#as soon as i got to chinatown i was like oh it's going to be racist isn't it. and then it was

[jasmines-library]

Hey!!! I love your writing and I want to request a Batfam where the reader (youngest sister) went into a coma and then wakes up after two months of many complications.

Sorry if the request sounds weird and unclear😅

Wait For You.

Summary: Whilst trying to protect your brother on a patrol, an explosive causes you to fall into a coma. Your brother stick by you through your recovery.

Warnings: Explosives, injury/blood, coma.

Word Count: 2k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Things had gotten bad quickly. You and Tim were supposed to be out on an easy patrol. Gotham was quiet for once, so you and your older brother Tim decided to let your brothers have the night off for once. Oh boy was that a bad idea. You should have taken the unusual silence as a warning, as a huge red flag being waved right in front of your faces, but you were all too naive over the fact that patrol would be easy. But as soon as you had suited up and slipped out of your cave, shit hit the fan.

It started with two perfectly timed robberies on opposite sides of the city. You had to admit that you were slightly suspicious, but it wasn’t anything uncommon for a crime riddled city like Gotham and it was nothing you couldn’t handle, so you split off from your brother and went to deal promptly with the criminals before handing them off to the police to deal with. But then, as you were on the way to meet Tim, things got worse. The entire city lost power. One by one the street lights flickered off and the billboards shut down, plunging the city into complete darkness, besides the full moon that grinned down on the skyscrapers, but provided very little light to the ground.

“Red? You there?” You called out through the coms, hoping that the power outage hadn’t affected your signal. 

There was a moment of gut-wrenching silence before the sound of his voice crackled through the static. The signal was compromised, but not enough so that the two of you couldn’t communicate with the rest of the cave. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Near the Cauldron, making my way towards China Town.”

“Copy. I’ll meet you there, be careful Raven.”

“I’ll try.” You said, making your way through the derelict streets, heading towards the red bunting that hung above ChinaTown as another voice crackled through the coms.

“Patrol, this is Oracle. Can you hear us?”

You hummed. 

“Good. We lost you for a moment when the power went out. What happened?”

“We’re not sure yet. I’m about to rendezvous with Red. We’ll see what we can find.”

“Alright. Stay on the line.”

“Copy.”

You rounded the corner where you saw Tim sprinting towards you. He gripped you tight and checked you over for any injuries. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.” You nodded. “Any idea what happened?”

He shook his head. “No, but it can’t mean anything good. We were separated before this happened so this has definitely been planned. Someone is trying to separate us.”

“Yeah, but who?”

“I don’t know. We need to get looking and send for backup.”

“Oracle,” Tim voiced into his com “We’re gonna need some backup. Something’s definitely happening and we-”

A building to your left exploded, sending sparks of debris all around you with a plume of smoke. 

“Raven run!” Tim yelled as more buildings began to collapse around you, forcing the two of you to run as fast as you could until you reached a small clearing and the sound of the explosions seemed to have stopped. 

You skidded to a halt, trying to catch your breath and soothe the burn in your legs when you saw it. A small red light blinking rapidly just to Tim’s right. But he was facing the other way and there was no way he was going to see it and get out of the way. The light flashed faster and faster as you dove forwards, knocking your brother out of the way with a shout of his name. 

You tackled him out of the way and onto the concrete just before the explosive detonated just inches away from where he was standing. The force of it sent the two of you flying across the asphalt. You let out a small scream that was cut short by the pain that radiated across your body; cuts and blistering burns that had managed to burn their way through parts of your suit before your head collided with the ground and everything went blank. 

Tim hauled himself to his feet, scanning the ash filled sky and limping towards where he had seen your body get flung to. His heart stopped when he saw you laying bloody and unconscious on the ground. 

“Raven!” He cried, picking up his pace and falling just short of your side. Crawling the rest of the way, he gripped your suit, noting the sticky red that seeped slowly into your hair. “No. No. Raven wake up.”

He patted your face urgently, but you did not stir; you lay limp in his arm, your head lolling on the ground as he tried to shake you awake. “No. Not like this, Raven come on!”

He was crying now, his tears leaving little trails where they had washed away all of the soot that had landed on his face. He placed his head to your chest to listen to your shallow breathing before hauling you onto his lap. He was injured too, and the motion hurt him greatly, but he brushed it aside as he clung to you. “Open your eyes Y/N! Please!” He sobbed.

“NO!” He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone lay a gloved hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his chest as his head whipped around. His eyes met the blue of Dicks domino mask. 

“What happened!” He asked, alerted by the sight of your bloody frame lying limp in his brother's arms.

“Another explosion. She-” Tim couldn’t speak. It was like his body had forgotten how to function. 

Dick nodded, grimacing slightly before calling to Jason over his shoulder. “Hood, call B. Get him to send emergency evac and tell him to prepare the medbay. 

He nodded, pailing at the sight of you. 

“Red, you need to let her go.” Dick told Tim.

“No.” He repeated. “No it’s my fault I can’t.”

“Timmy, we need to get her to help and we need to get you checked out too.”

He shook his head, clutching you closer.

“Robin.” 

Damian made his way over, lifting his brother's arms away from you and holding him back as Dick lifted you carefully to rush you back to the cave. 

~

You were still not awake. 

Two months had slowly dragged by and you were still lifeless. You didn’t move; not even a twitch of a hand. You just lay there, your chest rising and falling steadily. If Tim, who refused to leave your side most of the time, could get the image of your fragile body out of his head, he might have thought you were sleeping.

Most of your wounds had healed well and all of your stitches had been removed recently, but your skin was still scarred and littered with a few bandages to cover the nasty burns, but for the most part your body had healed. 

But then there were all of the tubes and the vigilantes honestly weren’t sure what was worse; seeing you covered in bandages, or seeing you hooked up to a network of tubes that were keeping you alive. Your IV rack sat next to your bed. They had moved you there not long after you had been treated. They knew how much you hated being in the hospital and Damian had insisted that they move you. He had even threatened to do it on his own if no one helped. 

Most days, they all took turns to watch over you, anticipating anything. Dreading the worst. Jason was by your side after forcing Tim to finally shower and catch some sleep, telling him that you wouldn’t want him to waste away like he was. But Tim couldn’t help it. Guilt was eating him up from the inside out. It didn’t take long for them to figure out the cause of the explosions. The Joker and Penguin had allegedly teamed up to kill Batman and the vigilantes. It was their plan all along to separate the five of you so that you were easier to take out, so when you and Tim regrouped they changed their plan and resorted to explosives and you had pushed him out of the way because he was too stupid to notice that there was something behind him and now you were unresponsive. His brothers had tried to tell him otherwise, but he was stubborn and spent all of his time sitting next to you. Dick practically had to drag him out of your room to get him to go to sleep. 

Jason was holding one of your hands and awkwardly flicking through a book with the other as he read to you. He tended to do that alot to pass the time and to bring some comfort. He honestly didn’t know if you could hear him or not but he read anyway. 

It was then that you groaned and he dropped the book in a second. Leaning closer to you he could see that you were scrunching your face up slightly, bringing your eyebrows downwards. 

“Little wing?” He whispered gently.

His heart leapt when he felt your fingers twitch ever so slightly under his and for a moment he thought that you were going to open your eyes but you stilled again. However after watching for a moment, Jason leapt out of his chair and ran downstairs to tell your family.

When he reached the cave, he was met by a very upset looking Tim and a frustrated Damian, who was trying to convince his older brother to go back to bed. 

“Why the hell aren’t you with her?!” Tim snapped “You can’t just leave her on her own-”

“She moved.”

~

You could hear voices but you couldn’t see. Everything was dark but you could hear the familiar tones of their voices murmuring across the room. You urged your eyes to open, but they felt like they were glued shut and then taped over. 

“Come on kid. You can do it.” You heard from somewhere.

You fought against yourself, willing for your eyes to open or for your body to move. And then your finger twitched. And then another. 

“Did you see that!?” Damian exclaimed, pointing to your hand.

You then managed to move your head ever so slightly to the left, eliciting many excited gasps as your brothers crowded round, willing for you to wake up. Ever since Jason had seen you first move you had been making quick progress in your recovery. Your body began to respond to their touch or to their voice, but you had never seemingly moved on your own until now. 

“Open your eyes, little wing. You can do it.” Tim. You knew without even seeing him. 

Tim. You realised suddenly. He was okay. 

And then you did it, you finally managed to crack your eyes open slightly only to be assaulted by the light. You blinked as you adjusted to it, the blurring figures in front of you finally coming into focus. 

“There she is.” Dick smiled. 

“Hey y/n/n.” Tim said. You noticed he was holding your hand and rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. 

You moved your mouth to try and speak, but you struggled to form the words. 

“Take your time.” Damian propted gently. 

You tried again, managing to push a hoarse whisper out with a little smile. “Hi.”

The five of your brothers lit up with the biggest smiles that had in forever as they fussed over you, helping to ease you up and to pull you into their embrace. Glad to have their little sister back with them again. 

[urfavslytherclawgirl]

Ticking Bomb

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: A lot of angst, danger, swearing, mention of explosives, explosions, guns, more than one POV, very long imagine.

Summary: Being the one who put the Joker in jail made him never forget you, so when he escaped, he wanted revenge. But Bruce will always save you. No matter what.

Working as an attorney wasn't the nicest and easiest career you could choose to have, but you handled your way through it, and that made you damn good at what you did.

But being good at what you do means working until late at night while your boyfriend is waiting for you at his place so the two of you can have dinner together, and with that when you had the chance to leave, you almost ran out of the door.

You opened the door to the driver's seat of your car and put your purse on the seat next to you, everything was okay until your purse hit something, more like someone, making them laugh like a madman, for no reason.

Your wide eyes looked at the seat next to you, only to find it occupied by none other than the person who made you appear in the news, the one who made your career change completely, the one you helped but in jail, the Joker. He had a gun in his hands, aiming it centimeters from your temple.

"You should see your face, it's almost like you're scared of me...oh right, you are." He laughed and finally pressed the gun to your temple.

"W-what do you want?" Your voice was shaking in fear. You were thinking about how he got out of jail. It didn't appear on the news like it usually did, with them telling you to look out for the maniac and to be careful while on the streets, especially at night.

"Let's take a ride through Gotham, shall we?" You had no idea why he was doing this. Maybe he just chose someone randomly and decided that this person would be his victim of the night.

You nodded your head, making sure to not get him angry, you turned the car engine on and got out of the parking lot next to the building where you worked. "Where do I go?" You asked without thinking, maybe if you do exactly what he wants he might let you live.

"Let's go to...Chinatown, love it there." His plan was inconsistent, he had to think about where he was going. Originally you thought maybe he wanted to get help to go to a certain place but no, he just wants attention. That was the most accurate guess

As you were driving, the gun was still pressed to your temple and your phone rang inside your purse. "Oh, well look at that, let's see who it is." Joker got your phone from inside the purse and looked at the caller's ID.

"Your boyfriend. Answer it, and tell him you're staying 'till late at work, got it, or else, there is gonna be blood in this car, and it won't be mine." Shit, you forgot you were late for dinner. He pressed the 'answer' button and put it on speaker.

"Hey, sweetheart. Where are you? Are you on your way? Alfred misses you, and I do too." It was a little calming to hear your lover's voice, but you soon remembered you had to answer when the gun pressed harder.

"Hi, Bruce. Enduring work, as always. Look, I think I'm not gonna make it to dinner. Please tell Alfred I'm sorry, sorry to you too." Your words were slow, while you thought about the next one. He was Batman, after all, he'd notice your words started with certain letters, letters that spelled HELP. If he didn't, you'll find a way to save yourself. You hoped.

"Oh we--" The call was ended by Joker before Bruce could say anything else, he looked serious, shit, maybe he noticed, before he started laughing again, that stupid and ridiculous laugh of his.

-

The call was quick, too quick for Bruce's liking, his girlfriend had never been like that, hanging up in his face, talking slowly or shortly. On the contrary, when she got stuck at work, she'd spend at least twenty minutes talking to Bruce until one of her partners would call her and she'd have to hang up.

"Alfred, could you get a sheet of paper and a pen?" Bruce said while looking at the dinner table, the empty seat next to him, and then the window, "Certainly, Master Bruce," Alfred answered.

"Will she not be joining us today?" Alfred questioned while placing the paper and the pen on the table. Bruce knew exactly who he was talking about even though he didn't mention her name, there was no other "she", she was the only one.

With a few clicks on his phone, the audio of the call replayed, "Hi, Bruce. Enduring work, as always. Look, I think I'm not gonna make it to dinner. Please tell Alfred I'm sorry, sorry to you too.", Bruce copied that on the sheet of paper, he looked at it once, then twice. Nothing. It sounded weird, but visually and audibly nothing was wrong with it.

"I once read a book about a detective, where he used many tricks to understand a hidden message," Alfred was now looking at the piece of paper. "You can try, changing the order of letters. " Alfred suggested before going back into the kitchen.

How was he going to do that?

-

Chinatown was dark, with only a few people walking through it. "Never mind, let's go to the circus." He said after a twenty-minute drive, the gun wasn't at your temple this time, but at your lower ribs, so no one would see it.

"The only circus I know is out of Gotham." You reminded him, hoping you'd make him change his mind, it was much easier for him to kill you there, or on the highway, who knew?

"Shame." That was all he said, he looked out the window while the gun pressed harder, you took a deep breath and started turning around towards the highway.

After about fourteen minutes on the highway, Joker sighed and the gun pressed on your ribs was released, making your breathing a bit steadier. "Why are you doing this, if you want to kill me just do it already." You questioned him with a lot of conviction, you'd already accepted that fate, getting shot by the Joker.

"You put me in hell, so now I'll put you through on as well." He answered getting something from inside his pocket. Was he talking about you helping your boss with his case, making sure to get him a life sentence? If that was it, he put himself through that.

"I'll make you burn in hell, or get burned by it." As you looked at what was in his hands all the steadying your breathing had made got ruined. A small detonator was in his hands, meaning, there was a bomb somewhere.

"Let me explain my wonderfully made plan, there's a bomb in the car, right? But it won't explode if I press this button, no. It only activates the bomb, but it only explodes when you stop the car, and you will stop, willingly or not. Smart right?" That was it. You were dead already, so maybe you could get on his nerves for the last time.

"But you'll explode with me?" Your eyes were fixed on the road ahead of you, and the laughs started again.

"No, I won't. See you in hell." He pressed the button, unlocked the doors, and jumped out of the car, his laugh could still be heard, and the tears started flowing from your eyes.

That was it.

Maybe, if you hadn't been so hurried about getting to dinner he would've left the car, get bored and all. Or maybe, you shouldn't have denied when you told Bruce he didn't have to pick you up earlier that day.

All those 'What if' scenarios were ruined by your phone buzzing, Bruce.

You picked up, never letting go of the steering wheel.

"B-bruce, please you have to help me!" The sound of what seemed like a motorcycle accelerating could be heard from the other side of the phone call.

"Stop the car and tell me where you are, or else I'll never reach you!" Bruce said, the tears started again.

"I can't. There's a bomb, in the car--" You tried to explain before you were cut off by Bruce. "If you stop it explodes." You hummed in response and kept driving.

You looked at the fuel gauge just to notice it was low, really low. That's why the Joker wanted you to go to many places, so you could waste gasoline and get screwed right now. He truly was a psycho, a fucking good one.

"Are you close to the beach we went to last month? If you are, go there. Trust me, baby." Bruce said before the call ended due to bad connection.

If you made a few turns you could get to a beach Bruce mentioned. The memories of it made you smile through tears. It was one of your many dates of the month and one of the most romantic one.

Your gasoline was near the end when you thankfully made it there, suddenly, the motorcycle appeared with Bruce, or better saying, Batman, in there, while he looked at you with concern in his eyes.

"Look, I want you to drive towards the water okay?!" He shouted due to the loud sound of his motorcycle and your car going fast, you nodded and did that.

"Take your seatbelt off, and step hard on the accelerator!" The dark sky made things harder, but you managed to do what he said.

Bruce got closer to you and opened the door, making you gasp, he looked at you with the 'trust me' eyes and you nodded.

"Jump!" After that, everything was pitch black, your body hit the sand hard, and seconds later you heard an explosion and sounds of water splashing.

As you opened your eyes, strong arms wrapped around you, kissing your head.

"I've got you, baby. I've got you." He'd mumble in your ear.

"It was out of a sudden, I got in the car and Joker was there and... never mind I'll tell you later. Thank you, baby. I love you so so much, I'm so sorry." Your shaking voice said while holding him tighter.

"Don't ever apologize, I promise you I'll get him and lock him up in hell if I have to. Let's go home, come on. I'll make you a warm bath and heat Alfred's food." You hugged his torso and he hugged you back.

"I'll always protect you. I swear it."

[marikosenwrites]

"happy birthday, osamu." - june 19th

a/n: unfortunately no nsfw...also, sorry this came late! i was busy with school, it's almost ending!

all of the agency (not including kunikida) wanted to surprise dazai with a not-so-surprise birthday party. they needed someone to stall him in order to prepare for it. you, his girlfriend, would be the best choice, wouldn't it?

"osamu!" you happily woke him up, although knowing how much he hates being woken up from a good night's sleep. "happy birthday!!"

"bella! oh, yes, it's my birthday today!" he's fairly happy, honestly- being able to spend his birthday with his loved one? for the first time ever? yeah! of course!

"i have a surprise for you- but it's at the end of the day," you smile brightly at the man.

"bella...why can't you tell me now?" he begs, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

you almost fell for it- but knowing dazai, it was mostly just a play to have his way. "nuh-uh," you wag your finger at him, "but let's go out to celebrate your birthday."

"yayy!" his laugh is almost childish, if not just excited. "now i'm happy that you woke me up."

the two of you get ready for the day ahead and leave for the streets of yokohama early. you suggested going to chinatown first for the food and the unique chinese traditions that are performed there, and dazai agrees that you two should go.

"oh, oh, let's go to that restaurant! last time i went with atsushi-kun, and it was delicious!" he mentions the weretiger boy, who's always tortured by the suicidal man.

"oh, how i pity atsushi-kun," you joke. "looks like there's a table already. let's go."

he follows you to the said table and looks at the menu. "ne ne, what's this? french toast? have you heard of it?"

"mhm," you nod as you scan the menu, "it's bread dipped in egg yolk and fried with condensed milk. sometimes, there's peanut butter in the middle." (it's actually one of author-san's favorite dishes!)

"woah...sounds good!" dazai calls over a waiter and orders the french toast and you order an egg sandwich special.

"would you like a drink?" the waiter asks, notebook in hand.

"oh, milk tea please. osamu?" you gesture to the man.

"same with what they're ordering!" he replies. the waiter nods with a content face and leaves, leaving you two alone. "this looks really china-style. where's this based on?"

"i believe it's from some hong kong tea restaurant. it's everywhere!" you exclaim.

"how do you know so much?" you've got dazai fascinated with the facts that are beyond his knowledge. his knowledge belongs on the battlefield, not restaurants. that was your job, to show people which good restaurants to go, and which ones that you should go out of your way to avoid.

"online research exists, you know?" you laugh. "the agency just doesn't make much of it."

"aha." he scratches his head.

the food arrives less than five minutes after ordering. dazai and you finished your breakfast quickly - or should i say brunch - and headed to other shops.

your plan was to bring dazai back to the agency for lunch, and party there for the rest of the day. you had talked with the rest of the members, and they all agreed on it. it didn't matter if everyone got drunk.

soon enough, it was already two in the afternoon and both of you were getting a bit hungry. "osamu," you start, "let's go. the surprise is ready." you had just gotten a call from ranpo saying that the party was ready.

his hand in yours, and you two headed back to the agency's building. before you could go in, you told dazai to close his eyes, checking at least thrice before leading him into the elevator and into the agency's office.

as you told dazai to open his eyes, the agency members shouted,

"happy birthday, dazai!"

dazai looked so happy, he could cry. "bella- is this the surprise?"

"yes! happy birthday, osamu."

and in that moment, he couldn't ask for anything more than to spend his time in the world with his friends.

©marikosenwrites 2023-2024 all rights reserved. please do not repost my work on other platforms, or translate it and repost without credit. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome! <3

[fractualized]

Hoo boy. TMWSL #11 dropped a bomb today. Or a potential bomb? There's still one issue to go.

I'll just get into it.

(big ol' spoilers and SO MANY explosions)

We open with Sewer Rat Joker in the middle of kidnapping several Gothamites.

I'm not sure about that guy on the left, but the lil goon on the right is freaking Albert, the dying kid from the hospital, just… tagging along? I love it.

The janitor is loaded into a van with a few others, and "a few blocks away"…

LA Joker's got a bun now!

That is not Mr. Waffles holding an umbrella to protect the bun from the rain. Waffles is elsewhere on his own special task. At first it's like, aw, I'd like Waffles to be attending to the boss like this. But, uh, we'll learn soon it's actually better that Waffles is otherwise occupied.

Anyway, this Joker has been looking and looking and looking for his counterpart, who's managed to elude capture even while while most of his henchmen have been taken out. And this failure is not looking good on LA Joker, who is very frustrated!

It's so funny that the man they're looking for is nearby in an unmarked van. So maybe the goon who Joker threatened actually deserves it when Joker tells the others to throw him off a bridge. 😬

Joker goes back into the warehouse where Killer Moth is watching TV.

Come on, he's just putting on a show!

Before we find out what Sewer Rat Joker is up to, we cut to Manhunter investigating the van he was using. But he, his crew, and his captives are gone. Ravager is there with information from Jason.

Wait wait wait. Is… Is Jason gone because of the Gotham War thing? Are these supposed to be happening at the same time?? I know Knight Terrors indicated that the events in Batman happen around the same time, but this issue has to take place while Bruce is asleep for two months post Knight Terrors. Right? The goings-on in TMWSL couldn't have been paused for that long. It also doesn't make any goddamn sense, because in Gotham War Selina has supposedly enlisted like 95% of the henchmen, and Jason is acting like he has no clue what's going on with Joker, and nobody is talking about all this Joker-related stuff going on. Like obviously this was never going to end with Jason killing Joker, so I was just assuming Gotham War happens after TMWSL with Jason still on the hunt, but... Good lord, Jason better show up in #12, or I'm going to lose my freakin' mind.

We get a panel showing that Mr. Waffles is watching the two women before we cut to midtown.

Now you think, oh, Sewer Rat Joker is still clothed and not naked, so what's his plan? But then he unleashes a hoard of goons and mid-level rogues on the cops, and you realize this is actually LA Joker, suddenly dressed down in a very similar way to Sewer Rat Joker. I assumed this was for some sort of "Shoot him!" // "No, shoot him!" situation later, but… you'll see.

Hee hee, Moth is using his wings to protect himself from the rain and it looks so cute.

Aw, Joker. :( Don't be so mean to the henchmen. At least it wasn't Waffles.

We don't have to wonder what the purpose of the mess is, because back at the warehouse:

Distraction action! This is not a good issue for henchmen, I gotta tell ya.

Uh… sure, Albert. Good guys.

Also, regarding the newcast, is Joker somewhat diminished "in recent years"?? Joker War wasn't that long ago, even less long ago in-universe, I think. Maybe it just means more rogues are stepping up as larger figures, like Bane and Scarecrow, and I guess Failsafe the angsty robot since if that happened before Knight Terrors, then he's a known quantity here.

Meanwhile, the reportedly naked Joker is not so naked.

I'll never not enjoy confused conversations.

Killer Moth gets a report that the warehouse is radio silent, and that someone spotted the imposter in Chinatown at a hardware store. And then…

See, if Mr. Waffles had been hanging with Joker, he might be dead! For real this time!

This shit is why most henchmen must work with Joker because of obsessive reasons, not for money.

Joker and Moth's amazing escape is not very triumphant.

As they hurtle to the ground, we check back in with Manhunter at the warehouse.

Sewer Rat Joker has also done a costume change! Presumably it's part of him retaking his place as the Rightful Joker. So if there's not going to be outfit confusion, I suppose the other Joker just changed for… comfort?

But there is still confusion for Manhunter, who refers to events in Los Angeles, but if course this Joker says he hasn't been there in a long time.

Albert's parents really should have explained to him who the Joker is.

So LA Joker has forced Killer Moth to walk with him to Chinatown to pick up on the imposter's trail, and they meet up with their remaining henchmen. "Remaining" because of all the ones that died at the train wreck, and some other casualties. They also give Joker the bad news that, like Clayface, basically all the villains that were helping him (Zsasz, Firefly, KGBeast, etc) took off because of how badly this search is going. But Joker will press on! He orders the henchmen into the hardware store to get the imposter.

At least we're all having fun heading toward the finale!

Back at the warehouse standoff, Manhunter has a realization.

Joker has definitely murdered pizza boys. Also, aw, he misses Jason. :( Sadly, Jason isn't who shows up to Manhunter's rescue.

Seriously, if Gotham War is the reason Jason isn't here, and he's not present to close this title out, I'm going to be so annoyed. No shade on Ravager and Manhunter, but we started with Jason. This should finish with Jason. Jason helping Selina for nonsensical reasons is a terrible reason for him to not be here hunting the guy he's been obsessed with for 10 issues.

Sigh. Anyway, Joker sics some poor toxin'd doppelgangers on the women before he escapes with Albert.

Buzzing? THAT'S THE SECRET WORD!

Alright, because of the spy adventure, Mr. Waffles cut it a little close this time, but look at the bright side. Now he meets up with the real deal at last!

Ooh, more hints of the real story, as Waffles lore, heck yeah. The henchman was Mr. Waffles' buddy? Was it just like the "flashback" in the last issue, or different?

Wait, what? WHAT? WHAAAAAAAAAAAOkay okay okay okay. That's a big dang reveal, but there's still one issue left. Can't let the instinct to trust our beloved Mr. Waffles toss aside the options for the final issue:

1) This is all true. Sewer Rat Joker has actually been the imposter all the long, despite his elaborate dream with Batman making that seem silly. EXCEPT. John Keyser not knowing that Batman is Bruce Wayne would be an explanation for why he treated them as two separate people in the dream. Even though there was still an obvious link by putting Bruce in the TKJ outfit and having him behave erratically. Regardless, maybe Keyser really is that deep in. (Though if Joker used the brainwashing technology revealed in Task Force X, I think Keyser would know about Bruce Wayne, putting the explanation back at Weird Dream Thing.)

2) Waffles is straight-up lying to save his own life from a pissed off boss. The reason he's so buddy-buddy with LA Joker is because they were buddies before the transformation.

3) Waffles is being truthful, except something happened during the creation of the second Joker that caused John and Joker to switch places, and Waffles just doesn't realize it.

And I'm hoping #2 or #3 is correct. LA Joker had some fun moments (particularly his relationship with Waffles), but I'm definitely more attached to the underdog, the Joker who had that great nightmare and whose inner thoughts we've been privy to. I wasn't at all expecting Joker to have drastic character development or a heel-face turn or the like, but if it turns out that all those vulnerable moments treating Joker as a three-dimensional character instead of a flat, only-evil-and-nothing-but villain are not about him but some delusional henchman… Hrm. HRM. I know it's gonna bug me. It's gonna bug me a lot.

