#even if it wasn’t intent it was definitely intended to be shady

[iwatcheditbegin]

I know that wasn’t the intent behind the image of a bloody severed hand in a friendship bracelet, but it was absolutely something they could’ve at least blurred without changing the whole aesthetic. Even if it was before Vienna and Southport, stuff can and has been changed very quickly. I don’t understand this odd one sided beef, but I think it’s incredibly insensitive and vile considering the recent events.

[valorandheat]

eyes-for-justice​:

valorandheat​:

“Daraen, hm?” Jathrek seemed to muse upon her name for only the briefest of seconds, though internally, there was much more going on. It wasn’t the clumsiest or worst alias he’d ever come across, yet Robin had done nothing to disguise herself. She probably should have if she wished to remain incognito to some degree. It wasn’t as if even her appearance wasn’t well-known enough through most of this land. Not that she stuck out any more than he did, considering he wasn’t exactly a normal human, nor did he bother to disguise himself either. Business was business, and up-front honesty usually built good trust in customers…and led to returning shoppers as well as good word-of-mouth to encourage others to seek him out regardless of appearance. He’d generated enough goodwill that he could walk relatively freely, at least among this particular town.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do for you price-wise. What do you happen to be looking for in terms of wares? One snap of my fingers once you tell me what you’re after, and I can show you what’s in my possession.” He put three of his fingers on his right hand together as if to ready himself for he request…though truth be told, he was a lot more interested in her body right now than selling her something. But maybe, if she found he was just as trustworthy as he appeared to be (which he was), one thing might lead to another? 

Robin internally took note of Jahthrek’s response to her pseudonym, aware that her fame as the new prodigious tactician of the kingdom could sabotage her mission by exposing her true identity. For the time being, she needed to trust that the other customers. If anything didn’t go according to plan, she could cast an emergency forget hex, courtesy of Tharja’s teachings. “My master leads a small army in a nearby village and has sent me to contact you…” she explained, only offering small bits of truth in her story. How much of it would he be able to pick up?

“To keep it simple… We need weapons, potions and incantation tomes.” Judging from the man’s words, he was some sort of demon with great powers, but his intent was simply to enrich himself with trade. All the tactician had to do was confirm that. “If you have those in your possession, then could you show me right now, please?”

As they continued to bargain, another idea made its way into Robin’s mind: it was an approach that would barely be considered fitting of a member of the royal army, but it would definitely help gauge Jahthrek’s power. And besides… His appearance made that approach easier to consider. “As for the price… I’d rather discuss it at a later time. Perhaps…” Remembering Aversa’s compliments and encouragements about her body, the tactician subtly leaned forward and propped up her chest. “…away from prying ears… and eyes.”

The tactician at least seemed to sell her false identity well, but the vagueness of details made it seem just a little thin at best, or at least shady to an outside observer, not that Jahthrek cared too much about the intentions of his customers, though most of them purchased his wares for benign enough purposes, he supposed. Still, he was pretty certain he knew who she actually was and the company she kept.

That made it surprising when she got very sexually suggestive, leaning forward and using her form and a more seductive tone of voice to imply what she intended to give him as payment, causing him to lower his arm. He’d been about to show her a selection of some of the things he had to offer, but with this opportunity she was presenting him with...it was hard to say no. However, he did need to make one thing clear before they took this somewhere more private.

“...well, that can probably get you everything you need within reason, but just one question...” The demon’s tail twitched once more as he leaned in closer, “...do you think you can handle me? I do tend to be on the more...rough side with such things. I can’t promise you won’t be a little bit sore after the fact if we keep going along this road.”

As soon as reports about a wealthy and powerful merchant had spread all across Ylisse, a small contingent of Chrom's army was sent to ascertain the situation. Of that contingent, their tactician was the only one to enter the inn in which the target had been sighted. Had things gone awry, she would have signaled his comrades to intervene, so she was relaxed.

It didn't take long to find the objective, clearly standing out among other guests: his strong physique, his confident demeanor and his general appearance were not of a mere merchant, but... Was he a demon? Such a beast could not be let run amok, causing grief to the populace. She had to ascertain his intentions, first and foremost.

"Excuse me..." She spoke politely, trying to be as vague as possible as to not arouse suspicion. "I heard rumors of a wealthy merchant making the rounds in this area. Would you happen to know about him?"

Jahthrek's tail twitched the moment the tactician entered the room. Even before he saw her, he could...feel something different about whoever stepped in. There was something there, something...not exactly evil, but dark at the very least that he could sense. Perhaps it was something that lay underneath the surface, something that wasn't immediately apparent. Once he turned to look at her, however, it became apparent why.

Robin was rather well-known to just about everyone around here, as well as what had happened to her and who she truly was. Of course, that blood and power that had been latent within her was no longer a threat, but there was still at least a trace of it left...a trace that was to never be awakened again, however. But by the Abyss, she was sexy. There was a certain kind of 'business' he'd just love to conduct with her...so long as she was interested, of course.

At the moment she'd approached him, he'd been talking with a couple other patrons, laughing along with them about something relatively unimportant until she spoke to him. He greeted her with a thin little smirk. "Well, unless you're referring to that Anna lady- I met her the other day, by the way, charming woman, if a bit too blatantly avaricious for her own good sometimes- then that's likely myself." He held out a hand for her to shake, smirk turning into a seemingly pleasant smile. "Jahthrek Malor. Is there something I can help you with?" Probably a lot more civilized and well-mannered than she had expected, not that he knew that yet.

@eyes-for-justice

[jikookuntold]

I Can’t Believe We Are Still Talking About This!

Disclaimer: The post you are going to read here, is my personal opinions, plus some evidence. A part of the incidents I mention in this post, is my own observation and the rest came from some trustable sources but yet I don’t claim to be 100% true because first, the sources can be wrong, second, the human mind is tricky and a long time has passed so I can’t claim everything I remember is true. Some of the incidents could get fact-checked, but some couldn’t because the receipts are gone.

First, I had no intention to write about this controversial subject because many people don’t like to bring this up, and I was with them, but it seems people have many questions about it, and they don’t know the details of the incidents. So, I concluded that maybe it’s not bad if we open up a little bit and discuss this subject from different points of view with more details.

But again, I have to clarify this post is not factual, it’s just the things I remember about the subject in a ranting way. This incident had and still has so many unclear aspects, and everything we say or claim is just a theory. I’m not intended to shade or hate anyone, therefore I’m not going to mention any full names here.

TW: Rumor, Suicide, Scandal, Conspiracy Theory

 The Break

You all might know about the break the members had in summer 2019. When their Japan tour ended, and they did some shooting and interviews (like Summer Package), the LDF concert on August 11th was their last schedule and based on BH statement, they were free for 30 to 35 days.

At this time, the members posted updates about being on vacation, but there was not much coming from JK and JM, except JK posting on weverse about staying awake and eating ramen and JM thanking him for eating ramen because of him (it was interesting that JM answered JK’s post about ramen at the same week we had the run episode moment where JK told JM “This is my heart” while putting ramen in his plate). After that, JM posted the videos of Run bottle cap challenge on August 26th.

Anyways, it was pretty clear that JM and JK were together on their days off for at least two weeks since JK mentioned in Bon Voyage 4 (their first schedule after the break) that he didn’t meet any of the members except JM and JH in his days off and since JH was the resident of the same complex, this kinda approved the theory of living with JM. JM also approved this theory, but we will go on that later.

The Rumors

In late August (27th or later) JM’s photos in Paris leaked, and JK was seen in Seoul eating churros, and a photo of his knuckle tattoos started to spread. Everyone was confused, and it was too soon to believe anything. After JM coming back from Paris for JK’s birthday, and leaving for Hawaii the next morning (as he explained in his 12th October Vlive, that year) things started to get weird. I know I didn’t bring up the Paris incidents, and I don’t want to, because it has nothing to do with the subject.

I still haven’t mentioned the subject directly, but I think most of you have guessed it right. In early September 2019, the rumors of JK going to a tattoo shop in Seoul started to spread. At first, the majority of the fandom didn’t take it seriously since the tattoo shop denied the rumors of JK being there, and even the photo of someone backhugging a short-haired girl claiming to be JK got mostly ignored because the photo was low quality and the man in it didn’t look like him that much. This was the time we heard the news about JK going to Geoje Island for vacation, alone, after visiting his family in Busan.

The real deal started when he appeared at the airport on September 16th (the day they were leaving for filming Bon Voyage4 in New Zealand) when we saw his knuckle tattoos, and the rumors turned out to be true. At first, we were excited about him getting tattoos without even knowing if they are permanent or not. But on the same day, the storm came. A photo of JK (this one was clearly him) sitting with that short-haired girl, (LM) eating lunch broke the internet.

The photo was taken from an angle to make it look like they were together alone, but at least two other people (later we found out they were more) were already there, and it was nothing like the date the person behind the camera was trying to make it look. The hugging photo which was taken from the CCTV of a karaoke room resurfaced along with the restaurant photo, and at this time, almost everyone in the fandom started to believe that they are dating.

The Statements

The mess on social media was getting bigger, and everyone was waiting for an official statement from both sides. BH released the statement a few hours later, denying the rumors and no further explanation. Almost one day passed, and there was nothing from LM, not even a single word. Finally, she posted a statement on her Instagram account (which gained a crazy amount of followers, and she didn’t even go on private the whole time).

The statement was extremely shady and been deleted a few hours later. LM claimed that she wasn’t ignoring the situation, and she was afraid to say anything because she knew we won’t believe her. “I am not dating JK” she used this sentence twice in her statement, and at the end, she said “his “J M” tattoos are not our initials!” and made the situation way worse. But the funny thing is, this wasn’t even the shadiest thing she did.

As I said, she got lots of followers (nearly 100k) and interactions on her account and started to delete the negative comments as she should, but she liked multiple comments congratulating her, saying she and JK look good together and things like that. I heard she even liked a fan-art post, but it didn’t end here. When the member came back from New Zealand she posted a selfie with the caption “I have missed you”. At this point, it was clear that she was enjoying the situation and acting shady to make it worse and fuel the rumors and stay on top of the news. But this wasn’t limited to herself because her colleagues at the tattoo shop weren’t any better.

In those days, one of the close friends of LM at the tattoo shop told an ARMY that LM has a boyfriend and there is nothing other than friendship between her and JK. And guess what? The Tattoo shop manager fired him the next day. What was the reason? Were those rumors a booster for their business, and they didn’t want them to die down? The number of followers and attention they gained at that time can approve my point. They were getting the best free promotion, any business could ever have.

Don’t Forget Me!

A few days later, when the public, started to forget the rumors, someone from the tattoo shop (I don’t remember if it was LM herself or her friend) talked to the media about the harassment they were getting from the ARMY to play the victim role. This again fueled everything and made us think over the situation. Was it all a frame for JK? The evidence suggests that it could.

Let’s go back a few days in the timeline of the events. Why JK chose that tattoo shop? Because his 97liner friends recommended him to go there (apparently this line of friends, have matching tattoos either) LM herself is a 97liner, and she is friends with plenty of idols, male and female, so they sounded pretty trustworthy. At the tattoo shop, they (LM and her tattoo shop colleagues) recommended JK to spend his days off at a guesthouse in Geoje Island, and based on LM’s Instagram posts, they were there days before JK, waiting for him, to make it look like they run into him accidentally? I don’t know, but this is a stalker's behavior

After having lunch with LM and her friends at the restaurant (where Sasaeng were there, ready to take photos), they went to a karaoke room and JK, who was pretty drunk (based on what the karaoke manager said later) backhugged LM. But the Sasaengs couldn’t be there to take photos, so they (allegedly) bribed the karaoke employee to show them the CCTV footage and took a low-quality picture of it.

The biggest question is, if the Sasaengs weren’t there, how did they know there is something worthy in the CCTV to check? The answer is they weren’t the main culprit, and karaoke or tattoo shop employees or both were cooperating with them. I mean karaoke employees definitely cooperated with Sasaengs, but the tattoo shop benefited the most. So why not? Anyways, that photo and that moment was the most “intimate” thing they could capture to use against JK.

JK went on that trip with his manager (The guesthouse manager gave out this information later, the part that was lacking in BH statement which could close the speculations way easier and earlier) and stayed at that guesthouse for two days to rest, but everything went wrong from there. This incident has three sides, LM and tattoo shop, the Sasaengs, who were following JK as their full-time job, and the media/industry which was trying to ruin JK’s image. I’m going to talk about all these three but let’s continue with the first one, LM and the tattoo shop.

Almost one month after the incident, LM’s friend interviewed with Korean media and claimed that ARMYs keep harassing her to the point that she wants to commit suicide. This was another attempt to bring everything back on top, but this time, it was disgusting because she did this interview right after one of the famous faces of Kpop committed suicide (October 14th, 2019). She used the situation and the public’s emotions to play the victim role on a higher level. Before this, many believed that she was a victim of some crazy Sasaengs, and she had nothing to do with the incident (I’m clearly talking about the people who didn’t think the rumors are true) but after that, it was clear that she is an attention seeker.

But I think she wasn’t just an attention seeker. She benefitted a lot from the situation. Her business blew up, she became one of the most famous non-celebrities in Korea (if not in the world), and she was literally shipping with one of the most popular men on the planet, who doesn’t like that? Anyways, LM had several friends, foreign older friends who were interacting with I-ARMYs for some unknown reasons, and one of them exposed something very interesting. She said she feels sorry for LM because she thought she had a chance with JK and that chance is long gone. Besides, people saw some conversations between LM and her friends on her Instagram comments about finding an idol boyfriend for her. These conversations happened before the incidents but it’s interesting since LM has several idol friends.

LM had another comeback to the media at the end of October and the next and the last update about the situation, happened in early December when BH stated that they (BH and LM!) are suing karaoke for leaking the photo. But after almost two years, we don’t know how this ended up. The last and probably the worst thing happened in the final episode of Bon Voyage when JK unnecessarily apologized for his behavior. I know JK himself, wanted to do this apology but he didn’t have done anything wrong and didn’t owe any apology to ARMY or anyone else, even if the rumors were true.

A New Ship on the Shore

After that, LM did nothing shady except posting photos of JK’s arm tattoos or someone with similar tattoos in December 2020 explaining their meanings, which was a weird action. After the rumors, JK didn’t visit that tattoo shop ever, and now, an artist who works with BH does his tattoos (the same artist who has done JM’s tattoos). LM announced on April 2021, that she has a boyfriend and some of JK/LM shippers, quitted their beloved ship after that. But not all of them.

We believed that the rumors weren’t true from the day JK and BH denied them, but many people didn’t. They were strongly believing that BH is hiding the truth because it’s Kpop and in this industry, idols are not allowed to date openly, so they had no choice but to deny any dating rumors. But this wasn’t their only reason for their denial. The main reason was the way JK was misunderstood and misrepresented by this fandom (I have a post about it, you can check it here).

At this point, there are people out there, shipping JK and LM. They bring several “proofs” for them being real such as:

1. Having similar tattoos: LM had designed and done JK’s tattoos, so it’s pretty normal for them to have the same style, especially the hand tattoos since he hasn’t changed or added anything on that part. But his arm tattoos have changed a lot, and you can’t see a similarity in them. Besides, knuckle tattoos are very common among tattoo lovers.

2. Having eyebrow piercing: This is another common trend. JK loves piercings and tattoos, and it means nothing, literally.

3. Similar drawings: This one is a little bit tricky and it needs a back story and a conspiracy theory. On 13th May 2020, BH released a Bangtan bomb from MAMA 2019 backstage, where JK drew a sketch of the moon and stars on a whiteboard. On the same day, people started to make a fuss, because LM had a design on her Instagram, very similar to JK’s improvised sketch. The date of her post was 11th December 2019, but the day JK drew that sketch, was December 4th (MAMA ceremony), and this means LM posted her design one week later. So who copied who? Does JK saw that design somewhere in that tattoo shop and had it in his mind, and drew it subconsciously? I don’t think so. Because JK improvised it in front of the camera, and it was originally his idea. Do I think BH has some insiders who took the photo of that sketch and showed it to LM, and she took the idea and made it hers? This is exactly what I think because I trust JK, not LM, nor BH. And the timing of the posts and Bangtan bomb is on my side. Preach!

That’s it. These are the only proofs people bring to say something is going on between them, and the funny thing is, this hasn’t ended even after April when LM announced that she is dating (apparently she had broken up with the last boyfriend right after the rumors started, definitely not sus, lol) The only reason people made a huge deal of those two photos, was one word: Heteronormativity. If LM were a man, none of this would have ever happened. But since this fandom is obsessed with the idea of het-JK, they bought these rumors eagerly. Back to the subject, as I said earlier, the other sides benefitted from this situation. I mean Sasaengs and the media/companies who had a part in the incidents.

Sasaengs always follow their targets and collect photos and videos of them, but they barely share anything publicly because they are criminals, and if they get busted they will be punished by the law. They have their isolated communities and share their information inside those communities. Of course, there are many accounts on social media that claim to be Sasaengs and gain lots of followers, but most of them are fake, and the real ones don’t share information for free, they sell them for high prices. So, there are two possibilities, in this case, someone bought JK’s photos from Sasaengs and published them, or Sasaengs did it themselves because someone asked/ordered them. I can’t see any other possibilities. Sasaengs wouldn’t gain anything from publishing these photos, but other people would, and they are the ones who made this happen.

Who were they? LM herself and tattoo shop? The fansite who wanted to destroy JK’s career? Or BH, who wanted to punish JK for his boldness about getting tattoos and make him more obedient? Or the media and rival companies, who wanted a scandal for their enemy? Or the people who wanted to revive the idea of het-JK? All of these are plausible and I can’t prove or disprove anything, but you can read more about this in the post I linked before.

Did This Affect Them?

Here comes the most interesting part; how did this affect Jikook? Did it affect them at all? Let’s review the timeline of the events again, from this point of view. As I mentioned earlier, we believe Jikook were together until 27th August and then JM went to Paris without any plans and came back for JK’s birthday. On the selfie, he posted that night he had written: “I’m glad to see you after not seeing you for a few days” which confirms that they were together before JM’s unplanned trip. At this point, JK had started getting tattoos and had most parts of his knuckle tattoos done.

When JM left Seoul for Hawaii the next day, JK went to Geoje, and the incidents happened, but nothing was public yet. Then he got arm tattoos and added some new parts to his hand tattoos including J which makes an obvious JM on his ring finger (The part LM claimed that is “not” their initials lol). JK’s completed hand tattoos were not exposed until September 16th when they were at the airport to leave for New Zealand. It was the day all the theories and rumors started. But in Jikook’s point of view, it happened on the second day of their trip.

Now we can start to analyze their moments on Bon Voyage 4. Of course, this series doesn’t show everything, but it gives us some clues about the dynamic of their relationship on those days. The first day of the trip when they were at the airport and Thailand (?) was pretty normal, but after that, at some moments I felt a strange atmosphere between them which I decided to not read too much on. But I found out I wasn’t wrong when in the last episode, JK talked about the awkwardness he felt about the issue with the members.

Jikook had many cute and domestic moments in the first two episodes but the grand gesture happened on the third one when JK climbed a hill without telling anyone, to bring a chunk of snow for JM as a gift, and we all know how much JM loves snow. This was an undeniable romantic act, but do I think this had anything to do with the situation? I believe Jikook was unbothered by those rumors because they completely trust each other, but the image you make for the others is different from the things you know and believe. Maybe this was a grand gesture not just for JM, but for us either.

After coming back to Seoul, there was no news from them for more than two weeks, and then they left Korea for Riyadh. The remarkable moment in the Riyadh concert was related to JM’s birthday. The members had planned a surprise for JM on the stage (The concert was on October 11th one day before his official birthday in Korea) and when it happened, JM said that he was happy because he saw JK happy and JK played a big role in that surprise. Honestly, you have to be deep in love to be happy just because your significant other is happy, even if it’s your own birthday. Let’s not forget the vlive JM did the next morning, and some pretty obvious moments happened that I can’t discuss here, but I bet you already know what I’m talking about. And also JM exposed the things he did for JK’s birthday that year.

A few hours later, on 18:22 (1+8+2+2=13) on local time and 00:22 on Korean time (only 22 minutes after JM’s official birthday in Korea started), JK tweeted one of the most amazing birthday tweets of all time which is comparable to a love letter. I’m sure you know everything about these tweets, so I’m not going too deep on this, I’m only saying that this tweet also was a grand gesture. And let me make another conspiracy theory here. After the rumors started, every time we had a big Jikook moment, something was coming from LM the next day. For example, when JK made this historic tweet, the next day LM's friend was interviewed about committing suicide. Or when SYS Seoul concerts happened (one of the biggest Jikook feasts of all time) and LM herself was at the VIP seats with her friends, the next day she did another comeback to the media. These can be just coincidences, but… never mind.

I Never Thought I Would Fall for a Man

Let’s not forget about the most obvious statements JK made on his first public appearance after the rumors. On JH’s vlive on 24th September, JK said: “I never thought I would fall for a man”. He said these words about JH dancing at CNS music video, and it clearly had nothing to do with Jikook, but it had a deep meaning. We know JK is not a shallow person, and lately, he stated that he thinks a lot before doing anything. So this didn't come out of nowhere, he didn't spit this out without thinking, in THAT situation. You never say such a thing when the internet is exploding with your dating rumors with a girl, do you?

His words can translate to “Do you ever consider the possibility of me not being straight?” This is what I read from his words and his facial expression. Maybe you think I say this because I’m a shipper, and I have this shipping goggle that makes me see everyone gay and debunk any girlfriend rumors. Some people even ask childish questions like “if they are dating why they didn’t travel together?” There are 100 explanations for that, and any couple who have been together for more than two years can answer you. When you date someone, you don’t stick together 24/7. Everyone in a healthy relationship has individuality, and sometimes they want to spend time with friends or alone, especially when they already had a world tour together lol.

Anyways, maybe I have a different point of view as a shipper, but this is not the problem. I never have a problem with my ship not being real (which they have shown enough to know they are). In fact, I will be delighted if any of them announce their relationship freely and publicly, but they haven’t done it yet. JK denied the rumors and gave us lots of hints about the truth, and I’m not delulu for believing him. But if you think he has to be het for backhugging a girl or having an eyebrow piercing, you are the one who is delusional because you are living in a heteronormative world where boys and girls can’t be friends and everyone is straight unless they come out in public.

I really can’t believe this post turning to be this long, and I thank you for reading it all. You might ask why I cared enough to write +4000 words about some stupid rumors that happened two years ago. This is the main question. This had to be ended in September 2019, but many people didn’t want it to end, because they loved it, they enjoyed it, they gained from it, so they protracted it as much as they could, and heteronormative people supported it blindly because of their homophobia or Y/N fantasies or whatever reason they had. I can’t believe we are still talking about this!

