#but they mostly just stay in an extra pocket of her vest

[do-not-pursue-the-beast]

yes. I agree with both of these

okay you know what the idea is driving me crazy so:

we need more Crows with glasses. Wylan, with a pair of wired glasses, Matthias’s look like old man reading glasses (btw if you have these, you’re underrated they can look really cool), Nina with a pair of like red 1950’s cat eye glasses (also underrated), Jesper’s frames would be just really colorful, Inej with a pair of dark purple, small, metal frames, and I have no ideas for Kaz.

[12timetraveler]

The Curious Bath Girl

For @dweebpheles who won the third prize. They requested Vandermatthews HCs. This is an idea I've had bouncing around in my head for a while.

You can also read this on my ao3

~ Okay this is maybe a little bit wild, but hear me out.

~ When Hosea and Dutch first met, Hosea was pretending to be a bath girl.

~ Now hold on it's not what you think.

~ Dutch had just rode into town, pulling to a stop at the local saloon

~ he grabbed a drink and a bite to eat before renting one of the rooms for a night.

~ the saloon was mostly empty, aside from a few barflies.

~ but in the corner of the room sat a man who looked rather out of place amongst the sloppy drunks.

~the man was thin and lanky. His hair was the lightest shade of blonde Dutch had seen.

~ the man wore a crisp clean vest and a well fitting shirt.

~ he certainly wasn't a business tycoon.

~ but Dutch did catch a glimpse of a shiny pocket watch tucked into his vest.

~ as he ate Dutch eyed the man, admiring his good looks while subtly planning out how to rob him.

~ when he returned his empty plate, the saloon owner asked if he'd also like a bath.

~ why not splurge? Dutch had a little extra cash.

~ The bath was warm, the room smelled clean, Dutch fel his whole body relax.

~ right on cue there was a rap at the door, signaling a bath girl ready to offer her services.

~ but instead of a sweet feminine voice calling through the door, a warm tenor met Dutch's ears.

~ "need any help in there?"

~ Dutch was shocked at first. But it wouldn't be the first house of particularly ill repute he'd visited.

~ it certainly wouldn't be his first encounter with a man.

~ "Sure"

~ in strode the man Dutch had noticed down in the bar. He hadn't realized he was an employee.

~ His eyes were a beautiful hazel color. They sparkled in the firelight.

~ he rolled his sleeves up over his elbows and Dutch felt his mouth go dry.

~ "you just sit back and let me take care of you," the man cooed, sitting on the edge of the tub.

~ For once in his life, Dutch was at a loss for words.

~ as the handsome man began scrubbing him down, it was all Dutch could do to lift his limbs to make the man's job easier.

~ "How long you in town?" The man crooned.

~ "what makes you think I'm not a local?" Dutch asked.

~ "you got three states worth of dirt in your hair," the man chuckled.

~ "you got me," Dutch laughed, feeling at ease. "I'm not sure how long I'll be here. Depends on if there's something worth staying for,"

~ "Hmmm. So mysterious," the man hummed as he scrubbed Dutch's hair.

~ "What is a man without his secrets?"

~ the two men chatted as Dutch was scrubbed down. The man took his time, not seeming in any rush to get out of there, like some bath girls did.

~ but finally Dutch was scrubbed clean.

~ the man stood with a dashing smile.

~ "I think if I scrub you any harder, I'll scrub down to those secrets of yours," he teased.

~ "wouldn't want that," Dutch chuckled.

~ "my coin purse is on the table. Take a whole dollar. It was worth it," Dutch said.

~ the man gave him a dashing grin and approached the table.

~ Dutch kept an eye on him as he fished out his pay from Dutch's coin purse.

~ but the man seemed very honest, showing Dutch the coins he took to assure him that he took the right amount.

~ "I hope to see you again," the man purred as he left the room.

~ "me too," Dutch mumbled after the man had left.

~ he lifted his hand to examine his score.

~ nimble fingers had easily relieved the man of his pocket watch.

~ it was shiny, well looked after.

~ real silver.

~ not worth too much, but not something to just toss aside.

~ it would get Dutch a couple meals.

~ with a sigh he pushed himself out of the tub and got dressed

~ Dutch frowned as he pulled on his clothes.

~ his ring was missing. A golden lion ring he'd inherited from his father.

~ so was his pocket watch.

~ and while his coin purse was there, his money clip was not.

~ "god DAMN him," Dutch growled.

~ he tossed on his clothes and hurried down the stairs.

~ the man was nowhere to be seen.

~ the bartender gave Dutch a funny look when he asked about the man.

~ "we don't have any bath girls here."

~ Dutch gritted his teeth.

~ He couldn’t believe he’d been conned. Him! Dutch Van der Linde!

~ A pretty face and he let his guard down.

~ Dutch burst out the front of the saloon, eyes scanning the street for the man. But the streets were empty.

~ Dutch began searching, hand resting on his gun.

~ To the side of the saloon was a dark alley

~ It’s where Dutch would have hidden, if he were the thief.

~ Carefully Dutch made his way down the alley, squinting against the dim light.

~ He drew his gun, ready to fire if need be.

~ click

~ a gun is pressed to the back of his head.

~ “You stole my watch” A tenor voice growled.

~ “And you stole my ring, my watch, and my money,” Dutch said dryly.

~ He slowly turned to face the man

~ The two con artists stared each other down for a moment.

~ “Yeah,” The other man laughed. “I did,”

~ Both guns are lowered, though not holstered.

~ “That was quite the daring con,” Dutch commented. “Acting as a bath worker.”

~ “Yeah but you bought it,” The man chuckled. “I knew you would, the way you were eyeing me up.”

~ “I was eyeing you up as a target,” Dutch grumbled.

~ “Then why’d you let me bathe you?” The other man teased.

~ Dutch shook his head and holstered his gun.

~ “Well, I can’t fault a fellow conman. Especially one so cunning. Dutch Van der Linde,” Dutch extended his hand.

~ “Hosea Matthews,” the man replied, shaking his hand. “Wanna get a drink. You’re buying,” Hosea held up Dutch’s money clip.

~ “Sure,” Dutch chuckled.

~ The two men spent the rest of the night drinking and swapping stories.

~ it was the start of a legendary partnership.

[xenoblademisadventures]

Also here's a dump of other sketches with my thoughts process. Long post, so everything’s under the cut.

The Mythra:

I really liked my first idea so I stuck with it. My thought process was I wanted to emphasize that she's mecha anime and therefore out of place (she already has a mech). Pants are a reference to Alvis's illegal shoes. She’s wearing a crop top because Mythra reads as the type of person who would enjoy wearing a crop top to me. She has giant gauntlet things on her arms because they look cool. I gave her two giant braids because anime (and I’ve noticed a trend of tsundere characters often having two strands of hair going outwards for some reason? And I figured “might as well copy+pasta lol). Her left eye is partially covered by hair, which is supposed to represent her feeling distant or partially isolated from the rest of the world. It’s also a character design trend sometimes used in villain characters, which I thought would fit Mythra since she’s worried about her power being used for evil in 2 and is being constantly compared to Malos in Torna. I kept the choker from the base design because it looks cool and also relates to how she’s constantly constraining herself.

I also wanted to make her buff because she’s a warrior who wields a giant fucking sword, she should be buff (like, the fight scenes involving her in Torna DLC looked a bit awkward because Mythra was swinging a giant sword around one-handed like it was nothing while also having very shrimpy arms). 

Overall, I wanted Mythra to feel very alien and distant to the rest of the world. If I were to continue iterating on this, I’d probably look at some of Elma’s armor (mim and alien) for reference because doing that would allow for Mythra to look disconnected from the Xenoblade 2 cast but still feel like a Xenoblade character.

Side note: I assumed that the Aegis shape Core Crystal was a requirement. If I had the option to remove it, I probably would. It doesn’t look bad, but if the goal was to connect the Aegises with the Monado, I don’t like that Alvis’s key had to be retconned for that to function.

The Pyras:

A consistent theme here between the designs was the pants. I wanted Alvis's illegal pants to be a running theme among the Aegises because they are stupid and illegal and I like them. They also look like the most vaguely scifi part of his actual outfit, so I figured giving them a shared article of clothing would be a nice way to visually connect the five character designs (Pyra, Mythra, Pneuma, Alvis, and Malos), and I wanted to keep the vaguely mecha theme going. You can see in Pyra 6 that I was tired and just drew Pyra in Alvis's attire. 

I wanted Pyra to look like a mecha design covered up by something that more closely fits the aesthetic used in Xenoblade 1. So not quite mecha, not quite 1. The idea was that Pyra was trying to look more like a common person in order to appear less threatening. If she despises and fears her power, I don’t think she’d want to wear an outfit that embraces it. Putting her in more casual clothing would also contrast with Mythra and better communicate that Mythra is significantly stronger than Pyra. But all that said, putting her in full casual clothing might undercut the emotion Rex and Pyra’s first meeting was meant to invoke (of being like “oh wow, a legendary ancient weapon). And designing her to still look mecha would still be saying that “even though Pyra doesn’t want to be the Aegis, she is still the Aegis and cannot escape her power.” Which is why quite a few designs lean into the mecha aesthetic. The exact balance between mecha and casual clothing was the main thing I struggled with on this design. The final design is the one that more or less struck the balance I was hoping for.

A few of the designs are vaguely sexualized. Specifically Pyras 1, 4, and 7 all have tiny boob windows. If I were to finalize 7, I’d remove the boob window because it looks a bit awkward and I think a belt (similar to Elma’s underboob belt) would look better, but my thought process there was “do I want Pyra to be comfortable?” I don’t want to go over the top with the revealing clothing, but making Pyra wear slightly revealing clothing that she probably wouldn’t want to be wearing could help drive the point that she’s a combination of all the traits Mythra was criticized for lacking. It’s not pleasant or comfortable letting others dictate your entire existence through repeated harassment and Pyra already very heavily acts like the sexist ideas of what a woman should be, so giving her a tiny boob window could help emphasize that point. The main reason I’m saying I’d change it if I iterated on 7 is because I don’t think it compliments the design particularly well.

Another thing that stuck between each version of Pyra’s design was that her left eye is completely covered by hair. I did this for a few reasons: it would follow up on the symbolism of Mythra’s design partially covering her left eye, it would give Pyra a slight air of mystery, and it would faintly reference Alvis’s design (I want the designs to hint at each other but I don’t want it to be super obvious). The earrings were also kept between designs because they were in Mythra’s design and I wanted that to get carried over because it’s a little bit extra cohesion between the two designs. 

I wanted was to use Pyra's hair to help represented Mythra binding herself. Mythra has two braids that are loosely flowing, so she's already semi bound. If I were to start drawing Pneuma, I think I'd want her hair to not be tied at all (maybe a similar style to KOS-MOS and Elly as a reference, maybe not?) or I'd just put her in really long dreadlocks or something because hair go brr. One idea I had was to just have one big braided ponytail, but another idea was to try and tie the hair up (which is what I was going for in Pyra 2). I couldn't find a way to do that in a way I particularly liked, so single big ponytail is the way I went.

You can probably see that there were a lot of ideas thrown at a wall here, so I’ll go over some noteworthy facets of each designs.

Pyra 1 had a key on her chest, it was meant to be reference to Alvis. It didn’t stay in other designs because the reference felt too obvious. The first two designs also had a giant X on her chest, it was meant to look like the outfit was binding her, but I don’t particularly care for it. Pyra 2′s pants had weird patterns on them because I was trying to visually make them look a bit distinguished from Mythra’s while still keeping the same idea, but I don’t really care for them. I also don’t like how Pyra 2 is just wearing a T Shirt. I’m not really sure what I was going for with Pyra 3. She kind of looks like Glimmer in the She-Ra reboot, which wasn’t intentional. Pyra 4 leans more into the mecha than any other Pyra. She kind of looks like a ballerina but not really. I was focusing mostly on making her look a lot like Mythra, but I feel that this design has a lot of similar issues to what I have with Pyra’s actual design where it’s sexy and looks cool, but doesn’t really fit the character. Pyra 5 looks like a heroforge character (or maybe like something that fit Mass Effect’s aesthetic if I’m being generous?). I feel that this one also doesn’t fit her character particularly well. Pyra 6 was a bit of an overcorrection and I ended up just drawing Pyra in Alvis’s outfit. And Pyra 7 is the one I actually went with.

Rexes:

Rex 1 was more of a warm-up than anything. I put him in a vest and some pants. The hookshot and x marking were things I completely forgot about until last minute, which is why they look tacked on. He has a belt with some items in it. I wanted to give him scraffly hair and freckles to better emphasize that he’s just some kid. I don’t really like this design. I feel like if I polished it up, it would still have a lot of the benefits to base Rex while not getting as many people complaining about his pants, but the design is overall a huge “meh.”

With Rex 2, I decided to actually look up what scuba gear looks like. This design ended up emphasizing primarily that Rex has a lot of expertise in salvaging and that he’s a kid with humble origins. His strap on was based on a scuba outfit, same with the shoes. He’s also wearing pull-ups with giant pockets. I felt those imply humble origins because pull-ups get associated with rural settings. The giant pockets imply that he works with machinery. That’s also why his hair’s tied back. If you long hair and you work with machinery, that’s supposed to be tied back so that it doesn’t get caught in anything. I also gave him glasses because we need more characters with glasses. 

The character’s meant to be 15 and I feel that this looks closer to 15 than 12. If I were to make future iterations of this design, I’d try to lean more into making him look 15 because he doesn’t look 15 enough to me. I’d do this by giving him acne.

He has gloves because he’ll be using a sword and it’s generally not good to scrape up your palm while using one of those. His hook-shot also now takes up his entire arm because that’s heavy equipment. I haven’t figured out how the wire is supposed to be stored without having it fuck up his arm. But the hook itself is now in a little hook cubby. I think I’d want to make the bottom of the shoes look heavier than they are since they don’t currently look great for walking around the bottom of the ocean. 

Still, I’m very happy with this Rex. I mostly draw anime girls, so I’m happy with the number of things I feel I’ve gotten right with Rex 2.

Nims and a Dahlia:

I’m a bit unsure of what I want from the Blade designs. I decided to design around their element, their rough personalities, them needing a core crystal, and their element. I also want them to look like they could also exist in the same universe and maybe not look very human? That was, at least, my thought process when drawing Nim, though that thought process was not consistently held, like, at all. A lot of my Blade redesigns don’t look very good because I didn’t have a very good idea towards what I should even be aiming for. The Blades have very generic personalities and overall feel so disconnected from the world that I’d probably just scrap every existing Blade in their entirety and replace them different characters who are better established. Like, maybe because this Blade was born from the Gormott Titan, they look like Gormotti or part giraff as a result and are more likely to have the earth element? And how many hands they’ve been through and the personalities of their previous drivers stack up to subtly influence their appearance? Like, a Blade from Gormott that ended up in Uraya for 10 lifetimes might be an earth-type cat-person with fins or something? Or maybe the more developed a Blade is, the less it resembles a human? But doing that would require writing a lot more lore per individual Blade than is actually provided. But just having something to better frame the Blades as something other than “random (mostly) anime girls that you pick up along the way” would be necessary to give them good designs.

Anyways, with Nim, I figured giving her a Saytr like appearance would be good. She has a strong association with animals and nature, which, for me, translates to “naked.” Alongside that, I looked up Nymphs and they’re also usually depicted as naked women. I also completely disregarded to the two foxes on her shoulders. They were put into Nim 1 as an afterthought. 

Nim 1 is the only Nim that isn’t plus-sized because I figured “why not have some different body types among the blades?” A lot of my redesigns for Pyra and Mythra try to keep their body type more or less in tact less because I think it’s the best body type for them and more to spite the idea that them having big boobs is the reason that they’re oversexualized. Like, they are comically big, but they’re only sexualized because of how much attention the camera and design draws to them. But, that’s a side tangent. I made Nim overweight because I like drawing overweight women. Nim 1 gets the vibes of “naked lady” while Nim 2 has the vibes of “big fluffy friend” while Nim 3 is somewhat of a compromise. If I were to make a final design for her out of these, I’d definitely try and fuse some aspects of Nims 2 and 3.

Nim 3 has vines on her arms because Nymphs get depicted with vines quite a bit. The main reason Nim 2 is wearing a sun dress is because I stepped back and thought “wait, maybe some people would have an issue with a naked anime lady running around.” Nim 2 also has a transition between furry legs and no fur legs. 

I didn’t really have any ideas for Dahlia. I saw someone draw a version of Dahlia based off Elsa from Frozen and I thought that might be fun to draw. I don’t really have any further thoughts on this.

Praxises:

This is sort of where I was at the point where I realized that if I wanted to redesign the blades, I’d need to figure out some unifying theme for them all. I was thinking “maybe blades could try and visually represent different aspects of being human?” This idea was only really used on Praxis and wasn’t very strongly represented. I was kind of tired when I drew Praxis 1 and Praxis 2 was a bit of a warm-up sketch. 

Neither of these designs are particularly good. I wanted Praxis to be wearing those 90s bubbly arm and leg warmers because she has a bubbly personality and is a water type. I don’t know why Praxis 2 is a cowgirl. 

Zenobias:

Zenobia 1 is based a bit a wrestler because she has wrestler vibes. I see her as the type of person who would do Dark Souls no armor run on the dance pad. My other thought process was “let me google the word ‘zenobia’ and see what crops up” and I saw something about a Syrian empress but I decided to do zero research, so I have no idea if what I drew was offensive towards muslims. She has a scarf tho because wind.

Zenobia 2 is based on a picture of that empress lady. I don’t think it follows her character in-game particularly well though. 

Two (Blade) Nias:

Neither Nia is particularly finished. The main requirements were that this Nia has to look like a Blade, a catgirl, and like something were she’d be able to hide the Blade parts, but not comfortably. I’m at a bit of a loss here. I think the formal wear used in her base-game design is not the way to go. The outfit just doesn’t feel like it matches her brash and snarky personality, like, at all. The first outfit was trying to throw random ideas but nothing was coming up and that’s what happened with the other. Though, Nia 2 gets bonus points for looking like a cats 2019 character. I was sketching out what parts of her body should be covered, but I don’t think I’d want to go with crop-top and skirt because Mythra already has a crop top. The tail is also debatable since I figured if I kept that, how Nia hides the tail could be a fun part of her driver outfit. I also didn’t really like how Driver Nia and Blade Nia have different hair and ear lengths. It bothered me more here than with the original Pyra/Mythra designs because Nia isn’t the Aegis, I don’t think she should be allowed to material and dematerialize her clothing, hair, and ears like that. I do kind of like the idea of giving her paws since those are things that can be easily hidden by shoes. Giving her spotted skin isn’t a bad idea but it’s not as high on the “keep” scale as the paws are (which aren’t super high in the first place).

Overall, it’s probably a bit anticlimactic to end on some lame designs, but that’s how it goes, I guess. If I were to redesign more of the Blades (or finish the Blade redesigns I started), I’d need to figure out what running themes I want from the Blade designs. I think maybe focusing on the human designs first and working from there could be a way to go. Unsure. 

[the-calicos-missteps]

Blind Haruka Nanami AU

Uta no Prince-Sama AU

When I first watched Prince-Sama all those years ago, I legitimately thought the poor girl was blind until it was established that no, she was not XD. It was the style of her eyes that threw me off at that time. So, I decided to make an AU out of this old misconception of mine!

In the first episode, Haruka mentions to Shibuya Tomochika that she had poor health as a child. Seeing as she as young, in this AU she was born legally blind. Not completely blind, just... legally blind. This is probably not the reason she had poor health, but it certainly contributed to it. 

At the beginning of the series, she has a Golden Retriever Seeing Eye Dog named Hayate; yes, named after her idol Hayato-Sama. 

She also has a long white cane with a red bottom; this means she is not completely blind. However, it is usually folded up in a purse or pocket and she only takes it out if it is truly needed. She wears sunglasses on sunny days.  

Some things will not be true to real life. But when is anime ever? 

Episode 1 synopsis below! It’s mostly the same as the original episode with changes to account for Haruka’s blindness, but that is because we must set the stage! (Spoiler: The ending is very different!) Ready, go!

Episode 1 synopsis 

When Haruka begs the guard's to let her in, Hayate sits there making puppy eyes at them. She doesn’t grab the guard, but people watching coo at Hayate, same with the guard behind the one talking to Haruka. The guard then asks why a blind girl would even bother taking such a test for a prodigious school. She tries to defend herself and this is where Otoya steps in.

When Otoya starts talking to her and sees her eyes for the first time, he blushes thinking they look cute. He reaches out to pet Hayate, but then sees his vest and pulls back. 

 Haruka helped the lost girl by taking her around town until they found the child’s mother and retracing the child’s steps. Hayate helped to calm the girl down enough to get her to work with them. 

Ren says his whole spiel, but then adds that are famous composers who have created music even with disabilities like Beethoven, so why couldn’t she take the test? 

Haruka took the test in a specialized room, with previously set accommodations. A dictator read her test out loud to her, and for passage questions, she was given a brail booklet. 

She met Tomo after the test; they were both released around the same time and Tomo immediately latched onto Haruka. They met outside the school before term started. 

She had to keep asking Tomo what was happening during the entrance ceremony, who was more than happy to with over-exaggerated hand movements and sounds. 

When Otoya recognizes her in the classroom, Haruka says ‘Oh! Based on your voice... you’re the first boy that helped me, right? Thank you!’

She asks to ‘see’ his face by tracing it with her fingers. Otoya agrees with a blush and fidgets his hands while she traces his face. He becomes even more embarrassed when she asks if he is okay because his face is really hot. 

When Shinomiya jumps to latch onto Haruka, Hayate growls in warning pulling her away while Masato grabs her hand at the same time, but because of the unbalance of Hayate pulling, is unable to knock Otori into her place... So Shinomiya faceplants into the desks. 

When talking about Elizabeth, he finally notices Hayate and immediately starts petting him, saying he is just like ‘his Eli�� while Hayate growls at him. Otoya pulls him off, berating him while Haruka begs him not to do such a thing because he’s working. When Shinomiya becomes confused, Masato points out his seeing dog vest. Shinomiya has a sudden realization and apologizes profusely. 