Whatever happens, I'm just hoping Rosenberg sticks the landing.

Oh, and as a side note, unless there was another henchman involved in this mysterious gas experiment, none of this appears to explain who the Joker appearing in Batman Inc was. Theoretically that could've been LA Joker having some fun on the side when he was away, but there's been nothing in the text saying so. I'm getting the strong feeling that, with how unconcerned DC has been with establishing a clear timeline for their intersecting titles, we're never going to get an answer. Or they'll somehow blame the damn omniverse.

[parasiticjustice]

[RGG Online Translation] Character Story · Tianyou Zhao

Summary: A few years after taking over the Liumang, Zhao discovers that one of his old friends is planning a coup. A manhunt ensues, and Zhao has to use all his smarts to hunt down the instigator. Featured Characters: Tianyou Zhao Spoilers?: Nope, this is set before Yakuza: Like A Dragon and contains no spoilers for the series.  

On this episode, Zhao is a constant little shit and I’m here for it.

Admittedly this whole story feels like a rehash of his Drink Link, just with a generic in place of you-know-who, but it was still a fun read.

Usual Disclaimer: I'm coming at this with little more than crude Japanese knowledge, a machine translation cocktail, and an insatiable desire for more RGG content. This will by no means be a decent translation, but it should at least be serviceable.

------------------ CHAPTER #1 ------------------

Scene #1: Yokohama · Qing Jin

Narration: Yokohama · A trio of forces, known as the “Ijin Three”, control the town of Isezaki Ijincho from behind the scenes. This story takes place a few years after one of them, the Yokohama Liumang, had their leader replaced by Tianyou Zhao...

Zhao’s Aide: ...Sir, regarding Chen.

Zhao: Which Chen is this Chen?

Zhao’s Aide: Chen Yangming.

Zhao: [surprised] Hmm? What’s wrong with him? He get a stomach ache?

Zhao’s Aide: This is serious. For a long time, he’s been suspected of treason.

Zhao: [neutral] ...

Zhao’s Aide: He’s been acting particularly suspicious lately, so I sent out one of our spies to find out what he’s up to. As a result, we found out that they’re planning a coup with some other men from our group.

Zhao: [smirk] You sure about that? Chen wouldn’t have the guts.

Zhao’s Aide: No, it’s reliable intel.

Zhao: [neutral] Hmm...

Zhao’s Aide: ...Normally, we would nip it in the bud as soon as we discovered it. No-one else even bothered to report it. But... you and Chen go way back.

Zhao: So it’s come to this, old friend...? This isn’t good.

Zhao’s Aide: Their plan will take place tomorrow night. Please be careful.

Zhao: [smirk] ...Got it. Keep working hard.

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

Scene #2: Yokohama · Jinhua Restaurant

Chen Yangming: ...

Zhao: Yo, Chen. Is the beef ramen good?

Chen Yangming: Zhao...!

Zhao: You still love this place, eh? Yeah, the stir-fried water spinach is delicious. Goes great with some garlic. Oh, but you stopped eating it about two years ago. Got tired of it? Or is it for the sake of a girl~? [smirk] How is Lang Lang, by the way? She’s two years old now, right? You still keeping her an indoor cat?

Chen Yangming: ...I know you’ve been keeping tabs on me. Why don’t you just cut to the chase?

Zhao: Oh? Let’s do that, then. It looks like the old-timers have noticed your plan.

Chen Yangming: ...That’s what I thought.

Zhao: I know the raid’s happening tomorrow night. Wouldn’t it be safer for you to put down your arms now?

Chen Yangming: Your father was a cruel and harsh leader, but he was passionate about protecting our people. But what about you? You’re not fit to protect Yokohama... How could I accept you as his replacement?

Zhao: So you decided on a coup? You’ve always been too extreme.

Chen Yangming: ...Thank you for the food. I’ll leave the bill to you, Leader.

[he leaves]

Zhao: [frowns] ...Haaaah.

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

Scene #3: Yokohama · Chinatown

Narration: The next night...

Liumang Member: Chen’s heading your way! Don’t let him get away!

Chen Yangming: Dammit...!

Zhao: Don’t move.

Chen Yangming: Zhao...!

Zhao: I did warn you. What are you gonna do now?

Chen Yangming: Shut up... At least I can get rid of you here!

[Battle]

Zhao: [smirk] What’s wrong, Chen? You haven’t hit me once.

Chen Yangming: Shit... he keeps dodging around...

Zhao’s Aide: Stop! Chen!

Chen Yangming: ...Tch!

[he runs off]

Zhao: [surprised] Oops... he got away.

[Liumang members appear]

Zhao’s Aide: You guys go after Chen! Don’t let him get away!

[Everyone but Zhao and his aide run off]

Zhao’s Aide: Are you alright?

Zhao: [smirk] I’m good.

Zhao’s Aide: We let him slip away, but we’re mobilizing all of our men.

Zhao: Alright. Seal the entrances and exits to the city. The sewers, the river, anywhere you can get out of town. He’ll be like a rat in a maze.

Zhao’s Aide: Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.

Zhao: [smile] Guess now it’s my turn to play the part of backstabber.

------------------ CHAPTER #2 ------------------

Scene #4: Yokohama · Apartment

Liumang Man A: Hey, was that Chen bastard in there?

Liumang Man B: Nah, it was empty. Seems like he came back once and then bolted.

Liumang Man A: I see... The city’s locked down to the sewers, so Chen’s no better than a trapped rat. He’ll be hiding somewhere. You guys stay here, and when Chen comes back, grab him and kill him! No mercy for traitors!

Liumang Man B: Yes sir!

[Liumang Man A leaves]

Liumang Man B: ...We don’t need a lookout. There’s no way Chen is gonna come back here again.

Liumang Man C: Right? Still, Chen’s really done it this time. A coup d'etat is no joke.

Liumang Man B: If he gets caught, he’s manju filling for sure. Well, I can see why he doesn’t agree with the leader’s inheritance.

Zhao: Yeah, sorry about being an heir apparent. It’s not a reasonable system, is it?

Liumang Man B: L-Leader?! I’m, I’m sorry! I was just...

Zhao: Hey, it’s fine. Just be careful to watch your back when you’re complaining... This is Chen’s room, isn’t it? Did you check everything inside?

Liumang Man B: Y-Yeah. We didn’t find anything that’d tell us where he ran off to.

Zhao: Hmm... alright. You see a cat in there?

Liumang Man B: A-a cat? No, I didn’t...

Zhao: [smirk] So he took his darling cat with him then... Or?... I see. Sorry for disturbing you. Keep watching and do your best~.

[he leaves]

Liumang Man B: ...I’m glad I wasn’t used for manju filling...

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

Scene #5: Yokohama · Apartment

[a doorbell rings]

Stern Man: ...Yeah? Who is it?

Zhao: [smirk] Hey, Wang. I’m gonna inconvenience you for a moment~. Wooow, this is a nice apartment. Does it allow pets?

Liumang Man Wang: Oh... leader...?!

Zhao: You don’t have to call me that~. You’re one of the ones who disagreed with me taking over, aren’t you?

Liumang Man Wang: No, that’s not...

Zhao: You don’t have to hide it. I didn’t come here to grill you about that. [smirk] I’m just looking for Chen’s cat... Lang Lang, are you here~?

[cat meow]

Liumang Man Wang: ?!

Zhao: Oh, there she is~. It looked like Chen took the cat and ran, so I’ve been going around the homes of people who oppose my inheritance and have pet-friendly properties. So Wang... this is Chen’s cat, right?

Liumang Man Wang: No... it’s not. This is my cat. Here, come on Lang.

Zhao: ...Heeh, is that so? It sure does look a lot like Chen’s cat. How often do you get a pure white Persian with heterochromia?

Liumang Man Wang: ...I saw Lang Lang and wanted a cat just like her. I even gave her the same name.

Zhao: Heeeh... Ah, but that black patch of fur on her tail looks a lot like Lang Lang’s too. Let me just check that.

Liumang Man Wang: No, you don’t need to do that. It’s true that she has a black patch, just like Chen’s cat.

Zhao: ...Wow, what a coincidence. But she doesn’t actually have that sort of fur growing there, does she?

Liumang Man Wang: What?!

Zhao: I was lying just now. Lang Lang doesn’t have black fur on her tail. [smirk] Come on, Wang~. Don’t fall for such a common bluff.

Liumang Man Wang: Guh... uh... waaaah!

Zhao: [neutral] Oh, I won’t let you get away. There’s still a lot I need to ask you.

Liumang Man Wang: G-Get out of the way! You’re gonna kill me anyway...! I’ll kill you first and escaaaaape!!

[Battle]

Liumang Man Wang: Tch... How did this privileged upstart...

Zhao: [frown] Hey, that hurts. I’ve never lost a fight in my life, you know. [neutral] Anyway, now that the persuasion is over... let’s talk~. Where’s Chen? If he’s trying to run away, then he’s probably not hiding in this apartment.

Liumang Man Wang: I-I don’t know, man... Chen just told me to bring his cat to him if he managed to escape. That’s all...

Zhao: [scowl] ...You just found out that you can’t lie to me.

Liumang Man Wang: I-I’m not lying!! He really didn’t tell me anything! Please believe me!

Zhao: ...Okay then, I believe you~. You can’t afford to lie, after all. But I’ll take a look around your apartment, just in case.

[screen goes black, then returns]

Zhao: ...There’s no hidden rooms, or any sign of another person. Guess he wasn’t here after all... Well, if he was hiding in the home of someone who opposed my succession, it’d be like asking me to find him. If that’s the case, I’m certain that he left the cat here and then went to hide somewhere else.

Liumang Man Wang: Y-Yes... He said he couldn’t take Lang Lang with him, so... he told me to take good care of her. Chen knew I used to have a cat that I loved a lot, so he could trust me...

Zhao: ...Hey Wang, what are some things cats don’t like?

Liumang Man Wang: Something cats don’t like...? There’s a lot of stuff. Hot things... the sound of vacuum cleaners... Water... Some of them don’t like pungent smells. It varies from cat to cat, though.

Zhao: Pungent smells, eh?

[flashback]

Zhao: Yo, Chen. Is the beef ramen good? Yeah, the stir-fried water spinach is delicious. Goes great with some garlic. Oh, but you stopped eating it about two years ago. Got tired of it? Or is it for the sake of a girl~?

Chen Yangming: ...

Zhao: How is Lang Lang, by the way? She’s two years old now, right? You still keeping her an indoor cat?

[flashback ends]

Zhao: [smirk] I think I’ve figured it out~. Chen’s whereabouts.

Liumang Man Wang: What...?

------------------ CHAPTER #3 ------------------

Scene #6: Yokohama · Jinhua Restaurant

Zhao: One adult, please~.

Chinese Restaurant Owner: ...Please take a seat over there. Here’s your water. Once you’ve decided on your order...

Zhao: Do you remember me, pops? I was with a regular the other day, guy called Chen.

Chinese Restaurant Owner: ...Oh, you know Chen? I don’t know why, but he hasn’t been coming lately. I’ve missed his company.

Zhao: That’s right~. Chen’s a regular here, and he’s a friend of yours too, right?

Chinese Restaurant Owner: ...I wouldn’t call us friends. We just went fishing together sometimes.

Zhao: Hmmm... It’s awfully kind of you to shelter Chen from the Liumang, even though you’re not close friends.

Chinese Restaurant Owner: What? Hey, where are you going?!

Zhao: [smirk] ...Just to the toilet~. But pops, you were in an awful hurry there. Is it because... Chen’s hiding in that back room I spotted?

Chinese Restaurant Owner: ?!

Zhao: [smirk] Looks like I hit the nail on the head... Chen, why don’t you come out now? The exits are all covered, you can’t escape.

[door opens]

Chen Yangming: ...How did you know I was here?

Zhao: [neutral] Because you left Lang Lang with Wang.

Chen Yangming: ...Excuse me?

Zhao: You dote on that cat. You’d have wanted to take her with you if you could. But you didn’t, and that told me you were somewhere Lang Lang couldn’t go. Granted, there’s plenty of reasons why you might not have taken her along: safety, preference, her meowing... However, a place that’s hard for the Liumang to investigate because of their tenuous relationship; a place that Chen can trust; and a place where Lang Lang can’t go... If you think about it, the only one that fits is Jinhua. Jinhua has the scent of garlic, which Lang Lang doesn’t like.

Chen Yangming: ...So you even knew that Lang Lang doesn’t like garlic?

Zhao: No, not originally. I noticed that you stopped eating stir-fried water spinach here around the same time that you took in Lang Lang... [smirk] That’s when the lightbulb went off. Lang Lang doesn’t like garlic, so you switched to beef ramen, right?

Chen Yangming: ...Hmph, ain’t that a big deduction. Seems you’re smarter than I thought.

Zhao: [smirk] I’m a pretty capable kid, you know~.

Chen Yangming: I wasn’t expecting it. Still, for you to have used your men to cover all the exits, that’s a little naive, don’t you think?

Zhao: [neutral] Hm? What’s naive?

Chen Yangming: That you stood before me alone! I’m gonna take you hostage and flee the town!

[Battle]

Chen Yangming: W-What strength... Shit... kill me quickly. Bring in your men and make an example of me.

Zhao: [smirk] Yeah, that was a lie. I’m the only one here.

Chen Yangming: The hell...?

Zhao: [neutral] In two hours, there’ll be a five-minute gap in the watch around Kinka Bridge. If you can squeeze through that, you can escape the city. That’s all I came to say. Well, good luck.

Chen Yangming: O-Oi...! Wait a minute! Why would you tell me that...

Zhao: Anything to help.

Chen Yangming: Bullshit! I tried to kill you! What are you up to..?!

Zhao: [frown] Haah... you know, no-one likes a persistent man. I’m the leader of an organization, so I have to give them an example to follow.

Zhao: I’ve known you for a long time. Besides... As the boss’s son, everyone’s always treated me like a tumour, but you were the only one who was honest about it. [smirk] It pissed me off, but... it wasn’t all bad. 

Chen Yangming: Zhao...

Zhao: Well, it is what it is. Enjoy your second life. See ya.

[he leaves]

Chen Yangming: ...I’m sorry, Zhao...

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

Scene #7: Yokohama · Qing Jin

Narration: After a while...

Zhao’s Aide: ...We haven’t found any trace of Chen since then. He might have already left Japan.

Zhao: My bad. I botched the initial instructions. I’m sure he’d already left town by then. [smirk] Sorry for being such an unreliable boss. I’ll do better next time.

Zhao’s Aide: ...I’ll leave it at that.

Zhao: Hm? You say something?

Zhao’s Aide: No... not at all.

------END------ ------------------

Liumang Man Wang: Tch... How did this privileged upstart...

Wang calls Zhao a “bonbon” (ボンボン), slang for a posh/upper-class person who can’t do anything by themself, is naive to the world, etc.

The name of the restaurant is 金華. I went back and forth on whether it should be Kinka, as is the case with Kinka Bridge and Pharmacy in west Yokohama, or it should be Jinhua. Since it’s a Chinese restaurant and uses the same characters as the Chinese city, as opposed to 金花, I went with the latter.

And here’s stir-fried water spinach:

[thy-lover]

The Prettiest Star in the Sky - A. Morgan, M. Bell

Arthur Morgan x Micah Bell

WARNINGS - Angst, Gay!Romance, short flashbacks to parental abuse

SUMMARY - It's New Years and the whole gang was out doing jobs in Saint Denise Chinatown for it was the busiest day of the year. When the fireworks shot off love came to set in the lonely hearts of men and women.

(GIF by @roguishknight)

Micah walked around Chinatown for what seemed like decades, trying to find anyone from the Van Der Linde Gang but alas to no luck. All he ended up doing was shooing away street vendors who tried to sell him miracle tonics or Special tablets to 'make you go all night' whatever the hell that means.

But he gave up his search long ago, Micah was now looking for Kuo Chao & Co. The supposed best Gunstore in town.

Micah pushed the door open and put a boot down on the floor "Hello! Come in! I hope you find som- Oh no. No, no, get out!!!"

Micah raised his hands in surrender and chuckled "What not happy to see me?"

Kuo Chao huffed in shock "Happy to see you? Happy to fuckin hell! No! No, I am not! you run away my business!"

Micah rolled his eyes "I ran the O'Driscolls away for you!"

"You ruined my reputation!"

"And now I'm bringing back your business by personally buying something. Now get me one of those double actions revolver."

Kuo Chao slumped his shoulder and groaned "Fine. What do you want on it?"

-----

Micah uses his back to push the door open all while steadying the box in his hands.

The moment he walked out of the Gun store and was greeted by a booming voice cutting through the crowds "Micah! Hey Micah! Over here!"

Micah followed the voice and saw Arthur leaning against the rail of the bridge, Micah walked over and leaned beside the bridge to

"Waddya want Morgan?"

"Just wanna know if you know where the rest of the gang is?"

Micah shook his head, but he did use his free hand to take a pocket watch out of his inner coat pocket "But it's almost 12, they'll be here soon. Probably wanna watch the fireworks."

Arthur hummed and looked down at the street "Whats the point of this anyway?"

"New Years'? A day where people make promises to themselves and never go through with it."

Arthur rolled his eyes and couldn't help but smile a little "Optimistic ain't ya?"

Micah shrugs his silence getting the better of him. He can't help but looks around at people through the streets with a smile on their face. it was so crowded that Micah could hear the conversation of those around him. "The future ain't promised to no one. Can't promise yourself something, you know that Arthur?"

"Course," Arthur mumbles as he takes his hat off and sifts his fingers through his hair "Been running with this gang for years now, ya learn early on that the future. Well, the future is unpredictable."

"Exactly! Y'know you'n me? We ain't all that different."

Arthur fully turned to look at Micah "I beg to differ. The only reason I say the future is unpredictable is 'cause I've been in a gang most my life, watched people die."

Micah shook his head and tucked the box under one arm "That's the issue, Morgan. I don't miss people when they die show's I was raised. Same difference. We got the same idea but a different outlook on it."

Arthur hummed and looked down the bridge to the people and something caught his eye a young couple, reaching forward to each other and kissing.

Arthur continued to look around and found more people kissing "The hell's goin' on?"

Micah followed his gaze and saw what Arthur is looking at "They're just celebrating early."

"for what?"

Micah chuckled "The hell have you been all your life?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and knocked Micah's shoulder with his own "Cause you've been everywhere?"

Micah's eyes widened and he smiled softly, feigning insult "Oh I've been everywhere, been to Texas to Nevada to Arkansas to Arizona, to Tennessee. Wanted in so many damn states I can't count!"

Arthur turned his head so it was facing off in another direction, and when Micah couldn't gaze upon Arthur's face Arthur began to laugh while covering his mouth with a hand and tilting his head so the rim of his hat hid his facial expressions, 'Right, Suck your own dick do ya?'

"Watchu laughing at?" Micah pouted.

Arthur waved his hands out in dismissal "Nothin' Nothin', Now I tell me, outlaw, what's the gist?"

Micah clears his throat, he straightens his back, and squares his shoulders preparing himself to talk about something embarrassing "Well, everywhere I went New Year was celebrated mostly the same. Few changes here and there but there's one thing that'll never change."

"What's that?"

"Well when the clock strikes midnight two folks kiss depending on the kiss and how....dunno passionate the kiss is it changes the type of luck you'll get." Micah explains, Micah clutches the box in both hands now.

"So, how long till midnight?" Arthur asks. Micah pulls out his pocket watch and reads the time.

"11:50." Arthur Hummed in response.

"Whatchu got there?" Arthur pointed at the box Micah was holding.

"Oh!" Micah holds the box out to Arthur awkwardly "Got somethin' for ya."

Arthurs jaw drops slightly "For me?" Micah shakes his head yes "You sure it ain't a bomb?" Arthur jokes.

"just take it fer I change my mind."

Arthur smiles and takes the box, he pushes open the lid and his eyes widen at what he sees inside, it is a double-action revolver, with a gold barrel. a gold hammer and trigger as well as better rifling sights. The grip was a beautiful wood finish with oak wood and light varnish. But it wasn't the gun itself that took Arthur's breath away it was the engraving on the barrel and the etching on the grip

Arthur read the engraving out loud "To Copper Morgan - My Best friend." Arthur uses his thumb to travel down to the crib, he felt the engraving of his dog Copper's face. Arthur knew what photo Micah used as a reference.

"C'mon Arthur keep him still!" Dutch whispered as he sat across from Hosea, Dutch and Hosea trying desperately not to move and give in to the giggles they just so happened to be holding in. They were trying to hold Copper still. But he just wouldn't stay put for this picture.

Arthur though of an idea he walked behind the camera to the camera man and held up a dried beef strip.

Copper immediately stopped his black puppy dogs eyes held with curiosity, his soft flappy ears tilting to the side.

Even the camerman couldnt help but chuckle "Hold it, and Got it!"

Arthur chuckled at the Memory, and looked up at Micah who just so happened to be suddenly counting the stars and twiddling his fingers nervously "Micah-"

"You dont like it just give it back." Micah knit his brows together and let anger rise, only to bubble back down when Arthur reached up with the palm of his hand to wipe away his own tears.

Arthur misses a lot of folks he misses the Callender Boys, misses Isaac and Bessie but that Dog, that dog was with him through the loss of everyone he ever cared to love, well Copper and Boadicea "How did you get that picture?" Arthur sniffled.

Micah suddenly feeling bad spoke lowly and shyly "stole it off your nightstand."

Arthur laughed though it sounded more sad than humorous "why'd ya do this for me, Micah?"

"If you dont like it then-"

"Just answer the question."

Micah just stood there watching his pocket watch turn to 11:58 "I-I don't know Morgan." Micah rubbed the bridge of his nose the looked back up to the stars. Anything, everything felt better than looking at Arthur's face.

He could hear Micah Bell Senior shouting and yelling at him, maybe even throwing a beer bottle and hearing it shatter. He could hear his Pa saying 'I knew you was no Man! Knew you was weak and yellow just like your brother!' followed by the sound of a slap to Micah's cheek. And the taste of blood on Micah's tongue.

Micah could feel himself crumbling and falling back down that mountain he tried so hard to climb, he could practically feel his heart start to harden "I don't know Arthur! I don't even know why the hell I bought it! I don't even know why I'm talking to y-"

While Micah was caterwaulin' Arthur had long since put the new revolver in the other empty holster, the holster Micah gave him in thanks for breaking him out of Strawberry. With nothing left to do, Arthur tapped Micah's shoulder. When it caught Micah and pulled him out of his ramblings Arthur leaned forward and caught Micah by the lips.

Micah's heart stopped and he felt himself falter, his brain busted, and all Micah could do is kiss back. At this moment nothing existed. The floor didn't exist and if it did why couldn't Micah feel it? He couldn't hear the voices of his Pa. Nothing existed but Arthur Morgan and his light,

But a large cackle sound tore them from their fantasy, Micah and Arthur pulled away and duck behind the cover of the bridge guard rail. They've been shot too many times for this sound to be anything but safe.

It was only till the cheer of the crowd ripped them from their fears. They looked through the rails and watched as the colors of red and yellow ripped through the sky with something fierce then blew up in little pieces. Its embers scatter the sky like dirt flying from an explosion.

Micah and Arthur stood up for the first time and watched in amazement as sparks fly of all types of colors.

This was too much for Micah, an overload of things happening. Arthur kissed him, people were all around him, the noises that reminded him of gunfire, seeing fireworks for the first time was too much and Arthur grabbed his hand.

Arthur grabbed his hand. Micah looked down at the hand intertwining with his, holy shit! Cowpoke is holding my hand!!!!

Arthur then turned to him "How's about we aim for some good luck?"

Micah chuckled and let Arthur pull him in for another kiss.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary338

8/23/24

friday

want to sleep soon.

spent all day working on the same song... again... got another guitar tone out too, which is nice, hope that one will be useful later on. i need to start work on the ost in full tomorrow probably. right now i am listening to a band called 'squid pisser' and their thing is that they sound a lot like the locust. so i'm into it. even though it's mostly just locust worship... i get it... i worship the locust too. one of the vocalists kinda sounds like nick cave in the birthday party on one of these songs. i need to hear their first album. i'm really enjoying this record actually, some of it is super locust-y but some stuff's a little different, they do the riff-y-er bits differently. they kinda lean into the hardcore catharsis a little more, or differently. the locust do play with that too.

i should also watch a movie... the day after tomorrow... cuz apparently we are now going to chinatown, to do nothing but hang about and get treats i suppose. so i will pencil a movie in for sunday.

i'm being avoidant about listening to the song cuz i don't want to hate it or something, always so disheartening.

that's just how this goes, it's a kind of bickering with oneself until the thing seems complete somehow, or it's reached some kind of precious footing that messing with it anymore would mess everything up. although, i mess with stuff anyways, it's only when i'm satisfied, that i did everything on purpose at least i guess. or if there's really happy accidents. some tones are effortless, some riffs are effortless, some songs feel like that and then i have to go mix them and then a lot of focus kind of begins to appear i think.

i'm onto the first squid pisser record, it's less locust-y in places, which is cool, it's cool to hear them do some more straight-laced hardcore-y stuff and work the synths into that, kinda instructive for me.

lol this album has the girl from that goofy band starcrawler, arrow dewilde, my gf and i saw her wandering around vegas once.

that's bizarre that she's on this, this is kind of like when karen o was on this song:

some say this is one of the best songs ever... well no one but me actually... but it is!!!

the song w/ yako from melt banana on this squid pisser record is very good, i remember hearing this when it came out. her shouts are so fun. i like that they did this first album with a bunch of guest vocalists, that's very sweet to me, i'm really excited to hear the song they got joey from the locust on this album for.

this one is just okay, it's kinda slow but i like all the uggy noises, it's mostly just the uggy noises and not much pace. but i like hearing joey do that sorta apathetic moaning, it's cute on him.

good record... what else to say. i should just sleep now since we are suddenly going out tomorrow. thought i would be staying in and cooking and things. it's okay that i'm not, i am excited to get icecream tomorrow. i'm making sure i get icecream i have been craving it.

oh, the selfies i took the other day, i was in a rush and they're like super blurry and not good looking, so no pictures.... it's okay, i just wore a corset belt in a mental sorta way. wonder what i'll wear tomorrow... i'm sure i'll figure it out, it'll be fun to get dressed. i am probably going to see my gf's brother tomorrow too... that will be fun i bet, when we go do our own thing and, he gets pissy, i am expecting that!!!! cool!!!!

since tomorrow will be #busy, i will sleep now,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[umichenginabroad]

Week 5: Fenrir Invades Britain

Sorry that it’s taken me so long to make this post. I've been busy and there’s a lot to get into so let's get straight into it.