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Can’t Even Bleed Out Alone Anymore, SMH

AO3

Summary: Vigilantes and cops didn’t mix. But neither did Remy’s blood with the cement beneath him, so maybe desperate times called for desperate measures. ...Or no measures whatsoever. That worked too. Warnings: Non-detailed but fairly often mentions/descriptions of blood, talk of a major + physically violent fight, mentions/thoughts of death/dying, swearing Pairings: Platonic creativisleep Notes: Based off this post. Tagging @blinksinbewilderment because she’s the one who reblogded the post, and @rosesisupposes because vigilantes are superhero-esque + she picked the pairing so I think she deserves to know why I needed a random ship at 9pm

Vigilante business was, in general, a pretty lawless business. That was the whole thing, in fact- no rules! No laws! Creatures of justice and the night and miscellaneous bullshit!

    There were, however, a few unspoken rules of thumb. But they were simple things, things that came with the whole territory of being a vigilante. Things like ‘don’t get caught’ and ‘don’t wear bright colours’ and ‘don’t rat on other vigilantes.’ There was also, of course, the most important not-rule rule:

    You don’t go to the fucking cops.

    Now, in Remy’s defense, he hadn’t meant to go to the cops. Really! He hadn’t! He had tried everything else!

    ...And in this case, everything else was ‘hope to miraculously gain the strength to move or die in this dirty, cold alleyway.’ Remy thought it was a wonderful idea, really, especially since he didn’t have any others.

    He was also pretty sure he didn’t have enough blood in his body, but that was a secondary issue.

He also hadn’t technically gone to the cops!

    They came to him, which really shouldn’t have surprised Remy as much as it did. It was a shady alleyway in one of the more crime-ridden parts of town. It, of all places, needed police patrols.

    That didn’t stop Remy from startling when he heard footsteps at the end of the alley, slow, calculated steps clearly taken by someone who had done this walk many times before. He tried to move at first, to stand up and run, or even just move enough to hide himself, but all he succeeded in doing was sending a shockwave of pain through his entire body. He gritted out a grunt as he slumped back against the wall.

    To his disappointment, the movement attracted the attention of the patrolling officer, their footsteps stopping. “Hello? Is someone down there?”

    Remy bit his lip, hoping if he kept quiet the officer would pass by. It didn’t help that he recognized that voice; it belonged to one Roman Prince, a police officer Remy had come face to face with a couple of times in his work.

    And by ‘couple of times’ he meant at least once a week for the last four months. Roman was a good guy, one who wanted to help as much as he could, and it lead to him taking a lot of night shifts in the worst parts of town. Which were, coincidentally, the places Remy, nighttime vigilante, ended up the most.

    So they ended up talking a lot. Sometimes in battle, when Roman just had to play the part of a hero and Remy had to save his stupid courageous ass. Sometimes after battle, to talk about how much Roman disagreed with Remy’s methods while Remy just smirked and said his methods were the reason why Roman had anyone to handcuff. Sometimes there was no battle- they were just bored, both in need of a conversation partner, and both in the same area at the same time.

    Tonight, right now, though? Remy did NOT want a conversation partner. Or any partner, in fact. He needed to be alone and not worried over and definitely not helped because he was a lone vigilante, which meant he worked alone, took care of himself alone, and dammit he was going to die alone too.

    Not that he thought he was going to die!

    Probably not.

    Maybe.

    It wasn’t entirely certain. He just needed to get some strength together, and go home, and patch up all his cuts, of which there were… more than three.

    Alright so maybe the odds weren’t really stacked in his favor, but that was alright. He made the odds his bitch on the regular. If he had done it before, he could do it again!

    “I’m coming down there, alright?”

    Except today, apparently, since Roman was just too damn noble for his own good. Remy mentally ignored the fact that it was also just a standard part of his job.

    He kept silent even as Roman came down the way, hoping that maybe if he stayed still and quiet Roman wouldn’t notice him. But despite his attempts, Roman’s flashlight still ended up in his face (blinding him and forcing his to tilt his head away), and the officer gasped as he recognized the now bloody and torn outfit. “Nightshade?”

    “No, this is a hobo. Leave me alone.” Remy called back, well aware it wouldn’t work, but figured that he had nothing to lose to just try it. Given how rough his voice sounded, and the fact that halfway through his declaration he had to stop to half-cough, half-retch, however, Remy knew he was done for.

    The steps, which had been a slow, measured pace, broke into a sprint, Roman quickly crossing the rest of the alley to reach Remy. The minute he got to the wounded vigilante, he fell into a crouch, placing his flashlight down so that it lit Remy up but let him use both his hands. Remy grimaced when he saw the concern in Roman’s expression. “Listen, hun, I know how this looks, but really, I’m gucci-”

    “Shh.” Roman hushed gently, and Remy shut up immediately, not completely sure why. It was just something in Roman’s face, the stiff way his jaw was set as he looked Remy over more fully, taking in the extent of Remy’s injuries. Something cold and cruel that, while Remy doubted was directed at him, made Remy afraid of Roman.

    Which was insane, right? Roman was a hard worker and a good fighter but, at heart, he was a goofball and a dramatic with an overactive imagination. He could be brave, and tough, and strong, but not scary.

    But then Roman’s hand was under his chin, gently pushing it up so he could better look at the blood caked on Remy’s face, and Remy felt borderline terrified. Not because he was exposed, his mask having been lost in the fight that landed him there (Roman had had plenty of chances before to take Remy in if he wanted to and he hadn’t- what did it matter if he knew who Remy was?), but because there was something glinting in Roman’s normally soft amber eyes, something hard and angry.

    Carefully, Roman wiped his thumb beside Remy’s mouth, coming away with a streak of blood from his cut lip. The motion was impossibly gentle, and Remy wouldn’t have believed it had even happened if the proof wasn’t smeared across the cop’s thumb.

    Roman studied the blood for a moment, but then his gaze moved back over to Remy; not even his face or his injuries but him, Roman looking him dead in the eye. Remy sucked in a breath through his teeth as he did, because the gaze was intense and heated and furious and Remy found he didn’t very much like being on the receiving end of it.

    “Who did this to you?” Roman asked, voice low and dangerous. Remy didn’t respond at first, because that tone caught him off-guard and was doing nothing to help his already racing heart.

    “Who did this to you?” Roman repeated, voice quieter but filled with even more fury.

    Remy reacted that time, mostly because he felt he had to, had to answer before Roman did something unreasonable (he wasn’t sure what Roman’d do, but he figured it was best to nip the flower in the bud before anything escalated). “No one,” He started, pausing to cough roughly into his elbow, “No one important.”

    “No one important?” Roman repeated, incredulously. “I’d say anyone who beat you up this bad is pretty damn important!”

    “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Remy said, which wasn’t a complete lie. He had dealt with all of these injuries before. Just… normally he dealt with them separately. Like, one or two at a time. “And, besides, I’m not just going to tell you and watch you run out on some sort of suicide mission to avenge me or something-”

    “Have you even seen yourself, Nightshade?!” Roman snapped, and Remy flinched at the tone. Roman clearly noticed, sighing before he continued, quieter, “You appear to have at least three severe external wounds alongside a multitude of bruising that seems to be covering your entire body, and that isn’t even getting into whether or not you have broken bones or internal bleeding. I don’t think you should even be alive right now.”

    “I’m resilient.” Remy told him drily. 

    “You’re lucky, is what you are.” Roman corrected, frown deepening as his hand slipped from holding Remy’s chin to cupping his cheek. Remy hated it, hated how… sincere the gesture was, but that didn’t stop him from leaning into it, the cold of his environment finally beginning to seep in. Softly, Roman ran his thumb over Remy’s cheek, only inviting Remy to lean further into his hold. Were it not for the last few tendrils of his sense of will, Remy would have collapsed into it too.

    “Someone hurt you with the intention to kill you.” Roman said, quietly. “And I intend to make them pay for it. But to do that, I need to know who hurt you.”

    Remy looked at Roman carefully, squinting at the officer. His expression was set, fury still in his eyes but now accompanied by determination. “You’re just a civilian.”

    “So are you.” Roman pointed out. “You just put on a suit.”

    Remy didn’t respond to that, choosing to just keep watching Roman, not sure what exactly he was looking for. Finally, he sighed. “Uncanny.” He admitted, feeling as if he had just told his deepest secret. “I caught them on the roof of an apartment complex, trying to force their way in from the top. We fought, and… well. One of us went overboard, and for once it wasn’t me.”

    Roman nodded to himself. “Uncanny.” He repeated, the fury once more flashing in his eyes, pushing out everything else. He leaned back, lost in his thoughts, his hand slipping from Remy’s cheek as he did so.

    Later, Remy would be embarrassed by what he did next. But in the moment, with the adrenaline finally beginning to fade and the force of his injuries, the cold, and the loneliness hitting him, the thought of Roman leaving was completely unbearable.

    So he pushed himself forward, ignoring the burning protest that immediately flared across his entire body at the sudden movement. He fell against a startled Roman and curled into him, his grip loose and weak and shaky but still enough to allow him to latch onto Roman.

    “Please don’t.” Remy begged, feeling foolish but only being able to slightly care, because Roman was warm, unfairly so, and Remy had no clue what he would do if Roman left him, left him cold and hurting in this freezing empty alley. “Please don’t go, please, please don’t, don‘t leave me, I can’t, can’t-”

    Arms, suddenly, warm and strong, wrapped around Remy’s back and helped to pull him up, more properly surrounding Remy in the warmth. Tenderly, Roman moved Remy’s head to his shoulder, tucking his face against his neck.

    “Shhhh.” He shushed, gently, calmly, kindly, gathering up as much of Remy as close to him as he could get. “It’s alright. I’m not going to leave you, Nightshade. You have my word.”

    Remy just nodded into Roman’s shoulder, because he trusted him, really, trusted his word and trusted that he wouldn’t leave Remy. As soon as he stopped nodding, however, black spots began to crowd into his vision, swarming in from the edges as his eyelids fluttered. He was still aching all over, but now he was warm, warm and safe, and trying to keep himself conscious seemed both a useless and unnecessary use of his effort.

    “Ro, I- I’m gonna-” Remy tried, at the very least not wanting to frighten Roman, make him think he had fainted or something when, really, all Remy wanted right then and there was a good, long nap.

    Roman just nodded a little bit, enough that Remy could feel the vibrations, running one of his hands over Remy’s back in a soothing manner. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He promised, and as Remy gave up his fight with his eyelids, letting them fall completely closed, he continued, 

    “I’m not going to let them hurt you again.”

    And with that last promise echoing in his mind, Remy drifted off, feeling secure in the fact that, if no one else would, he knew Roman would keep his promise.

[svpervixen]

If I end up murdered/missing under mysterious circumstances, I just want it on the record that I am fully aware that cheap ass men see me as a threat and may become unhinged enough to end my life in response to the actions I take, which, in regards to my telling the truth and holding shit boys accountable for their shit behavior, knows no bounds. Since I was in middle school, I have ALWAYS spoken up against creeps and abusers, defending the abused, and acknowledging the injustices I witness. Doesnt matter who the fuck you are, if you use your time and energy to make advances towards women who are either just trying to do their fucking jobs, or are walking down the street, or just trying to fucking breathe in public, then you WILL face the consequences of such inhumane, disrespectful actions, coming from a woman who has had ENOUGH. I have ALWAYS made a stand with any asshole who stepped out of line with my own intent of protecting women, and most importantly, letting women know they’re not alone, and someone else can see the harm occurring, and that they’re not crazy for having an emotional reaction to harassment. Doesn’t matter who the fuck it is, my stance is CONSISTENT; could be a total stranger, could be a close friend, family member, I do not care. I learned very early on in my life how disheartening it is to watch so many injustices happen to you, while no one says or does anything to help the situation. I have always vowed to be the exact opposite of that kind of person. I have gotten into screaming matches with grown men who I witnessed sexually harass literal children. I have spent days of my life comforting women who have been abused by a man. And even when I tell myself, “maybe you need to back off”, or, “maybe you’re just too paranoid”, it still never stops me from taking a stand when necessary. When something is wrong, I can’t ignore it. My mind, body, and soul won’t let me. If you have a conscious, you know what notion I’m talking about.

Thursday, I stood up to some sad excuse of a “man” at work. Some 50-60 year old fuck who walks around with a v-neck and gold chain constantly, as if the sparkle of that chain could hide the massive amount of hair loss on his head. You know the type. I’ve been at my job for close to four years now, and he’s a frequent flyer here; likes to complain about a specific department if they do even the slightest thing wrong, but more significantly, spends much of his time hitting on any woman who is in my store, an employee or not, which tells me and everyone else that he has no one to go home to and gets his jimmies off, and is most likely experiencing a mid-life crisis and expects anyone in his path to comply to him, because, yknow, he’s a man, and he’s white-passing. He spent a good ten minutes the other night making useless, uncomfortable conversation with one of my coworkers. He set to leave without a “big” fuss and I ALMOST let it go. But, my convictions moved me, yet again, so I ended up approaching him. I told him to his face, right beside him (could’ve been arm and arm with the fuck) that as long as he comes in here and talks to my coworkers the way he does, that I will be watching him. I didn’t swear, I didn’t threaten him. All I did was give a voice, give words, to his gross, inappropriate, shady actions, that he would most definitely attempt to cover up as something that it’s not, as unaccountable men frequently do. So many abusive men like to paint the picture as if the victims are overreacting. The only way to fight that idea is to challenge it, and I intend to do so through and through, no matter who it is. The funniest thing to me about this situation was that the only “threat” I made was acknowledging his problematic behavior while actively refusing to back down in the face of his excuses or threats. Sound familiar?

Friday, same pathetic little “man” came into my store, but with the intent of approaching my boss, and telling her all about me and my actions. I was in the office dealing with paperwork while this piece of shit caught my boss at the very last second before she left, after working over 10 hours. Luckily, my boss is a gem of a woman who, rather brilliantly, knows how to balance work relations/personal feelings in a way that I, honestly, never could; she’s a warrior of a woman. I’ll admire her to my deathbed. She set aside any of her own feelings and dealt with the person in a way I simply can’t... simply stuck to facts, and immediately approached the issue with the intent of protecting me when it came to our higher-ups. Because, as the asshole put it, he would “make sure I was fired”.

In the same breaths, he was calling me crazy, which is nothing new for me. Suggested I needed “pills”, and that something was wrong with me. Frequently did the “point-at-head-and-rotate-finger” motion while trying to cut me with his eyes. Even started pointing at me, and shaking, while swearing at me and calling me a crazy bitch. I couldn’t help but notice the fact that my own anxieties were causing me to slowly start shaking as well, but, of course, for entirely different reasons as opposed to him, and every woman reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about. Too bad this time it wasn’t being recorded to be shown off and laughed at later, but hey, if anyone wants to see what I look like breaking down at work, check back in a while!

It’s clear to me why he reacted the way he did, as this is a lesson I’ve been learning for the past several years now; I became a vessel that acknowledged whatever the fuck this man was most insecure about, to put it simply. The fact that my perceivable form is that of a white alternative woman meant he could tap into whatever hatred he has for women while allowing his toxic masculinity to avoid any reasoning or accountability, and eventually, letting his lack of control over a women lead into intimidation and threats towards my well-being to, again, only appease his own paper ego. I could explain that kind of behavior for days, but, I’m going to save it for now; I’ll have more to say in about two weeks.

I go back to work Tuesday and I’m sure I’ll have more to hear about it, since he was soooo adamant about pushing this as high as he needed it to go in order for me to lose my job. So, basically, what a goddamn surprise; an outspoken woman, through valid fear and unwavering determination, made a stand to acknowledge an injustice, and the accused goes on whatever his ultimate defense is, simply to cater to his fragile ego. A tale as old as motherfuckin time itself.

[mobius-prime]

233. Sonic the Hedgehog #165

Look! Look! It's that eye thing again! Patrick "Spaz" Spaziante, stop this madness!

Leak

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

This issue is honestly a fantastic one. There's so many great character interactions that as a writer myself, I live for. We begin by learning that Rouge arrived at Knothole about an hour ago, and in light of her most recent actions in the town, she's been taken into custody, with Knuckles, Julie-Su, and Vector in charge of her interrogation. Vector takes to his role with gusto, clicking on a lightbulb above her head and generally trying to play bad cop, but Rouge seems mostly amused by the proceedings, taking a particular interest in Knuckles and speaking to him directly. She arrived via warp ring, and seeing as that's technology unique to Angel Island (…dunno when that was ever established, but okay), they're very interested to know where she acquired it. When she acts flippant, Vector threatens to just throw her in jail, and when she protests that she's innocent of any wrongdoing Vector reveals that mere minutes after she arrived, the other members of the Chaotix went to Fiona for dirt on her. Fiona was shy and reluctant about sharing any information, obviously embarrassed of her shady past, but with Sonic's encouragement she opened up, explaining just how skilled Rouge is as an operative, as well as how she's not above getting her hands dirty to accomplish her objectives.

Irritated at being called out, Rouge agrees to explain what happened in between her last visit and now. She was uncertain about allying with Finitevus, but stuck with him for the first part of his plan, which involved breaking Eggman's most recent prisoners out of the Egg Grapes. Many of them were already dead, but Finitevus managed to save the Destructix, and took them to the same base where Shadow met Isaac. This is where we learn that Isaac was heavily malfunctioning all along, as the ancient, pre-Xorda Robotnik in cryostasis has apparently been dead for a long time, though Isaac still thinks he's alive and giving him orders. Finitevus planned to use the large store of nuclear missiles in the base for some unknown purpose, and when Rouge found out, her moral side kicked in and she destroyed them, which naturally pissed Finitevus off. She stole a warp ring to escape, and now here she is, looking for protection from Knothole - though she adds that she was likely followed. Sure enough, while Sonic and Fiona are walking out of their own interrogation room, they spot Tails looking incredibly nervous next to a tree. When they approach, Sleuth Dawg steps out from behind the tree, holding a gun to Tails' head.

Of course he's back! Scourge and Sonic immediately take off running, leaving Fiona behind to try to talk down Sleuth, who says he's here for the "traitor." Fiona calls him a hypocrite given his betrayal of the Freedom Fighters in the past, but Sleuth slyly insinuates that it's ironic for Fiona herself to be calling anyone else a traitor. Well that's suspicious… While they fight, Sonic asks Scourge why he's here, and of course first on his list of reasons is revenge. However, apparently that's not all.

Things are getting a little spicy, aren't they? They end up back near the others, and Fiona tells them to stop fighting as she's negotiated a deal - the crooks will give Tails back and leave if Rouge returns the stolen warp ring. Sonic immediately zips away and comes back with it, and satisfied, Sleuth and Scourge leave, with the latter giving Fiona a wink as he disappears through the ring.

You know what, Sonic? I don't think it is. Something is definitely fishy here. With the crisis averted, Rouge is free to go, but Julie-Su has one last word for her. I'm gonna let these last two pages speak for themselves, because this is exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned great character interaction.

Damn, even Kenders wasn't edgy enough for the almost-swear. I love this, though. Granted, I'm not actually much of a fan of the interpretation that Rouge is into Knuckles, but I can see her as the type to want to steal something - or in this case, someone - just to prove she can. Certainly, this version of Rouge is a little more ruthless and less morally-centered compared to her counterpart in the games, particularly with how she's characterized in Heroes and beyond. As for Julie-Su, her explanation of her relationship with Knuckles right here is why I think the Soultouch was never a necessary thing to begin with. It's such a weird thing to include - I mean, most of the time in fiction when there's some kind of deus ex machina plot device that mandates that two characters fall in love with each other, the characters really don't feel like they have any real chemistry to begin with, hence the necessity of such a plot device. It's a forced love story, if you will. But Knuckles and Julie-Su? They already had that chemistry, from the beginning. They're alike in many ways, including their rough upbringings and their hot tempers, and those things they have in common often bring them together, as they understand each other more than others can. There was simply no need for a magical soulmate-bond-thingy to explain their falling for each other - Julie-Su's little speech up there is proof enough of that.

Call of Duty

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

Speaking of Knuckles and Echidna Matters, later that day Rotor calls Knuckles to his lab, baffled at getting a call from Locke despite the call not having any signal he can recognize. Knuckles is unfazed, knowing that his father is using the mystical energies of the Master Emerald to contact him, and steps up. Locke doesn't waste time, ordering him to come back to the island immediately. Knuckles refuses, continuing to insist as before that the only way to properly protect Angel Island is to defeat Eggman first, but Locke informs him that things haven't been going very smoothly on the island since Echidnaopolis was retaken.

Well, that's interesting. Another new villain, perhaps? Knuckles is surprised that his father hasn't figured out who the new guy is yet, but Locke says he's been too busy looking for the missing members of the Brotherhood. Knuckles asks if he's bothering to look for Charmy's family as hard as he is his own, but Locke evades the question, instead insisting that he needs Knuckles to come back to help him look. Knuckles, quite angry by now, repeats that he won't, and when Locke tries to go all "What did you just say to me, young man?" on him, Knuckles calls back to the very training Locke gave him as a child that taught him to always go for the source of a problem, and again reiterates that he plans to stay in Knothole to help fight Eggman.

SMASH! Knuckles punches the screen, instantly shattering it and ending the connection, and stands there panting furiously, unable to believe that his father would even think of threatening to let his family be hurt. He collects himself after a moment and curtly apologizes for breaking Rotor's equipment and begins to leave, though everyone is mostly just concerned for his wellbeing. Tails tries to follow him, and tells him that he thinks he's doing the right thing, that he's essentially graduated from protecting one island to protecting the whole planet. Knuckles is still upset though, and leaves to go talk to Julie-Su to clear his head, though he quietly promises to himself that he will return someday, when all this is over.

Now, I absolutely love this. Because under Ian's writership, Locke is no longer treated as this wholly sympathetic, infallible being. Locke and Knuckles got along while Knuckles was still content to merely go along with his father's various plans, but now that he's starting to assert himself and go in a different direction than Locke intends, their relationship is starting to show its cracks. As we've seen before, Locke is someone who really doesn't hesitate to go all in on his plans, even if doing so will end up hurting someone. He created his own son to be a superpowered mutant, just because of a premonition he had. I mentioned before how Locke would have been so much more interesting as the well-intentioned extremist type of antagonist, rather than as the bland "father knows best" character he was under Penders, and I think Ian has finally started to steer the character in that direction. Unfortunately by now it's a little too late to make him truly interesting and complex, but Ian still does an admirable job with what he's been handed to work with.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Dawn in Your Eyes Part 11

Summary: Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Part 11: Seder is held at Letwin Estates for the first time. 

Thank you so much to @justanothershelby​ for being my Jewish encyclopedia. Go follow her, her writing is top-notch. 

            It took time for Caroline to become adjusted to the estate. Even Pilot needed to become acclimated to the space because it was much larger than the flats they’d lived in before. Alfie walked through the house with her a few times, holding her arm as she felt out the various doors and hallways. She had to use her cane the first month or so which made her a bit disgruntled. Knowing the area around her was liberating. When she was unfamiliar with it, she felt boxed in and extra wary.

