reyes, isn’t it?” She said, pushing a fallen piece of her tied back blonde hair behind her hair.

“Uh Huh,” He said, trying to deny that he thought she was beautiful, too. She was a kid—medical prodigy or not. “Nice to meet you, doc.”

“Ziegler. Angela Ziegler,” she replied, and approached him. Her eyes searched his body, despite how much he had tried to cover up, and smiled a little as she lifted his wrist. “Minor sprain to right wrist. Is this your dominant hand, Mr. Reyes?”

He gave a short nod, clearing his throat at her suddenly standing so near to him. He scratched his cheek and murmured, “You can call me Gabriel.”

Angela turned her eyes upward and smiled a little. “Gabriel, then. Come, sit on that table over there and I’ll wrap it. What’s your pain level?”

“Minimal,” He said, hopping up on the metal table easily, the muscles in his thighs moving a little under his pants. Angela paused, blushing, and coughed, clearing her mind as she picked up a clipboard and started to scribble. After clearing her head, she picked up his wrist again and bent it, causing him to yell.

“Minimal?” She repeated with a small smirk and wrote something on her clipboard. “And how did this happen?” She placed the clipboard down and started to dig through a cabinet for pain reducing topical creams and athletic wrap.

“Um, I was on a mission,” he said. “Intel gathering.”

“Was it twisted by a hostile?” She asked, placing the items down on a table next to where she stood in front of him, picking her clipboard back up.

“Not...exactly.”

Angela tilted her head, curiously.

Gabriel stared at her, eyes hard for a moment, but when she simply smiled at him and refused to break her gaze, he scoffed and looked away. “I dropped one of my guns and...tripped over it getting on board my extraction ship. I caught myself before I landed, but only with one hand—felt it hyperextend.”

Angela giggled, her eyes widening in amusement. “Truly?”

“You’re seriously going to laugh at an injured man?” He asked, and his eyes widened when she started to laugh harder. He blinked when he realized how ridiculous he has suddenly sounded, and his face softened and he started to laugh a little. “Okay, that sounded pathetic.”

“It did, but it was cute,” she said, and then realized what she had actually said and pressed small fingers to her mouth. “I mean...”

Gabriel smirked a little. “Cute? I’ve been called a lot of things, but that has to be a first. I think that word fits you better, doc.”

Angela’s blue eyes grew large and a pink blush painted her pale cheeks. She giggled a little sheepishly and scribbled the last of her notes down, placing the clipboard down. Carefully, she lifted his arm and began to massage some of the ointments into the skin. “So, Gabriel...I’ve been here for a few months now...why are you just now introducing yourself to me?”

“I’m not much for educated people,” he replied.

“You were brought up in Los Angeles,” she said, glancing up into his eyes as she began to wrap the injured wrist. “I suppose that infers your upbringing was without many opportunities?”

“Ding ding,” he joked, and shrugged. “It didn’t help I was a troublemaker as a kid. After my mom got sick, I joined the military—I wanted to get right by her before she passed.” His face fell, and he seemed distant for a moment, and then he gave a short, humorless laugh. “Not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

Angela finished wrapping the wrist and went back into her cabinets to look for a brace. With her back to him, she began to speak. “I was born in Switzerland at the height of the war. My parents always knew I was...gifted. Walked early, talked early—excelled at math and science even in my infancy. I was...away at medical school, when their city was attacked. I was...thirteen.”

She closed the cabinet, brace in hand, and turned back toward him. She smiled a little, but her eyes were wet. “They didn’t make it.”

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, as she slid the brace onto his wrist and secured the Velcro. He inspected it, rolled his shoulder and nodded. “Thanks.”

“It should heal within the week. Just try not to move the wrist too much,” Angela said, gently, and then grinned a little. “I’ll send you my fee.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened and then he chuckled when he saw her grinning playfully. “Can I pay you in a cup of coffee?”

Angela’s eyes widened and she placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t I a little young for you?”

“You’re the one who called me cute, doc.”