I don’t know how or why but Fenrir stole my credit card. He not only stole it but he bought a 6 am flight to London of all places! I think he might be trying to connect with his Nordic roots and is invading Britain. Wanting to save my wallet and save the British people from his merciless wrath, I followed him and hopped on my own flight to London.

The Little monster taunting me, sending me pictures of him spending all my money.

The Flight:

Oh god the flight over to Britain was so bad. I was up at like 2 am because we had to walk 30 minutes to our bus to then take an hour bus transfer to the airport. It was not fun but better safe and at the airport early then sorry and missing our flight. Clearly Fenrir made his way onto the flight and I did too. That little cretin is causing mischief and is taking after his father (Loki). I don’t know why I thought I could help him out. I knew there was no opportunity for me to do anything about him being on the flight so to make sure that I’d have energy to catch him afterward I took a nap on the flight for the long day of chasing him around that I’d have ahead of me. 

The Arrival:

Once we arrived in Britain I lost sight of Fenrir and knew that cheeky little bugger would soon send me pictures taunting me so I’d just have to go track him down later. Instead we made the tedious process of taking a train into London proper and then taking the tube over to our airbnb. Honestly it wasn’t too hard to figure out how to use the tube and get around to our airbnb. The main thing that was a little bit confusing at first was honestly figuring out how to use our ticket at the turnstile to get out. But once we made it through the station and arrived at our airbnb we were met with our lodgings for the next few days and what would be our base of operations in operation Stop Fenrir Before He Commits Treason or Something Worse, or for short Operation SFBHCTOSW. 

Liverpool Street Station in all its glory. Really pretty station that’s all.

After our initial recovery from the tube and planes we realized that we hadn’t eaten anything and thus before going to search for Fenrir we would need some food. We hopped back on the tube and took a 40 minute tube into West London and the SOHO area. We got some fish and chips (more on those later)  and then split up to go and search for him .

Fenrir in Chinatown in London, SOHO. His reign of chaos has already started; he must be stopped.

He had sent his first pic (the one above) since the plane ride. We knew that he would be in the SOHO area and so it was really convenient that we went there anyway for food. He appeared to be in the chinatown area judging by the massive gate in the picture and so we headed that way. We did make a quick pit stop at Tesco express just to get some necessities but that was a quick stop. The bigger issue was where he sent his next picture from. It appeared that Fenrir was getting a little bit more courageous and he was having fun with this chase and teasing us.

Fenrir at the National Gallery enjoying some art. He thinks he’s cultured now does he

HE WENT TO THE NATIONAL GALLERY SERIOUSLY?! I didn’t know he liked art, maybe there’s more to him than at first glance. Maybe he’s gone to Britain for more than just an invasion. Anyways, we went to the National Gallery to try and find the little guy. But, it turns out the place is like a maze. There’s so many different paths and rooms just filled to the brim with medieval artwork and pieces of history. The only saving grace are the arrows pointing to certain artists and their exhibits and the arrow to the gift shop/exit because there’s always a gift shop. We were at the gallery until they closed and then decided to split up to try and find him. Some people went shopping in SOHO, some went walking around, and I just waited in the area until I got the next text. That was when I got the next text.

FENRIR DRINKING BOBA. Like cmooooon please just give me a sip it looks so good.

HE WENT TO GET BOBA ARE YOU SERIOUS?! My bank account is crying as he keeps spending more and more of my money. I went to chase after him but it’s like chasing after someone who is a) faster then you and b) is like 10 steps ahead of you. It’s impossible to catch up to him and it’s hopeless. I just have to wait for him to slip up and spend just a little bit too long in one place after sending a picture. 

Fenrir drinks some really fancy tea from a place called TWG tea. 

NOW HE’S GETTING TEA!! Like seriously?! He’s doing all the things that I wanted to do and enjoying himself while I’m stuck chasing after him. He’s such a little monster. I hope he knows that when I finally catch him he’s going to go into time out and get punished. Anyways, I went back the way that I just came to go to the tea store. It wasn’t too bad of a walk but by the time I got there he was gone so I just bought me some tea myself because I needed some too. 

Fenrir sitting on top of a lego british guard man. He truly is trying to take over, he’s getting the military on his side now!

HA I think he might have messed up! The lego store is right next to the tea shop. I get in line and get in fairly quickly. I started exploring all around the lego store and it’s really cool . They had a massive lego Big Ben which was one of the key showcases of the store. They had the common lego store things like a build your own minifigure station as well as a bunch of legos to buy. The other unique thing about this lego store was the lego shakespeare and lego harry potter. They had a lego voldemort and a bunch of cool harry potter stuff.  But anyways, after my gawking at all the cool lego things I still couldn’t find him. It was getting late at this point so I decided to head back for the night after getting some dinner. I don’t know where he went off to but we will find him!

The adapter monster that we had created. I can’t guarantee that this wasn’t a fire hazard but it didn’t explode while we were there so it was probably fine.

Day 2: The Search Continues 

With no sign of Fenrir in sight we decided to just head into central London to get some breakfast. Which is where we actually got our first message from Fenrir for the day. He was at a cafe and was getting breakfast on my dollar. Like come on man at least let me eat some of it. 

Fenrir eats his breakfast at this cafe. He has a bacon biscuit, tea and, a bottle of water 

After chasing Fenrir down to this cafe and getting some breakfast of our own he was nowhere to be found. I don’t know how but he keeps staying one step ahead of us no matter what we do. I don’t know how we can catch up with him in this massive city. I swear, back in Reykjavik I could probably walk the length of the city in an hour. Now in London it takes an hour just to tube from the airbnb to central London. It’s insane how much larger London is. Anyways, not wanting to waste an entire day just searching for Fenrir we decided to head out to Buckingham palace for a very good reason. 

Video depicting the changing of the guards of Buckingham palace.

We decided to head to Buckingham palace so that way we could try and warn the guards about the threat that has entered their country, Fenrir. But, with the fact that when we arrived it was the changing of the guards and that yesterday was election day and thus there was a lot of chaos with the change of prime minister we weren’t able to tell them. We were able to at least see the pretty horses and the beautiful gates and palace. 

Not really knowing where our next clue would take us we just decided to enjoy being in London for a bit. We headed over to the Borough Market to go and explore and oh boi was it amazing. I personally am a fan of markets like these and they only really are able to pop up in large cities. I don’t think Reykjavik has one like this though and honestly it was amazing. The market was basically a bit of the streets and was filled with a bunch of corridors to different stalls and shops which were selling literally everything you could imagine. If I was in London for longer I would definitely be spending a lot more time and money at the markets. 

A stall selling a bunch of fresh sea-food and fish at the market. 

Honestly I’m kind of sad that I’m not in London for longer but we have a task at hand. There was one thing that made me sad a little bit and that was just how much cheaper a lot of the things were here when compared to Iceland. I saw full loafs of amazing looking sourdough bread for only like $5 compared to the $10 I’m spending in Reykjavik for my bread. We got some food here for lunch and I bought some more tea for me to take home. There were a lot of things to explore and if I ever came to London I would definitely come back here again. 

After the market we felt a little bit lost and didn’t really know where to go and where to find Fenrir. I figured that one of the best places to go would be to go and pray. I wanted to go visit St.Paul’s Cathedral anyways and this was a pretty good reason to. It’s one of the biggest buildings in London and holds the graves of many great war heroes and musicians who served the cathedral. 

St.Paul’s Cathedral from the west entrance

After paying my student entrance fee I started walking around and learning all the history through the provided audio guide. Every hour a preacher comes in the middle of the cathedral and asks for a moment of silence for prayer and prays. This is in addition to the regularly scheduled masses and services. While exploring the cathedral that was where I found him. WE FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO HIM! He was just sitting there in the center of the cathedral. I think he was scared and lost, I think he finally realized that what he did was wrong and he was just trying to have fun. 

Me catching Fenrir at the center of the Cathedral, you naughty little boi.

As part of his punishment for running away, stealing my card, and dragging me around on a chase of him through London (and worrying me) I forced him to climb all the way up the 500+ stairs to the top of the Cathedral with me. It was honestly exhausting going up all those stairs and I think it was more of a punishment for me because he just got a free ride in my backpack. He is a little naughty boi but he’s cute so he gets a pass. Once we finally made it up all the stairs we took a picture together of the amazing view from the top of the tower. 

The picture from the top of the publicly accessible parts of the cathedral tower after my climb with Fenrir finally behaving himself in my backpack.

After our journey to the tippity top of the tower we then went to the basest basement of the cathedral which is the crypt. There are many great heroes here and it’s in part to commemorate the great people of British history. There are even monuments to people that aren’t buried here but are still important in British history such as Winston Churchill. 

Fenrir saluting some of the flags. These were flags representing the British allies during the Battle of Waterloo against Napoleon. Pictures are the British, Portuguese, and Russian

As we were leaving the cathedral we passed by the gift shop. There Fenrir found a new friend, one that might be dear to many of us at heart. Fenrir becomes quick friends with the Queen’s favorite bear Paddington. Seeing that they were great friends and that they were just too cute together (and the fact I was hungry) I decided to take them to Nando’s. We got some food (more later) but just look at the cuties being together.

Us 3 at Nando’s chilling getting ready to eat our dinner.

Now here’s where I get both a little more mad and not mad at Fenrir. He, still in possession of my credit card, decided to buy tickets to go and see the Book of Mormon. The Book of Mormon for those of you who don’t know is a highly satirical comedy musical from the creators of South Park. It’s really funny and I’ve wanted to see it for a while, that’s the only reason that I’m not ready to throw Fenrir in the streets. 

Look at him acting all innocent after spending all this money for tickets. Was worth it though so I can’t complain lol. 

We made our way to the theatre and paid for a play bill. Something that you don’t normally do in America and on Broadway shows. But, I like collecting play bills so I paid $11 for the play bill and programme. And oh my it was so worth it. I love musicals and plays and this has been one that I’ve wanted to see for years. I’m so happy I finally was able to see it. The set was fantastic and the way that utilized all aspects of the fully customized set was amazing. This is going to get a bit theatrical and nerdy but just stay with me.

I follow the rules and so there’s no picture of the show b/c that’s against the rules and I wanted to enjoy the show in its entirety.

The stage utilized a series of different backdrops for different scenes and such, that much is normal is theatre. The thing that really amazed me and was fantastic was the utilization of a front backdrop that was opaque and applied a tint (sort of like a screen) onto the stage. It was really useful and created a really nice way of showcasing the flashbacks and stories from The Book of Mormon itself. In addition the way that they utilize simple things like a door and an elevated platform for different things just depending on the scene is fantastic. I’ve been in plays where we have to move these things and do them and it’s always amazing seeing it done on a professional level. Shout out to my drama teachers in high school for getting me into all these things and giving me opportunities to nerd out about all these things and expand my knowledge. 

Fenrir getting a spot of ice cream during intermission

Now as in most long shows there is an intermission. After using the bathroom and making my way back to my seat I found out something that is a bit different about British theatre compared to American theatre. During intermission it’s common to get ice cream (which they sell) and to then go back to your seat and eat it there. I’ve never seen this in America, but it was quite nice. I just got vanilla ice cream b/c it was the only good looking flavor that was left and it did taste good 8/10. 

Getting back into the show we got through the 2nd half of all the chaos that happens within the Book of Mormon musical. It was honestly amazing and I loved it so much and it was so worth going to go see. I did end up having a really nice conversation with one of the employees who was a 2nd year uni student (same as me) who is studying theatre. It’s such a different world and just seeing that people are able to be in that life is amazing to me. Anyways, afterwards we just took the tube back to the apartment and settled in for the night.

The Final Day: Enjoying Britain to its Fullest

After drinking a cup of tea, going to the train, drinking another cup of tea, and getting on a bus I arrived at where I was going to be spending today. Greenwich. Do you know what makes Greenwich so special? Have you ever heard of time zones and the term GMT + or - some amount? Well that stands for Greenwich Mean Time and represents the average time in Greenwich where the prime meridian is located. The prime meridian is 0 degrees longitude (imaginary lines that run from pole to pole). I am a nerd and so was really excited to get to see all the cool things here. 

In Greenwich there is a massive park which has a line for walking the prime meridian, the Royal Observatory, the National Maritime Museum, and the Queen’s House amongst many other things. I had a few hours before my scheduled stuff later in the day and so I went to the Maritime Museum with not too much hope for what I would see. But boy was I not disappointed. 

Fenrir looking at a massive scale model of a destroyer class ship. It was honestly really big

The journey through the museum started with the first room which had a lot of artifacts from history and models of famous boats and ships. The model ships were just impressive to see more than anything else. They all had really precise details and were really interesting to look at. The artifacts on the wall were also interesting but for a different reason. They had artifacts from different times, all the way back to the 1400’s. These artifacts varied from everything to a saxtent and a compass all the way up to a Russian AK-47. 

Gotta represent my 2nd amendment and showcase these. What was kinda sad was the fact that the blunderbuss (a weapon from the 1700’s) was undergoing conservation efforts so it wasn't there.

After looking at all the cool artifacts I started exploring around the building to see what else I could find. They actually had a special limited time exhibit about a space photography contest, and this exhibit was showcasing a lot of the higher scoring entries and the winners. It was amazing seeing all these different pictures of space. They had many different categories for people to enter. Things such as, Nebulas, the sun, auroras, people and space, and then categories for amateurs. I honestly found all this stuff so cool. I’m not generally an art person (as I’ve stated before) but trust me when I say that this was so worth it. It honestly gets you to think about how small we are in comparison to the cosmos and how much more there is out there. It was really beautiful and some of these pictures were just amazing and like you can see why the ones that won were the ones that won (in most cases). If anything the pieces that were the winners or 2nd place had judge’s comments explaining why they were where they were. Also, every photo has a paragraph by the photographer where they explain how the photo was taken and why they made certain creative decision and it’s really cool to see the technical side of things from behind the scenes.

“The Dark Wolf - Fenrir” being looked at by the good boi Fenrir, look he’s so happy at seeing himself :D 

After that was onto the pacific front of British maritime history. If you know anything about the British and the Pacific there are two very specific things that happened here that we need to talk about, The East India Company (British Raj) and Opium. Quick history lesson for those of you who don’t know (the exhibit talked about this), in the late 1700’s Britain had control of the entirety of the Indian region and this was all under the control of the East Indies Trading Company. Britain then started trading tea and other goods with the Chinese and tea started becoming extremely popular in Britain and China is where it was grown. However, this trading put Britain in a lot of debt to the Chinese. Thus to pay off this debt, Britain started growing opium in India to then smuggle into China and sell to the Chinese to pay off the debt. The goal was to get the Chinese addicted to opium to pay off the Chinese and it worked. However, the Chinese caught on to this illegal trade and it ended up in two separate wars with Britain over the opium export into China. Britain won decisively and acquired Hong Kong as a trading port because of this. Now the museum had all of this information listed as well as artifacts throughout the time (such as an opium pipe) and that’s all cool. But, the reason that I went through all the effort of explaining the Opium Wars and the history behind them as well as a rough history of British policy is for one singular reason (of which I forgot to picture but it’s fine). In that room, the museum had a wall where you could leave little notes where you would comment on your opinion of the British East India Company and their actions. The entire wall was filled with comments talking about how wrong the company was and how horrible the actions of the British were. I just felt that it is important to note that people don’t like the actions of the British empire at the time, not even the British. 

Picture showcasing a part of the exhibit about the Opium Wars and how they acknowledged it’s unjust

Across the hall was the Atlantic side of the British Empire, of which we originate from. USA TIME!!! Honestly compared to the pacific front this side was a lot more disappointing. There was a small exhibit about the slave trade that was pretty standard, it looked like a picture from a textbook. I would say the coolest thing that I did see here was the bit of the exhibit where they talked about the crops and goods that were grown in North America and had facts about them and their purpose. That was just interesting in that it was the only thing that wasn’t just a picture of text on a wall. Also, I like sugar so I’m biased in that aspect. They did have a small little exhibit on the independance war (AMERICAN) but it was extremely small.

Sugar time. We gonna get sweet with this one

Now was on to the main show of the night which was meeting up with some family that I have in Britain. Since Fenrir was found and I had the time in London that I might as well get my worth out of it. We were going to be meeting at the Royal Observatory which is in Greenwich. This observatory is actually what marks the Prime Meridian so that’s really cool. We were going to be seeing two different planetarium shows. A planetarium show is where you sit in a big dome, lean back, and learn a little bit while staring up at the dome which is having stuff projected onto it. The two shows that we were seeing were about the night’s sky (ie stars and stuff) and the planets that were in our solar system. 

Picture of us 5 at the planetarium getting ready to watch the show. Fenrir is also there, he likes space now. (the last person is taking the picture)

The shows were really interesting. I did know most of the information within them, just because I like to know random things, but it was still cool to see. I also just got to spend time with family and so that was really nice. It was also raining outside and so it was nice to be inside and relax while relearning some cool stuff about space. Plus, when it comes to space stuff you can’t go wrong. After that we just walked around and explored for a bit. We went and got some food (again more on that later) and just kept exploring and walking around. Despite the rain and everything it was still just amazing. Usually they are the ones that come and visit us in Michigan, so it was really nice to be able to come and see them in the UK for once. I am really grateful that they made the trip all the way over to London to come and see me and it was really nice. Fenrir was able to see his cousins and he was really happy after it. Now that he made his new friend and is back safe with me he has tamed down a lot and he’s been behaving himself. 

Us just outside of the Royal Observatory on the courtyard above the park. Pictured from left to right are myself, Fenrir (he’s such a good boi), cousins, and their father.

Honestly it was just a good day so far and I was really happy with the way that things have been progressing. Turns out when you don’t have to run around a massive unfamiliar city looking for a mythical creature worried about what he’s going to do, London can be amazing. Getting to see family was just the cherry on top and it was honestly one of the highlights of my short time in London. I do wish I could have stayed longer to spend more time with them but we must move on, for there is studying to be done. 

Now… there is one more thing I did that day… that was the most unique experience for me personally. I went to a British pub. Fenrir and I met up with one of my long time online friends at a pub in London. For reference, I’ve known him since I was about 8 years old and we played on a minecraft server together. So I’ve known him for a while. Now this was something that we had wanted to do and had been talking about for a bit. But, this is my first time meeting any of the people in that group in person. He was the first person out of anyone of that group that I had actually physically met and it was an amazing time.

Picture of myself and my friend

Today (Saturday) was the day of the Euro 24 football match (Soccer in American terms) of England vs Switzerland. This was a quarter-final match so this was pretty important. Everywhere that I went I saw people setting stuff up to watch this match and it’s amazing how much people love the sport here. We originally were going to go to a certain pub but we had to switch pubs because the one we originally wanted to go to was packed from the game. For my first experience in a British pub it did not disappoint. I personally don’t really drink that much, I’ve had small amounts and the flavor doesn’t really interest me. But, my friend offered to buy me a drink and so I got a kiwi and lime cider. It honestly wasn’t that bad. It did take me an hour and a half to drink the pint of cider that I had which to say the least meant I didn’t really drink a lot. Still I got my pub experience of drinking a pint.

Fenrir takes after his nordic roots and starts to drink. He’ll be a true viking in no time.

Back onto the game. I personally don’t really do sports. I play a lot of video games and occasionally will keep up with ESports (things such as League of Legends) but even I was into this match. The reason being because it was such a hectic match. Now, I can’t give you a play-by-play of what happened because I don’t even know, but I can tell you the general gist of what happened and why this was so hectic. For the first three quarters of the match there wasn’t a SINGLE GOAL scored for either team. That meant the entire game pretty much came down to the last quarter. In which, Switzerland was the first team to score. Now the collective sign and boo’s that I heard there were amazing. The fact that everyone had the same collective reaction at the same time in unison was perfect. Now the demoralized pub goer’s stayed like that for about 5 minutes, if even that. When Britain then quickly scored a goal and caught up. Then I heard this: 

WARNING: headphone users please be careful

To say the least the pub went ecstatic and I myself got caught up in it too. The cheering, hollering, wooing, all the screaming, everything that was loud was happening. It was one of the most energetic things I have ever seen in my life. If you haven’t seen people in a pub when their home team scores a goal just imagine a jar filled with bouncy balls that you are shaking with the balls going every which way. That’s pretty much what was happening but 10 times louder and with people jumping up and down. It was an insane thing to witness and I’m honestly so happy that I got to witness it. It’s something that was only possible to witness due to the unique time that I went to the UK. 

Now if you think that was the peak of the game it got even more insane. There were no more goals scored for the rest of the time, and thus they went into a 30 minute overtime. Now I’m going to kind of speed ahead but AGAIN there were no goals scored during the 30 minute overtime. This is where things get even more insane. The game got into such a state that it went into penalty kicks to determine who would win the game. In the end… ENGLAND WON!!! By 2 penalty kicks… BUT THEY STILL WON!! Despite not being British it was still such a hype moment and I felt so proud. It was really fun to say the least. 

Picture of the pub we were in. It’s called “The Yacht”

After the game my friend and I had to part ways as he had work to attend to. But we said our farewells and I went back to the airbnb. I had a nightmare of packing ahead of me as I didn’t bring a carry-on so everything was going into my backpack. It was a nightmare to pack and it was even worse to carry but I did get everything in it.

Paddington explains to Fenrir something known as “night”. We haven’t seen this in over a month and yet it was common here and it got dark at a certain time. It was kind of nice not having the sun at all times, although this is but a foreign concept to us who have been in Iceland for over a month.

The Return:

This is going to be a bit more short, just in that I’ve kept you here for long enough. We took a train to the train station, took another train (a nicer one with cool chairs), to the airport. Then after waiting around in the airport we got on our plane and I slept for 2 hours. We had an 11 am flight and so it was not fun, but at least it wasn’t 6 am. Once arriving back in Iceland we then had 2 hours of buses and bus transfers ahead of us and so that wasn’t fun. But we eventually did make it back, where I immediately passed out on my bed. I did get up because I had to get groceries for the next day, but god my body was ready to just give out at that point. I had made it home to Reykjavik and I had plenty of stories to tell that much was for sure. 

Fenrir saying goodbye to Britain on the plane ride back

Honestly I was very skeptical about going to Britain. I am someone who thinks a lot about the money that you spend to do things and worries about my finances quite often. But, I was very happy that I went. It was an experience unlike anything I’ve had before and It was amazing. By the way if you have noticed I haven’t included the amount of money that I’ve spent yet for anything in any of the blog posts and that is for good reason, Iceland is expensive. I don’t want to look at the amount of money I’ve spent, and that is with me cooking to save money. There is one thing to look forward to though if you do care about money and stuff. I am planning to make a spreadsheet to detail the amount of money that I spent while abroad and on different things. All that to say, I normally regret decisions that involve a lot of money, or at least contemplate their worth, but this was not one of them. I loved going to London and experiencing Britain. 

Alex Shamoun

Robotics

Engineering in Reykjavik

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

After the sunscreen was applied thoroughly, they just took a moment to rest, drink water, and shamelessly hold hands. William felt very relaxed and carefree today, it really was good to be alone with Sebastian at least for a day. Being at the estate was great, but they still had to pretend and be careful, around grandma and the staff, so at least one day of total freedom was needed every once in a while. William just loved feeling ‘normal’ like this – people were all around them and no one was batting an eye, they were just a casual couple, nothing strange. What a great feeling.

“Yes, we definitely need to go to the beach. The one in Newcastle is soooo much bigger than the one in St Michael’s. It also has big promenade along the shore, food stands, and such. It’s a lovely place.” William agreed, as they discussed their plans for the rest of the day. “Let’s go there a bit later in the afternoon, once the sun won’t be so harsh. As for dinner, I told James that Bard can’t skip cooking big meal for us today, so we can eat in the city too.” William said. “Newcastle has Chinatown district, we can go to the market there maybe? And then we can have Chinese for dinner?” heh, Bard was a great cook, but sometimes William just craved takeout.

Well then, since they had a plan, they soon resumed walking along the paths of the Botanical Gardens, heading towards the exit. They held hands, took more selfies, and just enjoyed the beautiful surroundings. It was almost a shame to leave already, but William was also very excited to go to the city too, do some sightseeing and shopping.

Once they got back to the car, put on the GPS, and started driving towards Newcastle, William – like the passenger prince he was – got comfy in his seat and started googling what interesting spots they could see in the city. Something quickly caught his attention. “Oh wow, Newcastle has Science Village. That could be cool! We could go and look at some inventions and scientific exhibitions. What do you think, Seb?”

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[lillaxtrigger]

Street Smarts: Chapter 17

The normal urban atmosphere that wafts throughout the big apple is swelled by the wondrous scents of exotic foods and spices that cut through the grimy city air like a finely sharpened blade; the blend of aroma’s proving a welcoming first impression for anyone visiting China town. The foreign market held in the midst of this small portion of this city is as busy and bustling as ever, with countless people from within and outside New York touring through the many booths and stands that make its marketplace; the swarm of customers drawn to these fascinating food and ingredients the sellers of these booths advertise with pride.

Somewhere nearby within the residential area of this humble foreign settlement, a door from one of its many homes exudes a bright red aura; one of which envelopes its finely carved wood from top to bottom. Few of those passing by heed some mind when out from this door do Wedsle, Frida, and Thursotte emerge out from the other side, exiting out from the inside of the safe house behind them; neighbors perplexed of how these three can exit go casually out from a home that was not there’s and approach as the psychic three stroll away. Yet before any of them could come close to investigate the inside, the door the crew came out from suddenly slams shut; leaving a few of them too spooked to approach. One of them however, was still persists investigating as they take hold of the door’s handle before opening it back up. Everyone near is left perplexed when gazing to what lies behind the doorway, failing to find the scene that the trio walked out from and instead see the bland inside of a normal home.

In the purple psychic’s finger spins a key engraved with bronze carvings held against the head, its design unmistakable from any other; the dimensional psychic nervously watching as the Wedsle causally flips this key around in each of his fingers before warning how: “Will you quit dicking around with the key and just put it in your damn pocket already.” “Frids, relax, this bronze baby here’s in good hands. You going on actin like I got a pieces of priceless diamond right here.” Wedsle jests. “To us, it might as well be. That little piece of bronze you got whirling around your fingers is our only ticket back in the safe house.” “Yeah, Wedsle. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more careful with our only way back.” Thursotte reinforces. “Man, you two really think I’m some sort of careless jackass, don’t you? Listen, long as my hair is as purple as my pubic areas; I swear that this key ain’t gonna slip my-” Yet in the midst of swearing this, the key wind up twirling right off the tip his finger and fly across the street; all of the jerking their sites towards where the piece of bronze careens. “Shit.”