         Alfie wondered for a while if he’d made the right decision. Seeing his wife moving carefully through the space made him feel a little guilty, as if he’d uprooted her and forced her to adjust to a strange setting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

         One night, Caroline got up to get a glass of water. She was determined to find her way by herself, letting Pilot sleep peacefully in his bed in the corner of the room. Alfie was still fast asleep too when she slipped out of bed and began making her way out of the room and down the hall. She was so intent on getting through the house that she forgot to bring her cane along.

         The first hallway was successful. Caroline managed to find the banister and make her way down the first set of stairs.

         Once she reached the landing in the middle of the staircase, however, she misstepped. Slipping on the rug, she tumbled down a few steps, catching herself by grabbing onto the banister.

         Fortunately, it didn’t take much to wake Alfie. He’d been conditioned to wake easily with any semi-loud noise. When he found the bed empty next to him, he panicked and rushed to the stairs.

         “Carrie?” He hurried down to help her up. “What happened? You fall?”

         She sat up on the step and sniffled. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Aside from her elbow which was bruised a bit, she didn’t feel any injuries.

         “What’re you doing on your own down here? S’the middle of the night, love.” He touched her cheek to see if she hit her head.

         “I was just-” She swallowed and wiped the tears budding from her eyes. “I just hate that I don’t know the house yet.”

         “Oh, love, s’only been a couple of months.” Alfie soothed softly. “You’ll get the hang of it soon ‘nough.”

         She didn’t seem to listen. “Just a blind girl stumbling ‘round.” She muttered and rubbed her elbow.

         “Caroline, new situations are difficult for everyone. All takes us time to navigate them, yeah? Ain’t nothing to be ashamed or angry ‘bout.” He kissed her forehead and helped her stand up. “What’d you need down here, love, I’ll get it for you.”

         “No, I’ll come with you.” She linked arms with him and he carefully helped her down the stairs.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         By the spring, Caroline had gotten a hang of the manor’s layout. Sometimes she found herself in the wrong room but that was only because of the sheer size of Letwin Estates. The name was bestowed on the estate a few weeks after they purchased the home. It was Alfie’s mother’s maiden name and seemed like a nice fit.

         Once Caroline felt more familiar with the home, she fell in love with it. There was nothing more she loved than to go on walks with Alfie and the dogs through the lawns. The warm spring sun finally peeking out from behind gray clouds. The flowers and trees in the garden began to bloom again, filling the air with sweet aromas.

         Caroline certainly did feel spoiled by her husband. Now she had three beautiful homes all with different things she loved about them. But Letwin would become the site of their first Seder held together as a married couple. And that was something special.

         Even though Alfie brought up the possibility of celebrating Passover at Letwin, he began to second guess himself. Partly because Caroline has just gotten accustomed to her surroundings. Now they were meant to hold dinner with God knows how many guests over? The last thing he wanted to do was further throw her off guard.

         But when he asked, she insisted. So, Seder would be held in Essex. Friends and family were all invited from every corner of their now united lives. The guest list was long, simply because the house was large enough to accommodate. Also, Alfie partly wanted to show off his new digs and his beautiful wife. What could he say? He was a peacock sometimes.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Caroline was beaming by the time guests were due to arrive. The home was warm and decorated according to tradition. Now she would invite her guests into her home as the woman of the house. It was exhilarating.

         She came downstairs with Pilot to find Alfie lingering in the foyer. “Is my scarf on okay?” She asked. Even though Caroline had gotten the hang of putting on her own headscarf, Alfie still often put it on for her. It had become an intimate little routine for them every morning. Pausing in between getting ready for the day, Alfie would sit down with his wife on the bed. He’d carefully place each pin, making sure the scarf was secure. Then he’d kiss her forehead and tell her he loved her.

         But that evening Alfie had been running around making sure everything was set so she had put it on herself.

         “Looks perfect.” He kissed her cheek. “I think our first guests have arrived. Are you ready?”

         Caroline bit her lip and nodded. “I am.”

          Elizabeth and Richard arrived first with Buck.

         “Oh, the house is just lovely!” Alfie’s cousin exclaimed as she was welcomed inside.

         “You can’t see it, silly girl.” Alfie teased in response as he greeted her. “Or have you got your eyesight since we spoke last?”

         Elizabeth grinned but smacked her cousin. “I can appreciate the ambiance, asshole.”    

         Richard just sighed at their antics and greeted Caroline. “It is quite the place, Alfie.” He remarked, looking around the foyer. “I didn’t expect you to ever live in a place like this.”

         “Yeah, well.” Alfie shrugged and helped take Elizabeth’s coat. “Nice to get outta the city, innit? All that smoke ‘n shit ain’t good for the lungs, mate.”

         “Carrie, I must tell you about a gentleman Richard met the other day. He is very interested in offering to fund the charity.” Elizabeth linked arms with Caroline, chatting on about the donations.

                  More guests arrived and Caroline was swept back and forth to greet and talk. She received compliments of the house, how wonderful it was that she and Alfie were married, Mazel Tovs, and thanks for the invite. Soon, Caroline was afraid the house would burst at the seam with the amount of people she welcomed inside. But she was enjoying herself. The atmosphere was celebratory as people laughed and joked with each other.

         Once everyone arrived, they entered the dining room for dinner. Alfie was chuffed to be head of the table. With his beautiful wife by his side, the man couldn’t have been prouder. And he adored that every time he glanced over at Caroline, she had a smile on her face.

         In fact, she loved listening to Alfie lead the dinner, telling the story of Passover and Moses. It was a bit more colorful than was probably traditionally intended but it was all Alfie and what wasn’t to love about that? Caroline knew it was the best Seder dinner she’d been to. There was just something so special about it. Beyond finally being the woman she always wanted to be and in the independent status she felt she deserved, there was Alfie. And Alfie made everything seem better. Her heart felt so full when he spoke and when he gently helped her stand after the final blessing was said for the dinner.

         “You were lovely.” Caroline murmured softly to him.

         “You think so?” He chuckled. “Didn’t get anything wrong, did I?”

         “I think Elizabeth would’ve called you out if you had.” She giggled. “She loves correcting you.”

         Alfie smiled and kissed her cheek. “C’mon, love, night ain’t over yet. Still got some entertaining to do.”

        ~~~~~~~~~~~

         After dinner, the guests mingled and celebrated the night. They sang traditional songs and joked with one another. Going on midnight, and the house was still alive and lit up. Caroline’s cheeks were red with warmth and her stomach hurt a bit from laughing with Elizabeth.

         But everything would come crashing down when Caroline went to find her husband. She politely passed through the groups of people, listening for Alfie’s voice or laughter. Instead, she caught onto a conversation she was definitely not meant to hear.

                  “After all this time no one expected him to marry.”

         “If you’d asked me five years ago if he’d be married, I would’ve laughed. Alfie Solomons? Married? No mother in their right mind would allow that.”

         “Her mother’s passed, her aunt was her guardian I believe.”

         “Ah, yes, Mrs. Ellner.”

         “To think she’d allow it.”

         “Something must’ve happened behind closed doors. Mrs. Ellner is a very wealthy woman, you know.”

         There was some hushed whispering between the women talking. As if they were horrified over the prospect of a shady deal being taken place between Alfie and Julia. Caroline felt transfixed in her spot, listening in on the conversation, waiting to hear what the women had to say. She didn’t recognize the voices. They were probably wives of some of the men Alfie invited. People she was unfamiliar with.

         “He couldn’t have wanted to marry a blind girl.”

         “So, you think Julia offered a large dowry? I wouldn’t think she would want her niece with him.”

         “I’ve heard she’s been trying to marry her off for years. Alfie was probably the only one who took the bait.”

         “It’s just so sad, don’t you think? After all? How good of a wife can she be?”

         “Never mind being a wife, what if she becomes a mother?”

         “Can you imagine? How can you be a mother if you can’t see your own children?”

         Caroline had heard enough. She grabbed Pilot’s lead tightly and made a beeline for the stairs. She kept her face tilted down slightly, hoping that none of the guests would notice the tears falling down her cheeks.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Alfie noticed that he hadn’t seen his wife in quite some time. She had mentioned she was going to find her aunt but that had been almost twenty minutes ago. Concerned, he tracked down Richard and Elizabeth.

         “Have you talked to Caroline?”

         “I think I saw her in the foyer not too long ago,” Richard said.

         “She’s probably just going to freshen up, Alfie, it’s okay,” Elizabeth responded.

         Alfie just shook his head and made his way to the stairs. Cyril and Apollo followed him up to the bedroom, tired from all the attention they were getting from the guests.

         The master bedroom’s door was shut so Alfie knocked tentatively. “Caroline?”

         There was no answer but he began to hear soft crying over the chatter downstairs. Worried beyond belief, Alfie entered the room. There he found his wife curled up in a fetal position on the bed. Pilot was lying beside her, his chin propped up on her hip. The Newfoundland eyed Alfie as he neared.

         “Caroline, love, why’re you crying?”

         The woman was too emotionally exhausted to even lift her head or move her hands away from her face. She could only continue to cry weakly.

         “Caroline, you’ve got me all worried, please tell me what’s wrong.” He sat down on the bed and tried to take her hands.

         She jerked away, refusing to let him try to drag her out of the ocean of sadness she was drowning in.

         “I can’t help you if you ain’t gonna tell me why you’re crying, love.” He touched her shoulder.

         Realizing Alfie wouldn’t take silence for an answer, Caroline spoke into her palms. “They’re right. I should’ve known.”

         Worried he’d lost a few words because her voice was muffled, Alfie bent down closer to her. “What’s that? Who was right?”

         “Them, downstairs. I can’t ever be a good wife or a good mother. I shouldn’t even try.” A fresh sob wracked her body. “I-I was so f-foolish to think I could b-be more.”

         Alfie’s heart sunk. He thought, maybe a bit naively, that she’d gotten over her insecurities about motherhood. There was only so much he could do by telling her what he thought. He couldn’t go in and rewire the part of her brain that doubted herself. And it didn’t help that there were people who doubted her too. That only added fuel to whatever heartache Caroline was facing.

         “Fuck what they think, right? Because what the fuck do they know, aye? They obviously don’t know you very well ‘cause they’d never say such a thing.” He tried to be positive when really, he wanted to make whoever insulted his wife disappear. He wanted to shield Caroline from anyone who would ever doubt her.

         Caroline didn’t respond to him. She kept her hands over her face, still just weeping to herself.

         “C’mon, let’s wipe up these tears and go back downstairs. Show everyone that you’re the perfect wife. They’ll all be jealous of you.” He went to help her sit up.

         His wife sharply pulled away from him and shoved his hands away. “Alfie, leave me alone!” She snapped. “I want to be alone!”

         It was the first time she’d ever been so harsh with him. It made him retreat a bit, withdrawing his hands and keeping them to himself. “Alright, m’sorry.” He mumbled. “Just wanted to try ‘n make you feel better.”

         She simply turned her back to him, curling up into a tighter ball.

         He desperately wanted to gather her up in his arms and reassure her that the opinions of others didn’t matter. But instead, he got up from the bed with a sigh. “I’ll leave you alone then.” He left the room, leaving the three dogs inside to comfort her. Maybe they could do a better job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Dejected and pissed off at whoever spoke ill about Caroline, Alfie returned downstairs. Guests were starting to leave, saying goodbye and giving well wishes to him. Alfie saw them out, thanking them and wishing them safe travels. Some asked about Caroline but he simply said she was sporting a headache and needed to lie down.

         As the last stragglers left, Alfie realized he was left alone with Julia who had held back. She had wanted to speak with the man alone.

         “You’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like, Julia, plenty of rooms upstairs. Elizabeth and Richard have decided to stay.” Alfie offered.

         “That’s quite alright, Alfie.” The older woman responded. “I just wanted to speak with you before I left.”

         “Ah, okay.”

         The two stood in a foyer, a bit of distance between them not just physically but emotionally as well. Alfie knew that he’d gone behind Julia’s back when he and Caroline decided to carry out a relationship against her orders. The woman had been terse with him ever since. Julia wasn’t a person who gave many chances.

         “I wanted to thank you for what you’ve given my niece.”

         The start was a bit surprising to Alfie. He hadn’t expected a thank you from Julia any time soon. “Oh? Oh, well…she deserves it don’t she?”

         “Indeed.” Julia sighed. “I thought I could give her everything she needed. I could look after her, keep her happy, just so long as I kept her safe. Away from harm’s way. I thought you ruined that for me when she told me she loved you. But now I realize…what I see is something I didn’t expect to see. You care very much for my niece, that’s obvious. I was fair in having my doubts but you proved my wrong. However, I realized that you’ve given her the life she always wanted. That was something I couldn’t give her. That’s why I wanted to thank you.”

         Alfie struggled to find the words. It was incredible, thrilling even, to hear those words. “I-erm-I appreciate that.” He would’ve been overjoyed had he not just seen his wife crying on their bed. “I’m trying me best, I s’pose.” He admitted quietly.

         “That’s all any of us can do, Alfie,” Julia reassured him and donned her coat. “Give Caroline my best, I heard you say she wasn’t feeling well.”

         “Yeah, I will.” Alfie ran a hand over his beard and walked Julia out to her car. “Drive safe.” He waved her off and went back inside. The house was shockingly quiet once everyone was gone. It was almost a silence that was solid. Able to be felt by every inch of the body.

         Just to hear something, Alfie cleared his throat and shut the door. He glanced up at the staircase. No doubt Caroline would still want her space. So, he decided to take up in one of the spare bedrooms.

         Even for just one night, it would be difficult being apart from her. 

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Masterlist 

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 5: The Masks We Wear

“You are, without a doubt, the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever met!” Nami screamed, her voice echoing down the steel hallway. Most of the crew had taken cover in any room they could find—things had been tense ever since the sunburn incident over a week ago, everyone walking on eggshells waiting for Law’s inevitable revenge. They all knew it wouldn’t be right away; the man liked to take his time, meticulously planning while his victim was lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he had forgiven and forgotten. There was already a large betting pool on what would happen and when, with theories ranging from her waking up to a room full of organs to being forced to wear a skimpy nurse uniform.

Most were silently praying for the latter.

Across from her, Law glared, arms crossed and knuckles white as a small vein popped in his neck out of frustration. They’d been arguing for nearly ten minutes, and for a man who was used to having his orders followed immediately and enthusiastically, it was quickly growing wearisome. “And you’re the most infuriating little witch I’ve ever encountered. I’m not even asking much; it’s completely within your skillset.”

“Like hell it is! You’d have more luck convincing me to wear your crew’s stupid jumpsuits!”

“And deprive my men of seeing you prance around in practically nothing? Morale would tank.”

She crossed her arms, scowling. “Then we agree; I’m not doing it.”

“Our agreement was that you work for me; that means you listen to my orders and carry them out, no arguments.”

“I absolutely never agreed to the ‘no arguments’ part.”

“All I’m asking is for you to pull your weight by using your skills as the Cat Thief to assist me in a little infiltration job. Or do you not know how to act like a lady?” he taunted.

She bristled at the insult but refused to take the bait. “I already pull my weight; I help Bepo with his maps, guide you through storms, and do my share of chores.”

“I’ll concede to the first two, but I know you’ve been conning the men into doing your cleaning.”

She didn’t even try to stop the pleased smirk from curving her lips. “I can’t help it if they feel like being gentlemen by taking on some extra mopping so I can dedicate my time to more important matters.”

“And you thank them by stealing their wallets.”

“It’s no secret I’m a thief; they should know better than to let their guards down around me. Consider it training; you said I shouldn’t let my skills degrade, and a pretty face like mine could be their downfall if they don’t smarten up.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t removed your hands for it, Nami-ya,” Law replied sourly. “That being said, I’m ordering you to stop stealing from them. It’s not nice to take advantage of your crew.”

Infuriated, she jabbed him in the chest. “They’re not my crew! We’re in a temporary alliance, and I’m fine working with them, but I’m a Straw Hat! Get that through your pigheaded-skull!”

A hand shot forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close to Law’s tall, imposing form. “For all intents and purposes, until the year is up, you’re a Heart Pirate. I said when you first arrived, I intend on making the most of having you on my crew, and I meant it.” Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he quickly changed tactics. A shiver ran up Nami’s spine as he leaned close, hot breath ghosting over her sensitive ear and neck. “You’re stealthy, clever, beautiful, and one of the best burglars on the Grand Line. I can’t imagine a better partner. With our combined skillsets, a job like this should be both easy and extremely profitable. I just need your help searching the place for some classified documents once the party’s in full swing.”

A hint of pink dusted her cheeks at his flattery. “Documents?”

“Inside the main study is a safe full of Marine codes, reports on the various atrocities they’ve caused in the name of ‘justice,’ names of soldiers infiltrating pirate crews—all things that go for millions of belli on the black market. Besides that, our target is known for having expensive tastes. Bejeweled trinkets, high-end art, gold statuettes; the man’s loaded.”

Nami couldn’t help it; belli signs flashed in her eyes at the thought of getting her hands on that treasure. Law’d said he had a big job planned, and clearly, he wasn’t kidding.

It was clear that he had her attention, so the Dark Doctor pressed on, voice dropping an octave to seductively murmur, “And that’s just the study. Imagine all the rich pockets you could pick at the party. Far more profitable than my crew, and anything you manage to steal on your own is completely yours; I won’t even demand a cut.” Brushing his free hand across the sleeve of her borrowed shirt, he added, “I was even generous enough to buy you a new dress for the occasion, since you’ll need to look the part of a rich doctor’s lover.”

As much as she hated it, she was wavering. When he’d first proposed—or more specifically, ordered—she escort him to a party as his date, she’d refused on principle. But damn, after only a month, he was starting to figure out her weaknesses, and right now, money was a big one. She had very little to her name on the ship; most of her clothes were borrowed from Ikkaku, and while they’ve made port a couple times, she hadn’t been able to get much beyond the essentials. So the idea of having fresh, wealthy victims and an outfit of her own that she didn’t even have to pay for was tempting indeed.

Too bad she knew pirates like him didn’t do anything for free.

Ignoring the overwhelming heat of his proximity and her natural greed, hazelnut eyes met his hooded gaze suspiciously. “What’s your real game here, Law?”

To his credit, his lazy grin didn’t falter. “Maybe I just think it’ll be amusing to watch you force yourself to shower me with love and adoration all night.”

Nami didn’t buy it for a second. Beneath the sharp scent of soap and antiseptic, she could smell a con. “And who, exactly, owns the house we’ll be infiltrating?”

The confident expression finally slid off his face. “Baron Harpin Gerald, former Head of Intelligence for the Navy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“He’s over 70 years old—far past his prime.”

“Whitebeard was 72 and still considered the Strongest Man in the World! Garp’s even older and he can throw cannonballs like baseballs! And do you really think a couple of pirates won’t be recognized at a former Marine bigwig’s gala? Especially one of the fucking Supernova?!” she shouted, trying to pull away for the certified madman who’d managed to rope her into service.

Not budging or releasing his hold on the slippery thief, he stated, “Lucky that it’s a masquerade ball, then. A good mask, some temporary hair dye, and no one will suspect a thing. Besides, no pirate would be brazen enough to walk right into the lion’s den.”

“You mean stupid enough.”

“And here I thought you’d enjoy making a little extra cash.”

“I like staying out of jail more. Besides, I’ve seen what your powers can do; you don’t even need to attend the party!”

Gold eyes narrowed in annoyance, though she got the sense it wasn’t fully at her. “On that scale, everyone with eyes will notice a mysterious blue bubble springing up out of nowhere, and someone is sure to raise the alarm,” he countered. “The other problem is that the safe is made out of Seastone—that means my powers are useless, and even touching the damn thing weakens me. So, I need a more traditional thief by my side as back-up.”

Realization hit her like Luffy’s Gum-Gum Bazooka. “You’ve tried to rob him before, haven’t you?”

“Once, about six months ago. Far from a success, though at least the injuries were minimal and he never found out who got past his defenses.”

She frowned. Now it definitely made sense why he wanted to infiltrate the masquerade, but she was still skeptical. “How do you even plan to get us in? If this party’s as fancy as you say, there’ll be a guest list, invitations, at the very list some kind of ID check at the entrance to keep the riffraff out.”

Law reached into his jean pocket, drawing out a shiny, embossed invitation. “Then it’s a good thing Dr. Goodheart Adrian M.D. and his plus-one have already RSVP’d.”

“You really think they’ll fall for a fake invitation?”

“I sent Uni ahead to switch out the guest list with an updated version. Bribed a servant to let him take his place. He sent me a message this morning that he was successful, so we’re in.”

“Like anyone would believe you’re a real doctor.”

“I am a real doctor—I wouldn’t have been able to save Mugiwara’s life if I weren’t,” he said pointedly.

Nami winced. There was that painful reminder of exactly how much she owed this man and that, whether she liked it or not, she was obligated to follow his orders for the sake of their deal. The whole plan sounded absolutely insane, but it was still a plan—far more than she was used to on her own crew.

And she really needed the money. Not just for shopping; being so poor again brought back too many painful memories of her childhood, of being poor and watching Bellemere eat nothing but mikans so her kids would have enough to eat. Of putting aside the majority of her haul after every job, counting down the days until she’d have enough to buy back her village. Of watching those shady Marines destroy the mikan grove, hauling away her stash so Arlong could keep her forever. Treasure was more than just shiny coins and cute outfits to her—it was a safety net, something she clung to as tightly as a child might a security blanket.

Money could keep monsters at bay, and now that she was stuck on a ship with the Surgeon of Death, that fact was more prominent than ever.

So as much as she wanted to refuse and wipe that smug glint from his eye, she knew he had her backed into a corner, where the most she could do was give in gracefully.

At long last, she sighed, “My dress better have pockets.”

XXX

Though she generally preferred casual clothes, Nami appreciated expensive things, and the gown Law had gotten her definitely screamed “money.” The gold satin overdress, embossed with darker gold leopard spots, draped over her curves magnificently, cinching tightly at the waist with a black and gold belt; the bottom had an under layer of stiff interfacing, allowing it to flare out like a ballgown without the need for tulle or petticoats while concealing a daring slit where she could slip her ill-gotten goods into the many hidden interior pockets or expose the pale flesh of her leg as a distraction. The plunging neckline was nearly to her sternum, and the long, billowing sleeves hid her signature tattoo. It was more like an extremely fancy robe in its design, and underneath was a skintight, black, spaghetti-strap bodysuit much better for sneaking around in, her Clima-Tact strapped to her thigh. A string of pearls and matching earrings completed the look—it wasn’t quite as fancy as what she was sure other women would be wearing, but it was what she had, and it was less conspicuous than going unadorned. If she were lucky, maybe she’d have the opportunity to swipe something better off a drunk heiress.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” the Cat Thief grumbled as she carefully applied eyeliner. A long, dark purple wig covered her orange hair, the loose, elegant curls pinned away from her face with a few barrettes inlaid with pearls, letting the rest cascade down her back like a midnight waterfall. Ikkaku had given her permission to use as much of her makeup as needed, and with a bit of contouring and highlighter, Nami could hardly recognize herself.

