#for every shirt with the design only being on the front i kill a hostage

[maretriarch]

every shirt is 1-3 inches too short and its not a crop top

[ficsilike-reblogged]

What’s in a Name?

A/N: This is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written in my entire life. But it’s soft. Because Marcus Pike is soft and deserves all the love. Granted, I’ve only watched The Mentalist all the way through once, so...do with that what you will. 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? I just want to be on the safe side. Idiots in love. Falling in love with someone and not knowing their name. Cliche use of a Quote from Romeo + Juliet.

Word Count: 3.3k 

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to learn your name and the one time he actually does.

Pike was unlucky in love. He knew it. He had started to accept it when things fell apart with Lisbon. His friends and fellow agents, the assholes, actually took pity on him and said he’d find the right person eventually. He just didn’t anticipate having to meet her over and over again.

... that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet... (Romeo + Juliet)

Sometimes, every once in a while, he actually hated his job. Sure, he got to go undercover, stop criminals, right some wrongs, and be called ‘agent’ on top of it. But, right now, listening to some sycophant rant and rave about the “superiority of Cubism over Dadaism,” he wanted to switch careers. There was supposed to be a sale of a stolen Cézanne happening at this gallery in Los Angeles and Pike had suspected the guy with the too-tight three piece suit and bad transatlantic accent was the ring-leader of the whole theft and re-sale. He just needed to not spork his eyes out until he saw money pass hands from the agent he’d sent in to pose as the buyer and the thief-turned-art-asshole. He thought it would only take an hour or two, busts like this usually did—but this guy loved the sound of his own voice so much that he had been going on a tangent about 20th century art movements for nearly four hours now and had somehow gathered a bit of an audience, too, debating with others, and the like. It was exhausting just listening to him.

“If you give me ten dollars, I’ll spill some red wine on his shirt and he’ll be forced to leave.”

Marcus looked to the left at the sudden voice and found a woman pretending to look at the piece in front of him, just like he had been doing. She was pretty, dressed in a high-end dress and sky-high, red-bottom heels, and looked every bit the part of an old money socialite. “Ten dollars?”

“I’d do it for free, but I need to receive some sort of incentive so I’m not just doing it out of spite. I heard that’s bad karma.” She hid her smirk behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“I’ve heard spite is a fantastic motivator.”

She hummed and squinted at the painting as if she cared. Maybe she did. “This is an awful piece of work. Truly, one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

The man behind them continued to talk just as a waiter passed by with a platter full of red wine and she skillfully plucked one from him without missing a beat. She finished her champagne and handed Pike her empty flute. His eyebrows raised as she smiled at him.

“I’m Marcus.” He held out a hand for her to take. She shook it with a smile but didn’t give her name in return. She winked and walked away—right toward the mark.

And yes, she dumped red wine all over him.

There was a collective gasp and he watched the scene with a muted sort of fascination as she then managed to make the art thief smile with some joke she must have said and then he walked away to clean up. The crowd dispersed. The other agent was able to snag the thief and make the exchange and handcuffs were placed on his wrists all within a couple of minutes.  

Maybe he should have actually paid her the ten dollars. She really did just speed everything up.

But, when he looked around to find her, she was gone. 

                                                            **

The second time he met her was at an art auction in D.C. There was no sting. No operation. The Art Squad had recently helped the auction’s sponsor recover a priceless Van Gogh piece and they had insisted the entire Squad come to the black tie dinner and auction, foregoing the 1000-dollar-charge-per-plate the ticket usually cost. The food was good. The wine and champagne was obviously expensive and Pike was sure he’d see some of the art that was being auctioned off in his case files in the next few years. That was just the way of the world. He looked around at the displays and glanced at the sheets where people had written down their bids. Some people were being generous—most others were being cheap. 

He slowed to a stop in front of a small Dalí and then down at the auction sheet. It was currently up to only a few hundred dollars. He wouldn’t win, he was sure, but he could pretend to participate in this ridiculous auction.

“I didn’t take you for a Dalí fan.” Her voice was still smooth and he knew, instinctively, that she was smiling before he even turned to look at her. She was draped in sky blue silk and pearls, reminding him of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

“I think he’s iconic, to be sure.”

