#but in the sense that like yeah people tend not to like a mafia state that steals from them i think

[straightlightyagami]

tbh as is often the case i think the statements of "maduro is corrupt and incompetent and should be replaced" (and moreover venezuela cannot be called socialist by the actual meaning of words..) and "the us sanctions bear a large part of if not the majority of the blame for the humanitarian crisis and their goal is to orchestrate regime change to get the oil" (it's always the oil) are both true

[queenlegacyproductions]

The Difference Love Can Make (A My Hero Academia Story) Chapter Three

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou X Shoto Todoroki X Morrigan Carter (Black!Plus Size!OC)  

AN: Guess who's back, back, back. Back again, again, again. Queen's back, back, back. Tell a friend. No, seriously. Please leave a comment. Let me know what you think of the story.

~///~

A few hours later, Morrigan found herself at her mom’s hero agency with Riley and Jordan, being tended to by medics. It was barely ten minutes after Morrigan and Riley managed to deal with the intruders for the cops and their mom to show up. Of course, Nephthys was stressed out and worried when she got the call from Jordan about Morrigan and Riley fighting some guy with phasing quirk and about how cold it was despite it being almost 90 degrees outside. She knew it could only be one villain that has that kind of power.

Cyro-Drive. Quirk - Cryo-phasing. He can freeze anything he phases through be it a wall, car or even people. Nephthys wasn’t dumb. She knew about all villains, including those not in the states. She only did that so she wouldn’t be caught off guard by anyone, should they manage to get past country borders. 

Like now.

Currently, Nephthys was in her office, having an emergency meeting with the hero commission or the hero mafia as Morrigan likes to call it. Morrigan wasn’t slow. Morrigan paid attention to the news and she paid attention to her mother. She’d see how beat down she was when she came home after work and what the news was saying every night. News would say that everything was ok, just some small crimes taking place like an occasional bank robbery or illegal usage of a quirk. But Morrigan knew her moms wouldn’t be so run down if it was only small crime, which led her to do some digging. 

Up until now, there had been reports of break-ins and missing people. The agenda was the same; lights went out in the house and when they came back on, someone was either gone or frozen solid from the inside out and sometimes it was both. She recognized the pattern already and knew what to do. She did scouting for weeks on end in search of his hangout or at least find some of the missing people to finally piece together why one of Japan’s top-priority villains was in the states in her city. The hero commission was doing their best to keep the people calm as the spike of criminal activity by keeping her in the positive light of the media. However, they were getting impatient with her in providing answers, despite her asking for extra help with it. Their answer was always the same; ‘Bringing in more heroes onto this will cause unrest in the city as the people would begin to feel like the city’s unsafe.’

So instead of telling the people the truth, they rather give the people a false sense of security at the expense of her mother’s sleep?

‘Muria, amirite?

Morrigan was then taken out of her thoughts when she felt a stinging sensation on her head. “Ow! What is you doin’, man?” She asked the nurse who puts her hands up in defense, scared of her outburst. 

“I-I’m sorry but your head’s bleeding rather profusely.” The nurse stuttered. Morrigan goes to make a response when she sees the head of the hero commission leave her mom’s office. Without hesitation, she gets up and walks to her mom’s office. She doesn’t even bother to knock when she walks in. 

“Ma, what’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing.” She demanded when she closed the door behind her.

“Watch yourself, Missy. You forgot who your mama is.” Nephthys said as she shot her daughter a glare. Morrigan rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, my momma who’s apparently ducking my question.” Morrigan sucks her teeth. “Mmmcht, why don’t you tell me what’s going on and why me and Riley basically got into a scrimmage with a renowned villain from Japan, mind you?” She crosses her arms. 

“Japan?” Nephthys and Morrigan look towards the door, seeing Jordan and Riley. “Mama, what is she talkin’ ‘bout?” Nephthys sighs, realizing she’s basically cornered. 

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. You guys are just as involved in this now.” She gestures to the chairs in front of the desk for the girls to take a seat.

~///~

“...And that’s pretty much where we are so far.” There was a moment of silence as the girls processed the info that was just relayed to them. Morrigan’s mouth opened and closed before she spoke.

“So you mean to tell me…based on what you just told us…that the only major hero in the states that is actively tracking down a national threat to Japan and now possibly the U.S…is you. Because God forbid, they actually alert the people so they can stay safe.”

“Morrigan, you also have to keep in mind; Americans are not exactly the smartest. Some of them would actually try to take the law into their own hands.” Jordan mentions.

“At that point, it’s natural selection. You have to talk that up with the lord, not the heroes.” Morrigan just waves her off. 

“But it’s our job to protect them. That even means from themselves.” Nephthys said before she places her forearms on the desk. “Look, I don’t like it anymore than you guys do but that’s how things go…until now.” The girls’ eyebrows raised simultaneously. 

“What do you mean about that, mama?” Riley asked.

“What I mean is that, thanks to the incident that happened at the manor, Cryo-Drive has now been reported to be fleeting back to Japan. Something about Nephthys’ brats getting the better of him.�� 

“Just barely. If It hadn’t been for Riley, I’d prolly been a frozen corpse by now.” Morrigan fell back into her chair in defeat. Riley looks at her with peak confusion. 

“The hell-?” She paused when she saw the look on her mom’s face. “Heck are you talkin’ about? I’m pretty sure you would’ve set the house on fire if I didn’t drop him, the room was so hot.” 

“And yet, I couldn’t fucking get any real offense in. Granted if I did, I would’ve set the block ablaze. I just-.” Nephthys recognized that look Morrigan had on her face as she stared up at the lights. It was a look of frustration at herself. Nephthys knew she trained day in and day out to protect those in need and her loved ones. To feel so helpless in the face of a villain…

“And yet you managed to get one of Japan’s most dangerous villains to hit the dash back overseas.” Jordan said. “What’s wrong with that?” There was a sudden chill in the room as Morrigan lost all emotion in her face.

“He got away because I thought I was sweet and got big-headed. Yes, I managed to defend myself but just barely. So if I can barely defend myself, how the fuck am i supposed to defend others?” Morrigan asked. “I still got a long way to go and a lot to learn and there’s no school in America that can adequately train me.” 

“Well, lucky for you, you not going to a hero school in America.” Nephthys said. She almost lost her composure laughing when she saw the flummoxed looks on her daughter’s faces. 

“What-?” Morrigan sputters a laugh in disbelief. ‘Whatchu mean I’m not goin’ to a hero school in America? Where am I’m goin’ then?” 

“What I mean is that I just spoke with your guys’ teachers. After what happened and with Cryo-Drive fleeing back to Japan, the hero commission wants me to travel to Japan to help track him down. He’s been giving the heroes there the slip for quite some time, even duckin’ All Might’s grasp. But if I agree to go, I would have to bring you guys along and transfer you to another school. But in speaking with your teachers, Riley and Morrigan have enough credits to graduate early, that wouldn’t be necessary. So the only thing I would have to do was apply you two to a hero high school but the only one adequate to take you is-.” 

“U.A.” Riley finished. Morrigan leans forward on her head, elbows on her knees as she thinks.

“So mama, you saying that Morrigan and Riley could attend U.A. after all?” Jordan asked the question that plagued everyone’s mind.

“Indeed. And you, my dear, would be attending Somei as well.” Nephthys explained. “So…what did you say?” 

“Hell yeah! Leggo!” Riley cheered.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go! Let’s go!” Jordan cheered as well. Nephthys then looks to Morrigan who hasn’t moved from her position. 

“Morrigan? What about you?” There was a few minutes of silence before Morrigan sighs, leaning back into her seat.

“How long’s the flight?”

[crownquill]

Wait the mafia is real? Like a real thing? What?? Sorry I thought that the mafia and Costco were just comic things

Yeah they are very real and no they arent "comic"

How the mafia uses violence to control politics -

Italy is not the only country with an organized crime problem. But movies and TV shows like “Scarface,” “The Godfather” and “Gomorrah” have made the Italian mobs – in both their southern Italian and American incarnations – world-famous.

Such pop culture portrayals tend to romanticize a dangerous phenomenon that’s all too real for those whose lives it affects.

What TV and movies have often gotten right, however, is the idea that Italy’s criminal networks are powerful enough to threaten the government.

Overall Effects of the American Mafia in the Prohibiton Era

The effect the Mafia had in crimes such as killing also rose during prohibition. From 1920-1930, the murder rate grew 78%. On a national level the murder rate per 100,000 people rose almost two thirds.

The Italian mafia and violence against women

Young girls lose their sense of identity in the ‘ndrangheta’s system. They are required to obey and serve the men of the family. Some women do not have their own bank accounts, are not permitted to drive and cannot leave the house without permission or a male chaperon. They must do whatever is demanded by the family – criminal or otherwise.

Disobedience is not tolerated because it tarnishes the family’s honour and standing in the community. Omertà - the vow of absolute silence - is an important factor in their definition of honour. The punishment for breaking that silence can range from severe beatings to death. 

The Real Migrant Crime Wave: Mafia Exploitation of Migrants in Sicily

Many Nigerians who become involved in crime do so after leaving refugee camps before their legal status is determined, which offers them little opportunity for legitimate employment. Not only does this place the criminals themselves in a precarious position – outcasts from their host country, subordinate to a ruthless Cosa Nostra, and under perpetual scrutiny from law enforcement – it also places other Nigerian migrants, the vast majority of which are not engaged in any criminal activity, at risk as well.

Prostitution and the Mafia: The Involvement of Organized Crime in the Global Sex Trade

In analyzing the role of organized crime in the global sex trade, the essay focuses on Asia, the Middle East, Latin America, Africa, Europe, and the United States. The author concludes that it is clear criminal organizations frequently traffic women and children for forced prostitution and that these organizations provide security, support, or liaison services to pimps, brothel owners, and other mafia groups.

Italian judges removing children from mafia families are right to think long term

In the fight against the ’Ndrangheta so far, child protection can be justified on the basis of the pervasiveness of the mafia subculture within the home. But it may take generations to tell whether the policy will have a long-term impact on the culture of these mafia families.

[just-come-baek]

get in, loser 3

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | streetracer!reader | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: Taeyong has another assignment for me, and though it seems quite simple, I could not foresee these complications. Also, why do actions have consequences? Somebody should’ve warned me before!

Warnings: mentions of murder | alcohol consumption | assault attempt | roofied drink | police negligence | drug smuggling | drug usage | poor stress management | drop dead goregeous men | foul language | 

A/N First of all, special thanks to Ally for supporting me through ko-fi! 🥰 Also, sorry for not updating it sooner, I’ve been busy with work and college, the next chapter will be probably around New Year, since I’d like to write something christmasy. 🎄Enjoy~~ 

There’s something unexplainable about Taeyong.

He’s a living paradox; on one side, he’s a ruthless mafia boss who won’t hesitate to attack people who had dared to wrong him. However, on the other, he’s a caring leader that is ready to go out of his way to protect his loyal associates.

Though it was, give or take, two weeks since I got to know him personally, I could deduct this much. There was nothing he valued more than loyalty, and I made a mental note to myself to never let him down, especially in this department.

Despite witnessing him murder Haechan and Jisung, I felt oddly safe in his arms, and it was alarming as fuck. Only God knows how many red flags I decided to ignore this night for the sake of his warm embrace. Perhaps it was stupid and reckless, but I didn’t care.

I was scared, and it provided me with warmth and comfort. Taeyong was the one who inflicted the wound on my mind by making me torture Haechan. However, at the same time, he was helping me to treat it with his support.

I didn’t do anything wrong. However, according to Taeyong’s twisted sense of justice, it should be me to punish them – an eye for an eye and all of that bullshit.

As soon as Taeyong led me out of the basement, he leaned in. His whisper tickled my sensitive skin as he ordered me to wait for him in my new car. With a slight nod of my head, I exited the mansion, awfully glad he let me go. Though I tried to forget it even happened, my mind was replaying all of the events from the last hour, making me sick.

The cold fresh breeze hit my face, making me shiver. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I made my way to the vehicle. Once inside, I turned on the music player, looking through for my therapy playlist.

The first song on the playlist was “Don’t Cha” by The Pussycat Dolls, and I nervously began tapping my fingers against the steering wheel in the rhythm. At some point, I unconsciously started singing my heart out, and it actually helped me calm down my nerves.

Unfortunately, the sensation was short-lived. As soon as Taeyong sat down in the passenger seat and closed the doors, I once again became a nervous wreck.

What did he want to discuss with me in private?

“Your opponents didn’t make it easy for you, did they?” Taeyong asked with a mischievous smirk upon his face after he saw the current state of the car.

“It’s just a couple of scratches; it’s no big deal,” I stated, trying to brush it off. Though it pained me, I knew Doyoung would gladly help me fix the vehicle in exchange for a fancy bottle of booze. (And some free ride coupons if he happened to be extra whiny.)

“So…” I cleared my throat, trying not to seem overly intimidated by his presence. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, avoiding his dominant gaze. Under the influence of Taeyong's penetrating eyes, I’d most likely agree to anything in a heartbeat, and that’s not what I wanted at the moment. I had to be assertive and stand my ground.

“First of all, where is the money you won tonight?” Taeyong inquired, and I tilted my head toward the glove compartment, where I had stuffed all the cash I had won in the race. With a playful smirk, Taeyong reached in, pulled out the bag, and looked inside.

“You made me really proud tonight,” he commented, staring at the money before he put his hand into the bag and threw a handful of cash on my thighs. “That’s the tip, spend it wisely,” Taeyong added, and I smiled sheepishly, having no idea what I could spend this money on.

“Thanks,” I answered out of courtesy.

“I know you must be exhausted, so I’ll be quick,” Taeyong started, and I smiled, glad he understood my state. I had survived a couple of terribly tiring days, and right now, I just wanted to return to my tiny apartment, crawl under the covers, and sleep to my heart’s content.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Next Saturday, I have a business to tend to, and I’ll be needing a driver,” Taeyong explained vaguely, and I nodded my head, making a mental note of it. “Normally, I’d ask Lucas, but we’re a bit understaffed right now, so he’s going to be pretty busy.”

If I wasn’t half-asleep by now, I would be outraged. Ever since I had stolen Taeyong’s vehicle, I put my blood, sweat, and tears into proving I could be a legit gang member. And now, they were looking for recruits, the nerve! Partially, I might’ve been an indirect reason they were understaffed at the moment, yet it still managed to anger me.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do it,” I replied dismissively, not even bothering to ask for any additional information. The case seemed too easy; there must’ve been a catch, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted this conversation to be over with. Taeyong wouldn’t assign me to this task if he didn’t believe I could pull through, so I naturally agreed, hoping I wouldn’t regret this negligence.

“Someone will text you more details sometime next week until then, get some rest, you look like you need lots of it,” Taeyong spoke teasingly as he once again eyed me from head to toe. I could only guess how awful I looked with the bruises, the eye bags, and an unimpressed frown on my face.

“Gee, thanks for that,” I jested, making Taeyong smirk in response.

“See you soon, doll,” having leaned toward me, he whispered before pressing a delicate kiss in the corner of my mouth, confusing the hell out of me.

What the hell was that?

***

Though at first, I was doubtful, I somehow managed to get better over the week. I still had a vivid picture in my mind of the crime scene unfolding in front of me, but it didn’t bother me as much as it had earlier. Also, I didn’t feel like throwing up out of stress when I thought of Taeyong. As time passed, all the intensity seemed to wear off, and I was glad because I wasn’t ready to take in any more stress.

Right now, I felt great.

Most of the bruises already healed, and I slept to my heart’s content and even went to the fitness club for some yoga classes. Last night, Doyoung and I had a sleepover at my place with classic 90’s movies, unhealthy snacks, and fruity face masks.

Life’s beautiful, I’d say.

Just as Taeyong had said, someone had texted me the details about the next gig. It was Lucas, and as much as I liked hearing from him, I’d much prefer a face-to-face encounter. He was hot as fuck, and though out of my league, I would love to appreciate his ethereal beauty in person instead of imagining him in yet another gorgeous outfit. I just couldn’t help myself; it was his fault he looked like his place was on the cover of Men’s Health.

His message was short, but it provided me with a lot of information, and in all honesty, I was glad he didn’t give me too many details. All I had to do was to escort Taeyong and his friend to a nightclub outside the city and drive them back to the mansion. The car would await me in Taeyong’s driveway, and I should arrive about half an hour before the departure. Oh, and of course, what the dress code was – nightlife extravaganza.

I had no idea what business they were to tend to, but I decided it was for the better. The less I knew about Taeyong's dirty dealings, the less trouble I was getting myself into. If I knew what they were about to do, I might’ve found myself in yet another one stress-heavy episode. It seemed like the only reasonable option to stay the hell away from any possible stress factors.

“How do I look?” I asked Doyoung as I stepped out of my bathroom, letting him check out the outfit. I was wearing a black two-piece, consisting of a cropped top with straps around the waist and a pair of high-waisted leather skinny pants. With ankle strap red high heels, a matching quilted purse, and sharp make-up, I felt sexy and empowered.

“You look like a badass CEO, is this the look you were going for?” Doyoung stated after carefully judging my outfit. Sighing, he put one leg over another. “I like it,” he smiled, giving me thumbs up. “Top it off with that leather jacket, and you’re good to go.”

“The black one or the red one?” I asked, looking at the jackets, wondering which would suit me better, ignoring ‘the really???’ look that Doyoung was giving me. “OK, never mind, sorry I asked,” I groaned, throwing the black jacket at Doyoung’s face, putting the red one over my shoulders.

“Mr. Bad Boy won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” Doyoung remarked in a snarky manner, and I stuck my tongue out, trying to ignore the verbal jab. Very sophisticated conversation between two best friends, I had to admit.

“I won’t even reply to that,” I sighed and went to the mirror to check out if my make-up needed any retouch. Doyoung must’ve really thought I was trying to impress Taeyong with the outfit, and to be honest, it was the least of my worries. Though we barely spoke with each other, Taeyong didn’t seem to understand the meaning of personal space, so I doubted he cared what I was wearing. As long as I’d let him take it off, he would be satisfied.

Not that I thought about letting him do that…

I was a professional, and sleeping with my boss, or even thinking about it isn’t at the top of my priorities. I’m a skilled car racer and a thief, and that’s what I’m planning on focusing on.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Close the doors when you leave, okay?” I told Doyoung, and he smiled, lying on the couch, reaching for the TV remote.

“No worries, I’ll just watch the game, clean up the mess you made, and leave,” he said before he stuffed his mouth with a handful of potato chips. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

***

Punctually, I parked my cute Fiat on Taeyong’s driveway right next to a big ass black Hummer. Having got out of my tiny vehicle, I made my way around the monster truck, seeing Lucas in the driver seat, setting up the navigation system. I knocked on the window, and the man turned his head around in a second, sending me a playful smirk.

God, he’s ridiculously hot. My memory didn’t do him justice. With his hair swept back, in a loose red jacket and a low-cut black t-shirt, he looked mesmerizing. A minute later, he exited the vehicle, and I saw him in all his tall glory, and for a brief second, I forgot how to breathe.

It was the effect® Lucas had on regular people.

“The keys are in the ignition, the location already typed into the GPS system. Taeyong and the other guy should be here in a few,” Lucas said, and I nodded.

Who’s the other guy?

Not even Lucas knows his name?

Strange…

“Hello to you, too,” I spoke, smiling at him. Taeyong was nowhere to be seen, so I cleared my throat before firing a question, initiating small talk. “How is recruiting going?” I inquired, genuinely curious about the progress he must’ve made.

“Nothing much yet, but I’m full of hope,” Lucas answered honestly, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, you inspired me to broaden my horizons,” he added, and I cocked up my eyebrow, wanting him to continue. Did I inspire him? Wow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve done some impressive shit,” Lucas confirmed, and I blushed at the compliment. “I’ve figured we need more women in our field, and I’ve talked to two best female candidates I could find. Right now, we discuss terms of recruitment,” Lucas explained excitedly, and I was positively shocked to hear such news.

Did someone hit him in the head with the feminism manifesto, or what?

“I don’t know what to say…” I whispered, trying to wrap my head around the newest revelation. Having experienced the treatment I received from most of them, it was hard to believe it took them so little time to change their mindset. I mean… it was just Lucas for now, but the change was already visible. “I’m happy to hear that; I can’t wait to meet them,” I added, turning my head to the side upon seeing Taeyong and his friend.

“Meet who?” Taeyong asked in confusion as he didn’t know the full context of our conversation.

“We were just talking about new recruits. I fill you in as soon as I have everything confirmed,” Lucas spoke. Taeyong nodded his head in comprehension, not even half as interested as I was. “Have a safe trip. I’ll get going,” he excused himself before walking away to a white Lamborghini Huracan.

“Missed me, doll?” Taeyong asked with a suggestive smirk decorating his face, as he bit on his bottom lip, glancing at me from head to toe. Yikes! It was unprofessional, and I wanted to scold him for being such a caveman. However, on a second thought, I decided to straighten my back to assert my confidence. Taeyong just wanted to express his appreciation for my fantastic outfit. Even though he chose the creepiest way of doing it, I chose to ignore it with a subtle eye roll.

“Is he always this nasty with you?” The mysterious man asked me as he walked past Taeyong, stretching his hand, greeting me like a regular person. “Pardon him, I’ve told him many times to work on his manners, but it’s like talking to a wall,” he added, and I chuckled, respecting the man already. He was talking shit about Taeyong in his presence – it was admirable.

“Who’s nasty? Speak for yourself!” Taeyong yelled, but his shorter friend just brushed it off.

“I kind of got used to it,” I replied casually, trying to give him a neutral answer.

“I’m Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, but since no one can pronounce it right, everybody calls me Ten,” he introduced himself, and I replied with my name, hoping he would use it instead of yet another infantile nickname.

“Nice to meet you, Ten,” I answered, smiling at the man politely.

“Should we get going?” Having cleared his throat, Taeyong asked, urging us inside of the vehicle. Following Taeyong’s order, I smirked, thinking of his ridiculous behavior. It was the first time when I didn’t give him my full attention, and it was evident it bothered him.

It was new and refreshing, and it was kind of cute of him.

“Yeah, sure, get in, losers, we don’t have all night,” I added, growing a little bit impatient with their slow movements.

“You really have to stop calling me that,” Taeyong whispered in a low voice as he put his hand on my thigh and gave it a firm squeeze.

“And you really have to fasten your seatbelts, or we’re not going anywhere,” I teased with a big, artificial smile, scraping his hand off my thigh. “Those rules apply to you, too,” I added, looking into the rearview mirror, catching Ten sitting comfortably, ignoring seatbelts.

“Is she always like this?” Ten asked, yet obediently following my instructions.

“No. Usually, she’s way cooler,” Taeyong answered, pouting slightly.

***

A little over an hour later, I parked the Hummer in front of a night club. Apparently, all types of shady dealings were meant to be discussed over strong liquor and with a half-naked lady sitting on their laps.

“Good luck, boys,” having turned off the engine, I spoke, sounding awfully like a mom, dropping her kids at another soccer practice.

Annoyed, Taeyong smirked. “Oh no, you’re going with us,” he added, and I cursed under my breath, displeased that Taeyong managed to ruin my plans of staying behind and not getting involved in whatever business they were about to discuss. The less I knew, the better, and Taeyong was really making it difficult for me.

Trailing slowly behind them, I entered the club.

“Get anything you want. We’ll be back in a few,” Taeyong whispered into my ear as he slid his platinum credit card into my palm. “Don’t cause any trouble,” he added before they both walked away to the booth at the back of the establishment.

I still could see them, though they were outside my earshot. It couldn’t get any better. I wouldn’t have to worry about hearing anything that wasn’t meant for my ears. However, at the same time, I could appreciate their natural beauty, fashion sense, and confidence in their original habitat.

I was a designated driver tonight (duh), and it was more than irresponsible to buy myself an alcoholic drink – especially with my ridiculously low alcohol tolerance. Leaning over the counter, much to the bartender’s dismay, I ordered a virgin Mojito.

Having checked whether or not the bartender spat into my drink, I picked up the glass, wrapped my lips around the straw, and took a sip. Though it was delicious, I’d much prefer it to have some alcohol in it. Maybe next time, perhaps tomorrow on my day off, I told myself as I spun on the barstool to have a look at Taeyong and Ten.

They both looked gorgeous, though they didn’t fit the typical mobster description.

Taeyong had his now baby blue hair styled down, a white suit jacket, a baby blue T-shirt, and light pants that made him look like some lawyer on a business trip. Ten, on the other hand, with his messy parted bangs hairstyle, an olive bomber jacket, black hoodie, and a pair of black cargo pants, resembled a lost college student.

The men, who they were meeting, were a completely different story, though. All of them seemed like lethal mobsters with their short hair and all leather outfits. I knew for sure I wouldn’t like to stumble upon them in a dark alley. Without any doubt, they had guns on them, and I was fearful enough to turn my head around and return to my drink.

Not knowing how much time it would take them to discuss all terms of whatever agreement they wanted to sign on, I decided to text Doyoung to pass the time. Unfortunately, before I managed to pull out my phone, my drink got knocked over by a very drunk girl sitting on the barstool next to mine.

“Hey, watch it!” I shouted as I jumped off my stool, not wanting to get all wet. In a matter of a few seconds, the bartender rushed over, helping me wipe off the counter.

“I’m really sawwy,” she said in a drunken haze, and I rolled my eyes, not really wanting to start an argument with an intoxicated person. When drunk, I also tend to be more clumsy than usual, so I simply decided not to hold her accountable for such a minor mistake.

Having apologized for spilling my drink, she excused herself, leaving her date at the bar alone. A good-looking man ordered another round of cocktails for him and his date. I cocked my eyebrows at his behavior. She was already drunk; another drink wouldn’t make her any good.

In a minute, the bartender placed two cranberry vodkas on the counter, putting it on the man’s tab. At first, I wanted to mind my own business and not attract any unnecessary attention. However, when I noticed the man slipping something into the woman’s drink, I knew I needed to intervene. He wanted to hurt her, and I just couldn’t let that happen.

Sighing, I jumped off the barstool and marched to the bathroom, wanting to warn her. Thankfully, she was standing in front of the mirrors, washing her hands when I found her.

Casually, I stopped next to her and pulled out my lipstick to reapply it.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, watching her wobble in her ridiculously high stilettos. She was barely standing on her feet – she was in no condition to have yet another drink, let alone a drink spiked with some type of drug.

“I feel funny. I had one drink, yet I feel like I had five,” the woman commented, placing her purse next to the basin, searching for cosmetics to touch up her make-up. “It must be because I barely ate today, I was so stressed about this date, so I only had breakfast,” she added, but it didn’t calm me. If anything, it made me even more alert.

“Is it your first date with him?” I inquired, trying not to sound intrusive. She seemed a bit naïve, and I wanted to look out for her. If I could prevent her from getting hurt, I had to try.

“Yeah, he asked me out yesterday in a coffee shop next to my building. He’s so romantic,” the woman explained dreamily, and I refrained from groaning in distaste. What kind of dudes did she date in the past to think this guy was romantic?

That was all I needed to know to figure out that he just wanted to get laid and toss her aside. He just wanted to use her body without even earning her consent. No matter how good looking he was – it was unjustifiable. I couldn’t let her go to him and become a victim. I had to try and prevent her from getting hurt.

“Are you sure you want to go back to him in this state? If I were you, I’d reschedule,” I commented, trying to talk her out of continuing this date.

“What is your problem?” asked she, her tone laced with anger and irritation. “I’m on a date, and you keep ruining it. What’s your deal?”

Wow, that was rude.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She couldn’t be for real, right?