Haruka notices the classmates negative perception of them. She clenches Hayate’s lead and says she’s going to sit back down. The others look at her confused. 

When Ringo-Sensei comes in, Haruka sees a blurry image of him and assumes from the long hair he is a woman, even with the masculine sounding voice. She still becomes shocked when Tomo tells her he’s actually a man. 

When Ringo comes close and slams on her desk, before he can say much Hayate growls and barks at him. That’s when he realizes Haruka is his blind student and his reprimand becomes less harsh. 

Ringo has automatically labeled Haruka as weaker in his mind. This is going to color both his interactions with her and her perception of him, as well as lower the classes perception of her.  He also mentions that the headmaster wishes to see her after class.

Hayate growls at people that get too close too quickly. He especially growled at Tomo when they first met but mellowed out around her when he realized she wasn’t a threat.

When Haruka says that they do not have a TV in her house, she also offhandedly mentions that she doesn’t really enjoy it that much. 

During lunch, Tomo reads out the options to Haruka, who can not read the small text. 

When Shou catches her card for him, he asks, rather rudely, what was up with her eyes, then saw Hayate. This is when Ren comes in and reprimands him for being rude to a lady. 

After lunch she’s led by a teacher to the headmaster’s office. Saotome mostly wanted to explain accommodations she would be getting at the school, in account of her... deformity. 

Haruka decides that she does not rather like the headmaster.

She would be getting things like a brail copy of the menus, special rooms for tests, dictators, extra help every Friday, a permanent ‘hall pass’ so she could ‘take care’ of Hayate easily, among other accommodations. 

Saotome sees her disability as a PR grab; they have a blind student whom they are helping to succeed. The press will love it! He doesn’t really care about Haruka as a person.

He tells her he will be seeing her at the end of every week on Saturday to discuss how things went during the week, for he is a gracious headmaster. This is non-negotiable, so she agrees. 

Hayate doesn’t like Shining Saotome. 

Haruka arrives back at the room late; mostly because she was forced to find her own way because there was no one to help her. 

Tomo helps her put away her belongings. 

When telling the story of the first time she heard Hayato, Tomo points out that Hayate’s name is very similar. Haruka then explains that she got Hayate shortly after this experience and named the dog after Hayato. Tomo deadpans. 

After Tomo leaves to get them drinks, Haruka only notices the cat because of it’s meowing. The cat gets close enough to Haruka to allow her to pet him and feel his body shape, while he touches noses with Hayate, who is also curious of this cat who doesn’t smell like a cat. 

When Haruka feels around his collar, he tries to get her to come with him by trying to pull her hand while it’s grasping his collar. This fails. Multiple times. 

He then tries to steal her handkerchief to get her to leave the room. Hayate, who thinks the weird cat is playing, instead takes it back out of his mouth, wagging his tail and falling into a playing position. The cat tries again, multiple times. This also fails. 

Hayate’s vest has been taken off, so now he wants to play. 

Exasperated, the cat soon just gives up and stays with them for the night. Haruka wouldn’t be able to tell easily if he left, and he doesn’t want her confused and wondering about his health!

~Enter Orpheus Heart here~

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: A Good Night

Word Count: 2,071

Summary: Sometimes Dwayne feels the need to wander Santa Carla by himself. On one such night, he comes into some money, gets in a fight, and picks up an upgraded bike all while looking good. It’s hard to know how a night will go when it starts, but this one looks like it’s shaping up to be a good one. 

Dwayne had been a calm, passive personality for most of his long life. That’s not to say he didn’t have moments of mischief or violence, because he certainly did both as a human and a vampire. But someone in their gang needed to ground the energy and that was a role he was comfortable filling.

Sometimes he wondered if he would have turned out the same if he had been born different. Maybe he would have been more assertive, or playful, if his brownness wasn’t a factor.

But it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on since wishful thinking never changed anything.

That particular night Dwayne was eager to leave the cave. The other boys were moving slower than usual that evening and he struggled to wait for them. Finally, he made eye contact with David.

“I’ll meet you guys later,” he promised quietly.

David looked at him for a moment then nodded once in assent. Dwayne flew out of the cave’s rocky mouth doing a few aerial flips before reaching the top of the bluff. Still airborne, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

He could no longer enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face, but the feel of the wind playing with his hair and the salty ocean spray that tickled his nose were nice substitutes that he made due with.

The longer hair was a newer development. For the first time since early childhood, he was growing out his hair and the nearly shoulder length strands would his around his face when he flew. He had considered braiding it, or at least tying it back, but figured the length didn’t warrant that quite yet.

Dwayne had also recently become the proud owner of a new motorcycle after he had taken it from a victim about a month back. Seeing as how it was new, he was still in a protective mode towards it and tried his best to take care of it. So when he had wanted to upgrade some parts, he brought it to a mechanic shop to make sure everything was done as right as possible.

He was scheduled to pick it up tonight and he was excited to get it back after missing it for a few days. But before that happened, there was the matter of payment.

There would be more potential targets to choose from at the boardwalk, but most who frequented at this time of night were young people who weren’t exactly rolling in money. On the other hand, there was a ritzy social club just up the street from the boardwalk that was popular with Santa Carla’s upper class.

The stakes were higher, but so was the reward.

And not only was Dwayne a seasoned pickpocket, he was also a professional, which meant success was all but guaranteed. Plus, it sounded like more fun to rip off the rich.

Mind made up, he flew towards the restaurant and dropped down in an unlit alley behind the building, landing with a muted thump. He staked out the parking lot with his arms and hands loose, ready to make a move when opportunity presented itself.

His brown eyes tracked a couple exiting the social club, a young woman in her twenties and an again man with a pronounced gut, the latter pulling a wad of dollar bills from his pocket to hand some to the door boy. He put the money straight back in his jacket pocket instead of using a wallet.

Bingo.

Dwayne stayed back until the couple was a couple of feet away. Squeezing his way between two cars, he sauntered up the lot, making sure he was on the side closest to the man.

In the immediate moment preceding contact, Dwayne curved his body in such a way so as to make sure he would hit as much of the other guy he could. He bumped into him, hard, simultaneously snatching the money from the jacket pocket, faster and lighter than a normal human could sense.

The transaction was over in less than three seconds. Dwayne expertly stashed it in the waist of his jeans then turned, raising both of his hands with open palms to convince the other two that it was an accident.

The man made a surprised noise during the jostling, his eyes focused on Dwayne’s long, dark hair and his buck skin vest. Now that he had a clear look at who had run into him, distain showed on his face. “Never expected to see one of your kind at a place like this. Better watch where you’re walking boy.”

Dwayne’s face remained neutral.

He was dismissed by the couple and they continued onto their car, none-the-wiser that the jacket was lighter than it had been.

Dwayne walked calmly, but purposefully away into the darkened alley to count how much money had lifted. He was pleased to find he now had $60 in his possession.

He smirked at the couple’s car as they drove away. What a bunch of suckers.  

He made sure the cash was secured and wandered down the sidewalk, deciding that he would go to the boardwalk next. Technically, there was still a little time left until he had to pick up his bike, and now that he had some extra cash, he was eager to check out the booths and tables at the boardwalk.

The blinking lights glow fantastically against the black skyline and the joyful screams of riders are audible even before entering official boardwalk limits. This spot has always drawn lots of people, locals and tourists alike, no matter the time.

Dwayne weaved through the thick crowds, which got thicker the further in he went, and found his way to the booths he was interested in. For the most part, they were all lined up in a row on either side of the wooden walkway. The things people were selling were fairly typically—art, clothes, and physic services, to name a few. The jewelry tables featured mostly handmade items that glittered under the streetlight.

One spot in particular, really caught his eye. Dwayne paused while he took in the heishi necklaces made with delicate fragments of shell, shiny silver earrings with bold turquoise pieces, and the selection of intricately beaded chokers.  He looked at everything, picking up the cool ones to properly admire them.

The traditional influences of several tribes were represented: the Navajo, Kewa Pueblo, and Cherokee, among others. Other than the fact that they were North American tribes, there wasn’t any discernable theme that he noticed so the booth likely wasn’t run by someone with ties to a specific group.

He was proven right few moments later.

“The turquoise is really popular right now,” said a young blonde from behind her wispy bangs.

In his mind, Dwayne answered with a sarcastic no shit remark, but all he did on the outside was nod. Turquoise had been an important color, full of spiritual connotations, for the better part of the last couple hundred years in a lot of different tribes.

So, yeah. Popular.

Although, Hendrix wore that beaded fringe shirt with some turquoise to Woodstock last year… maybe the mainstream thought it was a trend.

“Ghost beads are also cool,” she continued. She lifted up a necklace with chunky round beads that were neutrally colored. “They’re supposed to protect you from evil.”

He could use some peace in his life, but he doubted this would help him out considering he was the evil spirit, the ghost, the nightmare, that it was supposed to ward off. Instead, he pointed to a white beaded choker with a turquoise centerpiece.

“What about this one?”

“I’ve had it a while. No ones been that interested in it.”

He rubbed it between the pads of his fingers. It was smooth to the touch and seemed durable when he tested its flexibility. “How much?”

The lady seemed surprised, then contemplative.

“Fifteen dollars,” she said in her best business voice.

Dwayne countered, “How about you accept five and then I’ll take it off your hands.”

She opened her mouth, but made the mistake of looking into his compelling dark irises.  She readily agreed and he handed over a twenty, the smallest bill from his stack of borrowed bills. An illuminated clock post showed that he had fifteen minutes to get to the mechanic garage. He thanked her and left with his change and a brand-new necklace hanging from around his neck.

The flow of traffic had become even more packed in the short time he had been there, especially as he moved closer to the exit. He was nearly out when he accidently bumped into a random guy, this time entirely on accident. He had seen the run-in coming and tried his best to angle out of the way, but with so many people around, his shoulder still clipped the guy in the chest.

Since it was an accident, and because he had somewhere to be, he planned to shake it off and continue on. The other guy didn’t take it well.

Dwayne felt a hand grab his shoulder from behind and was pushed into a small alley between two stores. His back was slammed against the wall, his head taking a pretty good knock. A forearm pressed against his chest.

“Watch where you’re walking!”

It was easy enough to assess the easiest way out of the situation.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, throwing in a noticeable wince for good measure. People like this tended to back off faster if they felt he had learned his lesson.

It was annoying to be waylaid like this, but he kept that emotion absent from his face. He was much stronger than them physically and their attempts to hurt him were barely painful. With any luck, this one would get over it sooner rather than later.

“You should be, you redskin,” he yelled while poking the necklace.

F for creativity.

To stop from rolling his eyes he closed them in mock fear. Redskin was hardly the most creative slur that had ever been hurled at him.

But then the guy had the balls to spit at him.

Dwayne couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching as the spit soaked into his vest. Maybe he did have enough time to take care of this. Before he could make the guy sorry, a bloody hand burst through his soon-to-be-meal’s chest unexpectedly.

The hand retracted and there was confusion on the guy’s face at the gory hole in the center of his chest cavity that was pumping out a steady river of blood. Within seconds the body dropped to the wooden floor, dead.

Marko stood there with his vamped out face, shaking his hand to get some of the flesh out from under his claws.

“Racist dick,” he sneered. He turned to Dwayne, his features melting back to their soft human version.

“Hey man,” he grinned, waving.

Dwayne looked at him unimpressed. “I was taking care of it.”

“I know,” the blond admitted, sucking on his bloody fingers. “But I hate when they talk to you like that.”

Dwayne huffed but didn’t push the issue; the boys were all protective of each other, they were brothers after all, but they were extra sensitive with Dwayne. He appreciated the back-up most of the time, but in this instance, he was a little peeved that he had been robbed the satisfaction of the kill.

He toed the corpse with the bottom of his boot. “You made the mess, then you clean it up.”

Marko pouted but didn’t argue.

Dwayne patted the cash to settle himself. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Go. I got it. And don’t worry, we’ll find you someone to eat,” Marko waved him off.

He slapped the blonde vampire on the shoulder and left him to it.

A small bell jingled when he pushed the door open to the front office of the garage. A teenager with kinky hair was working the desk. He pointed at Dwayne’s choker.

“Cool necklace,” he complimented genuinely.  

Dwayne nodded his head in thanks and watched the kid go bring the motorcycle out front.

The night was shaping up to be a pretty good one. He was getting his bike back, his new jewelry looked good, and his friends would have someone waiting from his to eat when he joined back up with them. 

Yeah. A pretty good night indeed. 

_______________

Thanks for reading!

I wanted to get this out in November since it’s Indigenous Heritage Month and a decent amount of fans headcannon Dwayne as being Native. Or at least not strictly white. Tribes had a Red Power Movement following Civil Rights era so I imagine this sometime in 1970. 

Also partly inspired by how the boys jumped to defend Dwayne in the opening scene of the movie. 

[adrenaline-bloggers]

Adrenaline( By:Keri  Dyck)

Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he read the notification on his phone. A shadow fell across him. He hurriedly turned it off, tucked it in his pocket, and glanced up. It was just a fellow passenger returning from the washroom. His heart pounded.

Adrenaline.

His head whirled with the possibilities. How was he going to do this one? Kidnapping, the text had said. Well, that was simple enough.

Sam stood up, holding the headrest of the seat in front of him until his stiff muscles allowed his legs to straighten. Golden wheat fields flashed outside the window while he made his way to the washroom at the end of the car. There he could go over the assignment in peace.

The victim—Alana—looked like a tough cookie, albeit a cute one. She was on vacation with her boyfriend of exactly one year, Roger. It was Timothy, his best friend, who had ordered Sam’s services this afternoon.

A voice came over the train speakers, announcing their entrance to the outskirts of Paris and requesting everyone be prepared to disembark. Sam knew it was going to be at least twenty more minutes, so he settled more comfortably on the toilet and went over the details another time.

When the train stopped, he ducked his way out of the crowd, then around a few alleys and up the stairs to the little apartment he called home. Tonight’s income was going to pay rent for another week. He needed to prepare himself.

The streets were busy with tourists and locals alike, but it was easy to find his target. Cropped leather jacket, blue striped dress, black combat boots, blond hair under a red beret. She was touching up her cherry lipstick in the reflection of a shop window. Roger was nowhere to be seen.

Sam strolled down the sidewalk toward her, but stopped to chat with the florist, Cecelia. “I might come by to get some flowers later,” he said.

She was all pink cheeks and long lashes as she replied, “I’ll save some for you. What colour?”

“Something violet, but not too dark.”

Then he switched to mission mode. Alana was adjusting her beret now, glancing toward the shop door, obviously thinking that Roger was taking too long. The timing was perfect. He tipped the beret down over her eyes and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her into the alley. He shoved her against the brick wall and covered her mouth with one hand.

“One sound and I’ll blow your brains out,” he hissed, tapping his free hand against the bulge in his jeans pocket.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Her knee came up but he clapped his own together. While he was distracted, her fist connected with his nose. His eyes watered. He pinned her hands to her sides.

“Dirty move. Don’t try that again.”

Her eyes smouldered and her teeth bared. He was right, she was a tough cookie. He pulled the cloth out of his back pocket and pressed it against her nose for just a moment. Her eyes rolled upward while her legs gave out, but he stood her back up.

“There we go. You asked for it. Now, come along.”

She stumbled along while he pushed her through the streets. No one payed attention to the young man leading around his (as they probably thought) drunk female companion. They made their way across the river Seine and toward the fenced-off cathedral of Notre Dame. There was a hole in the fence behind some bushes on the less busy side, and he maneuvered her through.

She started regaining strength in her limbs when they were halfway up the steps, but was too out of breath to fight him. They reached the porch between the two towers. He held the cloth to her nose again, and she tried to hold her breath, but the exertion forced her to inhale the chloroform once more.

While she was dazed, he untied the rope from where he had wrapped it around his left calf beneath his loose jeans and used it to bind her hands behind her back. He secured the loose end to one of the pillars and leaned back against the opposite one, waiting for her to recover and planning his speech.

The sun sank closer to the horizon, bathing everything in warm light. Her regard slowly focussed into a glare, and once a level of ultimate hatred had been reached, he knew she was completely lucid again. He stretched and folded his arms across his chest.

“Looking at Paris in this light, all I can think of is my mother. She would have loved to see that sunset. I wonder if she’d be proud of me?”

The question had a very definitive answer written over her face.

“She always wanted to see the view from up here,” he continued. “But she never got the chance. So I make it a priority to allow others the privilege. At a reasonable fee, of course.” He sighed. “Not very talkative, are we? Did I make your ropes too tight?”

Her loathing could have set him ablaze. “Why are you doing this?”

“She speaks!” He grinned. “Well, mostly for the money. But partly for the thrill. The adrenaline.”

“What money?”

“My fee, compensation, ransom, whatever you want to call it. You’re going to give me a phone number, I’m going to dial it, and you’re going to tell them to pay me. Then I’ll let you go. Now, what’s the number?”

She deadpanned. “Call one-one-two.”

He laughed. “Real funny, sweetheart. Now, are you planning on cooperating, or not? Because it’s a long fall.”

Alana’s eyebrows twitched with the first sign of fear before her focus caught on something behind him. Something hit him, square in the back. He stumbled and landed face-first on the stone floor. Roger, it seemed, had brought a knife.

His breath came in short gasps. Sticky red fluid flooded the mosaic tiles under his chest.

“Oh, thank God. Alana?" Roger reached his girlfriend and set to cutting her ropes. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“No, Roger, I’m fine. I’m so glad you came in time. I thought—I thought he was going to throw me off the roof—I know we don’t have a lot of money—” her words shuddered.

“I’m so sorry I let you out of my sight, Alana.” Then the kissing noises started.

Sam was facing away from them, so he took the opportunity to roll his eyes.

“Did you kill him, Roger?”

“I don’t know.” Footsteps rounded his body.

Sam coughed. More blood spurted from his mouth, dribbling down his cheek. Then his eyes rolled upward and he stopped breathing.

“I think so.”

Her voice was steady again. “Should we call the police? What if you get tried for murder? We should’ve stayed with the group.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam waited for the silence to reach a good level of tension before he sat up and spat out the leftover blood. They both jumped away. Roger shoved Alana and her clenched fists behind his back. Sam took no notice of the knife as he took off his shirt and removed his plated vest with its burst paint balloons.

“What were you saying about never letting her out of your sight? It seems to me that there’s only one arrangement where that’s appropriate.”

They both stared at him, frozen.

He removed the bulge in his pocket, unwrapped the extra paper that had made it appear menacing before, and handed the box to Roger. He slowly lowered the knife and took it. Then his expression cleared.

“Timothy.”

Sam grinned and bowed. “You’re fast. Sam from Adrenaline Junkies, at your service. I’m gonna have to charge him extra, though. Your girl gave me quite the blow.” He gingerly touched his face, which was starting to swell. It would be blue tomorrow.

Roger returned the look, although tentatively at first, before he shook his head and relaxed his grip on the knife.

Alana looked between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

“Timothy told us there would be a surprise adventure, remember?”

She laughed then. “I thought he meant tickets to go skydiving or something. You’re really good, by the way,” she said, turning to Sam. “Are you alright?”

“Yup. Although he’s gonna have to return that knife to whichever cafe table he stole it from.”

Roger looked at the knife. “That’s going to be fun to explain.”

“Oh, no worries. They all know me down that street.”

“Cool.” Alana returned her focus to Roger. “Um, what’s in the box?”

“Well…” Roger bent to one knee, and her jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

He popped the lid of the box, and a tiny diamond glittered from a simple pewter band. “Alana Renae Taylor, will you marry me and be a part of all my adventures from now until forever?”

Alana shot a mild glare at Sam. “Turn around.”

He obeyed while they kissed again. He wiped the fake blood off his cheek with the dirty shirt, then wrapped it around the balloons and vest into a neat little bundle. Underneath his right pant leg was his spare shirt. He untied it and pulled it over his head. Once he was finished, he turned around. “It’s almost eight o’clock, so we’d better be getting back to where we started.”

“Why?”

“Well, the florist, Cecelia, plays double duty for me. If any of the tourists witness my escapades, she tells them when to come back instead of calling the police. Me and my customers-slash-victims all appear happy and unharmed to explain the whole story.”

Alana cocked her head. “Wait. All you told her was that you wanted some violets.”

Sam nodded. “Very observant of you. What I told her was the colour of the sky when I would be back. Tear your eyes away from your fiancé and my handsome self, and look at the sky.”

Sure enough, the amber sky had faded to a darkening blue with hints of lavender.

“By the time we get down there, it’ll be violet.”

[ancientwastedlores]

The Support System (Ch: 6)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Find this chapter on AO3 here. This chapter is mostly soft Loki and some badass Y/N. 

AO3: The Support System Tumblr:  Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 

Warnings: N/A Audience: general.

______________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 6:

It’s very obvious to the rest of the Avengers that Loki only started watching Doctor Who with you so he’d get to spend the night in your bed. You know it too, but understand that he would spend it in anybody else’s room but his, because being alone at night haunts him. If someone else wanted to something about it, they would, and if they don’t, they don’t get to give their opinion about it.

And they know you aren’t about to listen either, so they keep shut.

The rest of the week passes like usual, with Loki sleeping in your bed and Tony playing concerned father and quippy teen at the same time. Then arrives the morning when you have to leave.

You wake up and don’t find Loki next to you as usual. You take advantage of the space and stretch, moaning loudly. You feel like you’ve cracked every single joint in your body, and sit up. You keep sitting, making a mental list of the things you need to prepare before leaving.

The dealers were expected at the secret venue at 7 in the evening, but Tony, being Tony, insisted the team get there a full 12 hours earlier. Natasha rolled her eyes and tried to convince Tony that two hours would be enough, but he wouldn’t budge.

The cars would leave at 6 AM. You look at clock and see you have a full hour before leaving.

 The door opens, and Loki enters with a tray.

‘What! Aww, Loki’ you laugh. ‘I thought you could use a breakfast in bed before heading out’ he grins as he walks to your bed, ‘I made it myself’ he exclaims proudly, placing the tray on your lap.

Well, there was no doubt about that. It was a plate full of fruits, a bowl of cornflakes, and some toasted bread. You were looking forward to digging into some pancakes and bacon before heading out to a gruelling mission, but the excitement in his eyes makes you abandon the thought completely.