She sidled up to him and looked at the small painting. “Thinking about bidding? It looks like everyone else is besotted with that original Warhol.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to reference the crowd steadily growing on the other side of the ballroom.

But all he could focus on was the smell was her perfume. Expensive and floral, it seemed to fit her perfectly.

Manicured fingers handed him a Mont Blanc pen from the depths of her designer bag. “Best of luck, Agent Pike.”

As she walked away, he realized she knew his last name now—somehow—and he still didn’t know hers.

Pike tried to find her again in the mess of rich people, to ask her name and how she knew of his ‘agent’ status and last name. But all he managed to do was catch a glimpse of blue silk as she exited the venue.

“Do you know her?” A tired-looking man asked as he walked to Pike’s side. “She left a large donation and my boss will kill me if we don’t have a name to write in our next list of donors.”

“I…I don’t actually. Did she bid on anything? Maybe we could get her name that way.”

And for the next fifteen minutes or so, he filtered through the crowd, trying to ask inconspicuously about his Venus and if she had bid on anything. And, when he finally learned that she had bid on an Alphonse Mucha sketch. And he almost felt lucky. Almost!

Because, as he made his way over to where everyone was pointing, he saw only two scribbles on the sheet. Surely he could discern which one of the names was hers. 

One was Richard…

And the other one was just a scribble of blue ink, smudged beyond legibility.

                                                         **

(A few weeks later, he was delivered a package at his office. Inside was the Dalí he had bid on. On a slip of paper was a smudged smiley face and the word: Enjoy!)

                                                        **

The third time he met her was decidedly less glamorous. The Art Squad had been trailing a group of thieves across the East Coast when they finally caught up to them in Boston. Pike had hoped they’d be able to catch them in the act and be done with it.

Instead, what they found when they stormed into the art museum, was the thieves holding several hostages. And, of course with his luck, she was among them.

Her hands were behind her head and she was on her knees as one of the thieves pointed a gun to the back of her head. Boredom was, surprisingly, coloring her face but she smiled when she caught sight of Pike. “Hi, Marcus.”

“Hi,” he said in return, fighting a smile of his own.

The whole thing was over in just over an hour and the hostages were released and the thieves were carted off in the back of a police van.

And maybe now he’d finally learn her name.

He was the lead agent on the case so he had to answer a million and one questions from other agents, from outside law enforcement, from the press. And, belatedly, he watched his least favorite agent, Rhett Brown, approach his unnamed Venus. The agent was fine when given a gun and told to shoot—but how he’d managed to wind up on the Art Squad was a mystery. He’d lost or misfiled more paperwork than anyone else Pike had encountered put together.

Pike knew he needed to finish all of this nonsense—and really, he shouldn’t call it nonsense, this was important—if he wanted to even have a chance to get her name. But the local police asked a lot of questions (they were doing their job, he couldn’t blame them) and then the press conference dragged on (again, they were just doing their jobs). And by the time he finished, he jogged back to where the former hostages had been held as they were being questioned.

And, of course, she was gone.

Pike pulled Rhett aside and asked for his notes.

Rhett nodded and stuck his hand into his suit pocket and then froze. “Oh no.” He quickly patted down his other pockets and shouted at another agent, “have you seen my notepad, man?”

                                                            **

Pike was tired when he met her for the fourth time. 

The deposition had lasted longer than he anticipated, stretching long into the night. The case was a strange one, involving inheritances, forged wills, and a “disappeared” Jackson Pollock that “reappeared” across the country. The hotel was nice, however, and he slumped into a stool at the hotel’s upscale bar and ordered a pale ale.

It was set in front of him quickly and he drained half of it without much fanfare.

“I always thought you looked more like a whiskey kind of guy.” 

He nearly spat out his drink. 

She slid into the stool next to him and ordered a top shelf cognac. Her lips were painted a vibrant shade of red and left a mark against the glass as she took a sip of the amber liquid. “Long day?”

“You could say that. You?”

She nodded with a small smile. “What’re you doing in New York? More FBI business?”

“Something like that.” He took another drink of his beer and she watched him over the edge of her own glass. “How’d you know I was in the FBI?”

“We have friends in common. I know Charlie—you helped him get back his precious Van Gogh.”

“Ah, Charlie.” He nodded in understanding.