“I can,” the engineer chimed from her bed where she’d been studying the mansion’s blueprints. She and the rest of the crew were tasked with causing a number of diversions throughout the island that would draw away the guards and authorities, giving the pair inside the perfect opportunity to sneak away to the study. “He made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“What, you want to be Law’s girlfriend for the night? Because I’m willing to trade.”

“Hell no—last time we tried that cover, I couldn’t keep a straight face. Nearly tanked the whole plan. But it’s cute how far he’s willing to go to get you on his side. It’s even funnier that you pretend you don’t like it.”

Nami snorted, brushing on some mascara, pleased with how sultry the fanned-out lashes made her almond eyes. “I don’t like it. He’s a creep, and Luffy’s rival, and I’m still waiting for the day I wake up on his operating table, heart and liver and kidneys on display and ready for sale. Or for him to sell me wholesale to the highest bidder.”

Shaking her head, Ikkaku replied matter-of-factly, “He wouldn’t do that to you unless you really tried to fuck us over. Like, there was one guy who joined up not long after me who tried to sell Bepo to some slavers—Minks go for a lot at auctions. Captain’s not usually one for cold-blooded torture, but he made that bastard suffer. Last we saw him, the guy was in pieces being shipped off to separate corners of the four Blues.”

She shuddered at the image, though she couldn’t bring herself to fault his reaction. The more she got to know Bepo, the more she wanted to protect him, too, and from what she’d gathered, the bear was one of Law’s oldest and closest friends. “Now that I believe, but are you seriously not afraid of him? You’ve seen what he can do, and while he’s not as bad as I thought, you can’t tell me all of his reputation’s government propaganda.”

“Why would I be? Even if he was as ruthless as the papers say, Captain Law takes care of his crew. Plus, I’m indispensable around here, and I grew up with four older brothers, so I know a thing or two about how many buttons I can push before I’m in any real trouble.” She smirked, as if she’d just discovered a big secret. “You’re not scared because you think he’ll actually slice you up—otherwise, you wouldn’t backtalk him so much. What you’re really afraid of is the fact that you’re not at the top of the food chain anymore.”

It gutted her that her friend wasn’t wrong. Though Luffy was captain, from the get-go Nami had basically been the one who ran the ship, bending the others to her will with either her feminine wiles or her fists. And while she certainly had most of the Heart Pirates wrapped around her finger, she didn’t like that Law had real power and authority over her while her usual threats and tactics had minimal effect on the cool captain. “It’s far from the only reason, but yeah, it doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve all been super nice and accommodating—but I’m not exactly a trusting person. And Law’s way more…I guess intimidating is the best word to use, than Luffy ever was. So I’m not going to be joining the guy’s fan club anytime soon.”

“Fair, but just give Captain a chance, yeah? He might surprise you.”

Before she could argue that she wanted absolutely no surprises from the Surgeon of Death, there was a knock at the door, the raps against the metal quick and precise.

“Seems someone’s here to pick you up for your date,” Ikkaku sing-songed.

Hazel eyes glared at her bunkmate as she got up to answer the door. “It’s not a date, and if you call it that again, you’re gonna find out why exactly why I’m Head Bitch in Charge on the Sunny.”

Steeling herself, Nami smoothed down the stiff fabric of her gown, determined to treat this night with the same level of professionalism Law used in the infirmary. A few hours of acting, looking pretty, and sneaking around, and then she could plan her next shopping spree. And despite his arrogance and innuendos, she was sure Law would take this just as seriously—after all, it was his plan, and the payout affected the whole crew. He knew what he was doing, and with the amount of thought and care he put into crafting this elaborate scheme, there was no way he’d risk it by pushing her buttons. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Those reassuring thoughts flew out the window into the ocean depths to probably be eaten by a sea king the moment she opened the door.

“Please tell me that’s not your disguise.”

Looking down at himself, the Dark Doctor’s brow furrowed. “I see nothing wrong with it.” Admittedly, he looked good; midnight blue hair, including his goatee and sideburns, was dyed black, and he’d put in grey contacts to cover the distinctive gold. His suit was sleek black satin, the knee-length, high-collared coat cutting a rather dashing figure. The vest was black and gold brocade, shiny gold buttons and matching watch chain adding a little extra flare. In his hand was a polished mahogany cane with a silver handle shaped like a bird’s skull, and Nami wondered if it was secretly a sword like Brook’s.

Yes, she could admit Law looked very handsome, but it was a shit disguise. For god’s sake, he was still wearing his hat!

“You think some colored contacts and dying your hair is enough to fool people?” she said, exasperated. “You’re a Supernova; your wanted poster’s one of the most recognizable this side of the Grand Line. You didn’t even bother to cover up your tattoos!” she shrieked, pointing at his hands.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her criticism. “You think I should wear gloves, then?”

Nami could have screamed. She’d expect that kind of answer from Zoro or Luffy, not a man who prided himself on his intelligence. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the room, pushing him down into the chair by the mirror and snatching off his hat, tossing it onto her pillow. His lanky figure looked almost comical in the too-small seat, long legs sticking out awkwardly. “Stay there. You’re going to wear gloves, but if you need to take them off for some reason, we want those things covered.” Squeezing out some foundation into her palm, she mixed it with some bronzer until the shade matched his skin tone. “Hold out your hands.”

“I don’t care for being ordered around, Nami-ya,” he growled in warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of getting caught and thrown in jail because you didn’t think the Marines would be suspicious of a guy with DEATH tattooed on his fingers.”

Though he didn’t look happy, he conceded her point, hands steady and still as she applied the makeshift concealer. Definitely the hands of a surgeon, she thought, admiring his natural control. It was comparable to her own when she picked a lock or drew a map; not so much as a tremor, even when under intense scrutiny. Pleased that the black ink was sufficiently covered, she quickly spritzed on some setting spray and finishing powder, hoping the foundation wouldn’t rub off inside the gloves.

Inspecting his face, she then tilted the captain’s chin up, dabbing some concealer under his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing, woman?” he snapped, jerking his head back as if she’d slapped him.

“Covering up those massive bags under your eyes.”

“The hands were one thing, but I’m not letting you put makeup on my face. Besides, I like the world knowing that I’m tired of its shit and ready to kill at any moment.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally the mindset of a respectable, non-pirate doctor,” she sassed, jutting out her hip in annoyance. “It’s not like I’m turning you into a drag queen; just covering up some of your more recognizable flaws.”

His brow twitched at the insult. “I’ll be wearing a mask, so why does it matter?”

“You can still see under your eyes, and they might make you take off the mask at check-in. Are you really willing to risk your ‘perfect’ plan because your fragile male ego can’t handle a little cover-up?”

“Oh, just listen to her, Captain,” Ikkaku chimed from her bunk, the Cheshire cat grin on her face declaring to them both that she was mostly getting involved for her own amusement. “Nami’s the infiltration expert here, and you’re the one who insisted she come with you. Just suck it up.”

“You’re fired,” he snapped, pointing at her sternly as he once more dodged Nami’s attempt to dab him with the sponge.

“You’ve fired me six times since I joined, and I’ll tell you the same thing I always do—get rid of me, and Shachi’s the most qualified person to touch up your tattoos. You want that?”

Law shuddered. “Fine, you’re not fired, but you’re on kitchen duty for a month.”

“Eh, fair enough. Now be a good boy and let Nami tart you up.”

His glare could have melted steel, but he stopped resisting as the navigator carefully covered up the proof of his insomnia. Nami had to admit, she was impressed; Ikkaku hadn’t been kidding when she said she had no fear of the Surgeon of Death. It was also nice to see someone else backtalk him, as most of the time the Heart Pirates seemed to worship the very ground he walked on. It made her feel less like the enemy.

As the dark circles disappeared, she had to admit, she kind of missed them. Even though they could make her tired just by looking at them, they were distinctive and a major part of his normal appearance, and he just looked so different without them. Younger, maybe, and less mysterious.

Normal. Boring. Just…not Law.

Sensing her scrutiny, he raised a dark eyebrow. “Something on my face, Nami-ya? I mean, besides the makeup.”

Suppressing a blush at having been caught, she replied, “Just trying to figure out if you need any highlighter or lipstick. I’ve got a lovely flamingo pink—”

“Try it and Mugiwara-ya will have to find a new navigator,” he snarled, the hard look in his eye and the openness of the threat sending a shiver down the spines of both women.

Not willing to risk her life just to embarrass a man, Nami backed away, hands raised in surrender. Relieved that he wouldn’t be subjected to any more of her powders or creams, Law inspected himself in the mirror, lips twisted in a grimace as he studied the difference it made to his face. Nami couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the indignity of it all or the fact that she’d clearly been right, but grey eyes flicked to his messy black hair.

“I guess the hat did clash with my outfit, huh?”

“To say the least.”

Without a word, he grabbed her hairbrush and began combing it back into something a bit neater and more respectable, even as Nami groused, “Don’t use my things without asking.”

“Fine. May I use your brush?” he asked, not even glancing at her as he kept brushing.

“No, you may not,” she snapped petulantly.

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do, then?” he chuckled, tossing it back on the vanity, smirking at her grinding teeth. His mood was infinitely improved now that he was back in control, and while Nami appreciated not having to worry about being dismembered, a minute part of her wished he’d go back to sulking. “Best get that anger out now, Nami-ya. Once we’re on the island, it’s all smiles.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Getting out of the chair, he smirked down at her, pleased to once more have the height advantage so he could both figuratively and literally look down on the Straw Hat thief. “No, I’m enjoying this. What I’ll love is watching you try to keep that cute little temper of yours in check while we’re in public.”

“Asshole.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

A small vein throbbed on her temple. “Call me sweetheart again and there won’t be enough makeup on the Grand Line to cover up the bruises I’ll give you.”

“What an abusive girlfriend I have. I hope you at least kiss them better.”

“You wish. And if you’re going to be this much of an absolute prick all night, I’m charging you ten million belli per hour.”

“You want me to pay you to be my date? I wasn’t aware prostitution was part of your repertoire.”

“Congratulations; it’s now fifteen million.”

Ikkaku eagerly watched their back-and-forth like a particularly intense tennis match, grinning the whole time.

She didn’t feel particularly sorry for her captain or her roommate; both knew what they were getting into, provoking the other like that. No, she pitied the poor party guests, who had no idea what kind of unholy terror they were about to face.

Ah, to be a fly on the wall.

XXX

Tokken Island was one of the lushest and most beautiful little islands on the Grand Line, but the majority of the land was owned by Baron Harpin, forcing the port town to desperately cling to a jagged shard of the coastline while his enormous mansion and manicured grounds dominated the rest. Luckily, there were plenty of rocky outcrops and sea caves ideal for hiding the Polar Tang, and after teleporting his crew into position, the well-dressed pair made their way through the town.

“And why couldn’t you have Shambled us there or whatever it is?” Nami groused as she nearly stumbled for the third time. She was an expert at maneuvering in high heels, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the inherent dangers of cobblestone streets, especially ones so torn up.

Law chuckled as she finally accepted his proffered arm for support. The stubborn woman had refused to endure and physical contact with him until absolutely necessary, but it seemed the threat of a broken ankle before they could even get to the mansion had finally won her over. “My abilities take a lot of energy, and I’d rather save it in case we need to make a quick escape. Besides, I don’t want people getting suspicious if we pop up out of nowhere.”

She grumbled under her breath that he was probably doing it just to annoy her, even if, logically, he had a point. Wrapping her arm around his bicep for balance, she was finally able to turn her attention from the uneven road to the state of the town itself. Only about half the lanterns were lit, and what illumination they did give didn’t paint a very pretty picture.

The houses were run-down, roofs thatched haphazardly and some windowpanes packed with paper or rags instead of glass. The shops weren’t much better off, the display windows showing off rough-looking fishing supplies, underripe fruit, and cheap clothing. Only a few people were out, most looking worn-out or underfed, and those that didn’t stare at the pair of well-dressed pirates with envy watched them with hunger.

“If the Baron’s so wealthy, why’s the town in such a sorry state?” she wondered aloud. “I mean, just setting up this gala should have brought plenty of business to the port. Docking fees, restocking supplies, even sailors picking up cheap souvenirs—”

“There’s a private dock on the mansions’ grounds that he uses for deliveries and the like,” Law answered, barely sparing a glance at a skinny woman hoarsely calling out to passersbys, a basket of small trinkets thrust out towards them. “None of his business comes to the town—plus, he owns most of the farmland, so any crops are considered his property. All that’s really left is fishing, and the guy’s notorious for hating seafood, meaning these folks are shit out of luck.”

Biting her lip, Nami looked towards the woman again, freezing as a small child, yellow hair tied in twin pigtails down her shoulders, poked her head out from behind her frayed skirts. The little girl looked marginally less skinny than her mother, and without even thinking, the thief broke away from Law to inspect the woman’s wares. It appeared to be mostly jewelry—nothing particularly fancy but in the warm light of a nearby streetlamp she could tell it had been carefully made with decent materials.

“What are you doing?” Law hissed, looking around to make sure they weren’t drawing too much attention—most of the Baron’s guests wouldn’t lower themselves to pass through the slums like this, but he’d didn’t want to take any chances. That, and he wasn’t entirely sure there weren’t villagers desperate enough to try and mug them. He’d rather avoid a fight this early in the evening, and he didn’t want to get his nice, new suit dirty.

Ignoring him, she picked up a simple gold chain with a pendant made of four gemstones. They were beautifully polished, the marquise-cut purple tourmaline the color of the sky at sunrise. Their arrangement was reminiscent of Polaris, or perhaps the compass on her maps. “This is lovely,” she commented. “Is it locally made, or imported?”

The woman hastily explained, “My husband was once the Baron’s personal jeweler. He made beautiful pieces, but they were too simple for the Baron’s tastes. He wanted to impress lady callers, and demanded gaudier jewelry without providing the proper materials,” she said sourly. “My husband got sacked, and I’ve been trying to sell these off for a while. The necklace is 6000 belli on its own, or you can make me an offer for the set?” she said hopefully, indicating the matching ring and earrings in the worn basket, their delicate star designs winking in the dim light.

Immediately Nami could tell this woman hadn’t had any luck for a long time. The quality of the gems alone showed she was drastically underpricing the pieces. It was doubtful anyone in town could afford luxuries like jewelry, and if the Baron monopolized all the outside business at his own port, she probably never even saw other potential clientele. She was probably only even trying her luck now out of desperation. After all, you can’t eat gold, and with a small child to care for, any amount of belli would do.

“It would look really pretty on you,” the little girl murmured politely, large, purple eyes watching her in wonderment. Nami was certain she was the closest thing to a princess the child had ever seen, dressed in finery and on her way to an exclusive party at the glorious mansion on the hill. A real-life Cinderella, something out of a fairy tale she’d use to comfort herself on cold, hungry nights.

Nami had certainly been in those shoes, long ago, and she’d never been able to turn her back on a child in need. Her eyes were even the same color as the tourmaline in the basket.

Well, damn, she thought with a rueful smile. Poor kid could use a fairy godmother. Or at least a Cat Thief.

Pulling a black leather wallet out of her cleavage, she said, “I’ll take the set. How does 30,000 belli sound?”

Law’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened in recognition, immediately patting his pockets to confirm his suspicions. Coming up empty, he glared bitterly when the saleswoman replied, “Tha-that’d be perfectly fine!”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Law grumbled as Nami pulled out some bills, handing them over with all the care of a woman who was fine spending money that wasn’t hers.

The thief matched his glare, tossing him the wallet. “What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t lavish his lover with jewelry?” she huffed, giving the child staring at her with blatant adoration a conspiratorial wink.

“What kind of girlfriend pickpockets her lover’s wallet?” he countered, checking the contents to make sure he was only out 30,000 belli. Satisfied that the rest of his cash was safely in place, he glanced at the little girl, his scowl faltering as his eyes fell on the awestruck face of the little girl. Quickly, his gaze darted back up to the woman who wronged him, glaring like a basilisk.

Fluttering her eyelashes, Nami replied, “The kind who knows just how generous her lover is,” she quipped before turning back to the jewelry seller to collect her purchase. For a moment, a pair of gold barrettes inlaid with clear stones—possibly diamonds, again in the marquise cut—caught her eye, but she knew better than to swipe Law’s wallet twice in one night. So, reluctantly, she only took her purchase, patting the little girl on the head in farewell. When the kid bobbed a curtsy in response, Nami couldn’t hold back her giggle, returning the gesture.

That kid’s going to have one hell of a story to tell her friends tomorrow, she thought cheerfully, jogging slightly to catch up with Law, who’d been less than the image of a handsome prince by storming off up the road without her.

Joining her date, she rolled her eyes in exasperation at the dark scowl on his face. Even without his hat, his black bangs cast ominous shadows over his eyes. He was walking even faster now, and she had to work to keep up with his long strides. It was petty, petulant revenge against the woman who had dared to get the better of him. “Are you mad that I took your wallet, or that you didn’t even notice?” she taunted lightly.

Even from the corner of his eye, his hawk-like glare made goosebumps rise across her shoulders. “I’m mad because you wasted our time and my money,” he snapped. “I already bought you your dress, mask, and wig. My ‘generosity,’ as you put it, has its limits.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she ground out, refusing to feel guilty for her actions. That little girl’s smile had been well worth the price of Law’s irritation, but she also knew she had to appease his anger if they were going to pull off their grand scheme. When he scoffed, she added reluctantly, “With interest.”

“Why’d you even bother?” he asked, indicating the jewels in her hand.

Pulling him to a stop under one of the streetlights, Nami switched her original earrings out for the bejeweled ones. “It’s for the cover. I’m supposed to be a rich doctor’s arm-candy, and my boring pearls would have looked way too simple, especially with this dress. With these, I’ll blend in better.”

“You could have just stolen them.”

She frowned at him, genuinely offended. “I steal from pirates and rich idiots who can afford it. Did you see that woman? I’d bet all the treasure on the Sunny that any money she got went to feeding her kid. I’m not going to even haggle with someone in that kind of situation.” A soft, sad smile graced her lips. “My mother did that. Claimed she was on a diet when she really couldn’t afford to feed all three of us.”

There was a moment of silence as she turned away from him, hoping to collect herself before she started bawling at the memory of Bellemere’s sacrifices. Silently, she thanked her adopted mother, willing back the stinging sensation of tears forming behind her eyes. Ruining her makeup before they even arrived at the gala would do them no good. Besides, Law would probably have some kind of smart-ass comment about it.

The refusal to let her temporary captain see her so weak, she brushed away her sadness to focus on her new jewelry. Slipping on the ring, she admired how it gleamed under the warm lamplight. It was a tad too big, fitting most comfortably on her middle finger, but she found the style suited her. She might even wear the set on a night out sometime; maybe to celebrate tonight’s success. Assuming the plan didn’t go to shit, that is.

She jumped when he finally responded, “I hate to say it, but that does look good on you.” When she turned her head, she couldn’t fight the sudden blush that spread across her cheeks. Worryingly, she couldn’t tell if it was due to his sudden, intimate proximity or the small, appreciative smile lifting his lips. Such an expression seemed too gentle for the famed Supernova, and yet she found she rather liked the way it softened and relaxed his features. “You’re surprisingly soft-hearted for a pirate, though.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, struggling to maneuver the tiny clasp through her thick wig. Suddenly having so much hair was a real pain, and she wondered how she’d ever manage if she grew her own hair out. Short was more practical, after all, and looked cute on her to boot.

“Here, let me help,” his smooth voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her curls carefully gathered to rest over her shoulder. Nimbly, he took the necklace and fastened it securely around her neck. Tingles ran down her spine as the smooth leather of his black gloves brushed her bare skin, and the whole thing felt strangely intimate. Turning her around, Law studied his date. The pendant rested just above the dip of her bountiful cleavage, sparkling invitingly. “I’m pretty sure it’s still too simple for this crowd, but it works better than the pearls.”

Her reply was cut off by the curls she’d pinned up tumbling into her face, only to be swept back into place, secured by his deft fingers. He cupped her chin, appraising his work before nodding. Suspicious, because Trafalgar Law’s approval was never a good thing in her mind, she reached up to touch her hair, russet eyes widening when she felt gemstones instead of pearls. Head snapping back to look at the mother and daughter, her jaw dropped when she saw the little girl holding a wad of bills, beaming even more brilliantly than before while the saleswoman looked close to tears.

Turning to her partner in crime for the night, Law responded with a nonchalant shrug, though she could see his grey eyes soften as they lingered on the child excitedly waving back at them. “The pearl clips didn’t match the rest, and if we’re going to pull this off, we’d best go all-out. Plus, that cash’ll ensure their silence should they be questioned by the authorities later. I’d rather your kindness not get us identified.”

It was all very logical and well-thought-out and total bullshit. Nami had to smile as she once again took his arm, matching his easy gait as they made their way up towards the mansion. “Right. Because I’m the soft-hearted one.”

“You’re paying me back for those, too, by the way,” he quipped, smirking at her annoyed growl.

Before she could argue, he halted; the brilliant lights of the mansion were in sight, and small groups of well-dressed guests were gathering at the ornate front gate. It was time to stop being Cat Thief Nami and the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law, bickering pirates, and become a loving couple. Gently as a forest stream, Nami adjusted her body language, leaning comfortably against her partner, hand clutching his bicep possessively, face switching from a seething scowl to the deliriously happy grin of a woman pathetically enamored with her companion.

For his part, Law seemed to morph into his role just as fluidly, posture straightening into something more refined, his smile relaxed and charming; perfectly playing the part of a man who knew he was smart, good-looking, successful, and could easily use all that to get a woman as beautiful as the one on his arm.

Inside, Nami groused that he had the way easier acting job.

As they made their way up the mansion’s long, winding front path, crushing artfully sprinkled rose petals beneath their feet, Law slipped on a raven mask, the sharp beak curving over his nose and the shiny black feathers fanning out like little spikes over his cheeks and forehead. Nami was grateful she’d covered up his dark circles—the eye holes were definitely wide enough where they would have been distinctly visible.

In contrast, her mask was modeled after a cat, the color and leopard spots mimicking her gown perfectly. It flawlessly concealed the upper half of her face, while the large eyeholes showed off her beautiful eyes and wouldn’t block her sightline too badly.

Approaching the doorman, Law handed over their invitation, smirking when the servant checked it against the guest list before nodding, ushering them both inside. Another servant led them down an extravagantly decorated front hallway. The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Baron was an art collector with expensive tastes; masterpieces in gold frames hung along the walls, marble statues and painted porcelain vases were displayed on opulent pedestals, and even the crimson rug beneath their feet was luxuriously soft.

Nami had to briefly bury her head against Law’s shoulder to hide the belli signs that sparkled in her eyes.

Eventually, they reached the ballroom, and as they waited to be announced, Law affectionately brushed his lips across her hair. “Ready for some fun?” he murmured, his tone affectionate but the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips screamed of devilish intentions.