You smile and ask him to sit and share the food. He obliges.

‘So you’re coming round to the idea of me going’ you tease. ‘What’s the matter, find another Doctor Who fan?’

He looks severely offended and you immediately regret saying it. ‘I was only joking. Thank you for doing this, it’s lovely’.

His expression softens, and then he reaches into his pocket.

‘I know you’ll be fine, but I did take the liberty of an extra precaution’ he produces a small rectangular object, no larger than a fingernail. It’s silver, and has odd markings on it that glow green, and attached to a chain.

You start to protest because amulets are absolutely the kind of thing you’re against, when he clutches your arm. ‘Please’ he pleads. ‘It makes no difference to you, since you don’t believe in it, but for my peace of mind?’

‘Loki, if I wear that, and something does happen, you’ll blame yourself for the amulet not working properly’. ‘No, I promise, quite the opposite…’ he unclasps the chain, ‘I’ll know I did everything I could, and you died because you did something stupid’.

You laugh. ‘Fair enough. You promise you won’t start beating yourself up?’

‘I swear on my honour’ he says, putting the chain around your neck. You tuck the amulet under your shirt, knowing if Natasha and Clint ever saw it, they would never let you live it down. You talk for a while longer while finishing up your breakfast, and then Loki leaves so you can change.

xx 

‘Good luck, kiddo’ Tony slaps your arm. ‘Give ‘em hell’. ‘Thank you’ you give Tony a small salute before getting into the car with Maria Hill, Clint, Natasha, and Sam Wilson.

xx

T-3 hours to the expected time of arrival of the dealers. You’re leading a group of ten agents, and everyone is already in position. You’re sitting, leaning against the wall with your group, circling a finger over your bullet proof vest which hides the amulet Loki gave you.

Ridiculous, you think. But nice. You smile.

‘What is it?’ an agent asks, seeing your smile.  ‘What? Nothing. Shush’ you say.

Natasha’s voice comes on the earpiece: ‘If anyone tells Tony this, they’re fired, but the convoy is here’.

You smile, knowing Tony would gloat for ages if anyone told him the convoy reached earlier than expected.

‘Alright gang, up up’ you stand up, and help a few up since they’re carrying heavy guns. ‘Look sharp, and if you find something weird, for god’s sake, don’t touch it. We got Thor for that’.

You put your helmet on and take a deep breath, waiting for instructions.

 You hear the dealers come in, boxes being dragged across the floor, clicks of guns and clanging of metals.

‘Where’s the Vibranium?’ a voice comes. Someone mumbles something in another language.

‘He’s saying there’s another truck coming’ Natasha’s voice comes. ‘Nobody move until every single one of them is in the room and the door is shut’.

You nod at the rest of your team to ask if they understand. They nod back.

You return your eyes to the group that has just entered. You look up, just to scope the room, and spot a figure move.  

‘Yo’ you whisper as low as you can, ‘did anyone see that?’ ‘What the hell is that’ Clint’s voice comes over the ear piece. ‘Oh, if that is who I think it is…’ Sam’s voice comes. ‘Ssshh’ you hiss. ‘Wait’. ‘Did you just shush me, don’t ever…’ ‘Ssshhh!!' you, Clint, and Nat say in unison. 

It’s a grave situation, but you can’t stop yourself smiling before returning your attention to the back of the room. The tall figure is still moving, shooting something that makes no noise.

‘For god’s sake’ you hear Sam’s disgusted voice. ‘It’s the spider kid’.

You inwardly groan. You thought Tony would have told him to stay away.

‘Tell me he isn’t our responsibility, please’ Sam says. ‘If you want to die at Tony’s hands, sure’ you say. ‘Stark put a comms system in his suit, someone tell Stark to get him out’. ‘We aren’t carrying cell phones. And we don’t know how he got in in the first place’ Nat says. ‘Let it just play out’.

You sigh.

You wait a while longer, and the ‘other’ truck arrives. After all the contents are loaded in the room, there’s a spat about payment, and then the truck guys clear off. The one you assume is the leader shuts the doors and walks over to one of the crates with a crowbar.

‘Hold it…’ Nat says.

You stretch an arm out to inform your team to stay as well.

You quickly glance back up, the figure is no longer on the roof. You dread that he’ll announce his presence at the wrong time.

And he does.

‘Anything here for me?’ you hear Peter shout. The dealers all cock their guns and turn around to point it at him. ‘NOW’ Nat shouts over the comms.

You put your arm down and your team moves out, guns pointed at the dealers. From the right, Clint’s team enters. From the left, Natasha’s. Thor is on the balcony-like structure upstairs, looking over the whole congregation. Maria and Sam come from the North side. You have them surrounded.

‘Whoa, no way, you guys came!’ Peter exclaims. ‘Get outta here, kid’ you yell. ‘No way, let me help, I can help’.

You roll your eyes.

‘Ay, what the hell is going on’ one of the men say. ‘Put your weapons down’ Nat shouts. ‘Turn over everything you have’. ‘Yeah, that’s not happening’ the man laughs, removing a cylindrical object and throwing it on the ground, creating a force field around his own group, also trapping Peter.

You look up at Thor. He’s already swinging his hammer and aiming it at the force field; it hits its mark and the shield breaks so your team can move in.  

A fight ensues, with you managing to dodge most of the attacks, while also grabbing onto some of the new tech the dealers have left lying around to use it.

‘This is so cool!’ Peter yells, swinging from wall to wall, pinning dealers to the walls with his webs. Okay, maybe he is helping a little.

 You manage to get every single one of them, either knocked out or pinned to the wall. Sam celebrates by slyly putting some of the new guns in his holster. You laugh and yell that you can see him, and he yells back ‘You see NOTHING’.

Peter is just gushing over what just happened. ‘I didn’t know you guys were coming, this is so cool, I’ve always wanted to be part of a strike team!’ ‘Peter…’ you start. ‘And, and look at this gear, wow can I try that gun, I swear I’ll be careful…’

You take off your helmet. ‘PETER’.

‘Oh’

He sees your face. ‘Oh h-hey I didn’t know it was you, hi’.

You sigh, remembering his crush on you. ‘You’re in way over your head’. ‘Mr. Stark says the same thing, you know, I’m much more capable…’ ‘Thank you for your help’ you say sternly. ‘I’ll inform Mr. Stark you did a great job today. But you have to go now’.

His eyes twinkle. ‘You’ll tell him I did good? Will you tell me what he says? Do you have my number? You can just text me what he says…’

‘Peter, honey, Tony has your number’. ‘RIGHT. Yes, he does. Okay. Bye!’ he shoots a web to the ceiling and goes out of the broken skylight you hadn’t noticed before.

Everyone else is putting weapons back in crates, while the Avengers are talking at the middle of the room. You walk over to them. ‘Hey’.

‘How’d you get him to leave’ Sam asks. ‘I just said he did good’ you shrug. ‘We’re sure these guys haven’t made any calls?’

Clint holds up a little device. ‘Blocks out any outgoing and incoming calls within a 2km radius’ he grins.

xx

Stark’s trucks arrive and the men get out to help load the crates in. Natasha and Hill oversee the operation, while Sam and Thor are in some conversation, and Clint helps you aid the wounded S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

While you bandage a woman’s arm, Clint walks over to borrow a pair of scissors. You hand it to him, and kneels down next to you.

‘Blink twice if you need help’ he says. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘You and Loki’. You sigh, frustrated. ‘We’re friends’. ‘I’ve been under his control. It’s easy to not understand the difference’. ‘Clint, he doesn’t have any way of controlling me, okay?’ ‘You just look badly beat up’.

You finish bandaging the woman and she thanks you. You smile at her and stand up. ‘I appreciate your concern, I really do. And thank you for asking. But there really is nothing to worry about. I decided to give him a chance, and I think all of you should too’ you pat him on the back and walk towards where the trucks are.

‘Hey, the last of the crates are loaded, I’m just calling Stark’ Hill informs you. You nod and she leaves, her phone in hand. ‘Off to Dubai, then. It’s a long ass flight’ Nat says. ‘When are we leaving? I hope we land at night, it’s beautiful’ you say, remembering your time there ‘I think we can manage that’ she grins.

After the driver calls something out to her in Russian, she responds and hits the side of the truck next to her twice. The engines start and the line of trucks head out to the Avengers Tower.

‘We follow through; can you get the team into the cars?’

You nod and rush back in, ‘Ya’ll got five minutes, get your asses in those cars’ you call out. ‘Anyone who needs medical attention, yell’.

One person from the corner of the room yells.

You turn to Natasha. ‘I’ll take him to the Tower and drop him off, get a new guy, and meet you at the jet’. ‘You sure?’ ‘Yeah. Save me a good window seat’. ‘You got it’ she smiles and sits in the car.

The rest of the group files in, and you’re left with a large black BMW. You haven’t driven in a while, but the car has sirens, so you hope people will just get out of your way. ‘Okay mate, what’s your name’ you ask, as you pick him up. ‘Paul’ he chokes out. ‘Paul. Well, Paul, have you ever been inside the Avengers Tower?’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re in for the pampering of your life, if you manage to stay with me till the ride there, Paul’ you help him into the backseat of the car, and buckle him in. You run to the drivers’ side, get in, and flip the sirens on, driving at top speed to the Avengers Tower.

You make a call while rushing through the streets of New York. Over the bluetooth - ‘Hello?’ ‘Tony! Okay, I’m bringing over Paul, he was hurt badly in the fight…’ ‘Yup, Nat told me, med crew is already at reception’. ‘Excellent, I also need you to keep a S.H.I.E.L.D agent ready for me to take as a replacement’. ‘Also downstairs waiting, with full gear’. You just love this man. ‘You’re awesome, Stark’. ‘I know, kid. See you soon’ he hangs up.

You pull up to the entrance of the tower and the med crew rushes to help Paul out of your backseat, which is covered in blood.

Fortunately, Tony also has another car waiting for you.

This man is on another level, you think, chuckling.

‘Take care Paul!’ you yell. He gives you a thumbs up.

The new recruit comes up to you. ‘Hi, I’m Sean’ ‘Hello, Sean. Get in, we’ll talk’

He gets into the new car and you’re about to get in as well when you hear your name called out and turn around. It’s Loki.

‘Hi! I have to leave…’ He comes up to you and gives you a hug. ‘I forgot to give you a hug before you leave’ he holds you tight. ‘Oh’… you smile against his chest and hug him back. You’ve removed your bullet proof vest now, so it’s just a shirt. Loki can feel the amulet through it, that’s how tight he’s hugging you. ‘Take care’ he says, and lets go.

You grin and turn to get into the passenger side, then shut the door. Off to Dubai, then.

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Feedback and requests welcome :) <3 Thanks for reading! 

[sheewolf85]

New Fic - Common Grounds

Stretch/Reader - Reader is male Coffee Shop AU Summary: You're a college student who just needs some coffee to stay awake and study after class. Your favorite coffee shop just hired a new barista, a tall skeleton monster. At first, your interest in him begins and ends with how horribly he's treated by the general public, as if he's a performing monkey. You're not gonna let that slide, no sir. In your opinion, monsters have more than earned their right to work and live without humans gawking. The more you get to know him, however, the more you realize there's something special about him beyond his affinity for terrible puns. Notes: Super special thanks to @sansy-fresh​ for letting me use him as a sounding board for ideas for this fic. This would not have been written if not for you. Tags: Insecure Stretch, Barista Stretch, Instructor Blue, Monsters on the Surface, light monster discrimination (mostly toward the beginning; it’s not a central theme of the story), Sort of a slow burn

Read on AO3

Or read after the cut: 

A windy chill brought a shiver to your body, and you huddled further into your jacket as you walked across the campus field toward the parking lot. Your last class had just gotten out, and now you were going to head over to the library to study for a few hours before you went home. Winter was coming fast; it seemed like it had just been summer a few weeks ago.

You got into your green Honda and started it up, turning the heater on immediately. You had to remember to bring your heavier jacket tomorrow, and probably a pair of gloves.

On the way to the library, you kept to your routine and stopped by the coffee shop you always liked to grab a drink to keep awake while you studied. Common Grounds was a terrible name for a coffee place, but it wasn’t like you could ask them to change it just because you thought it was lame. You could already smell the heavenly scent before you even reached the door.

Once inside, you rubbed your hands together to warm them up and got in line.

The place was busier than normal for a Tuesday in the late afternoon. There might usually be a person or two ahead of you, but today you were at least sixth in line and you couldn’t even see the baristas behind the counter.

The person in front of you turned and smiled at you. You smiled back.

“Are you here to see him, too?” they asked.

You raised a brow. “See who?”

They scoffed and gestured vaguely in front of them. “The new barista. He’s pretty good; gets your order right, anyway, even if he is a bit freaky.”

By the person’s description, you imagined a tall, burly man with tattoos covering his gigantic, muscular arms, one of them probably being a heart with a banner that proclaimed the wearer’s love of his mother. In your mind, said burly man was wearing a black t-shirt under a leather vest with typical fringe and was sporting a thick, heavy beard.

After a few minutes, however, it became clear that your assumption had been very, very wrong.

He was tall, that was for sure, but everything else about your vision vanished in a puff of smoke.

The new barista was a skeleton monster, not a tattoo to speak of (that you could see, anyway) wearing a bright orange t-shirt under the typical apron the baristas wore. He was smiling as he spoke to the patrons in front of them, taking their order.

In all honesty, you were really excited to see that one of your favorite places had decided to show their support of monster kind by hiring one of them.

Monsters had been freed from the underground for several years now, and for the most part, their presence in town was pretty much accepted. Your college had been among the first businesses to hire monsters, eager to provide classes on how to interact with monsters, their history, etc. It was part of the reason that you’d chosen the college you had; you were eager to learn more about your new neighbors and how best to welcome them to life in the city.

Not everyone was as keen to welcome them, however, and to this day there were people who treated monsters as though they were lesser.

You realized something then, and narrowed your eyes at the back of the head of the person in front of you. They’d said the new barista was kind of freaky. How was being a monster freaky?

It was then that you realized that several people were watching him as he made coffee, but not in a typical way they’d watch someone with a particular skill. They were watching him like he was a performing monkey.

Your teeth ground together as you huffed out an annoyed breath. The poor guy had to have just started the day before, Sunday at the very earliest, and already he was being treated like this?

Another barista came out of the back and smiled at the skeleton.

“Stretch, why didn’t you say it got busy? I could’ve come help you.”

Stretch? Interesting name.

Stretch smiled as the other took her place in front of the cash register to help the next customer.

“you were on break, amy. i can handle myself for ten minutes.”

Amy smiled amicably and continued helping her customer.

“This is not what I ordered!” the older woman who had just taken her coffee from Stretch shouted.

Stretch took the cup back and glanced at it, a very slight orange tint appearing on his cheekbones.

“uh, sorry, ma’am. didn’t you want the caramel latte with two extra shots?”

She sputtered. “Well, yes, but that’s not what that is.”

“i’m sure that’s what i put in there. hey, let’s find a common ground here, and i’ll make you a new one, yeah?” he winked at her.

“Of course you’ll make me a new one, and this time give me what I asked for.” She straightened the front of her shirt and actually stuck her chin up before she said, “and I don’t want you flirting with me again.”

You had to physically stop yourself from snorting at the idea of anyone flirting with that woman.

But poor Stretch; you felt terrible for him as his cheekbones lit up with bright orange magic. He turned away with a nod, his shoulders hunched a bit as he tossed the wrong coffee and started a new one.

By the time he made it back to the register, it was your turn to place your order. You stepped up to the counter and smiled.

“welcome to common grounds, what can i get started for you?”

“I’ll warn you in advance, I’m kind of picky. Not like that other lady, but...yeah. Can I get a large latte, half vanilla and half hazelnut, one extra shot, and like a quarter cup of ice?”

“so, you want it cold?”

You shook your head. “No, I want it a regular hot latte, but just a little bit of ice. I know how weird it sounds, trust me. I can’t drink it if it’s too hot, but then I inevitably let it sit too long and it gets too cold. But with a little bit of ice, it’s perfect.”

Stretch shrugged his shoulders. “okie dokie.” He read your order back to you and asked if you wanted anything else. When you said that was all you needed, he gave you the total and you paid, then moved over to the other end of the counter to wait for the drink.

As you usually did, you turned around and rested your back against the counter, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your emails while you waited for your drink.

Faster than you had anticipated, Stretch called out your order, and you turned around to smile at him again.

“Thank you so much!”

He paused for a second, his sockets widening in surprise. For a minute, you thought you’d somehow done something bad, but then his smile returned twice as bright as before.

“you’re welcome. have a nice day, sir.”

“Call me y/n.” You held out a hand. “Sir is my grandpa.”

Stretch chuckled and introduced himself, stripping off his plastic gloves to shake your hand. His bones were cool and hard, an interesting sensation against your skin.

Someone clearing their throat made you both look over at Amy who was helping someone at the register. The line behind them was just as long as it had been when you’d come in.

You grimaced. “Good luck,” you said. “And don’t let the haters get to ya. You’re doing great.”

He snorted. “you haven’t even tasted that yet.”

Taking the challenge, you brought the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip. It was hot, but not scorchingly so, and you let the flavors roll over your tongue. Your eyes slipped shut; many baristas had made your drink for you over the years you’d been coming here, and for the most part they had learned how to do it right. You’d never tasted it done right on a barista’s first time. Stretch was now the exception.

“Perfect,” you said, opening your eyes. Stretch’s cheekbones were glowing again. “Like I said, you’re doing great.”

You said your goodbyes and left the shop, holding the hot cup between your hands as you shivered your way to your car.

[andrea-lyn]

I was listening to 'Do I Wanna Know?' (Chvrches cover of Artic Monkeys) & these lines screamed Malex: Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through Crawling back to you Maybe one half of Malex is drunk, really wants to call the other but doesn't & the next day goes to have a sober talk with him about them?

When Michael wakes up, it’s to nearly fifty texts in his drafts. They’re all unsent, but they paint a very vivid picture. Sitting up slowly, he groans as he glances behind him to make sure he didn’t bring anyone home last night after a blackout night at the Pony, but luckily he’d been both smart enough to come home alone, but also not to send any of the texts.

Staring at them, he reaches for a bottle of acetone, because hair of the dog is a necessity if he’s going to cope with this.

They’re mostly to Alex. Early in the night, there’s a few drafts for Isobel (what was w/ ur weird muppet vest the other nite? did you skin fozzy bear?) and then a few to Liz (i need u to know that if u call me mikey in front of witnesses, i will crush u w/ my brain).

From there, it looks like he’d had a little too much to drink and had gone one-track mind.

Alex-minded, more like. 

u know what i miss, i miss the way you kissed my neck

fuck, how come we only ever woke up together once?

i miss you

ilu

They go on like that, and on, and just when Michael thinks that his parade of pathetic pining is over, he scrolls down and finds some more. Grabbing a bunch of his curls in his hand, his only relief is that the messages are all sitting in his drafts, so even drunk, he had some sense. He groans and collapses back on the bed. 

He knows he’s not doing so well, not since Max, but this is a new low. When he hadn’t been able to explain to Maria how his hand had healed, that relationship had grown complicated too, and he’d cowardly bolted from going down that road because the last thing he needs is yet another complicated thing that makes him feel like shit.

His drunk self doesn’t agree, it looks like. 

There’s a few texts to Maria in there, but they’re mostly apologies, the kind of drunken sad ones that radiate regret. He definitely didn’t text i want to lick every inch of your body to her the way that he had to Alex. 

For a few hours, he hydrates and drinks acetone until he feels like he can move a few steps without puking. 

Once his head is clear, Michael has the feeling that he needs to talk to Alex. He brings up a brand new message and texts Alex to ask if he can come by the cabin to speak to him. He sends this one, and this is the one that gets an instant reply.

only if you bring coffee

Right. Coffee run it is.

He drops by the Crashdown to get Alex’s usual and then adds two extra espresso shots to his own order before he makes the drive out to the cabin, caffeinating until he’s jittery. He owes Alex a lot – apologies, explanations, actual lines of honest communication – but right now, he just needs to sort out his head so he doesn’t have nights like last night. 

“Hey!” Michael calls out, letting himself in the cabin. Alex has already said that he can come and go as he pleases, which would be exciting if it weren’t for the fact that he’d also made keys for Liz and Kyle and said the same thing. He’s no better than a friend, right now, which is the bed he’s made and has to lie in.

He can hear rustling from the bedroom and Michael heads to the door to see Alex finishing with his prosthetic, fiddling with some of the adjustments. 

“Coffee,” Michael says, setting it on the nightstand beside Alex since his hands are busy. He’s nervous and a bit frantic, and he puts his phone down on the nightstand beside the coffee because he’s worried that he’s going to press the wrong button and send all those drafts, seeing as they’re open so Michael can let his eyes skim over them to remind himself why he’s here. He navigates back to the home screen, lingering at the edge of the bed, trying not to think about Alex getting undressed instead of this.

He wants to talk about the messages in his phone, wants to show Alex and talk about how much he still wants to be with him, but not yet. Michael decides that he needs a minute to collect himself. He can talk to Alex about it, he can, he just needs a minute. 

“Hey, can I use the bathroom?”

Alex nods, distracted with the latches, cursing under his breath. Michael takes advantage to bolt for the bathroom, where he spends a good five minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror, telling himself that he can do this. He’s here to talk, that’s all. They’re not ending things, no one is walking away, and they can be mature adults about this.

When another few minutes pass, Michael figures that either he’s got to get out there or Alex is going to think he only came over to the cabin to abuse bathroom privileges. 

When he leaves the bathroom, it’s to the sight of Alex with Michael’s phone.

“Fuck!” he can’t help his automatic reaction on the heels of a panicked noise, and the severity and suddenness of it makes Alex nearly fumbles the phone. 

“Sorry,” Alex says. “Sorry, it was ringing and I saw it was Isobel, so I was trying to silence it, only I think it shifted to your messages and I…” Guilt flashes over his face. “I saw the messages. The drafts.”

That wouldn’t just be there. That means that Alex had to go looking for them. “Why would you…?”

“Because last night, I got this one random text from you, and it looked like it was part of something else and I…” Alex gives him an apologetic look. “What you wrote me was pretty safe. It just said something about my mouth, how you missed it when I was reading something and i started mouthing the words out loud. I didn’t really think much about it, because it was kind of really badly typed and I know that you’ve been drinking, lately.”