“Yes, he went on and on about the FBI agent who saved his marriage—imagine that, an entire marriage hanging on the edge of one painting.” Despite cognac being meant for sipping, she had already nearly drained her glass. “Imagine my surprise when it was you—the man from the gallery opening who basically gave me full permission to dump wine on a pompous asshole.” She watched him laugh as she took another sip of the dark amber liquid. “Charlie pointed you out when you came to the auction. The man can hardly remember his children’s names but he remembers yours.” She smiled and he could have sworn he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. “But I like the um…” she gestured at his chin and then placed her finger beneath her nose in a childish imitation of a mustache. “It’s a good look.”

He laughed—she was good at making him laugh. “I was undercover.”

“Oh?” It came out with another laugh. “Aren’t you mysterious?”

“I’m mysterious? You know my name and my job—and that I think Dalí is iconic. I know nothing about you.”

“What is there to know? I procure art for people who have too much money. I spend more time on planes or in hotels than I do in my little apartment in New Orleans. I like Humphrey Bogart movies and a good blanket.” She smiled before polishing off the last dredges of her drink. “See? Now you know more about me than I do about you. And it is all far less interesting.”

His heart had lodged itself higher and higher into his throat as each word passed her lips. “No…I-I think you’re really interesting and beautiful and I…I would love to know more.”

She was embarrassed, he could tell, but she still smiled. Her mouth opened to say something else and-

-a bellhop stepped to her side. “Your bags have been loaded into the car, ma’am.”

She turned and thanked him, pressing a few bills into his hand before she stood and grabbed her purse. She put a few more bills—far more than her drink could have possibly cost—onto the bar top and signaled to the bartender that she was paying for both their drinks before he could even think to stop her. “Thanks for the company.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He was in a bit of a daze as she leaned down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The familiar scent of her expensive perfume touched his nose as she pulled back.

“I’ll see you around, Agent Pike. But really,” she once again mimed the mustache, “it’s a good look.”

He murmured his goodbye, head still pleasantly swimming, and watched her walk away.

It took him a full five minutes to realize he still didn’t know her name.

                                                     **

The fifth time he met her, he’d been stuck at O’Hare International Airport for five hours. Five hours in the worst airport known to mankind. His flight back to DC had been delayed and then delayed some more and then delayed some more. He’d only been in Chicago for a few days to help lead some training to the local arm of the Bureau. Nothing exciting. And now he was stuck waffling between two equally awful airport restaurants for dinner while he continued to wait.

“Hey stranger.”

He turned to see her walking toward him, a designer carryon being wheeled behind her scuffed sneakers. Her hair was up in a lop-sided bun and she had traded her dress for a pair of jeans and an oversized band t-shirt. And why was his mouth filling with saliva? She threw her arms around him in a hug that he quickly reciprocated, squeezing her around the middle as she laughed lightly in his ear. “It’s good to see you. I see you kept the facial hair.”

He laughed and scrubbed a hand over his patchy beard and mustache. “Yeah, I guess I did.” Pike cleared his throat, trying to not sound so smitten. “Where’re you heading now?”

“Home, thankfully. I’ve been go-go-go since I saw you last. It seems everyone wants to give works of art as presents this year. I’m kind of scared what Christmas is going to mean.”

He smiled, liking to know about her life, how she felt. “Been anywhere exciting?”

“Paris and Milan lose their charm after a while. But I finally got to go to Casablanca.” There was a near twinkle in her eye now. “I felt like I should’ve been running around in a trench and fedora, chain-smoking. God knows how many times I muttered ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid’ to myself like a loon.” She shook her head as she bit her lip. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m jetlagged.”

“It’s okay, really. I…I like it.”

She shoved at his shoulder with another laugh. “Careful. You’ll make me fall in love with you.”

“Would that be so bad?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them—something he usually did when he let his stupid, romantic heart take the lead.

She tilted her head as she looked at him with an almost shy smile playing on her lips. “No. No, I don’t think that’d be bad at all.” They looked at each other, each fighting a smile and stupid fluttering of their hearts for the near-stranger in front of them. She broke the little daydream by clearing her throat and glancing away for a moment. “And you? Been anywhere exciting?”