She mirrored his smile and tone, eager to line her pockets and relish in luxury for a while before the real job began. “Absolutely.”

As the ballroom doors opened, the servant next to them announced them to their fellow guests.

“Presenting Dr. Goodheart Adrian and his escort, Ms. Chaton Bellemere!”

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 32

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 32: Faith, Hope and Love, Pt. 1

(11) When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. (12) For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

(13) And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

-1 Corinthians 13:11-13

“Dutch,” said Hosea.

They had gone out to fish, as an avenue to talk. They were in a canoe on the Lanahechee. Hosea had got the letter while they were in the saloon, but it was too crowded there, and Dutch was losing his mind. Neither of them was fishing at the moment. Hosea had Arthur’s letter folded in his pocket. Dutch was sitting with his head in his hands, his rod discarded to his side.

“Perhaps Shady Belle,” said Dutch. “Why does that boy make everything so goddam difficult, Hosea.”

“I don’t think that’s his intention.”

“I offered him Shady Belle.”

“Please.”

Dutch placed his hands on either side of the canoe, holding on, and with it, you could see the full brunt of his wingspan. He was shaking his head. “I wanted Shady Belle.”

“It is what it is,” said Hosea. “And unfortunately, with recent developments, Dutch—the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons. I really think you should…consider staying behind.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re too damn hot right now,” said Hosea. “Arthur doesn’t know about Hanging Dog. He wants you there, but I don’t want us bringing a massacre down on his wedding, Dutch. That would be…far too fitting, given everything we’ve been going through lately. I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“You think I’d bring down a massacre?”

“Maybe,” said Hosea. “Not intentionally, of course. But if somebody were to spot you, follow you. These are innocent people, and it’s just too important. You being there is a big risk.”

Dutch sighed. He looked off into the murky haze of the river. It was morning, still early. “Remind me,” he said. “Who exactly are these innocent people, Hosea?”

“You mean the owners of the B&B?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Winterson is a doctor, that's all I know. Other than that, Arthur doesn’t really say.”

“He’s so goddam trusting.”

“You ought to give him some credit,” said Hosea. “After all these years. He might be good at playing the angry idiot, but he’s smart, Dutch. He’s made far fewer mistakes than you or I, and you know it.”

Dutch gave him a look, cracked his knuckles, placed his hands back onto the canoe, as if he were bracing himself for something—an earthquake. “If I don’t go with you, I don’t want you riding alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Take Charles.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Then take the damn train.”

“What do you think is gonna happen?”

“You may not have been on that ferry with me, Hosea,” said Dutch, “but there’s men out there—enemies—who know what you look like. Besides, you’re not well.”

“I’m alive,” said Hosea. “I’ll ride fast and quiet. I know how to keep a low profile.”

“If you can keep a low profile, why do you assume that I cannot.”

Hosea said nothing. He picked up his rod, stood and cast his line. “We’ll have a party back at camp,” he said. “Have Pearson and Susan do it up right. It’ll be fun.”

Dutch took a long, deep breath. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

Hosea glanced at him, glad for the change of subject. “You’re telling me.”

“You talk to Trelawny any more about that poker game.”

“I did,” said Hosea, scrubbing his neck. “This morning, before you were awake.”

“And?”

“And he managed to get Arthur a buy-in, but under curious circumstances.”

“Which are.”

“The invitation is for Tacitus Kilgore, and his wife.”

Dutch shook out his head. “His wife? Whatever for?"

“Because that’s who interests Bronte, and Bronte is the one who secured the invitation.”

“Bronte.”

“Mary Beth made quite a splash. I’m not sure that was intended.”

“Not exactly. She was meant to be a distraction, not the main event.”

“You still think he won’t take her?” said Hosea. “This really complicates matters. I’d be concerned it was a set-up, but I can’t see the m.o. for that. It’s poker, and Bronte knows that Arthur is an outlaw. Nobody expects an outlaw who can cheat convincingly at cards. They expect robbing and killing and that’s it. And plus, Trelawny said that Bronte just seemed to genuinely like Mary Beth. I can get to work on the backstory, if that’s what’s at stake. I still know a couple of Texas Rangers who owe us, back in Galveston. They can come up with something, put a good name on it. It would be easy. It’s just a matter of convincing Arthur.”

Dutch leaned back and studied him, full of scheming. “What do you mean Bronte liked Mary Beth.”

“He was taken with her. He thought she was interesting. That’s what these people do, Dutch. They collect interesting people and stick them in a room with other interesting people. It’s a game. They’re like—like museum curators or something.”

Dutch sighed. “She’s definitely pregnant?”

“That’s what the letter says.”

“We’ll have to talk to him,” he said. “And by we, I mean you. He won’t listen to a goddam word I say anymore.”

“If he cheats the cards, he’ll take the table,” said Hosea. “It’d be like the old days. We’re talking upwards of ten thousand in the pot, Dutch. Maybe more.”

“Talk to him,” said Dutch. He got up too now and cast his line. A whole bunch of pretty little egrets were on the other side of the riverbank, all sunning and standing in a row. “Can I see that letter again?”

“Sure.” Hosea reached into his pocket, handed it over with no question. The atmosphere on that canoe relaxed a little. It was all composed, real quiet. “I know you’re happy for him,” said Hosea, turning the reel. “I know you are, Dutch. We’ll have a party back at Shady Belle. We’ll get the wedding behind us, and then we’ll move forward. Mary Beth is having a baby. It’s a blessing, all of it.”

Dutch was only half-listening, reading the letter again. He held the rod in one hand. The fish were quiet that morning and the air seemed dusty and somehow brown. The sky was full of pollution from St. Denis.

“Did you hear me?” said Hosea.

“Which part.”

“The part about all this being a blessing.”

Dutch folded the letter up and kept it. He focused on his line again, the fish nipping at the surface of the water. “Yes, I heard you,” he said.

“And?”

“And it’s a blessing indeed, Hosea. A blessing indeed.”

Neither of them caught anything that day. When they got off the canoe, they separated. Hosea rode back to Shady Belle to prepare for the trip to Emerald Ranch, and Dutch stayed behind. He sat down on a fallen Tupelo that looked prehistoric, and he rested his elbows on his knees. It was hot, so Dutch knotted his hair off his face and rolled his sleeves up. He took off his vest, and he tossed it into the river.

Dutch sometimes felt as if he were shedding pieces of himself one by one. His money, his gang, his control. He saw in the corner of his eye a beautiful flower then, growing on the side of a nearby tree. It was big and robust, looking like some sort of internal organ growing out in the open. It was an orchid. He had never touched an orchid before, not like this. He walked over to pick it, and then he held it in his hand and admired its mystery. It winked back at him but it was already dying. It had red petals and reminded him of all the women he’d ever loved. It was only three of them and two of them buried, and one of them he didn’t love anymore.

When Dutch had found Mary Beth four years back, her pockets full of rich men’s jewelry in Kansas City, he saw in her traces of Annabelle. Kind of mean and feral when put upon but in her nature, just full of kindness and stories. He knew that it was bullshit. He knew that men were idiot dogs, and any pretty girl between him and his salvation, he would just imprint with the face of the last pretty girl who made him smile. He forgot about her. She became friends with Arthur, and years went by. Molly came along, somewhere back in Colorado, and Dutch fell in love with her, because he fell in love easy, and she made him feel special, and because she liked poetry, and she could write it and then read it in her voice and old country accent that made him soft. She was better than he was. She was what he deserved if he had not lost his daddy and left his mother decades before, entering the life of some rabid, outlaw king. Things had gotten so far away. Dutch’s mother was buried in Blackwater, and all their money from that horrible ferry job was buried in the cemetery right beside her. Molly was lost to him, and Mary Beth was now marrying Arthur, and time had become circular.

Dutch had lost too much and it was making him possessive of all that remained—in violent, ugly ways. Hosea was dying. When Dutch went on and on about getting money and getting free, mostly what that meant to him was proving himself and his ideas, but it also meant getting Hosea somewhere safe, some place where he would not die so soon. He loved Hosea more than he could ever have admitted to himself. He gazed into the heart of the orchid in his hand. He thought about his own mortality. He thought about Arthur. Dutch was envious of Arthur. Not for having Mary Beth where he could not, but for finding peace in a woman, like he once did, and getting to start over right where Dutch had left off. It wasn’t fair. Was it? Why did Arthur get to have the woman he loved, safe as houses, pregnant with his child, not swinging from a tree but marrying him on a stranger’s ranch near Emerald Station? And yet, Dutch would have done anything to preserve them. He was terribly confused. It made him want to hurt somebody.

He could not miss Arthur’s wedding. That would be bad, he thought, as he stood there at the edge of the swamps, holding a pretty flower in his hand. No matter what Hosea said. That would hurt Arthur, and it would push him away even further than he already was. But every time he disobeyed Hosea, it all kept going rotten. What was he gonna do? He was so full of his ugly pride. He thought about how Arthur—he didn’t have a lot of pride inside him, and this was another thing. There was so little left. It had all gone away long ago with a pretty girl and a little boy who’d got murdered by animals. For a long time, it made Dutch and him the same. But now, Arthur was moving on.

He got on his horse that day, and he tucked the orchid delicately into his saddlebag. He then rode back to St. Denis and tied him up in the stable, paid the hand an extra 50% to keep him watered and in good condition while he was away. He then bought a decent but shoddier horse, a sturdy old Kentucky Saddler and named her Jean. Mean Jean, he said as he patted her on the flank. How I love you, my Mean Jean. He went to the tailor. He bought new clothes. He changed, and then he had a fine, silver suit jacket tailored to his size with a little give in the chest and shoulders. The lapels were embroidered with a delicate fleur-de-lis, which Dutch knew was symbolic of purity and the holy trinity. He told the tailor he was getting married. The tailor was very happy for him. Dutch was a hair taller than Arthur, but Arthur was bigger than him across the back, and this was about as good as he could remember. It would do. Arthur would look good in the silver, Dutch decided, as his coloring was very gold. Dutch folded up the jacket with his bedroll and rode away from St. Denis wearing a new hat. He hated traveling in costume, but this was his life now. This was what it had come to. He was torn between getting away from it all and getting revenge on those who had pushed him to the edge and it was all terrible.

He was looking at the pattern now, as what had happened with Colm and Mary Beth had loosened something up inside him and made him see. Dutch may have been frayed around the edges, but he was no idiot. If Molly stuck with him, she would only end up dead. He was going to give that orchid to her—a peace offering—and he was going to give her a bunch of money, and he was going to tell her it was over and hope she went away to live a better life, far from him. Then he was going to ride to Emerald Ranch and try to find something hopeful there, if something hopeful existed, or if it was all just disappearing into the belly of the whale. He had to go. He had to find Arthur, remind him of what mattered. He knew Hosea would be angry, but he decided that Hosea was wrong, and that regardless, he did not care.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to wear,” said Arthur. He was leaning against a tree, eating cherries out of his hand, spitting the pits into the weeds. They had stopped in a little grove about twenty miles north of Emerald Station to have some dinner and water the horses. There was a creek nearby with a beaver building a dam. It seemed territorial so they didn’t get too close. “What does a man wear to his wedding?”

"Didn’t you see Hosea get married to Bessie?” said Mary Beth. She was nearby, drawing shapes in the dirt with a long stick. “What did he wear.”

“I don’t remember,” he said. “I was fifteen.”

“That’s so young,” said Mary Beth. “I can’t imagine you being so young.”

Arthur smiled, took off his hat and tossed it to the blanket where they had eaten their lunch. The day was warm. “Be glad you didn’t know me then. You would have hated me, for I was a fool.”

“No way,” she said. She drew a steeple, a sun. “I would have known right away that we was soul mates.”

This warmed his heart. He finished the cherries and went over to her, crouched by her side to see what she was doing. “What are you makin?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just shapes.”

“That looks like a church.”

“It is a church.”

Overhead, a huge raven pushed off a tree branch and took off into the sky. It made a huge, cawing sound, and it was loud enough they both looked up to see. “It’s nearly dark,” said Arthur. “We should get going.”

“I’m nervous,” said Mary Beth. “When we get there, it’s gonna be all this attention.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Arthur. He was watching her. She looked up at him with her pretty eyes. “Just focus on me.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Her hair was curly from the heat. She had taken off her sweater, and her sleeveless blouse was sticking a little to her skin. He put some the hair behind her ear, then some more, and he studied the freckles on her neck, and he leaned forward to kiss them.

When he wanted her, it sometimes took him a moment to remember that he could have her. But he was getting better at that, his confidence returning to him little by little, every day. He kissed her. She kissed him back and things got needful so fast. She moved fast. He laid her down on the blanket, and she asked him to touch her. She said just that. Touch me. So he did. He reached into her skirt and pulled away her underthings, and he touched her, pressing right up against her until she came, making her soft moans that excited him. Then he took off his own belt as she floated back down. He watched her face, ruffled up her skirt around her waist, and then he got inside her, deep.

She sort of squeaked, clutching him. He felt stupid with how good it was. She was incredibly wet, and both of their bodies were sweating in the heat from the day, and it was all so wet, like they couldn’t get close enough. He opened the buttons of her blouse with one hand so he could see and feel everything, and she tugged his shirt back off his shoulders, and everything came away, all as they kissed and fucked in the warmth of the forest. He had not felt this free in so many years, and he knew she’d never had it like this. It went on for a long time, and then at some point, she stopped him, because she wanted to try something different. She was curious. She pushed him back a little, and he guided her onto her hands and knees, and it made him feel very thankful and awed. He pushed all of her hair away and kissed the back of her neck as he glided back into her that way, and she arched with him and said his name. He kissed her shoulder, her ear, pressed his mouth to her skin, holding her tightly to himself with one arm, and she reached up to hold him around the back of his neck as he began again.

It was a slow build to a long end. He near on shuddered as he finished, like he was suddenly freezing cold and emptied of something bad. But then he was warm again. He held onto her. She turned her head and grabbed his face to kiss him. They didn’t talk. They just lowered to the blanket, him wrapped around and still inside, and they stayed puzzled together like that for a long time.

As the sun went down, they got up to dip in the river, and then they got dressed. Mary Beth didn’t know how it was going to work, with being pregnant—she already felt bloated somehow, like she was starting to show but Arthur said that to him, she looked exactly the same. She still got tired toward the middle of every day, like her body was badly in need of fueling. She ate bread to keep away the feeling of nausea, but in truth, it wasn’t so bad. She had some heightened anxieties. She was worried about being the center of attention. For as playful and free as she was with Arthur, she only showed this part of herself to him and a select few people in the entirety of all time and the world. She was worried about losing him. It was just a big, generic fear. She’d had a couple of dreams that he had died, or that he had never existed at all. She had one dream that she was holding his tiny baby, and she was standing over a huge, deep hole that went so far down it was only blackness. The baby was much smaller than she thought it should be. She was afraid she would drop the baby in the hole. In the dream, Arthur existed, but he was not there. She didn’t know where he was. She couldn’t remember. She had lost him somewhere and became panicked that she would never find him again.

When they rode past Emerald Ranch and were on their way to the Wintersons,' it was half past nine. The sky was long and dark, and the stars were very bright. You could see the whole galaxy, and pillars of smoke from chimneys and little camping sights off in the hills that stacked up toward the horizon. At some point, they were stopped on the road by a man riding up behind them who called out in a strange, deep voice. Arthur stopped them both right away, and he turned around with his hands on the reins. He was squinting into the darkness as the stranger approached on his horse, wearing a hat with a very low brim. Mary Beth idled some ways back.

“Who is that?” she said to Arthur.

“You lost?” said Arthur to the man. He didn’t seem concerned.

“No, son,” said the man. He took off his hat. He rode closer. It was Dutch.

This was a huge surprise. Mary Beth trotted up beside Arthur and became very happy and relieved. “Dutch?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Arthur laughed, once. Big and deep, amused by his costume. “You old fool. What are you doing out here on a horse like that? Where’s the Count?”

Dutch trotted up, smiling. He was dressed in a modest brown scout jacket, still somehow shiny as can be. “The Count is back in St. Denis, being pampered by an overenthusiastic ranch hand with a bald head and leather chaps. And I am coming to your wedding, you goddam idiot. What the hell else would I be doing in this backwater territory?”

“You’re dressed like a damn messenger boy.”

“This here is called keeping a low profile,” said Dutch. “Or so I’m told. I’ll have to show Hosea what I mean. He thinks he left me behind in Lemoyne.”

“What?”

“We need to talk,” said Dutch, steadying his horse. "Not now, later."

“What are we talking about.”

“About some…mistakes I’ve made over the past two weeks. But you should not let that worry you now.” He looked at Mary Beth then, seeming to fill with pride, and he pressed his hat to his heart. “Miss Gaskill. You look lovely as always.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Where is Hosea?” said Arthur.

“About twenty-four hours ahead of me,” said Dutch. “Congratulations, by the way. I hear you’re adding one more to our brood. It is truly a blessing.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “It is.”

Dutch nodded and looked around in a suspicious manner. He put the hat back on his head. “I think I rode past the place by accident—this bed and breakfast from your letter. Are we close?”

“Yes,” said Mary Beth. “It’s just a few miles up.”

“You didn’t miss it by much,” said Arthur.

“Very good,” said Dutch, smiling. “I need to stop at the fence. I hate to arrive empty-handed.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “For coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” said Dutch.

They went along, the pretty nighttime country unfolding all around them, as a postcard.

Back at the Wintersons' Abigail was hard at work. She and Lizette were putting together a dress for Mary Beth. Lizette had all the fabric and had got a decent start, and Abigail was there, making the lace fringe at the sleeves and the collar, and also to estimate Mary Beth’s measurements. She’d known her long enough and mended her dresses in the past—it wasn’t so difficult.

Reverend Swanson still had not arrived, but there was time to spare, and nobody was worried yet. John and Hosea were out on the porch that night, smoking, and John was drinking whiskey out of a tin cup. Lawrence had been out there with them earlier but had work to attend to inside, and now it was just the two of them. They were expecting Arthur and Mary Beth now that the sun had gone down. They were watching the tree line.

“I know Arthur talked to you about the business of going north, with him and Mary Beth,” said Hosea. “Have you made any decisions?”

John nodded, blowing out all the smoke from his lungs and feeling cooled considerably by the evening call. It had been a warm day, and he’d spent a lot of it with Jack, running around the property, chasing the hounds and playing some other such games. It had been kind of cleansing, but he probably could have done with a bath. “Yeah,” he said. “Me and Abigail are with them. All the way.”

“Good,” said Hosea, seeming relieved. “It’s about time, John.”

“But Arthur and Mary Beth, they’re worried,” John said, looking down at his whiskey. “About the gang. I think reality is—it’s setting in a little bit. They don’t wanna leave people in a bind.”

“I know,” said Hosea. He tossed his cigarette to the porch and stamped it out with the heel of his boot. “I’m not surprised. I think it’ll be okay. Dutch and I are working on something new. I think we might be able to get back what we lost in Blackwater.”

“No shit,” said John. “What about the bank.”

“I’m still working on that,” said Hosea, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief from his pocket. “If we’re gonna pull a big city bank job, I’m not taking any chances.”

“I’ve never robbed a city bank before,” said John. He finished his whiskey. “Seems dangerous.”

“You’re telling me.”

They stood for a while, listening to the crickets.

“Where’s Dutch, Hosea.”

Hosea sighed.

“He ain’t here,” said John. He tossed the cigarette, then the tin cup, turned to him. “It ain’t right. I was trying to keep cool, but Arthur’s gonna be—how could he do this?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it? What the hell is going on?”

“Please, John. Relax.”

“No.”

They heard horses then, coming over the hill up ahead. John looked up, instantly distracted and left the porch. He went down the steps and saw them—Arthur and Mary Beth, coming up side-by-side.

“It’s about time!” said John, walking out on the lawn to greet them. They hitched up, and John dusted his hands together and helped Mary Beth off her horse. Arthur hopped down, too, and they met with an earnest embrace. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” said Arthur. “Thanks for being here.”

“Well we was surprised to hear, you know, about the wedding. But it’s good. We’re real happy.” He looked at Mary Beth then. “About the wedding, the baby, all of it.”

Mary Beth was very pleased. “Thank you, John.”

Hosea was there now, too. He hugged Mary Beth to his chest with a surprising strength, and he shook Arthur’s hand and congratulated him. “This is the right choice,” he said. “For both of you. Mary Beth, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she said, straightening her skirt pleats. “A little tired, but nothing too bad. I’m afraid my hair looks like a rat’s nest at the moment.”

“You look radiant,” said Hosea.

She blushed.

“We was surprised to see Dutch out on the road,” said Arthur. “What the hell is going on?”

Hosea stopped on a dime. “Come again?"

“He’s here?” said John.

Arthur looked at them both like they were batshit. “Apparently. We found him on his way to getting lost. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for the two of you to be traveling apart from one another, old man. Perhaps it’s time you get sewn together at the hip.”

Hosea looked away, like he was conflicted. “Yes well. That would be eccentric.”

“Where is he?” said John.

“Ran to the fence. Said he didn’t wanna show up empty-handed.”

“Sounds like Dutch.”

From inside now, you could hear Abigail, just sweeping with excitement. She must have heard the commotion. “Oh my god,” she said, and she appeared at the door, and then she threw open the screen and picked up her skirt and ran down the stairs. She hugged Arthur and then Mary Beth, and she grabbed Mary Beth by the hand. “You two!” she said. “Surprising us like that.”

“It was last minute,” said Mary Beth. “I wish we could have warned you.”

“Oh please,” said Abigail. “Don’t you worry. Now come on. I got something to show you.” She began to drag her up the stairs, back to the house.

“Where we going?” said Mary Beth. “I could really use a bath before I do much else.”

“Oh you smell like a peach,” said Abigail. “Later.” She glanced back at Arthur then as she tugged Mary Beth inside. “Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan,” she said. “I’ll bring her back to you.”

“No doubt,” said Arthur. Mary Beth looked back and Arthur sent her off with a two-finger salute. He lit a cigarette. “Abigail is one emphatic woman,” he said to John.

“She’s sewing Mary Beth a dress,” said John. “With Mrs. Winterson. She’s just excited.”

Arthur was taken by this, smiled, real proud. “She’s making her a dress?”

“She is.”

“It’s a real beauty,” said Hosea.

Just then, they heard another horse, rustling through the trees up ahead, making its big horse noises. There was a lull, and then they saw Dutch coming through, as expected. He was riding up, looking casual, holding a bottle of champagne by the neck. “Gentlemen!” he said.

Hosea said nothing.

“Dutch, what the hell?” said John. “What the hell you riding?”

Dutch got off his horse, hitched her up next to Sarah. He ignored John’s question altogether. “I brought libations. Arthur, my boy. And young John.” He tipped his hat. “Hosea.”

John shook his hand. He seemed earnestly surprised. “You’re goddam here. I thought you wasn’t coming.”

“Of course I came.” Dutch clapped him on the shoulder and went right past. “Have a little bit of faith, son.” He gave Hosea a look, and then he just went on and entered the house. "Come along, Mr. Matthews."