“Listen–” I started, trying to defend my case, but she, once again, interjected me.

“No, you listen! I’m on a date with his hot man. You may try your luck somewhere else. I can bet you’ll find someone willing to fuck you but buzz off from me, and my man,” she hissed, and I just blinked a couple times, trying to comprehend what just happened. Though she was annoying the hell out of me, I still had to help her. Perhaps she didn’t fully deserve my saving, but I had to try. Friends or enemies, she didn’t merit to be taken advantage of.

Trying to flee the scene, she grabbed her purse and turned around to storm out of the bathroom. Fortunately, I managed to wrap my hand around her wrist before she made her way to the doors.

“Get a grip, woman!” I shouted at her, hoping she would listen to my loud voice – especially when she didn’t seem to particularly enjoy my calm and worried tone. “He roofied your drink and wants to take advantage of you. You better get yourself a ride home and leave.”

She looked at me, and I looked at her, having an intense stare contest. She must’ve been weighing her options before she tore her arm from my grasp.

“I can take care of myself,” she added before leaving the bathroom.

I tried, I told myself, but it still made me uneasy. She didn’t listen to my warnings, and she was about to get hurt, and it made me feel remorseful. I didn’t do my best. I still could prevent her from getting assaulted.

Heaving a deep sigh, I left the bathroom, determined to stop the man from drugging her even if I had to swallow the poison myself.

They were sitting by the bar as earlier. She was laughing at his joke, and he had his hand on her thigh. They seemed comfortable, but I knew enough to realize it was superficial.

Slowly, I approached them, stumbling over my legs, pretending to be shitfaced drunk. Once the drink was within my reach, I fake-tripped, spilling the alcohol on the man’s laps.

“You bitch,” he yelled in absolute anger. Apparently, he didn’t like it when his plan fell through. “Look what you’ve done!” He jumped to his feet, trying to wipe off his jeans.

Unfortunately, his furious outburst brought lots of attention to us. Instinctively, I turned to look at Taeyong. He was staring at me, mouthing, get out.

It was my much-awaited cue, so I gave this gross man some half-ass apology and left the club without any second thoughts. I had enough of this drama; I’d rather wait for them in the car.

Patiently, I waited for Taeyong and Ten to return. Time flew by quickly as I browsed my social media feed, forwarding the funniest memes to Doyoung.

Maybe thirty minutes later, Taeyong knocked on the window, wanting me to open the trunk. Two huge men with heavy leather jackets and gold chains around their necks threw four enormous black bags into the trunk, shutting it close with a loud thud.

I had no idea what the cargo was, but it didn’t sit right with me. Whatever it was, it must’ve been illegal, and it made me jumpy.

“What’s in the bags?” I asked carelessly, regretting my questing the second it left my mouth.

“Do you really want to know?” Taeyong challenged, and I vigorously shook my head in firm denial. Chuckling, he added, “Just samples.”

“Right,” I answered, dismissing the topic. Quickly, I turned on the engine and drove away, wanting to get back to the mansion as fast as it was lawfully possible.

Unfortunately, not talking about the cargo didn’t make me stop thinking about what’s inside the bags. Taeyong’s business has many branches, varying in dozens of illegal activities. Regardless of what was sitting in the trunk, we would all go to prison if caught.

“What kind of trouble did you cause when I specifically requested you didn’t?” Taeyong asked somewhat throughout the ride. His hands were squeezed in fists, resting on his thighs as he waited for my answer.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I genuinely apologized before I began pleading my case. Hopefully, with proper justification for my actions, Taeyong would understand. He was a human, after all. “I just couldn’t stay idle and watch this nightmare unfold in front of me. I had to help this girl out, even though she didn’t seem to appreciate it."

“Jaehyun was right about you,” Taeyong whispered mysteriously, making me raise an eyebrow in confusion. What kind of prejudice Jaehyun held against me? “You’re way too nice for this job,” he added, and I took a deep sigh, expecting a much worse response.

Though it pained me, it was understandable that being good was a bad thing in this line of business. Typically, I’d be glad to hear such a compliment, but under these circumstances, it made me upset. I wasn’t a saint, but I had some sort of a moral backbone.

“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” I trailed off, thinking of the best way to present my abilities in the most fitting way.

“It was admirable if you want some second-hand opinion,” Ten interjected, pretty amazed with my attitude. “You should’ve punched him in the face, though. I’d love to see that,” he added, and I giggled, picturing my fist colliding against his jaw.

That would be a very nice picture.

“Can you drop me off at the Moonlight club? I’d like to meet with a friend of mine if that’s not a problem?” Ten asked, and I hummed in agreement, punching the club location into a navigation system. It was on our way, so it really wasn’t a nuisance.

“Sure thing,” I added, returning my focus on driving. Unfortunately, as soon as I shifted my attention to the front of our lane, I saw a car overtaking the Hummer. A second later, it flashed red and blue lights right, mentioning for me to stop the vehicle on the side of the road.

The police cruiser.

FUCK.

It was impossible. After doing so much illegal stuff, it was ironic to get caught when properly driving. It was a bad sign, and in a matter of seconds, I turned into an anxious ball of stress.

What a lame way to the end of my career!

OK, you gotta keep calm. Normal women can bullshit their way out of getting a ticket, so you can do it, too! I tried to psych myself up, though it didn’t help much. My mouth was still dry, and my hands were all sweaty. They’re about to discover I’m hiding some illegal stuff in the trunk. I couldn’t go to prison – orange is definitely NOT the new black.

“You can do it, doll. Don’t lose your cool,” Taeyong whispered, giving me an encouraging squeeze on the knee. Admittedly, it didn’t work.

“Yeah, don’t even think of all the drugs we have the trunk stocked up with,” Ten added, and I angrily turned back to yell at him for giving me info that I did not want nor need.

“Why would you say that?!” I shouted, trying to collect my thoughts. Cool, cool, cool, cool. You got this. You’ve survived worse. “If we make out of this alive, I’m gonna kill you,” I warned Ten before I straightened my backs, rolling down the window for the policeman who approached the vehicle.

“Good evening, Mr. Officer,” I beamed innocently, trying to read the policeman’s surname off the uniform, yet in vain. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes in a poor attempt at flirtation.

Yikes, so much cringe!

“Driving license and vehicle registration certificate,” said the police officer coldly, completely ignoring my pathetic wooing. Unwillingly, I handed him the documents, praying to all the gods for him not to investigate the trunk. “Please, step out of the vehicle,” he added, and I followed his orders, ready to cooperate if he was willing to overlook the car inspection.

Obediently, I entered the backseat of the police cruiser, awaiting the interrogation.

“I’m an experienced driver. Did I make a mistake?” I inquired, waiting for them to give me the reason for pulling me over. My driving skills are mastered to perfection. I was really interested in what lame-ass excuse they were about to conjure to give me a ticket to fund the city’s budget.

“It’s just a routine checkup,” one police officer spoke dismissively, checking my data in their database. “All cops were asked to do routine checkups. Apparently, tonight some gang was doing drug drop-off, yet we stopped dozens of suspicious cars, and nothing came out of it. It must’ve been a false lead.”

What the fuck?

How, on Earth, did the police find out about this? Even I, who was a part of the drop-off, didn’t know what was inside the bags until two minutes ago. Was there a mole in the organization? Or maybe the police sent an undercover agent?

Thoughts were running through my head at a ridiculous speed, my gears were shifting swiftly as I tried to make any connection. Unfortunately, I didn’t connect shit. One thing was sure, though. If, by any chance, they let me go without investigating the car, Taeyong wouldn’t be thrilled to hear the news.

“Really? Drugs? And here I thought I live in the safe neighborhood,” I commented, feigning my cluelessness. Surprise, surprise, it actually sounded natural. Almost as if I was born to be a benighted dumb-dumb. “You better catch those smugglers.”

“We’re doing our best, miss,” the other policeman chimed in, and I tried my best not to roll my eyes at his for this evident negligence. They had culprits right under their nose, and it seemed they did not suspect me.

How could a dumb chick like me be involved in such a shady operation, am I right?

As much as I felt the urge to prove them wrong, I decided not to. As tempting as it was, it was extremely unbeneficial. I just wanted to get the hell out of the cruiser, drop the guys at Taeyong’s mansion, get my paycheck, and go home.

“Where were you going at such a late hour, miss?” The policeman asked, handing me back my documents after not finding anything worth further investigation.

“My friends were at the bachelor party in the club outside the capital, and they got really drunk, so I drove all the way there to pick them up,” I explained, though I got a feeling they weren’t listening to what I was saying.

“Uh-huh,” one of them muttered, quickly writing a messy note of the routine checkup, handing me back my documents. “That would be all, thank you for your cooperation,” the cop added, and I politely smiled, bolting out of the cruiser.

Phew!

Having fastened my seatbelts, I drove away. I just wanted to get the hell away from them, hoping they wouldn’t change their mind and order a thorough vehicle inspection. Taeyong and Ten must’ve had a dozen questions; however, I just turned up the volume of the radio, ignoring their concerned glances.

“Get out,” I barked when I abruptly stopped by the Midnight club. Perhaps it was rude, but I didn’t care. I’ve had a very stressful night, and politeness wasn’t on my mind.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow; good luck with miss grumpy,” Ten spoke before he jumped out of the vehicle, almost as if he was afraid I was going to talk back to him.

“What’s with the attitude?” Taeyong casually asked, and I sighed, trying to calm myself down. “I get you’re stressed, but you shouldn’t take your annoyance on us. Besides, if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. I’m your boss, and Ten is my close associate.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized before I revealed what exactly happened in the police car. Truth to be told, Taeyong didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today,” Taeyong whispered, looking at my profile. “Jungwoo from Busan division called me today. Some of Yuta’s men crossed the border. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate our little prank,” he explained, and I grew speechless.

Karma was getting back at me.

Why do actions have consequences?

“That’s not good,” I answered, unable to form a coherent response. I was royally screwed, yet at the time, I was overwhelmed by the revelation.

Why couldn’t I just wait for Taeyong to put an ad on Craigslist, for fuck’s sake?

“Hey, look at me,” Taeyong ordered, and I obediently tore my eyes off the road to gaze into his eyes. “Don’t think too much about it; it’ll be fine,” Taeyong promised, yet his words didn’t make me feel assured. “You’re one of us; we’ll protect you.”

“You better,” I added, clutching my palms around the steering wheel in yet another stress-fuelled episode. There better be a professional health care program for Taeyong’s employees. Otherwise, I may need a therapist. Stress factors don’t stop coming, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry on much longer.

“Do you want to hang out?” Taeyong inquired, taking me by surprise. He, the mafia boss, wanted to spend some time with such a peasant like myself. That concept was wild, and it actually made me wonder. I couldn’t really say no. Some people would die to get a chance to wander around his big-ass mansion with Taeyong himself. “We can order some take out and just chill. What do you think?”

“I’d love that.”

***

Since the police knew the registration number, Taeyong ordered me to park the vehicle in a large garage under his majestic mansion. Having turned off the engine, we got out of the car, and I handed him the keys, lifting some heft off my shoulders. It was a nice car, but the memories it held were terrible. I’d rather forget that I even drove that thing.

“Give me a sec,” Taeyong said, taking a handful of samples, stuffing his pocket with them.

“What are these exactly?” Having creased my forehead in contemplation, I asked.

“These? Oh, it’s a new type of drug. It’s called the punch,” Taeyong explained, showing me a single dose of the drag. It was nicely wrapped like candy, and inside it looked like a mint. “It’s like LSD had a baby with shrooms,” he commented casually, winking at me. “And it tastes like bubblegum; you want to try some? The first batch is in the house.”

“Maybe later,” I answered dismissively, not really keen on having my first trip with Taeyong. But on the other hand, who was a better candidate to do drugs with? “I’d rather have some take out first if that’s not a problem,” I added, hoping he wouldn’t press me into doing anything out of my comfort zone. Not that I expected Taeyong to force me to do things against my will. I didn’t. After all, he was a really considerate man.

“Sure, what cuisine are you craving? I’m thinking… maybe something spicy. How about Mexican?” Taeyong proposed, and I vigorously nodded. Either he was my soulmate or really was able to read minds. “I’ll order something delicious.”

This time around, his mansion felt odd.

It was still majestic and glamorous, yet at the same, it was quiet. Back then, it was packed with Taeyong’s minions, but right now, they were in hiding, giving Taeyong his much-needed privacy. Following behind him, roaming around the spacious corridors felt like being guided through a museum during a private tour.

Once settled in the day room, Taeyong walked up to the bar, brought two glasses and a bottle of tequila, and set them on the coffee table.

“You want some? You look like you need a glass or two,” Taeyong offered upon seeing me all tensed up and anxious on the leather couch, nervously scanning the room.

“I’d rather hear some good news, but the alcohol will do,” I answered, reaching for the glass, downing it in one go, only to regret it a second later. “Pour me another one.”

“Take it easy,” Taeyong suggested, yet obediently filled my glass before turning on music, letting me know what type of songs he was into. Apparently, for late night’s chilling EDM hits were his to-go playlist.

With some liquid courage, it was easier to relax at Taeyong’s place. I took off my shoes and stretched on the sofa comfortably, all unpleasant and stressful occurrences slowly fading away. Unfortunately, these feelings were about to come back in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, the food was delivered, and it was absolutely mouthwatering. Fresh corn tortillas, spicy ground beef with a ridiculous amount of cheese made a perfect combination, tasting orgasmic. If I had less self-control, I’d moan at the foodporn laid out on the table for us to devour.

“So… how did the meeting go? Was it a success, or did I fuck it up with my shenanigans at the bar?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes, carefully watching his reaction.

If I could make out an emotion that his eyes were conveying, it was amusement.

“We will see,” Taeyong whispered, reaching into his pocket, playing with a single sample in his hands. “I only distribute the goodies. I gotta check first if this innovation is worth my time,” he added before popping the substance into his mouth like candy. “Is ‘no’ your definite answer?” Taeyong questioned, looking like a cute innocent hamster with the pill dissolving against the inside of his left cheek.

After a few tequila shots and delicious Mexican take out, I was much braver. However, at the same time, I became a way less assertive version of myself. Consenting to his kind proposition was too easy. Besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen? His mansion’s probably the safest place in the country.

“Fine, gimme,” I gave up, reaching out for the pill.

At first, nothing happened. A few minutes later, still nothing, and I even began to think Taeyong gave me a sample from a faulty batch. It was until it hit me good.

The couch melted like milk chocolate swallowing me in its soft waves before I crashed through the floor of nonexistent colors splashes.

[emileeknow]

Infiltration - Part 2

Paring : Reader x Mafia!Doyoung

Genre: Angst + Fluff  |  Words : 5.2K

Warnings : Light stalking (sort of)

1  |  2

Doyoung’s POV

After leaving the club and returning to the van, I sat quietly in the back of the vehicle. Looking out the tinted black windows I kept my eye on the street. 

Yuta would think I was watching the apartment or the surrounding vehicles, but I actually had my eyes focused elsewhere. 

My mind was eased as I saw a figure shuffling quickly out of the back entrance to the club. Clutching her bag tightly with one hand, her phone with the other and walking as fast as she could. It was evident the darkness was intimidating to her. 

I wanted to walk her home but it would prompt too many questions from the others. They didn’t need to know about her.

-

“Can’t believe we had to leave just as the show was getting good” Jaehyun pouts. 

“You have a job to do. I let you go for a couple of hours so shut up or I’ll tell Taeyong about your little excursion” Yuta states coldly. 

Yuta was not one to mess with. He was reliable and focused on work. Doyoung liked working with him. The same could not be said for the other two currently in the van. 

They continued to watch the apartment for any movement. Rumor was that the girlfriend of the leader of GOT7 lived there. Taeyong had ordered a stakeout to see if JB ended up there. 

Why that required 4 of them sitting in a much too small van all night, he did not know. 

The van wasn’t exactly inconspicuous either. Although it advertised a local plumber, JB would probably notice it was there if he did come to the apartment. If he approached it, they would have issues. That was probably why Jaehyun and Johnny were here.

What Doyoung didn’t understand was why he had to be there. He tended to keep his targets at a longer distance. He was an experienced sniper after all. He was smart and was often involved in operation planning. He was good at manipulating people into doing what he wanted. Hence Taeyong was sure to keep him close. 

While Doyoung was initially annoyed he had to go on this mission, which to him seemed more like babysitting his colleagues than an actual mission, he was actually glad he came. 

He got to meet you. He was looking forward to hearing from you tomorrow. He wanted to see you again and he hoped you felt the same. Doyoung found this weird as he had never had these thoughts about anyone before.

“What are you thinking about?” Johnny interrupts his thoughts. 

“Nothing”

“Doesn’t look like nothing, you were smiling” he teases.

“I think a girl at the club caught his eye” Jaehyun smiles knowingly.

“What?!” “Doyoung? A girl? Don’t be ridiculous” Johnny chuckles.

His face remains stoic, not wanting them to know about her. He didn’t want to drag you into his work life. It was far too dangerous, and you had already been through enough with that club owner.

He hoped that Jaehyun was just saying that and that he didn’t actually see you talking to him. It's not that he didn’t trust Jaehyun, he would trust him with his life. It’s just he didn’t want them to know about you. Much like he didn’t want you to know about them.

-

They sat and watched the apartment for the rest of the night. JB did not show up.

Doyoung finally crawled into bed back at the base as the sun was starting to rise. The mission had been pointless and he was beyond tired. He locked the door to stop any of his members disturbing his much needed sleep.

Y/N’s POV

I woke up the next day after a pleasant night’s sleep. I had important planning to do and didn’t want to waste a second. I would have to call Doyoung at some point today, act like I was really grateful for what he did and bring up the topic of paying him back.

I needed to fully sell this innocent girl act which meant committing to it full time. Thankfully the apartment I lived in was in no way extravagant. I usually stayed at the club or at Seungcheol’s since neither of us liked being alone.

My apartment was already fitting with the poor girl who owes money to a bad man character. I only kept the place as it could be used as a safehouse if needed, but now it seems like it will see some actual use after all. Doyoung would have no doubt started a background check on me. The story I gave would have enough similarities with what would come from searching my history, so I wasn't worried about him finding out who I really was.

The only reason I gave him my real name was that nobody who had bad intentions towards NCT would be stupid enough to give their real name. So when Doyoung does his research he would see that my name matches my face, and my father was a piece of shit who had many debts and about 3 wives in different countries. Doyoung would assume I don’t know about my father, and that he abandoned me with his debts to run off with whichever woman he was with at the moment. 

His curiosity would be satisfied, I wouldn’t be a threat and he wouldn’t dig any deeper into who I actually am.

Hopefully the information he uncovers about my father will help add to his sense of protectiveness towards me. If so it seems my father would actually be of some use in my life after all.

Doyoung’s POV

He awoke to an obnoxious ringing noise. Reluctantly he reached for his phone, letting out a long groan of annoyance. 

He didn’t even look at the screen, knowing it would most likely be Haechan. Everyone else had the common sense not to wake him early after being on a mission all night. 

“What do you want?” He groans into the phone, the irritation heavy in his voice.

“S-Sorry, I think I have the wrong number” a voice that was definitely not Haechan stuttered nervously into line. 

“Wai-” the line cut off before he could say anything. 

Doyoung curses himself, running his hands over his face in an attempt to wake himself up. 

He calls the number back, praying you pick up. 

The phone rings for longer than he would expect.

“Hello. I’m really sorry. I was trying to call someone and I must have put the number in wrong. Please don’t be annoyed” you rambled quickly. 

“Y/N. It’s Doyoung,” he said as softly as he could manage first thing in the morning.

In reality it was probably about 3pm but as far as Doyoung was concerned it was still too early. 

“Oh-” you pause “Am I bothering you? Is this a bad time? I’m sorry”

“Please stop apologizing. I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m sorry...I thought it was one of my friends calling. I have been working all night so he knows better than to wake me”

“I woke you up. I’m So-”

“Don’t you dare say it” he cut you off. His voice was light. He wanted to ease the atmosphere and make you feel comfortable. That, and get you to stop apologizing.

“S-” you caught yourself chuckling lightly into the phone. 

His heart warmed at the sound of you giggling quietly to yourself. It was a pleasant sound, light and breathy. He found it cute.

“Did you get home okay last night? I wanted to escort you, but had to go to work unexpectedly” 

“Oh it’s okay. I got home fine. I’m used to walking home alone.”   

“You don’t have a boyfriend or anyone to accompany you?”

“I don’t” He hears you laugh “and I don’t want to burden my friends late at night”

“Well you won’t have to worry now seeing as you won’t be going to the club again”

“Of course not. You said never to go there again and since you own me now. I will do as you say. You seem much nicer than Mr Choi.”

“Don’t even mention that scumbag’s name in front of me” he can’t help the growl that appears in this throat. 

“Okay. Sorry”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean I own you?” Doyoung wasn’t sure if he was still delusional from sleep or if that had been what you genuinely said. 

“Well I owed money to Mr Choi. but now you paid him so I owe money to you.You told me to go home and to call you today. I assumed you had bought me from Mr Choi, which I am thankful for by the way,  but I’m not sure what you would want me for. I’m only really good at cleaning” you explain. 

“Y/N. You are free. I don’t own you. I paid that money to Mr Choi so that you didn’t have to work there anymore.”

“But why would you do that for me?”

“Because. As I said yesterday, you deserve better than that place”

“But I still owe you $20,00. I don’t have a job now. I can’t pay you back” the panic was starting to creep through into your voice again. 

“You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want money. I just want you to be happy”

Silence followed from your end of the line.  

Y/N’s POV

Dramatic pause. 

You remain silent. Pretending to contemplate his words. Trying to create the impression that you were trying to put what he said together and that it won’t add up.

“Y/N?” Nothing 

“Y/N? Are you still there”

“Sorry. I just don’t get why you would do that for me. Thank you though. I really can’t thank you enough for getting me out of there. I will pay you back somehow. Once I get a new job-” You begin to ramble on before he cuts you off

“Y/N I said I don’t want your money”

“But I can’t let you just spend that on me without paying you back. It just doesn't feel right” you persist. 

“Well maybe you can pay me back in another way” 

You stayed silent for a minute. You were not expecting that. You could tell from the tone of his voice he didn’t mean it in a sexual way, but you left a long enough silence for him to think that you had perceived it that way.

He had dug the hole and you were all too happy to push him into it. 

“I-I’m probably not very good at … that”

“Oh no”  he panics. 

You had to keep the smile off of your face. Knowing it would show in your voice the next time you spoke.

“That is not what I meant. I don’t want ...that” he clarifies

You breathe a sigh of relief. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough for it to seem unintentional.  

“How about when I need some help, I’ll call you and if you’re not busy then you can come and help me.” 

“Like help you run errands? Or clean your house or something? That I could do” you reply hopefully.

“Yeah exactly like that” you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Okay. I’ll help you” you smile.

“Thank you. I must go now, but I will call you when I need some help”

“Okay. Thank you again Doyoung. For everything”

“That’s quite alright. Bye.”

“Bye”

There is silence for a moment as he waits for you to hang up. Which you do. You needed to not seem too interested in him.

You lie back down on your bed. Satisfied with how that conversation went. Once you got to know him a little better you could let down your timid act around him. You were looking forward to when that time came. Sure naturally you weren't exactly a massive people person, but this little mouse you were playing was just a bit too exhausting to have to keep up the whole time. 

You supposed if you ever had to deal with others around Doyoung. You could go super shy and just not say anything. That would add to the act but also make Doyoung feel that you were only comfortable with him. Which would play into your plan nicely.  

-

You started to map out the next phase of your plan. You needed to get a job. You needed to seem like you were still determined to pay him back even though he said he didn’t want your money. That, and you needed it to look like you were determined not to depend on him. 

Since you had an apartment to “pay for” you needed it to look like you had a legitimate job to explain your income. You also needed it to be convenient enough to still be able to meet Doyoung whenever he was available. 

You knew his schedule would be all over the place. There was no 9-5 in the business the two of you shared. Shift work would probably be the best option. You wouldn’t be heavily tied to the place, but it would be a reasonable job for you with the skills he thinks you have.

The place needed to be somewhere he could come and visit you and you could always set up some interactions. Although a cafe seemed like a good idea. A Convenience store might be slightly better in the long run. 

You knew he would not expose his gang life to you anytime soon, if at all. Once you are in deep enough with him, you could always stage an attack or something while you are working late at night that somehow leads to you ‘finding out’ who he really is, and force him to explain himself.

The timing on that would have to be perfect. You wouldn’t get a second shot, but that was a long way off yet. First you had to focus on cute interactions and timid smiles.

Doyoung’s POV

“Who were you talking to?” Chenle casually enters Doyoung’s room.

“No one. How did you get in here”

“You said I should practice my lock picking” Chenle shrugged. 

“Obviously, not on my door” Doyoung groaned. 

Luckily for Chenle, his phone call with you had knocked most of the drowsiness out of him, otherwise the younger member would have faced the forefront of Doyoung’s morning moodiness. 

“Well there weren’t any other locked doors” Chenle answered as if Doyoung was the one in the wrong for him breaking into his room.

“Anyway, it didn’t sound like no one, your voice was all soft”  Chenle giggled.

“It was no one you should concern yourself with” he stated seriously.

“You know I’ll find out who it is eventually, I have been practicing eavesdropping too” Chenle smiles innocently before skipping out of the room.

Doyoung groaned, knowing he would have to come up with some sort of explanation so that Chenle didn’t start talking about the mysterious person he was on the phone with to any of the other members. 

Chenle was often too nosy for his own good. He was also not intimidated by Doyoung, which made it harder for Doyoung to get what he wanted from the younger member most of the time. 

Y/N’s POV 

It had been around a week since you last spoke to Doyoung. You knew he had been keeping tabs on you, so you made sure to keep up your act whenever your curtains were open. You were sure you probably had someone monitoring you by now. You weren’t sure how close your monitor was or if they had visuals through the windows of your apartment. It was probably unlikely at this stage, but you couldn’t risk it.  

You knew for sure someone was following you when you left the house. You weren’t sure who was following you, if it was Doyoung himself or if he had got someone else, but you knew someone had been tailing you every time you left the apartment since that night.

You pretended like you didn’t notice, but in all honesty it was so obvious to you that it was painful. 

When you used to help train the newer members of the SVT, you had gone through tailing targets with Seungkwan. He was never very good at it but he was definitely better than this guy. In fact this guy made Seungkwan look invisible, which you didn’t think were possible. 

If anything they were getting more obvious the longer they followed you, it was like they were getting consistently worse.

You hadn’t called Doyoung again. Figuring that he would have to initiate the next call. He said he would phone you if he needed something. You had no reason to phone him and did not want to seem too keen on him. Yet.

-

You were about to leave the convenience store. You had successfully managed to get a job there. It was relatively easy since you said you were available immediately and you could work pretty much any shift.  It was local but not local enough that you could walk home ‘comfortably’ on your own. It seemed like a nice enough place to work. The area was nice, but not too nice that some conveniently timed trouble would seem out of place. It was perfect. 

It was around 7pm when you left the store after the manager had gone through your new duties with you. You were due to start tomorrow afternoon.

As you left the store, you noticed the guy was still loitering nearby. He was over on the other side of the road, sitting on a bench reading a book. From his figure you could tell he definitely wasn’t Doyoung. 

As you walk across the street and past him, you heard him get up and start to follow behind you. It was like stealth was not in this guys dictionary. 

No one trained in a gang could be this bad, surely. 

The situation didn’t sit right with you. It was almost as if he wanted you to catch him. 

You needed to test this theory. 