“Just Chicago. Had to lead some training. My flight’s been delayed for a couple hours. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here before midnight.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a good place to eat in this hellscape, I’d recommend the restaurant near C26. I’ve yet to get food poisoning from them—and the food’s pretty good, too.”

“You want to join me?” He asked, something optimistic blooming in his chest.

But her smile fell. “I wish I could. But my flight starts boarding soon.”

As if on cue, there was an announcement over the intercom. “Hello passengers and welcome to Flight 306 to New Orleans. Right now, we will start boarding with our group one passengers and active duty military in uniform.” 

“That’s me,” she said with a sigh. “But it was good to see you, Marcus.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed her hand for a moment, keeping her still. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

She paused and then laughed, a full-belly laugh that quickly had him laughing, too. “It’s-”

A passenger cart beeped as it zoomed by, carrying a few elderly women.

“Group one, you’re free to board. Group one,” the announcement seemed to echo in the terminal, overly loud on the old speakers.

He swore he saw her lips move. He did!

But then she was squeezing his fingers again and walking away.

                                                     **

The cherry blossoms were in bloom. Aside from the terrible crowds they brought and the overall mugginess that came with the season, it was one of the things he liked about living in DC. He was sitting on a bench and watching the wind blow through the trees, rustling the pink and white petals gently. His lunchbreak was ending soon and he’d have to get back to the office. The other agents had caught on about his “mysterious lady friend” when he’d finally arrived back from Chicago and had been ribbing him about it ever since. (“How did you not get her name already, Pike?!” A question for the ages.) He crumpled the wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it in the nearest bin, preparing to leave the park.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

But when he opened them, she was standing in front of him like something out of his daydreams. She smiled at him before helping herself to the space beside him on the bench. “I was told you like this bench when the blossoms are in bloom.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Your fellow agents are very chatty, you know.”

“You came looking for me?”

“’Course. I was in town. The auction I need to attend isn’t until tonight and…yeah,” she trailed off, embarrassment coloring her tone as she looked away from him for a moment. “Yeah, I thought I’d see you.”

His smile was so big he was sure it was going to break his face. “I’m glad you did.” He reached out and curled his fingers around hers as they rested on the bench beside her legs.

Her smile was shy but she squeezed his fingers in return as she kept looking out over the cherry blossom trees. “It’s pretty here. I’d love to wake up and just see this.” She waved her free hand toward the blossoms.

“Well, it happens every year. You can come back.” Or you could stay, his traitorous, lovesick heart whispered. But no, he wouldn’t say that. No yet, at least. He could take this slow.

But then she kissed him, quick and soft—he nearly missed it. And she was quickly leaning back against the bench, trying to school her features into indifference.

“What is your name?” He asked, question bursting forward.

She guffawed and pulled her hand back with an exaggerated flourish, fighting another smile. “I told you at the airport!”

“There-there was a transport honking and-and an intercom and then you left-!”

She cupped his cheek in her hand and the words died in his throat. She smiled again, fighting a laugh, and whispered her name.

He whispered it back, rolling the letters across his tongue carefully, pressing it into his mind to keep and hold.

He liked her name.

Part Two

[chaoticcute]

Can you do a Diego x male reader from umbrella academy Angsty please

Another anon request came in! Yay!

Again I am hopefully good at this because let me just say I suck at writing x male readers so...I’m sorry if this is horrible anon!

—————————————————-

Knifey Mcstabbins

Diego x male reader

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Death, Language, Angst. Mentions of rape, I dunno if Fluff counts as a warning but it’s fluffy at the end.

I think that’s it.

This takes place in S.1 sorry anon if that’s not what you wanted I haven’t seen season 2 yet

Plot: While investigating a case, you hear something, once you find out where it’s coming from you end up getting shot by the commission. Klaus is set free however you end up in the hospital, Diego worries for you and doesn’t leave your bedside

——————————————————————————————————————————————

There you were walking along the pavement. You made sure to keep your steps silent as to not startle anyone who could be lurking around. Your eyes slowly searching the perimeter, fingers set at the grip of your gun. You take a breath in then out then back in and you hold it, mentally counting the seconds until you slowly and silently let out another breath.

Was coming here without back up stupid? Possibly, but you were so close to finding the bastards that not only trashed Griddys but also killed that poor mechanic, and you didn't want to waste the opportunity.