Understatement.

“Guerin,” Alex exhales. “You’re not the only one with unsent, unspoken words. I just never know how to bring them up.” He gives him an unsure look as he steadies his weight on the prosthetic, standing carefully (with Michael’s help as he reaches out to hold onto him). “Is that why you’re here? To talk about them?”

He nods. “I think it says something about the fact that I wrote more than ten times the texts to you than I did to anyone else. I’m glad my finger only slipped the once, that some part of my brain knew it wasn’t right to send them to you, but I’m here because it also says that there’s something still there.”

Michael’s in pain and fighting grief and it’s not that he wants to use Alex as a bandage, but maybe part of his grief is because of the wound that he and Alex never let heal.

Alex reaches for the coffee and Michael’s phone, handing the latter out to him.

“Look,” Alex says quietly, “when you’re ready, send me the texts. Okay? I don’t want there to be things unsaid between us. Not anymore. I also don’t want you to think that you have to keep drinking instead of talking to me. So…” He reaches over to squeeze Michael’s shoulder. “Think about it?”

Michael nods, feeling like he’s been struck mute. It’s a terrifying ask, but it’s one that he knows will take them to a new level – a better place, even. All it will take is some courage, some honesty, and some willingness to try; on both their parts. 

“Come on,” Alex breaks into that unnerving silence. “Since you’re here, I was gonna clean out the eaves today and…” He waggles his brows at him, tapping his temple.

Michael huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, my alien powers were definitely meant to clean out blockages.”

“You’re here,” Alex points out. “And you brought me coffee. It’s up to you.”

Because Michael is a sucker and because it’s better than obsessing over all those unsent messages, he does stay and he uses his powers to help clean the eaves of the cabin. His phone is in his pocket and it feels like it’s burning a hole, but he’ll figure it out. He even thinks soon, because it feels like he’s sitting on a landmine and at this point, he’d rather it just go off. 

*

It turns out that Michael doesn’t need much time to figure his shit out.

He knows that he’s not automatically healed. He knows this won’t fix everything and that he has a lot of damage to undo both with Maria and Alex, for what he’d done. Still, he also knows that the only way out is through and if that way happens to end with Alex at the finish line, then he definitely wants to pursue it. He’d come over to Alex’s place with coffee again, because yesterday after they’d finished with the eaves, Alex had mentioned something about needing to dig out the foundation to repair a crack.

So here he is, ready to work, and ready for other things, too.

The next day, Michael presses a button and sends all his drafts. He takes immense joy in hearing Alex’s phone going wild with notifications, combined with the strangled sound that Alex makes from the kitchen that tells Michael that he’s read all of them, including the filthy batch that Michael had drafted nearer to the end of the night. 

That smug feeling of victory evaporates when his own phone goes wild with alerts and he sees his inbox:

278 unread messages from Alex Manes

It looks like he’s not the only one with things unsaid. Grinning as he catches Alex’s eye, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

“No more unspoken words?” Alex suggests. 

That’s a promise Michael can definitely make. “No more.”

[milkchu]

❝anyway the wind blows❞ one.

Summary: (Y/N) Mercury’s journey of love, fame, and pain, alongside what would become one of the most legendary bands ever, Queen.

Pairing: Borhap!Queen x Reader, eventual Brian May x Reader

A/N: alright! here we go. before anything else, a big thank you to everyone who liked the preview, i’m really excited for this one!!! yes, this will be mostly based on the movie. next, (Y/O/N) = original name, (Y/O/L/N) = original last name, and also you have a cousin named poppy. alright that is all for now! enjoy the ride. happy reading!

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drinking and smoking

{next chapter}

Bright lights.

Everyone is screaming.

The ground is shaking.

Heart is pounding.

“You’re a legend, (Y/N).”

London, 1970

Cursing under your breath, you rubbed at the top of your head, wincing and glaring the dropped box of biscuits near your feet. Sighing, you bent down and picked it up and placed it back on the shelf.

Looking at the clock at the far end of the store, above the cashier’s desk, it was a little past the end of your shift and as much as you wanted to leave and go have a drink at your favorite pub, you had to finish stocking up the shelves first, not wanting to get an earful from your boss.

Even though you were studying design at uni, you still opted to get a job at the local grocery store, ‘Fletcher’s’, where your only human interaction was with elderly women and on some nights, teenagers who are looking to get shit-faced.

Knowing that your family was already struggling, you felt guilty and you wanted to help pay for the tuition yourself. Plus, some extra purchases, of course.

A full thirty minutes later, you finally stepped the store, and ripped your work vest off and threw it somewhere in the tiny locker room for employees.

Not even bothering to say goodbye to your fellow co-workers, you just walked towards the nearby bus stop and sat down.

While waiting, you decided to pull out your small notebook and pencil, and began writing song ideas.

You brought this notebook with you everywhere. Whenever you thought of something nice or clever, you just pulled it out and wrote everything.

This had become a habit of yours, after your mother had left for some ‘business trip’ around the country.

You were only eight years old by then, and she told you to write anything you wanted to tell her on pieces of paper, and put it inside an old shoebox she gave.

She always had music playing around the house, the lyrics becoming stuck inside your head, so, you wrote literally everything from little letters for her to the same song lyrics over and over again.

Hearing the bus finally pull over, you put away your notebook and stepped inside to finally head home.

When you got home, you immediately ran up the stairs to your bedroom and changed out of your filthy clothing into a new outfit, it was an old sweater you’ve had for ages, but, it’ll work.

Walking down the stairs, and past the small living room, where your cousin, Poppy, was watching something on the telly, you heard your aunt call, “Dinner is ready!”

“Oh, I’m not hungry, auntie,” You said, as you walked towards the coat rack.

“Where are you going?” She questioned, fixing the plates on the dining table. After grabbing your coat, you looked at her, “Out with friends,” You said, with a small smile.

“A boy?” She smirked, looking at you with a knowing smile. You let out a small laugh in response, “Oh, auntie.”

As she faced you, she fixed the collar of your coat, “Look at you,” She smiled, “Give your auntie a kiss.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but pecked your aunt’s cheek anyway, “I’m going to be late!”

“You’re always late,” Your aunt chuckled before you heard the front door open and close, signaling your uncle’s arrival from work.

“Hi dad, how was work?” Poppy said, before standing up to take his things. Ignoring his daughter’s question, he looked at you with his stern eyes.

“Out again, (Y/O/N)?” He asked calmly, but still making you a little bit uneasy.

You gulped, and looked at him with a straight face, “It’s (Y/N) now, uncle,” Readying yourself for another lecture.

“(Y/N) or (Y/O/N). . .What difference does it make when you’re out every night, no thought of the future in your head?” He began, his tone getting louder.

The air immediately became tense, making both your cousin and aunt very uncomfortable. It was not unusual, though.

You looked at the ground, keeping up the straight posture as he continued, “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds, that’s what you should aspire to.”

You walked towards him, “Yes, and how’s that worked out for you?” You squint your eyes at him, before finally walking out of the house.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you sighed, and took a bus going to your favorite pub.

You started going to this pub a lot because of the band that was playing there, Smile. They were pretty good, and had very nice music.

You thought of approaching them several times, but you never really got to do it mainly because you were too shy or you found them a little bit intimidating.

But, you decided that was going to change tonight.

Walking down the stairs leading to the pub, you smiled as you heard the familiar music filling your ears.

Where will I be this time tomorrow?

Jump in joy, or sinking in sorrow?

Anyway, I should be doing all right. . .

Reaching the end of the steps, your eyes turned to the three men playing on stage, the huge ‘Don’t Forget to Smile’ poster hanging behind them.

Doing all right. . .

You walked towards the bar, the bartender asking for your order. “Pint of lager,” You responded.

After coming back with your glass, you thanked her, “Cheers.”

As you took a sip, you turned around to face the band again, your eyes looking through each member, but lingering longer on the guitarist for some reason.

Should be waiting for the sun,

And anyway I've got hide away. . .

You started bobbing your head to the music, and sat down. You ended up staying a little bit longer in the pub, even after the band had finished, so you could write some more in your notebook, to finally finish a song that’s been on your mind for weeks.

After some finishing touches, you let out an exhausted sigh, and started walking towards the exit.

The band must be outside the pub by now, you thought, heart pounding faster in nervousness.

Near the exit, you noticed two men talking to each other on the side, one of them was a brunette while the other had blond hair.

As you passed by them, you couldn’t help but notice how cute the brunette was, he was wearing a shirt with ‘The Beatles’ on it under a dark denim jacket that fit him perfectly.

You didn’t even notice you were already staring until, “You all right?” The brunette asked, looking at you with a little smile.

Warmth immediately rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment, “Sorry, um, I was just looking for the band,” You stammered.

“They’re usually out back,” He gestured towards the exit.

“Thanks,” You nodded, turning around to the exit, but paused, and looked at the man again, “I like your shirt.”

“Thanks, it’s from Radio Box,” He smiled, before his blond friend added, “He works there,” He smirked, before the brunette looked at him with an annoyed look, “Thank you.”

You chuckled, before finally walking away, exiting the pub.

Walking into the cold air, you began looking for the band. Spotting a van that had it’s back open, some smoke coming out of it, you walked towards it, hoping it was them.

Recognizing the guitarist and the drummer from the band, whom you knew as Brian May and Roger Taylor, you stopped in front of them, “Enjoyed the show,” You smiled at the two men.

“Thank you,” Brian said politely, while the blond drummer said, “Thanks, love.”

You looked at the ground before continuing, “I’ve been following you for a while, actually,” You beamed.

“Oh, really?” Roger smirked, before bringing the beer bottle to his lips. Letting out a small chuckle, you began, “Smile.”

“Makes sense for a dental student,” You looked at the drummer, who now looked at you with a confused look.

“And you’re astrophysics, aren’t you?” You gestured towards Brian, who was just as confused, but still nodded, “Yeah.”

You smiled at him, “Makes you the clever one, then.”

Brian looks towards Roger, smiling, “Yeah, I suppose it does, yeah,” While Roger just shook his head at his friend.

“I study design here,” You said, before reaching into your coat pocket.

They both nodded, “Oh yeah?” Roger said, before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah. Also, um, I write songs,” You pulled your notebook out, letting out a shy smile. “Might be of interest to you.”

Noticing the change of atmosphere between the two men, “It’s just a bit of fun, really,” You chuckled awkwardly, before putting the notebook back into your pocket.

“Well, you’re five minutes too late,” Roger sighed, before Brian added, “Our lead singer just quit.”

You look at them in awe, before a smile starts making its way towards your lips, “Well. then you’ll need someone new.”

Brian shrugged, “Any ideas?”

You licked your lips as your eyes wandered to the ground then back to them, “What about me?” You pointed at yourself.

Roger then looks at Brian with a mocking smile, “Um, not looking like that, love,” He chuckles, gesturing towards your old, ragged sweater.

Your smile fell, before you nodded dejectedly, and slowly started walking away.

Brian just looks at his friend in disbelief, immediately smacking him on the arm for being so rude, especially to a lady.

Before Brian could even call you back, you turned around, and suddenly started belting out, “I know what I’m doin’,” Brian and Roger stared at you in amazement.

“I got a feeling I should be doing all right,” You continued. Brian and Roger still shook by your performance, decided to join in with you, “Doing all right.”

Brian and Roger chuckled, before you said, “My mum was a singer herself, used to tour and everything. I guess her skills were passed down to me.”

“I’ll consider your offer.” You smirked, before walking away from the two, slack-jawed men.

Brian and Roger look at each other, still shook by your performance, they both nodded in agreement.

“Uh, do you play bass?” Brian calls out to you.

You turned around,

“Nope.”

tagging; @icantgetnorelief // @b-hardys // @spideyyypeter

atwb taglist; @yoonlatte // @geek-and-proud // @everything-you-dont-wanna-be // @itsametaphorbriansblog // @marequeenii // @ladylannisterxo

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 14

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Writer’s note: This is mostly a filler chapter, but there’s a few fun things in it and a tiny progression of story! This chapter gave me such fits for days. My muse must have went on vacation for several days and finally returned yesterday. Hope everyone enjoys!

She wanted to stay mad at him. She wanted to stew in anger over the broken promise and the assumption she wanted to give up on their marriage. But she just…couldn’t.

Hiccup was an idiot, but he was her idiot. There was no denying at this point that she wasn’t just performing her wifely duties. No, she truly cared for the clumsy dork.

After the two near-death experiences in the last few days, Astrid decided to step up weapons training. It wasn’t particularly natural for Vikings to use their left hand, but Astrid saw some benefit for learning to wield a weapon with the lesser used appendage.

Hiccup voiced some doubt, but he followed her direction. The longer they sparred, the more Astrid noticed how different Hiccup’s movements were. Precise. A solid hold. Swift defense. He was actually...good.

Astrid stared at his left hand as they paused for a break. A scene from their bedroom flashed into her memory. He always used his left hand to write or draw. After a moment’s thought, it hit her that she’d seen him use his left hand to swing a hammer as well in the forge.

“Why has it taken me this long to figure it out?”

Hiccup looked at her curiously. “Figure what out?”

“Your left hand is your strong hand.”

A sheepish expression crossed his face. “You noticed that, huh?”

Astrid caught the inward shame he must have been feeling. “Yes. There’s nothing wrong with that, Hiccup. It’s another thing that makes you, you.”

The relief was visible throughout his whole body. “Thanks, Astrid.”

***

“So, how is he in bed?”

Astrid snapped her head up as she replaced a shield on the stand. Just because she was sitting out of training for a few days didn’t mean she couldn’t help out. Her eyes were wide as she faced Ruffnut. “What?”

“How’s Hiccup in the sack? I bet he at least inherited something from Stoick the Vast,” Ruffnut elbowed her, suggestively, “if you know what I mean.”

A disgusted grimaced twisted Astrid’s lips. “Eww, Ruff! That’s a thought I could have lived without.”

Tossing a hammer carelessly into the wooden storage box, Ruff rolled her eyes. “At least give me some kind of hint on the Hiccup Haddock experience.”

Astrid held off replying as she fiddled a little too long with straightening the shields. “There’s not much to say.”

Ruffnut gasped as her eyes lit with realization. “You two haven’t done it yet!”

If Astrid could have died from mortification, she would have fell flat out right there. She clapped a hand over Ruff’s mouth, flicking her eyes to the teen boys close by. “Don’t say that too loud.”

Ruff casually discarded Astrid’s hand, revealing a sly grin. “What’s the deal then? Hiccup couldn’t lift it?”

The far-too-personal question irritated Astrid, but she was glad Ruff had lowered her voice.

“No, nothing like that.” Astrid frowned. She couldn’t believe she was about to admit this to Ruffnut Thorston, of all people. “We got thrown into this marriage with no experience or prior affection for each other, at least on my end,” she added, knowing full well that Ruffnut had observed Hiccup’s crush on her beforehand. “We want to take it slow. Get to know each other before we hop into anything like that.”

“But you have kissed him, right? Tell me you’ve kissed this boy!” Ruffnut shook Astrid’s shoulders, dramatically.

“Yes!” The sudden warmth heating her cheeks made Astrid duck her head as she escaped the other girl’s hold. “We have kissed, and--” The caress of Hiccup’s hand scorched her waist and sped up her heart. She wished he would gain the courage to touch her other places. “We’ve cuddled and sometimes held hands.” The last two were a bit of an exaggeration, but to Astrid, the little physical affection they’d had so far felt massive to her.

“Awww…” Ruffnut tilted her head, melting as if she’d just seen a cute little bunny. “Aren’t you two adorable.” She straightened up, slapping Astrid’s back. “Whenever you two get to the,” she made a clicking noise with her tongue and winked, “tell me everything.”

***

“Where’d you disappear to after training?” Astrid asked as Hiccup walked through the front door. She’d come home earlier to begin their evening’s supper of potato and yak stew, snagging the cooked meat from a vendor on the way home. “Gobber was not pleased you dodged work.”

“He’ll get over it. I’ll put in a extra hours tomorrow,” Hiccup blew off quickly. He shrugged a shoulder. “I went for a walk in the forest,” 

Astrid arched an eyebrow at his hand suspiciously behind his back. “What are you hiding?”

Hiccup grinned and presented her a powder blue flower. “Evening, Milady.” At first, he looked rather suave as he gave a slight bow, but when Astrid could only stare at the flower, his confident demeanor began to falter. “I saw it and it reminded me of you. I don’t even know if you like this sorta thing. I probably should learn if you do or not since you are my wife and all. And husbands give their wives things. Right?”

He was rambling, and it was all because of her speechlessness. Being called someone’s wife still held a small amount of disbelief for her.

Astrid shook herself out of whatever it was that had her. He’d keep going if she didn’t stop him. “It’s fine, Hiccup. I like it. Thank you for the flower,” she smiled sincerely as she accepted the blue flower. She caught the sigh of relief that pulsed Hiccup’s upper half.

“Oh!” Astrid carefully set the flower down on the kitchen table and retrieved a book. “Gobber wanted me to give you this.” She plopped the book in Hiccup’s waiting arms. “Read it. His orders.”

Hiccup skimmed over the title. His mouth formed an ‘O’ as his eyes lit up. “The Book of Dragons! Perfect!”

He tugged off his vest and tossed it onto the hook next to Astrid’s axe. He was in such a hurry he didn’t notice he’d completely missed the hook and the vest had fallen in a furry lump on the floor. Astrid watched Hiccup dash up the stairs, shaking her head at his enthusiasm. Only Fishlegs could mirror such excitement over reading a book.

Astrid contemplated leaving the vest there for him to pick up, but she sighed and picked up it anyways. Under the vest was Hiccup’s notebook lying face down. Must have fallen out his pocket. She picked up the notebook and was about to close it when the sketch on the open page caught her interest.

A dragon she didn’t recognize spread across two pages. It was symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing in an observational way. All except one part if it. The left tail fin was gone, charcoal smudged on the page as if it’d been rubbed away.

Astrid’s brow knitted together. Where’d Hiccup get an idea to draw this dragon? Was it a species he’d conjured up, or a theoretical drawing of one that exist? She slapped the notebook shut with one hand and slipped it back into his vest pocket. The pot of stew needed tending to. The question would have to wait.

@martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @justatranquilcloud  

[krugerevengeinej]

When the Water Begins to Recede Ch. 4 - Feathers

Synopsis | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took me so long to get up I’ve been a bi preoccupied with school. It is another Kaz chapter but I’m not really going to be alternating any specific way, though you can expect the next chapter to be from Inej’s pov. Anyways I hope you like it ad let me know what you think as always!

Desc: Kaz has underestimated the difficulty of navigating the troubled waters of Ketterdam since Pekka’s departure and things are just now beginning to pick up. Inej is stuck in the city for a while while she works to track down the ship that wrecked her crew and she and Kaz finally get a few quiet moments together.

Song inspo: Me and My friends Are Lonely - Matt Maeson, Drop The Game - Flume & Chet Faker

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Kaz was frustrated. He might have been a million other things considering the gruesome state Roeder had been returned in, even worse was that the boy was still alive. A pulse beat at his throat, and his chest still rose and fell with every weak breath. The Dime Lions—that was clearly who it had been, hence the dimes in the eyes, leaving him alive, even clinging to death’s door in this state had been a shock.

               It wasn’t like Kaz hadn’t seem similar things before. Members of gangs had been kidnapped and tortured and thrown back to their masters with tongues and other limbs removed, likely to keep them from telling what had happened. They rarely survived long enough to put a pen to paper if they kept their hands either. Yet the only thing Roeder had been missing was his eyes, his dignity, and a few teeth from a brutal beating he’d received.

               It had still been useless to try and ask him anything because within a few minutes his weak pulse had begun to fade. Someone might have shouted for a medik, but there were none nearby good enough to keep him breathing. Zenik would have been particularly useful in this kind of situation and wished he could call upon the heartrender, but she wasn’t even in Kerch anymore.

Kaz wasn’t even sure who would mourn for the boy besides a few fellow Dregs. If even that. He hadn’t been the most sociable type, after all that would have been a poor quality for a spy. People who liked to talk were always more inclined to spill secrets no matter how hard they tried to resist the temptation.

               Kaz cared in his own strange way. Roeder had just been starting out as his spider and while he couldn’t compare to the Wraith, he was doing well at it. Kaz was glad he hadn’t been working long enough to get any vital information, now that anything he gathered was surely turned over to the remnants of the Dime Lions.

            Kaz had been considering sending him to spy around Vellgeluk and see what he could pick up about the brothel owners that frequented the island and its auctions.  Examining the boy’s body as it had begun to grow cold, Kaz silently thanked any gods that might be listening he hadn’t sent Roeder on that job.

               A few boys had carried the body away, all with solemn faces, more for the foreboding of message they’d been sent than the death itself. Death was common in the barrel, people were shot, stabbed, mugged, raped and beaten to death on the daily. Those who had been here the longest grew accustomed to the most gruesome things that life had to offer, driven by lust, greed, anger and just general cruelty, humans did horrendous things.

                But this, symbolic, garish and brutal, was the real beginning of a gang war. It was something that had been inevitable since the second Kaz gotten Pekka Rollins down on his knees, begging for his son’s safety. And he knew that but anticipating something was so vastly different than being prepared for it. Months, it had been, and he still felt stuck in the middle of something, out of his depth and often found himself lacking something he couldn’t identify.  

                He’d been in this city long enough to have survived gang wars, and there was always ugly aftermath for everyone, from common street rats to the biggest bosses, even merchers who made deals with the wrong men. But even those were small-scale. This was full-blown regicide, people were fighting for the crown of an heirless King, and he was one of them.

                Survival itself would have been difficult for him in this situation not long ago, but now it wasn’t enough for him to just survive. He had to thrive, he had to triumph because this was his legacy. He’d promised Jordie revenge by ruining Pekka Rollins and now he needed the satisfaction of taking the throne he’d left behind, of getting control of his city. That had been his goal for so long, and he was agonizingly close yet oceans away.