The trio make a frantic mad dash to their one way ticket back to their safehouse as it clangs across the streets of Chinatown; some of the locals nearby watching amused as they desperately race after the piece of bronze. Both Thurs and Weds blood runs cold when watching the key bounce towards the storm drain and fall straight through the metal grate; the purple psychic shouting out: “No! Fuck! Why!” “What do you mean why!? You were spinning it on your finger! Of course this happened!” Thurs exclaims, clutching the violet psychic’s shirt collar. Their overall panic soon deflates when looking back towards the storm drain and finding the 2nd dimensional arm of their other partner slipping out from the grate, turning her hand back to normal to open her palm and show the piece of carved bronze in her hand. “Oh...right...”

After Frida finishes fishing the precious key back into their hands, the purple mobster compliments her as she comes back with: “Nice save, Frids. Now just hand that little trinket over and I’ll stuff it where the sun don’t shine. Of course I mean down in my-” “No.” the dimensional psychic denies. “What, with it being made of Julian’s power; It ain’t like you got anywhere to put it.” “That’s why I’m counting on Thurs’ hands to keep a grip on it rather than risk it being in your slippery twig fingers.” she explains, putting the key in the young man’s grasp. “Come on, Frida. All these years we’ve worked together, you feel more comfy having him hold onto it than me?” “It’s the fact that I’ve know you for that long is why I’m more confident handing the key to Thurs. He’s proven to be more careful in the short time I’ve known him than you have in the years I’ve been with you.” “Ouch, really twisting the knife there.”

“I ain’t too sure of that, Frida. I mean with my set of psychic powers in particular, you think that-” Thursotte then attempt to bring up. “I’m sure you got this. Just keep it in your pocket and it’ll be alright.” “Hmm...if that’s all I need to do…But how come Sat couldn’t come along? She probably would have been the better pick for this.” “Thought she told you about staying with the new meat to help hone his powers. Guy like that ain’t gonna be much use to us if he don’t know how to pull his own weight.”

Within a room of the safe house, clear of all its furnishings and decorations, the lively psychic paces back and forth before the patiently sitting in front of the former officer; washed and scrubbed clean of stains with fresh clean clothes and a haircut to boot. “So...there really anything else I need to know; I mean beside the bare basics.” Tuesco wonders. “I mean of course there is. It-it’s just I’m not really sure how to go about it is all.” claims Sat. “What do you mean?” “I’m saying that I’m not sure if going over general tips or pointers is the best way to go here.” “That’s it? No kind of intense training with you on my back, Swamps of Dagobah style?” “Well, you can probably guess by now that every psychic power from person to person is wholly unique, so there’s only so much I can do for you before you have to figure out the rest on your own. But, since I was in your position only around several months ago, I thought going through a couple of tricks that helped me out would work with you.” “Great…” he sigh with a hint of sarcasm.

“Right, so…” Satette begins with, pulling out a rose from her dress pocket. “Now that you know what aspect of this world you have under your command, the next step is figuring out how much you can do with it; that typically comes with three factors. Quantity, will, and creativity. Most psychic’s that control physical aspects need to have their element in arms reach to effectively wield it; which shouldn’t be much of a problem for you considering you can solidify air, and air is...pretty much fucking everywhere.” From this does Tuesco take in a deep breath of the air around them before going: “Of course.” “Willpower on the other hand is more of a matter of practice than anything. Calling it simply that might not be it. I think mental fortitude and focus are more accurate in this case. Ideally, you have to get in the mindset of your power being a natural part of you, like getting in the habit of breathing...or I guess using a part of your brain would be more appropriate here.” Sat explains, Tuesco rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, like...think of it like a muscle under your control; the more you work it, the better it’ll be.”

“And creativity?” Tuesco continues with. “That is honestly the most important step. While the limits of how much air you have under your control can widely vary; it is always critical not to think how much of it you can use, but what you can do with how much you got. Like this rose in my hand here.” the lively psychic instructs, presenting the ruby red rose in her hand. “As it stands now, this simple flower is almost next to harmless; really the only thing worth of note being its thorns set along its neck. Not really the best sort of tool one could use. But with a little bit psychic finesse...”

Within the young woman’s grasp, a natural green glow begins to encompass the unassuming flower; Satette’s aura enveloping the piece of flora as it begins to reform its very biological structure. Among its transformation does the neck of the rose stretch out across the young woman’s hands and ravels around her knuckles; the thorn held through the stem facing out from the front of her hand. When the lively psychic dismisses her aura out from the plant, its glow fades away to unveil what she had transformed the rose into; Tuesco left surprised to see the roses stem wrapped around her knuckles as she presents it with: “Boom! Thorn rose knuckles, perfect for leaving behind gashes against whoever wants to mess with you. Or…” Spreading her power through the rose again, Satette commands it to unravel from her hand and instead reform in her grasp; its stem straightening to a tip point as its thorns against lines its neck. “A lacerating dagger; case you want to really dig in whoever you wanna stab with a hearty twist.” she explains twirling the freshly made dagger about. “Uh...ok-okay.” the former officer utters, left mildly disturbed over the young woman’s graphic example. “Or if you wanna leave all of this as a nasty surprise…” Once more does Sat trail her power across the rose forged dagger and starts to remold its very structure to wrap around the wrist; her green power dispelling to reveal the rose having enveloped her arm as the bud of the flower blooms across the back of her hand. “Keep it disguised as a fashionable bracelet, ready to draw the blood of your foes at a moments notice.” “Right...But how is showing all that supposed to help me?” Tuesco then asks. “Well, considering what all you did back in the complex I found you in, and what Wedsle told me about; it sounds like your having trouble trying to construct more complex geometric shapes. So that might be the best place to start with you.”

A quiet grumble seeps out from underneath the man’s breath as the young woman instructing her sits down to tell him: “So remember when I said how you need to focus on what you want the air to be. Lets try making a cylinder around you with that method.” Upon his teachers request, the former officer stands off the floor before he stretches his arms out from both sides; Tuesco’s cerulean blue power seeping out from the palms of his hands as it expands around him. But the further he stretches his aura out to try and surround him and make a cylinder, the more this task strains him; Satette left worried as the man before him show signs of distress and pain. Tuesco can’t even manage to his aura together before it suddenly evaporates, the man himself letting out a pained hiss as he grasps the side of his temple while seething: “Agh! Dammit, my head!” “Oh jeez. I guess your brain ain’t really use to doing something that complex yet. How bout we try something a more small. Maybe like...a cup.” “Ngh...O-okay.” the man sighs, taking his hands off his head to hold one of them out.

Holding the palm of his hand up, the former cop begins to again focus in using his aura to create the very shape Satette wants out from him; his cerulean blue power seeping out and swirling from his palm. Tuesco lets out a small grunt as he concentrates on making his power trap the air into the form he desires, focusing on directing the aura to slowly form into a cup. And after a moment of concentrating his power does his aura finally form into the shape he wishes and commands it to vacuum up and solidify the air within; the former cops blue glow dissipating as he finally forms a cup made from solid air in his hands. Yet when the strenuous process had been said and done, the cup that Tuesco had transformed the very air into was left about as small as a shot glass; a disappointing feet of which starts to get him down.

“Uh...Well I mean, its a start.” Sat attempts to compliment. “I guess so.” groans Tuesco. “Hey, don’t feel too down about it. I had trouble doing bigger stuff when I first started out too. All it takes is some practice and some exercise.” “Like crunches or something?” “What I mean is think of these powers like an added muscle in your body, make sure to treat it well and practice so you can keep that muscle in tip top shape.” “Well, if it really is that simple, then this’d be considered for a toast, don’t you.” the former officer claims, handing the freshly made shot glass of solid air to the young woman. The former officer then takes out a stainless steel flask he pulls out from inside his jacket, unscrewing the cap to pour some liquor in the air made shot glass; the alcohol pour within seemingly floating right above Sats hand as its washes around in the tiny cup.

“What’s the occasion?” she wonder. “I just haven’t thanked you yet for doing all this for me, and I’ve been dong nothing but complain so far. Hoping this’ll at least make up for that. You think so?” After taking a brief moment to stare to her own reflection held in the liquor floating in the invisible cup, the lively psychic shrugs her shoulders and goes: “Eh, why not? 5 p.m somewhere, right?” In one fell swoop, the young woman gulps down the shot of alcohol the same time Tuesco takes a swig out from his flask; the liquor slithering down their throats as smooth as silk.

“Ahh. Whelp, that was exhausting. Same time tomorrow?” the former officer tries to leave with. “Oh no no no no no no. We are far from done here. We just got started” Sat goes, clutching the man’s shoulder. “Huh?” “I don’t really know what it was like in NYPD, but that easy going attitude ain’t gonna be enough anymore. We’ll be dealing with the crime syndicates psychics threatening our lives every single step we go; nearly on a day to day bases, really. So if you have any hopes of getting out of this whole mess alive, the time for taking it easy is over. We gotta kick this psychic training regimen up in high gear if you want to stand a chance. Cause if you don’t, they’ll be people out there more than happy to slit your throat open.” “What!?” “You did a nice job making a shot glass on the first try, so were gonna keep going. We ain’t stopping til you can form an entire plate and bowl set out of the air we breath.” Its upon this that it finally becomes clear to the former officer how much shit he had wound up getting in, the overwhelming realization clear to see on Tuesco’s face as his flask slips out from his hand and falls to the floor. “You’re cleaning that!” they hear Julian demand from a distance.

Taking in all the exquisite and exotic smells wafting through the air, Thursotte lets out a satisfied sigh as he shivers; all before claiming how: “Oh god. Its been so long since I’ve taken in the swelling scent of freshly made Chinese food. Really haven’t had any since I was in collage.” “Oh Thurs, that fucking cheap ass restaurant shit is nothing compared to the finely crafted and well prepared dishes served daily in this little slice of the east. The spices and foods these people get from direct oversea’s imports are the stuff of legends, the kind that people all over this city, hell even this country, to partake in the smorgasbord of exotic foods and the flavors they give. And the people, the dear wonderful people, they have the right idea when it comes to having good times aplenty, the prostitutes that roam the streets of the night can lend you pleasures beyond expectation. I had one that manage with nice tits to shove her finger in my-” Yet before the purple psychic could continue his description any further, Frida, thankfully, lets out a fake cough to grab their attention before she reminds him of how: “Didn’t we come here to scoop for info out here. Not shove food and unmentionables down our throats.” “Right right right! Can’t stay here too long, so lets straight to business and ask around for anything these guys might know.” “What makes you think anyone hear would know about the mob?” Thurs then question. “Because Thurs, exotic foods, spices, and people aren’t the only thing’s that come oversea’s. The crime syndicate of New York has had a long and weathered relationship with the dark and seedy underbelly that migrated from the depths of China. Where do you suppose the mob gets their imports from?”

Just before any of them could speak so much as another word on the matter, there attention is baited by a pained scream that echoes across the other side of the road; the three of them peering over to witness a man that just had wasabi flicked into his eye. Among the stinging pain brought by the famous green spice does the man start to run through the streets and straight into a woman carrying numerous hefty boxes in a towering stack; all of these weighty packages falling onto the poor guy as they slip from the woman’s grasp. “Shit, that sucks.” comments Weds. “What a way to start the day.” Frida claims.

Yet this be not the only series of unfortunate events they witness, as their site trails over towards a mobile food truck that suddenly catches fire; the chefs hair lit ablaze as she tumbles out from within and frantically dashes through the streets. The flaming chef makes a mad dash straight towards a tank filled with water sitting in another booth to swiftly put out her blazing head of hair; this quick solution only leading to more trouble though as she jerks her head back up from the hazy water, surfacing to scream out as several crabs latch tightly onto her face. Both Weds and Frida turn their eyes to the chaos causing psychic after watching these unlucky sequences unfold; Thursotte left surprised upon their unspoken accusation as he defends himself with: “What the-! Y-You think I’m doing this!? Guy’s you can’t even see any sort of aura around; how could this be me?” “Mmmm, true. Plus your kind of chaos is more wide spread and generalized, it ain’t this precise and targeted.” the dimensional psychic backs him up with. “Eh, whatever? We have more important things to worry about then a couple of people having some bad days.” the violet psychic brings the conversation back to.

“Yeah, speaking of. How do you expect to go about finding what we wanna know?” Thurs then questions. “Simple as spittin shit, Thurs. Just ask around.” “To anybody?” “No, not to just any rando out here. Booth vendors, restaurants owners, small shops; basically anyone that had the wrong mind to set up business around this part of town.” Wedsle explains. “Why is that a bad thing? With how much traffic this place seems to keep getting, opening a business here’s might as well be a no brainer.” “And that right there is the reason why the mob thought best to keep a tight grip in this part of the city; the revenue its businesses rakes in alongside the imports they get from here. Chinatown might as well be an unofficial overseas trading route; long as these folks here keep up the supplying, they get to keep their businesses running smoothly, and their lives spared to boot.” adds Frida. “That’s just heinous.”

“Yeah well, that’s just the way the world of crime works; and we’re gonna be taking little tour through this little piece of the east to find ourselves some info we can use against it.” “Which is why our best bet is for you to split?” Wedsle goes and tells Thursotte. “Just me, why!?” “If something goes and happens to Weds and I, we’ll need you to go back to the safe house for backup. Something to keep as an escape plan if things go south while your asking around.” Frida assures. “I don’t know about this guys, what if-” Thurs attempts to ask, rubbing the pocket he kept the key in. Though in the midst of questioning this does he look back to find the two already making their way through the street, both of them turning the corner as Frida assures that: “You got this!” Unbeknownst to either of them, another watches them all split off from afar from the shadows of an alley; a man dressed in yellow and black swirling jacket and pants laced with traces of golden studs. In both of his hands lye a pink, star shaped fruit; its sweet juices dripping onto the concrete as he partakes in its splendor.

A quiet worried groan can’t help but escape from him upon his friends departure, with Thursotte nervously turning over to trek the streets of Chinatown; his mind soon left to ponder which of these numerous businesses that lay out before him, and how to go about questioning for any sufficient information. From the way Wedsle put it, half of the restaurants and stores around here might just be under the mobs jurisdiction. If that’s true, being careful with my words is key; one wrong phrase and this place will be swarming with psychic mobsters before we know it. So Thursotte decides to start off this little quest at the very first indoor shop that he comes across, the sign above show Chinese letters printed across; though one would guess this being some sort of ancient Chinese antique store as the windows show statues and decoration dating back to numerous other dynasties.

The very moment that the young man enters the shop is when his interest perk as he beholds all the other artifacts and statues that line both the walls and the shelves, Thurs left mesmerized among the unique and exotic decorations surrounding him. Statues of serpent like dragons, monks, stone warriors; along with water paintings, chimes, small floral decorations, and robes the likes of which one would be seen wearing around that time. Wow! It’s all so pretty and- Before he could lose himself in the mystique and wonder of these pieces, the young man shakes off his hypnotic trance and slaps both of his cheeks together to regain his composure. Focus, Thurs; this is serious. This isn’t the time to be a tourist. Just ask the guy a couple questions and leave.

Reeling in his amazed wonderment, Thurs waltz right on over to the counter to face the cashier on the other side; an old man dressed in a polo long sleeve shirt and donning a cowboy hat. “Greeting, my friends. I was just in the neighborhood browsing around and heard about where I could hear about some dirt concerning this city’s crime syndicate. You think you know what a guy like me could might wanna hear.” he greets with, putting on a half hearted confident facade. That fake confidants starts to waver however when the owner starts to speak in words that he fails to understand; Thurs compelling the guy to: “Come again?” When speaking once more, the young man is left only more confused as he doesn’t understand a single word that comes out from his mouth; Thursotte simply looking to the owner with a perplexed gaze. The old man lets out a frustrated sigh before he ducks underneath the counter, only to come back up to put a sign written in English onto the counter. “The owner of this establishment understands and speaks exclusively in Chinese. Please translate or make your way to the exit.” it reads. “Oh...Oh no…”

A nervous worry begins to seep into the young man upon this discovery as he comes to realize how he doesn’t understand a single lick of Chinese in the slightest; sweat running down his forehead as she starts to back away from the counter and go: “Uh, well I guess I’ll just leave you back to your business, I hope you have a great day.” Just as he was about to make his way out from the store, Thurs turns around only to wind up bumping into another man wearing a lime green hood; Thursotte continuing to exit out from the shop as he quickly apologizes with: “Sorry!”

After exiting the establishment, the young psychic attempt to keep his thoughts from spiraling as he continues to walk through the streets; all the while he thinks of any other way he could gather information. Just relax, Thurs. This ain’t as big of a roadblock you think it is. So what there might be a couple of people living here that only speak in Chinese, that doesn’t mean everyone here does. I mean this place is rooted in the middle of one of the most famous cities of America, there has to be people around here that speak English. Plus from the way Wedsle put it, some of the shops around here have to know something about the mob. Even if things don’t work out there, I can always just pop back in the safe house and ask Sat and Tues for…for...f-for…

Thursotte’s budding optimism is swiftly cut short when delving into the pocket where he had left the bronze key in; that sense of worry returning as he reaches inside only to feel not a thing tucked in there. This worry ultimately evolves into utter dread when pulling this pocket inside out discover there be nothing inside; the young psychic shuttering as he internally screams within his mind. Where’d it go!? He frantically starts patting around all over his body in searching for the key, digging into his other pockets to check to see if he had misplaced it there instead; but this effort draws no hope for results as Thurs panics. Where’d the key go!? I know I put it in my pocket! I couldn’t have just lost it! It doesn’t make any sense, where could it have- Its in the middle of his internal freak out that he remembers when he was leaving the shop, having bumped into that random man in the lime green hoodie; this soon making him realize what had happened to him. That’s must’ve been it. That guy that bumped into me, he picked it out from my pocket as I was trying to leave.

With a glance back towards the antique shop, Thursotte spots the man in the lime green hoodie making his exit and heading the other way; the young psychic making a frantic bolt towards the guy who he knows picked the key off of him. I didn’t bump into anybody else when I got here! He has to have taken it! When the guy glances back to spot Thurs racing right after him, he almost immediately makes a run for it and speeds through the streets; knocking down whoever may stand in his way. If I don’t get that key back, we’ll end up stuck out here and fresh for the mob to finish off! No matter what, I can’t lose it!

Down a couple more city blocks, Frida and Wedsle casually stroll through the streets of Chinatown and come to the other part of the shopping district; the dimensional psychic feeling a bit weary as she constantly glances back before she goes: “I should’ve went with him.” “Girl, just loosen the chain up already. You sound like one of those fucking know it all helicopter parents.” “Most competent parents wouldn’t leave their kids to ask around for secrets of the mob alone.” “Good thing Thurs isn’t a kid, is he?” “Wedsle!”

“He’ll be fine, Frida. Thursotte isn’t as wet behind the ears anymore. He’s done plenty of feats to prove that he can handle whatever trouble he gets into. Like when he caused that traffic jam to stop that delivery you two intercepted.” “Yeah.” she says. “Or when he took on one of the apostles heavenly knights...think that’s what those larpers called themselves.” “True.” “The time he dragged you through the inside of a crumbling office while being chased by cops.” “Mmhm, alright fine. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to let the kid do stuff on his own. If he can keep that key on him, then I might have nothing to worry about.” “Like you said Frids:  He’s proven to be more careful in the short time you’ve known him than I have in the years you’ve spent with me” the violet psychic calls back to, bringing a little smile to his dimensional merging partner. “So, where the hell in this little slice of the east are you expecting to dig up some dirt?” the dimensional brings the topic back to. “Don’t worry about any of that, I know of ways around here that outta point us to the buried treasure of intel we’re looking for.”

A reassuring thought that the two of them take as they travel deeper into the depths of this oriental piece of the big apple; neither of them aware in the slightest of a third party stalking them from among the crowd of tourists. Out from the countless people does this man watch the two from afar as he finishes chowing down on his piece of fruit. When the man donned in yellow and black finds his supply of star shaped fruit running dry, he breaks his sites away from his pair of pursuits to gauge the people around him; his eyes wondering off towards the side and lock his eyes upon another, a man dressed in a blue tee making his way into a public restroom. A sinister grin stretches across the fruit eating man as he follows after this unsuspecting guy.

Within the private confines of the men’s restroom can the man in the blue tee be seen relieving himself against the urinal; a soft and nearly silent moan escaping from him as he lets all the piss in his bladder out. Its soon after starting that he then sees another man move to the urinal neighboring his, the guys yellow and black bejeweled outfit drawing his eyes over to him. But when this extravagantly dressed guy looks back at him, he quickly jerks his head the other way in hopes of his gawking not being noticed; all the while the man he looks away from seizes his opportunity and reach over towards him. A bright pink aura seeps out from the palm of his hand as the man in yellow and black thrusts his arm into the other man’s side; his victim left utterly comatose as the psychic digs deep into his very being. In just a few more moments does the guy in the bejeweled outfit finally withdraw his arm out from his victims side; reeling from within a bright pink power that begins to take shape before his very eyes. This formless glob of pink power soon takes the shape of a plump glowing star fruit, the exact same kind of star fruit that he had been eating just moments ago.

The man dressed in the blue tee swiftly comes to and gazes down to where he had relieved himself, left shocked when he discovers having urinated down the leg of his pants; an embarrassing unlucky situation that leaves him all the more perplexed as he tucks his dong back in and zips right back up. Away from the urinal does the man then waltz over towards the sink in a bid to wash away the shame of soiling himself, only for the knob to break off as soon as he attempts to turn it; a geyser of water spewing against him as he backs away from the broken sink. Now drenched and cold, he turns to the paper towel dispenser to at least try to dry off; his grief growing when the pulling the lever only for the dispenser to jam. The soaked man is left fed up with it all and simply decides to leave; only to wind up slipping from the water all over the floor and unintentionally knocking over another man trying to come in. Stepping right over these two, the guy donning the yellow and black swirl jacket emerges out from the public restroom with a freshly picked piece of star fruit in his hands, wasting not another moment to bite down upon its soft hide and slurping the juices within; this man venturing back towards where he saw his real pursuits went as he takes another bite.

Struggling grunts and straining breaths echo across the halls of the safehouse as Tuesco continues practicing his newfound psychic powers; Satette watching closely as the former officer attempts to form his cerulean blue aura into that of a big donut. His attempt to make the more complex shape out of the air itself ends rather anticlimactically, as Tuesco is just about to complete the shape before his mental fortitude crumbles; his aura dissipating as the stress inflicted becomes far too much for him to handle and nearly collapses as a result. Sat immediately rushing over to his side as he fumbles against the wall; helping him up as she asks: “Tues, you alright?” “I think so. Only feel light headed. Did you used to feel like this when you first became a psychic?” “Yeah, but don’t worry. The more you get used to it, those constant headache’s will practically be nonexistent.” “Thing is, I don’t really wanna get used to this. The moment a way out for me comes, I’m getting out of this city as fast as possible.”

“I ain’t got a problem with that, but the others might say otherwise.” “What, they’re gonna force me to do their bidding?” “Eh, not so much force, more like exploit. Long as the mob has as tight of a stranglehold on this city, the chances of you making it out of New York in one piece are pretty nonexistent; and Wedsle knows that. I’m afraid you have no other option but to work with us on this if you plan on escaping.” “God dammit.” frowns Tuesco, crossing his arms. “That’s really the reason why we’re going through this whole psychic crash course. You want out, you got work for it. And to work for it, you gotta be up to snuff. Cause if you ain’t, you won’t be making it out of this city, at least with your life.” Satette elaborates. “Years of work on the force and in short of a week, I’m reduced to nothing but a henchman.” “Not much of a difference if you ask me. Only which side you play on.”

With a muffled rumble seeping out from between his lips, the former officer simply keeps listening as Satette continues their training by instructing to: “Now part of wielding your psychic powers is to get in the habit of treating it like an extension of yourself. Like I said before, you have to get in the mindset of believing you can solidify air is as easily as you can breathe… Which is pretty ironic in this case, isn’t it?” “And how do recon I do that?” “Well, how other people go about that can vary, but something that usually helps me is visualizing what I want my power to do. And something tells me that your already halfway there, considering how you could easily make basic geometric shapes.” “But I’ve been trying just that, and all I’ve been getting back is nothing but splitting headaches.” “Probably because you haven’t gotten fully immerse in that mindset yet. I mean, you just now realized you can control your powers a few days ago when you’ve had them for around a month. So, to that end, we’re gonna be doing some mental exercises.” “What like taking a test or something?” “Kind of.”

Upon approaching her waiting pupil, the lively young psychic takes Tuesco’s hand holds it up to him as she says: “You’re hand right here, I want you to visualize what it looks like in your mind; think you can do that?” “Of course I can, I’m not stupid.” “Good, since it’s so easy, I want you to close your eyes and put both of them behind your back.” Like she instructs him to do, Tuesco shuts his eyes and takes both of his hands behind his back, then hearing her tell him to: “Now, think about what your hand looked like to you in that moment; think of the air surrounding you as like that very arm and use it to focus on bring that mental picture to light.” “What’s that even mean?” he can’t help but ask “Uh...O-okay, so you know how in Kindergarten around November, the teacher has them all make turkeys by putting their hand over the paper and tracing it. Think of it like that, except with air instead of blueberry scented markers.” This visualization exercise set upon him, Tues takes in a calming deep breath before he begins to make a picture in his mind him putting his hand over a piece of paper; imagining a marker swirling along the outline of his hand as he keeps his thoughts focused. And though he starts to feel the same headaches coming on as he did before, the freshly new psychic fights through the encroaching migraine and holds his thoughts steady to finish picturing himself drawing the turkey.

Once he successfully finishes this mental exercise, he then wonders aloud: “Did...did it work?” “Why don’t you feel over and find out?” he hears the young woman suggests. Like she tells him to, Tuesco takes his hands out from behind his back and reaches over to feel if his visualization exercise had work; sparks of joy surging through him as he feels the palm of his hand slide up a smooth cylinder. Moving his hand up to the top of this cylinder is he astonished to feel what resembled a hand, running his fingers across its own. “Is this...Did I do it?” he utters. “Open your eyes and see.”

From the young woman’s simple suggestion, Tuesco opens his eyes to behold his own hand caressing the very air he solidified, feeling this piece of air taking the same shape he had pictured in his mind. Fingers, palm, even the arm, the new psychic had successfully recreating his own arm with nothing but the air around them; a feet of which he was amazed to have pulled off. “It worked…I actually did it!” “I mean the hand feels less detailed than it should be, but this still is a fantastic start. You keep doing stuff like this and you’ll be able to make way more than just an arm.” Satette proclaims. “You think so?” “I know so. Now lets keep it up. Lets see what else you can make doing that visual exercise.”

Through the residential streets of Chinatown, the psychic of Murphy’s law continues his pursuit after the lime hoodie wearing man that pilfered the key back to the safehouse from his pockets; both of them swerving around the people in the streets as they hurry. The mob isn’t gonna waste any time when they realize we’re here; so I can’t let this guy get away with the key. Like swimming in the middle of the ocean with hungry sharks encircling us, we’ll be stranded out in the middle of the city just waiting for them to pluck us out. When coming up towards the end of the concrete walkway, Thursotte is left concerned as the man dressed in lime refused to slow down when nearing a road filled with busy traffic; the vehicles dashing through showing no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. He’s not stopping! The guy’s gonna get run over! But just when the man was at the very end of the walkway does he suddenly make a bounding leap to the wall next to him and starts to scale up its brickwork; Thursotte rushing to try and catch up to him before he climbs out from reach. Yet by the time he makes it to the end, his thief has climbed far too high for him to reach up towards and can only watch as the man in the lime green coat scale up to the glazed tiled rooftop.