Taking another deep breath inward, you slid your gun from its holster then round the corner. You find nothing except an empty walkway.

Fuck!

You survey the area around you, this time checking behind you just as a precaution before returning to take steps forward. Your hand wrapped around your gun,

That's when you hear it.

Thunk, Pause.

You stopped dead, your heart suddenly kicking into high gear but you didn't move. Not yet.

In..Out...In..Ou-

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

You listened closely, finger drifting to the trigger as you turned on your heels. Raising the weapon you made your way toward the motel room, only to hear the agonizing sound that followed. Pain and panic all put together in a mass of tears, no doubt it was a hostage, that or it was..well.. You didn't want to think about that.

Pulling the walkie up to your lips, you glanced at the door. Listening as the sound started to cease, your voice soft as you spoke

”Urgent matter, I repeat urgent matter. The suspects have been spotted, possible hostage inside.”

Nothing but static followed for a moment before you heard a voice.

”Wait for back up Detective.”

You rolled your eyes thankful that whoever was on the line couldn't see you. You were known to be a tad bit stubborn and lacking when it came to impulses, somehow you still managed to pass the Academy.

Gritting your teeth you waited for another response but when you found none you sighed. This was bullshit! Whoever was on the other side of that door could be dying or worse and sitting here waiting for backup wasn't going to get you anywhere.

Making your way to the front desk, you quickly entered only to find that the room was empty. Cursing under your breath, you shook your head, it seemed like as luck would have it you would be doing this a different way than you had expected to. Chewing at the inside of your cheek you hopped over the counter before ripping the key from its place on the wall. Praying no one saw you, you hurriedly made your way back to the room.

The silence from before was enough to make your heart drop. The idea that you might have waited too long was horrifying but as you opened the door, you took a breath in.

1 2 3 Out

You took silent steps, gun raised. You didn't want to take the risk of being heard but what you saw inside was both relieving and terrifying.

A man, whom you could only assume was the one trying to get your attention sat bound by duck tape in a chair next to the table. Tears spilling over in his green eyes. You glanced at his familiar face then knelt down next to him, a knife sliding from your boot to your hand. You raised it to your lips, silently shushing him then cut the tape.

Heart raging in your chest you pulled the tape away from his mouth, a sudden realization hitting you.

Klaus had been the one they kidnapped, in hopes that Five or the others would come for him. You cringed at the thought of what they had done to him but as he went to speak you pressed your finger to his lips. ”Are they here?” you asked so quietly you were sure you might have just mouthed it.

Klaus nodded and you lowered your finger, keeping quiet he inclined his head toward the bathroom, with a slight smile you signed a quick thank you then you motioned for him to run or at least hide.

Klaus took no time to follow that instruction as he grabbed the briefcase from the vent and bolted.

He was such a dork.

Knife and gun at the ready you slowly took a few steps forward, however, as you entered the bathroom you were met with a burly man in a blue suit. Your face darkened, ”Drop the gun.”

The man followed your orders, both hands raised as he went to drop the gun, but as the gun touched the floor, you heard another being loaded.

You cursed, then you sighed.

”Are you really gonna shoot me?” you asked not taking your eyes off of the man in front of you.

”Unless you know somethin’ gimme one good reason I shouldn't.” the voice behind you was feminine, the slight sass to her voice was enough to make you snicker.

”Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?”

The man’s eyes flickered behind you, footsteps approached a gun pressed to your back.

”We’re looking for someone.”

”Aren’t we all?”

Your eyes still stayed on the man in front of you, but once you heard no response from the woman behind you, you smiled.

Without warning, you turned, and with a fluid motion, the knife in your hand soared through the air and from the man screamed as it pierced his hand pinning him to the wall.

You turned to the woman now, eyes narrowed

”Did you really think you sonsofbitches could get away with this?” you asked, anger rising into your tone.

The woman in front of you smirked and shook her head, then all at once your entire world flipped.

Gunfire

Agonizing pain as you fell to the floor, then everything went black.

Your eyes slowly opened when you heard a familiar beeping. The uncomfortable hospital bed underneath you was enough to make you groan slightly but as you went to move your hand you felt another at your own.