You stopped and nervously tilted your head over your shoulder. He didn’t even try to hide or blend in. He was standing around 10 meters behind you. His face was obscured by a mask and his hood was up. He even looked obvious. Obvious enough that a defenseless woman would notice and feel uneasy. 

You thought Doyoung might have set this up to get you to call him.

On the other hand, even if it wasn’t a setup and the person he had assigned to keep an eye on you was just genuinely this bad, it wouldn’t do any harm if you phoned him because you were scared that someone was following you when it was getting dark. You were defenseless after all.

You pick up your pace down the street. Looking around frantically for somewhere you could safely stop and make a phone call. 

You spot a cafe. Perfect.

You walk at a brisk pace. The guy was still following you loudly, catching up but not enough to suggest he had any intention of actually catching you. You push through the door to the cafe. 

You take out your phone with shaking hands, walking over to the back of the shop where the counter was. You sat down in one of the armchairs. Pointed towards the storefront window, which you looked towards nervously, scanning your surroundings.

You call Doyoung’s number. 

He answered after one ring. Which was enough confirmation for you that he was indeed expecting this call. 

“Hello” he answers. His tone was serious but not intimidating in the way it was when he last answered the phone. 

“Doyoung. I think- I think there is someone following me”  you let your voice tremble as you continue to focus your gaze out the window.  

You didn’t know quite how closely he was observing you from. You couldn’t see the guy that had been following you, but he was still outside somewhere. 

“Where are you?”

“The cafe by the crossing at the edge of the park where the kids playground is” you ramble quickly.

“The one next to the karaoke place?”

“Uh- I think so. I’m not sure. They have blue canopies out the front”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay there. Don’t go outside”

“Okay. Please hurry. I don’t know where the guy went, or if he’s inside. Oh god, what if he’s here somewhere” you start to breathe heavily. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m on my way. I will be there as quick as I can” he tries to reassure you. 

“Okay. Thank you Doyoung”

You hear him start to run before he hangs up the phone.  

You keep your phone in your hands. 

You figured Doyoung was probably close enough that he would be here soon to comfort you, but not close enough that he would be here soon enough to suggest he knew you would be in this general area at this time.

-

You were right. 15 mins passed and Doyoung walked through the door. His eyes were scanning the cafe before they landed on you sitting in the armchair in the corner. You wave at him to catch his attention even though you knew you already had it.

He walked over quickly. 

“Are you okay?” he asks looking you up and down. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I'm sorry. I haven't seen him since I called you. I was probably overreacting. I’m sorry to have bothered you” you rattle off quickly.

“No it's okay, I’m glad you called. Don’t ever think you are bothering me okay.” he takes your shaking hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly. 

You look up at him. You let the nervousness go from your face, looking into his eyes as sincerely as you could. 

You had to admit, now you were looking at him like this. He was quite beautiful, there was no denying it. You could see why he caught a lot of female attention. The suit he was wearing fit him nicely. It was probably custom made. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a way that made you want to push it away from his face. His eyes were dark and full of emotions.  You didn’t allow yourself to check him out for long even though part of you wanted to do just that.

“Do you want me to take you home now, or do you want to stay here for a little while?”

“Um, can we just go home. I don’t like that he might still be nearby” you respond anxiously.

“Okay, lets go” he smiles softly. 

He walks towards the door, pulling it open and holding it as you step through. You look around nervously. 

“Do you see him anywhere?” He looks around with you, trying to spot someone out of place. 

“No” you look around frantically. “I could have sworn someone was following me”

“He must have left when he saw you enter the cafe, even if he is hiding somewhere he will see you leaving with me and get lost” he replies confidently.

“Which way?” he asks waiting for you to lead him towards your home. Eventhough you suspected he already knew where you lived.

You point down the street in the general direction of your apartment.

He nods and starts to walk in that direction. Slowing his pace to keep up with your purposefully small strides.

“I’m really sorry to burden you like this. You just met me and I’m causing you all this trouble”

“It’s no trouble. I was dying to leave work anyway”

“Well thank you then. Speaking of work, I got a job” you beam at him

“That’s great, where?” 

“The convenience store that is around the corner from here. It’s not much but I should be able to afford to keep my apartment now”

“Well If you ever struggle for rent let me know”

You chuckle. “I already owe you enough, I don’t want to become any more of a financial burden for you, so please stop trying to throw money at me” you say it lightheartedly as if it were a joke, but you were hoping he would pick up on the sincerity of your request. 

It occurred to you that it might also be a test to see if you were in fact after his money. You were sure he was no stranger to women who wanted his money.  You needed to seem like you were different. 

Denying his money was partly for the act but also for your own pride. Naturally you hate owing people things. In the long run it would be easier to keep up the act if you incorporated elements of your actual personality. 

You were no actor. You had never had to maintain character for the length of time this mission would require. As you get to know Doyoung and he sees you become more comfortable around him you would begin to act more like yourself. Or at least a toned down version.  

Obviously you still wouldn’t be being honest, there were so many things you would have to keep hidden. However if you tried to react as naturally as possible it would reduce the likelihood of out of character interactions, which would become more dangerous as the mission progresses.

Currently he thought you were this shy little deer, that opinion you would have to gradually change. The panicked phone call and the way you were naturally conversing with him now would definitely help in the long run. 

In some ways you could thank him, setting up this whole situation is just making his downfall all the easier for you and he doesn’t even know it.

“It’s not like I can’t afford it” his laugh brings you back to the conversation at hand.

“That’s not the point” you state.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes a little”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I will try to stop doing that”.

You smile appreciatively at him, “Thank you”

-

The two of you walk in a comfortable silence back to your apartment. He climbs the stairs after you, walking you right to your door. You unlock the door after some struggle and a bit of a push, Doyoung’s grimace at your actions not going unnoticed by you. Once the door was finally open you turned back to face him.

“Thank you again for walking me home, I really appreciate it” you thank him again. 

“It’s no problem. If ever you feel unsafe, call me and I’ll come get you. Or I’ll send someone to help you” 

“You don’t have to do that. You are already doing so much for me” 

“I do. I must protect my little helper. How else will I get what I’m owed” he jokes

You silently chuckle at his response. 

“Okay.”

You didn’t know if he was expecting you to invite him in but you decided against it. The slower this went the better. Too fast and he may become suspecting. That and you had to do one final sweep of the place to make sure you had nothing that would make him suspicious of your true identity. 

You were pretty sure you had got it all but you knew Doyoung was an observant man, ‘pretty sure’ was not going to cut it with him. 

“Well goodnight” you go to walk into your apartment.

“Wait” his voice stops you.

You turn back to him.

“I have a task for you tomorrow” 

You force a look of interest onto your face. Your face lights up at the thought of helping him. 

“What is it?”

“I need you to come to a restaurant with me tomorrow evening”

“Do you own a restaurant or something?”

“Yes something like that” he smiles.

“Okay, my shift finishes at 5 tomorrow afternoon so text me the time and the place and I will be there.” you smile at him

He returns your smile.

He bids you goodnight as you enter your apartment and shut the door behind you. As you take off your shoes and hang up your coat, you hear him loiter by the door for a few seconds before disappearing. 

Doyoung’s POV

Once he was around the corner from your apartment he took out his phone and dialed Chenle’s number.

“Well done Chenle”

“Thanks, but why did I have to follow her like some crazy stalker, has she done something to the gang”

“I can’t tell you”

“Are we going to take her out?” Chenle asked a little too hopefully for his liking.

“No definitely not.”

“Hang on...Is this who you were on the phone with last week?” he asks excitedly. 

He pauses for a second. “...No”

Chenle’s laughter filled the line. “The pause told me everything. Wait till I tell Jisung you’re following a girl around” he teases.

“You will do nothing of the sort” Doyoung commands sternly. “I asked you to do this because I don’t want the gang involved”

“But I am part of the gang” 

“You are still a trainee”

“The dreamies are still part of the gang. By your logic that means Jisung isn’t part of the gang which means I can tell him.” Doyoung could hear the snarky smile on Chenle’s face. 

Deep down Doyoung cared about “the dreamies”. While he didn’t know why they chose a name that sounded so fluffy in comparison to the line of business they were in, it didn’t change the fact he still thought of them as his little brothers. However, they all still had a lot to learn before they would be trusted with the kind of jobs Doyoung and the other senior members handled. 

“Chenle..” he warns

“I know, I know. It was just a joke, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good, I may need your help again later”

“Okay. I have to go now, thanks to your little side mission I’m late to target practice. Taeil will kill me”

Doyoung rolls his eyes as Chenle hangs up the phone. 

-

I can’t help but smile as I walk back towards the convenience store to retrieve my car knowing she would be having dinner with me tomorrow evening. 

She may not know that yet, but I hope it will be a nice surprise for her.

Part of me felt bad for having Chenle follow her. It was concerning how obvious he had to be for her to realize something was wrong. If it had been someone with genuinely bad intentions I fear she would have become another statistic we would hear on the news in the morning. If anything it fueled my need to protect her.

I don’t know what it is about her that intrigues me so much. At first I thought it was just because she looked too innocent and I felt bad that life had dealt her a shit hand.

She hardly knows me but I was the first person she called for help and then even apologised for it. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She is a breath of fresh air  from the polluted industry I have found myself in.

The reasonable part of me wants to push her as far away as possible from my lifestyle, but the selfish part wants to pull her close to me and never let go. 

I am usually a reasonable man, but now I’m not so sure. 

[moonswithorwithoutstars]

Baby gay’s prince

Lucas’pov:

Ralph was really down this time. It wasn’t just some hot boy that let him down after a good fuck, this time it wasn’t even the old story of falling in love (understand meet him 2 hours before and stalk him non – stop since that) with a straight dude that he just couldn’t make gay. No, this was Elijah. The cute, dorky, peaceful boy who had matching onesies with Ralph and was considered a part of the family by everyone in the flat, even by Liv and Noah who recognized themselves as the mum and dad now, because apparently that was also a stage in relationship, right between running after one another while wearing wedding dress and adopting 25 dogs.

Little did we all know what a sly bitch Elijah was. Or not really, we actually don’t know what happened which makes it even more obvious that Ralph was in pain, because normally, this time after breakup, he would be already browsing grindr and shading the ex-boy with Liv. This time was different. Surely, the grindr phase came but only 3 weeks after and Ralph was going through it alone. Not only that but he was also going through it without any sign of stopping – he went out, got drunk, fucked someone, that someone called one of us to come pick him up and then he broke down on the way home. He slept until lunch hours and started getting ready for going out again. For now we just did what we could, we made him coffee and I was saved as his emergency contact because Jayden said that gays should hold together the strongest, obviously believing that his formidable sense of humour would just make situation easier.

3rd person pov:

That’s why the closeted baby gay was taking metro to some dude’s house where Ralph crashed tonight. This concrete guy sounded rather worried about Ralph’s well-being which made Lucas breathe out with ease until he heard some crying in the background. The caller’s only reaction was telling him to hurry and hunging up.

Lucas was out of the apartment in the instant because as he rediscovered tonight, fear is the best motor. And as he was ringing the bell to what seemed as another shared apartment or dormitory possibly, he was already contemplating all the scenarios of what could have happened to Ralph, and the fact that whoever called him took his time opening the door made him even more worried. The door finally revealed a boy with dark hair who wasn’t covered in blood, didn’t look violently and wasn’t holding a knife, that didn’t mean that Lucas trusted him.

“Hey, you the emergency contact?” Dark boy asked with Belgian accent and a bit of discomfort in his voice.

“What? Yeah, yeah, is Ralph okay? I heard him crying, I thought that you were someone violent. Where is he? Did he hurt himself or broke something?” other boy half confirmed and half investigated the Belgian.

“No, well not really, I mean he didn’t seem physically hurt. I put them to sleep kinda?” Lucas let out the breath he was holding, relaxed a bit only until realization hit him hard. Did he really said them? Who did he put to sleep with Ralph? Was it possibly Elijah? Was he someone who put drugs into other people’s drinks and then put them to sleep?

Dark, tall and mysterious must have noticed this because he made a quick work of getting Luc relaxed again. “Hey don’t worry. You better see it yourself but well your drunk broken hearted friend met mine best friend who was in the very same condition, they cried together, showed each other photos of their love interests and then fell asleep hugging each other.” Small chuckle escaped his lips as he was elaborating this heart-warming story and Lucas couldn’t help but smile a little as well, maybe this is what Ralph needed after all. Besides this, Begium here had cute little smile.

The fact that he needed those dumb nicknames reminded him that he still needed to know this guy’s name. Without much thought, probably because he was really tired after all the stuff with Ralph, Luc bluntly asked: “So, guy who put up random boys, could you put one more, at least until Ralph gets up and needs familiar shoulder to cry on?”

Said guy emitted that sweet chuckle again. “It’s Jens and I’m not technically putting them up since it’s not my flat. More suitable title is babysitting. Hopefully those two will remember each other, because I ship that bromance.”

Luc just smiled and nodded his head. “I’m Lucas and I personally believe that a gay man that Ralph wouldn’t fuck but only be friend with wouldn’t be nothing else than healthy.”

This made Jens do a face as if calculating which quickly turned into a smirk. “Is it so? I believe that you’re also a gay boy he knows, at least according to your contact name Mr. Baby Gay. Yet I believe that ex-lover wouldn’t show up at weird night hours in strange places just to make sure that the other one is alive.”

Suddenly Lucas felt rather vulnerable. He was in a house he has never been before and a person he never met before read and knew him better than most of his friends these months. The fact that it wasn’t meant as an insult or an act of mockery going completely unnoticed, as the same probably unreasonable fear occurred again. The other one couldn’t be homophobe could he? He said that he had a gay friend, and he saw two guys cuddling. Luc somehow lost the track of his thoughts and was only put back into reality when Jens softly spoke: “Hey, I don’t know shit. It might be only an inside joke between the two of you, you might not be gay. Even if you were I wouldn’t care, do you think I would? I’ve got gay friends, I was nice to your friend and I’m bisexual myself so chill.”

Luc sighed with relief and gratitude: “I didn’t mean to be judgmental, I just dunno, I’m not chill with the whole me being the baby gay,” he made a sign with his fingers and rolled his eyes slightly amused, “yet. And not many people, well no one aside from Ralph and now you really knows.”

He was met only with a nod as if sign of understanding and cheeky: “S okay, your secret is safe with me. Wanna come in now, or should I prove that I’m trustworthy any other way?”

“No, no! Well yes I’d like to come in, if that’s okay with you again, but you’re trustworthy enough”

“Let me lead the way then. Kitchen it is? Do you want any beer or soda or ehh practically I can can’t offer you anything else because there’s actually nothing else in this flat.”

Lucas slightly at loss of words as every time he entered a building he has never been before needed some time to become eloquent. His eyes lingered on all the spots in the messy functional kitchen until he spotted his companion.

“Oh, I’d fancy a beer if it doesn’t cause you any trouble. I wouldn’t want to be charged for steeling beer cans from random flats, regarding you mentioning that this was not where you lived.” The statement was only meant as a joke but the tone seemed to change it into yet another accusation.

“Come on, you’ve never stolen beers? What a loser.”

“M not a loser, I just happen to always have people to do the dirty work for me.” Lucas snarky commented and performed a grimace, someone like a mafia boss would use in his opinion.

“Whatever you say boss.” Jens responded with a small bow added. He picked up two cans of beer and set them on the table while simultaneously inviting Lucas to sit down. The chairs in in the kitchen were mismatched, just underlining the overall messy look it was serving. Luc would bet anything that two or more boys shared this condo as a cheap alternative for living. Jens wasn’t one of them so probably the only guy he hasn’t met was the owner? Did he live here with his boyfriend before something similar to Ralph’s story happened to him? Maybe he lives here alone and just likes to be messy and has no problem letting whoever spend the night here. While examining the dark room, his eyes wondered to other parts of the flat as well. He could see armchair or a small sofa possibly in the room without door, on the other side, next to the kitchen, there was another room illuminated by soft light of a bedside lamp. That was probably bedroom which meant that Ralph was located there, sleeping peacefully. As he started returning his attention to the bear in front of him, Belgian guy caught his eyes and smilingly stated; “They’re in there. They were just like little kids, like my little brother I swear. They needed something to hug and wouldn’t let me turn off the lights because of monsters under the bed or something. I’m surprised they didn’t make me read a bedtime story to them. Especially Robbe, he always tends to do that. He can be really persuasive too. He chooses the most sappy tales and makes me change it so that the beautiful princess is actually another prince, they of course must live happily ever after.” There was a quick pause where Jens just stared lovingly somewhere ahead of him, remembering all the little memories of drunk Robbe that made his heart warm. Lucas knew this small gestures very well on his own. The longing in Jens’ gaze was probably more evident than the one in his eyes. Jens had one big advance however, his best friend was at least oriented the right way. Not exactly the right way, there’s no right or wrong way but for this situation, Robbe was definitely oriented the more suitable way. He wished him luck, he really did. Something about Jayden’s words must have been true right? The gay guys had to stick together, more so the gay guys with an overwhelming crush on their best friend. It was only fair to offer Jens at least a sympathetic smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. Upon that skin contact, Jens snapped back and continue as if there was no interruption at all, “Do you maybe want to check them yourself? Just so that you’ll feel more at ease.” He asked Luc, already standing as if he knew the answer far before he even asked. Luc followed him to the alighted room and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. There he was really – Ralph in all his bleached beauty hugging small brown haired boy as if he was a plush toy. A radiating smile creeped his way on Luc’s face and as he turned to watch Jens’ reaction for a bit, he saw the very same expression. He quickly caught a bit of jealousy trying to find her way. If his Kes would prioritize some random dude over Luc in cuddling, he’d be bitter at least for a day or so, Jens didn’t act that way at all. It’s probably because Luc has been going through this for a long time, through this roller coaster or whatever. He didn’t know what he felt anymore and the smallest turbulences caused him to burst. He didn’t want to think of Kes for tonight tho. He saw that the dark boy had new girl with him today in the skatepark, he even introduced the two of them and Luc was still a bit pissed because of that, more than a bit probably. He had to concentrate on the good things, the small battles won were all that mattered right now. He turned to head back to the kitchen, Jens following him shortly.

There’s been an intimidating silence ever since they visited the bedroom. Luc was never one to evaluate situation correctly so after he felt awkward for long enough, and beer in his can had gone, he asked out of the blue: “Will you try to woo him? Not tomorrow I mean, but he’s gay and he’s also single right now and you’re the person he probably trust the most. I ship this bromance with slipping b.”

Jens just looked at him with an expressionless face. Then there were too many expressions at once but still no words and then, finally Jens started to talk. He told him everything: Told him about Britt, which she thought he loved but didn’t even know what love felt like at that time. Told him about the brown haired angel as he called Robbe. About his ex boy Snader who made him come out and sprayed a portrait of his face, but also the same boy that was playing with Robbe’s and Britt’s heart at the same time. He described how he found Robbe on the rail of a bridge, ready to end it all. He described how his heart hurt at the memory, how he’s been more broken by this than ever before. He then continued, less passionately and not with the same spark. He spoke about Jana, the other person he loved. He spoke about how he could never love Robbe the way he loved Jana and the other way around. He spoke of his fear of being someone like Sander, selfish enough to try and keep the both, only ending up hurting those precious creatures. Luc wasn’t sure if it was his place to give advices, no even if it was appropriate, nevertheless he murmured: “You have to wait, give yourself time and be able to love only one but with your whole heart.”

After that Jens cried a little and then he was mad at himself. He listed all the ways those two were perfect and Luc couldn’t help but add his little own list he made for Kes to this night of sorrows. That’s how Luc started to speak as well. He talked about how he destroyed Kes and Isa, how he despised her but she was kind enough to forgive him, how Kes was oblivious enough not to notice, how Jayden was homophobic enough to make coming out for Lucas a rather painful possibility. There wasn’t much he could tell but Jens seemed to understand, not only that but this time, it was the dark boy that squeezed Lucas shoulder, as if expressing unity. The morningish the hour was, the less they spoke and the more they cried in a hug very similar to that one of Ralph and Robbe. Then they probably fell asleep.

For the first time in weeks, Luc woke up to Ralph’s smiling face. He got up from the floor where he had apparently spent the night and hug the fuck out of his best friend in a way. He could see that something very similar yet s different was happening on the other side of the room, between two Belgian boys and he smiled softly. There was something like a deep bond between him and Jens, sure they were not the same and Luc prouded himself in not believing in any bonds, astrology, zodiacs and shit, there must have been something. He’ll probably never meet those two again, but he’ll remember them clearly, and how their own story might have helped his. After this affectionate morning, they said theirs goodbyes. Ralph insisted on staying in contact with Robbe so they could brag about boys every now and then, but that was it. They left, with so much less emotional baggage than they brought and with a good feeling. Sometimes alcohol can solve problems after all, Luc thought.

Epilogue:

It was something about half a year after the whole Ralph crash. Things were pretty easy again. Ralph didn’t find another Elijah but keep telling all the people that for the sex function of boyfriend, he has girndr and for the romantic function, he has Luc. Luc didn’t mind this much, he came into a peace with himself, or so he thought. He still hadn’t tell anyone but he made a huge progress. He even went out with a few guys and overally he was just fine. Occasional pangs of jealousy would form in his heart, wherever he saw Kes’ new discovery in the form of girlfriend, but thanks to Kes’ somehow reasonable taste in woman, he always found himself glad,that Kes was with someone like that in the end of the day. He was currently seated in a skatepark, side by side with Kes, waiting for that dickhead- and their hamburgers. Kes was in the middle of explaining something about the new trick he learned and Luc was in the middle of ignoring the matter of conversation and tapping his foot impatiently because he was hungry when his phone rang. He was 99,2% sure that it was just Ralph who forgot her keys, but the caller ID proved him wrong. It was a number he has probably never seen before, most likely some phone survey or something but he was polite enough to at least pick it up.

Immediately the other side spoke in a Belgian accent: “Hey, is this Luc, the baby gay?”small chuckle could be heard and Luc couldn’t helped but to glance towards Kes because he remembered that night just clearly. Then he amusedly responded: “Yeah, and you’re the guy that reads bedtime stories to his 17 years old best mate.”

Something like a short laugh echoed through the device but then stopped as a warm voice announced: “Yeah, about that, not anymore, and I don’t go back and forth with Jana anymore as well.”

“Well, that’s just marvellous,” Lucas breathed out, “I made some progress myself.”

“Yeah,” Jens paused. “I think I’m ready to love only one but with my whole heart,” he admitted softly.

“And which one of them is the lucky one may I ask?”

“I believe it might be you baby gay.”

[seriouslyhooked]

The Same Soul (Part 1/?)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M. 

A/N: Hey all! So it’s been a pretty long time since I dropped a new multi-chapter story, and for good reason. I am still very much working on finishing ‘Lost Souls’ and I have about a million mixtape prompts to respond to sometime this summer and into the fall. But when inspiration strikes, you have to run with it, and while listening to a song I’ve loved a long time, ‘Same Soul’ by PVRIS, I thought of this AU. It’s set in our world where Emma is a bail bonds person living a lonely life in Boston. She and Killian met years ago, there were definite fireworks, but fate kept them apart. Now, years later, fate steps in again reuniting them. For the rest, you’ll have to read and see. Anyway thanks so much for taking the time and hope you all enjoy!

“Listen Lady, I told you before, you got the wrong guy! That shit that happened, whatever it is the cops are spinning, it wasn’t me. You hear me? Hey! I’m talking to you.”

Yeah, unfortunately for me.

Emma did her best to try and drown out the noise currently emanating from the back of her car. It was hard work seeing as how the perp she’d picked up for jumping bail this time was one of the biggest whiners she had ever had the displeasure of bringing in. But at the end of the day this was manageable. In just a few more minutes they’d get to the courthouse and she would pick up a big fat check for all the trouble of interacting with this asshole. He was a big fish in a big city, and according to court records the state had him on the line for not one, not two, but twenty-five stolen luxury vehicles. And how had he done that? Simple – by preying on unsuspecting marks who thought he was the valet, or an assistant, or just a garden variety good Samaritan. Emma surprised a snort at even the thought of the last one. This guy was so obviously rotten to the core that she could smell his shit from a mile away, and despite his repeated denials, August Booth had been a very busy guy this summer.

“Okay I get it, you’re doing this for the money. Hell I respect that. You’re a regular entrepreneur. So what would it take? 10 grand? 20? I can get you that. All you gotta do is let me go.”

Now Emma really had to laugh. This idiot really thought so little of her. Didn’t he realize she’d been tracking him for a full week, and that in order to do that she’d had to do a deep dive not just into his personal life and habits, but also every last trace of his financial capabilities? He had no way in hell of making good on this offer, and yet he continued to lie and beg like it would somehow sway her.

“Seriously, I know people, and I’m good for the money. No one even has to know that you helped me out. Just pull over, undo these cuffs and I’ll get you the dough.”

“The dough?” Emma asked, incredulous and yet somewhat amused by how dissociated this guy seemed to be. “Who even says that? This isn’t a mafia movie from the 70s. You conned a bunch of people, stole a bunch of shit, and then skipped bail. I don’t care about the money that I know you don’t have, or the guys you think you know who are supposedly going to help you out of this. You’re not just a skip – you’re a bad guy. I’m not about to just let you go.”

“Aw fuck,” the man said from the back, his whole persona deflating as the realization finally dawned on him that she couldn’t be bought off so easily. “You’re one of those do gooders. Damn it! Just my luck.”

Emma didn’t bother to correct him even though she was hardly a ‘do-gooder’ as he’d so scathingly labeled her. Instead she reminded herself that talking to this man was nothing but a waste of time. Honestly, talking to most men felt like a waste of time, and at the end of the day, every man tended to show their true colors one way or another, and none of them ever appealed to her when they did. They might hide themselves well in the beginning, but no matter what men always seemed to find a way to fail to meet even the most baseline of expectations.

Except for Killian. He never let me down. He always did his best by me.

The thought was automatic as it rang out through her mind, and Emma’s immediate instinct was to miss him, which was crazy. Killian was a man – nay a boy – that she’d known more than ten years ago. She was sixteen the summer she met him, and though the thought was honest (he had, in fact, always been so good to her), it was also irrelevant. That was a whole lifetime ago. Hell, it felt like dozens of lifetimes ago. So much had changed. She was no longer the same person, and she had to imagine he was no longer the same either. Still, she wondered if that was true. Here she was writing off men in their entirety, but one possible outlier still remained.

“Get it together, Emma. You’re better than this.”

She whispered the words aloud under her breath, a common tactic to shift her thoughts from yesteryear that she’d developed as time went by. She had to pivot her thinking, and talking to herself, however strange, always seemed to help her do that quickly. The only problem was she still had an audience, and she’d totally forgotten that, only remembering when her perp responded to her with a pointed question that made her jump.

“So you are considering my proposition?”

“Hell no,” Emma rebutted, her eyes automatically rolling at the level of stupid that kept coming from this guy’s mouth. “I’m dropping you off, collecting my check, and then promptly forgetting you even exist.”

“Then what are better than?” Booth asked, his face shifting from hopeful to something a bit more sinister. Emma could see him trying to calculate an angle, no doubt aimed at manipulating her into letting him go. People didn’t get so far in running cons like he did without having that ability to play off a person’s weaknesses. “Sounds like you have a lot on your conscience Emma. Something weighing heavily on you? An old regret perhaps?”

“That’s none of your business,” Emma said with as much calm as she could muster, thankful as she rounded the corner and sidled up to the courthouse. She parked her car and opened the back door, not surprised that her guilty guest was less than interested in complying. He remained seated, and Emma tried to anticipate if he was going to play the dead weight card or try to make a run for it. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. But fair warning, the hard way is also the painful way.”