But when making it near the top of the building, the traditional Chinese rooftop prevents the pickpocket from ascending any further; stuck at the top of the buildings corner searching for a way out. A glance around each side of the corners reveal the windows left sealed shut, refusing to budge no matter how much he tries to force his way in. At least it seems like he’s stuck up there. Just need something to knock him down and- wait, what is he doing? From the tippy top of the building, the man reaches over towards the rooftops bottom corner before he kicks off the wall; the thief making a daring leap to grasp at the black wire attached to the end of the roof. Like a hung strand of rope held across a chasm, the pickpocket starts to shimmy across towards the other side of the street. Climbing across the electrical wire!? He’s out of his mind! That snaps under his own weight as he might as well be fried. Though to his surprise does the lime green thief prove to be more nimble than he suspects as he has little trouble moving across the electric wire; like a man of the jungle swinging across the length of a vine, he swings his arms up around to clutch the black piece of rope as he shimmies closer and closer towards the other side. Oh, man. If he makes it to the other side, there ain’t no way I’m finding him again. Need some way to knock him off.

Its in frantically thinking of a way to bring his pickpocket back down to earth, Thurs’ eyes fix to the very wall that the lime green thief had climbed up from; the young man making a nervous gulp when realizing what has to be done. I really hope this doesn’t turn out too bad. Left with next to no other option presented to him, the chaos triggering psychic takes a moment to back away from the wall before he makes a daring charge towards its brickwork; Thursotte coating his leg in his orange aura as he lunges out to deliver a full force kick against the corner of the building. The very first thing that the he feels after kicking the corner of the building is the spainful sensation that course up from his foot and up his leg; the young man hissing from the pain as he kneels down and rubs the top of his foot. Agh, god! Okay, probably didn’t have to kick it.

Among seething from his bruised foot, he looks back towards the wall to find his orange power slithering up the building; the walls very brickwork cracking up as his aura envelopes the corner in its glow. And its from these newly forming cracks that the piece of corner breaks off from the rest of the building and tumbles down towards the busy road. Several of the cars forced to slamming down on their breaks as the pillar of broken bricks threatens to crash down on top of them, with the other cars behind them stopping in a pile up. Along with that corner of the building, the part of the roof with the electric cable attached breaks right off to plummet down with the rest of the debris; the lime green man hanging on the wire holding on tight as he swings towards the other side of the street. Yet rather than making a clean landing onto the walkway, the thief winds up face planting right into the next building before fumbling down the pavement.

The resulting dust soon settles to show what remains of the buildings broken off corner piled up across the road, blocking any of the other cars from crossing the mess of jagged broken bricks; a risk that none of the drivers dare tempt to take for fear of popping their tires. With the rushing traffic congested to a standstill, the path to the other side of the street is finally safe to cross; an opportunity that Thursotte is swift to take when seeing the pickpocket awaken from his stupor, the young man making a dash across the road. The lime green thief quickly recovers from his daze to find the guy he stole from furiously racing after him; the pickpocket leaping up off the ground to make a mad dash through more of the streets as his pursuer shouts: “Get back here, you!”

Down the recesses of one of Chinatown’s alleyways, a guy fumbles against one of its cold brick walls when pushed by none other than the purple mobster himself; Wedsle throwing his bike over before staring the guy down with an intimidating grin as he watches the man struggle to pick himself off the floor. “I only have about 5 dollars on me, I swear! P-please don’t hurt me!” this man desperately pleads. “Easy there, buddy. We ain’t here for anything like that, what I want out of you is a little more personal.” “Oh...Oh god...Not like this, not here.” the guy shivers reaching down to unzip his pants. “Oh my god, put your fucking pants back on, I ain’t doing that! Not in a dirty alley, at least.” Weds protests. “Then what you want from me?” “All were wanting out of your cute little mouth is a little intel; nothing too demanding, just if you’ve seen anything weird around town. “Li-Like what?”

“Eh, come on. A delivery boy like you’s has to have wound up stumbling upon a couple of dubious and gruesome scenes in your short quote on quote “Career”. Wound up unexpectedly seeing something you weren’t supposed to in the mind numbing daily grind for less than 15 an hour? Hmm?” “No no no no no no! I-I can’t! Those guys have eyes and ears almost everywhere, if they catch wind of any witnesses, who know’s what they’ll do to me!” A threatened chill runs down the delivery boy’s spin as the purple psychic leans down upon him; the sensation of panic and fear coursing through his veins as his purple eyes lean closer and closer, all the while the violet man claims how: “Well, believe me, my pants pissing pal. Whatever those guys plan on doing to you, I promise I’ll do something a dozens times worse if you don’t squirt your sweet sweet information for me.” “Eh heee...D-I! I don’t know a lot about it, but I’ve seen some real weird people lurking around there; particularly around Broadway. Saw some of them come in to some of the stores near the very top city block, then come right back out with huge boxes and bags. I don’t know what’s in them, and I don’t wanna know.” “Any names?” “A-a couple. Sometimes in the laundry mat, other times in the herbal store; I even saw them go in a gift shop one time on a late night. Just please don’t hurt me, that’s all I know!”

“See, that wasn’t so hard. I get the information I need, and you get to keep your teeth. Everyone wins.” states Wedsle, leaning away from the frightened man before he starts to stroll back to the end of the alley with his partner waiting. “Th...that’s it? That’s all you wanted? You’re not gonna do anything to me?” the delivery boy questions as he stands back up. “Nah, don’t really feel like getting my kicks whipping a guy like you down...Unless you might be into it.” “What!? No! Jus-just leave me alone!” he staunchly objects. “Hey, you’re loss.” the purple psychic claim as both he and the woman with him make their exit.

Letting out all the shuddering sensations that had been bubbling from this frightening encounter, the meager delivery boy is left to pick up his bike and head towards the other side of the alleyway; letting out a shuttering sigh before saying out loud: “Why do I always run into these kinds of people.” “Might be because of your line of work.” he then hears somebody suggests, glancing back up to discover a man in a yellow and black bejeweled jacket staring him down. The terror he felt just moments ago starts to worm its way back into the delivery guy as this man begins to slowly approach; blocking the only way out from the alley as he hears this man tell him the morbid fact of how: “You know the chances of dying on the job are higher for a delivery boy than a police officer, right? It’s pretty damn bad being stuck in a dead end job like that already; having those statistics over your heads might as well be unlucky.”

The Northwestern part of this exotic oriental piece of the big apple being their next stop, the two former mobsters make their way back into the market district towards its other end; Wedsle taking a big whiff of the countless scents and spices wafting from the unique assortment of dish. “Man, feels like such a tease coming here without getting a bite to eat. You want to unload all that flavor in your mouth, but they just keep pulling away the moment you try and have a taste. Its fucking torturous, dammit!” he laments. “Ain’t like we could afford any of this anyway. The targets hanging on our heads alongside what little cash we have; we can’t risk going around blowing it all on whatever meal gives you any food erection. Every single cent counts for us at this point.” explains Frida. “I know. It just sucks going through here knowing that.” “If you have such a stick up your ass about it, why didn’t you rob that guy you were shaking down for info? Pretty sure those 5 bucks could gotten you something.” “Nah, guy stuck in a shitty job like that needs every cent he can scrounge up. All I’d be getting from the bowl of udon I could buy is a bad taste in my mouth.”

In the middle of this discussion, their attention is beckoned towards a commotion going on at a stand next to them; one of the customers letting out a frightened scream when one of the dumplings she had put in their mouth unfolds. The piece of dough breaks open to unleash a whole swarm of baby spiders that crawl out from the woman’s open mouth; the unfortunate woman frantically flailing and running about in a terrified panic. Among her hysterical racing, the woman winds up running straight into another booth and winds up toppling it all down, all of it falling right on top of her. “Jesus!” Weds utters. “Lotta people around here having pretty bad days, huh?” comments Frida. “I don’t know if it’s as simple as that. One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, three is a pattern. So what would that make four?” “You think this stuff’s happening deliberately, through some kind of psychic?” “It explain a helluva lot.” “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why screw with random people instead of coming after us?” Just when the two were pondering of this strange phenomenon, another discovery then creeps upon them as they comes to find the delivery boy they had spoken to before; moaning in pain as he lays against the fire hydrant with his own bent up bike entangling his body. “Psychic or not, something definitely happening around here. The kind of luck you gotta have to end up like this. God.” claims Weds.

“It’s not like he had much of it to begin with anyway.” the two then hear another state. Towards where this comment had been voice, both of them swiftly glance aside to witness a man dressed in a jacket of swirling black and yellow approaching the injured delivery boy; a star shaped fruit no bigger than his palm resting in his hand shinning with a bright pink luminescence. “Kid barely had any of it left to spare. I mean just look at him, whats worse than getting in such a nasty crash entangle in your own damn bike. Real sad. Still…” Shuffling the small piece of fruit to his thumb, he flicks the star up into the air and sends it plummeting right into his open mouth; a potent pink aura enveloping his body as he chews upon the fresh produce. “A man like me’s gotta take what he can get. Especially when he’s stuck with dealing with the likes of you backstabbers.”

When the two of them realize what the man before them was referring to, Frida is quick to the draw as she delves into her denim jacket to pull out her trusty piece; the dimensional psychic wasting no time to pull the trigger as soon as the gun was aimed towards his head. Yet the very moment the dimensional psychic fire her weapon is her aim suddenly thwarted as a ball comes bouncing right out of nowhere and hits her hand; the bullet misfiring directly into the window of a nearby restaurant. “Dammit!” she curses, aiming back towards the man to try her luck again. This time however is she can’t even to so much as fire her weapon as the trigger inexplicably jams, refusing to budge no matter how much she tries to pull on it.

Before the young woman could do so much as attempt to pull out another gun from her jacket, the man in yellow and black suddenly makes a dashing lunge towards the two of them; a move that the two react to almost immediately as Frida delves down into the 2nd dimension of the ground, leaving Wedsle to take the brunt of this tackling charge head on. His aura flaring and his stance steady, Wedsle has no problem standing against this new foe both physically and supernaturally; the purple psychic holding the man back with little trouble as he taunts the guy with: “The head on approach? Not gonna lie, respect the balls on ya; but you sure that’s the wisest move?” “Maybe not. But I got something no smarts can measure up to.” the yellow and black wearing man brags.

When the violet mobster attempts push back against his foe, he feels something squish beneath the bottom of his shoe and swiftly peers down to find himself having stepped in a mess of spilled noodles; the spoiled pile of noodles causing him to slip up. The lucky opportunity presented to him, his fortunate foe pushes Wedsle over and sends him crashing into the empty stand behind him; the entire booth trembling as he fumbles right over its counter. Inside this booth, the purple mobster is quick to discover the rickety rack of kitchen knives left hanging above; the entire set falling right off their hinges and plunging down at him. Wedsle rolls right off to the side in evading their deadly sharp ends, with the edges of these knives however managing to graze the back of his head. Rolling right out from the kitchen knife selling stand, the purple psychic glares to the guy that had tackled him back, posturing with an abundance of smug pride as he boastfully how: “The luck of Novelle Iboni isn’t something to take lightly. You mess with me, you’ll wind up on the short end of lady luck wrath.”

During this bodacious posturing, the dimensional psychic scuttles up the side of the closest building before partially emerging out from its brick face with her weapon; Frida being given another chance to snipe their foe as she takes aim towards the back of his head. Dumbass, taking us head on and bragging about your powers! You practically signed your own death warrant! Her aim holding true, the gun woman takes another shot against the man standing beneath her; pulling the trigger to let the bullet fly. Unfortunately is her shot is not as honest as she hoped, for a food truck passing by ends up blocking her at the very last moment, ricocheting her bullet slightly to send it zooming right by Novelle’s head. Feeling the wayward bullet zip right by him, the man in yellow and black looks up towards the dimensional psychic with surprise at first; that astonishment quickly fading back to a confidently smug grin. It was almost he was silently mocking the gun woman for her poor attempts to take his life. What the hell was that!?

Rapid footsteps reach his ears from behind and alert the lucky psychic of his purple adversary making a charging assault directly from behind; Novelle casually turning around to find the violet traitor coming at him with a sharp kitchen knife. In one swift motion does Wedsle plunge the knife directly into his foes stomach, feeling the blade sink into the man’s abdomen; yet to his worry does the guy fail to so much as flinch, much less let out any sort of pained outcry. Wedsle quickly pulls back with the sharp dagger handle still in hand; the blade breaking right off its hinge as he rapidly retreat. The purple psychic is left even further perplexed when finding the blade not having dug as deep into the man as he had felt; rather instead left stuck wedge against something hard hidden underneath the guy’s jacket. After prying the blade off his person, Novelle lifts up a part of his jacket to show off the blade having not plunged into his stomach, but rather had been stopped by a gold platted belt buckle donning a mural of the Las Vegas strip; the face of the buckle left with nothing but a scratch. “Fucking cheap ass Chinese knockoffs!” the violet traitor shouts, throwing the knife handle down on the ground.

Trying his luck with the poorly made kitchen knife, Novell casually tosses the broken sharp edge out at the purple psychic; Wedsle effortlessly evading the knife blade without so much as any forethought. Weds puts in as much thought in charging straight after the pink aura psychic, paying little mind to the blade careening off towards another booth behind him; the blunt end of the knife bouncing right off the top of a drum set to be sent flying overhead. At the peek of its ascent is the blade then plunged right into the body of a passing pigeon, one that delves down towards the dimensional psychic peeking out from the wall; Frida left too distracted attempting to aim at their foe once again to see the bird plummeting down towards her. The dead sparrow ends up slamming against the side of the gun woman’s shoulder, the tip of the blade running through the bird cutting across her arm enough to make her aim flinch.

As she retches from the cut inflicted upon her arm, her aim shift ever so slight off from her intended target as she pulls the trigger; the bullet zipping right past the man in yellow and black and straight into the leg of her purple partner, Novelle moving right out of the way as Wedsle trips down from the piece of led shot in his leg. “Frida, what the fuck?!” “I-I didn’t- I mean I didn’t even...What-what the fuck!? What’s going on today!?” “Is it drilling in both of your heads yet? As long as the visage of lady fortune smiles upon me, neither of you can land even a scratch.” gleefully declares Novelle, raising his foot to try and stomp down upon the downed purple psychic.

The purple psychic rolls right out from harms away before the lucky psychic could stomp down his shot shin, swiftly scuttling over towards the building his dimensional partner climbs down from; both of them coming together as they face down the man they failed to dispatch. “Okay, direct approach ain’t working. Any other bright idea’s?” the gun woman questions. “I can only think of one right now. Hate even think of it, but its our only ticket out. See that crack in the wall there.” the violet psychic brings attention to, Frida glancing over to find a sizable crack held along the brickwork. “Oh. I see what your getting at.”

“Whatever you two are planning, it ain’t gonna work. Any sort of game strategy you got cooking up against me is guarantee to fail, long as the winds of probability are blowing my way.” Novelle proclaims, making a daring lunge towards the two of them. “Good thing you ain’t part of our plan then.” states the purple psychic, clutching the hand of the woman behind her as she merges into the wall. Before the pink aura psychic could reach either of them, Frida drags her purple partner into the second dimension with her as she scurries over to the aforementioned crack in the wall; the two wasting not a second to escape into the crevice and slipping away from their lucky adversary. “Jeez. Don’t know weather to chalk that up as quick thinking or just plain luck.” the man growls. Yet his demeanor starts to turn around when glancing aside to witness a family of four rushing into the confines of a nearby home; Novelle cracking a wicked grin as he takes this moment of his targets escaping and turns it around with: “Though I might want to take a minute to browse around to see if I can harvest some real plump crops.”

Echoing through the halls of the safehouse could the sound of Tuesco’s strenuous grunts be heard as Satette watches him attempt to form his cerulean aura into the shape of a broadsword; the former officer struggling to finish constructing the blade of the weapon. Tues just barely able to create the sharp tip of the sword before his concentration shatters and his power dissolves, the air solidifying psychic falling to the floor as he clutches his head, hissing from the headache resulting from this exercise. “Gaaah...Dammit!” “You were doing so good. You almost had it.” Satette praises him. “Doesn’t feel like it. Swear it feels like my heads about to split in half from all this.” “And that my friend is what we call progress. Like how you do a whole crazy ass work out routine in the gym; and then the next day, all the pain and strain hits you all at once. Like I keep saying, its like working out a muscle.” “Can I give my brain muscle a bit of a break then. Swear I’ve went through 5 headaches in the past 4 hours.” “Eh, a break probability sounds good right about now. Lets take a peek in the kitchen and see what we can raid from the fridge.” she suggests.

One look to the kitchen is all it takes to leave the lively psychic baffled of the state it had been left in; the rubble and scorch marks left behind after their ordeal escaping from its inferno still plainly evident to see. The sink broken, the cabinets torn up, the floor cracked, the stove bent up; the collateral damage the kitchen had suffered from was on disaster levels of destruction. “Wow. Julian wasn’t kidding around. Seems like you boys did a real number on this place and multiplied that by pi.” she somewhat jests. “I was about just as baffled. To think that Thurs did all this just by tossing around a little pebble.” “Thought he did this. Practically has Thursotte’s name written all over it. I mean part of the sink is lodged in the oven; not sure how else somebody could realistically do that.” “I just hope the fridge is still in tact.” Tues wonders, strolling over to the refrigerator. Clutching the handle to the fridge, Tuesco stands aside as he swings the door wide open; bracing himself for the loud banging barrage of guns like he did last time. Yet the former officer is a tad perplexed when hearing not even a click go off, Tues peeking into the fridge to find all the firearms stuffed within replaced with a wide selection of food and drinks. “Oh.” he utters. “What?” “Nothing, blushes the former officer.

Within another part of the safehouse do both Sat and Tues left sitting side by side among the edge of a comically long dinning table boasting about 25 feet across the room; the numerous chairs set along this table left baron and empty. The lively psychic takes a satisfying bite out of the sandwich in her hands, moaning over the delectable meats and cheese set between the soft pieces of wheat bread; admitting how: “Never tasted anything this good before. The cheese seriously just melts in your mouth; and the meat, the flavor just pops!” “I remember packing stuff like this for lunch about every other day for work. I think its just regular sliced barbecue pork.” “Really. Never had that.” “Never?” “Nope. All my dad was really able to afford for us was dollar generic brand bologna. None of the other fancier deli stuff.” she admits. “How poor were you guys?” “I-I mean for fuck’s sake. I used to steal stuff for other people as a living before all this.” “You couldn’t find another place to work?” “Nothing else made enough money. I could barely afford rent. And I got just enough for the bare necessities on a good day.” “Really? I made enough working with the police to get by and then some.” “That’s cause your working with the police; not to mention a lot of that line of work is seeped in corruption; especially with the NYPD.” “I...Gah! Not all of it was.” the former officer objects.

“How long were you working with them again?” “About a couple decades or so.” “And in that whole time, you didn’t find anything sus about it all?” “Um...Well I mean there were a couple things that threw me off. Like the security at the station was strangely uptight, especially around the cells. But I just brushed that off as wanting to be safer than sorry with our prisoners.” “If they wanted that, they could’ve sent those guys to actual prisons instead of blowing their overinflated budgets on suping the place up. I mean what kind of people you got kept in there to warrant that sort of muscle?” “Uh...Dr-drug traffickers…” Tuesco meekly admits, this fact drawing out a contemptuous glare from the woman beside him. “Okay, knowing what I do now in retrospect, its obvious. But that doesn’t mean everyone there was morally bankrupt.”

“How many people on the force did you personally knew?” she then moves on to ask. “Well I mean, you’ve met Martin. Guy was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend around that line of work, and I didn’t even suspect he was this deep in it all.” “Tuesco, it doesn’t matter if you knew some people there were objectively morally standing people; the institution itself is mired with the mob’s business. A couple of upstanding people in the system isn’t enough to transform a system rotten to its core.” “But I...I can’t believe that. I don’t think your lying, but I refuse to accept the organization I worked with for half my life, an organization meant to impede criminal activity and guard the lives of everyday people, were cooperation alongside one of the biggest criminal syndicates of New York. It-it-it-it…” Tuesco states, letting out a weary sigh at the end of his rant. Nothing but a worrying silence is all that wafts through the dinning hall air as Satette fails to find the words she need to comfort the former officer of these newfound revelations; Tuesco himself ultimately rising from his seat and making his way out. “I need a minute.” he demands. “Tues, wait…” Sat attempts to draw him back with, her words falling on deaf ears as the air solidifying psychic shuts the door behind him. An upset groan can’t help but seep out from under the lively young woman’s breath as she see’s what attempting to tackle the man’s biases had ended up; Sat glaring down to the half eaten sandwich he had left behind.

A ways into the depths of China Town sits a small, but calming and serene natural park; holding a sizable landscape the likes of which people and pets frolic and relax upon the freshly kept grass. Beside this open plain of grass stood some basketball and tennis courts, free for anyone wishing to play these respective sports for exercise or just simple fun; all while the children they bring can occupy themselves at the playgrounds installed between these courts. And among these recreational activities do dozens of tree’s stand surrounding this little slice of nature, further boasting this park as a break from the regular urban scenery, even with how minuscule it stood compared to the other parks through the city.

A small group of people within the basketball court casually, runs around and dribble the ball from one end of the court to the next. It was as normal and fun as a round of basketball can be among the fresh air surrounding the crowd. Yet this isolated game of basketball is rudely interrupted when a man donned in a lime green hoodie leaps out from the side of the court and cuts straight through both teams while swiping the ball away; all of them glancing back where this guy came from when they hear: “Just stop already!”

Following after the hooded man does Thursotte make a bounding leap right over the bushes and straight through the basketball court; careful not to bump into any of the players as he slithers by. During this chase across the court, the lime hooded thief chucks the basketball he swiped at his pursuer in hopes of tripping him up; Thurs instead catching the ball and infusing it with his power before throwing it back towards its sender. Though the runaway pickpocket manages to evade the basketball tossed back at him, the ball keeps on bouncing all the way towards the edge of the court before slamming against the base of the hoop; the rusty steel holding the hoop up bending in a way to make it collapse under its own weight. Just as the runaway thief was reaching the other side of the court, the along the end tumbles down like a falling tree, crashing down before the hooded thief and cutting his swift escape a little short. Among this sudden scare does Thursotte tackle the lime hooded pickpocket against the board of the hoop, frisking around to try and pull the bronze key he stole off him. But the thief soon breaks away from his grasp and pushes Thurs off, hoping over the knocked over hoop before darting out from the court and deeper into the small park; the young man he stole from failing to waver as he bolts after him.

The parks playground is thankfully baron of any children anywhere in site as both Thursotte and the pickpocket he chases after dart towards one of the playground equipment; the chaos triggering psychic scooping up a load of pebbles of the countless that litter the playground. Thursotte throws out the fistful of rocks at his runaway thief in hopes of slowing him down, but sees the pickpocket leaping right up to the top of the slide to evade the scattering collection of stones. Yet the power that Thurs had put with the bunch of rocks he had tossed over starts to immediately work its magic as the thief tries to slide down to the bottom; the thin sheet metal making up the slide falling apart underneath him. Despite being tripped up by the slide breaking under him, the lime hooded pickpocket frantically shoving the pieces off to flee from his pursuing victim; the two darting away from the broken slide and head straight over towards an all in one piece of playground equipment.

Watching the thief leap up the small set of plastic steps at the start of a whole playground system, Thursotte scoops up another handful of pebbles from the ground as he pursues after; the accident triggering psychic throwing out aura infused one rock at time rather than all at once. And though these pebbles might not boast as much size, their potential to deliver just as much chaos is evident as one clonks against one of the loose screw holding the first part of the playground equipment; the piece of equipment falling apart as the pickpocket races across the bridge connecting the second. Rushing away from the collapsing bridge, the lime hooded thief quickly climbs towards the top of the combo playground equipment; gazing down to the man he had stolen from to see what he does next.

Rather then toss another pebble straight at the pickpocket, Thurs instead throws some of them out towards the right of the piece of equipment; the small rocks beating down against the plastic support beams holding the structure up. Before the runaway thief could take this way over, the plastic support beams give away and cause that part of the system to collapse and cutting out the lime hooded thief’s escape. Having isolated the pickpocket in the middle of the top of the broken playground system, Thurs throws out the rest of the pebbles in his grasp all over what was left standing of the piece of equipment; the rocks beating against the loose screws and bent pieces of plastic to make the structure tremble. Feeling the piece of equipment he stand on about to collapse, the wily thief jumps off the playground system before it falls apart and makes a rough landing; rolling in the dirt before making a dash away from the accident causing psychic.

Out from the playground and straight through the rest of the park, the lime hooded pickpocket dashes across the treeline of the open fields, weaving around the trees in his way in hopes of throwing the man he robbed from off his tail. Thursotte however does not waver in his pursuit and continues to chase after the pickpocket across the edge of the park, leaping off to break off a couple of their loose branches for ammunition. Instilling these branches with his own brand of Murphy's law, the young man throws them like javelins up towards the tree’s ahead of the thief; the leaves rustling around as a couple of squirrels come tumbling out to land upon the runaway thief. The pair of squirrels frantically scampers all over the pickpocket as he continues to scurry away, the lime hooded man flailing around in an effort to get the two rodents off his person.

His pickpocket foe left distracted, Thurs tosses out another branch into the trees above to disturb something that could stop the runaway thief; yet the second time around isn’t as fruitful as the first, for out from the tree line tumbles what appeared to be a flock of pigeons that swoop down to harass the young psychic instead. Among his panic does Thursotte accidentally bestow his power into the rats with wings as both he and the thief scurry towards the temple at the end of the park, the two blindly racing right into the inside of the small oriental building. Glass shattering, wood breaking, walls crashing, and bells chiming wildly in their rapidly escalating game of cat and mouse, Thurs and the pickpocket he pursues quickly racing out of the temple and out from the Chinese park; the building they leave behind splitting apart from the resulting discord. A defiling accident that leaves the park goers in utter shock and dread.

Among the other end of the local Chinese marketplace, shoppers and shop owners alike remain weary as they go about their usual business; the ruckus heard from the other side of the lane alongside the patrolling police officers leaving everyone on edge. Unbeknownst to the dozens of tourists and stand owners wandering the streets, there lies a unique predator among them; one that stalks its potential victims in an effort to harvest their good fortune in plain site. Casually waltzing through the street market does Novell, the man dressed in yellow and black swirls, scout for potential prey as he finishes off the last of a star shaped fruit; his bright pink aura flourishing as he partakes in its plump juices.