                But the city itself wasn’t the hardest part. A new promise was, interfering with the one he’d made to his brothe. It was the one he’d made to Inej. His gang needed him but so did she, and as much as he hated it, he needed her too. Having his spider would be a great assistance for him right now, but she had her own promises. He didn’t know exactly what they were or who they were to, but she had every right to honor them.

                She was in the city again for now, and maybe she could help him. He knew she worried for the gang, it hadn’t been long ago when she worked alongside them, and a few had even been her friends. But she’d still be busy working against Tante Heleen and trying to find leads on the slave ship that had decimated her crew. He would be assisting her of course, and despite the extra work, he was still grateful for it. The stressed, tired and frustrated part of him seemed to lighten at the sight of her, as if some invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She was here, she would be here if he needed her. Even if it was only temporary.

                But that was just it, it was temporary, and the thought frustrated him a bit more. She may be back for the time being, but she would leave again. She will leave again, he reminded himself. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t forget. It would be too easy to slip into a rhythm of routine, start to grow dependent on her, and find himself lost when she left.

                He still wanted to at least try and show her he cared before she did.

                It was nearly ten bells when they’d finished planning for tomorrow’s excursion. Inej would be spying near the White Rose to see what she could learn about slaver ships coming into Vellgeluk, and any other boats headed that way she could hitch a ride on because taking her own ship might not be the most inconspicuous method of travel. Random ships didn’t simply come and go from the island. If you went there, you went with purpose and somebody knew who you were.

                Kaz would be providing her with backup in case something went wrong. Of course, covering up the real purpose of the job, insisting it had something to do with exclusive new investment opportunities. But he would be staying behind in the city and trying to figure out how the hell to find a new spider. Not that he would be telling Inej. He needed someone to figure out where the Dime Lion’s den was because none of their old businesses were still running and it wasn’t any other property he was aware they owned.

                But it was time to take a break from work.

                Now, Inej followed him up the Slat’s rickety steps to the attic. Neither of them had any real reason to be up there, in fact it had been emptied of everything apart from Kaz’s sparse belongings and his bed. Even the makeshift desk had been disassembled, its pieces moved elsewhere. But it was strangely comforting to be up there with her again, and an excellent opportunity for some alone time. It seemed like such a long time since they’d had any where they didn’t have to fear sudden interruptions from his gang.

                They were exhausted and fatigued, but at least here it was secluded and mostly quiet, though the rustle of the barrel never ceased. The largest portion of the attic was completely empty, and the door to his small bedroom was left open.

                “It’s odd,” Inej mused, offering no explanation.

                “What is?” Kaz asked. The two of them hung their coats up and stood in the center of the room. It had always seemed so small when it was cluttered but compared to most rooms at the slat it was fairly large.

                “It’s so early, and somehow we’ve got free time,” she explained. It was true, usually they’d still be out on some job or assignment. It made Kaz feel a bit old. He’d been doing so much more mundane office work lately he was actually looking forward to something exciting. But at least right now he was with Inej.

                “Is that a bad thing?” he asked.

                “Just odd,” she said, walking closer to the window and dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on the windowsill. “Have you fed the crows for me?”

                “I don’t make friends with crows, Wraith,” he said mockingly. She narrowed he eyes at the use of that nickname, but a slight smile lit up her face.

                “If I didn’t make friends with crows, I wouldn’t be friends with you.” She offered, wiping away the remaining dust and settling herself beside the window. It was wonderful to be having such light hearted, nonchalant conversations with her again.

                “Maybe more than friends?” he asked casually. Then added, “and are you insinuating I’m a bird? Last time I checked I didn’t have feathers, and I certainly don’t lay eggs.”

                “You steal my fried potatoes and hold a grudge like no one I’ve ever met,” she opened the window, pulled a crumbled biscuit from her pocket and began tossing pieces to the crows. “And yes, more than friends,” she conceded.

                Kaz laughed softly and found himself staring dumbly at her for a moment. But a raised brow from her was enough to get him back to his senses, and he set about removing his vest and shirt. He slipped into his tiny bedroom and dipped a cloth in the washbasin by his bed.

                He was half facing her as he ran the wet cloth over his skin, shivering a bit at the frigid temperature of the water. Inej’s focus was on him and he knew. She always tried to be subtle, watching from the corner of her eye but he could tell. She’d always done it and it had been tempting to call her out on it on it if only to see her furrow her brows in frustration, blushing despite herself.

                A bit of recklessness overcame him, and he asked, “if you’re going to look you may as well check me for feathers.” And there it was, the slightest bit of scarlet tinged her cheeks.

                “If I invited you into my chambers and began to undress with my door open, I’m sure you wouldn’t watch,” she said.

                “Is that a proposition?” he asked, “and you’re absolutely right. I’m a gentleman.”

                “I think I do see a feather, you must sprout them when you lie,” she accused, hopping off the window sill.

                With a slight smirk he pulled on a clean shirt and a gray waistcoat. He moved to the door, but Inej walked into his room before he could. He considered saying something else snarky but decided against it, sitting on the edge of the bed. The door clicked shut behind her and she strode to the bed, setting herself down beside him, not quite close enough to touch.

               So simple it was just to sit there, in the quiet and dim little room. But he new it wasn’t good enough. Cautiously, his hand slipped into hers and he clung to that little bit of contact, trying to prepare himself for more, assuring himself he was ready. Though, maybe he wasn’t, but he was certainly ready to make an attempt.

Tag List:  @whydoineedtowriteanamehere @celestial-melodyy @literary-nerd  @otherworldsivelivedin @hysteriaas @august-cabin7 @wylansflute @ashleyking03 @thequeenofeveything @the-regal-warrior @sassydefendorflower @jxsperfahey @the-jennster @lonep55 @lupineteddy @gutsgaskarth  @city-of-fae @thewoofster @peach-sm 

Thanks for reading! :)

[oswaldsirius]

Princess

Summary: It’s not a day she enjoys in the slightest and an offer of a distraction is grudgingly welcomed. It’s a night he’s come to enjoy to its fullest and she’s a distraction he’ll gladly accept.

Pairing: Dalim/Liliana

Word Count: 2971

Warnings: Obviously if you don’t know who Dalim is and what his connections are, I wouldn’t advise reading it? This particular one isn’t heavy on spoilers but the warning needs to be there regardless.

A/N: See bottom!

-

           “There you are!”

           Tensing at the voice, Liliana didn’t look up from the ledgers she was sorting. She had tucked herself into a hidden and forgotten corner of the Archives, far away from her usual work space, to remain undisturbed. But it seemed her hiding place wasn’t as forgotten as she had hoped.

           However, hiding from him wasn’t an easy task. Especially if he was looking for her.

           When his steps got nearer, she finally looked up. She was met with the pleasant smile she was used to and she sighed. “You found me, Blanc,” she said quietly.

           The lack of enthusiasm in her voice didn’t phase him for a moment. “Do you have plans for this evening, Liliana?”

           “Yes.”

           He waited patiently for her to elaborate, watching her with that knowing smile.

           Damn it. She’d wanted to be alone tonight, locked away in the Archives until she was too exhausted to do more than pass out when she went home. And he knew it. It was hardly the first time she’d done it on this day and he had other plans for her. “But it’s nothing that can’t be put off until tomorrow,” she said, turning away from him to put away the ledgers.

           “Wonderful! You’ll make our little group all the brighter for being there!”

           She rolled her eyes. She doubted that. She had been out with them before and all that happened was Blanc remained his cheerful, flirty self, Kyle became inebriated faster than any of them, and she and Oliver got to sit there and attempt to contain the pair of them.

           Maybe tonight she’d talk to Oliver about not doing that, letting them both run wild.

           The thought brought a smile to her face, but she knew it wouldn’t happen. Neither of them wanted to deal with a scene so they would keep the peace at the table.

           Brushing her hands down her shirt and skirt front, her mouth twisted. She wasn’t exactly dressed for going out. She was dressed for her work in the Archives. She knew Blanc would be more than willing to swing by her little house to allow her to change but did she want to? She wasn’t exactly going out for fun.

           “My dear, you look fine.”

           It was a usual line from him but this time it made her smile just a little. “You’d say that even if I didn’t, Blanc,” she accused, turning back to him and slipping her arm through his when he held it out.

           “You never would, Liliana.”

           No... she never would. They walked through the empty halls of the Archives, her heels the only sound filling the space and making her realise how late it truly was. How long had he been looking for her? Or had he known exactly where to find her? Had he given her a bit of time to do extra work before coming?

           She tossed the questions aside. They didn’t matter. He had found her and that was that.

           Pulling a pair of keys out of her pocket as they reached the main door, she wasn’t surprised when he held out his hand for them. “I can do it,” she teased, handing them over.

           “There’s very little you can’t do, Liliana. I’m well aware of that but allow a White Rabbit some pleasure of helping a lady.”

           She snorted. Of all the things, a lady she was not. Not anymore. Do not, she thought firmly, stomping on that memory. Maybe drinks and friends were what she needed tonight to combat that. Maybe she would give it a try this year and see if it was better than numbing herself with work.

           Listening to the pair of solid clicks that came from the door, Liliana pulled off the elaborate pin on her vest and looped it onto they key ring. She wore it proudly within the halls of the Civic Center but in Cradle proper she knew better than to advertise what she did for a living. That was merely asking for trouble she did not want nor have time for.

           She let Blanc help her into her coat, swatting away his hands when he tried to smooth it down. He chuckled and held out his arm to her again. “Behave,” she warned him, walking together through the quiet halls of the Civic Centre.

           “My dear, I always behave when I’m with a lady.”

           He did not but he wasn’t hurting anyone so she kept her arm in his. “Where have you lot decided to haunt this week?” she asked, pulling her jacket closer at the brisk spring wind that kicked up.

           “A little place on the edge of Central. The Adult Oasis.”

           A sharp laugh left her. “The what?” Liliana demanded.

           “Most just call it the Oasis,” he continued, leading her down side streets with confidence. “It’s become more popular lately, mostly thanks to the new owner I’d imagine. He’s got everyone in an uproar, coming in from seemingly nowhere to buy a pub and renaming the entire thing.”

           “To Adult Oasis,” she said dubiously. “Why would anyone want to call an establishment that?”

           “Why wouldn’t they? Why, Liliana, what would you have called it?”

           Not that. “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t ever own a pub so I wouldn’t need to name one.”

           Blanc chuckled under his breath. “Logical as always, Liliana.”

           That was her, Logical Leliana. Her lip curled at the nickname. No one had ever said it to her directly, but she’d heard it whispered between the stacks by newer archivists. It annoyed her to no end because she had earned her proper title and to be reduced to a simple descriptor like that? It wasn’t her fault she used her brain when others didn’t. It wasn’t her fault that her skills worked perfectly for her career. It wasn’t her fault that she’d-

           “I’ve lost you, my dear.”

           Sucking in a sharp breath, she told herself not to. There was no point in getting into it. It didn’t matter. People would call her what they wanted but at the end of the day, she was still the only archivist allowed to handle the records Blanc created. That was what mattered. “I’m sorry.”

           He patted her hand and gave her another smile, this one kinder than the others. “You’re fine, Liliana,” he said quietly. “Tonight will be good for you.”

           She didn’t respond to that and was glad he gave her a moment to collect herself. But by the time she had, they were coming up on the pub. “Adult Oasis,” she muttered, eyeing the sign out front. “What was it before?”

           “You know, my dear, I don’t remember.”

           Liliana snorted. She didn’t buy that for a minute. “Are we waiting for Kyle and Oliver?”

           He looked at her, offended. “Liliana, I would never make a lady wait outside for the rest of our party. Surely you know me better than that!”

           She merely looked back at him, not taking the bait at all.

           “While I enjoy our time alone together, Oliver and Kyle should already be inside. I told them to go ahead while I came to find you.”

           “Meaning, Kyle is most likely already drunk,” she sighed. “I swear, Blanc, if he calls me Lily one more time, I’m going to pay every tavern owner in the country to not let him drink.”

           Blanc chuckled under his breath. “My dear, I have no doubt that you would but perhaps you should remind him when he’s sober that you prefer not to be called that.”

           “I have!”

           “Then you might want to accept the fact that he’s never going to remember.”

           Her mouth flattened as he held the door open for her and a rush of warmth came through. The interior was brightly lit and she could hear music and voices spilling out. “Thank you,” she said, slipping her arm out of his and stepping inside. A quick glance showed that it wasn’t full quite yet, but it was well on its way to getting there. Now where were-

           “Lily!”

           Her nose scrunched at the loud shout. There they were and she was going to drown Kyle in his drink at this rate.

-

           Filling a shot glass, Dalim let his gaze move over the bar. They’d made the switch a few hours ago back to pub and business was picking up again. Just like he’d known it would.

           He smirked to himself and tossed the shot back. This was working far better than he’d ever expected. A nice change of pace from the usual. Plenty of people, plenty of information, plenty of ladies. The last wasn’t part of anything but it made him happy all the same.

           His eyes flicked over the room again, barely stopping even when he saw the smiles directed at him. He’d done his share of flirting for the evening, had planned to do more, but a pair of customers had cut that short.

           Dalim glanced at their table, noting again the empty chairs. Normally, it was only the three of them, but tonight there was a fourth chair. Who was it for? And would they be looser lipped than their counterparts with a little alcohol in them?

           For all his drinking, Kyle showed an amazing resilience to even the most subtle of probing questions. The Hatter’s flat stare was encouragement enough not to try, even if he was always polite to the staff. Then there was the man-man? Rabbit? Who knew-himself, but despite calling himself Dum he wasn’t an idiot and knew better than to try to ask Blanc anything. So maybe this final person would be a better source of information than those three.

           It was odd though. The Hatter and Rabbit normally came as a pair, but Oliver had shown up before the other two and slowly sipped at his whiskey while he waited. Kyle had shown up shortly after and quickly downed his beer before Oliver had finished his. He wasn’t keeping proper track, but he’d wager the good doctor was on his fourth, if not fifth, drink and showed no signs of slowing.

           Which was nothing new and nothing he cared about. Kyle stayed unusually happy while drunk, never starting anything and his rank protected him from others trying anything. Or perhaps it was the steely eyed Hatter who kept them at bay. Either way, Kyle never caused much of a scene, no matter how drunk he got.

           Pulling himself away from their table, Dalim quickly plastered on a smile as people came up to the bar. It was easy for him to talk to them, to pull information from them without them being any the wiser. But it wasn’t fun. It was clear to see what the women wanted from him, their subtlety non-existent. Which wasn’t any fun either.

           He was just sending the last away with a smile when he felt it. The age, the magic, both unlike anything else in the whole of the country. Maybe the whole world. Dalim look at the door, anticipating the arrival of the records keeper, but it wasn’t Blanc who walked in. His head tipped to the side as he watched the woman walk in instead. Who was-

           “Lily!” Kyle shouted, drawing everyone’s attention including his for a moment.

           Lily? Dalim looked at her to see her expression pinch and she gestured sharply at Blanc as he came in behind her. He watched curiously as they spoke, or rather she spoke to him, his thoughts tumbling over one another. A woman clearly close to Blanc? He’d never heard of the man having anyone in his life. Who was she? Could she be the weak link he was looking for?

           He watched the pair of them join the others, not missing how she batted away Blanc’s offers to help. Or maybe it was his wandering hands. She quickly took the seat next to Oliver, putting her in full view for him. Too far across the room to make out details on her just yet. But that was fine. She’d come to him eventually, they always did.

           Keeping one eye on the table, he kept working, filling orders as they came. He barely paused at their table’s order, but he held onto the knowledge of the second whiskey ordered. Not what he expected of the properly dressed lady. But given her current party was there really any sort of normal standards to go by?

           His attention wandered away from the table as the crowd picked up, but his gaze strayed back to it on occasion. Beyond more beer for Kyle, nothing else came for the table. Could she not handle more than a glass of whiskey? He knew Oliver took his time with his so was she echoing him to keep up appearances?

           Questions began to pile up, one after the other and only bringing frustration as he steadily realised he was unlikely to get answers. He wouldn’t have time to get them later either. His days, mornings and nights, were constantly full. There was always something to do, always something for him to do.

           “Excuse me.”

           Dalim barely paused as he turned to the speaker, but he knew who it was. There we go, he thought, walking down the bar toward her and feeling his frustration melt away with each step. She’d already given him more to go on with two words. Red Territory accent, western Diamonds Quarter, and properly trained. Noble.

           Maybe, he corrected, running his gaze over her now that she as closer. There wasn’t too much that was unique about her blouse and vest but he recognized working clothes when he saw them. A lot of Red nobles didn’t always approve of their daughters working. So which was she, rebellious daughter making a name for herself or just someone with good speaking habits? “Haven’t seen you here before,” he said, reaching under the bar. “Welcome to the Oasis.”

           Something passed over her face as he said the name before she shut it down. “How do you know I haven’t been here before? Do you know everyone who comes in here?” she asked dubiously.

           “I remember the pretty ones,” he said, setting a pair of glasses on the counter alongside a bottle.

           He was surprised when her eyes narrowed before flicking over what he had done. Normally that got him more of a reaction, usually a pleasant one. “I see,” she said quietly before moving on. “I need another round for the table.’

           “Anything for you. One of the girls can bring it for you but I’d like to celebrate your first visit before you go.”

           She’d started to turn away and paused. “Really.”

           Oh, she was going to make him work for this was she? That was fine. More than fine. He could turn it up for her. Pouring a pair of shots, he nudged one toward her and took the other. “Hard to come by,” he said, turning the bottle so she could see the label.

           “And expensive,” she muttered.

           “Not many turn down free, expensive drinks,” he said when she didn’t move.

           “Why would I accept free, expensive drinks from someone I don’t know?”

           “Of course. How could I forget?” Dalim pressed a hand to his heart and gave her a bow, not spilling a drop of the whiskey. “My name’s Dum, and welcome to my Oasis.”

           Deep green eyes were studying him as he straightened and, while he was used to women staring, he had the distinct impression she was seeing more than he wanted her to. Or she was trying at least. But she took the shot glass.

           Leaning his hip against the bar, he gave her a smile. “Do I get the pleasure of your name? Heard the good doctor call you Lily earlier.”

           That got a reaction; indignation and anger lit up those dark eyes immediately. “Only because he’s drunk and lacks the proper concern for his life.”

           The smile that came to his face was utterly delighted and he almost laughed at how tartly she had said it. “Not Lily then,” he conceded. “So….?”

           She didn’t want to tell him, but that want was warring with the good Red Territory manners she had surely been raised with. So he waited. He could be patient when there was a prize involved.

           The noise in the bar faded as he watched her, his focus solely on her. She was giving him so much and so little at the same time and he wanted more.

           “Liliana,” she finally said.

           “Liliana….?”

           “Just Liliana.”

           “No last name?” None to give or not telling him? It was a smart move on her part, but all it did was intrigue him even further. “You can take mine if you’d like.”

           She stared at him, aghast, before demanding, “Does that actually work on people?”

           Dalim couldn’t help laughing at her outrage.

           “Does it?” She looked about ready to shake an answer out of him as he kept laughing.

           “Apparently not,” he chuckled, “but then again, I’ve only offered it to you.”

           Liliana was watching him warily and he knew she didn’t believe him, but it was the truth. The words had come before he’d really thought about them and he’d never said them to anyone else. “I see.”

           There was no chance of him saying anything else as she tossed the shot back and set the glass firmly down on the counter. “Thanks for the free drink,” she said, turning away.

           “You are more than welcome, Princess,” he purred, half stunned that the whiskey hadn’t done anything to her and half utterly delighted with her.

           Liliana stopped to look at him. She huffed at his grin and returned to her table.

           Dalim watched her go, his grin firmly in place. Oh. Oh, Liliana was going to be fun.

-

A/N: ....So here’s my new daughter?? She’s only two weeks old and I would fucking die for her. I have so much I want to do with these two already but now that this one is out of my system, hopefully I’ll be able to start poking at the stories I want to tell for them!

[unimpressedperson]

Jackpot | pt. I

(Found this picture in @youthstuffs , thank you for posting it)

Genre: Fluff and Crack, I guess...

Warnings: Mentions of lap dance, boner and ejaculation (it’s not smutty, tho)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x @taesbetch , Kim Namjoon x Reader

Word Counting: 7.6k

Synopsis: Nya spent her whole life in Las Vegas, she would never imagine that local knowledge would ever be useful. However, her vision changed when Kim Seokjin appeared and introduced her to a few friends, film producers, whose needed guidance through Las Vegas underrated places for a movie. She agreed in working for them, and in that moment none of their lives would ever be the same. What happens in Vegas, not always has to be kept in Vegas.

A/N: Heeeeeeeey Nya!! Here is the first part of your one shot (now two shots? Lol), well. First thing first, it’s not a proper romantic chapter, since I used it more for entertainment and slyly making the characters bond, not explicitly making them stay together. It was fun to write and create every place I described (none of them actually exists in Las Vegas, I mean there is something similar to Eleganza & Extravaganza, but in Brazil). I made a bunch of references to RuPaul’s Drag Race, and some from movies (The Hangover, Showgirls, Agent 83, 21, etc). Hopefully you’ll enjoy it, I swear the second part if fluffier and way more what’s expected from an one shot. Forgive any grammatical mistakes. Good reading  xX 

- x - x - x - x -

The air smelled like whiskey and freshly cleaned wood. The slots were noisy and people yelled at them. The red walls and black carpet covered by footprints. Behind a long and wide curtain, a whole bunch of casino tables were in use. Blackjack making the dollar bills fly from hand to hand, trading them for casino chips. Money was lost and gained. People got in hopeful, chances mostly playing against their odds, but still willing to try and gain a fortune.

— Not everyone is Rain Main, though. - Namjoon said whilst looking through the tables, accompanied by his fellows Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok.

— Totally, why are we here anyways? We don’t gamble. You always told me not to play with lucky. - Jungkook held tight on his leather jacket sleeves.

— Do you know how to count cards? It’s illegal. If you get arrested I’ll show up only to mock you in jail. - Yoongi said, but decided to chill and buy a drink, tapping on his back pocket, looking for his wallet, not feeling it. - Shit, I think I lost my wallet with my cards, ID and money.

— You dropped it on the elevator’s floor. - Hoseok threw the wallet in Yoongi’s direction and grinned. - You took an eternity to notice.