"Dutch, hang on."

But he wasn't listening. He was already inside, calling out through the foyer: “Mr. and Mrs. Winterson? Your final guest has arrived, and I come bearing gifts.”  He was like some sort of natural disaster, knocking over everything in its way.

They all stood there, feeling flattened in his wake. Hosea shook out his head, pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

“What the hell is going on?” said Arthur. “Did I miss something?”

“Later,” said Hosea. “We can talk later. For now, enjoy the evening. It's your evening, after all, Arthur. I need to get inside to broker Dutch’s introduction to Lawrence Winterson. That man is canny, and Dutch has a way of…well let’s just say he can be overbearing at times.”

“I’ll be right there,” said Arthur, smoking.

“Sounds good.” He smiled, looking weary. “You look well, son.”

“So do you.”

Hosea seemed amused by this. He took off his hat and went inside.

Now, it was just Arthur and John. Arthur gave John a cigarette. John lit it with a match from his pocket off the sole of his boot. “How you feelin?” he said. He stood, smoking and surveying the evening lawn. It looked almost blue in the moonlight. “With Mary Beth being pregnant and everything.”

“I’m good,” said Arthur. “Though I ain’t sure it’s quite sunk in yet.”

“I hear that,” said John. He took a deep breath, blowing the smoke. “The reverend ain’t shown.”

“That’s okay,” said Arthur. He seemed unshaken. Very sturdy as he stood there. He was a little taller than John, and bigger and meaner but also somehow just…shiny. He had always seemed like that. Even when he was outright dirty as hell.

“You know, you smell like the goddam river,” said John.

“Shut up.”

They knew they had to get inside but it was just a moment longer then, and they stayed to look at the fireflies, thinking about the future. At some point, as the heat was easing off for good into the nighttime call, Lawrence came out. He was holding a flute of champagne and looked happy in the lines of his face. “Arthur,” he said. “It is good to see you.”

Arthur flicked the cigarette and straightened up right away. John watched how he changed, how he removed his hat and shook Lawrence’s hand firmly, with intent. “Thank you so much again, for letting us do this.”

“It is our pleasure.”

“I hope Dutch ain’t already overstayed his welcome. He’s a bit of a showman, I must admit.”

Lawrence smiled. “That, he is. But he did bring very good French champagne. Lizette is pleased.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Will you two be joining us inside?” said Lawrence. “There’s food.”

“Yes, sir.”

They all went in, John following Arthur’s lead. He put his cigarette out and entered the golden glow of the warm house. There was something going on, he thought, with Dutch and Hosea. Jack was upstairs, asleep. He watched Abigail talking with Mary Beth as they sipped their champagne, both of them so excited. Sweet and pretty girls. He tried to let it soak into his insides, but he couldn’t shake this bad feeling. Or, it wasn’t bad. Just...weird. Off. He didn’t know what to think—about Dutch, about what the hell he was doing there, about Hosea being all cagey. But at least, for once, he was thinking. This seemed like a good start. Dutch brought him and Arthur some champagne where they stood over by the piano, and then he raised his glass and toasted to the happy couple.

“Love does not delight in evil," he said, "but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." That is how he closed his speech.

“Hear, hear,” said Abigail.

They drank.  

[popatochisssp]

Make Your Mark, 8/10

Series: Undertale, Swapfell Relationship(s): SF!Papyrus/Reader Chapter Warnings:  Potential tw before the cut for being drunk around unpleasant people, nothing happens but could be scary, take care of yourselves!

AO3 Link

In a world where soulmates exist, monsters and humans have one thing in common: the first time two soulmates touch, a mark randomly appears somewhere–anywhere– on their bodies to represent their match.

It still doesn’t make relationships easier…but maybe it does make them a little more interesting!

You…may have made some bad decisions.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time to go out and celebrate your move to a brand new city. You didn’t have any friends yet to go with, or any idea of where to go, but you didn’t really see why that should stop you from having a good time.

You were in Ebott now, the very definition of excitement and opportunity!

…But…you were coming to realize that there was perhaps such a thing as too much excitement.

Casual revelry with strangers at a monster bar was fun at first. So were the glowing, sparkling, color-changing drinks they’d encouraged you to try, even buying them for you when you admitted you were on a bit of a budget.

You’d been having a great time.

But now, somewhere between the drinks and the strangely-colored smoke in the air, you’re…kind of intoxicated and… the smiles your new monster friends are giving you seem to be taking a turn for the sinister.

You wave off the next glass slid your way and get up, trying not to stumble. You’re met with groans, chiding and coaxing you to stay, just a little longer, but no, no, you really can’t.

You’re disoriented, struggling to remember where the exit was and how to get there while cloying claws and paws and tentacles brush against you, not quite trying to hold you back…

Yet.

It occurs to you that probably every eye in this place is squarely on you—the lone, dizzy human making itself easy pickings—and it sets your heart going hard against your ribs, robbing you of precious breath.

For one terrifying second, you feel like you’re about to faint.

And then, an arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you into somebody.

You look up into the eye-lights of an actual skeleton— tall and menacing, with one gleaming golden fang.

“you’re cute,” he tells you in a low, raspy voice. “let’s get out of here.”

“Uhh—?”

You don’t have a chance to argue.

The skeleton is strong and he tows your dazed and staggering self along with him like it’s nothing, and you certainly don’t have the wherewithal to fight him.

You look around and in a moment of clarity, you realize you’re suddenly being given a very wide berth.

You don’t know what to make of that.

As you’re dragged out of the bar, into the empty street behind it, the ever-worsening nature of your predicament hits you: you were really, actually about to become a statistic, mugged or murdered or worse in an alley with no one around for miles to call or even notice you were missing.

You think you’re too scared right now to even scream for help, anyway.

Suddenly, you stagger as the arm around you unceremoniously lets go.

“……sorry,” the skeleton says. “i shoulda asked ‘fore i… i just……didn’t really have any other…ideas…”

All you can do is stare at him, blankly.

Under your gaze, his cheekbones go a stunning shade of violet and he turns to stare at the wall of the building, like he can’t quite look at you.

“i mean. you… you just…looked kinda nervous? i…i saw you an’ thought, ‘hell, i know that feeling,’ an’ you didn’t come in with anybody, so. …not!” he hastily adds, “that i was watchin’ you or anything, uh, weird, just, humans, you stick out, an’ you were alone, so if you needed help, i………”

The skeleton pauses, sweat beading along his skull as something seems to occur to him.

“maybe you were havin’ fun?” he wonders with a wince. “in which case, i, uh…probably ruined your night ‘cause i didn’t… i didn’t even ask you…!”

He breaks off with a wordless noise of embarrassed frustration and your fuzzy brain can’t quite parse…most of all that anxious word-vomit, but you at least get the last bit.

“I wasn’t,” you hastily blurt out. “I wasn’t…having fun, I… Thank you, for…for getting me out of there? I… Thanks.”

The skeleton looks very relieved to hear that.

“o-oh…yeah, that’s…it’s fine,” he shrugs, with the most forced nonchalance you’ve ever seen in a shrug. “i mean, you probably shouldn’t…go places like that alone, though? humans know about the buddy system, don’t they?”

You can’t be sure, but you might be blushing, too.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t see you with a buddy,” you mutter, maybe a little childishly.

“i got…connections,” the guy tells you. Then, he laughs a little. “…nyeheheh, and a…a pretty good ‘resting bitch face.’”

You snort. “Yeah? Let’s see it.”

The skeleton takes your dare and it’s like flipping a switch—the shy magic coloring vanishes from his cheekbones and he fixes you with a look nothing short of stony. His expression is flat and his skull is abruptly all sharp, spooky angles where there’d only just been a cute, sheepish grin.

He tilts his head back, just so, and you think you understand now why nobody tried to stop this monster from absconding with you: looking like this, he seems like the type of guy who really would’ve dragged you into this alley to murder you.

“Snrk…holy shit. That’s… that’s really good, dude!”

The skeleton flips right back the second you laugh, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“papyrus,” he says, introducing himself at last, and you happily introduce yourself in return.

When he asks if you’ve got a ride home and you admit that you don’t know your new address too well—you wrote it down, on your phone, but of course it’s dead, your forethought is in peak form tonight—he offers to let you spend the night at his place.

It’s probably another bad idea and maybe you’re still reeling a bit from all the monster-drinks and secondhand who-knows-what, but he feels like a nice guy.

Trustworthy.

You let Papyrus take you home with him.

-

It turns out you put your faith in the right skeleton.

Even though he only had his own bed to offer you and you insisted he not go sleep on the floor, you woke up safe, sober, and fully-clothed (albeit very thoroughly cuddled).

You stayed the morning to make breakfast, as a ‘thank you.’ You met Papyrus’ very scary brother who stared at you across the table until Papyrus wandered in and eased some of the tension.

It was still a little awkward—turns out, Papyrus’ default state was ‘quiet’ and he spent most of the time wolfing down his syrup-drowned pancakes while Sans held eye-contact with you and downed a whole bottle of Sriracha (a power move?), but somehow, by the end of it…

You still decided to give Papyrus your number, in case he ever wanted to hang out or…do whatever. You were new to the city and anyone you could call a friend was a good person to know!

All things considered, it wasn’t long before Papyrus went from ‘friend’ to ‘boyfriend.’ He was a sweet guy with a real gift for snuggling and an untapped well of affection that he was happy to shower you in with only the slightest provocation.

Just a few short months after your first near-disastrous night in Ebott things are going great for you—you’ve got a decent job, actual furniture in your apartment, a cuddlebug boyfriend, and even a passing civil relationship with said boyfriend’s brother.

There’s not a single thing you would change about your life right now!

…Except…

Well.

You have a soulmark.

Which is either really, really good, or really, really bad.

You found it when you got home from that first breakfast, after your…unpleasant…night at the bar.

You’d been out of it and so many strange and dubiously-intentioned monsters had brushed up against you, skin to scales and slime and any number of textures.

Really, any one of the people there that night could’ve sparked your soulmark to manifest.

In your heart—and maybe even all the way down to your soul—you know which strange and dubiously-intentioned monster you want to have left the twisting strings of ivy wrapped around your belly, climbing up your torso and always seeming to have moved from the last time you looked.

And…Papyrus has a soulmark, too, you’ve seen it, so he’s…

It’s probably yours.

But you’re just not sure.

It doesn’t really matter if it isn’t, of course: you’d rather be dating Papyrus than any of the shady creeps who’d plied you with drinks that night, and even if he’d gotten his own mark long before he met you, he seemed perfectly content with your relationship; more than!

It doesn’t matter… but there’s still a part of you that wants to know.

-

Papyrus is sprawled out on the couch, and you’re lying on top of him.

It’s not the most comfortable position for you, with him being a literal skeleton and all, but he told you once that he likes to feel you on him, so you’re hanging in there awhile longer.

And thinking about the soulmark thing again.

Papyrus seems to notice your preoccupation and cranes his neck down a little to nuzzle your hair.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” he murmurs.

You don’t see any reason to lie.

“The night we met,” you say. “…you were pretty smooth back then. Y’know, the first…five minutes or so, at least.”

You bounce a little as he laughs.

“daiquiris, angel,” Papyrus winks up at you. “coupla those an’ i’m a regular casanova.”

You snicker…but, “Knight in shining armor, more like.”

His skull turns a very cute shade of lilac.

“…aaahhh, stop,” he grumbles. “it wasn’t…that big a deal……”

“It was to me!” you insist, pushing yourself up on his ribs. “You saved my ass and you know it, Rus.”

“mmmnn…s’a cute ass…”

Papyrus was hot garbage when it came to just accepting a compliment.

You fully intend to work on that, but you decide to have mercy on him and let it go for now.

Instead, you go for a different sort of gamble.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause we’re soulmates,” you accuse.

You keep your eyes on Papyrus’ face, not sure what kind of reaction you’re looking hoping for.

The way he just…smiles at you, eye-sockets crinkling at the corners, feels a little like running into a step on the stairs that you didn’t know was there.

“nah,” he says, “it’d be cute no matter what.”

You sag a little in sheer surprise— was it really that easy?—and Papyrus tilts his head, trying to piece together what’s going on in your head.

For as awkward as he is around people, he’s not half-bad at jumping to conclusions.

“……did you…not know?”

“No,” you hasten to assure him, “no, I…knew. Or, I mean, I kinda figured… I hoped, mostly, but…” You laugh a little, more at yourself than anything. “It was kind of a…weird…night, and we never exactly talked about it…”

Slowly, but surely…

Papyrus starts to snicker.

And then to outright laugh.

“nyeheheheheheh, holy shit,” he wheezes, “i thought i was bad… yuh…you weren’t sure and you took this long to ask about it??? pfft, stars above,you’re the best…”

If it wasn’t for the total, unflinching sincerity in that last bit, you think you might be a little offended.

As it is, you don’t really protest very hard when Papyrus deftly turns you over on top of him, so your back is to his chest, or when he starts to wriggle a bit and you can’t really see what he’s doing.

Apparently, he was shrugging off his jacket.

When he wraps his arms around you again, they’re bare and you can see the artful line of feathers along them, trailing all the way down from his scapulae.

“why d’you think i call you ‘angel’ so much?” he chuckles, setting his jaw atop your head. “m’wearin’ your wings…”

He says it so simply, so matter-of-fact…

And honestly, it’s everything you needed to hear.

You’re so glad Papyrus found you.

UT!Sans | UT!Papyrus | US!Sans | US!Papyrus | UF!Sans | UF!Papyrus | SF!Sans | HT!Sans | HT!Papyrus

[osakaso5]

The Observant Celestial Pilgrim - Throne Of The Stellar

Chapter 11 - Sirena, The Star Of Green Waters

Chapter Index

Hope: Whooooa... This city is amazing! There are waterways everywhere.

Hope: Ah! Look under that big stone bridge! There are boats passing under it!

Hope: And over there, too..! Now that I look more closely, aren't there a lot of boats around here!?

Fang: There's gondolas all over the place! Sirena's royal capital has a wide network of waterways.

Fang: This city has been blessed with lots of water, after all. It's probably faster to get around in a gondola than walk the streets.

Hope: Huh...

Coda: Isn't it a pretty city? Even I was shocked by it the first time I came here.

Coda: Obviously there's the waterways strewn all across the city, but there's also the fun and exciting atmosphere. It feels kinda like a festival.

Erin: True. I just saw people in costumes walk down that street over there.

Erin: I can some kind of musical instruments from all over the place, too.

Orion: It's the sound of lutes. Good grief... This planet is always bustling with festivities.

Fang: Many Sirenans love art and music, after all.

Orion: ...They're too used to peace. Things have gotten this way because of their frivolous king.

Orion: What do they plan to do, in case of an emergency?

Fang: Now, now. I'm sure King Sardinia has some kind of plan for those situations.

Orion: Hmph.

Hope: ...Is Sirena's royal palace on the other side of this big stone bridge?

Fang: Yeah. Though it's still a long walk away.

Hope: I see... ...............!!!!

Curse: ...

Hope: Curse..! I just saw him on the other side...

Coda: Hope?

Hope: Am I mistaken? But, I could've sworn...  

Coda: Hey, what's wrong... Wait, Hope!?

Coda: Where are you running!?

Hope: I saw Curse!!

Coda: Whaaat!?

- - - -

Hope: Huff, huff... Curse..!

Hope: Curse... Where are you!?

Hope: I can't find him anywhere? Maybe it wasn't really him. I saw him all the way across that bridge, so he was pretty far...

Hope: ...No. I may only have seen him for a moment, but there's nobody else that could look so much like Curse.

Hope: That was definitely him!

Hope: Curse..!

Curse: .......

Hope: I knew it..! That's Curse!!

Hope: Wait, Curse!!

Hope: Ah, he turned past that corner... Curse, it's me! Wait..!

Hope: Huff, huff.. I thought he turned here...

Hope: Where are you, Curse..?

Hope: Didn't you notice me? Couldn't you hear my voice?

Hope: Why, Curse? Please, don't go..! I finally found you..!

Hope: Curse..!!!

Thud

Hope: Ah!

Man: ...Oh.

Hope: I-I'm very sorry! Please let me through...

Man: Boy. Where are you in such a hurry to?

Man: The only thing past me is the royal palace.

Man: It's no place for an outsider like you.

Hope: I'm chasing after someone! He went towards the palace...

Man: The palace? ...Hmm.

Man: A visitor from far away, unlike any I've ever seen on this planet of mine. And another, heading for the royal palace...

Man: What do you think, Shinkai?

Shinkai: Whoever knows.

Shinkai: This appears to be my first time meeting him.

Man: I thought as much. But do you not feel anything from him?

Shinkai: Hmm....

Shinkai: Well...

Hope: W-what? You're kind of staring...

Shinkai: ...The color red. White, as well.

Hope: Huh?

Shinkai: The great red is important to him. The white, even more so.

Man: Oh my...

Hope: Um, I really am in a hurry, so...

Coda: Hope!!!

Hope: Coda! And the others, too..!

Orion: You're..!

Man: My, what a surprise. If it isn't King Orion, of the Star of Steel.

Man: The divination was accurate as always. My cards were quite unpleasant this morning.

Man: Clearly, they were warning me of an uninvited guest.

Orion: ...Hmph. I see you're beating around the bush, as usual.

Orion: ...King Sardinia.

Hope: King Sardinia!?

Coda: So, that guy over there is Sirena's king..?

Sardinia: Indeed. I am Sardinia, the king of Sirena.

Sardinia: In any case, what brings the king of Lama to my planet?

Sardinia: I don't recall ever welcoming you on Sirena.

Orion: Hmph.

Sardinia: Don't tell me you brought him here, Fang.

Fang: Ha, hahaha... We've had some unavoidable circumstances.

Sardinia: Circumstances, eh.

Coda: Fang's friends with Sirena's king, too..?

Coda: I don't know why I'm even surprised at this point...

Orion: I have no intention of improving relations with a country run by a jester like yourself.

Sardinia: That's nice to hear. The brain of a little tin soldier like  you probably couldn't understand my aesthetics, anyway.

Orion: Tin soldier..? Bastard..! Do you intend to mock Lama!?

Sardinia: I'm not the one who started this.

Sardinia and Orion: .........

Fang: Now, now. Calm down, both of you.

Sardinia and Orion: How can I possibly calm down!?

Sardinia: As much as you've helped me in the past, this is still a major faux pas, Fang.

Orion: If you hadn't stolen our Star Sphere fragment, I would've rather died than set foot on this planet!

Sardinia: ...Your Star Sphere fragment?

Orion: You took it from us!!!

Sardinia: .........

Orion: Hmph. Caught so red-handed that you cannot even speak!

Coda: This is a pretty dire situation...

Erin: His Highness and Mr. Sardinia sure seem like good friends.

Lazu: I believe the opposite is in fact true.

Coda: You finally got some kind of response out of Lazu..!

Erin: Hmm, but...

Erin: That guy keeps slandering my king. What an interesting fellow.

Coda: Erin, you know your eyes aren't smiling at all right now, don't you..?

Erin: Sure they are.

Sardinia: ...I suppose I have no choice. I'll grant you special permission to stay on Sirena, just this once.

Sardinia: I doubt you'll leave even if I tell you to.

Orion: Obviously not.

Hope: U-um...

Sardinia: Hmm?

Hope: Since you're the king, that must mean you can go inside the palace! I'm looking for someone..!

Sardinia: Ah... I believe you mentioned that just earlier.

Sardinia: I'll have my servants search the castle for that person.

Hope: Really..!?

Sardinia: Now is not the time to be ignoring strangers who are trying to invade my palace.

Hope: Curse would never do something so shady...

Fang: Let it go, Hope. We can ask for Curse's side of things once we find him. Let King Sardinia give us a hand.

Hope: ...Okay...

Sardinia: Now, follow me. You're clearly not here for the kind of pleasant chat we could have outside.

Sardinia: Let's go inside my palace.

Hope: Yes!

Coda: Hope. I'll stay behind and look around for Curse on the streets.

Hope: Coda... Are you sure?

Coda: The Star Sphere fragment's important, but isn't Curse just as dear to you?

Coda: He might be walking around here somewhere.

Hope: Thank you!

Erin: I'll stay and help Coda out, too.

Lazu: I will go to the palace...

Erin: It seems like Lazu wants to stay behind, too.

Lazu: ........

Hope: Coda, Erin, Lazu! Thank all of you!

Orion: Now, King Sardinia. You've no place to run or hide. It's time for us to have a long talk.

Sardinia: Goodness gracious...

Shinkai: Tonight's ball is turning into a brawl... 

To be continued...

[theartofmedia]

Game Theory and the Art of Persuasion

Full disclosure from the start: I don’t like Game Theory. (I enjoy MatPat when he’s in other things (like the Random Encounters musicals, I think he’s wonderful there), but just not Game Theory.) I’ve heard a lot of other people not like Game Theory either, both personal friends and strangers on the internet, for a variety of different reasons--namely, inaccurate research, twisting of facts, and allegations of art-stealing (but we’re not going to talk about that last one for the sake of staying on topic).

Yet, it remains incredibly successful, and its fans are loyal. Many people believe the theories, or at least parts of them. Even when the top comments of the videos are critical (or even hateful) in nature, the videos still do well.

So, why?

Well, there’s no denying that a good portion of GT’s audience is young. I think we’ve all had that one creator or piece of media that we wanted to defend because we loved it, only to realize later that it wasn’t that good. (And many people still enjoy these things and recognize that they aren’t good.) Younger teens have a strong need to defend what’s important to them, regardless of however valid the criticism is--in fact, giving any negative criticism at all often just spurs them on further. Young teens just don’t have that reasoning ability (and let’s face it, we were all like this when we were that young, whether we like to admit it or not). GT is going to be successful as long as that loyal fanbase continues to thrive.

So why do people believe the theories?

I believe I have my own little “theory”--MatPat, to some, is very persuasive.

Not with well-structured arguments, but with his rhetoric. It’s in what language he uses, the visuals he puts up, his tone of voice, and how he subtly tweaks the facts in order to slant the information in favor of his argument.

(Note: I am aware that MatPat not only has editors but script-writers as well, but he has to approve all of it and read out the script. So while I’ll use GT and MatPat himself as sort of umbrella term, I do know that he is not responsible for everything.)

Let’s use the video “Game Theory: Kirby...Dream Land’s Biggest THREAT! pt.1″ and break down some of the major points. (I’ll be putting timestamps so you can check for yourself or follow along.)

Whether intentional or not, MatPat uses a lot of strong, slanted language in his arguments. At 2:14, he states “So what is Kirby? Is he hero of Popstar, or world-consuming villain? A pink puffball for good, or a fiery god of evil?” This sets up a dichotomy--good and evil, right and wrong. People are naturally drawn to definitive, clean choices. They’re easier to understand and easier to grasp. Setting up this dichotomy sets up two sides: Kirby is good, or Kirby is evil. No room for other nuances and small details that add depth, or room for any explanations of the circumstances that could lead Kirby to act the way he does.