Its among scouting for his next victim that he comes to a lonely booth manned by an elderly woman; this senior   holding numerous glassware and decoration hung and displayed all around her, the old woman’s expression lighting up as she sees the man approach. “Welcome, welcome, welcome; take a look through my many glass sculptors and decorations. Many of these figures were lovingly handcrafted by yours truly; sculpted after the mythical yokai and demons hailing from Chinese mythology. Why not take one home to set on your mantel, or your nightstand; waking up every morning to this guy’s watchful eye.” the stand owner attempt to sell with, presenting a frightening glass visage before her customer. “Ahh! Ah! N-no thanks. I uh, I actually had my eye in that dragon you have back there.” the lucky psychic claims, pointing towards a serpent like dragon set along the back shelf. “Oh! I see you’re a man of unique tastes! The symbol of the dragon is one of the 12 zodiac signs of my home country foretold to bring forth fortune and luck to those under its year. Me thinks your chances of heralding such boons are likely possessing such a mythical figure.” “Really? What a lucky find. How much you asking for it?” “70 dollars.” the elderly woman firmly states.

“70! Damn, a little steep don’t you think?” he questions. “My figurines are a one of a kind item that no other sculptor can give you, and that dragon in particular wasn’t easy to make; so I hope you understand how I ask for such a price.” “Hmm, shame. And here I imagined putting it on display in my living room for special occasions for a nice conversation starter, asking me where I had procured such a finely crafted piece in hopes of any similar decorations. Surely that word of mouth would bring about more customers to your unjustifiably desolate business.” the psychic states, his faux lamenting breaking down the booth owners wavering stubbornness. “Mmm...Fine. How does 50 sound to you?” she soon gives in with. “That’s the spirit.” Novelle goes, watching gleefully as the old woman takes the glass dragon off the shelf.

Presenting the decoration before, the psychic of luck slides the money she requests for the piece onto the counter; the old woman handing the glass statue over to the man as she states how: “May this piece bring good fortune in your life.” “Oh don’t worry.” Once resting the statue in the man’s grasp, a deep piercing sensation surges across her midsection; the elderly woman’s eyes glowing alight as Novelle reaches into her very being. “I feel like its my lucky day.” The man bejeweled in yellow and black swiftly jerks his hand out from the woman’s stomach to extract a plump piece of star fruit out from her very being; a violating act of which she is left unaware of as her consciousness starts to return. Regaining her composure, the old woman is left confused as she watches her latest customer waltz away from her stand with not just the glass dragon, but a strange piece of fruit he begins to chomp down on. “What...what was I doing again?” she ponders, backing away towards the shelves holding the other figures. The old woman mistakenly backs away too fast and bumps right into the shelves hard enough to knock over the screws holding it up, spilling all the sculptures and figures upon her in a shattering glass avalanche; an unlucky cascade of which causes the rest of the booth to collapse on top of her, with nothing to remain but glass shards and pieces of the stand left scattered.

Perched atop a nearby rooftop, both Frida and Wedsle gaze down in awe upon witnessing this disastrous streak of terrible luck that had doomed the lonely glass sculptor; crawling back up into hiding as they bare the knowledge behind their foe’s abundance in good fortune. “Christ.” the dimensional psychic utters. “I know...You think he’d pull out faster with an old lady.” “Wedsle!” “Yeah, your right. Kind of weird how he’s in one to begin with, isn’t it.” “This is serious, dammit! We got somebody we can’t so much as touch hunting us down. As long as he’s stuffing his face on those fruits he keeps pulling out of people; our chance of even landing a hit on him might as well be next to zero.” “Believe it, I hear you. Which is why I got myself a little bit of a plan cooking up here.” the violet psychic claims, tapping on the side of his forehead. “And that is?” “This dick’s only after us? So we just gotta bait him in a situation where his good fortune can work in our favor.” “What does that even mean?”

Contrast to the string of bad luck his victims had been inflicted with, Novelle proves as happy as can be while inspecting the uniquely crafted glass dragon he had just purchased; his overwhelming supply of stolen fortune saving him for what would be numerous tragic accidents. When he was about to step on an open manhole, a plank of wood conveniently steps underneath his foot to save him from the fall. When a runaway tire is but moments away from rolling him down, taking a couple more steps is all it takes for the round rubber tire to just miss him. Once does he wind up slipping on a piece of discarded banana peel and is sent flipping back, but is soon saved as he unintentionally lands against the side of another person passing right by and rolls right over to land back on his feet, all the while the dragon he had just bought comfortably lands in his grasp. Each of these close calls he doesn’t even bat an eye towards, his casual attitude from it all further cementing how untouchable he felt.

And its during this incredible streak of luck that he narrowly evades Wedsle coming down upon him from the rooftops by simply stepping back; the violet psychic left to scrape his face against the concrete as he fumbles across the concrete. “You wanna try your luck going that again, or you think now might not be the time take your chances?” “Believe me, bitch; I got plenty more chance to take. Today is my lucky day.” declares the rising violet mobster. “We’ll see how much fortune you have to spare.”

Shaking off his rough landing, the purple psychic attempts a direct assault against his fortunate foe with a daring shoulder charge; Novelle not even so much as alarmed as the violet former mobster rapidly approaches. Just before Wedsle could reach the psychic of luck, the tire from earlier bounces back onto the scene and rolls right into him and smashes him back down onto the pavement; the man in yellow and black swirl letting out an amused chuckle from the blunder. “I’m telling you Weds. Whatever you try against me is bound to be thrust in the jaws of ill fortune.” “Yeah, lets see how long it takes for lady luck to change her mind. Girl’s more fickle than a prostitute picking which has deeper pockets.” the purple psychic declares, making another rash lunge against the man donning yellow and black.

Aiming to slug the smarmy son of a bitch right in his face, Wedsle recklessly swings his fist right in an effort to break the teeth out from his smug grin; yet winds up punching someone else’ clock in when they trip up and stumble right in the way of his fist. “Dammit!” Attempting once more to strike against the psychic of supreme fortune, the violet mobster takes another lunging swing; this time thrusting his fist right towards Novelle’s stomach, confident that he can’t possibly miss. But much to his dismay does Weds haphazardly step onto the exact same banana peel that his foe had slipped upon moments ago, the slippery peel sweeping the violet psychic off his feet and sending him fumbling towards the ground; a usual blunder that Novelle typically is amused by. But the lucky psychic’s amusement wavers when watching his violet foe land on his hand and flips right around to thrust his legs towards him with a lunging kick. Though once more does the smile of fortune shine upon the thief of luck, for when simply stepping over to the side does Novelle evade the violet psychic’s thrusting leap against him; Wedsle left to careen off towards another person unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

The psychic of luck sapping can’t help but let out a demeaning chuckle in watching his foe trying and failing to land even a single strike against him, finding it amusing how Wedsle hurts himself every time he tries. “I admire your stubborn determination, but at the same time I can’t help but feel sorry for you. It’s reminds be of those poor fools taking their chances in betting races and casino’s, dumping everything they have in their gambles for the minuscule chance of making back all they’ve put in ten fold. And in the end its that addictive hope for luck that turns into their very down fall. I suggest you heed their tales of misfortune and know when to fold.” “True. The sweet titty milk of lady fortune gives such an addicting high; not much of those poor motherfucker who drink of it can withdraw themselves from it in the midst of gambling.” the purple psychic claims, rising from the man he had unintentionally knocked down. “But that shit’s only true to those who play the game. And as your soon gonna find out, I’ve been the dealer of this poker game the whole time.”

“Excuse me?” “I’m on to your strategy, you son of a bitch. That ridiculous luck you’ve been flapping your dick sucking lips on about, ain’t an ounce of it is yours. Every single piece of it you pluck away from the people around you and devour like fruit ripe for harvesting. But much like greed’s voracious appetite, its never enough. All that luck you stockpile spoils sooner or later, forcing you to forage for more of lady lucks plump juicy fruits.” “Is there a point you’re getting to, or are you simply stalling for when your luck runs out?” asks Novelle. “My luck? You got shit backwards, man. Just look around you!” Upon the purple psychic suggesting such does his foe take a moment to gauge their surroundings, a fact that begins to creep up upon him was how barren and empty the once bustling market street had become during their skirmish. “There’s nobody here! The streets, the booths, they’re all empty! How? When?” the lucky psychic worryingly questions. “You seriously thought all those swings I took, I was aiming for you?”

Its in this comment that the thief of luck thinks back to all the times the purple psychic had attempting to assault him, his efforts constantly thwarted by the machinations of his stolen fortune. “Those people you ran into, and the tire…” Among remembering all these failed attacks that he remembers the violet psychic’s aura flaring up among his blunders, coating whatever and whoever had made contact with him in his signature fear inducing power. “So then…” “That’s right!” declares Wedsle with a satisfied grin.

From the violet psychic’s perspective after each of these failed attempt to attack his fortunate foe that the aura he had infused in the tire rolled gently into a couple of people watching the fight from the sidelines; the power spreading from the rubber tire and into who it had bumped into. Same can be said for the two people that the violet psychic had unintentionally struck, inflicting his power upon them as those nearby were kind enough to take them away from the ensuing conflict. Yet in their kind efforts does the overwhelming sensation of dread begin to take them, this hysterical fear demanding them to get away from the two psychic’s as fast as they can. And as these people pass by the dozens of others that have gathered, this paranoid causing dread seeps into every single person they touch; Wedsle influence in their negative emotions spreading swiftly across the crowd like a plague. “Even when I couldn’t hit you worth a damn, that wasn’t gonna slow me down! You’re whole winning streak won’t do shit with the deck stacked against you!” Upon realizing his well of potential victims had been drained dry, this newfound situation is enough to scare him into running away from the purple man he had just moments ago been bragging to; the satisfaction of witnessing this cocky son of a bitch fleeing from him being particularly delicious for Wedsle to taste as he gives chase.

Realizing the scales of fortune were beginning to tilt out of his favor, the man dressed in yellow and black desperately searches for a route to escape the violet psychic pursuing him; Novelle dashing straight towards the alleyway closest to him in hopes of an escape. Though his efforts to flee down this path are halted as several bullets come raining down before him to halt his fleeting escape; the psychic of luck glancing up from where the bullets have descended to discover the purple psychic’s partner perched atop the building nearby with an automatic assault rifle aimed down at him. Hearing the footsteps of his purple pursuer approaching, the thief of luck forgoes the alleyway in simply hurrying away further through the emptied street market; all the while Wedsle behind him lets out a sinister laugh before stating: “Let’s see how long your winning streak goes before your luck starts to run out.”

Nothing the echoing of Satette’s voice rings through the halls of the safehouse as she wonders around its corridors; the lively young woman peeking into every room she passes by as she shouts for: “Tuesco!? Tues, come on! I know it was a rough pill to swallow, but its not the end of the world; we can get through this!” Regret and worry begin to seep their way into Sat’s thoughts as she searches for where the former officer had secluded himself to; that concern growing with every empty room that she checks inside. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to bring up that sort of stuff. I mean, it hasn’t even been that long ago that he had to fight off the man he thought had his back for the longest time. Really, what do I even know talking about stuff like this; having your whole world turn upside down so drastically, so fast. I’ve lost people before, but him. He lost his entire life, all because of something beyond his control. Most people in the same spot would just give up...I better find him before that thought crosses his mind.

Its coming to the end of the corridor that the young woman comes to a door awaiting her; Satette slowly pushing her way through to enter upon a dimly lit private room; the only illumination piercing through the thick darkness being from lonely lamp atop the nearby table. At the edge of the lonely chambers sat Tuesco, staring to a collection of photo’s cascading down from his open wallet; some of these pictures depicting moments he had shared with his fellow officers. Their bright, happy smiles left tarnished by the knowledge of what they were doing behind his back. Shutting the door behind her, Satette strolls over to the forlorn man’s side and kneels down to softly greet with: “Hey.” To the young woman’s hello however, the depressed officer fails to muster even a word to say back to her; simply glancing at her before returning his eyes to the pictures. In attempting to steer away from the depressing silence, the lively psychic continues on with: “...Listen, I didn’t really gauge how much of what I said would effect you. I know it all went so fast, but something tells me you haven’t caught up yet.” Again, the dejected middle aged man refuses to say so much as a peep for her to respond to, instead letting out a small, but heavy-hearted sigh. “But that’s okay; its not the end of the world. Once we find a way to sneak you out of the city, you can work on doing something-

“You don’t understand.” Tuesco then cuts her off with, rising up from his seat to look down upon the young woman. “I’ve put half of my life into being an officer of the law, thinking I was actually defending peoples lives. It was something I wanted to do since I was a little kid, I pictured myself saving others, making a difference for them. But in the end, it turned out to be just that, nothing but the fleeting dreams of an optimistic kid. This whole time, thinking I was doing some good in this sleazy city, I was just another unaware cog of its machine, all while I was blissfully none the wiser.” “Well..you know now.” “Yeah, but at what cost?” he recants, glaring down to the photo collection in his hands.

Another heavy sigh escapes him as he passes by the young woman, the melancholic former cop trudging towards the door with wallet full of photo’s in hand; his hand stopping just short of the doorknob before hearing Sat claim how: “You’re not the only one here whose life got swept from under them.” “Your talking about Thurs, right?” “I’m talking about all of us. Thurs wasn’t the only one who ended up here from stuff we couldn’t control. Frida, she use to be well respected CIA agent until she got pinned for stealing evidence to a critical case, getting kicked off for something that wasn’t even her fault.” “Yeah?” “And me...I lost my dad to the mob because he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. I even lost my girlfriend not to long ago because of this shit.” “Oh...I’m sorry.” Tuesco apologizes, turning his head towards her.

“But at least we had those chances for our lives to go somewhere; some people don’t even get that much. Wedsle, didn’t; but he’s still going. From minute one, it was hard for him. Dumped at the feet of a dying orphanage when just a little tot; left with no one to lean on growing up. Once that place shut down, he got tossed to the streets; left at the mercy of whatever to throw at him. He constantly had to fight off others just so he could have the littlest of bare necessities, and people looked down on him for it. People and police alike, all they saw him as was nothing but a little criminal; when at heart he was just a kid; lost, alone, and afraid. Wedsle never even had the chance for his life to be ruined, he never had one to begin with. But...even after all that, going through the worst of it so early. He still kept going, he didn’t think about giving up; never so much as crossed his mind. And it wasn’t until he found Monty and joined the mob that things started to look up for him. Even when the world was hostile to him, even when it never so much as gave him a moment of peace, he kept fighting and eventually found a life for himself; all with people who loved him.”

The man is left silent over the young lady’s tale concerning the hardships her friends had faced; Tues returning his gaze over to the door. “What I’m trying to say is...don’t quit because things feel like their worst. I promise you, even with your life turned upside down, it can be flipped back up. So, please; don’t think about what has been...Think about what can be.” All that remained drifting within the dimly lit room was nothing but silence after her words, a stance quiet that begins to wear against Sat’s hopes. But all that begins to return when Tuesco lets the light of the hallway on the other side flood the room, turning back to her with a soft grin and asking: “So, should be go back to practice?” The man’s continuing conviction and determination brings out a warm smile from Satette.

The lime hooded pickpocket’s breath starts to run dry among fleeing from the young man he had pilfered from, glancing back over to the guy to find Thursotte slowly beginning to catch up; the thief quickly inspecting the streets around him as he attempts to think of a way to lose this guy. Its among his search that the thief lays eyes upon an abandoned traditional Chinese 2 story home left in shambles and forgotten through years of neglect; the cracked brickwork and shattered glass suggesting poor structural integrity, like the whole place was simply waiting to fall apart. A perfect place to try and shake off this guy. Without even a moment of hesitant does the thief in the lime hood race straight through the busted down front door of the abandoned abode, with the psychic of Murphy’s law sprinting straight after him.

The dust collected within the home throughout the countless years is sent flying with every swift step the two of them make in their pursuit, the swept up clouds glimmering against the sunlight beaming through the broken windows. As the two dash through the disheveled living room, Thursotte swipes up half of a broken table lamp right off the top of a smashed in old box Television; infusing its broken glass and metal in his power as he chases his thief into the hallway. Catching the hooded pickpocket sprinting straight through the hall, Thurs attempts to stop the guy by chucking the busted light appliance right at him; the lime hood thief turning the corner just before the lamp could hit him, instead crashing into the corner before breaking into shards. Indentured in missing, Thursotte leaps right over the mess of glass left behind by the broken lamp as he turns the corner after his pickpocket; left unaware of the forming cracks through the wall as his energy spreads.

Among their race through the desolate dirty hallway, Thurs yanks a broken picture frame off the wall and runs his chaotic power into its busted wood as he watches the fleeting thief jump up towards the stairs. Like a tossed out piece of trash, he chucks the picture frame up at the hooded thief racing up the steps; his upward throw unfortunately streaking right beside the pickpocket and crashing right against one of the steps. Still, Thurs refuses to let this stop him from continuing his pursuit and makes leaps over several steps in climbing up to the top of the staircase; Thursotte racing into the upstairs hall as the set of stairs start to cave in under his orange aura.

Out from the upstairs hall do both the thief and his pursuing victim hurry into a two way bathroom, plastered in slippery green grime and mold built up over the years; all of which the two of them wind up sliding on in their hurry through. While the thief is sent slipping into the bath tub, Thursotte winds up sliding right behind the broken toilet; the both of them hurrying to pull themselves off the floor before the other could stand back up. As Thurs slides out from behind the grimy porcelain throne, he snatches up the toilet wand left sitting against the wall and infuses his power in it before throwing it towards the shower curtain rod; the rod’s rusty hinges failing to take the blow as it comes falling down upon the rising thief. But even suffering this blow does the pickpocket refuse to cease fleeing as he jumps out from the bathtub and head straight through the door on the other side; Thursotte continuing to chase after, all while fractures in the ceiling start to form.

Emerging from the bathroom do the two run into the confines of an emptied out bedroom; the thief scampering around every corner in search of an exit among this part of the neglected home among the boarded up windows. But when finding not one open for him to leap from, he spots the door in the corner of the room and makes a swift lunge over to grasp at the knob; a sense of fright crawling through the pickpockets skin when the rust covered knob barely even moved an inch. “Finally.” the hooded thief hears, turning back to find the man he stole from standing behind him. “I got you right where I want you. Now its time to-” Yet before another word could escape from Thursotte’s lips, the two begin to hear the sound of wood breaking apart and rubble crumbling throughout the integral structure; a terrible dread tingling down their spines as they look to one another, realizing what disaster they had been caught in. The very moment the two attempt to bolt straight towards the boarded window does the ceiling above their heads collapse; entire chunks of the roof falling upon them in a torrential downpour of aged rubble and wood.

The people that happen to pass by start to gather when witnessing the old battered home crumble in on itself; a plume of dust wafting through the streets upon its collapse. When the clouds soon part do the several people that have gathered find nothing left of the old abode but debris of what once stood, with the house and all that had stood within now buried underneath the chunks of its aged remains; nothing but utter silence haunts the streets surrounding this freshly destroyed abode.

The small crowd is astonished when the blue a pile of roof chunks begin to tremble; the rocks falling as a hand emerges out from beneath the debris. From this hand does an arm cloaked in a torn lime sleeve rise breach the rubble; following, the simple pickpocket donned in the lime green hood digging out from the rocks and limping away from the wreckage. He doesn’t make it far however before the injuries he took among the destruction get the better of him as he fumbles onto another pile of broke wood and bricks. As the thief struggles to pull himself from the rubble, a shadow creeps over to loom over him; the hooded pickpocket turning back to discover the man he had robbed from standing above him. His orange glowing eyes burn brightly among the darkness cast by the buildings around them as he looks down upon the lime hooded man, leaning down closer to the downed thief before asking: “Can I have my key back now?” An audible yelp escapes from the thief’s mouth as he frantically digs into his pants pocket to quickly pull out the bronze key he had pilfered from Thurs; the pickpocket throwing the finely engraved key over to the young man and pleads: “Take it, already! Just get away from me, you maniac!” Finally relinquishing the key back to its rightful owner, the pickpocket pulls himself off the pile of debris before quickly limping away, Thursotte picking the bronze key off the ground before he yells back to the guy: “Thank you!”

After slipping the key back into his own pants pocket, he begins to feel a thick malice build up in the air and peers back to the crowd gathered among the streets; their enraged and furious stares beating down against him as growls and snarls escape from their teeth. “Hey, wait! I saw this guy earlier around the corner outside the market! He knocked the corner of a building onto the road and cut out the power over there.” “I saw him in the park too! Guy broke a basketball hoop and ruined the entire playground!” “He tore apart the tree’s and left the shrine in utter ruins.” “And now he’s gone and destroyed old Fen whey’s old home! She had just died of a stroke like two week’s ago!” “This menace has gone too far! He’s left our community in shambles! The police will have a field day with this!” “Forget the cops! They can’t bring the sort of justice this monster deserves! Lets just do it ourselves!” “Oh...Oh no…” utters Thursotte, the crowd beginning to come down upon him.

Frantically dashing through the barren marketplace with the purple psychic on his tail, Novelle makes a sharp turn around the street corner; the desperation plaster on his face deflating when discovering beyond the corner an entire shipping yard filed with countless people working in shipping and packing up numerous uniquely made items, foods, and spices the likes of which could only be found in this oriental slice of the city. The lucky psychic’s face beaming as he sees among them not honest working people, but potential crops he could harvest among these metaphorical dry lands that bare no fruit. Though even with his luck fueled salvation in site, the fire on his ass in the form of the violet traitor refuse to let up; Wedsle beginning to close the distance between them as he sprints after. “Looks like your ride on the fucking fortune express is about to come to a violent, crashing halt. I’d wager you got only a couple more puffs in the engine before you make the last stop against my fist.” the purple psychic claims. “I’m not out of this horse race just yet; I’m putting everything I have on this one final bet, and when it pays off; I’m not playing nice anymore.” “You mean “if” it pays off, you shit eating son of a bitch!”

Among the chase does the man in yellow and black take a sudden turn right into the street corner, the violet traitor following right after to witness his pursuit frantically climb up the fire escape of an apartment complex; Wedsle leaping up this escape in attempting to catch up. Yet the very moment Weds clutches the ladder do the screws holding it together swiftly fall out of their rivets; the entire fire exit beginning to fall apart underneath Novelle’s feet as he climbs towards the roof. The purple psychic leaps out from the plummeting pieces of grated steel; helpless but to watch as his target makes it to the top of the apartment complexes roof just when the whole thing comes tumbling down. “Shit. Frida! Your up!” the Wedsle declares. Upon her purple partners words does Frida merge into the wall of the taller building from across the street, partially coming out of the brick wall with a sniper rifle in hand; the spot she hangs off the wall from lending the gun woman a good position to aim towards their fleeting foe.

Dashing across the roof of the complex does the thief of luck stop just short of the edge, glaring down to see the busy shipping yard right next door to the apartment; the numerous people handling and delivering packages tantalizing to his eyes. But when anxiously looking through the yard, Novelle fail to find anywhere to safely jump down upon; nothing but the hard wood of countless wooden crates littering the sides of the facility. “So close. Just need somewhere to-” Yet its when attempting to gauge for a safe spot to land, the stinging sensation of fiery hot steel pierces through his abdomen from behind when a single sniper shot is fired right into the side of his stomach. “Bam, right in the kidney beans.” cheers Frida. A terribly cold dread rings through his body as the man in yellow and black clutches the part of his stomach where he had been shot, letting out sharply pained grunt as he stumbles along the side of the rooftop. His footing soon slips away among the frightening pain, sending him plummeting down towards the shipping yard and crashing down into a pile of crates.

Everyone in the shipping center is left astonished as the man drops down onto the crates with a harsh collapsing slam; those nearby quick to inspect the scene and are left alarmed to discover Novelle left atop the piles of broken boxes. “Oh my god! Someone got hurt!” “Where did he even come from?” “I saw him drop down from roof.” “That looked like a real nasty fall.” Among the employee’s worrying chatter, one of them takes a closer look to find the man still breathing despite the nasty crash; her weariness escalating when finding scarlet staining the side of his jacket. “Someone get a first aid kit and call 911! This guys in pretty bad shape!” “Our phones are inside, hurry!” Upon these demands do a few of the yard employee’s race right back into the building of the facility as the others gather around to attempt and aid the man that had fallen into their laps; a couple of them hearing the guy let out a soft groan and pointing out how: “He’s still awake?” The employee that had first come to him tries to get some information out from this injured stranger with questions like: “What happened to you!? Where did you get shot at!?” Its in her concern that she sees one of the man’s eye suddenly open wide; the glare he inflicts against not one of helplessness or pleading, but rather the gaze of a predator, having discovered an entire smorgasbord of prey to feast upon.

Within the building of the shipping yard do the two employee’s that rushed in darts through the hall and dart to the door of the break room; their sites sliding right over to a bunch of phones left on the counter to charge. As one of them darts right over to these phones, the other employee races over to the first aid kit hung along the wall, prying the case right off the wall as the other takes one of the phones and darts to dail 911. But the very moment he taps the last digit does the employee feel something clutch at his shoulder and force him to turn around, shocked to find another man dressed in violet standing right in front of him. “Sorry about this, buddy.” he apologizes with. Before the employee could even so much as wonder what this intruder means by this, distress and panic begin to quickly flood his very thoughts; countless anxieties, worries, and fears all gushing to the surface all at once like an emotional geyser of bad emotions. Such a sudden rush of terrible feeling hitting him all at once was enough to make the poor guy pass out.

Glaring back towards the other employee, Wedsle could tell she was moments away from screaming bloody murder the moment he approaches; so rather than take that chance, he digs into his pocket to pull out nothing but a single penny and sets it in between his fingers. The violet psychic fills its copper with his purple power before he flicks it right towards the frighten woman, the employee flinching when the single cent coin lightly hits her head. But the very moment that the penny taps against her does a flurry of stress inducing emotions flood into her brain all at once; the woman rapidly breathing faster and faster before she suddenly passes out from the emotional affliction.

With both of these loose ends quickly taken care of, Wedsle dashes right out from the break room and down the hallway; hurrying towards the back of the building in his race into the facility’s shipping yard. Frida say’s she got the guy right in the kidney beans, but knowing what a lucky bastard like that can do, he probably tanked the hit and his still hanging on. So I gotta flush down this shit head before his signature style of luck goes and throws a wrench in the plumbing.

When purple psychic busts through the door leading out into the ship yard, he comes to a terrible site awaiting him. All of the employees that had gathered to aid the luck driven psychic all lay unconscious across the hard concrete; the man bejeweled in yellow and black standing among them as he clutches the neck of one of in his hands, with the other driven deep into his body with a bright pink luminescence. From this glow does the man of good fortune tear out from the depths of the employees being a plump star fruit; Novelle gazing upon its tantalizing juices with sinister glee as he tosses away the man he took it from like a used shell.