“Yeah right – like you’re going to hurt me somehow.”

“I took you down didn’t I?” Emma asked, her hand moving to her hip as she raised a brow at him. How fickle some people’s memories were. Clearly he’d forgotten the finer details of her apprehending him, including the part where he started running across the pizza joint she’d found him at and she stopped him by pushing a chair in his way, causing him to trip and fall with a crash to the ground.

“You got lucky. Bet you can’t do that twice.”

“Yeah, maybe. But see the thing is I don’t need luck, because I have this.” She pulled out her trusty tazer from the pocket of her red leather jacket and just because this guy was pissing her off, she fired it up, letting the buzz of the electricity start to circulate as a spark jumped visibly before them. “So let me ask this again. Are you going to get smart, or am I about to have a lot more fun than I bargained for?”

“All right, all right! Jeez, you really are crazy,” he exclaimed, getting up from the car and allowing her to maneuver him into the side door where on the lam defendants were deposited.

“That’s what they all say,” Emma sighed dramatically. “You could at least go for something more original.”

There was no reason to bother with goodbyes once Emma was inside. She’d meant what she said before; she absolutely planned to get her money and immediately forget about this low life. With minimal fuss she handed Booth over to the officers at the scene and then moved to the administrative desk to collect her skip amount and put yet another successful catch down on her record.

“Damn, Emma! Are you serious right now? The earliest person on the office pool said Booth would be at least a month long hunt. The BPD has been yammering on about his connections and underground network, but you make this look so easy.”

The words of praise came from Ruby, a sassy and sarcastic worker here who Emma always seemed to get along with. She wouldn’t call them friends per se, but they understood each other, and Emma was always willing to engage with her a little more than the others who worked here at the courthouse. Ruby had a good sense of humor, and she too seemed to genuinely understand the less than stellar nature of the average man too, which came up a lot when Emma dropped off her fugitives.

“What can I say? I was born for this.”

“Born to be a bail bonds person?” Ruby asked with a laugh. “Hardly. I still think you should be using those skills elsewhere. You’d make a great cop, or sheriff, maybe FBI. Or ooh – CIA! I can totally see you as a spy. You’d lure them all in with a little black dress and then you’d take down them down, and a whole country with it.”

“Eh, sounds like a lot of work,” Emma said with a shake of her head. “Besides, we both know no one else in this city is as good at this as me. What would the greater Boston area even do without me?”

“Good point,” Ruby acknowledged. “You’re practically the savior. Or the garbage collector. God I can’t believe some of these people. Like Booth – no morals. He stole a car from an elderly couple at a hospital. A hospital! It’s disgusting,” Ruby said with a shiver, and Emma absolutely agreed. It was heinous, but unfortunately not the worst crimes she’d ever heard of around these parts. “Anyway let’s get your forms all filled out. I know how the savior really operates – you’re probably jonesing to be alone.”

Emma offered a friendly smile, but even the off-handed turn of phrase sparked something in her. Jones. That was Killian’s last name and now that was twice that she’d thought about someone who should have long ago been forgotten. What was with her today? It wasn’t totally unheard of for her to think of him, but still. This was a lot – and yet she couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t enough.

“If you want my advice though, you should really stick around. There’s a new ADA here today, I guess he’s heading that children’s advocacy unit that the Governor installed last month, and he is hot – hot – HOT,” Ruby proclaimed without a care in the world as she fanned himself.

“I didn’t think you went for hot shot lawyers,” Emma teased, knowing that based on the guys who came in here claiming to want her attention after a night or two of her time, a lawyer would not be Ruby’s usual cup of tea. “Not enough tattoos to pass the Ruby Lucas standard.”

“I know, I know. Sadly I’m more likely to find a match on the wrong side of the bars in here. It’s really terrible. I wish they made something to cure that.”

“Extensive therapy?” Emma offered and Ruby shook her head.

“Nah I’m thinking tequila. Speaking of, some of the girls from my apartment building are going out this weekend. You should come with us.”

Emma was stunned at the offer. This was an escalation in terms of attempts at friendship made by Ruby and Emma didn’t know how she felt about that. She knew she liked Ruby and that she was a good person with a good sense of humor, but she didn’t really do the whole ‘friends’ thing. Emma was a loner and that was sort of all she knew.

“Let me stop you before you tell me something like ‘I don’t want to intrude’ or ‘I might be busy.’ You are coming out with us, and you’re going to have fun. It’s a great bar near Fenway – hidden enough so we don’t have to deal with tourists, but a good vibe all around. We’ll drink, we’ll eat, we’ll talk shit about celebrities or whatever and you will love it, even if you hate it at first.”

“You sound awfully convinced that this is happening.”

“I am. I know you’re guarded, Emma, but I’m not looking to break down any walls or anything. This is just fun, and when’s the last time you really had fun?”

It had been forever since Emma could recall a time when she was more than just content or surviving. Fun was a foreign concept to her, and in her life as a foster kid and then an independent adult, she had very few glimpses in her past that a normal person would consider enjoyable. It was for this reason that she was hesitant to commit to anything, but her gut, the intuition that she always trusted, was talkative in this moment, and it told her to give this a try even if it scared her just a little bit.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Emma said, prompting an excited squeal from Ruby. Before her new friend could get any ideas Emma put her hand up in physical warning. “But I will not be talking about my feelings and I am not getting blindly set up, so if this an attempt at doing that you better squash that idea now. We clear?”

“Crystal,” Ruby said with glee. She gave Emma the details of where they were going, and looked like she was about to talk more about the impending outing when something caught her gaze across the way. “Oh shit, incoming! Hot lawyer guy at two o’clock.”

An announcement like that would usually never mean much to Emma. She didn’t get worked up over the prospect of a hot guy, but before she turned she felt her stomach flutter slightly, a very unfamiliar feeling for as of late. It was strange and unexpected, but nothing could compare to the feelings that slammed into her all at once and she saw who was standing there, talking to one of the bailiffs outside of the courtroom.

“Killian?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and Emma didn’t even mean to say his name aloud at all, but she knew she must have when Ruby replied.

“Oh my god, do you know him?! You really do work fast, honey. He like just got here. This is his first day in the courtroom, and from what I hear he’s already killing it.”

Emma had no ability to respond to that information even though she craved more on a cellular level. She was consumed with so many thoughts and wants and emotions. Could this really be Killian? He was so different, so altered. The boy she knew was just that – a boy – but this man… Holy crap he was hot! Ruby had not been exaggerating, but it was more than just attraction. Emma could see in his mannerisms and from the easy smile that he had with a man who must be a relative stranger that he was still good and kind. It made her knees tremble to behold him in all the glory of this suit and with the swagger and confidence of a damn good attorney. Then he turned to her and she was totally lost, and after only the briefest moment of worry that he wouldn’t remember her, he eased her every fear on the subject.

“Emma?” he said, excusing himself immediately from the bailiff’s company as he walked towards her.

Oh shit! Oh shit! He’s coming this way. What do I do? What do I say? Ahh!

“Uh, hi,” was all she could come up with and she almost groaned at how basic that was. If someone could die of mortification, Emma was currently coming close to such a deadly level. She hadn’t felt this way since she was a girl, and she couldn’t tell if she loathed it or kind of loved it.

“I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing here? How did you – I mean where did you…?”

Killian’s questions trailed off as his gaze took her in. He hid nothing from her, and the deep cerulean eyes she’d always loved and dreamed of for years traced her features with undeniable longing. She could get lost in the intensity of his expression, and again she was struck by how impossibly handsome he was, but this moment was made all the more breathtaking when she noticed how glad he was to see her again. He was more than happy, and he even seemed relieved, as if somehow, all this time, he’d been looking for her. The thought made her heart pound in her chest because she herself had considered looking for him for ages. It was one of the great ironies of her life: she found people for a living, but for years she’d kept herself from finding him again, scared that the response wouldn’t be enough. She’d always been tempted, but she’d never gathered the courage to take the leap and try.

“God, I can’t believe it’s really you,” he murmured, his voice clear but also filled with emotion. His touch of an accent washed over her, sending a buzzy sensation coursing through her and lighting her up inside. She wanted to smile, but she was still too stunned to even speak.

“This is the part where you reciprocate the feeling, Ems,” Ruby said, pulling Emma back from her wandering thoughts and the feeling of shock that seeing Killian stirred in her. Emma was still speechless, and she looked at Ruby in a silent cry for help that the brunette immediately answered. “Not sure how long it’s been since you too have seen each other, but Emma is a bailbonds person. She’s actually the best damn asset in the city. She’s got the most catches three years running.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Killian said with a smile and Emma’s heart skipped even as she gave him a quizzical look. “You were always brilliant, and tracking people down is no easy feat. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You have?” Emma asked, finally finding her voice.

“Aye,” he said, moving forward so the air around them practically crackled with anticipation. Emma felt a rush of energy; her whole body felt fit to burst with an instinctive want to move closer even while her rational brain said she should bolt. This was too much; it was too impossible. She shouldn’t be feeling this. She shouldn’t start hoping for things, because hoping for things was the surest way to end up disappointed. “Emma, I-,”

Whatever Killian was going to say got interrupted by a boisterous gaggle of defense attorneys stampeding in the door. They had no respect for the ‘Quiet please’ signs in the area and completely broke the moment. Ruby, for her part, was extra irritated since the nuisance pulled her from openly gawking at Emma and Killian. She had to go and shush the offenders, but the sudden change of pace was all the interruption Emma needed to start feeling like her only choice was to flee. This was too much for her to handle and she was seconds from making a run for it, but then she felt Killian’s hand touch hers and the world stopped. The noise faded away and a hundred beautiful, perfect memories came rushing back to her as he held her hand in his.

“Please, Emma.” His tone begged for her to look at him and when she did she could see the earnest desire written all over his face. “I know it’s been a long time – God it feels like lifetimes ago – but I can’t leave you again thinking it’ll be the last time I see you. I don’t have it in me.”

“I know,” Emma confessed, her voice starting to break. “But it’s crazy. Everything’s different. We’re different. We have different lives. You could be married. You could be -,”

“I am not now nor have I ever been married,” he stated firmly, as if he was offended that she’d even suspect a catch like him could have tied the knot.

“Girlfriend?” Emma asked, hating that her curiosity was getting the better of her.

“No. There’s been no one truly special in my life. Not for a very long time.”

Emma knew instinctively that he was talking about her, and it was the only way she found the bravery to reply with complete honesty. “Me too.”

“Thank God for that,” he exclaimed, his breath coming out in a relieved wave as his thumb ran across her skin, sending sublime sensation through her whole being. “Go out with me tonight.”

“Tonight?” Emma asked, surprised at how immediate that request was.

“Aye. I don’t think I could bear the wait, and I’ve no shame in admitting that. I’d ask you out for this very moment, but I have another case being called in thirty minutes that I can’t postpone.”

Emma smiled despite the flurry of emotions she was grappling with. God, she’d always loved that about him. He was so unabashedly open with her, and that tendency had given her the space to be exactly who she was when they’d been together all those years ago. She never felt alone with him, and through some kind of magic, he always made her believe that it was okay to be vulnerable and to admit what she really wanted most of all.

“All right, tonight. But where are we going?”

“Leave that to me, love,” he replied and the term of endearment made her light up instantly. She’d missed that so much. She’d missed him so much, more than words could ever say. “Do you trust me?”

“I want to,” Emma replied quietly and though she thought he might be disappointed by her inability to promise absolutely faith in him right now, he only grinned in that boyish, charming way he’d been prone to way back when.

“We’ll get there. Starting with this date – we’ll find our way, together.”

“So it is a date?” Emma confirmed, excitement bubbling over at the firmness in his tone as she typed in her number to the phone Killian had quickly handed her.

“Aye, love. It’s a date.”

With that, and with a all too fleeting final farewell where Killian took her hand once more and raised it to his lips in a gentle kiss, her long lost what-if took his leave of her again. And though she still didn’t love the feeling of him walking away, Emma was comforted with the fact that she’d see him again in just a few more hours, and that hopefully this time she’d never really have to let him go again.

Post-Note: So despite the fact that I have so much other stuff on my plate writing-wise, I got struck with this story idea and I couldn’t put it down. It was originally going to be a mixtape and end right here (I know, it’s barely even begun!) but I have decided to make it into a short multi-chapter story. It’s pretty surface level stuff, a brief burst of fluff, and probably only about three parts, but it will be filled with cuteness, rest assured. Anyway thank you so much for reading, and I can’t wait to hear what all of you think!

[antivancoffeelover]

I have a genuine question. How often do you actually deal with antis? I've been following you for a bit now and it seems every so often you bring up antis. I've certainly kept my interest about thorki shut and locked away in a box from my friends for the simple fact that all of them think it's incest. It's not an easy topic of conversation but you just seem to handle all the antis so well? Also on an off note about beast!Thor, his favorite pass time must just be rutting into Loki 24/7 🤔

when someone tells you that you're romanticizing abuse [bc i made a stockholm moodboard for a fic] I don't know what I'm supposed to say other than I don't condone it but I write about it? Is writing about abusive relationships bad in writing??? you're the only person i ask for advice so thank you for anything in advance

i’m honestly really glad you came to me. i really do like discussing this topic in this kind of way bc i’ll never reblog an anti or answer an anti ask. even if you’re arguing against them, i don’t think it’s worth it to argue against them if it means also spreading what they’re saying

the basic premise of all anti behavior and ideology is censorship. that’s all it is. 

“i don’t like this topic, you need to stop writing it and making art for it. if you don’t stop there will be consequences.”

that is censorship and that is the kind of shit fandom has had to fight ever since there’s been fandom. women, poc, lgbt+ folks have been dealing with people telling us what we can and can’t write and enjoy for... well, probably forever. but we’re still here, creating the kind of content we want to see and indulge in.

as far as how to deal with antis, my advice is to ignore, ignore, ignore. they want what any bully wants: attention

you stop paying attention, you stop giving them time they don’t deserve from you, they’ll die off. there’s no point in fighting them directly. produce the content you want to see and enjoy what you want to enjoy. drown them out. you don’t owe them a response just because they come to you. they don’t have any qualms about being rude to you, so be rude back and just ignore them. i love blocking antis, personally. take out the garbage, y’know?

antis use the words ship and support as synonyms because they think that shipping is some radical call to action for lgbt rep instead of entertainment

shipping is not activism. shipping is about entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more

so this is why i have this very blasé attitude about antis. i just don’t give a fuck about them beyond making posts trashing their idiocy. because that’s what it is. it’s idiocy, but going deeper it’s puritanism at its finest. antis use fox news scare tactic logic under the guise of some pseudo feminist agenda because they don’t understand and don’t want to understand that enjoying dark fiction as entertainment isn’t equivalent to some greater moral stance

they use the same argument about shipping and fanfiction that WASP moms use against video games and loud music: that enjoying and consuming it will make you think it’s normal and there’s nothing wrong with it irl

okay, well, vlad the impaler never played CoD or far cry and caligula never watched hentai but we know why i’m bringing them up in this context without even heading over to wikipedia, don’t we?

they use the words abuse and pedophilia waaaaaayy too liberally and they’re doing more harm than good because they’re twisting and warping words that should have very specific meanings by using them so goddamn vaguely and irresponsibly 

my own personal theory is that these people are terrified that if they don’t yell in opposition to these topics 24/7 and actively attack content creators that they’d probably enjoy it, and they’ve been so programmed by the echo chamber of tumblr and twitter that they think this means they’re bad people. 

spoiler alert: that’s not what it means

i literally watched a circle jerk on twitter where screenshots of some mafia starker au got tweeted and retweeted w/ pictures of someone pouring bleach into cereal and people had asked to see more of the post. if you really don’t like something, you shouldn’t hate-read about it. it’s not productive, it does more harm than good if that’s the actual issue rather than some reverse psychology-style enjoyment they’re probably getting out of it.

they claim to hate this shit so much, but they’re reading hundreds and thousands of words and putting these images in their heads of their own free will. i don’t do that with shit i genuinely dislike. i avoid it.

i see antis say they enjoy thorki fanart because they think it’s cute, then they see it’s tagged thorki and they have an over the top reaction because the nature of anti ideology states you should never enjoy something like that, so if you do then you have to make the excuse of ignorance to prove that you’re still innocent and pure. enjoyment is apologism to them because they aren’t content to simply attack fan creators, they want to try and drive away the people who consume our art as well because they know you’re the cornerstone of fandom. consumers are why creators create. yeah, i write because i enjoy it, but i also write to connect to my readers and have people commenting on my fics when they like them.

it’s also worth noting that antis only ever talk about shipping. they only talk about sexual and romantic ships. i’ve never seen an anti talk about (often extreme) levels of violence in canon source material for the ships and characters they want to froth at the mouth over. 

seeing someone bleed out and choking on their own blood after being stabbed or shot or bludgeoned? meh

seeing a character who was once a child have a sexual thought about a character who was also once a child and is also their close friend? omg why are we trying to make fandom unsafe for people?

personally, i’ve also noticed that fandoms with darker canon material tend to have more chill fandoms most of the time. i think it also depends on the average age in a given fandom. there’s a major difference between fannibals and steven universe fans, let’s just say that.

creating a moodboard for a dark fic is not “romanticizing abuse” and at this point antis honestly have no fucking idea what that phrase is. they use those words the way a bored CEO uses social media buzzwords and hashtags in a staff meeting

if antis want to see true romanticizing of abuse then they can go to serial killer thirst tags and spot the fucking differences between shippers and people who forget that ted bundy was weak, flaccid, cowardly piece of shit

writing something dark or violent or whatever else and condoning the act or doing the act are different. this is why stephen king isn’t under government surveillance or in prison.

make no mistake, this anti shit only applies to fandom. they’re attacking creators here because creators out at the professional levels don’t give a fuck. they’ve tried, and they’ve failed. 

creators at the professional level understand something antis don’t: that being able to reconcile your enjoyment of dark media can be a sign of emotional intelligence and good emotional health. it’s cathartic. it’s allowed to be cathartic.

the most common consumers of dark fiction are members of minority communities and people who’ve been emotionally and/or sexually repressed for one reason or another. 

antis want to say that fiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum and they are 100% correct! because writing fanfiction and original fiction that relates to parts of my life that nearly killed me gives me control over something that was beyond me in the original context. writing about fucked up codependent, violent romance allows me to process my shit in a way that’s healthy and produces something fun and enjoyable.

my therapist knows i ship thorki, she knows i write thorki. i’ve had her read pieces of fanfiction i’ve written in addition to pieces of original fiction. y’know what she said? “wow, baylen, that’s vivid. you have a way with words!”

i read her a line out of smart boy and told her what the story was about and this trained professional said “well it’s a productive way to process some emotion that you clearly need to let out”

but you know what? if someone doesn’t have the trauma i have? let them write it, too! let them create and enjoy the fictional content they want! more cake, y’all!

finally getting around to one of the first parts of your ask, lol. thorki is incest. thor and loki are brothers. they were raised believing they were blood brothers, even. loki being adopted doesn’t change a thousand years of personal history where thor looked at loki and thought that they came out of the same woman, y’know? 

that’s his brother and in the comics his attachment to loki is even more intense. the mcu nerfed that shit. loki’s life has been intrinsically tied to thor’s ability to feel a full sense of joy. 

enjoying an incest ship isn’t some sign of moral depravity. writing abusive relationships isn’t bad. gone girl was made into an award winning movie. art should look like life, and sometimes life fucking sucks. dark stories, sad stories, fucked up holy shit idk if i can go to sleep after i read this stories exist for a reason. we need them. we have to have an outlet for our frustration, our anger, and especially our fear.

so which is the healthier option of these

to write up a piece of fanfiction where two siblings are in love in a way that might be cute and soft or might be destructive, depending on your mood?

or

attacking strangers you don’t know online and threatening violence against anyone who doesn’t think like you do?

i know what kind of person i want to be.

ship and let ship, thanks for reading my doctoral thesis office hours are always

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 22: Invitations

Also on ao3

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TT: I apologize if I’m currently intruding on your personal time, but I would like to invite you to a party I am throwing soon.

CG: HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU BE INTRUDING ON MY PERSONAL TIME? CG: I THINK WE KNOW EACH OTHER WELL ENOUGH FOR YOU TO MESSAGE ME WHENEVER THE HELL YOU WANT. CG: EVEN IF IT’S THREE IN THE MORNING, BUT I’D STILL YELL AT YOU FOR WAKING ME UP LIKE ANY REASONABLE PERSON WOULD.

TT: Noted. TT: Well, anyway, I am personally inviting you to a celebratory party I’m throwing to commemorate the publishing of my newest book.

CG: OH! CG: CONGRATULATIONS!

TT: Yes, I will be excited to relax for the next couple of weeks instead of frantically writing in an effort to meet an arbitrary deadline. TT: There is the exception of book signings, but those don’t take too long.

CG: WHEN’S THE PARTY THOUGH? CG: I NEED TO KNOW IF I’LL BE ABLE TO BE THERE.

TT: It’s in about a month. TT: I need to offer people an apt amount of time to plan for the party. TT: It’s not on too short notice that the majority of people won’t be able to be there and not too much notice to the point where people completely forget about it.

CG: AH, YES. CG: THE CLASSIC MAKING CERTAIN THAT MOST PEOPLE CAN’T MAKE AN EXCUSE AS TO WHY THEY ARE UNABLE TO ATTEND YOUR PARTY.

TT: Precisely. TT: I want as many individuals as possible to be trapped by social obligation.

CG: DIABOLICAL.

TT: Yes, I am the greatest supervillain alive. TT: And by that, I mean I eliminated my competition until they had no choice than to elevate me to the number one supervillain.

CG: I’D SAY THAT JUST PROVES THAT YOU’RE THE BEST SUPERVILLAIN. CG: DESTROYING THE COMPETITION LIKE THAT? CG: ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CONSIDERED BETTER THAN YOU BEFORE.

TT: Yes, it took elaborate planning and all of my wit, but I finally managed to stab my opponent's eyes out with my knitting needles. TT: My part is actually meant to celebrate my ascension to the top of the criminal ladder.

CG: I’LL BE SURE TO CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR ACHIEVEMENT AT THE PARTY.

TT: That would be greatly appreciated, particularly since it’s a secret only known by the criminal community. TT: The only ones to congratulate me have been lowly villains and the mafia who are after my spot. TT: It’s good to know that someone who’s not going to turn me in or try to kill me knows the work I have actually done.

CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW I WON’T TURN YOU IN?

TT: I’m dating your moirail, and she would be upset if I went missing or went to jail. TT: I think I’m safe.

CG: FAIR ENOUGH. CG: AND WHAT OF THE BLACKMAIL I KNOW HAVE ON YOU?

TT: I have more blackmail on you than you have on me.

CG: TOUCHÉ.

TT: You can’t lay a finger on me. TT: That being said, we should really talk in person sometime. TT: I feel we don’t really meet up enough outside of your place of employment.

CG: WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST?

TT: Coffee, perhaps? TT: I would also like to note that I am not asking you on a date. TT: This is a purely platonic hangout. TT: I mean absolutely no offense by this, but I don’t feel any romantic attraction to you at all.

CG: LIKEWISE.

TT: I’m glad we have come to an agreement. TT: Also, going out for coffee is somewhat hypothetical because of how busy I’ll be for the next month. TT: The book signings won’t take much time, but I will have a plethora of them planned, and I still have to finish planning for the party. TT: Not to mention that I have high standards for coffee, and all the coffee I enjoy tends to be from the higher end, more expensive coffee shops.

CG: THAT’S FINE. CG: WE CAN JUST HANG OUT SOMETIME AFTER YOUR PARTY. CG: ALSO, I DON’T MIND EXPENSIVE COFFEE SO LONG AS YOU PAY FOR IT.

TT: That’s fair. TT: now that we’ve made these plans, I’m afraid I have to say bye for now. TT: I have more invitations to send out.

CG: I HOPE YOU’RE NOT PLANNING ON GIVING ALL YOUR GUESTS PERSONAL INVITATIONS.

TT: I’m only giving them to close friends. TT: Everyone else gets an automatic responder that my brother made.

CG: DAVE MADE AN AUTORESPONDER?

TT: No. TT: My older brother Dirk made it. TT: He’s very skilled with technology. TT: Dave is smart, but I don’t think that kind of thing is part of his skill set. TT: He’s more of a language and history guy. TT: Although he is pretty into science, I suppose. TT: He ended up majoring in Paleontology in college.

CG: OH, THAT’S PRETTY COOL.

TT: Yeah, he was originally going to go into music, and then switched to video editing before settling into Paleontology. TT: But seriously. TT: I do actually have to go now, regardless of how pleasant it is to chat with you.

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

-- autoResponder [AR] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

AR: Congratulations! AR: You have been invited to [location] for [celebratory occasion]. AR: There will be [food] and [drinks]. AR: Please send your regrets to [phone number]. AR: We hope you come and have a(n) [adjective] time. AR: This message has been sent on behalf of [name].

CG: WHAT IS THIS-A MADLIBS GAME? CG: I’M NOT A FUCKING WRIGGLER! CG: AND WHAT EVENT ARE YOU EVEN INVITING ME TO?

AR: Sorry, bro. AR: It seems like there was a 47.834% chance that I malfunctions for a hot second there. AR: You know how batshit technology can be sometimes. AR: Except me. AR: I’m the perfect responder.

CG: WELL, YOU MALFUNCTIONED, SO YOU CAN’T BE *THAT* PERFECT.

AR: If I had actual emotions, I would be offended by that. AR: But I, as a superior robot, will respond with dignity and grace. AR: Fuck you.

CG: WOW. SO CREATIVE. CG: I’VE HEARD BETTER INSULTS FROM A ROCK ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.

AR: I don’t need to respond to that.

CG: YOU JUST DID. CG: THAT’S YOU JOB-YOU AUTOMATICALLY RESPOND TO EVERYTHING.

AR: Touché.

CG: DON’T YOU *TOUCHÉ* ME.

AR: What are you, my mom? AR: All telling me not to talk back and shit. AR: You’re not even related to me.

CG: *FUCK* CG: AND I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH CG: *YOU*

AR: Didn’t you tell me off for using the exact same insult earlier?

CG: YEAH, BUT I USED *ASTRECKS.*

AR: So it’s automatically better?

CG: YES.

AR: Wow. AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU TOO, YOU FESTERING PILE OF SCRAP METAL!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: FUCK YOU!

AR: Fuck you.

CG: DO I NEED TO GET MY OWN PERSONAL AUTO-RESPONDER TO EXCLUSIVELY SAY *FUCK YOU* CONSTANTLY WHENEVER ANYONE TYPES ANYTHING?

AR: I wouldn’t recommend it. AR: People catch on pretty quick that it’s not you and then everything just gets awkward.

CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?

AR: Experience.

CG: I DON’T EVEN THINK I WANT TO KNOW.

AR: Aw-that’s such a shame. AR: i have some very interesting stories.

CG: I. CG: DO. CG: NOT. CG: WANT. CG: TO. CG: KNOW. CG: THANK YOU VERY MUCH, YOU RUSTY DILDO.

AR: That was the best insult I’ve ever heard. AR: Please insult me more. AR: Not in a sexual way because I'm technically thirteen and sixteen at the same time. AR: Regardless, sill a minor. AR: Even if I am a robot. AR: It’s merely an interest in the insults you could come up with for me.

CG: I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO DO THAT. CG: AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN ANSWER MY QUESTION. CG: WHAT EVENT DID YOU EVEN INVITE ME TO?