You turned your aching head toward the owner of that hand and nearly blushed as you saw your boyfriend sitting beside you. His fingers laced with yours,

”Hey Knifey.” you said, your voice gentle

Diego didn't respond, in fact as soon as his eyes met yours you felt your heart skip a beat.

”Are you expecting me to apologize, cause I'm not going to.”

Diego squeezed your hand, a clear sense of anger to his brown eyes as they met with yours.

”You could have died Y/N, didn't you think about that?”

You were taken aback by his comments, wasn't he saying earlier that you should try this his way? You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand from his,

”You said try things your way. So I did! ”

Diego rose from his seat, ”I said my way not nearly getting yourself killed.”

”How the hell was I supposed to-”

Diego cut you off, rising from his seat.

”You should have waited,”

”So now you're backtracking, Do things your way now I should have waited? What the hell Diego at least I fucking got them!”

”You got one of them, but you, You got shot!

You paused, you could hear the anger, the pain in his tone. He was probably up near half the night, checking on you every second, every chance that he got. He was worried about you.

You glanced at your bandaged shoulder, small bits of blood staining the once white gauze around the wound. You were lucky, to say the least, thankful they missed their shot as if it would have hit any lower...You might not be here.

”I’m sorry.” you said finally, you didn't want to admit you were wrong and normally that took a bit longer to come to, but fighting over who was wrong or right at the moment wasn't important. The fact that you were alive and the fact he was worried. Is what mattered.

Diego sighed, crossing his arms. ”I..I Ju..just don't know what I would have done..if you had.” he faded at the last word, he didn't have enough courage to even speak it instead he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled shakily.

He didn't normally cry, you knew that. The only things that you knew of that could make him cry were his mom, Klaus, and you.

You were added to that list the day you two became a couple. He always said he’d die for you, and you for him but you didn't think it would be so literal. You looked up at him, ”Diego, babe I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just jump in. I just...I wanted to..I wanted to bring the bastards down. They killed your mom.”

You hesitated, bringing them down meant nothing more than vengeance if you died though so was it really worth it? You bit down on your lip.

”I know you're upset and you have every right to be. I...I put myself in harm's way.I didn't think about it. I thought that maybe if I brought then down. You'd be happy, you'd be proud of me.”

It was then you saw Diego’s eyes flicker up to you. ”I am happy, Y/N..” he paused, is that what you thought. That he wasn't happy? That he wasn't proud of you?

He took his seat next to you again, your fingers at his lips as he kissed them.

“Y/N,” he began “I’m so sorry if I made you think that my happiness had to be somehow in someway earned. That In order for me to be proud of you, you had to take down two criminals that if I wanted to I could have just taken down myself..I am so proud of you, you were so brave for doing what you did and I love you. I love you so much Y/N and..” he paused again tears forming

“I’m sorry..”

You placed your hand in his again before tugging toward yourself, he pulled himself into the bed next to you your head resting at his chest.

“It’s okay, “ you whispered back, tracing designs into his shirt. His arm wrapped around you, head against the pillow. You smiled “How long has it been since you slept?” There wasn’t an answer and as you looked up toward him, his eyes were closed. Sleep seeming to take him.

Turning your head toward his hand that was resting carefully over your wound you winced softly thankful for the pain meds that were working through you. You kissed his knuckles before resting your head back against his chest.

“Sleep well, Knifey Mcstabbins.” You yawned allowing yourself to return into a blissful sleep.

——————————————————————————————————————

A/N: my brain is jelly. I’m tired so I am so sorry if Diego is somewhat OOC it wasn’t my intention. Thank you again for requesting this anon, I did my best at the whole angst thing but I’m so sorry if this sucks.

Hopefully you enjoyed this though and if you liked this please don’t be afraid to ask for more! Love you all

Love L.M.O

[typinggently]

Hello, Your posts are so great, especially your feral bruce ones which I adore! Keep up the amazing work, 😊

Thank you so much, sweetheart!!!! I’m so happy you’re enjoying them! :) I’m so sorry that it took me so long to reply but please, have some

Feral Bruce FuzzBeat Headlines

(they were previously called FuzzBeed but that makes no sense so they renamed themselves somewhere around 2012)

BRULEY? 10 Times Bruce Wayne Proved He Has A Taste For The Bad Girls!