“What the fuck!? How are...You took a bullet to the kidney’s, how are you still standing!?” Wedsle demands his foe to answering. “Yeah, funny story I forgot about til now. About half a year ago, I wound up going on a big booze binge with some of my friends and wound getting alcohol poisoning. Thought for the longest time, it was the lowest point in my streak of fortune; that for a brief moment, lady luck shunted me. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise this whole time, waiting to go off until the moment I needed it the most. That spot where your bitch friend shot me, right in the kidneys; I had to have one of them ripped out of me!” A maniacal laughter can’t help but escape from the psychic of luck as he takes a voracious bite out of the star fruit he had just plundered; the fruits juices drooling down his chin as he chews and chuckles. “Even in my lowest points, she keeps looking out for me!”

Fed up with this lucky son of a bitch’s prattling, Wedsle makes a daring charge towards the psychic of supreme fortune; reaching over towards the juicy piece of fruit in his foe’s hand. The moment he attempts to close in on the man donned in yellow and black does one of the employee’s on the ground start to rise right in front of the violet mobster; Novelle leaping back as Weds winds up running straight into this unfortunate fellow, both of them falling back onto the concrete as the man of luck makes his distance. Swiftly pulling himself off the floor does Wedsle follow after the fortunate bastard right into an entire maze made from the dozens of packages and goods that have yet to be shipped.

The violet psychic keeps up the pace as he pursues his fortune driven foe around the twist and turns of the wooden crate labyrinth; an effort that Novelle attempts to foil by tackling the wall of boxes beside him and break open what crates he passes by. Within these boxes do stuff like decorations, industrial machine pieces, kitchenware, fine China, all of which spill down against the purple traitor in his feverish pursuit; Wedsle refusing to falter as he tanks the downpour of small miscellaneous items. Despite the purple pest continuing to chase after him, Novelle refuses to let up in knocking over every single crate he can in attempting to put distance between them; one box he topples down breaking open to unleash a plum of spices and seasoning that the purple psychic simply dashes through. Its shortly after passing right by that cloud of spice that Wedsle starts to feel a shallow, but stinging pain crawl across his very skin; the pieces of seasoning having slipped into the small cuts made from what had spilled onto him. This however fails to deter him from continuing to pursue the luck stealing psychic and fights through the seething pain as he starts to close the gap between each other.

Blinded by the cloud of savory and spicy seasonings getting in one of his eyes, the purple psychic ends up running right into a wall made of large wooden crates in his reckless dash after his fortunate foe; Wedsle slamming in the boxes hard enough to topple a column of them tumbling behind him, closing off the way the two had come in from. With one eye blinded by stinging spices, the violet psychic keeps the other locked right at his pursuit as he sees the man in the yellow and black jacket streak through the corridor of boxes; Weds darting after the lucky bastard as he watches him turn the corner.

Following after Novelle around the very same corner, Wedsle stopped in his tracks when witnessing his target knock over a particularly large crate off the top of a nearby stack; the box breaking open upon landing for its contents to come spilling out: an entire collection of fireworks that scatter across the floor. “Ooooh.” the luck stealing psychic gleefully cheers with a grin. “Shit!” curses Wedsle, making a desperate bolt after his foe. Smugly confident in his overabundance of luck, the psychic of fortune rips the lid off a crate right beside him to reveal within whole packs of match sticks; a site of which makes him do a complete 180 and frantically bolt back towards the corner. With the surplus of sticks does Novelle simply just take one of them and flicks it against the package to ignite a small flame, casually tossing the lit match right into the spilled pile of volatile fireworks before leaping back around the corner right behind him. It takes only moments for the lit match stick to ignite the fuse for one of these fireworks, causing a chain reaction that starts to set off the entire bundle; Wedsle leaping around the corner right in the nick of time as they crack off. Throughout the entire block can this barrage of colorful explosions be witnessed by every single person that was simply driving on through this side of the district; a display that ferments concern and worry among the people who bare witness.

Among taking cover from the explosive chaos, Wedsle glares over to the opposite side to see the way out blocked out by the crates he had knocked over earlier; a predicament that boxes him in with the wildly unpredictable explosions happening right around the corner. Dumbass doesn’t know how you use fireworks? You don’t send them flying over. With a rising leap up, the purple psychic starts to scale up the wall of shipping crates and makes a climb up towards the top of the stack You send them rocketing straight to the skies.

Yet among Wedsle’s ascent up towards the top of the wall made of crates, a wayward rocket comes zipping out from around the corner and blows up in a blindingly flash of sparks; the violet psychic seething as some of these sparks singe against his side. Fighting through the fiery sensation beating against his skin, Wedsle scuttles up to the top of the stack and gauges the view of the entire maze; eyeing up the route his fortunate foe had taken in escaping from the explosion of fireworks. With little time to carefully run along the top of the crates, Wedsle instead opts to take bounding leaps right over the gaps set in between the makeshift labyrinth; taking jump after jump towards where Novelle scurry off to.

After several leaps and bound over the walls of the wooden crate maze, Wedsle delves back in to descend down before the fortune pilfering psychic; Novelle himself nearly fumbling over as he manically dashes away from his purple pursuer. In his frantic hast does the lucky psychic wind up running right onto the wall of boxes hard enough to shake those at the top over the edge; the wood holding the crate together breaking as he crashes onto the hard concrete in front of him. Novelle glances back to what he had knocked over and is ecstatic for a baseball pitcher on wheels with a portable single switch generator; all of which packed with an entire gallon filled with standard issue baseballs. Rushing right over to the misplaced machine like a giddy kid with a fresh new toy, the lucky psychic flips the switch to the portable generator attached to the pitching machine before aiming its baseball sized barrel right towards the violet traitor; a naughty giggle escaping from him before he switches the pitcher on and unleashes the barrage of baseballs against his foe. Several of these ball fly right past his head as Wedsle darts away from the rapid fire pitching machine; a couple of them hitting him right in the back before he takes a tight turn around the corner; his fortune steal foe aiming to pelt him with more as he races after with the pitcher at his side.

The script is flipped out from his favor as the purple pursuer was now the one being feverishly pursued, taking turns left and right through the crate maze as the man in black and yellow he had been chasing was now after him, frenetically blasting out baseball after baseball at him from the pitcher he rolls with. “What’s the matter, Weds? Getting tired of this streak of bad luck, well you better get used to it. Forget broken mirrors and black cats; the sort of shitty luck you’ll get facing me will make you wish you were in casino debt.” the psychic of luck taunts as he purses. Fucking pitcher, generator, and ammo all in one convenient box? The number of ass pulls this guy has done would be enough to make anal play porn stars blush. Frida should have everything ready by now, so all that’s left is to get this dick head into position. Shouldn’t be hard; the way this dipshit’s chasing me, he’ll never see the surprise we have in store for him coming. A strategy set in for the son of a bitch pursing him, Wedsle leads his fortunate foe through the makeshift maze of crates like a donkey with a carrot on a string; all the while Novelle himself is too occupied in his luck fueled high to realize, continuing to fire out more and more baseballs against the violet psychic in a frenzy

Turn after turn does Weds make through the maze with the manic mobster on his tail, enduring the hard balls that are pelted against his body as he trails them both towards the corner of the labyrinth. But among the frantic chase does the pitching machine Novelle pursues the violet traitor with finally run out of ammunition; the lucky psychic almost immediately discarding the piece of equipment like a used piece of garbage. The psychic of stolen fortune then finds his purple pursuit making a swift scale up to the top of the boxes Determined to not let the tables turn away from him, the thief of luck quickly scoops up a discarded baseball from the pavement and throws it right at the climbing purple psychic; the ball streaking right beside Wedsle to instead bust open the lid of the crate in front of him. From the depths of the broken crate do a collection of minuscule bugs burst out from within, sprinkling all over the violet psychic body; Wedsle looking closely to one of the insects that crawl across his hand to see that they’re: “Ants? Ant farm?” But in a cruel twist of fate, he soon realizes that these are no normal ants when one of them stings his skin with enough of a pain to make him nearly fall off the stack of crates; Weds quickly scaling up towards the top as he suffers the agonizing sting from the dozens of ants crawling across his body. “Aggh, bullet ant farm! What kind of twisted fuck would ship bullet ants!?” Seeing the cavalcade of painful stinging insects not even slowing his foe down, Novelle decides to races right towards the same stack of crates and begins to climb after his purple pursuit; exuding a confident smile as he scales to the top of the wooden boxes.

After glancing back to see the psychic of pilfered fortune greedily tail him, Wedsle peers off to the side of the crates he runs across to gauge along the outside edge of the maze; shaking off the numerous ants that crawl across his body. So close. Just a couple more yards. In his straightforward race across the row of stacks crates does he witness a bolt of steel zip right beside him before impaling itself in one of the wooden crates, Weds glancing back once again to be shocked at the site of his pursuer wielding a loaded industrial nail gun directly at him. “For fuck sake, where you keep finding this shit!?” the purple psychic can’t help but exclaim. The violet psychic is kept on his toes as he runs from the barrage of nails that are fired from behind, hopping around the sides of the stacks in an effort to keep these nails from hitting him; yet he again proves to not be as lucky with his evasion, as a couple of bolts end up hitting him in the shoulder. In spite of these few nails impaling into him, Wedsle refuses to halt for even a moment as he keeps site an eye to the outer edge of the wall of crates both he and his fortunate foe walk along. Almost there!

The thief of luck’s barrage of bolts comes to an abrupt end when his nail gun suddenly runs out of ammunition, with nothing but the clicks of the trigger coming out from the tool; these clicks are what queue Wedsle to stop and make a complete turn around to face his approaching pursuer. His fortunate foe is alarmed over his unexpected stop and stumbles right into his awaiting grasp, Novelle nonetheless remaining calm as he anticipates whatever his boundless luck could bestow him in this unexpected turnaround. The very moment Wedsle has his fortune foe in his clutches, his stomach drops when feeling a sharp pain plunge against him; the violet psychic glaring down to see the broken remains of what once was a dragon figure carved from glass embedded into his side. This unfortunate set of circumstances has his foe let out an amused chuckle as he start to drive the sharp glass deeper into Wedsle’s torso, Novelle feeling the purple psychic tremble as he lay in his grasp. “Its astonishing how fickle the wheel fortune plays; each of us at the mercy of this never ending game of chance. And it seems the hands of fate have triumphed for me once again, and on your final gambit too. It would be cruel for man mired in misfortune such as yourself continue to live through this unfortunate future; perhaps your prove to be luckier in the next life, so to grant you mercy, I shall snuff out yours right now!” boasts the psychic of stolen fortune.

“Good god. Pricks like you are always so damn predictable.” claims Wedsle, grasping his foe’s hand to pull away the broken glass. “What was that?” “You’re right about one thing. I haven’t exactly been lucky in this game of chance we all have to call life, almost everything I had to fight tooth and nail for; probably could right a fucking limerick over how shit my run of luck has been. But its with all of it that one lesson has cemented in my mind.” “And what would that be?” “Making the best of a bad situation!” Its upon hearing this statement from him that his foe suddenly sweeps Novelle right off his feet and tosses him down off the side of the stack of crates; the thief of luck rapidly descending down towards the inside of a big open crate, but his fall down into the depths of his box is cushioned by a line ultra thick packaging meant for extremely fragile items.

While relieved over his save from this nasty fall, the lucky son of a bitch gaze up from the depths of the box to brag how: “Well, seems like your situation as gone from bad to worse; if you were hoping I would get personal with the pavement, than you dead wrong. This pillow like foam saved my skin from taking a nasty fall. And from the way things are going, my lucks not running out anytime soon.” To this boasting can Wedsle not help but let out a confident chuckle as he looks down upon his foe held within the padded crate, an expression of which takes the fortunate foe aback. “Its fucking hilarious how blinded you are by your boundless luck, refusing to see the seeds of your downfall already sprouting. Of course I knew chucking a fortunate fucker like you wasn’t gonna work, I knew there would be some sort of bullshit that would save your sorry neck. Which is why I thought to make your luck work in our favor.” “What?”

Before the psychic of stolen fortune could even so much as wonder what his violet foe could mean by this somewhat cryptic statement, the gun woman that was with him emerges out from the side of the crate with a padded crate lid in her grasp;  the light beaming into the inside of the crate being snuffed away as the top is swiftly slammed shut. Try as Novelle might to push at the top of his close call turned unexpected prison in hopes of a swift escape, it already proves too late as the lid refuses to so much as budge; the top already being bolted down as he struggles to move it. Armed with a nail gun, Frida slides all across the top of the crate punching nails along the rim to keep their foe trapped within locked in; his anxious screams growing quieter the more the lid is fastened.

“That soft foam you thought was your saving grace will end up as you worst nightmare. The sort of insulation your cushioned in is enough to trap even the loudest screams coming from the highest pitched little shits on the side of the daycare. And pounding your way out to get attention, with the weak ass arms you got; phfft, forget it.  I doubt a single souls that comes back to work tomorrow’s gonna hear you scream, you little pissant.” “Nonononono-” frantically begs the psychic of stolen fortune, his desperate pleading cut short as Frida nails down the last of the bolts to tightly secure the lid. After she finishes putting in as many nails to the edges of the lid as it could fire, the dimensional psychic emerges out from the side of the box before she slaps a sticker right on the crate’s side; the sticker being a label saying: “This package is to be shipped to “Singapore”.” “Hope you get a good view from the great wall of China.” the violet psychic taunts. “Wedsle, the great wall isn’t even anywhere near Singapore.” Frida corrects. “He doesn’t have to know that.”

Leaping down from atop the wall of stacked crates, Wedsle lands back onto solid concrete to meet back with Frida waiting by the box they stuffed their foe into; a slight hiss seeping out from between his teeth when he lands. The violet psychic gives himself a split second to breathe before he peers back to his gun toting partner and suggests: “Whelp, since we took care of that; lets snoop around Broadway to see if there any juicy intel to scope out.” “You...You sure you don’t wanna take a minute to...rest or something.” disconcertingly asks Frida. “I don’t think we have that kind of time. Who knows if the mob’s got any more of their loyal little bitches stationed here.  Beside, I ain’t that fucked up. Just look at me.” To this suggestion, the gun woman’s concern only grows as she beholds the bruises and cuts littered across her purple partners body; the pieces of seasoning and spices making the injuries he had suffered pulse and quiver as Wedsle musters the strength to keep standing. “Lets at least stop by a clinic first.”

The air solidifying psychic attempts to hold complete concentration and mental prowess as he focuses in forming the air itself into what shape he wants; specifically, his aura morphing into the form of a full fledged sword. Satette watches him in anticipation as he holds his concentration to the exercise at hand, intrigued over the progress he’s made so far since this morning. Drips of sweat run down Tuesco’s forehead in commanding the cerulean power slithering out, fighting through the rising migraine as he keeps is thoughts focused in controlling the air itself. With refined concentration and sharpened mentality, Tuesco manages to shape his dark blue aura to hold the complete shape of a long sword and starts to draw in the air around them into this mold; a sharp hiss echoing through the room as he vacuums the air into his power. The new psychic lets out strenuous grunts from between his teeth as he channels every ounce of brain power; a blinding flash illuminating the entire room, one that forces the lively psychic watching to look away.

Once this bright light soon fades, Satette peers back to their air solidifying psychic and gazes in awe to witness his power having crafted a straight sword out from the very air around them; Tuesco feeling up the weapon as it slowly hovers into his grasp. The hilt, crudely crafted, but solid like a rock. The grip, bumpy and course, but still able to be held. And the blade itself, somewhat dulled, but still considerably sharp enough to make a cut on his finger. “Ah.”

“You actually did it, you made a fully fledged weapon from thin air!” cheers Sat. “But it doesn’t feel right. I don’t think I can see myself using this.” doubts Tuesco. “That’s okay. The fact you manage to make it in the first place is a huge first step. If you could make a sword, imagine what other things you can mold. Hell, with some more practice, I bet you could make stuff more complex, like a hammer, or even a ladder; the possibility are endless for you.” “Yeah…” he utters, peering to the invisible blade he holds in his grasp.

“Thanks for that stuff you said earlier. About needing to keep going.” Tuesco then thanks her. “Uh, no problem. Its just a part of life we gotta deal with. Listen, I don’t want to make you stay in this city and fight for us; that’s up to you. But I could tell that when you were a police officer, you didn’t care about statue or power; all you wanted to do was make sure people were okay.  I can respect the fact that you just want to leave, I do. But I can’t lie and say that you would be missing the chance to make the biggest changes that could effect the people of this city.” “You...you think so.” “Of course. Why else would be willingly facing down the biggest crime syndicate in New York. Just...something to think about, okay?” With these words of thought does the lively psychic make her way out the room to leave Tuesco to his thoughts; the former officer of the law staring to the grip of his freshly made blade; contemplating of what he should do with this awesome power over air.

The near quiet tranquility of a Chinese herbal shop is shaken as the purple psychic, wrapped in gauze and bandages, slaps his hands on the counter and fiercely asks the elderly woman behind it: “You host a shop in the middle of the most well known city of the United state. What the fuck do you mean you don’t speak English!?” But rather than answer him directly, the old woman simply points to a sign set along the side of the counter displaying the message: “The owner of this establishment understands and speaks exclusively in Chinese. Please translate or make your way to the exit.” “Fucking...I never understand how hard it is for people coming over here to bother learning a little bit of English; its one of the easiest languages to-” “Wedsle, Weds, easy there. How about before you go sticking your dick in that hornets nest, you let me handle this.” Frida stops him with. “Kay, fine. Don’t know what makes you think you’ll have better luck than me.”

Waltzing past her purple partner, Frida clears her throat before she stands before the counter and begins to converse with the old woman in Chinese, managing to strike up a conversation with the elder; Wedsle left dumbfounded as he stands back as he watches the two banter with each other, all the while not understanding a single word neither of them say. A couple laughs, a couple gasps, and a couple of nods later and Frida soon parts away from the counter while waving the old woman goodbye, telling her purple partner to: “Come on, Weds.” “Um...o-okay…” he utters, following Frida out from the herbal shop. The door to the shop closing behind them, the first thing that Wedsle asks the dimensional psychic is: “When did you learn to speak Chinese?” “The CIA I worked at has a prerequisite that has you learn a second language for international affairs.” “And you chose Chinese because…?” “I thought it sounded neat.”

“So...what all did she tell you?” Wedsle gets back on track with. “Not to much honestly. Just told me about how some people from the mob stop by here from time to time to collect shipments from overseas; they get their product and she gets to keep in business.” “Names, any at all?” “She did mention how most of her shipments are addressed to one guy in particular, but always sends someone else to collect them, never the guy himself. The dude getting them goes by an alias too, something you normally wouldn’t think of. Not any kind of name that would get lost among the countless others like, John, Ben, Samantha. Nah, guy seriously calls himself “Dr. December” I mean, of all the names you could make up for yourself, why the hell would you name yourself after the most festive time of the...year?” Among the cusp of her mocking statement, Frida jovial demeanor wanes when peering back to her purple partner; taken aback by the mixture of astonishing shock and dreading terror plastered on his face. “Um...Did you-did you hear something or-”

“I didn’t mishear you, right? You seriously said Dr. December?” he wearily question. “Um...Yeah. What are you-” “Are you fucking kidding me!? He’s real!?” “Whoa, easy there, man. The hell’s this guy got you wound up for?” “You’ve been with us for how long? And you seriously haven’t heard about him?” “Uh...N-no. Why?” “I-I seriously thought that he was just a myth. A legend told to fresh meat to make them shit their pant and keep them from going out of line.” “Myth? Who do people think this guy is?” “Well, nobody besides the higher ups have never so much as lay eyes upon him. So everyone under them only has the horror stories to go by.” “And those stories would involve…”

“The kind of shit that would make your bowels sink. From what little people hear, they say he’s a brilliant technological engineer; twisted by malice and hate over the world abandoning him at his most dire. When the mob heard word about this man’s forsaken potential, they scooped him up almost instantly and put him in a line of work that made his mind, and their criminal escapades flourish. With nothing but cold hard steel, his great intellect, and the psychic powers bestowed to him, he had mutilated what parts of his own body failed him and grafted in their place chilling and complex machinery; crafting the kind of technology the regular basic bitch would find only in the realm of sci-fi. It’s after years of experimenting on his own body, he had become more machine than man; left as nothing but a mess of internal organs stuffed in the cold unfeeling shell of a robotic abomination. Regardless if theirs a shred of humanity left in him, the mob nonetheless keep him under their research and development division, having craft software and tech the likes of which hold every piece of technology in this entire city in their hands.”

“Damn, way to build a reputation.” comments Frida “And if that reputation turns out to be real, we’re in a lot more trouble then we thought. With every piece of tech under his command; the bastard could be watching us right now.” Wedsle claims, his eyes fixed to a security camera perched upon the corner of the building. “We got the info we need; lets just get Thurs and get the fuck out of here.” “Speaking of which, where is Thurs? He was supposed to meet us back where we…” Frida starts to question, her word dropping off when gazing down street.

A look down the very same street as the dimensional psychic, Wedsle peers over to discover their chaos causing partner rapidly approaching; the panic in Thursotte’s face clear to read as he nears. “Yo Thurs, we’re heading back. You still got the-” “Make a break for it!” they both hear the young man scream. “Jeez, the hell’s his deal?” the purple psychic ponders. Gazing back over to the very street that Thurs had bolted from, Frida confusion quickly turns to alarm as she turns her purple partners over to share in the same site; Wedsle left just as astonished to discover a giant mob of people marching straight towards their direction. The anger and rage in their eyes making it clear to the two that they weren’t looking to start a parade.

The furious crowd tailing behind him, Thursotte puts every ounce of energy he had left into sprinting away like there was no tomorrow; his breath left course and short after running through the rest of the district in chasing after the key. Among his dashing escape do both Wedsle and Frida manage to quickly catch up to his side, the dimensional psychic being the first of the two to question: “What the hell happened!?” “Iwaswatchingthekey, thenaguystoleitandIchasedhimaround! Itriedstoppinghimabunchoftimes, butwoundupwreckingthepark, acornerofastreet, ashrine, andanolddeceasedguyshome! I’msorry!” the young man frantically answers without so much as a single pause. “Oh, Thurs.” “Did you at least get the key back?” Weds asks him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. It should be right...Here!” Thursotte claims, pulling out the key from the depths of his pocket. “Yoink.” Weds exclaims as he swipes the key away.

The runaway trio then stop right at the face of a locked door, Wedsle inching the bronze key back to the safehouse to the lock as he jests how: “And behold at the misshapen key glides seamlessly into the hole like a pig screw shapped dick slipping in a-” “JUST PUT THE FUCKING KEY IN THE-” “Alright, fine, god. Can’t give a man a moment to dick around, huh.” Jamming the bronze key right in the doors key hole does the wooden door glows a distinct red; the three hurrying their way in and shutting the door behind them just as the crowd was moments away from catching them. Quickly barging through the door all of them saw the trio race into, the furious crowd is left utterly baffled when finding on the other side nothing a frightened middle aged man dwelling within the one room shack; with not even a sign of the three that came in. Most of the crowd profusely apologize to the elder for interrupting his day before they make their way out, shutting the door behind them as they continue a search doomed to fail.

[eunoiaastralwings]

I have questions for you (well not actually unless you want to answer these)

A youtube video of questions I have for you

OMG LMAOOOO - Got to say it was nice to answer and ecaspe from work drama XD

1.-Have you ever walked out of a mall into a huge parking area and realized you'd forgotten where you parked your car?

Like all the fucking time!

2.-Have you ever gone mountain biking?

Nope - am scared of heights XD

3.-What do you wanna be when you grow up?

Already grown up and have shite job XD

4.-What's the right tip?

I believe about 5€ or more :)

5.-Have you called a plumber to your home lately?

No. . . don't read into it, Tara

6.-How superstitious are you?

Kinda

7.-How much money would it take to make you spend a night in a cemetery?

Give about my annual income pay for the about 2 years without any taxes - then I shall do it!

8.-Would you display this as a trophy?

Nope - am not Celegorm xD

9.-Do you have a pet?

I did - RIP my beautiful Lucky, I love you forever

10.-Do you have a sweet tooth?

Yes.

11.-Do you believe in the power of a curse?

Depends on what kind of curse

12.-Have you had your hearing tested lately?

No - probably tested to be half deaf

13.-Planning a trip soon?

Just had a trip to Thailand -so not anytime soon

14.-Can you remember the tallest man you've ever seen?

Maedhros? . . . in my dream? - I think. . .

15.-Do you love to go a-wandering beneath the clear blue sky?

Yes - but no clear blue skies :(

16.-Have you noticed what big stars real estate agents have become?

Weird fake versions of themselves - . . . yea celebrities !

17.-Are you careful with your personal records?

Yes.

18.-Does your computer ever seem to have a mind of its own?

Yes - sometimes doesn't do what I tell it to do! Like I never asked the thing to ex. out of that page SMH - I still needed that

19.-Have you ever visited the Chinatown section in a major city?

Yes.

20.-Have you ever visited a flea market?

Yes.

21.-Have you ever visited a truck stop?

Yes.

22.-Have you ever had a job as a waiter?

Yes - back in high school and college

23.-Have you noticed how many successful restaurants are theme-based these days?

Oh yea

24.-Have you ever had the desire to write your initials in wet cement?

Wet cement, dough, beach sand, mud ,crave it into a tree - idk you name. But I never done it XD - except the dough and sand of course. OK - maybe on mud too once or twice - in my back garden. . .

[where-is-francis]

Dating Yelena Headcanons

Rules/Before You Like

Pronouns: Not Specified (NSFW stuff is left very very vague) 18+ ONLY

Request: No

A/N: HOW COULD YOU NOT LOVE HER UGH SHE’S SO CUTE. Also this has been in my drafts for so long, I just needed to post it. Blank blogs will be blocked if found interacting with this post. This post contains discussions of adult themes under the cut.

TW: None really, for the first two parts. NSFW-esque HCs below the cut; includes mentions of BDSM, healthy and calm communication during experimentation, etc.

How you met:

You had one of the most cliche ‘New York blossoming 20-somethings romcom plot’ type encounter

After the incident on Christmas, Yelena decided to stay in New York for a bit

Although there were still Widows that needed saved, the majority of the chunk had been helped during The Blip

The remaining ones that were blipped, like herself, were being helped by the others

She had no idea what to do with her time off

First things first, she went to all of the tourist attractions — Statue of Liberty, Rockefeller, Central Park, etc.

While on her walk back to the apartment she was crashing at — a fellow Widow she just freed — a certain smell caught her attention

It was a small bakery with all kinds of pastries

As soon as she stepped in, it was like a kid in a candy shop

You were on a coffee run and decided to get a sandwich, so you stood waiting in line

New York was filled with interesting people, but the blonde had something different about her

It started when she asked what you ordered — you explained the personalized menu item that had become your favorite

Once your food and drink were ready, you sat at one of the smaller tables

However, it was hard not to notice a certain Russian girl as she peered over the menu, carefully watching you from a few rows away

God, she had no idea how to approach you

When your food was nearly finished, you were startled when a menu was moved from your table

“You seem like a normal New Yorker. You live here, yes?”