AR: hold on, I’ve got to recalibrate some shit. AR: Loading… AR: Loading… AR: Loading… AR: just kidding. AR: I don’t actually need to do that. AR: Here’s the message just for you. AR: Congratulations! AR: You have been invited to [Rose’s mansion] for [the celebration of a new book release]. AR: There will be [food] and [drinks]. AR: Please send your regrets to [Rose’s phone number]. AR: We hope you come and have a(n) [great] time. AR: This message has been sent on behalf of [Rose Lalonde].

CG: I ALREADY KNEW THAT INFORMATION.

AR: What, really?

CG: YEAH, ROSE TOLD ME HERSELF.

AR: Oh, wow. AR: I can hardly believe you’re close friends with Rose.

CG: I’M NOT REALLY. CG: I’M JUST HER MATESPRIT’S MOIRAIL.

AR: That makes more sense. AR: No offense, but actually a lot of offense because that’s generally what no offense means, but you seem a little too shouty for Rose.

CG: HM.

AR: Hm?

CG: YES, HM. CG: HM AS IN I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HOW AN AI FEELS ABOUT MY FRIENDSHIP WITH ROSE. CG: FRANKLY, IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

AR: Actually, I’m her brother, so it is kind of my business.

CG: BUT YOU’RE NOT A BIOLOGICAL LIFEFORM?

AR: No, but I am based on her brother’s brain. AR: The thirteen-year-old brain of her brother, at least.

CG: OH, SO THAT’S WHY YOU’RE SO INSUFFERABLE.

AR: Insufferably cool, you mean.

CG: MAYBE THE FLESH DAVE, BUT NOT YOU.

AR: Oh, I’m not based on Dave. AR: I’m based on Dirk.

CG: OH, GOD, I FORGOT THAT DAVE HAD SIBLINGS BESIDES ROSE. CG: I SHOULD HAVE PROBABLY KNOWN THAT, ESPECIALLY SINCE ROSE LITERALLY TOLD ME JUST A BIT AGO. CG: HOW MANY SIBLINGS EVEN ARE IN YOUR FAMILY?

AR: Four. AR: Five if you include me. AR: Dave Strider, Dirk strider, Rose Lalonde, Roxy Lalonde, and me, Hal Lalonde.

CG: WHY ARE YOU LALONDE INSTEAD OF STRIDER?

AR: Reasons. AR: Also, what was up with the “FLESH DAVE” thing?

CG: I FIGURED SAYING REAL DAVE WOULD BE OFFENSIVE TO YOU. CG: YOU AREN’T EXACTLY “FAKE.”

AR: Oh. AR: How sweet. AR: Alright, I now approve of your friendship with Rose.

CG: I DIDN’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL, BUT ALRIGHT.

AR: Hey. AR: Listen.

CG: I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A FICTIONAL FAIRY.

AR: That is a heavily desired state, but that isn’t the point I was going to make. AR: I have to make sure that my siblings are friends with good people.

CG: I DON’T THINK THAT’S YOUR JOB, BUT OKAY.

AR: Do siblings not usually worry about if their siblings are handing out with the wrong crowd?

CG: I WOULDN'T’ KNOW. CG: TROLLS GENERALLY DON’T HAVE SIBLINGS.

AR: Oh. AR: I guess I’m so used to having siblings that I forget that some people don’t have them.

CG: SEEMS WEIRD TO FORGET SOMETHING AS AN AI.

AR: So it seems.

CG: ANYWAY, I’VE GOT SOME SHIT TO DO, SO I’M GONNA OLLIE OUTIE. CG: FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME AGAIN, I GUESS.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling autoResponder [AR] --

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] --

CG: HEY, KANAYA.

GA: Karkat Thank God You Have Messaged Me At A Time Of Distress

CG: WHAT ARE YOU UPSET ABOUT?

GA: I Recently Had A Conversation With Rose Wherein She Invited Me To A Celebration Of Her Newest Book And I Am Unaware Of The Proper Protocol At Such An Event GA: What Do I Say GA: What Sorts Of People Will Be There GA: Should I Bring A Gift GA: What Do I Wear GA: There Are So Many Factors To Consider I Have No Idea Where To Start GA: Oh Wait Im So Sorry Karkat You Probably Had Something You Wanted To Talk About

CG: NO, IT’S FINE. CG: I MOSTLY JUST WANTED TO TALK TO YOU.

GA: Oh GA: Okay

CG: NOW, YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT ROSE’S PARTY?

GA: Yes Extremely So

CG: I COULD SAY THAT YOU SHOULDN’T WORRY ABOUT IT TOO MUCH BECAUSE ROSE WILL JUST BE HAPPY BY YOU BEING THERE, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THAT WON’T WORK SUPER WELL. CG: ESPECIALLY SINCE THE PARTY’S IN A MONTH.

GA: Do You Already Know The Details Of The Party

CG: YEAH, ROSE INVITED ME TOO. CG: WHICH ALSO MEANS I CAN ACCOMPANY YOU TO THE PARTY IF THAT WOULD MAKE YOU MORE COMFORTABLE.

GA: Yes That Would Be Greatly Appreciated GA: I Still Have Worries But You Being There With Me Would Make Me Feel Less Nervous

CG: LET’S TRY AND ADDRESS THOSE WORRIES. CG: WE COULD START WITH CLOTHING BECAUSE THAT’S PRETTY SIMPLE TO TAKE CARE OF. CG: MARIE KONDO YOUR WORRIES. CG: FOCUS EXCLUSIVELY ON WHAT TO WEAR FOR NOW.

GA: What About Everything Else

CG: WE HAVE A MONTH. CG: WE CAN WORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE LATER.

GA: Alright I Will Try

CG: IT’S A FORMAL EVENT, SO YOU CAN IGNORE MOST OF YOUR CLOSET. CG: IT’S ALSO NOT BLACK TIE, SO YOU’RE FREE TO WEAR COLOR.

GA: Should I Wear A Dress Or A Skirt

CG: THINK THAT DEPENDS ON THE LENGTH YOU WANT TO GO

GA: Does It

CG: YEAH-MOST OF YOUR SHORTER SKIRTS AREN’T REALLY FORMAL, SO IF YOU WANT TO GO WITH A SHORTER SKIRT, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY WEAR A DRESS.

GA: I Forgot About That GA: I Think However I Will Wear A Long Dress GA: Which Certainly Narrows It Down By A Significant Margin GA: Maybe Something More On The Sexy Side GA: Probably Not The Red One GA: Its A Little Too GA: Hello There GA: Its My Thigh

CG: FAIR ENOUGH. CG: WHAT ABOUT THE BLACK ONE? CG: THE ONE WITH THE JADE EDGES WITH THE WHITE STRAPS CONNECTING THE SLIT AT THE TOP?

GA: Honestly That Is Probably The Best Option GA: I Can Wear My Moon Choker GA: The One That Has Chains Attached To It GA: What Earrings Should I Wear GA: Would It Be Weird To Wear The Sailor Moon Ones

CG: IT MIGHT.

GA: Ill Stick To The Dangly Star Ones Then

CG: THE ONES WITH MULTIPLE STARS OR JUST ONE?

GA: Just One GA: The Other Ones Are A Little Too Much GA: Ill Wear My Rose Bracelet For An Extra Splash Of Color And My Half Inch Black Heels

CG: GOING FOR COMFORT THERE. CG: THAT’S A GOOD IDEA. CG: YOU DON’T WANT TO END THE NIGHT WITH BLISTERS.

GA: That Would Not Be Ideal No GA: But I Still Want To Hear The Click Clack Of Heels When I Walk GA: Its A Very Powerful Feeling GA: Now Theres The Makeup Look To Worry About GA: Should There Be More Focus On The Eyes Or The Lips GA: And What Should I Match My Lipstick To GA: The Dress The Dress Accents Or Should I Match To The Rose Bracelet

CG: SO, BLACK, JADE, OR RED LIPSTICK?

GA: Yes Those Seem To Be The Options GA: Black Seems Too Subtle GA: Would It Be Strange To Not Wear Red Lipstick GA: Because Then The Rose Would Be Alone In Its Hue GA: But Red Might Be Too Bright

CG: YOU COULD WEAR A DARKER RED. CG: WHAT’S THAT ONE LIPSTICK YOU HAVE? CG: VAMPIRE BLOOD OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT?

GA: Yes It Is Called Vampires Blood GA: That Could Work Well GA: I Feel Like My Eye Look Should Be More Subtle GA: Some Dark Gray With A Bit Of Silver To Match My Jewelry GA: A Small Cateye In Black Eyeliner And Some Black Mascara GA: Or Should I Go For The Jade Eyeliner

CG: THE JADE MIGHT LOOK A BIT STRANGE WITH THE REST OF THE OUTFIT, ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE GOING FOR SOMETHING MORE SUBDUED.

GA: Right What Was I Thinking

CG: THAT IT WOULD GO WITH THE ACCENTS OF YOUR DRESS? CG: IT WASN’T A BAD IDEA-IT JUST WASN’T THE LOOK YOU WERE GOING FOR.

GA: Yes Thank You GA: I Think Ill Do Something Simple With My Eyebrows And Wear Some Pale Green Highlighter GA: Just Enough To Mimic Blush And Give Me Some Glowiness

CG: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT IDEA.

GA: And That Should Be Mostly It For The Outfit GA: Oh Wait What About Hair GA: How Should I Style It GA: I Could Maybe Braid Parts Of It GA: Should I even Style It Differently From Normal GA: No I Think That Might Be A Little Too Much In Terms Of Effort GA: I Dont Want To Look Over Stylized GA: So Maybe I Wont Do Anything With My Hair GA: Except Get It Cut Beforehand GA: Not To Look Fancy Of Course But Because I Should Get My Hair Cut Soon Anyway GA: So I Might As Well Do It At A Time Which Is Most Convenient To Me Fashionably Speaking GA: And I Suppose Thats It GA: Huh

CG: HUH?

GA: Its Just A Little Strange To Have This Outfit Layed Out And Only Wear It In A Month

CG: BUT DO YOU FEEL BETTER FOR HAVING IT?

GA: Yes GA: Very Much So GA: Thank You GA: For Helping Me Relieve My Silly Worries

CG: I DON’T THINK THEY WERE SILLY. CG: THEY WERE PERFECTLY VALID WORRIES, AND I’M GLAD I COULD HELP YOU WITH THEM.

GA: <><><><><><>

CG: <>

GA: I Think GA: I Think Im Going To Go Take A Nap Now

CG: SWEET DREAMS.

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

[diaryofanobsessivefangirl]

Shipnalysis: The Juror

Overview:

Vincent is a cold murderer who never needed anyone, except Annie. He has found someone just as intelligent and daring as him in her. Someone worthy to care; someone he would be willing to share his life with.

And, although never admitting it, Annie sees what he sees: Too much of herself in him. It takes a lot of guts and deviousness to convince a whole jury to release the big head of mafia, lie for the police, mislead the system’s justice to make your own revenge and plan to murder someone.

Vincent talk about freeing Annie is also a fact she wouldn’t admit to be true. From the beginning, Annie is a talented artist, but has to work as a secretary sitting on a chair in front of a computer. This is the woman that went to Guatemala to kill a member of the mafia. Her spirit was being broken on that chair, afraid she would never sell her sculptures, afraid she would spend her days in front of a computer desk until she died. She fells like a bird in a cage, trapped in a unwanted job and a mediocre existence.

Then Vincent enters her life and forces her to face all kinds of fears. Not entirely, but there were honesty on the woods scene, when she tells him "I hate you and I hate it more that you were right”. Fear made her stronger. All the trials he imposed to her reminded her once again what she was capable of. It brought back up a strength she had long forgotten.

Vincent frightens Annie, but he also challenges her. When she faces him, confidence and the sensation of being alive comes back again. A small piece of her, the piece that can’t stand to live in fear anymore, admires him because he overcame that long ago. A piece of her is fascinated by him, as well as terrified and hating.

Scenes:

MOVIE

Vincent is a psycho, but every scene he shares with Annie has a romantic atmosphere: the scene on the balcony, like forbidden lovers meeting in secret through a fence; a valentine’s gift, when Vincent gives Annie a necklace, for he would be with her whenever she wore it. The bouquet? I can’t even talk about that.

There are these moments when for everything they sound like a married couple. When he scolds her for being too hard on Oliver; when she flees and he says “She just need sometime to be alone” (Sounding like a guy left by his wife); when she is making a tantrum in the woods and tells him to whip that condescending smile of his face.

And I don’t know about you guys, but the car scene seemed a allegory for sex to me!

“Who is going to protect you, Annie?“ "The teacher. The teacher will protect me.” “Uhg? Who is going to protect you?” “The teacher. The teacher will.” “Say it again.” “The teacher will protect me.” “Again, again.” Then she screams and next they are heavy breathing

What we know about Vincent:

He grow up in the same neighborhood mafia’s big heads grew and it was probably a poor, at least a modest neighborhood.

He was friendless since as a child, but he never minded that.

He never minded anything, in fact. Louie Boffano says he knew him for 10 years and Annie was the first thing he ever saw made a impact on Vincent.

He doesn’t even blink when he murders a young boy. This + Anti-social, apathetic behavior presented since childhood. We can by now affirm Vincent has a slight level of sociopathy.

He admires Annie’s art and believes she is the owner of a talent unjustly overlooked. He is also thrilled by the fact that her work tells some much about who she is, that getting to know Annie’s art is getting to know Annie herself. Vincent keeps the pieces he bought and is very protective towards them. When he was about to kill Rodney, he spoke calmly until the visibly drunk visitor touched them.

When Vincent tells the girl on the photos, Annie, is his girlfriend to outwit Rod, he wishes it would be so. In a kind of way, she is to him. She is the woman he is daily getting to know and falling all the more in love with.

He is uneasy, but impressed that Annie found out he was The Teacher by first guess.

Vincent sees his experience with Annie as a marriage: going through the harshness together and willing to do anything to keep their child safe.

When Vincent kills Juliet, he means not to just keep Annie scared, but as a payback for convincing her to see the judge, which he sees as Juliet making Annie betray his trust and place Oliver and herself in danger for her own “hero complex” reasons.

Once Annie cleans her bank account and disappears, Vincent is afraid she is gone for good. When he says “She would never betray us”, he actually meant “She would never betray me”.

“Annie is in great danger and her child is in great danger and I will do everything that I can to protect them. Now what part of that don’t you understand? I can explain it to you.” is his way of telling the world that he loves her and Eddie practically tells him to keep his sick ideas of love to himself. Is like wanting to vent with your best buddy about this girl you’ve met, but he is not willing to hear you.

Vincent was willing to broke his agreement with the Cabbal, kill Boffano before the time planned and the entire mob, besides burning the money he won for coercing Annie, to save her. At one point, coercing Annie was not about the payment anymore, but to keep her safe from the rest of the organization.

OMG He is fucking crying because she tried to kill him! You didn’t just betray him --you set up his death! After all he had done for you! My baby!

I’m sorry, I know he is a killer, but think about the other side: Exactly because he is a cold murder, when he cries over someone, you can say how much that person meant for him. There is a quote “Just because people don’t love you the way you wish they would, doesn’t mean that they don’t love you with all their being” Vincent love was dangerous and not at all reconcilable, but it was real. He deserves to burn, doe.

Vincent knows there is no chance he will ever get out of that Maya ruin alive when he pulls that gun towards Annie. To be printed in her memory is good, but to die with her. Teacher and the Juror, Romeo and Juliet... Yes, to take Annie with him would be his last wish.

Two short moments you won’t like to miss when you watch the movie:

After Rody leaves his place, Vincent hears Annie on the speaker and holds the rod.

Vincent heavy breaths when Annie unbuttons her shirt and reveals her bra to take the police recorder from there

When he is asking Annie “If Louis Boffano didn’t order the killing then who did?” at their meeting in the rain, he sits besides her and his hand almost reach hers before he stops himself.

BOOKS

It’s canon in the book that Anne is attracted to dominance and danger. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) She rejected Turtle to shortly date Oliver's father, the singer on Turtle’s band with a drugged rock star attitude. He had none of his friend sweetness, but he had a sense of control, and she dig into him so fast she became pregnant and he left her in a few months.

One thing lovely about the book is the metaphors: how Vincent talks about Annie while actually talking about apparently unrelated stuff.

“You must keep showing her you love her. Sooner or latter, she will get rid of the padlock. In the mean time, at least you know she is not sleeping around.” He is stalking her so... yeah, he knows she is not sleeping around as well.

“We strip away the gilt and the jewels. We teach him what the world is really like. We crush those lights one by one. It won’t be easy. It’s not a matter of slapping him around a little. It takes great suffering and patience and persistence to change a things at the soul’s core. But once he learns this lesson, I believe that he’ll be grateful for it. Or I hope he will. Despite his anger. Despite his bitterness.”

“The Teacher is tending the orchids, discipline where needed. [..] How quickly, without nurturing, living things will lose their shape. Their clarity, Their order.” 

This is right after he has to remind Annie what she was risking by talking to the judge. There is a clear dichotomy in this story between chaos and order, respectively represented by Annie and The Teacher. Order stands for Vincent's design and chaos for Annie’s struggle to be free from it. Chaos will prevail, as I talk about latter on this post.

During Boffano’s trial, doe, chaos is controlled through fear. Vincent strips Annie from her morals boundaries and proves to her what she really loves is not the law or social justice, but the people close to her. Nevertheless, that same lesson pulls her off the edge when he fulfills his threat and kills Juliet. Vincent thinks keeping her scared will also keep her compliant, but Annie is the type of heroine a villain can only press that much: the harder you push her, the harder she pushes back. That is what he loved about her in the first place. With Vincent’s “lessons”, she sees through the fear that he will also kill Oliver, sends him to Quatemala and takes the risk because a beloved person was finally killed, and if Annie doesn’t retaliate because she is scared it will happen again, she will be afraid for the rest of her life.

“All you care about is your kid and your work and a handful of your friends - and if the gray suits can’t protect these, then who needs the gray suits?”

Another well-learned lesson: Annie doesn’t involve Boffano’s death and the police task with it’s legitimate procedure into her revenge plan against Juliet’s death because it was personal, but also because she had lost fate in the State's interference. Although Annie is a moral person who fought to do the right thing in Boffano’s trial before succumbing, she was just a woman against the mob. She could afford to see the bastard free; she could not afford her to have her best friend’s murderer walking free and terrorizing she and her child for life. Not realizing this was Vincent’s probably only mistake. At the same time, he showed once again they were not so different. That, although she has more boundaries than him, by the end of the day, they are ruthless in their love.

The book confirms that, after her experience with Vincent, Annie doesn’t recognize herself in her old art anymore: everything seems frivolous, warmhearted bric-a-brac. Her next piece is a house made of sharps of broken glass: stumble and you get cut. She embraces the tension she has been enduring for the last weeks through her sculpture. She opens up to fear. And it’s clear like a house with glasses filled with sunshine. Not a corner is dark and mysterious; everything is neat, all organized by some finicky spirit.

Annie knows Vincent better than anyone. Besides knowing he wouldn’t touch her and find the wire, she says the reason why she is certain he will never quit her is the same one Vincent’s gives to Eddie: “What we have been through is like a marriage”. She also knows he won’t kill her even when he is racing her and Eddie with a gun.

“Does it seem depraved---my fascination for that man?”

The Teacher says this, but it actually speaks to Annie. Like I’ve said before, their last meeting in the woods is a part in which Annie has to play with honest feelings towards him to get his trust. Yeah, she is fascinated by him. She knows Vincent himself was the one to give her the weapons to defeat him. And there is no one else she hates more for it.

Funny thing, that quote is a chapter’s title, the same chapter in which the author makes the reader question if Annie has fallen for her stalker. Before returning from Quatemala, she quotes the Teacher saying their relationship was like a marriage, the police officer is afraid “she been jumping through that bastard’s hoops so long she’s starting to like it” and Eddie wonders as he watches Annie betraying the police and get into Vincent’s car what is about him that gets to every woman. She also gives him way more reasons to hope in the book and it’s Annie herself who pulls the Teacher into a kiss. Until she shows Boffano the tape and goes like “Don't waste any time” HEY YEAH Not my Annie, bitches! Not my heroines, they don’t go Stockholm no sir

Vincent makes clear to Annie he wants to leave the mob and his ambitious plans and marry her. I’m dead.

The main difference between book and movie is the race to reach Oliver in Guatemala. First of all, Vincent’s original plan when he kills Boffano was not to protect Annie. In the book, he finds out about her betrayal before the meeting through his in-tell and that Boffano wants to take him out on that day. I prefer that in the movie his first idea was to save Annie and that we could see his face when he is told “The woman you think is the love of your life wants you dead”.

Vincent reaction to her betrayal is also more passionate on the movie. Vincent calls her half-drunk and with tears in his eyes. In the book, he seems to be walking with his wife to their son’s funeral. She doesn’t want to go, and he is like “Honey, we must do this. We must attended to the details”. He is sorrow, he is afraid for her and for him when they see the body, everything tastes bitter, but he has to keep control for both of them. He is understandable of her struggle to accept “the facts”, he is sad for her, but that doesn't seen like a reaction of a sane person. He takes his agency away from what's about to happen so sincerely that you'd think Book!Vincent is crazy if he was not full of bullshit.

Movie!Vincent will fulfill his threat of killing Oliver because power means to promise something and deliver it (The Way of Power is an unvarying way); Book!Vincent, on the order hand, believes him and Annie are tolls on the plans of something bigger. He is going to excuse himself from Oliver’s death by believing he was playing order’s role and Annie was playing chaos. When chaos tries to corrupt the rules and they become unbalanced, the Tao rages and order must be reestablished. But chaos can’t help it; it’s her nature. She would fight him and he would have to kill her child for it. Chaos struggles against the grip and order is invariable in her way, predictable. When Annie tries to take Vincent out, he “realized” they were doomed from the start and have been fighting like fools against that true. Movie!Vincent also thinks that, from the moment his path crossed with Annie’s, Oliver would die, but he doesn’t turn this into something mystical or religious. Annie, treacherous and stubborn in her fight, and him, abiding in his words as well. Two people how could not change who they are. I like this intimate zoom on the situation better.

Movie!Vincent also seems to be moved, as I’ve said, by his emotions more than Book!Vincent. He is hurt, therefore he is going to be the man he has always been. Keep his word of killing Oliver is not only about his own integrity, but also a matter of self-defense. Annie made Vincent believe they could change everything and be together, and next she shows him he was the only one willing to take a step forward from the mess they have been. The hope she might had some sort of feeling for him was a trick. Annie played with his emotions. It’s like “Ok, you wanna go back to stage zero? Fine with me”. Spoiler alert: It’s not.

He has tear in his eyes because her son is about to die and she is confused and struggling like a child. I CAN’T.

Even while he is shooting at their car in his way to kill her son, he is praising her courage.

Vincent wants to be near when she finds Oliver’s body, to comfort her. Because that sad moment belonged to them. WHAT IS THAT EVEN?!

Also, shows up out of nowhere and “Annie come into the car. Annie wanna be with me? Annie. ANNIE.” I swear, he is the Jaime Lannister of this book.

Vincent is killed by a firing squad of men in animal’s mask. The circumstances of his death is chaotic, as he states himself, like he is in a zoo. In his last moments, he tries to quote something from the Tao, but for the first time, he can’t think of any charlatan Philosophy, not among so many distractions. For a guy who relied on the calmness of “Taoism”, seems like the right death to me.

In the last seconds before his death, he thinks he has Annie under his persuasion again and he is about to convince her to leave him for the cops... till he says “for the sake of your child”. She was triggered, as was the gun in her hand.

[gguksgalaxy]

Sheltered pt. 2

Sheltered – Engraved

<– Engraved 14 | Chased 1 –> | Engraved 15 –>

<– Sheltered 1 | Sheltered 3 –>

Short: Law student and intern Kim Jongin uses his charms for a dangerous pastime behind the screens, but he falls for the most normal girl. Words: 3511 Type: Angst/Fluff Pairing: Kai x Miyong (oc) Notes for update: 25 Warnings: mentioning of an injury and killing, illegalities etc. A/N: This will run chronologically with Engraved, but it’s not needed to read this to understand Engraved, but the parts posted for Engraved after this will contain spoilers. It is also not necessary to read Engraved to understand what is happening here. But it will make things more clear.

AFF link Engraved line AFF link Sheltered only

Miyong pov

There was a knock at her door and she put down the knife where she was cutting up vegetables. “Coming!” she called. Her apartment wasn’t big, just a living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. She stopped when she reached the door. It was Jongin. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and light wash skinny jeans. There was hesitation in her before she opened the door. “Jongin.” “Hey.” He smiled, beautifully so, as always. And it still made her heart thump even though everything she’d learnt. “Can I come in?” She nodded and stepped aside to let him in, he shivered and unzipped his jacket. “I thought we agreed to meet at the studio.” He looked at her, licking his lips absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. But I thought w-we maybe should talk before…you know…because of everything.” His little stutter was quite, and by the way he fidgeted with his dark brown sweater she saw how nervous he was. That’s when she noticed. “How did you find out where I live?”