— Why did I even brought you guys? Everyone is behaving like underage virgins trying to get in a strip club with an illegal ID. - Namjoon rolled his eyes and stopped, turning around on his calves. - Pull yourselves together, we are here ‘cuz Seokjin told me there’s someone willing to guide us through Las Vegas. It’s a woman and she works here.

— I miss Jin-hyung. He never denied a drink to his pals. - Hoseok said pouting, then getting back to his grinning self. - Is she that clever? Like, we travelled from England to Las Vegas short-noticed, she must be an ace, human map.

— You trust me, I trust Kim Seokjin and he trusts Nya. - Namjoon said and kept walking, looking for the indicated woman. According to her profile picture on Whatsapp, she had a curly brown hair, big dark eyes, with delicate yet strong facial traits. He checked the time on his cellphone, 7 p.m, Nya should finish her shift in one hour, but checking twice never harms.

- x - x - x - x -

Nya was feeling hot with her uniform. Not hot as sexy, but hot in the sense of igniting. Her white long-sleeved shirt was buttoned up, the vest warming everything even more. Not mentioning the constant stinging on her legs, caused by hours standing still distributing cards and, occasionally, trading money for chips. Still irritated, she focused on something else, specifically four koreans lads, dressed in casual clothings and staring around, as if they were looking for someone, Nya knew whom, but couldn’t yell or wave to call, since her manager wouldn’t approve such behavior.

A few months before she met with another korean guy, Kim Seokjin, with his broad shoulders covered by expensive suits, impeccable black hair and sharp tongue. Nya liked to chat with him, and shortly after found out he was looking for a guide to shown places in Las Vegas, affording to pay for the service. Everyone around were trying to get money through gambling, but the lucky one didn’t even touch a slot. Jade earned over US$1 thousand grands for her service.

Not long after, Seokjin contacted again claiming that he had indicated her work for a few friends. Acknowledging how rich he was, then a group of friends could pay even more. Whilst listening to the man explaining who the clients were, Nya was mentally chanting to ‘Billionaire’ by Bruno Mars.

The man sent a contact named ‘Kim Namjoon’. Nya and the new customer discussed additional informations, such as location and time to meet. Of course she knew he could show up earlier to check. Every sane one would confirm.

However, taking an attentive look at Seokjin’s friends, no one impressed her much. They were beautiful, specifically the taller one with lilac hair, Kim Namjoon himself, but also seemed to be a group of penny-pinchers. Great, there goes her ‘Billionaire’ dreams, landing straight on ‘Thrift Shop’ by Macklemore.

Once Namjoon finally detected Nya, he pulled his group of friends in the table’s direction, seating on a vague chair and staring at her, talking politely to the other players: an old lady wearing a thick fur-coat, black hair in a high ponytail and a white man with brown curly hair and using a Gucci sweater.

— Is that a lucky table? My friends here insist in saying I’m a jinx. - Namjoon asked and smiled, making the old lady blush and Nya side grinning.

Hoseok decided to take Yoongi and Jungkook to the bar, leaving the lilac haired man there, but promising to bring him a drink. Namjoon didn’t seem to care, trying to find a subtle way to ask Nya when her shift ends. He wasn’t aware if everyone knew about the side job as a guide.

— Oh, one of my fellows stopped by a few hours ago and played on that same table. When will your shift end? Isn’t that overworking? - Namjoon “casually” questioned. trying his best to sound chill and not psycho.

— Do you want another card, miss? - Nya asked and pulled one ‘red queen’ from the deck of cards, watching how the lady huffed in frustration. - Yes, today I worked literally for two. I’m covering a friend of mine. Thank you for your concern, but my shift ends in… Fifteen minutes.

— Oh, I worked in a bar once. It’s tiring. You should receive extra; - The man with curly brown hair said and asked for another card, completing a Blackjack and hissing in happiness.

Namjoon grinned flashing one dimple, looking at his wallet and casually announcing that he would buy a ‘lucky charm’ (a green drink, actually) before playing and stood up, giving a tip to Nya. Between the bills there was a paper saying he would wait for her at the bar.

Particularly, Namjoon felt stupid about being so secretive, the same did Nya. Behaving like they were trafficking drugs or selling a kidney for the Black Market. However, it also added to the experience of exploring Las Vegas, a Mission Impossible sort of situation.

Oh, Namjoon wished to be wearing a suit to feel like Agent 83, pondering the idea of looking for a phonecase shaped as a shoe.

- x - x - x - x -

— So, what are your names again? - Nya asked walking off the casino door, being followed by the four men. She was now wearing a black skinny jeans, plain white t-shirt and carrying her jacket on one of the arms.

— Kim Namjoon. I’m the one who contacted you. - The tall man with lilac soft hair said, a deep voice matching his very well distributed body form. Nya found him interesting and smart.

— Min Yoongi. - The tiniest one with black hair and round glasses said, whilst checking something on his phone. He seemed a little intimidating, but in certain angles his cheeks became chubby, giving a much cuter air. What a duality.

— Jung Hoseok, but call me Hobi. - The one with blonde wavy hair pronounced, smiling and flashing his small dimples around the mouth. A cheerful aura seemed to surround him, maybe it was all the neon lights coming from every casino and hotel.

— My name is Jeon Seagull. - Jungkook said and watched Nya’s expression switch from playful and calm to confused.

— What? Is that serious? - She asked furrowing her eyebrows.

Everyone laughed loudly, confusing her even more. She never felt comfortable not understanding inside jokes from friends, the brown haired woman felt slightly left out from the conversation.

— No, I’m just kidding. My name is Jeon Jungkook. - He said and shook her hand, smiling and shortly after continuing. - Do you want to know the story behind the whole Jeon Seagull thing?

Before she could answer, Jungkook began telling his story. Apparently the boy with cherry coloured hair used to be an idol in Korea, in a boy group from 15 to 21. When he decided to quit singing dumb songs about girls and conquer his dreams.

— When I chose to become part of that group, the managers decided that Jungkook wasn’t a good name, so based on where I was born they decided to call me Jeon Seagull, supposedly appealing even to fans from outside Korea. - Jungkook said and wagged his hand around. - Well, after years I quitted, graduated in cinema and went to England, where I met these douchebags.

— Is there anyone hungry or just me? I know a place with good and cheap food. - Nya said and glanced in Namjoon’s direction. - It's also very private, so we can discuss my commission and, once again, clarify your intentions, places to visit and contacts needed. Even a girl with good friends requires some checking before confirming.

Hoseok felt his stomach complaining. The peanuts eaten whilst waiting for Nya didn't trick his greedy and quick metabolism. Also, Yoongi was sick worried about some account numbers from the previous project, trying his best to fix finances before engaging in international business, but food and a good cup of coffee would help him think rationally. The men agreed and watched the woman waving her left hand to stop a cab.

- x - x - x - x -

Nya took the group to a small diner. They sat down and ordered some coffee and bagels with cream cheese, as an entrance. ‘The Devito’ had a lot resemblances with Pop's from Riverdale, which itself reminded any 50s diner. Red couches instead of chairs, white tables, everything decorated with vintage chachki and posters. The ambient music (Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi) provided by a wooden jukebox. The waiters and waitress all dressed in white pants, cream and red plaid shirts, rolling around in expensive looking skates (Namjoon was surprised, claiming he could barely stand still in hard ground. Yoongi confirmed telling that the first time they met, they almost managed to get killed by a bus in London, after the taller one tripped on his feet and nudged him).

Whilst eating bagels and chatting about impersonal topics, Namjoon took a sip from his coffee and began the business talk.

— So, Nya. What's your price? - Namjoon asked not looking straight at the woman’s eyes, trying to see what Yoongi was doing on his phone.

— Hm, it depends. - Nya said, brushing off the conversation with Jungkook about Transformers being sorted in Hogwarts houses (Optimus Prime is totally a Ravenclaw, Bumblebee despite of his colours is a total Gryffindor). - See, Seokjin paid me US$1k because he is rich and cocky, but I accept less. Also, I take in count how dangerous wherever you want to visit is. I ain't gonna risk my neck for a few dimes. Also, if I understood it right, then we’ll be together from now til morning, did I get it? Maybe a bit of the afternoon, but since I worked two shifts today, conquered the right for a day off.

— Fair and right. - Yoongi said and popped his tongue, putting his phone down and digging in relief. - See, we can pay US$600 for your job, maximum. You are not going to take us in dangerous places, mainly because we are tracking and trying to rent establishments for filming. I personally don't think it's secure to break in a crack house, aimed with expensive professional cameras, and other cinematic knick knack. At least not with an indie production budget.

— Oh, I get it, but you still didn't clarify what kind of places we are going. - Nya looked at Yoongi, but shortly after glanced in Namjoon's direction again. - Where do you want to go tonight, sir?

— Our new project is rather bold, and sassy, and if you want to use the right vocabulary, then it's also fierce. - Namjoon said smiling, not a large full of teeth kind of smile, but a proud and dimpley one. - We want to attend Drag Queen clubs, stripclubs, bars, cheap hotels and stores, specifically department stores and somewhere to buy wigs.

The woman tried to imagine their upcoming movie, with drag queens, strippers, cheap clothings, alcohol and possibly a whole load of LGBT representation. Yeah, Namjoon made the right choice, Las Vegas had everything they needed for under loan prices. She herself knew people who could snatch someone's face to star in a movie. Differently from Seokjin (who paid for attending comedy shows, expensive hotels, top knot restaurants, he also wanted to meet famous people, and Elvis matchmaker. His movie was cliche, a common romcom), Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok and Jeon Jungkook wanted to go further, know the veins and core of Vegas. Entertainment in it's raw and most interesting form. Nya was excited.

— This sounds so amazing. It seems like a match between Priscilla and Showgirls. - Nya spoke wistfully and with a lightweight looking face. - What's the movie about?

— Well. First thing first, our last project wasn't very acclaimed and complimented by critics. They said the movie was predictable, quality so low compared to previous releases. Deception, that vastly said word really bugged us. - Hoseok took the word and began talking, tapping his long and skinny finger on the cold table material. - After a few weeks thinking and searching, me and our main writer, Taehyung, decided to dive in LGBT culture. Months of writing and studying brought us the golden idea.

“A famous drag queen in Vegas, confident and talented. She spent her life dancing and lip syncing for money bills during night, whilst writing for a local newspaper on the astrology column during day. One night, though, during a show she meets with a drag king. - Hoseok took a sip from his coffee and continued. -  That night changed everything, Moonchild, as we named the character, learns what love is and how narrow minded LGBT community itself is, cuz between drinks and night outs with Jimmy Humble, she finds out he is actually a transman. They also meet a girl working on the same restaurant as Jimmy, and she is a stripper dealing with some problems related to genetics. The story is very angst, fluff, defying… Fierce.”

— I already know where to take you. - She pronounced and drank the last bit of coffee. - Also, I won't charge the guidance with a simple condition: you guys will employe and give screen time to a few people I'm going to introduce. Genius artists with a career slamming on their backs, but poor chances of starring something without incentive and purpose.

Namjoon and Yoongi glazed down at her with a weird expression. No grand service comes for free. Was Nya being serious? Guiding a bunch of foreigners through Las Vegas streets charging not even a dollar? They stared at each other, having a silent talk, the kind of talk only people really close can have.

— Ok, so you don't want the US$600? You are willing to drag us around for free, only with a guarantee that we are hiring a few friends of yours? - Yoongi asked, raising one eyebrow, suspicious, almost suspecting on her kindness.

— Yeah, you got it. - She confirmed and put both hands together on her own lap. - You pay my friends and I give you informations obtained after years wandering around Las Vegas.

— Geez woman, if Seokjin mentioned you were Jesus Christ level of humble, then I'd have brought something for you to bless, or I don't know, a leprous to cure. - Jungkook told between chuckles. - You are a saint.

— Don't exaggerate, Kook. - The lilac-haired man slapped lightly the younger's hand. - But in fact, it's very humble of you. Although, we will still pay for cab and every meal or drink you have. We are not Scrudges after all. Except for Yoongi, he has a scorpion in his wallet poisoning whoever tries to spend more than the affordable.

They ordered dinner (burgers with cheddar and barbecue sauce). Hoseok stood up and had a toast in Nya's name.

- x - x - x - x -

After having a great dinner, and Namjoon paying for her, Nya decided to begin the night by heading to a bar. Mainly because it was near and they could get there in five minutes. Also, she knew who owned it, even though nothing glamorous would be seem, the place could be weirdly welcoming with cheap drinks, bitter beer and mostly mushy peanuts.

The establishment was small. Diego, an immigrant from Mexico, opened his pub in 1991 and struggled to keep it alive, until a horde of hipster decided to use his place as a meeting place, boosting his cashier.

Rustic but endearing. Namjoon felt amazed by how both adjectives coexisted perfectly. Las Vegas had so many bright neon lights and huge bars with overpriced HORRIBLE drinks, yet Nya managed to find somewhere small and cozy. Even though Yoongi complained about how weird the peanuts and pistachios tasted, they agreed on considering it to rent as a location to film, discussing how to fit flawlessly with the script.

The walls were light green full of colorful images from beautiful latina women, contrasting with the plain black floor. Small brown tables with two plastic chairs each. The drinks served weren't diversified, basic and some of them traditionally from Mexico. Kim Namjoon paid a round of tequila for everyone and turned his shot in a gulp.

The lilac haired man was paying attention to Nya, who chatted animated with the owner, a tanned man with a shaved face and big cheeks, bald and skinny, beside his preeminent belly, result of years drinking doses and doses of beer. They seemed like family, catching up on how Cousin Shirley is no longer working for him, because she moved to New York binging graduate college there. Also, Namjoon overheard something about a relative dead after trying to cross the border between USA and Mexico.

Sad. Nya’s expression turned from lightweight and joyful to sorrow. Apparently she knew the dead man and couldn't attend his funeral. Namjoon took another shot of tequila and tried to focus on Yoongi and Hoseok fitting the bar into a scene, apparently there was a moment where Jimmy Humble tries to mingle among cisgender people in a bar, but the result is saddening.

Jungkook was a clever guy, genius filming and editing, but very naive on daily basis. Whilst chatting with the bartender he decided to play arm-wrestling, even though the lady clearly had the task of carrying gallons filled with beer, so she was strong, toned and tanned arms, wide shoulders and a pin-up tattooed on her biceps, the face delicate, like a sunflower surrounded by black curls instead of petals. Beautiful, a very beautiful young lady, whose beat Jungkook three times in a row.

The guide in charge dried a small tear and glanced at the lilac haired man. He was quiet and observant, whilst his friends were mingling and socializing (or like Yoongi, just chatting with someone here and there), Kim Namjoon observed and drank from a huge mug of beer, such as soaking his brain in new visual information, reading the place and absorbing its story and culture. Nya liked that about him, even meeting him for a few hours now, she could tell Namjoon's soul had been around for ages. Hoseok and everyone else were smart, but the tall guy was wise.

— Why did you choose to become a movie director? - Nya sat beside Namjoon and queried, shortly after took a sip on her own beer (“Here mi hija, a treat from Tio Diego. Give your silent friend one too”).

— I don't know. - Namjoon replied, mind still wandering around the bar, asking himself if Tio Diego actually met all the ladies framed around in pictures. - I actually started working with audio, producing music and stuff,  but after a couple years only dealing with sounds bored me. I was happy, but not joyful. So I decided to change a little and start a job with movie soundtracks. Not long after and directing became an interest. So I joined college to study cinema. Now I’m the Captain Kirk of my Enterprise, controlling the british indie cinematography market, and all with my oldest friend Spock, as known as Min Yoongi.

— Interesting. Deeply interesting. - Nya cooed and soaked her throat with a long sip of beer. - Have you never considered the idea of working for big studios? Like, Paramount?

Before properly answering, Namjoon chuckled and took his phone from one of the pockets, unlocking it and looking for something on internet. He passed the mobile to Nya’s hand. Shining under her sight was a movie poster of a man dressed like a doctor, butterflies flying around him.

— Butterfly Voices. - They said in sync, however Kim continued speaking in a slow pace. - Three years ago I tried to get in the selective environment of mainstream cinema. I spent years working on a script worth of Hollywood. My great chance appeared, I held it with teeth and claws. The budget wasn't great, mainly because most people weren't aware of me. After the release, tabloids spread false informations about how much the film cost, also whenever you hit a great public in theaters and become a so called ‘popular director’, critics seems to get dumber. Their criticisms about Butterfly Voices weren't serious, only mean comments on nonexistent things. After understanding how poisonous fame is, I decided to go focus again in producing my independent movies. It's less tiring and weary.

— Oh my god. Is that the movie about the doctor who married another doctor, and after his wife passed away her spirit became a kind of guide, helping him to make decisions and ace surgeries? - Nya questioned and Namjoon nodded quietly. - I cried like a baby when her soul began fading after a psychiatrist friend gave him pills to schizophrenia, and he realised his wife's image was nothing but a trick from his widowed mind. You are a good director.

— Thank you. It's a pity Rotten Tomatoes critics didn't have the same thought. They classified Butterfly Voices as frustrating and merciless, on the edge of a low budget Sixth Sense. - The lilac-haired was feeling comfortable around Nya, maybe the alcohol began kicking, or maybe she was actually chill and trustworthy. - I never really talked about my experience with mainstream cinema. Everyone always looks up on my finances, criticizing and judging how much less money I gain from producing indie movies, of course comparing with what I got paid in Hollywood. I don't care about it. My mental health is a priority, and dealing with popularity amongst tabloids made me have anxiety attacks.

— Yeah. Michael Jackson tried to advise us. Only the fools ignored the King of Pop. - Nya slipped one hand and touched lightly Namjoon's pinky, blushing and watching him smirk with her side vision.

They stayed there, touching pinkies and nonspeaking for over ten minutes, until Jungkook came closer and asked when they were heading to another place. In Namjoon's opinion the young cherry-haired lad got tired of losing to Tania in arm wrestling, even though he would never admit it.

— Where are you taking us now, Nya? - Yoongi turned to look at her with smiley eyes, matching his gummy grin.

— Let me see… What about a bar RuPaul's Drag Race themed? - She scratched her own chin, as if expressing doubt. - Then a strip club where I know a few girls.

— It's a yes from me. - Hoseok yelled from one of the corners.

- x - x - x - x -

— Glamour. EXTRAVAGANZA. Fierce. Bang! Bang! Bang! Yaaaaas kweeeeeen! - Hoseok got in ‘Drag mode’ as soon as they arrived, making the use of every LGBT slang he knew.

— Hobi, I'm telling you this as a friend, don't  overuse your drag vocabulary. - Namjoon said putting one hand on his shoulder. - I don't want to be kicked out a place cuz my friend is borderline offensive when gets excited.

— Don't you throw shade at me, henny. - Hobi replied and poked out his tongue.

— You really made a deep research before writing the script, didn't you? - Nya raised an eyebrow in Hoseok’s direction.

— Absolutely. - Hoseok answered mimicking Gia Gunn [a Drag Race competitor from season 6].

Despite the long waiting line, Nya's contact allowed them to get in before everyone else. The group entered and took a sit on one table decorated with glitter and a menu where foods and drinks were named after RuPaul’s Drag Race queens. Ambient itself was pure glam, with pink walls ornate tiles and frames of quotes, queens, RuPaul herself, etc. On a huge TV screen was airing an old episode of RPDR. Waitress were all in drag, most of them looking like Trixie Mattel, but with slightly less makeup.

— Hm, I'll have the same as always, Peeps. A ‘Naomi Smalls’ with extra ice. - Nya pronounced after asking how the waitress in front of them was doing lately. - What do you guys will want?

— I don't know, this Monique Heart seems amazing, but I'm not in the mood for ice cream and Coca-Cola. - Yoongi cooed and stared down at the menu, turning the page and his eyes began glowing. - Oooh I want a Cuba Libre, I mean, a Bianca Del Rio.

— I will have one of my favourite queen. - Hoseok said and popped his tongue, again, for the fiftieth time in ten minutes, chosing a drink made of strawberry juice and vodka. - Make me an Alyssa Edwards, please. Okurrrr?

— I'm so sorry for my friend. - Namjoon said and rolled his eyes. - I want a portion of ‘backrolls’ [basically fried pork] and one Charlie Hides, I prefer Guinness, but I can have whatever beer it is.

— Gosh, there are over 100 options. - Jungkook pointed out, still paging through the menu, eyes brightening after seeing an Amarula drink. - But, a Bebe Zahara it will be.

— Nice choices. I particularly prefer a dose of Adore Delano with portions of Latrice Royale. - Peeps told and wrote their order in a beautiful calligraphy, leaving quickly right before.

— I loved this place. I’m gagging, bish - Hoseok chanted, smiling so big you could see his molars. - Namjoon, I know we won't film here, image copyright and all, but can we help them out? Announcing their establishment during the movie.

Namjoon sighed deeply and glanced at Yoongi. They spoke again with looks and eyebrow raises.

— As long as they don't charge a fortune to borrow their front door, we can try to get an agreement. - Yoongi affirmed petting Hobi’s forearm.

Nya kept on admiring Namjoon. Everyone seemed so chaotic or worried whilst himself, the boss in charge, was chill and mostly unimpressed, even surrounded by tall men dressed in drag and serving food. How could he not even express amusement to everything around? Wasn't it all different enough? She wasn’t getting paid for guiding them, but still would feel so much better having at least a glimpse of his approval. Jungkook was clearly rolling on joy like a pig in mud, Hoseok after spending so much time searching and digging in LGBT culture, had the time of his life in a RPDR themed bar, Yoongi felt content with good drinks and slowly solving their filming location problem. But what about Namjoon?

Well, he was sipping on his beer and chatting mostly with Yoongi, occasionally smiling and flashing dimples. The neon lights reflected and turned his hair even more purple, also turning Jungkook’s wires into a brighter cherry red. They seemed comfortable, which was great. Nya reminded when some homophobes tried to destroy the place by throwing rocks and setting fire. Eleganza & Extravaganza almost turned into ashes and dust. However, allies and LGBT folks raised money to reconstruct everything broken or burned.

The woman felt tempted to ask for a sneak peak on the script, but they would never reach that level of intimacy in only two hours. Her relationship with them was strictly professional by now, even having fun and possibly end up getting wasted in Las Vegas.