“Yeah, I do. Um, thank you—?”

“I need to do fun things while I am here. I have seen the statue, I walked through the park, I saw the old Avengers tower, and Times Square.”

It was hard not to smile at her

You used the moment to finally get a good look at her — considering all of the staring she did at you

“Well, have you been to Chinatown? Or Little Italy? I know this really nice restaurant not too far—”

“Great! I will grab my bag and you will show me.”

Needless to say, you were taken aback — but you couldn’t tell her no

When you started dating:

Yelena was so excited

Due to her past, she never got to have real relationships, be it romantic or platonic

So when she was able to room with a few Widows and live in NYC, she was ecstatic

Although you loved your home, it was nice to have somebody who wasn’t used to everything

The way her eyes lit up when you went somewhere new, especially for a date, was incredible

“I feel like I am in Sex and The City — Natasha never told me how fun it is here!”

At some point she gets really into photography; which you encourage, considering she didn’t have any hobbies before

Her name is “Yelena Beloved” in your contacts

Oh my god, she finds it so cute and gushes to the Widows

“Ah, I see what you did there! Funny joke on my name, I love it!”

Quite literally anything you do is worthy of her gushing

Her trust issues didn’t go away overnight — she’s a trained assassin — but there’s something about her personality that kept you intrigued

She’s very communicative, though, and it helps

You became the one person she felt like she could tell everything to

That being said, she can’t keep a secret from you

If she gets you something as a surprise, you immediately know

She grins and bites her lip and just looks at you, trying to refrain from spoiling it

It’s adorable to you, so you go along with it

“Can we get a dog?” “What?” “Kate Bishop has a dog, he is very fluffy. I think we need a fluffy dog.”

She loved Lucky so much and would spend time sending you memes or pictures of dogs, trying to convince you

Her hot sauce addiction

Two full rows in the fridge door

Just for hot sauce

If you weren’t able to handle the heat before, you definitely can now, considering she puts it on everything

Her favorite thing to do after dinner is listen to music and cuddle with you

If your hair is long enough, she likes to add matching little braids in it when she does her own hair

If you have short or no hair, she’ll let you practice on her and make cute styles

Usually, she tells you about Nat or when they lived in Ohio as you just lay on the couch

It’s nice to hear her reminisce on the good times

SLIGHT NSFW:

Yelena is very big on experimentation, whether it be kinks, adding people, moves, etc.

She’s pretty fluid as well, but doesn’t really label herself or who she’s attracted to

Getting into the BDSM community was a good outlet for you two

It lets her relax and focus on the present moment, where she’s safe

Granted, there are very passionate and heated sessions, but practicing is more calm

If you dom: she’s pleased, and enjoys your attitude

It’s firm, but still caring

She also loves to tease you and battle for dominance

Putting up a fight — whether she wants to win or not — is a common occurance

If she doms: she’s very big on teasing (shocker) and can be mean, but in the best way possible

Not all of your encounters are like that, though, some are just regular people having moments

But things like bondage provide the outlet and experimentation

Letting you tie her up was a big deal; it was one of the first big steps in being vulnerable with you

Now she’s hooked on it

Her aftercare is very specific; you two calm down and then she immediately starts cracking jokes again

She always makes sure to tell you how she felt about things afterwards, and it makes you happy

“Oh trust me, I will be rougher next time.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Like my stuff? Let me know! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, as it helps others find my stuff. Check out my blog for more.

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.��� It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[wakemeupfrommyslumber]

I JUST FINISHED TIMELESS AND I'M AAAA

It is going to be a huge text, so I will just highlight some points to the people who don't want to read it all. If you don't want to read everything just search for paragraphs like this

So, basically, I started watching timeless when it first aired in 2017. I passed trough the cancelling drama and stuff, but ended up not watching the second season because I was too busy for that.

Now, five years later, I have finally got my hands onto a streaming that has Timeless (I'm not from USA, so this took a while) and was ready to watch it. I finished everything in like three days and I'm just... a.

There's a lot of things that I think that happened just because they couldn't explore the plot well in 90 minutes. These thing's I'll highlight in green.

About Wyatt, Lyatt and Jessica

I actually liked Lyatt in the first season and the Hollywood episode was pretty nice. It was clear that they liked each other, and even though It wasn't mega exciting, I was happy for them. But then Jessica happened...

Wyatt was nice in the first season, but in the second one I think the writers tried really hard to make him despicable AND MANAGED TO DO IT.

I didn't hate him, but he was clearly dumb, selfish and the things that Jessica said about their marriage were never prooved to be wrong, so he was also explosive and dangerous. I was actually waiting for the series to reveal that he wasn't that cheating drunk man that Jessica portrayed, but it never did it.

Just look at how he punched Lucy! It was without intentions, but he couldn't control himself when she came closer! Man...

I think Jessica was really pregnant, but they didn't have time to explore it in the short season's finale so they just gave that terrible and quick excuse.

Like:

- Hey, what about that baby that would cause a big trouble or at least a really sad scene of Wyatt discovering that he was being fooled? - Oh, just make future Wyatt tell it was a lie in one line.

C'mon guys!!! The way the series portrayed before S02x11, Jessica actually really loved Wyatt and it was going to be a big problem for Rittenhouse in the future.

I understand that, just like Wyatt said, his situation was without precedents (usually your dead wife doesn't come back from the dead XD), BUT he was still acting terrible. Just like my babe Flynn said: Lucy is not your wife, the blonde girl is.

I can fully understand Wyatt and still despise him so much, it is just hard.

About Garcia Flynn and Garcy

First, I have to say that I have always loved Garcia Flynn. I watched the first season a long time ago so I couldn't remember exactly why, but it didn't take too long until I had fallen in love with him all over again.

Garcia is just charming, smart, funny and even though it concerns me, I felt completely in love with him everytime he punched a bad guy. This man is just... wow.

I have always tought that he and Lucy where just friends, really. I thought that he only admired her for who she was and for helping him (even though we didn't know how at the beggining) to revenge his family.

But man... It all started when Jessica came back. The way Flynn waited until she was clearly single to make a move on her... Not only smart, but so cute!

As they were always next to eachother we were able to see the way he looked at her... just... so sweetly. He knew her from the diary and started admiring her by that, but I believe that as soon as he started to know the person behind those writings it just was impossible not to fall in love.

That moment between them in the Chinatown episode I went just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA When she read about the kiss in the Titanic also, man! My heart even started racing! He takes care of her and knows how to do it, it was so obvious that he was in love and I just- I JUST CAN'T DEAL WITH IT.

She started to look for him, to trust him and actually pay attention on him in a romantic way...

They have only killed Flynn because he was a HUGE loose end. In a universe where Flynn exists Lucy would never end up with Wyatt.

His chemistry with Lucy was CLEAR and only growing every episode.

The way he was always there for her, the way their friendship was growing and revealing to be way more than that... Lyatt could never.

Lyatt was obvious and quick, something that I could have easily accepted to watch ending. Garcy was being built carefully with a good foundation. It was suposed to be Flynn with Lucy in the end.

Other points

It is also sad how Jiya's powers were just ignored in the last episode. I think that time related powers would have probably become a thing in the series and generate a lot of plot for us.

Timeless, in my point of view, could have been here with us for at least two more seasons.

I feel sad about how it was cancelled. I don't think it was a 10/10 series, but I still had a emotional conection with it and its characters. I almost cried when Rufus died and I didn't even knew that I loved him this much.

Lucy also decided out of nowhere not to save her sister because this was ALSO a loose end. I believe that her sister could have been a new villain.

And her father just giving up on Rittenhouse like this? A big no for me. It just happened for the series finale. We have already learned that people in Rittenhouse struggle a lot to get out.

Emma wasn't that weak to die so quickly and had already proofed herself to be actually dangerous. She KILLED the head of the Rittenhouse and people did nothing out of FEAR.

About characters

Jiya Marri was awesome with her powers and inteligence. I was completely OMGOMGOMGOMG when she ran away from Rittenhouse!

Rufus Carlin was cute, even though I have found him annoying sometimes.

As I said, I can't even remember why I did like Wyatt Logan in the first season.

Garcia Flynn will haunt my dreams just as Lorenzo from TVD has done (literally, I dreamt about him for weeks). I think that it is becoming too common for me to fall for european bad guys and I need to find my own XD

I can't believe how I started to like Lucy Preston. One of the saddest things in the series ending is that I won't be able to see more of her.

In the end, after 40 minutes writing, I just have to say that I enjoyed Timeless and it is really sad that it just has 2 seasons.

I give it a 8/10 for making me love the characters, even though i think that some dialogue lines where a little bit cheesy.

Thank you, Timeless, for everything that you provided to us.

~Especially Flynn~

[the-darklings]

—𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞;

⤫ pairing: johnny silverhand x corp!v(ermillion)

⤫ summary: Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them.

⤫ word count: 2.3k+

⤫ warnings: spoilers for act i & side mission the ballad of buck ravers, third person but can be read as RI ig, swearing, written in one sitting so who knows what the final result is - certainly not me. 

⤫ notes: let me leave my clown shoes outside.

It starts out the way it always does. 

One ring leads to another and she suddenly finds herself running or driving around the Night City with little to no rest, pulling one job after another. The more jobs she closes the more she seems to be in demand.

Good for business. Good for making a name for herself, too, but not so good on her overall being. 

She’s been running. Like a fucking coward. Filing her days with meaningless shit while trying desperately not to think about her ticking clock. About Jackie. 

Guilt gnaws on her bones daily. She should have done more, been better, more careful. Jackie never should have died. It was stupid and blind ambition that drove them both to try and pull this near impossible heist in the first place. Her own reckless drive has blinded her, and now the person closest to her in this fucking city is nothing more than a cold corpse. 

Fuck.

She should have sent him to his family instead. She only wanted to spare them from the grief of having to see Jackie in the state he was in but now Araska has his body and god knows what those assholes might be doing with it. 

And now…

Well she has nothing to lose, does she? She’s already dying, already hunted, her only close friend is dead. She promised to make him proud. Make it to the big leagues or make a league all on her own if that’s what it takes. Bleed this city dry if that’s the price to pay for what she wants. 

Back when she worked for Arasaka she wanted knowledge which led to power. Then she wanted guns and money and a roof over her head. 

Now she wants something more. After coming face to face with her own fragile morality, she has begun to realise how meaningless things like money and power are. Now she wants to surpass that. To become something immortal—something that will outlive her body. Maybe even outlive this city.  

Jackie should have been one of such people. 

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself,” a voice drawls from beside her, a crackle filling the air as a too familiar silhouette of a man appears in her sight. “Or cry.”

“Fuck off.”

V turns away from one Johnny Silverhand because it’s hard to look at him and not be reminded of the fact that she’s slowly dying and the construct only she can see and hear is the one doing the deed.

“This self-pitying bullshit needs to stop,” he says, ignoring her vicious words. “We share a brain, remember? I feel what you feel. It’s downright depressing in your head right now.”   

Her jaw clicks at the reminder. Everyday she wakes up and feels like they’re linked by a bridge—he stands on one side, and she on another. When they come closer, she can feel it—feel him. The overlap is near dizzying, overwhelming, even a little addictive. But it’s always followed by agony because she fights back, tries to shove him away. If not, he will consume her, but she will get him out of her head before that ever happens. 

You share a brain now, Vik had told her only days prior, his eyebrows knitted tight and—albeit subdued—but clear worry in his low voice, senses and memories, even perception. Eventually it will become impossible to tell whose who anymore. 

The worst thing is the fact that he’s right. 

She can feel Silverhand rooted inside her; a constant, a presence that is persistent to a point she knows she’s not alone even if she wishes to be. 

An echo of a being deep inside her.

“Then get the hell out,” she bites back, fighting to keep her temper leashed so she doesn’t burst out at him like she did at the diner. She can still remember the wary stares she received from the diners when she started shouting verbally at a figment only she could perceive in the first place. “I didn’t ask for a parasite to make himself home in my brain.”

Johnny scoffs under his breath, raising a cigarette to his mouth, and she’s nearly overcome with need to remind him that he’s fucking dead, and can’t smoke. That, and the fact that she would prefer him to leave her the fuck alone. 

“You did the job, didn’t ya? You sure you didn’t have this comin’?”

Flipping him off, she storms past him, her jaw clenched to appoint it aches and eyes narrowed. Just her luck not only to get stuck with a human tumour but for the said tumour to be a bastard to boot.  

So much for being buddies. 

Sun has set over Westbrook hours ago yet Chinatown is as busting with life as always. Overflowing with conversations all spoken in different languages, smells, distant gunshots, and people from all walks of life just trying to survive. Even during her years with the Arasaka, she never quite got used to the vastness of the Night City—not even when she was sure she was at the top. The way this city seems to breathe and fester day in and out; a living beast full of dangers and potential is unique. 

Lost in the crowd, it’s almost easy to forget who she is aside from another face in the said crowd. She’s not a merc, not an ex-corp working counterintelligence—she’s not anything. 

Her optics catch sight of several Tiger Claws lingering around the market, and she makes sure to give them a wide berth, especially when she notes the impressive list of their stats. She’s not stupid enough to attack outright when they outclass her—for now—and there are several of them around. With the market this busy the only outcome to that fight would be a bloodbath with police on her ass when that’s the last thing she needs right now. 

Despite that logical part inside her steering her well clear of the gang members the need to blow off some steam bubbles under her skin. An ache starts to form against her temple soon after, making her focus blur around the edges as she wanders from vendor to vendor aimlessly. 

“Hey, V,” a rumble of a voice cuts through her thoughts—and she hates how she can’t quite ignore his voice unlike everyone else—and turns her head in the direction of the call. She had foolishly assumed he was going to give her some peace of mind for tonight at least. “Check this guy out.”

Walking up a dimly lit staircase, she had barely noticed a man sitting on a rickety chair and playing a guitar. Much like her, others walk right past him, ignoring the man altogether. 

Johnny glimmers into sight, squatting in place and oddly intent on observing the old man while he plays.   

She entertains the idea of walking away simply to piss him off. If something is of interest to him, then she wants to ignore it so hard it gets under his nonexistent skin. Petty, perhaps, but ever so satisfying. 

Hearing no reply or receiving much reaction at all, Johnny slants his head her way, nodding once towards the man, “What do you think?”

Squinting, she drags her gaze towards the guitarist, crossing her arms over her chest while she listens. She’s not even sure why she’s bothering but…

The melody is slow, near drowned out by the bustling sounds of the nearby market and chatter of people walking past. 

“He’s...fine?” she offers lamely. “I mean he’s pretty good.”

A slight smirk crosses over Johnny’s mouth—gone in a blink but the focus he places on the man who seems to be unaware of her or the silent second spectator surprises her. 

“Loses tempo more than he keeps it,” he comments, almost absently, and she feels her eyebrows arch in another show of bewilderment. A quiet spells falls over their little nook, and Johnny listens more, thoughts rolling inside his head if his body language is any sign. “Sloppy on the technique but he has feeling in the way he plays. Can’t teach that.”

“If only you didn’t die,” she sighs softly, closing her eyes in mock sympathy. “This could have been you.”

He surprises her again by laughing at that. It’s a deep rumble of a sound, and she can almost feel it echo between them and their mental bridge. “You’re kinda of a bitch. Has anyone told you that before?”

Her teeth flash in the dim orange glow of the neon lights. “And you’re sort of a dick. Anyone tell you that before?” she wonders with a charming, practiced smile. 

He flickers out of sight and she’s about to call it a mental victory but a tickle of electricity kisses across the bare curve of her shoulder and neck, and she shivers when he appears beside her. His arms are crossed as well, and he glances her way briefly.

“Seems to me like we’re two peas in a fuckin’ pot, then,” he points out easily, and shakes his head, seemingly amused by his own words. “I might have tried to kill you a few weeks ago but look at us being chummy, Ver.”

Her throat closes up at that, expression tightening. He notices of course. Or maybe it’s the unease that slices through her mind at the casual way he uses her nickname. 

“What? Am I not allowed to call you that or somethin’?” he wonders curiously, seemingly entertained by her reaction. Asshole. 

“Only my friends call me Ver.”

Jackie was the first. 

That thought makes her swallow painfully, a dull ache clawing against her heart. One would think that years being a corpo would have wiped whatever humanity still lived in her but Jackie’s death had been a stark reminder that she couldn’t be further from the truth if she tried.  

“Why?”

She gives him a flat look. “Because my full name is Vermillion, but people tend to find it a mouthful so…”

“Vermillion,” he repeats, his intonation dry, and she shoots him a quick glare, daring him to make an issue of it. Naturally, his next words don’t surprise her, “That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

“Oh, because Johnny Silverhand is so much better.”

She expects him to say something snarky in return, argue maybe, but he only snorts. His metal hand lifts, pushing his aviators down slightly as he glances at her over them.

“You got me there.” 

Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them. Shadows and life of the Night City holding them both suspended in this moment. No arguments or biting comments. No guilt, either. 

A slight smile tugs across her mouth as she continues listening to the man play his downbeat little tune. Her shoulders loosen, drooping slightly and she lets herself breathe for a moment. Just the one. 

“Used to be just like him,” Johnny speaks up suddenly, his voice more subdued, lower, and taps his fingers against the cigarette he’s holding. “But better. Used to play everywhere we could. Garages, bars. Anywhere that would have us, and we always had an audience.”

She hums, offering him a brief glance. “You mean you were actually good?”

She can’t see his eyes in the darkness of the street or through his tinted shades. But despite that, she can still feel his glare and the mental bite of chagrin/irritation/why is she so annoying? and deeper than that a spark of amusement/little shit thinks she’s funny. 

“What’s this?” he muses, his words sarcastic. “A corpo rat that actually has a sense of humour? Colour me surprised.”

“No can do,” she shoots back promptly, fighting back a wider grin. “You’re too dead for that.”

He tsks, throwing his cigarette to the ground and she almost rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait to be out of your damn head, princess.” 

“Can’t wait to be rid of you, either, so the feeling is mutual.”

Their words might be stringent but she can almost taste the faint amusement trickling between them and under that bridge that connects them. 

“There might still be some bootlegs of those old days,” he muses thoughtfully. “People used to record everything back in my day.”

She drags her gaze his way, lips thinning into a firm line, “I’m not becoming a fan, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Afraid you’ll hear real music and won’t be able to go back to this modern garbage I hear everywhere?”

There is challenge in his words and she bristles. Maybe this is what she needs. She may not be able to put holes in some Tiger Claws with her sniper rifle but she sure as hell can go on a scavenger hunt and see what she finds. 

Besides, it might help her to understand the man nested inside her mind a little better.

So when an hour later the old, wrinkly vendor asks her why he should give her his oldest, most precious Samurai vinyl, she tells him the truth. 

A twisted truth. 

But truth all the same.

“He’s with me every step I take, every move I make,” she confesses softly, something deep down breathing awake at that admittance. “Johnny’s like my conscience. My eternal, infernal moral compass.”  

She doesn’t miss how the man in question doesn’t appear, doesn’t say anything even after hearing that. She would have figured he would be the first in line to offer her some mocking, snarky comment but there is only silence. 

In fact, she can barely feel him at all. The tether between them is still and quiet. 

And his silence says a lot more than he probably realises. 

.

an: hello. guess whose not dead and kinda back to writing. dunno how much of cp77 you should expect because coa is still my priority but maybe occasional fic for these dumbos is on the cards. oh, and takemura because cdpr are cowards for not giving us that enemies to friends/partners to lovers romance. also I know this isn’t strictly RI and I honestly considered writing it as such but saw...no point? since the premise still would have been the same, so something a little different today ig. 

[indianamoonshine]

c h a p t e r | i

summary: every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. it's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become...well, let's fact it...smitten.

rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won't ever go into physical detail about the reader's appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. so, without further ado, here's an aesthetically pleasing fanfic.

the moment din djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.

at first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. june in the midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.

you were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. you played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. he imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar’s. within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.

your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. he would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.

you must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. sweet as music.

"dad? is that you?"

din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. he manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.

your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.

"my daughter. one of them, anyway. she and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.

but you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. you reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.

he does. and it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.

"how do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. if he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.

your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.

|||

you were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.

you weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious din djarin.

"who is he?" charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. it was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.

rhea lays in the shade of a peach tree. "one of dad's old friends," she says. she waves herself with a floral paper fan she'd gotten from chinatown while visiting you in new york.

"but why is he here?"

madeline, who paints with her watercolors, pipes in. "i heard he got into some trouble with the law and now he's in hiding."

you roll your eyes with a scoff, lounging in the grass and watching the clouds in the bright, blue sky. "madeline, that's absurd."

rhea (who is the oldest and most pragmatic) surprises you when she shrugs her shoulders. "i don't know. he looks likes a bad boy..."

you recall the way his jaw clenched as you introduced yourself - his neck was tempting. his skin glowed with a radiant hue in the sunlight and his eyes shone with an aura of broodiness. he was very austenian.

"boy is hardly the word," you correct.

charlotte, being the flirt, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. she swims in the pond, hair wet and fanning against the water. she sinks lowly for dramatic effect. "how right you are."

"trouble or not, he was a perfect gentleman." rhea sighs and skims the water with her forefinger. "either way, he's easy on the eyes so i don't mind having him around."

easy on the eyes was putting it mildly. you wouldn't say that to the girls though; they had a habit of teasing when you showed interest in anyone attainable let alone a man decades older than you.

"don't do anything stupid, charlotte." madeline dips her paintbrush into her mason jar full of pond water.

charlotte huffs and flips her hair from her shoulder. it makes a splash, rippling the water as a result. "why not? we're all of legal age."

"he's dad's friend and a guest," you remind her, tearing your gaze away from the clouds.

the middle child lets out a pathetic whimper. "you guys are no fun," she groans.

|||

it was a busy season on the farm.

strawberries were ready to be picked by mid june and there was a three week window to do it. harvesting wasn't easy and it took a lot of man work. hands went numb, skin grew calloused. the sun that beat down on the fields was only manageable by the sprinklers that went off every blessed-ed fifteen minutes. during a drought, it was even worse.

the employees picked from seven in the morning until five in the evening. your father was adamant that breaks be plenty and pay be as prosperous as he could afford, but a strawberry farm wasn't a fortune five hundred company. he did what he could to provide the families with some semblance worthy enough to continue, and so every year he threw a dinner party.

it was always a lovely occasion, brimming with delectable treats and savory entrees. candles were aflame, lanterns lit up the pathway that lead to the entrance of the home and then the land leading into the woods. as a child, the dinner party was as exciting as a birthday. it was a night to look forward to all year long, sharing time with family and friends and gorging yourself on food you wouldn't eat any other friday of the week.

your sisters loved it too, mostly because they enjoyed the promise of gossip that poured from the mouths of guests like the wine served. and now that din djarin - a stranger, in all respects of the word - was attending an annual dinner that's managed to keep as tradition for years, gossip would surely be abundant as the wine itself.

guests arrived by the hour until the clock struck seven. the evening was crisp but warm enough to be comfortable without a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. the rock doves sung loudly to declare that sunset had begun, a few rogue and early lightning bugs blinking rhythmically. children of the employees ran throughout the fields bare footed and chanting taunts to their friends as their parents chattered among themselves.

home. here is home.

while the party had already begun (officially, at least), dinner hadn't yet been served. admittingly, you were a bit behind schedule, but you worked quickly to finish setting the tables. the theme was simple; linen napkins and wildflowers in random antique vases you found in your basement. the lilacs you'd picked from their bushes were already beginning to limp but you hoped no one would notice.

you hum when you work. whether it be intentional or not you find your lips buzzing with a tune plucked subconsciously from your brain as your hands busy themselves. you straighten the tablecloths, fill the vases with water, and set the silverware in their particular order. needless to say, you had a tendency to get lost in your own little world. so when a hand gently tapped you on the shoulder, you spun around with a shriek.

din djarin - man of the hour - is smirking handsomely at you, hands fiddling with a depressed looking lilac. you place a palm against your heart and count its beats. too many.

"mister djarin," you sigh out. "you scared me."

he lets out a breathy chuckle, hands running through his wavy locks. "i see that. i'm sorry, but i was just wondering if you'd like some help."

his voice...oh, stars and garters. it was so rough but tender - like a steak. you cock an eyebrow at how strange the comparison is but convince yourself it didn't matter. still, you're blushing from the jump so you duck your head from his gaze.

"there's not much left to do," you admit, turning back to the table. you spread your hands against the tablecloth to ward off any wrinkles. "you can double check if i missed any forks, i suppose. i have a tendency to do that."

din hums in his throat and nods a little. "sure," he says, moving to the first setting. his eyes scan along the silverware carefully. "where are your sisters? they don't help, huh?"

"they're better at entertaining," you say truthfully. "i volunteer to take care of the dinner part...as long as i don't have to socialize as much i'm content."

it was true. it's not that you had an aversion to people in general, but you tried to avoid conversation whenever possible - it wasn't your strong suit. you could get away with it when need be but you found it took too much energy to pretend to enjoy conversation about the weather or politics.

"i understand," din nods. he straightens a spoon with the nudge of his finger. "i find myself to be the same way."

there's an awkward silence between the two of you. you didn't know how to respond. while you weren't good at social situations in general, you found it natural to feign interest in subjects bland enough to circumvent discomfort...but you felt the need to impress him.

"so you'll be staying with us this summer then?" you decide, falling short. how stupid.

din nods swiftly. "yeah. in one of the cabins."

the cabins were located at various points of the land your father owned. in order to get there, one usually took an ATV or walked if the going gets tough. you preferred to stroll along the river, but your sisters liked riding the four wheelers or their bikes.

"which one?" you ask, tone mindless.

din's finished with double checking your work. he pulls out a chair - an old, wooden antique - and sits down upon it with caution. you stifle a laugh and, if he notices, he doesn't say anything. he'd soon learn that everything here was old but sturdier than they looked. you wish you could say it was for aesthetic purposes but it was more convenient than anything.

"the one closest to the pond," din replies lowly.

you notice how his eyes survey your form and how intimate it was. he was studying you but for whatever reason you couldn't be sure. you try to shake away the idea that he could be (dare you say?) pining over you. how silly. like you told charlotte: din djarin was off limis.

that was the end of it.

you find yourself blushing again so you hide your face. "that's my favorite one," you tell him honestly. "i like the view."

din smiles in agreement. "so do i."

if you weren't so heated with frustration, you would've called him out on the implication (as out of character for you it may be). then again, you found yourself weakened by the mere presence of this man. it wasn't unlike you, per say; you were naturally timid but there was an eagerness to his charm that you weren't familiar with. guys your age were so sure of themselves but it was almost always under false pretenses. this man however...well, he was a man and that was intimidating.

fine. it was hot.

you clear your throat in an effort to regain a semblance of poise. this summer had already proven to be laborious in a way you hadn't expected.