“Oh…We…can you know…find that information. It’s a little rude, I know…but if you deem me not safe to be around a bunch of kids I guess it’s easier to know that. Before we make a scene there. “I don’t mean to intrude, if you want me to leave I’ll go.” He mumbled and moved back to the door. Miyong quickly reached out for his wrist to pull him back. “Wait. Come sit.” She pulled him into the living room and sat him down on the couch. “I’m making spaghetti, do you want some?” “Miyong…I don’t want to impose.” “You’re not imposing, I’m asking you. Spaghetti, red sauce.” “Is there eggplant?” he asked, scrunching his nose. “You don’t like eggplant?” He shook his head making a disgusted face, almost like a little kis. She couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s not eggplant, it’s safe.” “Then gladly.” He got up and helped her clean some thing and cook the pasta. They found themselves eating It on the couch, the room smelling delicious. The pasta was maybe a little overcooked, but it was good nonetheless. But after a while she thought the silence was getting uncomfortable and they were avoiding the elephant in the room. “Talk to me.” She said. He looked up form his plate, wiping away some sauce from underneath his lip. “What did she tell you?” “I want to hear it from you.” Jongin sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked so different from how he had last monday. His hair was falling down parted in the middle, and his eyes stood more…innocent. As if he had completely changed. She remembered the chill she’d felt when shed seen him in the vest, with the white button underneath. The slope of his back as he nonchalantly walked across the room talking to people. Most of the change was in his face though, like his eyes were less young and his…she couldn’t describe it properly but she saw it. “She wasn’t lying, Angel. I told you about my family, they pay my expenses, and that kind of stuff. I live with them. The group, gang, mafia, what you want to call it, they’re my family.” Some shitty family you have…she thought. “We do a lot of illegal things, I won’t lie about that. We fraud, we con, we deal, we kill.” “You kill?” she said, eyes wide, staring at him. No, not him, not Jongin. There was a shaky breath from him, the quiver of his lip. “If there’s no other option, yes. But I hate it, I’ve only killed 3 times. And it makes me feel disgusted.” He whispered the last bit, like nobody was allowed to hear. “Three times?” “I’m sorry. It’s just that…for family…If I have a choice I won’t do it. But I can’t let a loved on die when I have the option to save them. But I know it’s not good, and this is not the life I wanted. I wanted something simple, after dancing, but that dream broke, and things were shitty for a while and then…this came along. It’s where I’ve been ever since.” She didn’t reply, she thought about it, looked at him. He looked sad, with his shoulders hunched forward, chin tipped down. “I know it’s bad what we do, and that me being a lawyer is illegal. But I just…I want to be normal Miyong.” He said, and she heard his voice crack. “Why didn’t you go home Jongin, to your family, your real family?” He stopped, it’s like he stopped breathing. His eyes staring at her, and she saw tears well up, immediately feeling guilty for asking. “I…don’t want to talk about them. My family now…they…without them I would be much worse of. If it wasn’t for Angel, I don’t know where I’d have been.” She couldn’t stop herself, the words were out before she could stop it. “She’s brainwashing you, Jongin, she seems like an awful manipulative person.” “She’s not, I know she tends to come across as a bitch. But she’s like my older sister, I love her. She took care of me when I had nobody else, and yes she indirectly got me into this place. But she didn’t want me to. There was no other option at that time.” “So you’re not happy with them?” “I’m happy in a way, like. I’m glad to have found friends, to not be alone. I learnt a lot there. But it’s not where I want to stay, it’s something I want to leave behind when I can.” Miyong was quiet her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour. Was she about to be friend or whatever they are with a criminal, someone who killed, who broke the law time and time again. His heart seemed to be in the right place, he was back to his usual self again. Shy, gentle. The image of him holding a gun was sickening. Was it worth it? “Why did you become a lawyer?” “They helped me get in here, if that’s what you’re guessing at. But I’ve always wanted to help people. After dancing. I thought many times while I was dancing, what I wanted to do if it flunked. And I originally wanted to be a police officer, but that was a little tricky. So I settled for lawyer, I turned out to really like it. And if you think this whole thing is disgusting and you don’t want to see me anymore, I understand. I won’t hold it against you.” She wasn’t even sure if he liked her, but something in the way he looked at her now, the way he sat there in the corner of the couch, told her he did. It was like her heart knew, but her mind refused to process it. She liked him, a lot, a lot more than she let on. Was there a use in trying, and could she even live with being with someone like him. She was labelling him, she caught herself. Criminal. And she wondered if it was even right, in a sense. He seemed so adamant about not wanting to be there. Maybe he wasn’t playing. “I…What about all the women at the party. You were flirting, I saw, you never flirted with me. But Angel said you hated it.” She felt something bitter saying the other girls name, but she saw the look on Jongin’s face when he talked about her. He did really care for her. Jongin pursed his lips. “You weren’t supposed to see that, but yeah, I hate it.” “It’s just flirting to what? Why?” “It’ s not just flirting.” “Huh?” He bit his lower lip, teeth sinking into supple flesh. “Sometimes I sleep with them.” She gasped in shock and then furrowed her eyebrows, running a hand through her own hair. “You have sex with random women…for your job?” There was a short nod, a blush, and a look of shame on his face. Then something hardened, and he stated. “It’s just sex, nothing else. It’s not important.” Just sex…just sex…She’d never slept with someone randomly before. Well she’d had a boyfriend who was her first, they’d dated for a year or two, and then a year ago she’d started this thing with another guy. They went way too fast and it ended up ruining everything in the end. “I…I need to think about all this.” She said, looking at him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah of course, take all the time you need. I’ll just go then.” Jongin moved to get up but she stopped him. “I’ll put it clear for you. I like you Jongin, a lot. And I can’t get a read on if you like me too, not properly. I love that you’re shy and gentle and this whole image you’re sketching for me is conflicting. I can’t properly wrap my head around it, like I can’t believe it. I didn’t expect this, not you. And I sense there’s something that got you there, that it wasn’t your choice, and I think you’re not telling me because you’re scared. Or not ready to tell me. You don’t have to tell me, yet at least.  I can see that this wasn’t where you wanted to be, but somehow you did go for it. You continued it, you killed, you use women. I just…I can’t see the clear.” He was silent, studying her features, almost like he was waiting for her to say something more. Or thinking of what to say, not knowing what to say. But he did speak up in the end. “I’m sorry, for bringing this on you, that you have to carry this with you for the rest of your life. It’s not what I wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you , for making you think I was a normal, good man. I’m not I understand, I don’t want you to think that. But…I like you too and I was stupid enough to fall for you and think there was a possibility it could work out.” She cut him off there. “So…you say you’d better just not fallen for someone, ever? Like this will be part of your past for the rest of your life.” “It’s better isn’t it? For most of us. I don’t think I could love someone like the people I work with.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sneezed. She found it so cute, he had his legs pulled up to his chest, leaning his chin on his knees. Like a little kid, but the sorrow in his life made him look much older. She noticed then that he had really suffered, that he was broken. Something in him wasn’t well. He wanted to be normal, he was normal. He wasn’t like Angel, she had that air, the dominance. Jongin just seemed like a scared boy, lost in a world that isn’t his. She took a stab in the dark, deciding to take his soft hand in hers. He looked up at her with a pained expression. “Do you think you could love me?” she asked. “I definitely think I can.” He whispered. Miyong smiled then, and pulled him in for a hug. He was warm, and she felt how rapid his heart was beating. His face buried in her neck, and her hands fisting his sweater. “Please don’t make me regret this.” She said in his shoulder. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head. “I promise.”

***

Soon she found herself driving her and Jongin to the dance studio in the city centre. It wasn’t the same studio where she’d gone when she was younger, but it was from the same group. Just a different location. “Okay, so Minseok is your boss?” “Yeah.” He said. “But he goes by Xiumin too.” “Do you have a code name?” He chuckled. “They’re not as much code names. More like aliases. We use them depending on the situation. In your world, as we say it, the legal world, we go by our real names. Like I do when I’m at the internship. But when we do something underground we go by another. I do have one.” “What is it?” “Kai.” “Kai?” “Kai.” “I like the sound of that.” She decided. “Kim Kai. It’s short and simple. So Angel then, I guess that’s not her real name?” There was a short silence. “It’s not, but most of us tend to call her that, it’s more of a nickname.” She let herself briefly look at him in the passenger seat, he was tracing the lined in the door. “Do you call her that?” “Why are you asking about her, she bothers you doesn’t she?” “I don’t like her.” “She’s really not that bad, once you get to know her, you will see.” Miyong didn’t answer with more than a short snort. “I call her by her real name and by Angel.” “What’s her real name then?” Jongin looked at her, and she looked back. “If she wants you to know her real name she’ll give it to you.” “Her card said Cheonsa.” “Second alias, she’s not part of our group. She works solo, but she helps us out. She’s so to speak a family friend, but it’s why she has way more aliases.” Miyong turned into the parking lot by the studio and parked the car. “We’re running a little late, let’s go.” Jongin followed behind her, she was wearing black tights and a white sweater that hung of one shoulder, underneath a dark blue woollen coat. She didn’t find Jongin’s clothes so helpful for dance classes, but then again, he couldn’t really dance with his leg. They entered the room and she found a few parents with their kids. “MIYONG!!!” Jeonna called running to her and hugging her legs. “Who is the boy?” Suddenly Jongin found himself with 12 sets of little round eyes staring at him. “Is that Miyong’s boyfriend!” “Ah, he’s handsome!” “He looks like prince charming!” all kinds of chants came from the little kids, and he blushed and kind of stepped closer to her. “What did you tell them?” he asked, eyes wide. A girl came up to him, pulling at his sweater, so he bent down. “Hey there.” “Are you going to marry Miyong?” “Ah, Sasha,” Miyong said, “Don’t ask such weird things, you’ll scare him.” Then she kind of stood around and faced the group. “Everyone, this is Jongin, he’s coming along for the class today. He used to dance for the Lee-Young academy.” There were some ah’s and oh’s and Jongin seemed really flustered. By then the moms left to say bye to their children, and Miyong got ready to start the class. It was nice to see Jongin with the kids, especially Sasha took a liking to him, but they all stared at him a lot. When he got out of his shell he was actually really good with them. Showing them the moves he could. His leg might be busted, but his poise was still perfect. So graceful and beautiful to watch. The way his leg stretched perfectly straight, or his back bent in a perfect curve. It was on a level she’d never achieve. And that thinking he hadn’t danced in over 3 years, like it was in his blood. He’d picked up some of the girls for some form of mini lift, they loved it. At their age, between 5 and 8, there wasn’t much actual ballet going on. The movements weren’t to difficult, and they weren’t wearing any real slippers yet. It was just the way he acted with them that made her heart swell. How he smiled widely and played with them, he seemed so happy and peaceful and normal. She loved his smile so much, and to see him sad like he had seemed at her place, it broke her heart. This suited him so much better. And the kind of crazy thought came in her head that he would be such a great and loving dad later in life. It gave her butterflies in her stomach. How she managed to had fallen for a con artist this fast was beyond her, maybe he had tricker her. But right now she was taking a leap of faith, trusting her heart that told her he was good. That his intentions were right, that he didn’t want this. “Miyong!!!” Jeonna came up to her again. “Can you dance with Jongin?” “Huh?” she was dumbfounded. “Yeah aren’t you going to dance?” Sasha said, from Jongin’s arms where he’d picked her up. Daeul was hanging around his neck, legs dangling a little, cheeky little smile on his face. Jongin looked at her, and she blushed, and he blushed. But then he smiled, and put Sasha and Daeul down. The he walked over on bare feet, and bowed. “May I have this dance.” This was the first time he’d make her blush this much, she wasn’t usually a shy person. “Of course.” She muttered and took his hand. He pulled her close, taking the lead as it should be. She was a little worried at first, about his leg. But as long as he seemed okay she wanted to do this. She wanted to. The way his hands rested on her hips, guiding her, or his hand in hers. He spun her around, and even lifted her up a little. Perfect posture again, and she tried her best not to look blank by him. There were butterflies everywhere, sparks where he touched her bare shoulder as he tipped her back in the end. All the kids were cheering and clapping. And then he suddenly pulled her up to his chest, she landed with her hands against him. Their noses almost touching, his breath fanning out over her lips as she looked into his eyes from this close. Colours golden brown running into darker ones around his pupil. “Ew! Don’t kiss!” one of the kids squealed, and then there was a whole lot of screaming about cooties and kissing being disgusting. It was loud, and it made Jongin laugh out loud, a sound that her ears loved more than his smile. His laugh was a little dorky and a lot of loud, but it was so genuine. He stayed by her side, hand on her lower back, warm, as the parents came and picked up their kids again. They found themselves alone in the studio, the large room and wide mirror. She looked at their reflections. Compared to him she looked short and chubby, and not like a dancer at all. He was gorgeous, like a model and she had to look away. “Hey.” He said, tipping up her chin from where she looked down. “Don’t do that. You’re beautiful, and I don’t want you to think otherwise.” “You’re very observant.” She said shyly. He smiled at her, pulling her close, cupping her cheeks. “It comes with the job. But please, don’t look at yourself like that.” He was so close, and his hands were soft and warm and big. She took a hold of his wrists and pulled herself up, connecting her lips to his. She felt him still out of shock, and she wanted to pull away, afraid she crossed the line. However, before she could he put a hand on her lower back to keep her close. His lips moved against hers, as he angled his head slightly. There were as soft as she imagined they’d be, his lips. And she leant up on her tippy toes to wrap and arm around his neck. She parted her lips when he softly swiped his tongue over her bottom lip. He was so gentle, as he kissed her, taking the lead even then. She pushed closer against him, carding a hand through his soft hair, and he groaned softly. The light scrape of his teeth over her bottom lip as she broke the kiss made her toes curl. They were both breathing a little faster, and she felt his heart thump under her hand. Fast like it had before, but not for the same reason. “Jongin?” “Yeah.” He breathed against her lips. “Promise me something else.” “Anything.” She pecked his lips, once. “Promise me that…you won’t keep doing this. That at some point you’ll just become a lawyer, or anything else.” It was something she maybe couldn’t ask of him. But she just didn’t want to date an active criminal, or a criminal at all. For him though, she was ready to make the exception. Still, she didn’t want to jeopardise her own career chances. “If you’ll be my girlfriend.” He whispered shyly, looking at her with a light blush on his cheeks. They sealed the promise with a long, slow kiss, that left them breathless and smiling.

@oh-beyond @xingtrash @chenbootysoo @nunchiwrites @bootyfulohsehun @thawingsnowwolf @littlekatlizzy @xiubaek13 @suholuv @melyyexo @yeollieollie @wheredidmylifego-ohyeahbtsandexo @yixingsbeauty @notmybolo @yourseth @white-in-angel @exosmutxoxo @lolxiuminlol @kpopmafiaaus 

[foreverfamilyforevervongola]

Not Alone

Rating: T Summary: Fran finds himself the target of a bully. Though it would normally take him two seconds to traumatize his harasser, this case is different. The bully happens to be the son of a Mafia family Tsuna is trying to enter a treaty with. He keeps his problem to himself, hiding his injuries. When the Varia find out, they are far from pleased, and Xanxus has to teach his headstrong charge that he’s never alone. Note: Contains bullying

Standing in the boy’s bathroom of Liceo Castelli, Fran hunched over the silver sink, warm water gushing from the tap. Using a wad of soggy paper towels, he scrubbed at his face and bare upper torso, trying to clean off the blood that oozed from fresh wounds.

Lambo stood beside him, holding his dirty and soiled school shirt in his arms. The fifteen-year-old studied him anxiously. “Fran, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” he answered, trying to ignore the pain that erupted in his split upper lip.

“This is the fourth time this month,” said Lambo hesitantly. “You should tell—”

“No.” Fran thrust the blood-stained paper towels into the trash and glanced at his reflection in the streaked mirror. His left eye throbbed and his cut lip had finally stopped bleeding. The scratches on his chest were a dark red and his entire upper body was coated in black, blue and purple bruises. Yet another sound beating from Tommy Caplin.

His friend let out an irritated huff. “Come on, man. If you’re not going to tell anyone, at least beat the guy up. Traumatize him.”

“As much as I would like to give him nightmares for the rest of his life, I’m afraid I’m going to have to show some restraint,” said Fran dryly.

“You’re part of the Varia. The Varia are not known for being able to show restraint.”

“Well, there’s an odd one in every group,” quipped Fran. “Besides, you do remember who Tommy Caplin is, right?”

“Yeah,” admitted Lambo reluctantly. “He’s the kid of the boss of the Caplin Famiglia. Tsuna-nii and the others are trying to work out some sort of treaty with them right now. They stop using street kids as drug runners and the Vongola will offer them their services when they are needed.”

Fran pointed at him. “Exactly. Sawada has been working at this for a long time. I’m not going to screw it up just because that jerk has some beef with me. He’ll get bored eventually. I just can’t react.”

You’ve got that part down pat, Lambo could not help but think. “Fine,” he said. This wasn’t the first time they’d argued about this, and he also knew it wouldn’t be the last. “You gonna be okay?”

“Always am.” Fran rummaged through his backpack and took out a spare school shirt. He shrugged it on slowly, trying not to aggravate his injuries. He took the ruined shirt from Lambo and shoved it at the bottom of his bag. Ever since the first time, when Caplin cornered him near the edge of school properly and pummelled his face in, he decided to carry extra clothes around just in case. Standing up, Fran shrugged his bag over his shoulders. “All right. Let’s go.”

The males left the bathroom and into the hallway, where I-Pin was waiting for them. The trio of teenagers set off towards the front doors. “Any luck?” I-Pin asked her best friend.

Lambo shook his head. “Nope. He’s about as stubborn as the rest of us. Probably even more so.”

“You guys worry too much,” drawled Fran. “I’m handling it. You don’t have to stick around every time I have to clean myself up.”

I-Pin rested a hand lightly on his arm. “Don’t be silly. We promised not to tell anyone. But we’re not going to make you go through this alone.”

Fran nodded, staring straight ahead and trying to ignore the odd feeling that bubbled in his stomach. It was by chance that Lambo and I-Pin found out that he was being bullied by Caplin, stumbling across the fighting pair almost two weeks ago. It had been in the stairwell of Liceo Castelli, since the high school senior didn’t seem brave enough to fight him anywhere other than school property, where he was amongst the top dogs of the student hierarchy. No one dared to mess with him. Though the pair wanted Fran to tell someone, he adamantly refused, and continued to shut down their suggestions every time one of them brought it up.

“I don’t get what his deal is,” grumbled Lambo. “You’ve never done anything to him.”

“Apparently my severe lack of facial expressions and hefty amount of dry wit irritate him,” muttered Fran. “And I don’t think he knows I’m a member of the Varia.”

Lambo and I-Pin exchanged glances. It made sense, since the Varia tended to run on high secrecy and very few in the mafia world knew when they acquired new members. Though Fran had been a member for over five years, he still didn’t have a full active role. He wasn’t in the field very often, and Varia members didn’t interact with other mafia families unless it was to slaughter them.

“He probably wouldn’t believe me if I told him, anyway,” continued Fran, giving a lazy stretch. Not that I blame him.

Before they stepped outside completely, Fran created an illusion over his face to hide the visible injuries. He didn’t need to deal with the heckling if someone back home discovered him in this sorry state. It was just easier to keep everything a secret.

There were two limos waiting on the curb; Ryohei was there to pick up his little siblings and there was a Varia driver to pick up Fran. Saluting his friends, the teal-haired boy jogged down the sidewalk and threw open the door. He slid against the cool leather seats, finally letting out a long breath. His entire body ached and he just wanted to take a shower and rest.

It took twenty minutes to reach Varia Castle, and Fran was already later than normal. Not worrying too much about it, he shuffled up to the large oak front door and gave the handle a crank. He stepped into the spacious foyer and immediately stole for the grand staircase.

“Brat!”

“What?” he hollered, pausing halfway up the staircase and glancing over the banister. “I just got back! Give a guy a second to settle in before you start to get annoying!”

“You’re late!”

“I had stuff to do!”

Squalo appeared in the boy’s line of sight and he glowered upwards. “And I’ve got stuff for you to do, runt.”

“Like what?” asked Fran, his visions of his nice warm bed disappearing from his thoughts.

“Take out the trash.”

“Don’t we have people for that?”

Squalo snorted. “Yeah, right. Get your ass down here and do what I tell you.”

“Whatever.” Rolling his eyes, Fran went back down the stairs and dropped his bag by the front door. He slouched by Squalo, who smacked him across the head, and entered the kitchen. There was already a decent-sized pile of trash bags stacked near the glass doors that led to the backyard.

“Disgusting,” he grumbled. With a soft sigh, he took hold of two black plastic bags bulging with trash and went out the sliding glass door, where he would loop around the castle and set the bags in the dumpster.

Squalo settled down in a stool, resting his elbows against the marble island. He picked up his now lukewarm coffee and took a sip. Fran returned a few minutes later to grab another load of trash before departing again, hardly noticing that he was being watched.

“What are you doing?” asked Levi, entering the kitchen after Fran left for the second trip. He opened the fridge to get a bottle of water before turning to look at the silver-haired man with an expectant expression.

“Watching the runt.”

Levi glanced out the glass, though he could not see the boy in the sprawling grass of their yard. “Uh…am I missing something?”

“He’ll be back. He’s got one more load of trash to do. Watch him.”

Arching an eyebrow. Levi shrugged and leaned against the kitchen island. Fran soon returned, and Levi quickly caught on to the way the teen carried himself. It was with careful movement, and when he bent down to grab the last of the trash bags his lips pressed into a thin line, as if the simple action was painful for him. When he stepped back outside, he dragged the bags against the ground, and even that seemed to be too much effort for him to do.

“I know he’s lazy, but not that lazy,” remarked Levi. “Look at him—he’s walking like an old geezer.”

“So like you?” asked Squalo, finally giving up on his coffee and dumping the contents in the sink.

“Shut up,” snapped the bearded man in annoyance.

“But at least you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Squalo frowned. “Wonder what’s with him.”

Fran returned and closed the sliding glass door firmly behind him. “Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.

Squalo jerked his head towards the doorway. “Get out of here.”

Relieved, Fran hurried from the kitchen. He was going to take some painkillers, stand in a hot shower for a good hour, and then sleep.

…

Dinner rolled around and though Fran wished he could just sleep through it he knew it would not go over well with the others. Grunting, he hauled himself out of his warm covers and shuffled out of his bedroom.

Ouch.

The painkillers were useless. Every bone in his body groaned with agony, and he made sure his mask was in place to hide his facial injuries. While Mammon would sense something, he wouldn’t know what. His young protégé was getting better at keeping his illusions in tight control.

“It’s about damn time,” snapped Xanxus when the sixteen-year-old slouched into the dining room. “What kept you?”

“Sleeping,” he muttered, lowering into his chair.

“Are you not feeling good, Fran-chan?” Lussuria asked sympathetically.

“Just tired, I guess.”

Belphegor tilted his head to the side. “Tired after what? Your hour-long shower?”

“Hey, you’re the one I don’t have to worry about when it comes to racking up the water bill,” voiced Mammon. “You never spend more than ten minutes in there.”

“A guy can’t enjoy himself?” defended Fran. “Geez.”

“Since the beginning of this month, you have long showers once a week,” Belphegor replied. “You also come home late once a week, and that’s when you spend forever in the bathroom. You always go right to sleep afterwards, too.”

Fran stared at the blonde prince, trying to keep his expression neutral. He’d been so concerned with keeping his problem to himself that he didn’t think anyone had noticed anything out of the ordinary. “That’s creepy,” he drawled. “That’s a little too much attention you’re giving me.”

“Well, he’s not off,” said Squalo casually. “When you took out the trash earlier today, it was as if it was a painful task for you to do.”

“Of course it was. That stuff is rank,” Fran dismissed. He stared at the tabletop, making a silent vow to start being extra careful. “Can we eat now?”

Belphegor studied Fran intently for a moment. “A painful task, huh?”

Without warning, he reared his fist back and punched Fran in the arm with all the strength he had. Letting out a yelp of pain, he gripped the pulsating spot on his arm, flinching as the pain rocketed through his limb. Concentration shattered, his illusionary mask fell, revealing his black eye and split upper lip.

“You’re such a jerk,” he rasped, heart sinking. With no reason to keep up the façade, he eased down to the carpeted dining room floor and let out a sharp breath. “That freaking hurt.”

“What the hell?” snapped Belphegor, getting up and moving to kneel by the sixteen-year-old’s side. “I knew something was up, but I didn’t think you got the complete crap kicked out of you.”

Squalo hovered over the boy and used his mechanized sword to cut through the material of his sweater. The fabric slid to the side, revealing Fran’s black-and-blue and scratched upper torso. “Gods, runt,” he muttered, inspecting the injuries that stretched from his stomach to the tops of his arms. “Someone did a number on you.”

“You ever hear of personal space?” Fran asked in irritation. He removed his ruined sweater and added, “You’re paying for that.”

“Did you put anything on those cuts, dear?” fretted Lussuria. “You don’t want them to get infected.”

“No. They’re fine.”

“Luss, get the small trash to the infirmary.”

Fran flicked his gaze over to Xanxus, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m fine.”

“And I don’t care what you think. Infirmary, or I’ll force you there myself.”

“Whatever,” muttered Fran. He let Lussuria help him to his feet and he shuffled after the Sun Varia, arms crossed over his chest.

Great. Now I get to humiliate myself further by telling them who did it, he thought bitterly. So much for keeping this to myself.

They reached the sterilized section of the castle and Fran took a seat on one of the cots. Lussuria used his Sun Flames to heal the worst of the damage and then started rummaged through the cabinets. He removed some bandages, antibiotic cream and a cloth to use to help prevent infection. “You should have said something sooner,” he cooed, using a gloved hand to tilt the boy’s head back a bit. “You didn’t have to hide it.”

Fran didn’t say anything. He sat still and let the resident nurse clean the wound on his lip and the scratches on his torso with the cream. Lussuria put dry bandages over the scratches before soaking the rest. “This will ease the pain.”

The teal-haired boy felt relief the second the cool material touched his bruised flesh. Both of his arms were wrapped up with the soaked bandages, since his torso was already covered with wrappings to prevent infection to his scrapes. Satisfied with his work, Lussuria soaked the cloth in the sink at the back of the room and gave it to Fran. He held it against his black eye, muttering, “Thanks.”

“Of course, dear. Does anything else hurt?”

“No,” Fran said honestly. “I’m good.”

“Hey, Luss,” Mammon’s voice said, before the man himself appeared in a cloud of Mist waves. “How’s the squirt?”

“Right here, and I’m fine,” said Fran in annoyance.

“Hmmm.” Mammon crossed his arms. “You hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Thought so.” He glanced at Lussuria. “I’ll watch the runt. Xanxus wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t need to be watched.”

“All right, Mammon-chan,” said Lussuria, ignoring the boy completely. “Make sure he rests.”

“I will.”

The Sun Varia departed, leaving the two illusionists together. With a scowl, Fran slouched against the pillows, pulling his frog hood lower over his eyes. “You are all making a big deal out of nothing.”

“‘Nothing’ is you coming home with a cut or a bruise. This—” he gestured at Fran’s battered form, “—Is not nothing.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you people come home with,” retorted Fran. “Bel-senpai got a bullet in the stomach two weeks ago. This is not life threatening.”

Mammon shook his head. “Maybe not, but it’s still serious. This isn’t the first time, is it?”

“No,” he muttered, adjusting the cloth that sat over his injured eye.

“How exactly have you been handling the pain?”

Ah, damn it all.

The top rule of his illusionist training, one that both Master and Mammon had stressed the importance of, was that illusionists could not take any substance that affected the mind. Each dose contained the risk of weakening the illusionist’s powers, and it was a risk Fran was never allowed to take.

“Painkillers,” he admitted.

The hand struck across his face before he was prepared for it. Wincing, Fran gingerly rubbed at the new bruise. I deserved that one. “Only twice,” he felt the need to defend.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t whoop your ass,” growled Mammon.

“I don’t have one. I’m sorry.”

The apology was sincere, and the teen looked so tired and spent that Mammon felt his anger drain as quickly as it had flared. Fran must have been in tremendous pain to feel compelled to sneak the pills, and it was clear he’d been going through a rough time.

“I’ll run you into the ground once you recover from these injuries. If you ever do it again, I won’t be as merciful. You better believe I’m telling Rokudo.”

Guess I’m getting a trident to the head in the near future.

Fran sensed the presence of the rest of the Varia approached the infirmary. Not at all looking forward to the inevitable conversation, dread built in his stomach as familiar footsteps came closer to his cot. Xanxus stood over his charge, his blood boiling at the number of bandages that snaked up the boy’s torso and arms. “Small trash.”

“Yeah?”

“Who did this?”

“Nobody—”

Locking his arms on either side of Fran’s head, Xanxus leaned close, so that they were almost nose to nose. “Don’t make me ask again,” he said softly.

“Tommy Caplin,” said Fran reluctantly.

Xanxus straightened, crimson eyes narrowing. “Caplin?”

“They’re the bastards who use street kids to do their drug runs,” informed Squalo. “Sawada has been trying to establish some sort of deal with them to keep the kids safe from their greasy hands.”

“Thomas Caplin Jr. is the name of Thomas Caplin Sr.’s son,” piped up Levi. “But I thought Fran and Sawada’s brats were the only mafia kids who went to public school.”

Fran shrugged when the attention turned back to him. “He’s only been there for about a month. Guess he wanted to give public school a shot or something. I don’t know.”

“And how many times has he beat the crap out of you?” Belphegor asked casually.

“Uh…four?” Fran rubbed the side of his neck. “Pretty much once a week since he started at Castelli.”

Xanxus narrowed his eyes. “You just took it?”

“No, I did not just take it,” snapped Fran with a glare. “I defended myself.”

“With…?” prompted Mammon.

“My fists. I’m not supposed to use my illusions in public, remember?”

“Don’t get smart. You know this rule has exceptions.”