Nya loved her self-proclaimed job.

It’s not like Nya used to guide people around Las Vegas often, actually the first time was when Jin offered cash, in exchange of a sightseeing based on a local point of view. As he said, no one knows good places better than someone residing there. Even not expressing, meeting new clients made her restless for days, always rattling or zoning out. What if the experience end up being a deception? Despite Seokjin compliments, every single one has a different predilection, maybe bringing them to places she thought were appropriate and not regular ones, could go right or could go wrong.

Fortunately, Yoongi cackling and almost choking over Jungkook trying to sip his drink through with the nose, oh small - yet unbelievably bizarre - moment like those boosted her confidence. Nya laughed out loud when Hoseok punched Jeon’s shoulder:

— You better respect this temple, you heathen, RuPaul faithless. - The blonde one pronounced in a mocking tone. - We ain’t here to parteeey.

Namjoon rolled his eyes and slapped lightly the back of Hoseok’s head. They definitely were having fun.

The lilac-haired man was also admiring Nya. As someone living off of a business where, in its essence, who you know defines who you are, watching someone with so many contacts amused him. Although, what actually got his attention was how caring the woman behaved towards everyone, she literally spoke to whoever approached them as relatives. Uncle Diego, Aunt Tania, whilst the waiter/waitress were treat like cousins. It seemed like outcasts from Las Vegas were her family.

How did she knew so many people? Nothing plausible actually occurred to him.

- x - x - x - x -

After leaving the Eleganza & Extravaganza a bit tipsy, one more drink and Namjoon would lose control over Hoseok and Jungkook, so he decided it was time for finding a strip club, since one of the characters worked as a stripper. After jumping in a cab and Nya saying where to take them, everyone agreed in not having more alcoholic beverages until the end of night. As if.

The cab dropped them in front of a very common-looking strip club. Seriously, it was almost comic on how stereotyped the place seemed to be. Teets had a huge neon billboard with a female body traced in red, a huge bodyguard (whose looked a lot like Thing from Fantastic Four, before being turned into a walking rock), no line though. Nya hugged that man and waved at Namjoon and his friends.

— Uncle Ben, those are friends of mine and we need to get in Teets. - Nya stated smiling brightly, one of his HUGE arms around her small shoulders, whilst she pointed at Namjoon. - This is Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook, they are entrepreneurs from the cinema business and need a location for their upcoming release.

— Hi guys, nice to meet more friends of Nya. - So called Uncle Ben shook hands with everyone. Jungkook and his nerdy ass really inquired if everything was a dream or a joke, someone looking like Thing from Fantastic 4, with the same name, but changing everything when “uncle” word appeared first. A punchy Jeon Jungkook looked around trying to find cameras, Human Torch or someone, ironically, named Peter Parker. - Nice to know you guys are interested in using Teets as a location, they could make the use of some promotion.

— Well, we are here and willing to help. - Hoseok babbled and grinned, still fazed by their previous location.

— I’ll let you guys in, but don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to kick your arses out of stablishment. - Uncle Ben sounded serious, and no one wanted to play with Uncle Ben.

Ben stepped aside and allowed them in. Jungkook, who was biting inside his cheeks desperately trying to contain any unnecessary commentary, turned around and said, with brawn and brain.

— We will behave. With great powers comes great responsibility. - Jungkook felt flushed, yet content and relieved. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand almost choked, considering the idea of kicking the youngest one out themselves.

The black hallway, illuminated by dirty yellowish lights, was full of pictures, mostly old Playboy Magazine posters and covers, but a few original pictures from their most successful strippers also existed. Before reaching the main room, where the stage and bar resided, Nya stopped them and turned around.

— So there are a few advices I feel the need to give. - Nya cleared throat, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. - First: don't touch the girls, unless you pay for more physical contact, or they find you cute. I don’t know how strip clubs in United Kingdom works, so better to be safe than sorry. Second: lap dances will most definitely happen, so just try not to get stuck in the heat of the moment, ‘cuz no one would feel comfortable around an unsolved boner.

She swung her weight from one foot to another, trying to gather words. Nya knew a few girls working there, some actually used to be classmates during high school. Old friendships and, just like every other, valuable ones.

— Some of the girls I want to be casted are here. - She mumbled, mentally thanking God for the soundproof walls. - I know them every since high school. Carol studied scenic arts, but never succeed. Whilst Sasha, Gabe and Sharon deserves a better life, maybe a bit of help by appearing in a movie could push their careers. Don’t make anything inappropriate, please.

— Scout promise, Ma’am. - Yoongi made an “X” shape in front of his chest.

— Good. Now let’s go. - She opened the red door and heard the loud music invade her ears. “Purple Rain” by Prince blasting the old soundsystem. - Welcome to Teets, boys.

The lighting was weak, yet a bar with colourful bottles could be seen across the room, surrounded by small teal benches. Tables and chairs were placed around a medium sized stage, where a pole stood still (with a naked woman dancing around it). A common strip club, with a few men sitting and watching the blonde lady swinging her nude hips sensually, some ladies in latex clothing or lingerie wandered around, serving drinks and giving lap dances. All four men tried not to focus on them, finding details everywhere.

Nya took a sit next the stage, watching how chill Hoseok, Yoongi and Namjoon acted, contrasting completely with Jungkook’s behavior. The young man was shifting uncomfortably on his seat, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, if you paid attention could even see tiny droplets of sweat pooling around his hairline, never looking straight at the stage.

Namjoon and Nya leaned close to each other, getting lost in a conversation about how the atmosphere smelled like incense. According to her, the owner is brazilian so he always orders tons of Dama da Noite scented incense (a nightly blooming flower from Brazil) and purposely lights them close to air ducts, making air steamy. The effect caused was a sort of erotic odour consuming and confusing everyone's senses. Gossip says some men can get horny only by the expectation brought by the ambience built around.

Jeon Jungkook was clearly one of those men.

After a few more minutes of “Purple Rain”, Cherry Pop left the stage with a few dollar bills in hands. Jungkook took a deep breathe and relaxed. Unlucky, his whole body tensioned again when another song began and a woman with ebony coloured hair braided to perfection, curvy silhouette made of wide hips and natural boobs covered by a set of black and lacy lingerie, connected to a pair of sheer socks by garters, high heels emphasizing how toned her legs were. The woman's body was so far from being a small frame, yet sexy and attractive as hell.

— Guys, this is Carol, her stage name is Cristal Malone. - Nya cooed in awe. No one would ever deny how heavenly gorgeous she looked.

The air seemed to get heavier and sexier, “Voodoo” by Patrick Paige II played around them, Carol swayed along with the music. Jungkook wanted to avert the gaze and focus in somewhere other than her, but something on how she moved around lightly and feeling every note wouldn't allow him. It was hypnotic, she captured his glare and wouldn't release. When garters were abandoned close to Jeon's eyesight, the expectation for seeing more of her beautiful bare frame grew stronger.

Nonetheless, Carol knew who the guys drooling at front row were, Nya told about them and mentioned a chance of appearing in a movie. Decided to convince of her professionalism, she walked slowly around stage and went down stairs, grabbing dollar bills from admirers and leaving it close to her garters. Mentally playing eenie meenie miney mo, Cristal Malone chose who would be the lucky one to receive a special lap dance.

When she stopped in front of Jungkook and stared down at him, he felt his pants tightening more, but his amusement wasn't showing, the doe eyes were widened and almost jumping their orbits, cursing silently how odds weren't at his favour. She looked even better closer, carved features in a smooth caramel skin, irises shining like black pearls, a thick trace of eyeliner, mouth painted with a lustful shade of glossy red. Somehow, the atmosphere made Jeon smell of sex around. Carol looked at him with one eyebrow raised slightly, sensing his tension and grinned for nanoseconds, assuming her dominant position again. Taking advantage of the exact moment when one song changed to another, she lightly pushed his legs open, following the tempting rhythm of “Earned It” by The Weeknd.

Carol positioned herself over one of his muscled thighs, not sitting straight there, moving hips front and back, left and right, watching how his arms were pushed behind the chair, one hand holding the other. Getting closer and allowing his upper body to touch hers, Jungkook almost passed out. His face expressed a mix of embarrassment, excitement and, deep down, lust. Carol moved a leg to the side, getting off his leg and posing her hands where body was previously touching.

Using the hook between the verse and the chorus, she turned around and sat on his crotch, moving along with The Weeknd's voice.

Jungkook zoned out in the moment Carol sat on his thigh. His mind and body weren't connecting, not when his thinking head felt embarrassed and the down one was clearly enjoying some friction. Rationally wishing to be someone else, bodily drinking from every moment. That confusion made his penis semi-hard, not being able to get fully erect considering the situation. He wanted to melt, but also be there. How would Jeon face his hyungs after that particular show? HOW WOULD HE FACE NYA? Why the song seemed to last forever, yet so short?

Whilst Carol made Jungkook feel a mix of excitement and embarrassment, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok were surprised and a bit jealous. Lucky little bastard. Nya knew the stripper would do it, but never imagined the exaggeration.

The song was about to end, Jungkook sunk down on the chair when an already known satisfying feeling ran through his veins, like electricity. He came on his pants and the combo excitement+embarrassment was replaced by a profound shame. Cumming on his pants like a teenager.

The stripper got back on stage ready to continue her routine of striptease. Yoongi threw a US$20 bill and blinked. Jungkook's face grew redder every second, he turned around and said to Namjoon, stuttering and almost crying.

— I gotta change my pants.

— Why? Oh… - A very flustered and wide-eyed Namjoon held a chuckle down his throat. It was tragically comical. Jungkook had to change his pants.

After a few moments deciding what to do, their focus was no longer on Cristal Malone. Namjoon turned and told Nya what happened, she looked at Jungkook and stood up. Everyone followed her lead in the bar's direction, Jungkook walking weirdly and feeling, almost hearing the spunk sticking to his underwear.

— Hey Abby. - Nya waved for the bartender, a middle aged woman, with greyish ginger hair pulled back in a ponytail, brown eyes and peaceful features. - Do Teets still has the Lost & Found?

— Hey Nya, how are you? - Abby was drying cups and glasses. - Yes, it's in the back now. Close to where the girls change.

— I won't use some pervert’s trousers! - Jungkook exclaimed, hands firmly covering his crotch. - How does someone forgets its pants?

— You don't have plenty of choices, Kook. - Hoseok couldn't look straight at his friends. Even feeling aroused himself (thankfully he decided to semituck his dick), at least he didn't ejaculate.

— See, I warned about what was about to happen. Why don’t you use something from them? So we can drive to a convenience store or 24/7 Walmart to buy you new trousers? - Nya was deadly serious, even internally giggling.

The group began considering every possibility. Jungkook was zero into the idea of picking something from their Lost & Found, whilst Namjoon agreed with Nya, Hoseok defended the idea of gaining a few dimes by allowing Jeon to perform a striptease (“C’mon prudes! We all know there are a lot of bisexual guys around, and a bit more money is never too much”), Yoongi ordered a tonica and sipped without opinating, watching when one of the girls in latex approached and pronounced startling everyone.

— Hmm, I couldn’t stop myself from listening. Sorry. Hi Nya! - Her hair was a wavy and pink, skinny body with thin thighs, using a latex black leotard and knee-high boots. - Is the Jungkook lad someone open-minded when it comes to fashion? One of the girls who quit last week left a few pieces of clothing, and there is a long skirt. She had a waist about his size.

— Hi Sasha. Thank you, if Jungkook is okay with using skirts, then it’s better than nothing. - Nya stared at the youngest of them. - Oh where is my politeness? These are Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and, well, Jungkook. They are the film producers I mentioned earlier.

— Well, it’s better than using a pervert’s trouser. - Jungkook still felt uncomfortable, giving his most sincere half-hearted smile. - Nice to meet you, Sasha. Where do I grab my new skirt?

— Nice to meet you, Sasha. - Yoongi flashed his best gummy smile at her and then turned to Jungkook. - With some lucky, your skirt will match your whole outfit.

— Fuck you, hyung. - Jungkook got even more flushed.

- x - x - x - x -

— How’s the feeling of wearing a skirt? - Namjoon mocked Jungkook, watching him spin around and staring at the mirror, checking his reflection with a long navy-blue skirt.

— Well, my balls and ding dong are dangling freely, it’s a bit chilly, but at least it’s not stained with cum… I hope. - Jungkook was feeling himself and, honestly, enjoying the experience. Also, the skirt matched his outfit. - Although, I still want to buy a new pair of trousers and fresh underwear. Where is the nearest Walmart?

They were all sprawled around in a pink and small dressing room, crowded with one or two girls walking around and gathering their costumes. Hoseok found a few pieces of clothing from previous special shows, the last one was Cabaret themed so dazzles, sequins and feathers were everywhere. Yoongi studied how cameras could be positioned around. Nya was sitting on a fluff couch close to where Jungkook stood, Namjoon beside her.

— I liked here. - Namjoon threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. - Not only the girls, they are gorgeous and all, but the ambience seems appropriate for our movie. Carol is casted for sure, Sasha, Gabe and Sharon are also amazing, Jungkook never felt more pampered in his whole life. It’s quite a lot, considering he used to be an idol.

— They are amazing, I’m happy you guys liked it. - Nya smiled and Namjoon thought it was probably the most adorable thing ever, a sincere kind of smile. - I’m also glad Jungkook behaved so well next to Carol, she played dirty giving him that intense lap dance. He was clearly the most tense.

— Honestly, I don’t judge Jungkook. If Carol sat on my lap like she did with him, I’d probably bust a nut as well. She is hot. - Namjoon was embarrassed after pronouncing such words, but he felt madly comfortable around Nya.

— Oh, I don’t judge too. I’d also bust a nut if Carol ever sat on me. - Nya looked at Namjoon and saw his wide-eyes, laughing right after and watching him chuckles. His adorable dimples could kill someone.

Namjoon got distracted by Hoseok fazed with a huge fur coat which covered his whole body. It wasn't impossible to understand why Nya accepted and enjoyed that place, in contrast with what it looked like, Teets wasn't a regular strip club. There were way too many costumes, from cabaret to pimp or odalisque. The purple haired man questioned why.

— Everyone dreams of something. Most girls working here wished to become actresses, but somehow never reached it. - Her eyes became a bit sorrow, but got bright in nanoseconds. - Fábio, the manager and owner, understood and decide to help them a little. Twice a month their performances are themed. The girls chooses a subject and prepare presentations based on it, so they can play a character. Fábio also always encourage them to create a personality to their stage names. Cristal Malone is a dominatrix, Cherry Pop was inspired by Harley Quinn, Fendi Dust is based on Liz Taylor's interpretation of Cleopatra.

If there were any doubts in regard of renting the place, they vanished immediately.

To be continued...

[sunlitroom]

Gotham – s5e01 – Year Zero

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Ra's saw a vision. Selina was shot.  Jeremiah’s obsession with Bruce reached heights where even Hannibal might suggest some restraint. Bombs! Kaboom  The government declared the city off limits. The city is now a battleground - each man for himself.  Ed and Lee stabbed each other in as sexual a way as possible. Oswald got revenge for Gertrud’s murder.

Jeremiah told Bruce that as Gotham falls - we rise.  There go the bridges. Babs and Bruce killed Ra's.  Everyone stares aghast at Jeremiah’s destruction.

As always, long post will be long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

We open on the city on fire, smoke billowing.  

We can hear sirens,helicopters, gunshots and....

In a wood-panelled library, we hear a record being played – Dame Vera Lynn’s We'll Meet Again.

 I’m not sure if this song is as meaningful for an American audience – but for a British audience this song is inextricably linked with World War Two, Blitz Spirit, Our Finest Hour – doing without, self-sacrifice, and coming together to defeat the worst foe.  Does it have the same associations for you guys?  Just trying to get a sense of their purpose in using it here.  Ed pulling on leather gloves, taking an ace of diamonds and putting it in his breast pocket.  He smiles in the mirror and leaves with a shotgun.

Jangly East European music. Oswald is being made-up by his people. They slide his glasses on, and he takes his gun.

 Harvey’s in what I think is what’s left of Scottie’s bar, also looking fondly at a gun.  Vaguely western music plays.  I think it was western, anyway.  Was it supposed to be Irish?

 In his office at GCPD. Jim puts on his badge. He’s also carrying a big gun.

 Tl;dr – guns!  The perfect accessory.

 Oswald walks downstairs with his gun.  Harvey put on a hat and heads out with his gun.  Jim strides out in a bullet-proof vest.  They’re joined by Ed. Then Oswald steps out from somewhere and flanks Jim.

They line up at a huge barricade.  Jim growls out

Fire on my command.  For Gotham!

The one thing they can all agree on

They start shooting, and what looks like the army fires back.

But we’re not quite at this point yet, and so we cut away to the title screen

 Day 87

In GCPD, Jim is having a frustrated conversation with some government official. Jim is trying to outline the situation to the official, and giving a helpful catch-up in the process.  

The city is now up for grabs.  Oswald has taken city hall.  He’s stockpiled weapons and is manufacturing ammunition.

(An aside – which in itself would require supplies, I imagine?)

We go to see Oswald. His place is all cold greys and blue – chilly looking.  His tailoring, too, is very hard-edged – none of his usual flair or ornamentation. Even his hair is rigid.

He shoots his gun up at the ceiling

Some acolytes, all thin and worn looking, clad in shapeless grey uniforms, applaud him – clearly terrified.

(An aside – Gotham, you know I love you.  I wreck my wrists to type out recaps.  But that leaden reference to totalitarian regimes? That's just plain old tacky. It was heavy-handed and unnecessary and tasteless, and just felt uncomfortable to watch.

In short, no.)

Jim continues his helpful catch-up.  Oswald’s control of weapons has made him unassailable.

Meanwhile, Barbara runs her own portion of town from Sirens – which is the only part of town which is good for food and booze.  She mostly trades information.  

(An aside - What information is unclear.  It’s not like the situation is massively complex.  I don’t feel like this would have a lot of mileage.  Pssst – we’re still all fucked!)

Men can apparently buy ‘windows of time’ at Sirens.  Barbara is said to enforce her rule with an iron hand.

 In the west - Jonathan is doing fuck knows what.  It seems to involve crucifixion and making your own ragged leather outfit.

 Victor and Firefly are warring further north.  Jeremiah has not been seen since the bridges exploded.

 Jim continues.  

Then there's us - GCPD controls a ten block area round the precinct.  We’re feeding 150 civilians: families, children, the poor and sick.

Basically – the weaselly official is having none of it.  Gotham isn’t the government’s responsibility. He refers to Jim as Mr Gordon – and he tersely corrects him to Captain.

Jim asks him to evacuate children at least.  Weaselly official says they’ll form a committee. A weary Jim tries to convince him that the government has a duty of care.  Again – there’s wriggling, and Jim eventually asks him to just admit that they’re on their own.  The silence he receives in return says it all.

Selina lies in a hospital bed, facing away from other people in room: Bruce, Alfred and a doctor.  Her face is flat and bleak.

We hear the doctor tell Bruce and Alfred that paralysis aside, they need to operate before her spine collapses.  Alfred said they tried to evacuate her but couldn’t make it on time.  Bruce asks if they can operate there and the doctor says they have no choice.

Bruce approaches Selina and softly says her name.  This makes Selina start to cry silently.  He crouches down and tells her the dr wants to operate.  She flatly says fine – whatever.

Bruce crouches down

I’m going to be here the whole time

Poor Selina’s face twists, and she continues to cry

Back on GCPD turf, Harvey argues with an angry hungry man who’s getting mouthy and accusing the police of taking extra food for themselves.  Lucius appears and says everyone gets the same share or else supplies run out.

Jim approaches, looking over from higher on a staircase and calls out.

That's enough.

They all look over at him. Jim, it seems, commands obedience and respect these days.

He looks at the argumentative man

You don't like the rules?  Leave

Shouty man backtracks - just sayin’

Harvey tells him to say it walking - putz

We hear discontented murmuring from the crowd.

Jim asks how they’re doing – to which Lucius responds that they only have a month of food left. Harvey fulminates about the lack of support and says he’s never paying taxes again.  Jim thinks the government will eventually do the right thing – they just need to keep everyone alive long enough for that to happen.  Harvey replies that they’re almost out of ammunition. Anyone makes a move, and they’re sitting ducks.

 A snoring, dishevelled Ed wakes up on an old sofa on a rooftop, sporting Sharleen Spiteri’s 90s hairstyle. A dog barks at him while weird, discordant music plays.

We see him now in an untidier version of the library we saw at the beginning.  He’s talking into a recorder.  He seems to be having black-outs and losing time.  Someone get him to draw a clock!

He looks angrily in the mirror

Show yourself - I know it's you inside there, Ed

Apparently, Idiot Ed still won't appear.  Ed yells coward at himself, and says he knows that it’s him controlling him when he’s asleep

He stares back at the map spread out on the table where he seems to be keeping track of the spots where he wakes up – trying to find a pattern.

On the precinct roof, Jim stands next to the spotlight.  Bruce tells him he could ask someone else to do it – but Jim says he likes it.  Bruce asks if it’s because it reminds people that in darkness there’s still light – and Jim says it reminds him too.

He adds that they’re low on supplies.  The government refuses to evacuate people, and is ignoring their suffering.  Jim looks tired.

Bruce says that he gave Lucius permission to scavenge Wayne Enterprises Research and Development – it’s not much, but it’s something.  He then says he has to go – the doctors are going to operate on Selina.  Her condition is getting worse.

Jim listens, and then asks him to let him know how it goes.

A troubled-looking Bruce turns to leave.  Jim calls after him

Are you sorry you stayed?

Bruce thinks.  His face looks determined.

No. You?

Jim replies

Hell no

Bruce smiles and leaves. Jim stares out over the city.

 At Sirens, Mr Penn places a bullet on Barbara’s desk.  She regards it.  He makes an offer

Mr Cobblepot offers 1000 rounds of ammunition in return for 1000lbs of steak

Barbara smugly says the cupboard is bare in Penguin Land, but Penn says Oswald just wanted red meat. Mr Penn’s neck is noticeably narrower than his collar.  Was he always this thin, or is this to underline the idea that Oswald isn’t feeding his employees well?