2:22--”Surprisingly, Kirby lore does have an answer.”

2:25-2:29--”The Kirby games have slowly been revealing more and more of what the true nature of Kirby is.”

3:09--”... what the designers are intending to do with his character.”

These three statements encapsulate a common criticism of GT: MatPat exerts his theories as truth. “Have an answer,” “true nature,” and “intending to do” are all statements that present his argument as factual, as truth. He even pushes that onto the Kirby writers, saying that it’s what they were ‘intending to do’ with Kirby’s character. Now one could make the argument of him just making blanket statements and that these aren’t all calculated instances, and you’re probably right--however, regardless if intentional or not, it still plants a sort of subliminal idea in the viewer’s head that ‘what I’m going to tell you is accurate and true.’

(Also, at 3:09, he shows a visual of “kirby lore” books connected by a pentagram. Very subtle use of imagery to send a message, which once more ties back to the binary he set up earlier. It’s pretty clear what he wants you to believe.)

2:30--”And the answers they’re starting to give are shocking.”

3:16--”... after this two-part theory, I don’t think you’ll be able to look at Kirby the same way again.”

This, along with the Satanic visuals presented previously, are priming the viewer to think that Kirby is evil. It’s setting up for that assertion, easing the viewer into it so that it’s easier for them to think “oh yeah that makes sense.”

And that’s just at the beginning of the video!

Now probably the biggest criticism of GT is that he spins the facts and intentionally leaves out information, inadvertently giving inaccurate information in order to support his argument. Well--he’s basically flat-out admitted to doing so in his emails to potential script writers (as shown by this video from Inside A Mind (timestamped for convenience), where MatPat actually commented on it and talked about the incident that IAM was referring to and never outright stating that the contents of those guidelines for script writing were false.)

I feel like we don’t talk about this enough: the Game Theory script writers are actually told to omit information that contradicts the theory. Now this makes sense on the surface--omitting information that would weaken your argument--but thinking about it even a bit makes it confusing and even a bit shady. GT frames its theories as though they were scientific theories, and intentionally leaving out information that contradicts what you’re trying to say isn’t how you make a scientific theory, especially if it heavily disproves what you are trying to prove. You would acknowledge that there is contradictory information and either try to provide a counterargument, or just admit ‘yeah this exists and we don’t have an explanation for it.’ It’s okay to have holes in your argument, no argument is perfect! However, GT flat-out ignores this contradictory information, and in doing so, it actually twists the facts. (Honestly, in my opinion, him acknowledging the contradictory information would make his theories more credible.)

For example, in the Kirby video, he discusses Milky Way Wishes in Kirby Super Star/Super Star Ultra, and how the main objective is to stop the sun and moon from fighting by summoning Nova, who can grant wishes, with the help of a jester named Marx. Marx, however, betrays Kirby to get his own wish granted because he wants to take over Popstar. Kirby has to destroy Nova in order to save Popstar and possibly the rest of the universe.

Now the way MatPat explains it...

(starting at) 6:19--“When the sun and moon are fighting up in the sky, one civilian speaks up with a solution: Marx. His proposed answer to this literal star war is to summon Nova, a giant space watch that grants wishes. [something something dragonball joke] Kirby travels planet to planet to harness each one’s star power, making him quite literally an alien invading army to the locals of that area. After decimating seven planets’ worth of creatures [something something metroid joke], Kirby successfully summons Nova. But before he can make his wish and justify all the damage he just caused across the galaxy, he is betrayed by Marx, who wishes to take over Popstar. [...] Kirby goes on to defeat Marx, but also has to destroy Nova in the process, leaving the universe one step back from where this quest first started, and ultimately invalidating all the bloodshed from all the planets he just visited.”

... he frames it as though nothing was accomplished, planets were destroyed, and everything was ultimately for naught.

Conveniently leaving out that the sun and moon stopped fighting--you know, what caused all of this in the first place--in order to work together and help Kirby stop Nova. And again, his wording frames Kirby as this monster, while also conveniently forgetting about player choice. One can choose to not hurt the enemies--and the enemies are enemies for a reason, because they hurt Kirby.

So in the end, while Marx was stopped and Nova was unfortunately destroyed, the problem that Kirby set out to solve was, in fact, solved, and peace was restored. Putting back these facts completely changes the meaning of what MatPat is trying to say, and omitting them makes them inaccurate information. He does this frequently in order to support his arguments--and the very fact that he has to twist the narrative in order to make it fit how he wants to at all implies that said arguments don’t have much to stand on to begin with.

However, if you didn’t play the game or didn’t just do a quick google search like I did it sounds plausible, because there aren’t many missing pieces there (unless you think about ‘what happened to the sun and moon?’). It seems that GT is trying to reach the people who don’t know about these games, as they would be the ones who would most readily believe it. Kirby fans would be skeptical or outright against what the theory says, but if you didn’t know about what the games actually were, then it would make perfect sense.

(I’d also like to mention how he says that Kirby’s Avalanche isn’t canon and then uses it for a full minute to support his argument it’s not entirely relevant to this but it just Grinds My Gears)

15:51--”And again, if you think all of this is a stretch, and I’m reading too much into these details, I’m not.” 

And at the very end, he once again asserts the idea that the information he just presented you with is true. It’s repetition; many times if you repeat something enough, people will start to believe it. It’s similar to repeating the thesis statement at the end of an essay so that it all ties together nicely.

To the average viewer, the Game Theory videos may sound very persuasive, especially with MatPat’s charismatic voice and assured tone, the editors very snappy and visually interesting editing, and the enticing words and phrases he uses in order to grab attention and prime the viewer for what he’s about to say. However, knowing even a little bit about the source material of what he’s talking about can make the theory videos fall apart, because in all honesty, the videos don’t have much actual substance. It’s like a house of cards; one light breeze and the whole thing topples.

Despite all of this, I still have hope that, someday, Game Theory’s content will improve, and these types of criticisms will be addressed. Until then, we can only wait.

[wutbju]

The Times They Showed Their Quality: My own experience with Liberty University’s treatment of faculty BRIAN MELTON·MONDAY, JUNE 24, 2019 Clarification: This note was written in direct response to comments from Liberty’s provost in a recent Christianity Today article claiming that the relationship between the LU administration and its faculty staff is “healthy”, and that the faculty is “completely comfortable with what [the administration] is doing,” and it should be read in that context. I offer this as a simple statement of my experience to serve as a corrective in honor of the many people whom I know wish they could speak out but can’t. Thanks in advance for taking this as nothing more or less than it claims to be. --Brian Anyone who is paying attention to criticisms of Liberty University these days is well familiar with the charge of “Fake News.” It is a common and mindless refrain, parroted back in obedience to The Donald’s talking points and it somehow resonates with otherwise intelligent people. It is also an easy charge to levy, as most of the time when people not connected to LU hear about nefarious happenings and underhanded actions, it is as “something that happened to this guy I heard about” or the like thanks to LU’s use of non-disclosure agreements. I never signed an NDA. So, I thought I might skip the rumor mill and share my own direct, first-hand experience with the administration’s behavior. What I can attest to is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg and not as bad as what has happened to others, but it marked the transition when, after fifteen years, I finally came to the definite conclusion that the upper administration at LU wasn’t simply self-serving or even inept, but fundamentally duplicitous. Worse, it demonstrated to me that they acted this way intentionally and with malice aforethought.

In 2014 my family and I moved back to the Lynchburg area, where I occupied a position as an Instructional Mentor, acting as a bridge between the College of General Studies and the College of Arts and Sciences. Previously, I had worked for LU full time residentially for over ten years. I served as a professor, chair of the curriculum committee, and moderator of the faculty senate during that time. I liked and respected (I still do) the people in those schools I worked with directly, and at the time we intended to spend the rest of our lives there. I figured whatever else happened, we would muddle through it and I would retire from LU when the time came. My point is that though I of course had my frustrations with the administration on some issues, but there was no ill will and I hoped to keep working for them for years to come.

One peculiarity of my position at the time was that it was “part-time full time.” Technically, I was a part time worker and I received none of the benefits that other faculty did, while at the same time I was counted as a “full time” faculty with a terminal degree for SACS purposes via a “limited benefit” contract (the sole “benefit” was that after filling out paperwork I could receive up to $400 a year to join professional associations).  I knew there would be none of the standard health or life insurance, tuition assistance, etc. going into the position and was fine with it, as we were allowed to take extra classes and make a comfortable sum that allowed me to pay for all the extras out of pocket. I recall speaking with my associate dean as late as 2015 and telling him that I would be happy doing this job until I retired.

Of course, the lack of medical coverage in particular was a complaint that many had, but I did not see it as a significant obstacle. Yes, it was on the unfair side to be a second-class faculty member who did not get the coverage others did, even though I did as much work, and getting on the school insurance would be a significant boon to our family. Still, I worked from home, was paid well, and just accepted it as a known downside of the specific job I had agreed to do. There had been constant rumors that the administration appreciated us and was taking steps to give us coverage, but nothing ever came of it. Until the Fall of 2016, that is.

That fall I received an email on a Friday afternoon (when few people would be expected to look at it, of course) informing me that I had worked enough to qualify for medical coverage under the university. I had one week to respond. If I didn’t I would immediately and permanently forfeit any claim to coverage now or in the future. As you can imagine, I didn’t wait! I responded immediately that I was grateful for the opportunity and to put me down for it. I also contacted both of my bosses, who were happy to hear that I had received coverage. Both promised to do everything they could do to make sure I kept it by giving me the required amount of work.The next week I called Human Resources to find out more. I spoke with the benefits coordinator, and told him how much I appreciated the gesture. He replied that he was glad to hear it and that LU was always happy to help its people. As he explained the details of the coverage, he was careful to sneak in a comment that if I ever happened to fall below the required line, I would lose my coverage. “Well,” I thought, “that’s fair.” And so I asked what I thought would be the obvious question: “Where is the line? How much do I have to work in order to rate coverage?” His reply was shady, and you could tell by the uncomfortable tone of his voice that he knew it too. “That’s proprietary information,” he said, “I can’t release it.”  “You can’t tell me at all?” I asked. “No” was the answer. My bosses, good people that they are, also both followed up with HR and they were both given the same answer.

From that moment, I knew that this was, in reality, nothing but an intentional set up. The reason they would tell no one where the line lay was because it was mobile--no one would ever cross it again. No matter how much we worked, it would always be “unfortunately” short of the goal. In fact, Liberty had obfuscated on Obamacare as long as they could, and now they were being forced to offer coverage to all full time workers. Rather than be frank about it, they were playing the situation off like this was a friendly and helpful boon to their employees, all the while laying plans to revoke the coverage at the first opportunity and blame it on said employees. It was as dishonest as it was obvious.

Sure enough, within a month, we began to get notifications of sudden “policy changes” that cut the financial rug out from under whole classes of faithful employees. My own turn at this came in December. In a move worthy of the counting house of Ebenezer Scrooge, four days before Christmas, I received an email informing me that I was to be locked out of any and all overload teaching effective January 1. For me, that amounted to an immediate pay cut of approximately a third of my yearly LU income. I was given approximately two weeks--including Christmas Eve and Day--to make adjustments. Never was an apology expressed, regrets offered, or even an acknowledgment made by anyone beyond my immediate superiors (who had no say in the matter) for the obvious effect this had on people’s lives or for the manner in which it was rolled out.  Over the next quarter, chaos ensued as the administration waffled back and forth about what to do next and my hapless bosses could only report what the whim of the day happened to be. One day I was looking at a 50% pay cut. A week later, the rumor was that my position was being eliminated. A week after that, it was 20%. Then 30%. etc. etc. etc.The following Fall, things finally settled out--as much as they do at Liberty, where things are constantly in flux as the latest disposable “rock star” tries to leave his mark. I ended up losing about 25% of my previous income potential and we were limited to a theoretical 30 hours per week of work. I emphasize “theoretical” because in fact no effort was made to track anything outside of teaching hours, which represented the hours for which we were actually paid. At the same time, Liberty’s “Co-Provost” announced sweeping changes to our positions requiring substantially more administrative work. Since administrative hours were never counted or totaled nor paid individually, in fact our workload as a whole went up substantially while our overall pay potential dropped significantly. Perhaps worse, we were now charged with tracing faculty compliance via a tool called the “FAR” which tracked and logged every single time a faculty member was late doing anything. While that information had been available to chairs and deans for years, now it was forced down to even the adjunct level and I, as an Instructional Mentor, was required to contact the faculty under me and ask for an explanation any and every time I saw a “red flag.” Miss posting your Monday announcement by five minutes this week? I have to demand a justification that I would log with the university on your record. Are you a little late in grading the papers the university suddenly required you to return to the students two days earlier than before? I’ll be checking up on you for an excuse why you shouldn’t be fired. And with the “Co-Provost” (What the heck is that, anyway? The real provost pretending to not be? The actual provost’s personal assistant?) constantly haranguing us with threats that there were “hundreds of people lined up for your job”, threats so thinly veiled that they insulted your intelligence as much as they frightened you, there was plenty of angst to go around.And so I found myself in an interesting position: I was working full time hours at a part time job that had at least full time expectations, being told that I could get in trouble if I didn’t accomplish my full time work in my part time hours. I operated on a one year contract with no job security under implied threats of “non-renewal” delivered via smarmy video messages that tracked how much of each you watched. I was part of an increasingly Orwellian surveillance system that meant I was party to inflicting all of this onto others. (Let us not forget academic standards that had fallen dramatically over recent years and about which I could perhaps write another whole article.) And I was supposed to be happy about it--sacrificing my time and my family for the university, but not being able to expect a scrap of loyalty or genuine appreciation out of anyone above the deans’ level in return. The only safe words that could be used to express serious dissent were, “Thank you sir! May I have another?” All of this was happening in the name of Christ, and every complaint was expected to be excused for the sake of the mission, a mission that it was increasingly clear the school’s own president regarded as secondary to making money and winning football games (since confirmed directly in a recent tweet). It should come as no surprise, then, that in the summer of 2017, when I was approached about an opportunity to teach in Europe, I decided to leave. And the medical coverage? In September of 2017 I received the equivalent of a medical “Dear John” letter, regretfully informing me that since I simply hadn’t worked hard enough in the past year, the university had no choice but to end my medical coverage. At the time, my wife and I were actively being treated with expensive anti-biotics for Lyme Disease and a malarial-type infection she had picked up on a mission trip. My new chair in LUO (my previous one had quit in disgust) went on the line for me to try to reverse the decision, but was told to sit down and be quiet--the administration didn’t care and he was risking his own position by speaking up.  In the final tally, I most likely could have made ends meet on the new salary they were offering, but money wasn’t the central problem. Neither was the still-absent medical coverage; we had lived without it before and could again. The most important issue for me was character. I had to be able to rely on Liberty University to treat me and others fairly and honestly if I were to bank my family’s welfare on working for them. My own personal narrative aside, I knew of many other people treated worse than I was--a whole list of persons I liked and respected. If the last few years had taught me anything, it was that while there are still many excellent people to be found there, Liberty University as a whole was as shifty, dishonorable, unprincipled, and hypocritical a work environment as could be offered. I could not trust my family to them, and I increasingly found it hard to have my reputation associated with an organization that had proved itself so often without honor. (Yes, I’m old fashioned that way.)  It was a hard decision. We love our friends in the Lynchburg area very much and we love the Virginia mountains. We love our church, and, as I said, we planned to grow old and die there. We miss them all badly, even as we travel and experience Europe. Unfortunately, Liberty’s behavior and lack of honor made it virtually impossible to stay--for us at least.

Moving into 2018, I learned that more cuts were likely. (Despite what Provost Hicks asserts, it is a relatively recent thing for faculty to be completely surprised by their non-renewal. At one point there was a written agreement that faculty would be notified by January if it were a possibility, and even later people were unofficially informed.) I approached my bosses and let them know I would be leaving at the end of the year in the hopes that if they knew it, someone else’s job might be secure (I was told that it did save a position). In true LU style, I later received official notification in a boiler plate email that they had regretfully decided not to renew the contract I had already informed them I wasn’t seeking. I arrived at LU in the Fall of 2003 to find an earnest, if humanly fallible university making its very best effort to transform itself into the Notre Dame of Evangelicalism. I left a financially successful behemoth where real ministry and Christian charity is carried out by earnest believers in spite of the effort and example of its upper administration to the contrary. Increasingly, LU is becoming more the Harvard of Evangelicalism than the Notre Dame (academic standards definitely not withstanding). It is a university where the original mission has been sacrificed in favor of a political agenda and a secular system of situational morality, Liberty falling to the right wing in counterpoint to Harvard’s left. Though the campus may be bigger and more beautiful than ever before, sadly, thanks to the trajectory of its current administration, its reflection of Christ is not. 

[blueaslapis]

This was going to be for that “Don’t Chase the Rabbit” meme, but since it’s not from his perspective, y’all can have this one for free:

The blonde paused outside of her apartment door, key just barely touching the lock. From inside, she could hear Fleetwood Mac playing over the stereo. She knew she hadn’t left any music on when she’d left that morning; briefly, she considered going to get the super. But why would someone break in and then give themselves away by turning on the stereo, she wondered. Suddenly, relief and embarrassment washed over her simultaneously. Of course, she had given Carson her spare key the week before. She was glad to think that he was interested, that he would want to stay at her place, but he had definitely given her a fright just then. Trying unsuccessfully to fight back a fond smile, she shook her head. He sure was in for it, she thought. She tossed her golden hair back over her shoulder, adjusted the straps of her sun-dress, and opened the door, prepared to give him what-for.

“You’ve got some nerve!” She declared cheekily as she closed the door behind her. At least she intended to. Instead, the words died on her tongue and fell out of her mouth in a jumbled mess:

“You’ve g- ah-um….oh..? ….”  Instead of her recent lover, she found his partner seated casually on her sofa, one arm draped over what looked like some kind of air tank. Since they had been introduced, she had tried to avoid him. He never said much, but the way he looked at her made her feel empty, violated, as though he could see right into her. Without realizing it, she took a small step back toward the door. “Is Carson here?” She asked, the enthusiasm thoroughly drained from her voice.

“No.” He answered, tone as distant and unbothered as she had ever heard it. Without waiting for her to respond, he gestured for her to join him on the sofa. Unsure of what else to do, she forced her legs to move her forward. There was no telling what he might do if she offended him. Tugging the hem of her dress taut over her knees, she perched on the edge of the cushion, attempting to leave as much space as possible between them without seeming conspicuous. It was no use, however, as he simply moved closer to fill the space between them.

“Will he be joining us?” She asked, trying to act as though there were nothing at all unusual or upsetting about this situation.

“I don’t think so.”

Her hands clasped one another tightly and she bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall past her shoulder and veil her face. What was she supposed to say to that?

“I guess I’m a little bit confused, then.” She admitted. “Can I help you with something?”

“You and I haven’t talked much.” He replied. She noticed that it was not an answer to her question, but didn’t dare point it out.

“Oh? I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” He told her. Even though she was doing her best to avoid his gaze, she could feel his startlingly blue eyes burning into her. “You’re seeing my partner, not me. Still, he is my partner.”

“Of course,” She agreed hurriedly. “You don’t want your friend dating some...so-and-so, right?”

“That’s a way to put it.” He nodded.

“So,” She lifted her head just enough to regard him carefully. “You just wanted to talk? D-does Carson know about this?” If he did, she felt he could have at least given her a warning. She bristled at the thought of him letting this stranger into her home without her permission.

“I don’t answer to him.”

Again, she withdrew. The lack of a clear answer sent a chill through her.

“Of course not,” She tried to assure him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…” She bit her lip, pushing her hair behind her ear and attempting to summon her nerve. “This isn’t a sex thing, is it? Because I never agreed to-“

She was cut off by his laugh. It was a short, forceful sound, as though he was not quite sure how to do it. She thought she would prefer his ice-cold stare over the sound of hearing him laugh any day of the week. Grinning, he shook his head.

“No. It’s nothing like that.” He looked at her expectantly and she faltered before forcing a polite laugh of her own.

“Oh…no, of course not. That’s silly, isn’t it.”

“There’s no reason for us to be coy,” He said. “You’re too nice for this.”

“For what…?” Again, she felt completely lost.

“Do you know what Carson does for a living? The kind of things he and I are involved in?”

“No, and I’d never ask.” She insisted. She had suspected there was something shady going on in her lover’s line of work, but she wasn’t stupid enough to pry. “That’s your business, not mine.”

“You’re involved with him, I’m afraid it is your business.” He told her. When she didn’t respond, he edged closer to her, draping his left arm over the back of the couch, behind her head. Although she refused to look at him, the strong scent of his cologne stung the back of her throat and she could detect menthol on his breath. “I’m afraid he’s put you in a terrible position by getting you involved.”

“I don’t-“ She shook her head helplessly. “I’m not sure what it is you want me to do.”

“I don’t want you to do anything. I just thought you should know.”

She finally looked at him. He was watching her face intently and for an instant their eyes met. His focus reminded her of a snake preparing to strike. Predatory. She struggled against the intensity of his gaze and finally had to look away, searching for anything else to look at. She spotted the air tank that he’d had tucked beneath his arm and she nodded toward it.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That tank.”

“It’s oxygen.”

The record that had been playing faded into faint scratches before stopping altogether, leaving them in silence.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She said, “Are you ill?”

“No, I’m not ill.”

“Oh…What’s it for?”

“Are you afraid of me, Nancy?” The question caught her off guard, as did hearing him speak her name in his emotionless voice. It made her feel unclean. She didn’t know how to respond. Would he believe her if she said no? His right hand reached out and swept a strand of hair back from her forehead. The heel of his palm rested against her hairline, as though he were checking her temperature. “Don’t be afraid.” He said. Something was wrong.

“Wait-“ She struggled to voice the objection, but was silenced by the bolt of the cattle gun that was concealed by his sleeve. For an instant, her body jerked reflexively and then she was still. He caught her body as it fell forward and laid her gently back on the sofa. He smoothed her skirt down with the back of his hand and then stood.Her head lolled to the side, spilling dark blood onto the cushion beneath her, matting her beautiful blonde hair.

[newsboys-of-1899]

The Prosecution of Don Carlos Seitz, Part 2

Reposted with permission from Erster Stories.

We’re back to grill Don Seitz on more shady dealings! Last time we pinned him to one year in jail (assuming we can’t find a contract that would make his course of action, while still forceful and shady, absolutely valid). If you haven’t read that one, you can do so here. So one year in jail, not bad, right? But we are so far from done. Next, I think I can nail him with a fraud charge for things he discusses in the same memo. The World makes a lot of claims, both in Seitz’s notes to Pulitzer and in its public articles, that the strike is over before every other newspaper says it’s over. That could be a whole other post about why Seitz chose to repeatedly lie about that if he didn’t think it was over, or why he made the concessions he made to the strikers if he did think it was over. Assuming he was lying, though (which I do mostly because I despise him), we can absolutely catch him on something bad: where he mentions telling the advertisers that the strike was over and that they could return to advertising in the Evening World.