Angela laughed. “So I did. I tell you what...this one is on the house but...if you end up in here again, I think we can work something out.” Her eyes danced flirtatiously.

Gabriel stood up and nodded, smirking over his shoulder at him. “Shame I’m so careful on my missions, then. Still...a girl like you could make a man reckless.”

“And to think you were avoiding coming to meet me,” Angela said as she sat down at her desk, smiling at him. “I suppose I’ll see you soon, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grinned wider and shrugged. “I suppose you will.” And he left.

But in the weeks and months to come, he found himself in the medical wing a lot more. And not always because he was hurt. And every time, he brought Angela a cup of coffee—because she was pretty and funny and, well, who was he to not pay her fee in advance, just in case.

[seksipomminpurkaja]

okie dokie, annie/marcus, misfits n joe/mae?

took me a while but here they are

Beauty and the hoe

How differently do they think of each other now compared to when they first met?

Annie was first bit disgusted, bit charmed by Marcus, she had heard of the Coburn man before and so to say he’s quite well known. She was very persistent not to fall for his sweet words and strong presence, and she did succeed, which made her more interesting to Marcus himself. While she looked sweet and innocent she had that much willpower to make him seriously interested. Now Marcus know for sure how strong of a person Annie really is, and Annie has come to know Marcus thoroughly to the point they have nothing to hide from each other, and Marcus feels like he doesn’t deserve to be with her (which he truly doesn’t)

What do their friends/family think of their relationship?

Marcus has no family to speak of, he does have Sarah and David though, they don’t give two shits what Marcus does with his relationships, and they both know if something goes horribly wrong it’s likely his fault anyway. Annie’s sister is very cautious about Marcus because she knows exactly who he is and where he hangs out with his work buddies, she tried to warn her, but she herself is in pretty shady businesses and that word can;t come out. Annie’s parents however welcomed him finally after their girl was born and the new father showed up on their door with their grandchild. Mrs. Valentine’s eyes scan him from head to toes and is not that impressed with him at first.

How do their personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?

Annie is the reserved one who inspects all situations before she acts, Marcus is the outgoing one who tends to act before thinking twice. She is intelligent but keeps to herself and her work as a seamstress, Marcus goes around town causing harm and mild chaos. 

What is their favorite aspect of each other?

There’s something oddly charming the scottish accent and recklessness for Annie, plus he has great physique and is covered in tattoos, she didn’t know she’s into bad boys before. But he is also kind once you rub of the layers of dirt off him. Annie chubby and he loves it, perfect for cuddling. She is also no-nonsense type of girl and very stubborn, proved a little challenge for him and he loved it, she clearly has her own mind and personality and stuck out from the rest of the London women.

Do either of them have pet peeves about each other?

Marcus tends to hide some unimportant stuff from her even though they have a deal to talk about everything, he also doesn’t talk about his work for obvious reasons and while Annie knows hat he’s doing, she never gets the details. For Marcus there’s nothing wrong with Annie, maybe that she wears her hair on a braid but he’d love to see her show off her locks more often

How would each reconcile with each other after a fight?

It’s always Marcus who comes to her first, she is that unyielding, they talk things through, there is no other way for them, and lucky for Marcus Annie is forgiving and loving, and still trusts Marcus to love her back

What would be their ideal vacation getaway together?

Maybe Paris, elegant city for and elegant lady and a shaggy scotchman

Think of a new way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time.

They met in a bar where Annie was forced to look for help with people harassing her and her shop. But they could have met in middle of a gunfight where Marcus is chasing down someone and that someone is holding civilians at gunpoint

Fish and the hoe

How differently do they think of each other now compared to when they first met?

Harlei saw him as an adorable nerd with little knowledge of his fame, but alas, he wasn’t that adorable, and damn did he know what he’s capable of, a damn sharp man both mind and teeth, she’s really into him now. I’d guess Ninida was bit put off by Harlei bc who is this albino, why is she doing that thing with her tongue that’s nasty. But now she’s interesting and certain fun to be around and fool around with

What do their friends/family think of their relationship?