Includes for example the time he said he liked her outfits when asked how he felt about her trying to rob Wayne Enterprises (in Gotham it’s custom that every big firm has a Good Luck Safe with 1Mil$ in gold);

the time they asked him on the red carpet to play f/m/k with Ivy, Harley and Selina and he went “I’m not killing any of them” and left (bit of a stretch but it’s FuzzBeat);

the time the GothGala (yearly charity event in Gotham) he was attending was busted by her and he was briefly taken hostage (complete with comically large bomg strapped to his chest) and he later on told the paps her show was “the highlight of his evening” while wearing a bright orange shock blanket over his tux)

-

BRUMAN? 10 Times Bruce Wayne Proved He Has A Taste For The Bad Boys!

Includes for example the time he said he respects Batman’s fashion sense and accessories;

The time he got caught sipping out of his batmug while accepting deliveries at the gate of Wayne Manor;

The time he straight up wore the utility belt in public because he got dressed on three hours of sleep. You might think neither of these instances really hint at him being into Batman as opposed to him just being a fan, but considering he has worn things his hook-ups left at his place before, it doesn’t seem to be that much of a stretch. (Things like earrings, diamond chokers, Blazers, cufflinks and at one memorable occasion a whole corset etc. It’s not that he really steals these items but some people try to Machiavelli their way into his life (and the headlines) that way and he mostly just goes “oh, you left that here? Then it’s mine now. Thanks.”)

-

Hot But Weird…But Hot? 20 Brucie Outfits That Left Us Feeling Tingly Yet Confused

Includes for example a pap photo of him in his workout gear – black tapered tracksuit bottoms, black cropped hoodie that says “FUCK” on the front and “OFF” on the back. There’s some grey peeking out at the abdomen but the paps don’t know it’s a leotard (he starts his gymnastics with gymnastics and dancing) with a velvet bat on the chest;

A streetstyle pap shot of him in a vintage teddy coat (it’s HUGE – he genuinely looks like he’s being hugged by a huge, fluffy-worn, sand-coloured teddy bear), vintage green ray bans, black ripped jeans, a dark green beanie and a white shirt, sipping a coffee out of a big garfield mug (yes, he’s carrying around a mug while taking a stroll through the city);

The time he went to a fashion show wearing plateau doc martens, dark jeans, black turtleneck, italian-cut suit jacket – everything’s black and rather tight, so it really brings out his shoulders, his waist and legs. Definitely a traditionally hot outfit, we’re all surprised.

-

Design This Bedroom and We’ll Tell You Whether You’d Survive A First Date With Brucie!

The only article on this list Bruce knows about, since Diana posted it in the group chat. Test says she’s too powerful and smart for him. Bruce doesn’t disagree. Arthur and Hal get a “You’re better off as friends”. Clark’s result says “Wow! Are you secretly dating Bruce Wayne?!”, which, considering it happens in their pining stage, makes them both extremely nervous.

[littlebitoffanfic]