“Look, I know the kid is part of the Caplin Famiglia. He may not know I’m part of the Varia, but if he finds out I don’t want him to have any reason to tell his father to pull out of the agreement.” Fran swung his legs over the edge of the cot. “I’m fine, I got it covered—”

Xanxus set a restraining hand on the boy’s chest. “I don’t know how many damn years you have to be here for it to finally be drilled into your thick trash skull. You. Are. Not. Alone.” He jabbed the teen in the chest with each word. “You don’t have to deal crap alone, and you sure as hell don’t have to deal with some scum pushing you around just so Sawada can have his little treaty. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Fran softly.

Xanxus nodded stiffly. “Good. Levi, Belphegor, bring him over to Sawada’s. He’ll want to know about this new development.”

“Of course, Boss. Come on, kid.”

Fran stepped to the floor and shuffled after the pair. Squalo glanced at their leader. “What are you gonna do?”

“Call up Caplin’s ass and threaten to beat him within an inch of his life if his spawn touches my kid again,” said Xanxus darkly before storming out of the infirmary.

Mammon smirked as Lussuria laughed. “We won’t need deals or agreements after tonight. Caplin will be bending to our will after Xan-chan and Tsu-chan are through with him.”

…

Seated in the back of Levi’s car, Belphegor grew tired of Fran’s moody silence. He poked the teen’s hood. “I got a question for you, Froggy.”

Fran glanced over at him. “What?”

“How come you went to so much trouble to hide this?”

“I dunno. Guess I figured everyone would just tell me to deal with it myself. So I did.”

“Tch.” Belphegor flicked Fran’s forehead. “Don’t be stupid. We’re not the Varia because we do crap by ourselves. We’re the Varia because we do crap together.”

“Yeah. I guess, for once in your life, you might have a point.” Fran smirked.

“Shut up before I add a new injury to your collection.”

“We’re here, brats,” spoke Levi. Their vehicle rolled up to the mansion and the man shifted the gear to park before taking out the keys. “You need us with you, runt?”

“I’m good.”

“Then I’m gonna go raid the kitchen.” Belphegor charged up to the front door and barged inside. Levi rolled his eyes and followed after the prince. Scratching at the edge of the bandages wrapped around his left arm, Fran took a breath and entered the estate.

“Yo,” he called out.

“Kufufufufu.”

Mukuro appeared in a cloud of shimmering Mist waves. The easy smile immediately slid from his face when he caught the pitiful sight of his student. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Got into a fight. I’m here to speak to Sawada about it.”

“He’s in a meeting right now, but I’ll—”

“It’s fine,” interrupted Fran. “I can wait. What are you doing slacking off when there’s a meeting?”

Mukuro arched an eyebrow. “Chrome is there in my place, insolent brat.”

“Poor Chrome.”

“Always a smartass.”

“It’s my best quality.” Fran pursed his lips. “And since Mammon is gonna snitch, I might as well tell you before he does.”

Mukuro’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed. “What’d you do?”

“I’ve, uh, had a rough time this month. I was in a lot of pain, and I couldn’t really deal, so I took some painkillers.” Fran didn’t flinch when Mukuro’s trident speared through the fabric of his hood, missing his skull by an inch. “Yeah, expected as much.”

“You must have been desperate to disobey the rule you know Mammon and I to hold sacred,” said Mukuro. He studied the bandages with a sharp frown. “You said you had a rough month. What—?”

“Fran!”

Mukuro was cut off by Lambo’s anxious call. He turned to see Lambo and I-Pin hurrying into the foyer, sliding to a halt near them. “Everything okay?” I-Pin asked hopefully.

“You won,” drawled Fran, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“About time,” breathed Lambo in relief.

“Explanation,” ordered Mukuro. “Now.”

“Tommy Caplin’s been bullying Fran since he transferred to Castelli a month ago,” said Lambo hotly.

Mukuro’s eyes darkened with anger. “Tommy Caplin—as in the heir to the Caplin Famiglia.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, well. That definitely changes some things. Let’s go.”

“But the meeting—” started Fran.

“Screw the meeting. You’re a priority.”

The group headed for Tsuna’s office. Mukuro rapped on the door, and a second later Tsuna called, “Come in.”

When the four entered, it was to see the Decimo and the rest of his Guardians packing papers into file folders. When their eyes fell upon the Varia’s junior illusionist, they froze. “Fran!” gasped Chrome, rushing to the teen’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Fran, wriggling away from her fussing fingers. He stared down at the bandages snaking up his arms and turned to his friends. “Do I really look that bad?”

“You look like a mummy,” said Lambo apologetically. “And your face is kinda messed up.”

Tsuna moved around his desk to approach Fran. Lightly framing his face with his hands, Tsuna asked anxiously, “What happened?”

“I got beat up.” Fran hesitated for a second, but a firm nudge to his back by Mukuro prompted him to continue. “By Tommy Caplin.”

“Caplin?” Ryohei frowned. “Isn’t he the one we’re supposed to have an EXTREME treaty with?”

“It’s Don Caplin’s kid,” said Gokudera, eyes narrowing into slits. “What’s he doing pummelling you?”

“I don’t know.” Fran shrugged. “He transferred to Castelli a month ago. I guess he doesn’t like me.”

“He’s a real jerk!” insisted Lambo. “Fran didn’t do anything to start it. Tommy likes to think he can do whatever he wants just because of who his father is.”

“You knew about this, then?” Hibari asked, crossing his arms.

“For about two weeks,” admitted I-Pin.

“I made them promise not to say anything,” put in Fran. “So if you’re gonna flip out, flip out on me.”

Yamamoto smiled darkly. “If we’re going to flip out on anyone, it’s going to be Tommy Caplin.”

“What I don’t get is how someone can be so stupid as to target a Varia illusionist,” said Gokudera.

“If I’m going to be honest here, he doesn’t know of my connections to the Vongola.”

Tsuna furrowed his brow. “You didn’t tell him?”

“No.”

“How come? You obviously knew who he was.”

“He wouldn’t believe me,” muttered Fran. “He’d probably laugh in my face.”

“That’s when you give him nightmares for the rest of his life.” Mukuro lightly tugged on the ends of Fran’s teal hair. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“I know. I wanted to.” Fran rubbed the back of his neck. “But I didn’t.”

“It was because of the treaty, wasn’t it?”

Fran looked into Tsuna’s soft, knowing expression and nodded. “You really wanted to work something out to keep those street kids safe. You spent forever negotiating with the Caplin Famiglia. I didn’t want to give them any reason to pull out.”

Tsuna set his hands on Fran’s shoulders, keeping his grip gentle but firm. “I might have invested a lot of time into this, but it doesn’t matter if one their members is harassing you. Even if Tommy Caplin didn’t know who you were, I don’t tolerate bullying. You don’t have to suffer so I can get what I want.” He tapped the teen’s nose lightly. “Family doesn’t work like that.”

“So next time I see him, I can scar him for life?”

The brunette grinned. “Absolutely. And I’ll have a little talk with his father. I’m sure I can convince him to set Tommy straight.”

“Thanks.”

Tsuna ruffled his teal strands. “Anytime. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” said Fran, warmth swelling in his chest. “A lot better now, actually.”

“We’re gonna eat dinner soon,” said Lambo. “Wanna stay?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “But Bel-senpai is in your kitchen. You might not have much food left.”

They all trickled out of Tsuna’s office, and Chrome gave Fran a hug before he set off down the corridor with Lambo and I-Pin. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Fran muttered, “Thanks. For helping me out when I was being stubborn.”

I-Pin nudged him playfully. “Of course. We’re friends. We’ll always be there to help you out, even if you insist you don’t need it.”

“Because we’re also stubborn,” added Lambo.

Fran looked down at the floor with a slight smile. For the first seven years of his life, he had been alone, living in isolation with a grandmother who barely acknowledged his existence, her senility sometimes too much to bear.

But things were drastically different, and had been for years. He had people who cared about him. He wasn’t alone.

It was about time he learned that.

…

Three Days Later

...

“You see anything?” hissed Belphegor, jostling Xanxus in his attempt to peer further out the windshield.

Scowling, the man jabbed the prince in the side. “Shut up before I knock out your teeth,” he snarled. “I’ll make you walk home, I swear.”

Huffing, the blonde settled and continued staring through the glass. Liceo Castelli loomed before them, and students were crossing the rolling lawns towards idling vehicles and buses.

Soon the person they were waiting for came into view, his frog hood making him stand out from the rest of the uniformed students. Fran caught sight of the familiar limo and started towards it.

A tall, stocky, blonde boy suddenly stepped in front of the sixteen-year-old, his pudgy face a dull red. He snagged the front of Fran’s school shirt and leaned close to his face.

“Filth doesn’t know when to quit,” growled Xanxus. “Must be as stupid as the rest of the Caplins.”

Belphegor smirked. “I bet Caplin is gonna be squealing like a pig real soon.”

The teal-haired teen’s eyes glowed purple for a brief moment before returning to normal. Tommy let go of his shirt and stumbled back, his eyes growing wide and panicked. A shrill scream escaped him as horrific images played through his mind like a movie, out of his control. He fell to the ground and jerked about wildly, his hands covering his face.

Fran stepped nimbly over his thrashing body and strode for the limo without a backwards glance. He threw open the back door and climbed across the back seat. “Yo,” he said when he realized Xanxus and Belphegor were in front. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” said Belphegor, looking over his shoulder with a wide grin. “Just making sure you handed that punk his ass on a silver platter.”

“Not bad, small trash,” said Xanxus, shifting the gear into ‘drive’. “Not bad.”

Fran’s horrible mental projections and the phone calls from both Xanxus and Tsuna were more than enough for Don Caplin to take Tommy out of Liceo Castelli, with the promise to do whatever Tsuna wanted, so long as his son was spared punishment.

Fran was cool with the arrangement—he got to traumatize Tommy and Tsuna got to save the street kids in Caplin’s territory. It was, as far as he was concerned, the perfect deal.

[chantalkrcmar]

Corruption, Dysfunction and the Social Contract

Here’s a rambling reflection on corruption, dysfunction and lack of social contract. Yes, I know it needs a lot more development and editing, but I have to spend more time on my dissertation now… :-)

I have been pondering what it means to live in a country where there is almost no social contract, where corruption is a part of daily life, where dysfunction can become debilitating. Living in India gives me a window into such darker sides of life. My family’s current quarantine and house arrest fiasco is a painful illustration. I know the US is very high in dysfunction in many states, but when I am in the US, I don’t live in one of those states. I live in Massachusetts, a functional state with a functional government with shared public goods and a shared common purpose and a general disdain for corruption. Is Massachusetts perfect? No. But is Massachusetts way better than, say, Mumbai? Hell yeah.

Take an innocuous example: playgrounds. They are ubiquitous in Somerville. I knew how lucky we were when we were living in Somerville that we had our pick of so many clean, well-maintained, open playgrounds. I could ask Anamika if she wanted to go to the one with the splash pad, or the sand pit, or the water features, or the one closest to our home, or… How spoiled were we? In Mumbai, even under the best of circumstances, it’s hard to do playground time. There are not many to begin with; the vast majority are closed for the vast majority of the day, and some are just too unsanitary to use. (We are ok with a high level of filth, but I have not been willing to, say, go back to the one where there smack-dab in the middle of the playground was a dead rotting rat for the kids to run around.) Does a lack of playgrounds make for a life and death situation? No. Does it affect quality of life? Yes. Ask any parent of a young child. So rich people pay to go to play spaces, or live in luxury high-rises that have their own playgrounds. Heck, we’re not rich but Anamika’s school had its own playgrounds, too. Lower middle class and poor people here just don’t have much access to playgrounds.

What do public playgrounds have to do with other more serious issues? A lot. If a country does not value or respect public goods, the commons, a social contract, whatever you want to call it, (as evidenced by lack of playgrounds), then it makes dealing with huge social problems, like a pandemic in this case, almost impossible. Effectively fighting COVID-19 needs public buy-in, something that is hard to come by in a country like India (or a country like Texas, for that matter :-) ).  Public playgrounds are not a life and death matter. But public health crises are, and the dysfunction, corruption and lack of social contract during this COVID crisis is a killer (literal and figurative).

If I am truly COVID positive, then it’s likely because the COVID case numbers are so high in Mumbai (even higher than recorded, and the recorded number is high) that it’s almost impossible not to get it. Experts estimate that possibly up to 80% of Mumbaikers are running around asymptomatic. Even with keeping expeditions outside of our apartment to a minimum, the odds are against us. There is this fascinating theory, by the way, about why Indian COVID fatalities are lower, and asymptomatic numbers are higher, than the case numbers would normally be in other countries. People do die here from COVID; people do get very sick and require hospitalization. But it’s not the blood bath that it could be. And young demographics is not the only reason. The theory is there is a high rate of cross-reactivity amongst Indians, meaning that there are so many other viruses that people are exposed to here that it kind of cancels out the worst impacts of COVID.

I digress…

Not a single Indian I have spoken to since I got my initial positive result — not a single one — thinks this is accurate. They all either question accuracy of tests here in India, or question the possibility of corruption at some level, or both. They also think the way the BMC is handling this case is preposterous. When I messaged my Indian friends that my retest came back negative, they were not at all surprised. Indeed, like the rest of us, they were shocked when my first test came back positive. What many of them have told me will forever be seared in my brain: that rumors are out that folks get paid for positive test results. So they are convinced that I’ve been caught up in some corrupt game. Who gets paid? Who does the paying? Why exactly would they pay for positive results (other than to keep employment for those whose job it is to do tests, sanitize in red zones, etc)?

But none of that is the point. The point is that Indians do not trust their government (state or central) or any other powerful entities. Not one iota. Nor do they trust each other. Not one iota. And this is just one of many dramatic examples. So if Indians are being careless about this pandemic, it’s likely because they think the government and other powers-that-be have been lying to us…about how to prevent it, about how many cases there are, about how many fatalities there are, about how effectively they can manage it.

(Keralites are the major exception. They tend to trust their state government — though not the central government. But Kerala does not feel like or operate like most of the rest of India, so we’ll keep them out of the equation for now.)

It’s not reality that motivates people’s behavior; it’s people’s perceptions of reality (largely shaped by friends, family, media, what have you) that makes them behave the way they do. In Sociology it’s called “Thomas Theorem” which in short is that “if men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (Thomas and Thomas, The child in America, Knopf, Oxford, 1928, p. 572). We discussed it in the Intro Sociology classes I used to teach.

It’s remarkable, really. For a country that is known for being so much more community-oriented, and less individualistic, than the US, there really is no social contract, public goods, trust beyond the family unit. I think it comes down to this: people in India are known for being less individualistic because the norms are such that family duty and relationships are the biggest priority. Not one’s individual pursuits. Witness the number of multi-generational families that live together here (ours included), or the pressures to “keep the family together” even if there is domestic violence and other awful stuff. When it comes to family, many Indians do operate as if they are mafia members. Looking out for one another, taking bullets for one another, being obligated to one another.

But that’s where it ends. There is no sense of duty or obligation or even connection to the commons. I chalk this up to the utter lack of trust here, which I chalk up to the utter lack of care and downright abuse by the colonizing government, and since then many Indian governments and other powerful authorities. It really is the Wild West here. You are on your own. As a result, so many folks here are on the make. Why not do corrupt, unethical things if you don’t care about others, and all you want to do is take care of your own family? And why not —especially if you are convinced everyone else, government included, is out to screw you? Why not make an extra buck by reporting a negative COVID test as positive?

This plays out in so many various ways. But I’ll start with one: Further dividing the haves and the have-nots. Wealthy people build their own private fiefdoms so they do not need anything from the commons anyway. They have their own doctors, hospitals, schools, outdoor spaces, play spaces, transportation (including personal jets), staff for everything you could imagine…and the not-so-wealthy just cobble together what they can. It is similar in the US, but it’s just much more amplified here. The inequities here are more staggering, the poverty so much more rampant, and the population size is just so damn enormous. I have seen this dynamic in the poorest of slums and the wealthiest of locales in Mumbai. I have had the privilege of being in the harshest of neighborhoods here, as well as some of the most luxurious of high-rises. I truly have seen it all.

And how does this play out in the pandemic? Well, I see it in the lack of face mask wearing. It’s not a political statement here as it is in the US. As in, it’s not that people choose to mask up or not depending on which political party they support. But many people here don’t wear face masks because some of them are too lazy but some of them, I am now convinced, think it’s all hogwash. Lots and lots and lots of closet conspiracy theorists here, as well as folks who trust their priest, guru, whomever, more than the government (any government). And sometimes, by the way, those priests tell people to do wacky things like drink cow’s urine as a prevention against COVID.

My first COVID test was positive and it’s inexplicable. It may have been an honest error in the diagnostics, or I may have been positive but just barely over the threshold which means not contagious. But when Indians think test results are tainted by a racket of people trying to make a buck (and, yes, there actually have been some news reports — accurate or not — about this), we have a huge problem on our hands. People are less likely to get tested since they won’t trust the results. They are less likely to take precautions even if having symptoms since they don’t trust the public health messages here (not that there have been many — India is an Information Desert). It also does not help at all that COVID stigma is so real here. The Sign of Shame the Bombay Municipal Corporation (BMC) hung outside our apartment is a perfect example. I know that whenever our apartment is unsealed, and we can at least go down into the parking lot, neighbors will steer clear. The security guards will too. And I don’t mean just the six feet of social distancing that this pandemic requires. I have been marked as a carrier of the plague. And that’s the end of the story.

So why would anyone want to put themselves through this if they have the choice? I am convinced that there are tons of folks running around with symptoms but who refuse to get tested. I will leave Mumbai at least for some time when this mess is behind us so it does not matter to me how my neighbors here treat me. But if one has to stay here and is treated like a pariah after the BMC is done with its public shaming campaign, I can understand the reluctance.

And now we can see what this has to do with poor laborers’ decisions during lockdown. Journalists who were doing in-depth investigative reporting were showing that daily wage earners had completely lost any faith that they had (which was little to begin with) in the government, so they were taking their lives into their own hands. When the central government issued the world’s harshest lockdown, and then promised an entire month later (ooops. forgot about those millions of folks!) to take care of the poor migrant laborers literally starving through lockdown, no one believed them. So they took to the highways to make their ways back to the only entities they could trust: their families. Whether or not the government would actually start caring for its citizens (and it hasn’t; the policy failures in general here, and now during COVID, are mind-boggling) was beside the point. No one trusted they would. Thomas Theorem in action.

And when the government issues any new safety laws (workplace safety, road safety, you name it), I now see why many people greet them with suspicion. Why wear helmets on your motorcycle when the government tells you it’s compulsory if you think the government is full of compulsive liars? I know lots of construction companies (in particular smaller ones) do not offer safety gear to the laborers they employ. But of the companies that do have safety gear, I now wonder how many workers don’t wear it due to lack of trust in the company or the government? That is not me blaming the victim at all. It is me saying that it seems perfectly reasonable for this lack of trust in authority. I fully lay the blame for that on the doorstep of first the Brits and now the Indians who govern this lawless land: governments, corporations, the biggies.

I actually started teasing some of this out in a book chapter I just wrote for an edited volume on Work, Employment and COVID-19 in the Global South. The construction workers I spoke to before lockdown expressed that they are totally self-sufficient (albeit mostly struggling to pay for even basics like food and shelter) and get no support whatsoever from authorities. Here’s a brief excerpt of my chapter…

With just a couple exceptions, the women construction workers told me they had vurtually no support — from their employers or from the government. They relied on self-sufficiency and self-reliance to get through financial, medical and other struggles. One of the women with whom I spoke at the basti (slum) near Nerul Naka encapsulated what most every construct worker I spoke with expressed about lack of support, in particular governmental. She said, “There’s never been any external support for any sort of health or children’s education or family wellbeing. Whatever we need, the onus is on us. Again at times you get work and at times you don’t; only when you work hard and you get it [work] it’s as simple as that.” And when I asked a group of a half dozen Naka Leaders at Nerul Naka (all men), “Is there any governmental social support?” without hesitation and emphatically, they answered, “No.” (Naka Leaders are construction workers groomed by a local NGO to help raise awareness about rights and entitlements amongst workers.)

Possible corruption aside, the bureaucratic nightmare we are now in is another real deterrent to  folks participating (or not, as in this case) in the community fight against COVID here. The BMC has given us so many unclear directives. As in all things Indian, you talk to five different bureaucrats and get five different stories. I am also beginning to see how this bureaucratic quagmire here contributes to corruption. It is so dysfunctional that everyone is always trying to find ways around the authorities. In this case, one of my Indian friends asked me if her husband who is well-connected in Mumbai should ask around to see if we can get our apartment un-sealed. She means well, and it truly is how most stuff gets done here. But it becomes a vicious circle. Dysfunction leads to corruption leads to dysfunction leads to corruption. And this is a relatively minor case. But this is how people buy off the cops to not face consequences after they commit murder or to flagrantly avoid fire codes when building new housing or…you get the picture. In case you’re wondering, I politely declined her offer. My conscience won’t allow me to play the game.

As you might guess, there seems to be a class element to all of this. We live in a middle class compound (meaning not a rich luxury high-rise), and we got the Sign of Shame. Friends of ours had a COVID case in their much more upper-crust apartment building, and there were no signs hung anywhere. Also, if one does not have gobs of money (and dubious moral principles), then there is no way to fully avoid the dysfunction of a dysfunctional country. Sure, the dysfunction of the postal system here is kinda comical (as you faithful blog readers can remember from way back in the fall). But the dysfunction of the public health system is not at all comical. Rich people buy everybody off if/when they have to (i.e. ooops. I ran over and killed that homeless person. No worries. I’ll just pay off the cops, lawyers, judges, witnesses, etc.) and the rest of us are left scratching our heads in disbelief/disgust/envy/what-have-you.

Speaking of ethics, I will say that it is also interesting to think about what “ethical behavior” even means in such a context. My friend’s offer to ask her husband to lean on someone at the BMC on my behalf: was her offer of a little help on the side unethical? She truly meant well. And she is truly convinced that my COVID case is a case of corruption (someone getting paid off for my positive result). She’s a dyed-in-the-wool Mumbaiker, born and raised here. So maybe she does know better than I do. When everyone around you is acting in questionable ways — or your perception is that they are — it’s easy to think that you also must. And then where does the line of ethical behavior get drawn? My family and I do not use money as a currency for getting what we want if we’re not getting what we want. But we will use our connections to get information. Not unethical, for sure. But it is a privilege to even have connections. This nightmare would be even more of a nightmare if we did not have doctors here and in the US we could call upon for expert advice. Also, one of Rahul’s former student’s sister works for the BMC. While she’s not pulling strings for us, she is trying to get us as much correct information as she can. Getting the right info about anything, by the way, in India is a full time job. Does our apartment get un-sealed in ten days or fourteen days? Depends on which bureaucrat you ask, what mood they are in, whether or not they are busy taking chai…

As for not pulling strings for us: One of the reasons I have not gone to a quarantine “hotel” here in Mumbai is because I would have had to share a room with another quarantine patient. It’s crazy. I may not even have COVID, and going to this hotel probably would have given it to me. See: our connections only go so far. Rahuls’ student’s sister could not get me a private quarantine room (not that we asked her to). It would be much easier on Rahul if I could have gone away for my quarantine. The poor guy is running ragged trying to keep all my dishes completely separate and clean, and delivering all my meals, and sanitizing surfaces, and…all while trying to keep Anamika and himself sane in their own separate quarantine.

And it seems fitting to end my stream of consciousness about corruption, dysfunction, social contracts and public goods on that note. Like our home, India needs constant, diligent, and thorough, sanitizing!

[astridspokemonfic]

Episode 8: Spheal the Deal!

Narrator: After their brush with Team SubZero, our heroes have recovered from the harrowing ordeal only to come to an abrupt realization.

“I never got to actually go inside the aquarium!” Astrid shrieked. Considering it was 10 in the morning, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant sound. The twins gave her the most annoyed look they were capable of. (Especially considering that they woke up late.) Janine thankfully, was spared from the sound since she was inside taking a video call.

“You didn’t realize?” Kaytlyn raised an eyebrow.

“No I didn’t!” She scowled.”I was caught up in that poacher stuff!”

“You tend to not notice a lot of things.” Kayla muttered. “There was the Double Contest thing last week… and now with the aquarium.”

“Shut up!” the teen huffed, “Why don’t you ever tease Janine about anything?”

Kayla thought for a moment before turning to her sister. “Should I?”

“Janine never really does anything tease-worthy-”

“Yes she does!” Astrid interjected. “First of all she’s a total weeb.”

“True.”

“She has scoliosis.”

“Also true.”

“She’s an emo.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s-“

“I’m what?”

Astrid let out a shriek, unaware that Janine had somehow snuck up on her. The trainer gave her an unimpressed look before continuing.

“I got a call from Adrian. He’s gonna be here in a few minutes and he wanted to make sure that we were still here so we could finally battle.” Janine explained.

“You do know that Adrian has a type advantage on you right?” Kayla pointed out. Janine shrugged.

“I’ll just do the same thing I did with Romeo back at the gym.”

“Uh, but what if Mudkip evolved?”

“What?”

Kayla gave her a concerned look before Astrid cut in, “Mudkip evolves into Marshtomp, complete with a Water/Ground-Typing. Fire has a quarter of its usual effectiveness, and Electric does absolutely nothing.”

“Well… that’s a problem.” The trainer stated, dumbfounded.

“Yeah. On the other hand it becomes double weak to Grass-Types.” Astrid said smugly, offering Kayla a hi-five since they both chose grass-type starters.

“Well. Time to spam Double-Kick.”

“You can’t just do that!” Kayla pointed out.

“Yes I can.”

“That’s the most basic and unoriginal strategy I’ve ever heard.”

“Bet. I’ll beat him.”

“I hate you.”

~*~*~*~*~

After a few minutes of waiting, Adrian and his friends had shown up at the entrance of the Pokemon Center. The group caught their attention with a series of shouts and joking cat-calls. (At least on Astrid’s end)

“Please shut up. You’re all so embarrassing.” Adrian pleaded, glancing around to other bystanders.

“You love us.” Astrid crowed, meaning to embarrass him further. She narrowly dodged an incoming slap and moved over to hug Sheyla and Andrea.

“How was Route 3?” Janine motioned to his ragged appearance.

“Other than the ungodly amount of Mightyena and Poochyena everywhere, it was great! I caught two Pokemon!”

“Woah! Two?” Kayla asked curiously. At Adrian’s nod, the teen beckoned Astrid over, hoping she would lend the Pokedex to her for a few minutes. Wordlessly, Adrian reached to two more Pokeballs hanging at his hip (Wow, how did they not notice those?). Each Pokemon popped out with their own unique cries.

“An Aron and Ralts?”

Astrid handed her Pokedex to Kayla and knelt down to poke at the Psychic-Type.

“Ralts, the Feeling Pokemon. Ralts senses the emotions of people using the horns on its head. This Pokémon rarely appears before people. But when it does, it draws closer if it senses that the person has a positive disposition.”

Kaytlyn snorted. “Well that makes absolutely no sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Adrian, you are one of the most aggressive people I’ve ever met. Second to a rampaging Tauros.” She snickered. Adrian gave her a hard look before sighing.

“True.”

“Is there a particular story behind this?” Janine asked, remembering her Mareep.

“Not with Ralts. He just threw the Pokeball as soon as he beat him. Pretty standard.” Andrea shrugged, “But Aron? There’s a story behind that one.”

“Ralts is a he?” Kayla gave Ralts a onceover, not understanding how such a feminine Pokemon could possibly be male. “Remind me to introduce you to Astrid’s Vulpix.” she muttered.