Jolanda was delighted, Tzet tried not to sigh out ‘oh bother’ after he recognized who the nedian was. His dad has had dealings with Vim in the past but nothing grand, it was only matter of time who told Jolanda first. Tzet was still happy for her though, first time in years she’s in a somewhat stable relationship. I bet Jens brought out all the bad dad jokes when Ninida brought Harlei to his cabin

How do their personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?

They’re both smart and quick witted, they have reasons why they’re as a successful as they are. Then there’s Ninida with being open about his feelings and Harlei beating them up with a stick, Harlei’s flirtyness and Ninida’s almost prude attitude towards sex. Both good pilots and know their guns, but Ninida can always suggest upgrades to Harlei’s current one

What is their favorite aspect of each other?

She loves the excitement and challenge Ninida provides for her and the more steady pace in her love life, and that he got her to take a look at herself in the mirror and make her realize she might need some end goal in her life. Ninida probably appreciates her experience and thing she could teach to him about relationships that proved an useful edge with Amai later on, the hair is nice to look at and toy with, and she’s a huge child at heart, loving playfights ahead

Do either of them have pet peeves about each other?

The fact that Ninida is always tweaking or thinking about tweaking his guns at any given moment. For Ninida, idk, maybe that she’s always horny

How would each reconcile with each other after a fight?

Both sulking and giving each other the silent treatment before getting to their senses and try to fix it all by themselves, which then leads to them either talking or making it up somehow

What would be their ideal vacation getaway together?

Some exotic planet maybe, unhabited and all wild and dangerous would be for Harlei’s likings, but guess some beach holiday bc Nedians and water

Think of a new way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time.

The was a slight chance they’d end up on opposing ends of a trade deal, adding just that extra bit rivalry between them and Harlei getting more cocky and annoying in his eyes

Cheese puff and buff

How differently do they think of each other now compared to when they first met?

Both were such massive pains in each other’s asses at first, Joe being the party pooper by throwing her out all the time and Maeve being the annoying patron that always causes trouble and needs to be thrown out the second she sets foot in hallway. Now she’s still a troublemaker but she’s his troublemaker. And Joe still has those arm muscles she was drawn into in the first place by the sixth time he threw her out, he still acts all cool and calm but she knows he’s a bit of a lovesick big puppy. And he knows now that the attention she craved in the bar was due to her daddy and mommy issues. They’re both sweet and caring people

What do their friends/family think of their relationship?

The Fujioka’s weren’t so impressed at first bc for one: their daughter never decided to show up in the past and now she has the guts to tell them she’s engaged, to this man, who they know only little about, like honey are you sure. But they’ll have a change of heart once they see how happy she is with him and how happy he is with her, how they’ve already been living together for a while and worked past the long distance issues. Maeve was bit scared but also delighted by the Batbayars, huge and imposing people but so gentle, Joe is clearly their kid.

How do their personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?

Maeve is a fiery personality accompanied with only 160-170 cm or so height, then there’s the quite mellow big dude who could engulf her in mere seconds. Joe is good with guns and has actual training, Maeve has sharp eyes to spot any valuables, and she’s very agile, while Joe is brute force. They’re both in the shape of their lives and make it known to any people with them at the gym

What is their favorite aspect of each other?

Ngl looks were pretty much the first thing that got Meave interested, then came the tattoos and the muscles. After properly getting to know him she loves his humor and well, he has pretty good manners too, but that jaw though, nothing can beat the jaw. Joe loves her freckles and nose and her determination, maybe something else?

Do either of them have pet peeves about each other?

Maybe posting pictures of him and some other gal unknown to her get her pretty irritated, but she keeps it at that, if it’s just a friend or a fan but if they dare to kiss him on the cheek there’s hell to pay. For Joe, maybe her hotheadedness she’s always ready to throw down and someone is about to catch those hands, babe there’s better ways to settle things down

How would each reconcile with each other after a fight?