Tabitha watches all this from the corner of the room.

Barbara continues, saying that Oswald wants to get fat on steak while his minions starve.

An impatient Tabitha cuts in, and asks if Oswald too scared to leave his citadel, knowing that she wants to plant a knife in his neck.

Barbara says Tabitha is still raw about the business with Butch – so they’ll want 2000lbs of ammo in return.

An infuriated Tabitha turns to Barbara and says not they’re not giving that bastard anything – he killed Butch

(An aside - does Tabitha really think Barbara would have let Butch live on Sirens’ turf?  For how long, before she got jealous and irritated and decided to put another bullet in him?)

Barbara wants to trade with Oswald, but Tabitha says no.  Barbara says she’s not asking her to forget – but they need ammo to protect the women who come there.

(An aside - A quick glance round suggests that Sirens can offer food and protection if you’re a good-looking woman of probably 18-40.  The older woman we saw earlier in the crowd of refugees at GCPD?  The young girls?  The mothers who won’t leave their families?  Yeah – didn’t think so.  As @rhavewellyarnbag suggested elsewhere – it seems likely that Sirens is pretty much a brothel by any other name)

Barbara promises her that Penguin's time will come.  Tabitha puts Penn’s sample bullet in her gun and tells him that Oswald will regret giving her this, and leaves.

Barb smiles at Penn, and tells him to make it 3000lbs

(Is ammunition measured in lbs?  Is this a usual thing?)

On GCPD turf - an anxious policeman stares out through the barricade and says he saw something move. His friend laughs it off – but we see a shadow. Jonathan suddenly appears, and sprays the man with his serum through the space in the door

Would you like me to make it stop?  Open this door

The other cop tries to stop him – but the infected man desperately opens the door, and is promptly scythed down by Jonathan.  He tells his silly acolytes to split up, steal, and kill anyone who gets in their way.

Inside, Jim talks to Harper, telling her to reinforce the barriers round Oswald's turf.  The lights suddenly go out.  Jim tells Harper to find Lucius and tell him to meet at the generator.

At the hospital, Selina's operation is underway.  Bruce and Alfred are watching from the corridor outside when the power goes off.  Alfred says hospital has back-up generator, so it’s fine – it’ll all be

Ship-shape and Bristol fashion

Bruce is not convinced, though.  Vindicating this, a nurse puts her head around the corner and says men in the basement stealing medicine.  Bruce goes to investigate and tells Alfred to stay with Selina.

Careful

Jim is at the generator, which is sparking and making fzzzt noises.  He hears a sound, and draws his gun.  Jonathan appears and scythes at him, before riffing on Dirty Harry.

I know what you're thinking….

He remarks that Jim has so few bullets – is shooting Jonathan really worth it?

I mean – he’s controlling part of the city, randomly crucifying people, and now he’s looting and murdering. I’d say yes?  Jim disagrees though

No - it's not

He picks up an iron bar instead

He asks why he’s here – not for the generator?

Jonathan doesn't want light - fear lives in darkness

Oh, do shut up, Jonathan.  Everyone’s trying to survive and you’re dicking about in a stupid coat with a bunch of teenage edgelord prats.

Jim concludes that he came for supplies.  Jonathan adds that he’ll also take his life.  They fight. Jonathan asks how long it’s been since he’s tasted his toxin. That super-scary toxin that is seemingly rendered useless by water, iirc.  

He asks Jim what he’s scared of now.

Not you

Harvey chases some of the other looters down – but they manage to steal some food.

Back at the hospital, Bruce uses the night vision goggles Lucius found in R&D to watch Jonathan’s acolytes roam around the basement.  He swoops in and out, knocking them out.  One follower realises something isn’t going well and calls out for – now, I might have this wrong: Scad? Is that a name?  Is this why he joined this group – embittered at being christened Scad?

Bruce swoops in again to take him out.  Unfortunately, the lights come on and – momentarily blinded – Bruce is shoved back while they escape with the precious supplies.

Back at GCPD, there’s understandable discontent that supplies have been lost. They only have a week’s worth of food left.  Jim tells Lucius to drop to half rations.  Lucius tells them they’re already at half rations – but Jim tells him to halve them again.  Lucius says that gives them two weeks at most.

Harvey starts to rant a little, frustrated.  Bruce appears from nowhere and says that help is coming: he’s going to fly in supplies. Jim reiterates the government line on no contact.  Bruce says he won’t ask for permission.

Harvey comments that it’s nice to have a billionaire around.  Jim’s less happy – and says that it’s only a one-time solution.  Bruce says medicine has also been stolen, and there are people in pain. His eyes wander – and he’s clearly thinking of Selina.  

Jim watches him, and tells Harvey to go tell the people that help is on the way.

Once he and Bruce are alone, Jim asks how Selina is.  Bruce looks troubled. Jim tells him that Selina is strong, and she’ll pull through.

Back at the hospital, where Bruce sits by Selina’s bed.  She flatly tells him the surgery was a success – but adds she’ll never be able to walk again.

That's a bummer

Bruce says there’s only limited resources – but there’s hope once they rejoin the mainland.  Selina shrugs this off.  Bruce says he knows that she’s in pain, but there’s medicine on the way.

Selina regards him coolly and says it’s funny –

Jeremiah shot me to get to you.  After all the things I've done, what did me in was being your friend

Turning away from him, she says she wishes Jeremiah had killed her.

A pained-looking Bruce leaves.

As he’s exiting the ward, a nurse whispers over to him urgently

Doctors can't help her - she needs the witch

Bruce stares.

Back at GCPD, Jim asks Harvey what the mood is.  He replies that they love their Jim Gordon – but that the chopper needs to come.

Back at Oswald's place, a full plate is placed on Oswald’s desk.  Soviet-ish style music plays in the background – just in case I missed the North Korea stuff earlier.  Yes – I get it, show.  Now stop it.

We hear a creak of leather and see Oswald testing some kind of leg brace.  I’ve given up guessing at the precise nature of Oswald’s leg injury - the show is not exactly consistent with injury and illness – but whatever this is seems to help. He’s pleased and says it feels good, striding about while the man who presumably made it – again, one of his thin, worn minions – watches.  Oswald tells him to add a knife on it.

Penn enters – there’s another shutdown at the factory.  A weak, starved worker fell into a press. Oswald insincerely says he feels for all his workers, but cannot give what he doesn't have

He takes a bite of the steak from the plate on his desk, and pulls a face.  It’s apparently overcooked.  We hear a whine.  It comes from a bulldog Oswald has christened Edward – to whom Oswald offers praise, and then feeds the steak.

Penn visibly struggles at the sight of this.  He says quality is suffering at the factory due to conditions.  Oswald irritably interrupts him, and shoots at the ceiling to demonstrate the quality of the product.  The dog whines in fright. Oswald then tells Penn he upset the dog, and shoots again in temper.  This time, the gun doesn’t fire properly, and Oswald seems to hurt his hand.  Penn cuts in again about better quality products, but Oswald shushes him

Do you hear that?

At Sirens, Barbara and Tabitha are arguing.  Barbara says Oswald is locked in city hall with a small army

(A random aside - Barbara's hair looks fried)

Barbara says she knows Tabitha misses Butch.  Tabitha stubbornly says she needs to make it right.  Barbara asks how she’s going to do that without being killed.  Tabitha’s not really listening.  Barbara tries again

I need you too

Tabitha is now distracted by the sound of a chopper

Barbara tries again - wide-eyed.

Tabby  - do you hear me?

On the roof, Jim and Bruce spot the chopper. The pilot says he’ll meet them at the rendez-vous point. As he flies down the street, though, someone shoots at it – and it starts to crash.  

Heading out, Jim says the chopper is down in Low Boys’ territory – they’ll need to fight their way in and out.  Harper asks for ammo – but Harvey tells her to be grateful for what they’ve got.  Jim asks Alfred if Bruce is about, and they have a confusing little back and forth about whether Jim has given Bruce permission to be there – which Alfred seems to think he wins.  That was just a bit baffling, to be honest.  

The downed helicopter is being raided when Oswald arrives in a big shiny car. He introduces himself.  The leader says this isn’t his turf.  Oswald says he’s going to claim it anyway.  The leader remonstrates, but Oswald’s men shoot them.

GCPD arrives.  Jim gets out of his car

Oswald!

Jim!  I thought you might show up.  so good to see you, old friend.  How are you faring in these troubled times?

Jim tells him to step away from the chopper, but Oswald refuses.

Sorry - mouths to feed - and you know all about that - I hear you’re up to your ears in refugees

Jim says they’re protecting children and families

You shouldn't have shot it down, Oswald.

Oswald frowns.  He says he didn't shoot it down - he didn't know that the chopper was coming.  He’s still taking everything, though.

Jim says it must have been him – who else has that kind of weaponry?  Oswald says that’s a fair point, but it still wasn’t him.  He would just admit it, if he had: it’s not like he can be arrested.  He also tells Jim to skedaddle while he can

Jim and Oswald stare tensely at each other in their annual new season tiff

Harvey tells Jim they’re outgunned – which is maybe the most redundant observation ever made – but presumably to stop Jim reacting stupidly because his pride has been nettled. Oswald tells Jim to listen to Harvey. After all they’ve been through, he doesn’t want to kill him.  Not like this.

Before the situation can progress, we see arrows through Oswald's men – and a glimpse of Tabitha.  The cops raise their guns – and Tabitha grabs Oswald, a gun to his throat.

Listen to me – I know you’re upset about Butch

Tabitha yells that Butch thought Oswald was his friend

(An aside. Really?  Because the last I saw of Butch, he spent a lot of last season shoving Oswald around and threatening him. Oswald offered their old working relationship, and Butch rejected it in favour of choking him for a bit.  But anyway.)

This infuriates Oswald. He sounds sincere, and his voice breaks slightly as he says

I was his friend - you put a knife in my mother's back - his blood is on your hands!

Tabitha asks him if he thinks that she expected to come here and kill him and walk away.  Poor Barbara.  Given the choice, Tabitha opted for Butch again.

Hilariously, Oswald falls back on what he knows best

Jim! are you going to let her kill me like this in cold blood?

I promise it’s not shipper goggles – but Jim does an infinitesimally slight shake of his head.  Oh Jim.  Never play poker.

Oswald continues

You are not only the one keeping Gotham from the abyss - I am too: I supply stability

Tabitha turns Oswald to face her.  He reiterates the cold, hard truth:

I may have pulled the trigger - but you killed Butch

Tabitha has no real response for that

Shut up and die

She pulls the trigger – but the gun doesn’t fire properly. Oswald is saved by his defective stock. He laughs maniacally – and quickly pulls his knife on her.  They struggle.  He taunts her a little.

If that was one of my bullets, I’ll be having a word with the foreman – unacceptable quality!

He then tells her to say hello to Butch, and overpowers her – stabbing her in the chest.

There’s a scream – Barbara, who runs out from hiding to stare.

Jim watches the scene unfold.  Tabitha falls to her knees as Oswald watches. She manages a couple of words – presumably advice to Barbara about the futility of ongoing revenge.

Barbara - don't….

Oswald runs for cover as Barbara roars and fires blindly

We get a close-up of Tabitha's body as Barbara shoots and a gunfight breaks out.  Oswald calls out that it’s sounding a bit quiet from Jim’s end – they’re out of bullets.

Outside – we see Bruce break into a van with a propagandistic image of Oswald on it. He beats the guards easily and steals some ammunition.  He delivers this to a grateful Harvey and Jim.

Barbara reloads and runs out into the room.  Oswald appears, and shoots her in the shoulder.  He looks down at her.

For the record – that is not how I wanted things to go

Barbara screams that she'll rip out his heart

Oswald tells her to be quiet - talk like that will force my hand!

(An aside.  See - the thing is - Oswald is pretty much lawful evil here.  Tabitha already had it coming for Gertrud. Oswald took Butch instead.  She then tried to shoot him in the heart.  What is he supposed to do?  He doesn’t actually want to kill Barbara – unless he’s pushed – as is evidenced by what he says next.)

Oswald looks at her

For old times’ sake – I will give you a chance.  Can we move past this?  Say the whole Tabitha/Butch chapter is over?

For what it’s worth, he sounds sincere.  And it’s consistent with past actions from him. Oswald will tend to want to even scores.  But he’s also as likely to want to shake hands and move on when he’s truly done with something. This is likely why both Victor and Penn and Butch still ended up working with him after various betrayals and conflicts.  

Barbara screams at him.  She’ll feed his guts to the rats - you beaky-nosed freak.

(An aside.  As I said, I am biased. But beaky-nosed freak compared to you stabbed my mother in the back is just my problem with this plot encapsulated. The worst Barbara can come up with in the heat of the moment is that Oswald looks odd. Tabitha got off listening to an old lady crying, and then stabbed her in the back.  Who’s uglier?)

Oswald looks genuinely...sad for a moment. Credit to RLT for managing to give this writing nuance - because he’s Oswald’s been forced to pantomime villainy for most of this episode.

He then flips back to sass. So, no – then?

Barbara smirks at him.

Jim walks out.  He says he wants to make a deal.  They can split 50/50 if he lets Barbara go.

Barbara shrieks that he does not get to limp out alive. And, again, yes, they’ve tried to be as unflattering as possible with Oswald in the first half of this episode – make a monster of him.  But Barbara’s frequent resorting to freak and physical insults – it just leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

Oswald smacks her in the face to silence her.

He offers another deal for Jim.  He kills Barbara and takes everything.  Jim gets to stay alive – and go home to reflect long and hard on his generosity

Jim asks what happens when the government finds out he killed the only cops in Gotham. What?  He basically just said you were all getting to leave.  There’s more than one line in this episode that actively makes no sense.

Oswald tells him nothing would happen – and that Jim has nothing to offer.

Now they have extra ammunition, Harvey shoots.  Jim shoots Oswald’s bad knee.  Oswald screams.  Jim says that’s not true anymore.  He was never going to make a deal: he needs all those supplies.  One of Oswald’s men ushers him away.

Back at GCPD, supplies arrive.

Harvey asks Jim if Oswald is going to pull through.  Jim says probably – and that this will at least put him out of commission for a while.

Harvey says he could have put him down, but Jim makes noises about regulations and laws and shooting a man without warning.

Harvey says they’re fighting for survival and asks again why he didn’t do it.

Jim looks away. Harvey tells him

You win or you die - next time shoot to kill

Jim gives the tiny headshake again as Harvey walks away.  I honestly promise I’m not fibbing – go back and look.

Bruce approaches Jim and says he’s going to see Selina.  Jim asks again for Bruce to let him know how she is.  As Bruce leaves, he calls after him

You want to help - just ask.  You’ve earned a place

Bruce smiles and leaves.

Up at Jim’s radio desk, a woman removes a mask.  It’s Ecco. She looks over his map – and listen as the radio crackles.

Captain Gordon, come in.

She watches from shadow as Jim approaches and answers. The voice at the other end replies.

You have allies across the river.  We will find a way to help you

Jim listens – face serious. He turns sharply, feeling watched – but there’s no one there.  When he glances back to the map, he sees one of Jerome’s ‘ha ha ha’ tags on his map.

 A man searches dumpsters in an alley.  We see Ed burst out of one, angry.

Really? A dumpster?

Back at the library, he pounds the map table.

What are you doing to me?!  Show yourself!

What is happening to me?

At Sirens, we see Tabitha's corpse laid out on a table.  Barbara kisses her, turns to her acolytes, and looks straight out to us.  She’s dressed and made-up more softly than earlier.

I promise - if it's the last thing I do, I will kill him!

Her scream of rage merges into Oswald’s screams of pain.  He’s seated, dressed in white linen/cotton old-fashioned underwear, as someone digs for the bullet in his leg.

My leg - he shot my leg! I just fixed this!

He spits as he screams. Wouldn't his mouth be dry from pain?  Whatever – for some reason, they’re insistent in reinforcing physical loathsomeness for Oswald.

Penn asks him to hold still. Oswald grabs at his shoulder.  He tells him that there’s 1000 rounds to whoever kills Jim - he wants his head.

The bullet is finally removed.  Oswald stares at it, wide-eyed, breathing hard.

At the hospital, a nurse is in Selina’s ward.  She leaves her trolley for a moment. Selina sees a scalpel on it and hurls herself out of bed to get it.

As Bruce approaches, he hears screams from the ward.  The doctor and nurse are restraining Selina as she weeps and screams.  They inject her with something, and lay her on the bed. She’s insisting that she has no reason – they should have let her do it.

Bruce is confused – but the dr tells him she was trying to kill herself, and they’ll need restraints for when she wakes.  Bruce reaches down and touches her face.

(An aside – this was honestly the strongest and most emotional moment in the whole episode.  I teared up when we heard Selina screaming and crying.)

The nurse hisses at him again

I told you - the witch!

Bruce asks where he can find the witch.

Back on GCPD turf, Harvey refers to Jim as

St Jim of Gotham

(A quick aside – I would have maybe expected to see some kind of church presence in Gotham – trying to help.)

Jim tells Harvey he wants new refugees questioned about Jeremiah.  Lucius approaches, and says they now have 6 weeks of supplies.  As they talk – a small boy is brought up to them, who was apparently found at the Thompson St. barricade.  Jim crouches down.

What happened, son?

The boy can’t say much

My brothers and sisters - they’re killing us.  You have to help us

The boy wobbles on his feet. Jim tells them to get him to the clinic

He looks around to the cops who have gathered round him

I know you’re all asking why we’re here when the government won't help us.  It’s simple. We’re supposed to give people hope: if they’re in danger, someone will come.  We will come.  Suit up

 So.  We’re back

General Observations

The big picture

Some things aren’t making much sense.  I know we’re supposed to think Jim represents law and order, while everyone else presents selfish lawlessness.  But the backstory we have with these characters means this doesn’t quite work.

We know Jim will ally with criminals when he has to (at the drop of a hat, actually).  Both Oswald and Barbara are amenable to him. Both Oswald and Barbara see Gotham as home.  The Oswald we saw last season (not this ooc mess) couldn’t imagine anything worse than citizens being killed by Jerome’s stupid blimp.  If Jim is as desperate as suggested, then why hasn’t he tried to communicate with them before the impromptu get-together at the downed chopper?  The worst they could have done is say no, or make wildly unreasonable demands.  If he’s not willing to cede anything to them – then fair enough, walk away – but to not even have tried to talk seems bizarre.  I would guess he’d want to know he’d exhausted every option to help the people.

St Jim of Gotham

Jim’s had a bit of a character shift. He’s squarely law and order and selflessness here.  He tries to hold out hope that the government will help. Even smaller things amount to a shift in character.  He listens quietly to people when they talk. He repeatedly asks Bruce to update him on Selina’s progress.  He’s generally quieter and softer.

As for his shooting Oswald, @rhavewellyarnbag convincingly explained elsewhere that shooting an injured limb isn’t actually doing Oswald any favours at all.  In-universe, though – I think that possibly in the context of a show where mangled hands magically heal and people recover fast from life-threatening injuries with no consequences, and Harvey tells Jim off for being merciful (and we’ve just seen Oswald shoot Barbara non-fatally) – we’re supposed to regard it as a merciful alternative – building on this new character shift for Jim.

Whether or not he’ll maintain this shift of character is another question.

  The whole business by the downed helicopter.  

Well, gosh.  It’s almost like actions have consequences. Barbara should know that herself, given that Tabitha murdered her a couple of seasons ago in retaliation for shooting Butch.  Sorry – but if this is supposed to make me hate Oswald and root for Barbara, then it’s a mess.  Oswald has ample cause to hate Tabitha and want her dead – and she forced the issue here by trying to murder him in front of a bunch of people, where he cannot lose face.  

Come to that, he’s got reason to have gotten rid of Barbara before now, if he’d wanted: she was heavily involved in Ed’s attempt to drive him mad, humiliate him, and murder him.  Yet here he still wants to move on.  You can’t sell Oswald’s actions here to me as an example of villainy that’s somehow worse and more wanton than anything that other characters have perpetrated.  Especially when the characters directly affected – Tabitha and Barbara – themselves have a reputation for casual sadism and violence.

Oswald’s empire

Oswald was at his cleverest and most daring back in season one, when he was trying to make his way. We can assume that this has been the case in subsequent seasons, too – although we never got to see it.  He managed to claw back power after his stint in Arkham, and later capitalise on the post-Tetch-virus landscape.  When he’s actually in power, things don’t tend to go as well for him.

However, that’s not usually because he’s being outright dumb. Oswald wheedles and manipulates – reading people and their motivations so that he can gain from them.  But now he’s OK with blithely alienating people and inviting resentment and rebellion?  Doesn’t see any potential problems with that scheme?

What’s more, this is out-of-character.  Yes, Oswald craves power.  But he also wants – at the very least – loyalty and popularity.  Remember how infuriated he was when Selina wanted to know what she would get in return for helping him?  At most, he wants to be adored.  Remember how he teared up at Ed’s stunt with the little girl during his mayoral campaign?  How genuinely shaken he was when he won - proof that the people liked him?  Wanted him?  Trusted him?  Remember how Ed’s crude commedia dell’arte mocked Oswald’s need for the love of this people?  Oderint dum metuant doesn’t really do it for Oswald.  

Intellectually and emotionally for him, then, this just doesn’t fit.  Not only does he have an emotional need to believe that he’s loved – he knows that starved, angry people are less likely to be loyal, and way more willing to sell him out for a better situation, or rebel outright.

Barbara

I’m guessing this is the beginning of some sort of redemption arc for Barbara – we’ll be invited to feel sympathy for her now, then root for her revenge, she’ll become more of an ally to Jim, and then she’ll be pregnant.  I liked season one Barbara, was still interested in her in season two but since then, to be honest, she’d been so flattened as a character that it was hard to care much about her.  The fact that her redemption storyline is being enabled by trying to make Oswald as unsympathetic as possible – and while giving her a lot of season one Oswald’s characteristics – really just sticks in my craw, to be honest.

I suspect that it’s also a bit problematic that her redemptive arc can start now that Tabitha is removed from the picture.

Selina and Bruce

There’s not much to say other than it’s painful.  Poor Selina.

Yet to be seen: Lee, Zsasz, Strange, Jervis, and Jeremiah.  It sounds like Ivy is the Witch.