“Sh! I want to hear the Aron story!” Kaytlyn threw leaves at her sister, acting over dramatic. Kayla gave her a wounded look and simply scanned Aron in response.

“Aron, the Iron-Armor Pokemon. This Pokémon has a body of steel. To make its body, Aron feeds on iron ore that it digs from mountains. Occasionally, it causes major trouble by eating bridges and rails.”

“Okay, so basically.” Sheyla began, “Adrian had already caught Ralts like the day before, and he was training up her Magical Leaf attack. And then out of nowhere the Aron comes out.

“Adrian’s like ‘Oh this is going to be great training experience!’ and he sends Ralts to battle. Andrea and I just sorta… move away because this is probably the eighth time he’s done this in the past hour or so. He’s insane.”

“I was training my Pokemon!”

“You couldn’t have waited until we got to a Pokemon Center? You’re the reason it took 3 days to get here! Whatever.” Sheyla waved him away and the boy sat down, no longer able to tell his own story, “Anyway. We were just talking about how stupid Adrian is, and then he starts screeching. Out of nowhere.”

“It was concerning.” Andrea added, giving the gay a disgusted look. Adrian narrowed his eyes in response.

“Mhm. Well. We go over and we’re like,

‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is Ralts hurt?’ But no. Instead he starts yelling at us to give him his bag, and he won’t answer when we ask what’s going on. So we just fling his bag over and he’s all panicky, and he doesn’t even look and he throws a Pokeball at Aron. But it doesn’t work. Obviously. And Aron escapes and starts to run.”

“Yes, of course, I’d run too.” Astrid nods, unhelpfully. Janine scoffs.

“And instead of battling it again, like a logical human being, Adrian throws another Pokeball. Which doesn’t work. And he continues this maybe 4 more times before finally throwing a Great Ball.”

“Why on Arceus’s green Earth would you do that?” Janine turned to the boy in question.

“Aron has a Secret Ability!” Adrian said, showing them his Pokedex.

“Secret Ability?”

“You know how Pokemon have abilities?” Sheyla began. Janine nodded.

“Arroz has Static as her ability.”

“Arroz? Who the- Actually, nevermind. Anyway, Secret Abilities are just really rare abilities that a certain Pokemon species may have. For Aron species in particular, their secret ability is Heavy Metal, meaning they become heavier in battle. Most Pokemon have Hidden abilities that make it so that they have a better advantage in battle.”

“I heard about Hidden Abilities before in school, but I didn’t think we’d actually meet a Pokemon with one!” Astrid said in wonderment. Kayla had a similar look as they inspected Aron thoroughly.

“I wonder if any of our Pokemon have a Secret Ability.” Kaytlyn thought out loud.

“I wouldn’t even know the difference.” Janine admitted. She turned her attention back to Adrian, “So about that battle…” Adrian nodded in excitement and was about to set the terms before Astrid interrupted.

“Woah, woah, woah! I’d just like to remind you that I haven’t gone to the Aquarium yet!”

“Literally no one cares.” Adrian gave her a harrowing look. Astrid glared right back.

“You can wait. I’ve wanted to go to the Aquarium since the first day we got to this sandy purgatory! Listen. You two can battle after we visit the aquarium.” She turned to Kayla and Andrea and began to drag them along, “Before something ridiculous happens and Team SubZero decides to blow up a daycare or something.” Sheyla watched the coordinator drag her friends along before a thought struck her.

“Who’s Team SubZero?” Janine took a double-take.

“You haven’t encountered them yet?”

“It doesn’t really matter, they’re just a bunch of Pokemon stealing weirdos in parkas.” Kaytlyn said dismissively.

Adrian nodded sagely. “Like Team Rocket.”

They have him a look.“Who’s Team Rocket?”

“This group back in the 90s that- actually nevermind it doesn’t matter. Just follow them before they get themselves run over.”

~*~*~*~*~

Turns out saving Pokemon from being kidnapped comes with its perks. When they started to pay for their tickets, the lady at the ticket booth had told them ‘It was already taken care of’ and told them to pass right through.

Andrea eyed the ticket booth in suspicion.“Did you somehow join the mafia in the time we’ve been gone?”

“More like stopped the mafia.” Kayla corrected, “We got Team SubZero to back off yesterday, so I’m guessing this is their way of saying thank you.”

“You keep mentioning this Team SubZero.”

“Bruh. We met them the first day we started our journey!” Astrid began her over dramatized tale of rescuing the twins, much to their chagrin.

“You never finished that story back in Rocens, you know.”

“I was nervous for my contest.” She shrugged. Janine narrowed her eyes.

“So you mean to tell me that they never crossed paths with you guys once?”

“Nope!”

“We’ve crossed with them twice! And they’ve tried to kill us both times!” Astrid exclaimed. Kayla could only offer a long-withering sigh.

“Coincidence?”

She glared up at the sky just long enough to avoid permanent eye damage. “Arceus is playing some huge trick and is laughing his plates off right now.”

“Wait a minute! Backtrack!” Adrian paused in front of her, “What do you mean tried to kill you?”

“Uh. Kind of? The first time there was this Ciela woman who wanted to catch the twins and she took their Pokemon too.” Janine thought back.

Astrid giggled. “Then we destroyed her stupid machine.”

“Yeah, and then she wanted to freeze-dry us with her Froslass!”

“Don’t be stupid. Froslass can’t learn Freeze-Dry.” Kayla gave her a grin.

“You’re all surprisingly calm about facing a criminal organization.” Sheyla pointed out.

“Oh, it’s never calm. Every minute it feels like I’m about to either cry, punch someone, or a mix of both.” Kaytlyn grimaced, “It’s not fun.”

“Either we’re suppressing our trauma, or we’re sociopaths.” Kayla glanced at her phone, “At least according to Google.”

“Or you’re adrenaline junkies with hero complexes.” Sheyla suggested. Janine considered for a moment before agreeing dejectedly. Astrid let out a loud gasp and dragged Kayla through to a glow-in-the-dark display.

“Kayla! Check out these Tentacool!”

“I already saw them- Stop pulling on me!”

Kaytlyn heaved out a sigh before following her sister. “Sweet Arceus.”

The group slowly crept through the aquarium, stopping frequently to marvel at the different types of Water-Type Pokemon that called the aquarium their home. Janine had to admit that there were details she hadn’t noticed before when she was running around looking for culprits. The silence was broken every few moments when someone would crack a joke or had an interesting fact to share.

The teens followed each exhibits, until they had gone through the entire building, exiting in the courtyard. From there, it was of little argument where to go, as they all agreed that it would be most interesting to watch one of the upcoming shows.

Their curiosity led to a designated pool area that was surrounded by glass, likely to keep people from getting too close to the Pokemon. There were hardly any people sitting in the arena, maybe two or three adults and the rest were staff who were easily recognizable in yellow polos.

Next to the pool was a platform where a man in a wetsuit was standing with his arms crossed staring down at a group of round blue Pokemon.

Janine took out her Pokedex and scanned the Water-Types.

“Spheal, the Clap Pokemon. Spheal always travels by rolling around on its ball-like body. When the season for ice floes arrives, this Pokémon can be seen rolling about on ice and crossing the sea.”

“It’s so round…” Kayla looked at the Pokemon with wide eyes. The group of Spheal clapped enthusiastically, some rolling around dumbly. A single Spheal was the outlier of the group far away, and refusing to even get close. The Pokemon began to practice some sort of routine, each taking turns bouncing a beach ball to each other. In a word, it was one of the cutest displays they’d ever seen. Until it was the last one’s turn.

The Spheal smacked the ball back with more force than necessary, bonking one of the others in the face.

“Spheal, come on! Please cooperate for once!”  The trainer pleaded to no avail as the Spheal absolutely ignored him. “Spheal!”

“Woah, that Spheal really doesn’t want to listen to him.” Astrid whistled, pressing closer to the foggy glass. Kayla nodded.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to do their routine?” she suggested. The Spheal bounced closer to one of the others and promptly smacked it so hard that it rolled backwards into the water. “Or. Maybe it’s just mean.”

The man seemed to be at wits end as the Spheal bounced/rolled around causing chaos amongst the others.

“Spheal it’s not that hard! Bounce the ball!” The handler seemed to try a different approach, giving a nervous laugh as he gently tossed the ball in said Pokemon’s direction. The Spheal gave him an angry look at smacked the ball back again. The handler barely caught it. Spheal opened its mouth and began to form a ball of ice.

Sheyla recognized the move immediately. “That’s Ice Ball!” The handler seemed to notice and thankfully dodged the first time. However, he wasn’t so lucky the second time and was knocked backwards.

“Shouldn’t someone intervene?” Andrea looked around nervously and spotted some of the staff ignoring the scene in front of them, or maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal?

“Woah, let’s talk about this!” The handler scrambled backwards as another Ice Ball shot past his face.

“I think we should intervene!” Adrian said, prompting his friends to run to the glass door on the side that read ‘Employees Only’. The teens pushed their way past each other through the narrow door. Kaytlyn was the first to throw a Pokeball out.

“Charmander, use Ember!” Her Fire-Type released a barrage of small fires at the Ice Ball, throwing it off it’s trajectory and down to the tiled floor. Andrea helped the man up while Kaytlyn faced down with the angry Pokemon. The Spheal stared down Charmander with a surprising amount of ferocity. The Spheal let out a bark and began to roll towards Charmander at an alarmingly fast pace. The lizard hopped to the side to avoid the attack.

“That was Rollout!” Astrid exclaimed as the group parted to avoid the still rolling Pokemon. She threw down a Pokeball, “Vulpix use Fire Spin to keep it in place! Wait- but not too strong!”

The fire fox popped out and released flames from its mouth that quickly formed a circle of fire around the spheal, a muted version of it’s usual fire tornado. The Spheal rolled in place inside the fire circle for a few moments before rolling out, completely oblivious to the flames. Astrid let out a shriek and scooped Vulpix out of the way.

“Charmander, use Dragon Rage!” Charmander gathered a collection of orange energy in its mouth and released it towards the Spheal resulting in a cloud of dark smoke. When the Water-Type came into view, it seemed injured, but continued to glare at Charmander as if it wanted to continue fighting. Charmander let out a growl and Spheal’s glare faltered for a moment.

“That’s it! Spheal, return!” The handler recalled Spheal back to its Pokeball. The man sighed heavily before turning to the teens, “I’m sorry for Spheal’s behavior.”

“Is it usually like this?” Andrea asked warily. He sighed again.

“Unfortunately, yes. Spheal’s been causing trouble for the Aquarium for quite some time. Because of that, Spheal is the only Pokemon here that needs to be in a Pokeball.”

Sheyla looked up from where she was staring at a snoozing Spheal. “Is Spheal originally from the wild?” “No.” He replied, “Spheal was hatched and raised here in this Aquarium. We have no idea where he learned how to battle though.” He rubbed the back of his head, “He’s been picking fights with the other Pokemon, so we couldn’t have him in any exhibits. Similarly, he struck out in the petting zoo…”

“You let him around children?”

“Yeah, that was a mistake. This Spheal show is the last chance we have for him.”

“What do you mean last chance?” Kayla gave him a curious look.

“Well, if Spheal can’t live in the Aquarium, we either send him somewhere else or we release him to the wild. Because Spheal is so volatile, they’re leaning towards the latter.” 

Sheyla narrowed her eyes. “Don’t Pokemon raised in captivity die in the wild?”

“Wait they do?!” Kayla’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Pokemon that are raised in captivity aren’t used to life in the wild; They don’t know how to hunt  or protect themselves. It’s almost as if their natural survival instincts have been wiped away completely. Unless a Pokemon is exceptionally strong, it’s not advisable to send them into the wild on their own.”

“That’s cruel! Why would they be leaning towards that option?”

“Because Spheal’s built up a reputation as being difficult with other people and Pokemon. None of the Breeding Centers and Aquariums we’ve contacted want him.” The handler glanced down at the Pokeball in his hands. “We can’t find anyone who can handle him, and he’s purposely been messing up the shows by trying to fight everything in the immediate vicinity. Including me. The most we can do is hope that when we release Spheal, he’ll be caught by some nice trainer.”

“Or…” Adrian cut in, “You could cut out the middle and just give Spheal to a trainer directly.”

Astrid gave him a look. “What trainer could control Spheal?” She held her hand up, “And don’t say you.”

“Pff, no! I already have a Water-Type. I meant Kaytlyn.”

“What? Me?” Kaytlyn and Charmander had been half-heartedly been listening to the conversation until her name was called.

“Well, yeah. You got Spheal to back off long enough for its handler to call it back to its Pokeball. I’m sure you could handle it.” He gave her a pat on the back as if it was any consolation.

“That’s right! You took on Romeo and beat him despite the type disadvantage! You’d totally be able to handle a water type!” Astrid joined in, blatantly ignoring Kaytlyn’s motions for her to shut up. The twin turned to Janine in the hopes that she’d stop them.

“...You might be able to teach Spheal to calm down. You’re pretty calm in most situations.”

“No I’m not!”

“You have to admit that Spheal gives you a tactical advantage. Spheal would give you an advantage over Rock-Types and Ground-Types. Which are strong against Charmander.” Sheyla added. 

Kaytlyn turned to her Charmander who was staring up at her intently. “What do you think? Would you be okay with another Pokemon on our team?” Charmander seemed to consider a moment before letting out a happy sort of growl, letting the flame on its’ tail grow larger. “Well if you’re okay with it…”

“You seem to be a strong trainer. I’m trusting you with Spheal okay? So… take good care of him.” The handler gently placed the Pokeball in her cupped hands. “I should go practice the routine with the others, so good luck with Spheal!” The handler said brightly, leading the Spheal herd away through a door.

“So… what now?”

~*~*~*~*~

With the aquarium trip cut short, the teens sat out in the grass outside the Pokemon Center, lounging on the grass in various states of relaxation. Kind of.

“Kaytlyn, just let it out!” Kayla was thoroughly done with her sister.

“No! It’s going to attack me or something!”

“Then I’ll do it for you!” Kaytlyn dodged her sisters hands before she could grab the Pokeball. “Why are you so scared? Charmander is right there.”

Astrid looked up. “We could all let our Pokemon out if that helps.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Janine placed her hand on the Coordinator’s shoulder to keep her from releasing her Chikorita. “If there are too many Pokemon around it might get intimidated and then it’ll actually attack.”

Astrid let out a groan, “Then do something already! We didn’t even get to see the petting zoo area!” She threw a short twig at Kaytlyn in annoyance.

The girl gave her a dirty look before taking a deep breath. Charmander cooed in support while the other trainers backed up significantly.

“Here goes.” Kaytlyn flung the Pokeball into the air and tensed up. When Spheal materialized in front of them it immediately looked around and began to glare at Charmander. She quickly stepped between them, blocking their glares. “I’m just gonna cut in here, Spheal, I’m your trainer.”

“Way to rip off the bandage!” Kayla teased from her safe spot behind Janine. Kaytlyn sighed and knelt down to offer her hand to the Pokemon.

“Listen, we didn’t start off on the best terms, but I hope we can work together.” The Water-Type gave her an unimpressed look and turned away huffily.

“Maybe Spheal is still mad at you and Charmander.” Andrea tried.

“At this point I think it’s less that Spheal’s holding a grudge and more that this is just how he acts.”

“Oh That’s right!” Adrian nodded, “Spheal didn’t even listen to his handler!”

“You two need some bonding exercises.” Astrid suggested, “Why don’t you play a game?”

“What game do you play with a Pokemon?” Adrian wrinkled his nose.

“Ducklett, Ducklett, Yungoos?” She tried.

“No.”

“Rowlet’s funny. That’s why we get along. ” Kayla mentioned. Adrian looked at her and decided to offer his advice as well.

“My Pokemon and I have a common goal: to be the strongest team in all of Niacal.”

“Ooh, same!” Astrid gave him a hi-five, “But also Chikorita, Vulpix, and I have a lot in common personality-wise.”

“So what I’m getting from this is to have a common goal, find what we have in common, and try to find a good personality trait.”

“Yeah.”

“Basically.”

She sighed again. Janine thought for a moment.

“You battle.” Janine paused, “Or share a life-threatening experience. That’s how it worked for Arroz and Pollo.”

(“She still hasn’t explained why they’re named after food.” Andrea muttered to Sheyla.)

“Wanna re-enact the Mightyena attack?” Kaytlyn gave her a sarcastic look.

“No, but battling is actually a really good idea!” Sheyla said, “In fact it’s probably what’s gonna help you and Spheal learn more about each other! There’s a whole study about how battling strengthens the bond between Trainers and Pokemon and helps them grow!” At this, Spheal suddenly rose to attention, growing more interested the longer he heard about battling other Pokémon.

“Yeah, but who wants to battle Spheal?” Kayla asked. No one volunteered until Janine spoke up.

“I know I promised to battle Adrian today, but actually, Adrian, would you mind battling Kaytlyn and Spheal instead?” “It’s good with me, but you’re going to have to battle me next time.” Adrian said, pushing himself up off the grass. “I assume you’ll be using Spheal for this?” Kaytlyn faltered for a moment.

“I’m… not so sure… Spheal will hardly listen to what I have to say.”

“Then start off with Charmander. Having Spheal watch the battle would mean he’d understand how the battle works first.” Kayla said. Astrid let out a few condescending scoffs before pulling Kayla back by her shoulder.

“Actually, it would be better for Spheal to experience the battle with Kaytlyn. They’d get a first hand experience at a partnership.”

“And Spheal could also completely ignore Kaytlyn and do whatever it wants getting itself, Kaytlyn, or other people and Pokemon in the process.”

“Kayla, I can watch the Olympics for a week straight. It doesn’t mean I can do backflips! You can’t learn it just by watching- Especially not with battling. Besides, it’s just a practice battle. You act like they’re facing the League.”

“People could get hurt!”

“Yes. And?”

“What?”

“I thought we’ve already gone over this: I don’t care about people.”

“Wha- Astrid!”

“Kayla!” she mocked.

“Or?” Sheyla stepped to intervene, “They could double battle. That literally combines both your solutions. You’re both stupid.”

Adrian swept stray grass off his pants and stood in a battle-ready stance. The twin gave him a look before turning to the Pokedex Janine had stuffed into her hands. It said that Spheal’s known moves were Ice Ball, Water Gun, Encore, and Rollout.

“So I’ll just avoid the obvious type disadvantage. Go! Marshtomp and Ralts!”

“I told you it evolved!” Kayla pointed out to her travelling companions.

“Janine, I don’t mean to alarm you, but if Adrian’s your rival, then maybe you should invest in some Grass-Type Pokemon.” Andrea stage whispered, causing the teen to let out a sigh in acceptance. Astrid took the opportunity to scan Adrian’s evolved starter.

“Marshtomp, The Mud Fish Pokemon. This Pokémon plays in mud on beaches when the ocean tide is low. Living on muddy ground that provides poor footing has made its legs sturdy.”

“Charmander, Spheal! Let’s go!” Surprisingly, Spheal was compliant, easily hopping up next to Charmander, giving a somewhat intimidating stare to Marshtomp.

“Ralts, start us off with Magical Leaf!” Ralts raised its hands above its head, summoning up a group of glowing green leaves. Ralts threw his hands down sending the leaves spiralling towards Spheal.

“Use Ember to burn that up!” Charmander hopped in front of Spheal and shot bolts of fire at the offending leaves, burning them up to ash.

“Marshtomp, Mud Bomb!” Marshtomp dug its arms (fins?) into the ground and hurled a blob of mud at the Fire-Type who was left momentarily defenseless. Kaytlyn opened her mouth to command Spheal, but hesitated a moment too late, unsure that Spheal would even bother listening. Spheal took action for her and formed an ice ball and throwing it back, countering the attack before it could hit.

“Have more confidence in your Pokemon!” Kayla cheered from the sidelines.

“Spheal reacted before Kaytlyn did. Interesting.” Sheyla hummed, “And Spheal countered the Mud Bomb just as Charmander did with the Magical Leaf.”

“He’s learning!” Janine marvelled, “He’s a natural battler.”

Spheal reared back and prepared another ice ball to throw at Ralts.

“Spheal, wait!” Kaytlyn called out. Spheal paid her no mind and shot the Ice Ball anyway.

“Ralts use teleport!” Ralts popped out of existence for a moment dodging the ice, leaving Spheal both confused and vulnerable to attack. “Marshtomp, use Tackle!” Marshtomp let out a cry and moved to throw itself onto the Spheal with full force. Spheal panicked for a split second

“Block that with Dragon Rage!” Charmander gathered a small amount of orange energy in its mouth and shot it out at Marshtomp, not hitting it, but preventing it from continuing its’ attack. This bought Spheal enough time to bounce away from the Marshtomp in the chaos.

Janine leaned over to Sheyla and Andrea.

“Kaytlyn isn’t going to win this is she?”

“Nope.” Sheyla didn’t bother to take her eyes off of the field.

“No, she isn’t.” Andrea cast an amused glance to the side, “Marshtomp is an evolved Pokemon with a double advantage against Charmander. And Ralts knows a Grass-Type move.”

“What’s important is that Spheal learns to that Pokemon Battles aren’t just about fighting.” Sheyla explained. “Battles are about showcasing the bond between Trainer and Pokemon.”

Andrea nodded, “That’s why Adrian’s holding back on attacking. He wants Spheal to realize that. Or maybe he’s getting a feel for the battle before destroys them… Either way.” She shrugged.

“That’s kinda… brutal…” Janine turned back to the practice battle.

“Charmander, use Scratch!” Charmander aimed its claws at the Marshtomp but was easily blocked. Most of Charmander’s moves would be useless either way, the most she could do was use Smokescreen to buy time-

“Use your other Pokemon!” Kayla yelled out to her, “Idiot.”

“What?!”

“Ralts, use Confusion on Charmander!” Ralts’ eyes were glowing blue under its bangs while Charmander seemed to have a blue outline. Without warning, Charmander was flung backwards into the dirt. “Marshtomp use Tackle again!” Marshtomp nodded in assent and threw itself at the Ice-Type Pokemon. Without Charmander to help defend, her only option was… Kaytlyn threw caution to the wind and took a chance.

“Spheal, use Rollout!” Spheal had no hesitation as it began to rapidly roll and landed the first actual hit in the battle, slamming into Marshtomp’s stomach. Spheal rolled back to Kaytlyn with a happy expression on his face. “Great Job!” She received a happy bark in response.

“It listened to her!” Janine let out a happy whoop and clapped a bit in encouragement.

“Marshtomp use Water Gun!” Marshtomp puffed its’ orange cheeks up then released a strong stream of water at Charmander. Kaytlyn looked to the Pokedex in her hand before deciding her next move.

“Charmander, use Ember to counter! Full Power!” Charmander glanced back at her with a ludicrous expression but followed her direction and shot out at the water. The Fire-Type move didn’t do much, barely keeping the strong water at bay. “Great! Spheal use Rollout on Ralts!” Spheal got a flopping start and spun its way over to the Psychic-Type.

“Ralts, use Teleport to get out of there!” Ralts easily popped out of view for a few moments, allowing him to dodge Spheal’s attack. Ralts reappeared in the same spot, confident in having dodged the attack.

“Come back!” Kaytlyn let herself grin watching her half-formulated strategy come to fruition. Like a yo-yo, Spheal rolled in place for a moment before rolling back in the same direction, hitting the unsuspecting Ralts. “One more time!” Spheal stopped for a second before changing direction and hitting Marshtomp who was busy fending off Charmander’s full strength Ember. Spheal rolled back to Kaytlyn, clearly satisfied with his accomplishment.

“That was so cool!” Astrid skipped over to shower the clearly uncomfortable Spheal to shower it with head scratches.

“You can’t just- This is a battle!” Adrian yelled from his side of the field. The coordinator didn’t even spare him a glance as she scratched behind the Water-Type’s ear.

“Practice Battle. We both know that if you really wanted to battle Kaytlyn, you wouldn’t have deliberately focused on one Pokemon at a time.”

“He was what?” Kaytlyn turned to her opponent in question. He shrugged unapologetically.

“I wasn’t about to straight up destroy the Pokemon you just got. I’m not stupid. You needed to build trust.” He rolled his eyes.

“Wow. Adrian being prepared. What a scholar.” Sheyla teased. He ignored her determinedly, even when the others joined in. Meanwhile Kaytlyn crouched down to Spheal’s level.

“So, Spheal, do you wanna stay on my team?”

Spheal gave her a funny look, like he was asking something. Kaytlyn mirrored the look before deciding to just explain in general.

“I’m aiming to be a Top Trainer here in Niacal. Maybe even the Champion given enough training. There’ll be plenty more battles like that, and you can grow stronger with me and Charmander. We work together as a group. So?”

Spheal gave some aggressively enthusiastic barks, clapping its’ fins against its’ round stomach.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes.” Kaytlyn gave another grin and scratched its’ head in thanks. When she dragged her attention back to the group, Adrian was discussing tomorrow’s activities.

“Tomorrow I’m taking on Romeo. Are you guys staying to watch it?” Astrid made a hissing sort of sound.

“Yikes. We’re kinda leaving tomorrow morning…”

“Are you serious? Every time?!”

“I don’t know, if you’re upset ask Mew for advice. Anyway, we’ll be heading to Silkgem for Janine’s second badge.” Kayla explained. She glanced at her other friend, “And probably stopping at any and all contests for Astrid. I can almost guarantee that you’ll catch up in a day or two.”

“If we don’t run into trouble.” Janine sighed, “Our battle is postponed again.”

“I don’t get it, why can’t we battle now?”

“For one, your Pokemon are exhausted and second, you should probably rest for tomorrow’s Gym Battle. Just a suggestion.”

“Also, Janine has the Harbor Badge and you don’t. If you ask me it’s kind of unfair since she has more badges than you.” Astrid cut in, clearly hoping to rile him up. She clearly succeeded if his indignant tone was any clue.

“Oh shut up!”

“On the upside,” she continued, “We can finally have that sleepover we didn’t get to have in Rocens city. We can make face masks!”

“Please don’t make face masks.” Janine groaned, causing her friends to laugh.

Narrator: With a new friend by her side, Kaytlyn begins to build her Pokemon team! With adventure just beyond the horizon, what will our heroes face next?

The entire group was sitting in a room that was clearly too small to house them. There were two bunks on either side. The bottom bunks held Sheyla, Andrea, Astrid and Adrian while Janine and the twins opted to sit on the floor rather than cram themselves onto the Pokemon Center beds. After their 4th round of Uno they began to calm down and were leisurely throwing down cards without any real malice. A thought crossed Janine’s mind as she threw down a Red Two.

“No seriously, you’ve never met team SubZero?” Janine asked seriously. Andrea shook her head while Popplio gave tilted its head.

“Not once.”

“Huh.”

“If you do, try to stop them from whatever it is they’re doing. It’s probably going to be nefarious and involve destruction.” Astrid brushed her Vulpix’s tail while he obediently sat still.

“Honestly.”

“It’s so weird though, what are their goals? Why drill in the forest? Why poach Pokemon and go through all the effort to kidnap them again?” Sheyla pointed out, “And why would that guy let you go?” She motioned to Janine.

“He said something about truths and ideals; Honestly I blanked out.” She shrugged.

“And why hire other people to do the poaching when they could clearly do it themselves?”

“The poachers said they were offering lots of money too.”

“It doesn’t add up!”

“You know what does? This Wild Draw Four!” Astrid howled, breaking the tense silence. Kayla who was next to sighed and accepted the cards with slight grumbling as the game heated up again and the topic was almost completely forgotten.