Both go their separate ways for a while to cool off, (or make up immiediately after the spat is one was clearly in the wrong), and come back with an apology and explanation, maybe a gift if it was “ditching your date after three months of not seeing one another”

What would be their ideal vacation getaway together?

Somewhere with tons of fresh air and outdoor activities, maybe somewhere relatively close too

Think of a new way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time.

Joe’s on a job with Morri, they come across an abandoned building and hear rustling and cluttering from inside and go check it out bc there’s some bandits in the are, turns out, it’s a short red haired scavenger, how did she end up there, no one knows. She does show to be little agitated by them interrupting her diggings though

[our-legacy-rp-blog]

JER has been accepted for the character JACK LONGDALE

Jack is an excellent addition to the roleplay, and we are so excited to see you bring him to life, Jer, your application and writing, as per usual, is brilliant, and we cannot wait to see how Jack will get along with all the rest of our characters. As usual, make sure you fill out the checklist HERE, and welcome back for another round of Our Legacy!

OOC name & pronouns: Jer, they/she Age: 22 Timezone: EST

IC INFORMATION

Character’s name: Jack Longdale FC: Keith Powers Position request: N/A 

Birthday: April 12. As a restless fire sign, Jack is incapable of taking a back seat—he is forever the driver. Active, confident, and dynamic, Jack leads the charge in the search for answers of any kind. The energetic temperament of the Aries leads to challenges. In his rush to be first to everything, Jack throws himself in head first, valuing speed, risk, and immediate results over trial, deliberation, and wisdom. Most attempts to slow him down or tempt him to think well before taking action are met with impatience, aggression, or misdirected anger. Jack doesn’t want to wait; he wants to do. 

Wand: 12”, holly & dragon heartstring.

Patronus: Jack has never had opportunity to attempt to form a corporeal patronus, but with practice he would be capable. His patronus is a manifestation of his tenacious and tireless instinct. It is also revealing; after all, the bloodhound is notoriously willful, difficult to train and make obedient. Like Jack, the bloodhound is on a clear mission—it has a purpose and a job to do, and without regular exercise and pursuit it will become restless and troublesome.

Boggart: Jack’s greatest fear is in the form of a fateful newspaper delivery. In his experience, it is an owl dropping an issue of the Prophet at his feet. Jack has always been able to banish his boggart with little trouble, because he faces a fraction of his greatest fear each and every morning when the Prophet is delivered to the breakfast table. Facing down his boggart has become routine, and he’s learned to recognize it as the small, insidious dread—the scared “what if” and “what now”—that fills him every time he opens a newspaper and looks for his uncle’s name.

Headcanons:

In relation to his Uncle: Jack is what polite people might call an “intense personality,” and his elders and peers mistakenly equate his existence with his uncle’s. Jack struggles with the fact that his personal convictions reflect on his uncle, but most days he tries to keep that in perspective as a minor annoyance. Just because people want to see his uncle in him doesn’t mean Jack is about to compromise on his own principals or play into acceptability politics. Jack is perfectly capable of speaking his mind as loudly as he pleases, and he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. He doesn’t tend to fight with words. He is trying to defend his uncle’s innocence, but with his full-blown anti-establishment beliefs and a reputation for reckless behavior and bad attitude on campus, Jack himself is a black mark against own his uncle. It’s ridiculous, actually— his uncle is the “criminal,” but Jack knows his uncle couldn’t have hurt anyone. In truth, they should all be much, much more worried about Jack. Over the years, Jack has doubted and worried as to whether his family’s (and the world’s) perception of Liam is true, and has been afraid that his uncle played Jack for a fool—now, though? That fear is certainly still there, but it’s slowly being eclipsed by another, darker thought: Jack is afraid that he, personally, would understand even if his uncle did have a part to play in the bloody uprising in London. 