Media has always made money off of advertising. The advertisers pay money to put their ads out there so that the media they sold the ad to can distribute it and get the advertisers more exposure. However, if the paper was still being boycotted, it’s safe to say that the World probably wasn’t holding up their end of that deal to their full extent, even if they did have people who were still selling. This means that at least to some extent, the advertising money would go right into the World’s pocket and the advertisers would get nothing from it. So, if Seitz was lying about the strike being over, he would also be lying to his advertisers and making money off of it.

Originally, I thought this might be an exploitation charge, because it fits in definition, “to take unfair advantage of a person,” additionally since the examples cited on US Legal involve deception for monetary gain. But that’s not it, because exploitation doesn’t appear in the New York Penal Code. After much despair that I wouldn’t be able to catch him on anything for this that’s prosecutable in New York, my friend Baden suggested I look into the definition of fraud. Fraud’s a pretty wide category, so the penal code gets more specific than the general definition. I think I have him on something known as a scheme to defraud in the penal code, also known as the intent to defraud. The definition of a scheme to defraud reads essentially as follows:

“1. A person is guilty of a scheme to defraud… when he engages in a scheme constituting a systematic ongoing course of conduct with intent to defraud more than one person or to obtain property from more than one person by false or fraudulent pretenses, representations or promises, and so obtains property from one or more of such persons.

2. In any prosecution under this section, it shall be necessary to prove the identity of at least one person from whom the defendant so obtained property, but it shall not be necessary to prove the identity of any other intended victim.”

Systematically ongoing… check. Fraudulent pretenses… check. Obtains property… well, money isn’t exactly property, is it? The US Legal definition of intent to defraud comes to the rescue here, defining it in less legalese as follows:

“Intent to defraud is the intention to deceive others. It involves a specific intention to cheat others, for causing financial loss to others or bringing financial gain to one’s self.”

So financial gain does count. And we can certainly pinpoint at least one victim since plenty of people were likely advertising in the Evening World.

So what is his sentence? As usual, the sentence depends on the degree of the crime. The difference between the first and second degree of a scheme to defraud mainly lies in the number of people that fell victim to the scheme or the amount of money they made. It’s first degree if it involves 10 or more people, or earned them in excess of $1,000 dollars. I can’t confirm which degree we’re talking about with only the information in the memo, but the second degree is a class A misdemeanor and first degree is a class E felony. That’s up to a year for the misdemeanor, and more than a year for the felony.

All right, now that we have the modern charge, it’s time to do some more digging. Was this illegal back in 1899? I checked back in the 1965 Penal Law book that so kindly outlined things that were new between this version and a copy from 1909, and found that the charge (indexed as 190.60) doesn’t even exist in the 1965 book. While Article 190 exists, it only goes up to 190.35. I suppose there must have been an addendum to the article later on to expand the kinds of fraud charges contained in it.

In conclusion, Don Seitz was a rat and I’m frustrated that I can’t get him in trouble for swindling his advertisers. But boy, he would get in so much trouble for that today.  

I hope you enjoyed coming on this adventure with me! I’ll certainly do more of these if I encounter any more shady activity by anyone at the World or the Journal. I’m really quite motivated to make something stick to them now because I’m convinced they did something illegal that they actually could’ve gotten in trouble for at the time. Do let me know if any of you discover anything else that might fit the bill!

[byuneebuns]

Attribution (Part 2)

Doyoung x Reader Hacker/Secret Agent AU

Rated: M for Violence and Eventual Smut

Tags: Violence, Smut (eventual), Hacker AU, Secret Agent AU, Political Intrigue

Author’s Note: I’m truly sorry for how long this has taken. I’ve had a lot going on and I honestly really struggled with what direction to take this in and I still have no idea what I’m even doing so hopefully it’s not awful!!!!!!! (it is sorry). Also 20 Yen is about 0.20 cents in USD just fyi 

Part 1

Part 3

“So, what you’re telling me is that you have no plan.”

Doyoung shrugged, choosing to ignore you for the endless strings of code scrolling down his monitor. You clenched your fists, trying to keep your temper under control. 

You’d been Doyoung’s captive for a week now, and it had been almost astonishing how uneventful it was. Zero progress was being made on anything, at least as far as you could tell. Granted, you weren’t privy to whatever the hell he did on his computer all hours of the day, but the most excitement you’d endured all week was when you woke up one morning to his face buried in your chest. You clenched your fist tighter at the recollection.

“How am I supposed to help you when you can’t even help yourself? You antagonized entire countries without so much as an idea for how to get out of this alive?” You tried to keep your voice calm but you could hear the exasperation seeping through.

“That isn’t very fair. I’m a genius hacker, not a genius strategist. My first and primary concern was trying to ascertain our country’s stance on the matter, but seeing as they didn’t deem you worth sharing it with before they all but dumped you in my lap, I’m kind of at a loss for the moment.”

You winced at Doyoung’s cold words. You had already started to become accustomed to his condescending attitude but it still stung to be looked down on, even if it wasn’t always entirely intentional on his part.

“Besides, aren’t you supposed to be skilled in problem-solving and getting out of messes like this? Where are your suggestions?” He continued, still not taking his eyes off of the screens flashing before him.

“You honestly want my opinion?”

He turned to face you at last, the backlighting from his monitor giving him an ethereal glow that made you uneasy for reasons you couldn’t quite place.

“Of course I do. You’re a secret agent. A highly trained specialist. You’re obviously very capable. If I wasn’t infinitely more intelligent than you I have every confidence that you would have murdered me at least twice already. I highly doubt you would have been assigned to my pursuit if you were incompetent.” He said matter-of-factly. You couldn’t help but swell a little at the praise, even amidst the biting sarcasm that you were used to from him.

“Well, as underwhelming as it may sound, I think our best chance of success starts with staying right where we are. You’ve insisted that it’s impossible for us to be located here, so it’s an optimal base of operations. We need to gather more information about what we’re up against and what they know before we risk making any moves. The only information I was privy to was that your freedom was a risk to national security and that because the threat extended to other nations that we would be cooperating with the units they sent here, but only to an extent, they would primarily operate independently and intelligence sharing would be limited.” You tapped your finger to your chin thoughtfully, trying to recall any other pertinent information.

Doyoung blinked at you slowly, his face neutral.

“So what you’re saying, in so many words, is that you have no helpful suggestions and intend to rely on my information gathering skills.” He said with a flat tone.

“Don’t disappoint me, genius hacker,” You said shrugging. You had no desire to open more doors for him to decimate your ego. To your mild surprise, he smiled, his bunny teeth gleaming in the artificial lighting.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

He swiveled back around, typing with a renewed fervor. You smiled at his back before turning on your heel to meander off and find some way to be useful while he worked.

“Wait.”

You looked over your shoulder at Doyoung, who was rigid in his seat and leaned close to his screen, so close his nose was almost touching.

“Come look at this. Now.”

You obeyed, your curiosity outweighing your disdain for being bossed around, and peered over his shoulder at the screen, stiffening when your eyes registered what he was trying to show to you.

“Where did you find this?”

“I’ve been data mining your agency and this came up. What does this mean to you?” He stared at you expectantly, his eyes piercing.

Your eyes drank in the familiar code that had become like your native tongue in your time undercover. A screen that was blank save for several lines of what would have appeared to be nonsense to most. This was a message. To you.

“It’s a riddle.” You plopped on to the floor, crossing your legs and massaging your temples as you stared holes into the carpet beneath you, mind racing.

“What does it say? Something about an eye?” Doyoung’s eyes narrowed. You were impressed that he knew that much of your code already, he was definitely not someone to underestimate.

“It says ‘I have a single eye, but cannot see. What am I?’.” You said, still distracted by the racing of your mind.

“That’s easy. It’s a needle. I don’t understand the context, so please enlighten me.” Doyoung said, growing impatient with your lack of explanation.

“Yes. A needle. It’s referring to Seoul Tower, actually. The numbers throughout are a date and time if you unscramble them, tomorrow night. It’s a meeting request.”

Doyoung stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“How do you know that?”

You scoffed.

“You mean aside from being a trained code breaker? What happened to thinking that I was a, how did you put it, ‘highly trained specialist’? This wasn’t exactly difficult. It helps that I know exactly who sent this though, it isn’t the first time he’s used this stupid riddle to tell me to meet him there. The more important question here is the one you haven’t gotten to yet: whether or not we should go.” You said bitterly, growing more uneasy by the second.

“Who sent this? One of your co-workers?”

You grimaced.

“Not quite. His name is Yuta Nakamoto. He’s a Japanese information broker that I’ve worked with on occasion. He’s a little shady and that probably isn’t even his real name but he’s never done me any harm.”

“Why the hell is a Japanese information broker trying to meet up with you? And why did he ask you to meet at Seoul Tower before?”

Your face colored at Doyoung’s questions.

“Well, I’m not too sure what the reason is this time, but we can probably assume that it has something to do with you. Information on you would probably be worth a lot right about now.”

Doyoung glared.

“And the second half of my question?”

“It’s how he asked me out on a date once. That’s so humiliating to say out loud, so please never make me do it again.” You moaned hiding your face in your hands.

“So, your ex-lover. The shady Japanese Information Broker. Wants to ask you on a second date. And this is how he chose to do it.” Doyoung said, his voice monotonous to further emphasize his disbelief.

“He’s not my ex, stop it.” You whined, swatting at Doyoung’s arm.

“Oh, sorry, I meant your CURRENT lover-”

Doyoung was cut off by you landing a well-placed kick at his ankle, causing him to yelp in pain in between his raucous laughter.

You knew you would probably never been lucky enough to catch the attention of a smart (albeit sassy beyond belief), capable, and gorgeous man like Doyoung but you still didn’t want him thinking you were a woman spoken for, just in case he had a taste for mediocrity.

“Well, I think you’ve been fairly well-behaved lately, you’ve toned down the attempted murder quite a bit, so you deserve a fun night out.” Doyoung grinned mischievously before spinning back around in his chair again and resuming his frantic typing, waving one hand to dismiss you before you could respond. You gritted your teeth. There was no point in arguing with him, but you had a bad feeling about this.

The sky was clear, not a single cloud to obscure the heavens. You fidgeted a little in your heels, shaking the silver clutch in your hand nervously. You smoothed down the hem of your short, maybe too short, black dress and glanced around. You were surrounded by couples, their faces blurry in the dim light of street lamps.

Doyoung had insisted that you dress to the nines, taking it upon himself to special order a short black cocktail dress with silver accents and matching accessories. You had begrudgingly loosely curled your hair and done your makeup, feeling like you had little choice but to when you were being forced to dress up anyways, and you had to admit to yourself that you looked good. Doyoung, to your ego’s dismay, had made no comment.

You snapped your clutch open and fished a small pocket mirror out, examining your eyeshadow and sighing with relief that it was still intact. Doyoung had been insistent on blindfolding you once again for your excursion and hadn’t even so much as let you see him when he dropped you off, still blindfolded and a little annoyed at him practically shoving you out of the passenger seat in his haste to be on his way.

The sound of your name brought you back to reality and you whirled around, blushing a little as your dress fluttered flirtatiously around the tops of your thighs.

“Ah, Yuta! I was wondering if you would ever show up.” Your face lit up at the sight of an old colleague. It had been so long and frankly you’d forgotten how attractive he was. His hair was medium brown and a little longer than you remembered, lightly parted and teased back from his forehead. He was dressed simply in a large cream colored sweater and jeans but he still managed to look breathtaking.

“I feel so underdressed. You should have let me know you were going to show up looking like a supermodel.” He teased, his eyes raking your figure as he let out a low whistle, earning a wack on the shoulder with your clutch.

“You can stop flirting with your boyfriend whenever you’re ready, this is nauseating.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Doyoung’s voice whispered so closely to your ear, like he could have been standing right behind you.

“Everything alright…?” Yuta’s voice was laced with bemusement rather than concern as he eyed you curiously. He doesn’t miss a thing, too sharp for his own good.

You shook your head, smiling reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Maybe I’m the one underdressed though, it’s a little colder out than I expected.”

Doyoung’s voice scoffed in your ear.

You resisted the urge to look for him. You knew he was somewhere nearby, but he had refused to disclose where, choosing to watch the two of you from the shadows instead and transmitting all of his snarky comments through a pair of large stud earrings that he had created himself for the sole purpose of spying on you tonight. You had to admit that you were impressed with his creations, not only were they functional but they didn’t look half bad either (although you weren’t typically one for jewelry).

Yuta wrapped a strong arm around your waist, nearly blinding you with his smile as he pulled you flush against him.

“I didn’t bring an extra jacket, so this will have to suffice.” He said, smiling wider as you two started aimlessly strolling through the park.

Doyoung made a noise that sounded suspiciously like he’d thrown up in his mouth.

“So, Yuta, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Ah, always right to business as always. How can you even say the world pleasure with a straight face?”

“I manage. Explain yourself, please.” You fixed him with a tight smile, hoping to emphasize that you didn’t have time for unnecessary pleasantries.

Yuta sighed, his smile fading and leaving him looking like a completely different person.

“I know you were looking for Kim Doyoung. I also know that you found him and he captured you. What I’d like to know is how you managed to escape him for a date night with me and how much of this he can hear.” He said nonchalantly, as if he was merely inquiring after your family’s health.

“Tell him that I can hear enough to know that he’s stalling and I don’t like it.”

Yuta shook with earnest laughter when you repeated Doyoung’s message, his hand sliding south to cup your hip as he pressed himself into you, leaned into your ear and whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

“Tell him that it was foolish to let you out in public, especially looking so scandalous. We are being followed. Keep your eyes forward.” He smiled into your cheek, keeping you close against him and looking ever the affectionate couple.

“If it was so foolish then why did you invite me here?” You asked coyly, leaning your head on his shoulder, careful not to put your weight on your ear as you played along with him.

“Sweetheart, did you forget my line of work? I could have made a fortune sending someone else to meet you here in place of me. I haven’t forgotten all the favors you’ve done for me, or how cute you are, so consider this a token of my affection. Leave the country as soon as you can and let Hackerman fend for himself. Getting yourself involved is only going to invite disaster. I have a passport under a new name and plane tickets to Japan here for you if you’ll take them.”

You picked your head up, locking your eyes with his and searching them for any sign of insincerity. Yuta was always smiling and joking around, but when he was serious you knew that he meant it. Playful as he may be, he didn’t like to mince words when it came to business. Your heart sank. He really must have thought it was impossible to make a difference if that was what he wanted to meet you for.

“I can’t just walk away from this, Yuta. I can’t do nothing, not guilt-free. Instead of telling me to be a coward, please, help me.” You could hear the pleading in your voice. You wouldn’t normally take a weak stance like this, especially during a bargain with an associate, but you were truly desperate. You knew Yuta was well-connected and he could get exactly what you needed if he didn’t have it already, even if you weren’t sure what it was that you needed in the first place.

“Ah, abominable justice. How often it stands in the way of wisdom.” He said, almost to himself as he avoided your gaze, instead casting a forlorn look skyward.

You had finally stopped walking and had found yourself at the entrance of a large, ornately decorated hotel.

“We should talk about this inside.” He said, squeezing your hip and looking at you meaningfully.

In your peripheral you could see the shadowy figures that had been tailing you for the duration of your romantic evening stroll and your breath caught. This was dangerous. As much as you wanted to trust Yuta you knew it would be incredibly stupid, for lack of a fancier word, to enter an enclosed space with him. You were already in his territory, the only comfort at your disposal being whatever Doyoung knew that inspired him to insist that this entire ordeal had been a smart move. 

Unfortunately staying outside with your uninvited guests wasn’t a very appealing option either.

Your fingers twitched reflexively towards your hip in annoyance, wishing that he had at least allowed you to equip yourself with a weapon, while still understanding why he didn’t. Your chances of being able to best Yuta in hand to hand combat were limited, from what little amount of information about his personal life you had managed to dig up you knew that he was, well, dangerous to put it simply.

He seemed to have some sort of gang affiliation but every lead was a dead end. It was like he didn’t even exist. A phantom. He had made it clear in all of your interactions that as long as you were an asset to him that he would mutually protect you, but you weren’t sure that would still ring true if the right price was offered.

As if in answer to some unspoken prayer, Doyoung’s voice breathed relief in your ear.

“It’s alright. Go with him. I’ve already infiltrated the hotel’s surveillance system, it looks clean. I have a .30 caliber rifle round with his name on it if he tries anything.”

You fought to keep your face neutral at the discovery that Doyoung was positioned somewhere with a sniper rifle. You guessed that was probably a very large part of why he kept you in the dark on the way here…literally.

You nodded once, allowing Yuta to steer you through the automatic doors and into the lobby. Neither of you spoke as he pressed the call elevator button. Your arms were crossed across your chest, your nails digging crescent moons into your triceps. Each floor the elevator fell towards the lobby where you were waiting seemed to raise your anxiety, making you hyper aware of your surroundings.

You knew this feeling too well. Everything was in slow motion but moving too fast at the same time. Colors felt too bright, noises were loud and yet muffled. Everything looked too sharp.

A chime sounded from somewhere that sounded too far away to be meant for you and the elevator doors slid open, inviting you inside.

You stepped into the elevator with Yuta and watched him press the button for the top floor followed by a series of other buttons. As the doors shut you could see Yuta watching you intently in the highly polished gold surface.

You turned to face him and there was something unfamiliar in his face. You stared at each other for a few moments before you looked away, somehow shy, turning to face forward again. You wanted to ask what was on his mind, but you felt like if you broke the silence it would make things stranger in some way or another, so you opted to stare at your distorted likeness in the door in silence as the lift slowly ascended to the top floor.

Another distant chime announced your arrival and you watched your and Yuta’s reflections retreat from one another as the elevator doors opened, revealing a very large and extravagant penthouse suite. 

The ceilings were impossibly high and most of the suite seemed to be constructed with either glass or highly polished silver metal, the furnishings almost exclusively in black leather. It was very minimalistic, yet modern, and it reminded you of Doyoung’s apartment which lightened the weight in your stomach just a bit. There were ceiling to floor windows lining the wall opposite the door with a gorgeous and expansive view of the skyline.  You sheepishly thought to yourself that the suite matched your outfit uncannily well, and couldn’t help wondering if Doyoung had intended it to.

Yuta sighed, bee-lining for the miniature bar and pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. He silently raised it to you in offering but you declined, shaking your head.

“Don’t know why I bothered, but I always hope that one day I’ll spend the evening with the beautiful woman I met years ago instead of the secret agent I always seem to see instead.” He laughed, almost bitterly, before draining the glass and setting it back on the counter with a distinct echo of glass striking marble.  He made his way to the black leather sofa that was facing the skyline, motioning for you to join him.

You sat next to him and watched him expectantly, waiting impatiently for him to speak.

“Yuta…” You started, but he held up one hand to silence you, still staring resolutely at the night sky.

“You won’t go to Japan.” 

It was more a statement than a question but you nodded in confirmation all the same.

“And you want me to help you do…whatever it is you hope to accomplish in some other way?”

You nodded again. He sighed again, finally turning to face you, expressionless.

“What do I hope to gain from risking my life for this? I’ve already put myself in danger just being here with you, but I did it with the expectation that you would be leaving with me and we could wash our hands of this.”

“And what, exactly, did you hope to gain from that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yuta smirked, turning to face you, resting his hand on your thigh, just below the hem of your dress.

“Only everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

You inhaled sharply, your shock written all over your face. His words weren’t much but his body language communicated everything as clear as day. Your leg where Yuta’s large hand was resting felt like it was on fire and you could feel heat radiating from your face.

Yuta was always flirtatious but you always took it with a grain of salt, assuming that was just his personality. You’d never even considered the possibility that he could actually be interested in you and you were too taken aback by this new information that you couldn’t even properly consider it.

Before you could collect yourself enough to respond the familiar chime of the elevator echoed through the room. Yuta threw himself on the floor, pulling you with him, and groped around under the sofa finally extracting two 9MM pistols that were concealed there, handing one to you as he cocked the other.

You nodded, cocking yours as well, crawling to the opposite side of the couch but keeping your eyes on Yuta, waiting for his signal.

He raised one finger and pointed towards the door, both of you springing into action simultaneously. You leaped forward, landing onto your stomach and rolling back onto your side, your pistol aimed at whoever was dumb enough to try and take the two of you on and walk through the front door. It was a tall man, dressed entirely in black with his face covered by a black scarf. Only his eyes were visible but it was too far off for them to tell you much about his identity.

Why the fuck hadn’t Doyoung warned you about this? Now that you thought about it he had been oddly silent for some time now, you hoped he was okay….

“Any weapons on the ground and hands where we can see them if you value your fucking life. If I have to fire a single shot know that your death will not come swiftly.” Yuta shouted, but the intruder remained undeterred.

The stranger raised his arms and placed them on his face instead of his head, tugging at the fabric that obscured his identity.

You gaped, dumb-founded, as the scarf fell away and revealed an absolutely furious Doyoung.

“If you don’t lower your gun now I will rip your entire shitty operation apart from the seams and collectively fuck you and each one of your affiliates in ways you’ve only dreamed of late at night when you’re alone.” Doyoung hissed, glaring directly at Yuta and ignoring both you and your stunned silence.

“Would now be a good time to mention that I’ve cracked all of your off-shore accounts wide open and started siphoning money out of them as soon as I saw your message? You’re losing an average of 20 Yen every second that you waste staring at me and trying to get the three brain cells you have left to do some actual work, in addition to the 2.8 million Yen you’ve already lost.”

Yuta looked like he was being strangled. He placed his pistol on the floor in front of him, sliding it across the smooth marble floor to Doyoung, placing his hands above his head and lowering his eyes in deference.

“Oh, and don’t bother waiting up for your lackeys, they’ve long since been disposed of.” Doyoung sneered, picking up Yuta’s discarded pistol and stalking towards him.

“I have to admit, I was sincerely impressed with your daring. Execution, not so much. Very sloppy. Hacking a government database and betting that we would see it? Banking on no one else knowing about your cute date night all that time ago or figuring out your riddle? Better lucky than good, I suppose.” Doyoung’s smile stretched wider with every cutting word that left his lips while Yuta’s scowl only deepened.

“Fuck you.” Yuta spat, his eyes reduced to slits, teeming with hatred as Doyoung loomed over him.

Doyoung laughed, if you could call it that. It was a harsh sound, like a bark.

“That’s not what you really want, we both know that now.” He said, crouching down and ruffling Yuta’s hair, antagonizing him further. You finally found your voice.

“Doyoung, what the hell is going on?” Your voice sounded foreign, hollow, like it belonged to someone else. Doyoung finally turned to face you, his face impassive.

“Be quiet for now, please. I’m handling this. I’ll explain later.”

Fury coursed through your veins as you raised the pistol Yuta had given you, pointing it directly between Doyoung’s eyes. 

“Explanations happen right now. From both of you.”