Relationship with his family: The only thing that tempers Jack’s political activism and public outbursts is his concern for the fragility of his immediate (and extended, though mostly, they can all piss off) family. The Longdales endured years of constant surveillance and interrogation even before Jack went to Hogwarts; the terrifying ramifications of being family with a criminal threat to wizarding society have only increased under Lowell’s continued authority. There is always an axe above all their necks; therefore, Jack’s poor behavior at school reflects poorly on all of them. If he were to be an outspoken activist and organize resistance, you can be sure that there would be serious repercussions for his family. Jack is not able to be visibly political without thinking of Anna Longdale’s tired face. This results in endless frustration for Jack: if he doesn’t keep his head down, he makes life hard for the Longdales as a whole, but if he intentionally keeps to the sidelines, he’s restless, more likely to lash out at others and act out in his daily life—in ways that get him labeled as a bad seed and a poor student.

Relationship with his peers: Jack is magnetic. He can’t seem to help it, but neither does he discourage it. People are naturally drawn to his confidence and extreme passion—he has a way of stoking the fire inside others, as well. For all this, Jack’s doesn’t relate easily to his peers. To start with, he finds little in the way of family within his own house. Even before Liam’s transformation, the Longdales were a source of amusement. After six years at Hogwarts, Jack has found little in the way of warmth in Slytherin house; he’s learned that any interaction with a pureblood is a fight waiting to happen. Among his peers he has the reputation of a troublemaker. Jack doesn’t seem to care what others think of him as a person—with poor grades and a fair amount of time spent in detention, Jack has certainly done his part to encourage his reputation—he’s too focused on finding ways to fight greater political realities. Jack is aware of his reputation and has no problem using it when it suits him. Younger years rarely dare to go near him. Students who care in earnest about their education aren’t interesting to him. Jack feels that life is happening elsewhere and that he has outgrown Hogwarts. Those who gravitate towards Jack and those who pique his interest seem to be those who appreciate trouble by association or are looking for trouble themselves. It’s easy to be swept up by his extreme passion and his sense of purpose, but anyone who associates with Jack must always be aware of the possibility that they won’t be able to keep up.

NOW

Jack’s search for his uncle is his ultimate motivation. He may not show much commitment to research and attention to detail in his schoolwork, but he keeps careful track of the going-ons in the larger wizarding world. He scours the news for any clues, but it’s frustrating as hell—since he doesn’t trust either The Quibbler or The Daily Prophet. Jack is perpetually ready to fly into action, and he’s at his best when he’s given a mission to focus him. He’s been sitting on the sidelines for far too long. After the completion of Greywatch and the attack in Falmouth, Jack feels it is about time to stop talking and philosophizing from a safe, academic distance. He’s ready to organize and resist—increasingly, by working outside of the established system rather than inside it. He doesn’t trust the government, and he knows that Lowell’s ascendance to power is not the first failure of magical government. He’s ready to make bold moves—right now, he writes for Draco Dormiens, reads essays about the Goblin Liberation Front, disseminates anonymous political information, and spends a lot of time arguing and planning with Penny. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

In the meantime, because he cannot be open about the depth of his frustrations and beliefs, Jack is full of a growing restlessness that results in frequent outbursts and detentions. These at least take the edge off. They happen less now than in his earlier years at Hogwarts, when he was full of resentment and misdirected anger; Penny has somewhat helped to focus him and assuage him by giving him books and political texts that helped to streamline his anger and define his political stance. Although he recognizes that evolution couldn’t have been possible without education, he still feels privileged and guilty for being at Hogwarts. His apathy and distain towards his formal education is a mix of this guilt and frustration at the overwhelmingly liberal and/or apolitical stances of his educators and peers.

After reading the interview with Zane Blythe that Astoria published last semester, Jack feels it’s time to start digging deeper—maybe reach out to werewolves forced into hiding and offer his support. If he could only manage to find a safe place on the grounds where he could organize his friends—perhaps in the Forbidden Forest? could they come to a fair agreement with the centaurs? —they can really begin the fight from Hogwarts in earnest. All this, of course, will have to happen in secret. Jack doesn’t want his family to be punished for his rebellion.