Raise

Fandom: Star Wars Character: Hux Relationship: hux/reader Request: Can you write a hux story where the reader is undercover in the resistance by Phasma but no one really knows what she looks like. And Hux gets captured and she has to break cover to get them both out of there. Your heart was racing in your chest. You hoped to every god that maybe, just maybe, the rumours that the General of the First Order had been captured were fake. But you held out little hope. You considered contacting Phasma and asking what you should do, but you knew what her commands would be. Get out of there with the general. He was one of the key components of the first order, and if it came to light that you had been there when the resistance had killed or tortured him, your head would be on the line. But there was another risk. hux would have access to all undercover agents. Even if he himself never personally looked through them and saw the pictures (in case an agent was accidently caught by the order, it meant they would be able to cover themselves), it would put the others in several danger. “3 years down the drain.” You hissed to yourself as you angrily punched in the numbers to let yourself into your room. Grabbing everything you would need for a fight and anything you needed for yourself. You tried to think how you were going to do this. you highly doubted the general would come quietly. He didn’t trust people in his inner circle, why would he trust a resistance worker. No, you would need to gain his trust, at least enough to get him to let you lead him out of here. Just then, you received the beep letting you know you were being contacted. “[y/n], we need you here. We’ve located the file on undercover operatives but we need you to get us in.” Your commanders voice called over the communicator. Of course, they did, you were the best hacker on this ship. But maybe, maybe, this was the break you needed. This confused that they had him, and would probably have him in the same room so they could get info out of him. “Okay, im coming.” You call back, stuffing a few more things into your bag before leaving. You walk along the corridors and left your bag outside the door before entering. No one would think twice because you often had a backpack on you anyways. Stepping inside, you saw the General of the side you were fighting on for the first time in person. He glared at you, much like Phasma had described before. It almost made you laugh if the situation hadn’t been so serious. But unlike his public figure, his appearance was much more dishevelled. His thick, first order coat that had his strips that showed his ranking was discarded on a chair to the side. The general himself was restrained in a chair. His hands were cuffed in front of him and you were sure his feet were cuffed to the table. His bright red hair was out of place and his pale skin had small cuts and bruising around his right eye. His eyes were a deep blue, and almost made you pause for a moment if you weren’t so good at hiding your reactions. A strong jawline showed more signs of a fight while hips lips were covered with some form of tap. The rebellion had silencers which would have done the job, but they would want the general to suffer every time they wanted an answer. his white shirt was torn and showed blood stains. You just hoped he was able to put 2 and 2 together quickly and realise anything you said between now and you getting him out of here was because you were undercover. “So this is the famous general?” You look at the three officers in the room. of course, Leia wouldn’t want to see any sort of pain, regardless of what they had done. And she was all too familiar than this man was one of the people who worked closest with her son now. And Amilyn would have ordered this but wouldn’t want a part of it right now. No, right now was just about getting as much information as quickly as possible. Hence why you were here. The three in the room (apart from you and Hux) were higher ranking gaurds. You knew their names as Dominic, Lanson and Manford but not much else about them. Manford was the one that had called you in, but you barley spoke to the man. “It would appear so. We found this. Can you get in?” Manford asks, holding out a datapad to you. You could feel the generals gaze burning into the side of your head as you took the datapad, looking it over like it was your first time. “I think so.” You nod, taking it over to the console connected to the projector on the adjacent wall. You were quick to hook up the data pad to it so the information that was displayed on the screen could be mirrored on the wall. You got to work, breaking through the walls of the First Order. It was easier than you made it look, because you knew how to bypass everything. After all, you were one of the chief designers on it. You glanced at the general, who was as surprised as the other at how fast you were able to penetrate the system and get into the undercover agents files. “Nice work.” Manford patted your back as you brought up the files to the screen, allowing them to go through each agent one by one. On top was a girl called Ellie Striff but you knew she had abandoned her post 2 nights ago to return to the first order. She only appeared at the top because she had recently returned and her file had been requested to be pulled from the system. The rest were in alphabetical order. Standing up from your chair, you gestured to the seat for Manford to take while you retreated to the back of the room. “You deserve a raise.” Dominic chuckled as you walked past him. “Yeah, im hoping for one.” You shot Hux a sharp look, obviously catching his attention. He knew something was up. Once at the back of the room, behind both Dominic and Lanson who were both too interested in the agents to give you a second look, you slyly pulled out your blaster. Using your phone, you were able to disable all security in the room with a delay on informing the security system. you noticed Manfords gun was left at the other side of the room while Dominic and lanson held theirs still. You stood a little closer to Lanson while keeping your eye on Dominic as you slotted your phone back into your pocket. Now all you had to do was wait as the agents were cycled through in alphabetical order. You watched closely until you saw the first letter of your last name pop up as an Agent who shared a similar name came up. You would be next. The second your image appeared on the screen, you acted. grabbing Lansons gun, you twisted it out of his hand while you raised and shot your blaster at Dominics hand, causing him to drop the gun. Manford went to dart for his gun but you pointed your blaster straight at his face. “Sit down.” You ordered. Much to your surprise, Manford slowly lowered himself to the seat. Dominic and Lanson looked to him for instruction but he could only shake his head. “Lanson, you untie the general and Dominic, get that datapad.” You order them, flicking your gun in the directions of their tasks as they spoke. Dominic grabbed the datapad and returned it to you while Lanson undid huxs bindings. He was particularly nasty when he ripped off the tape from across the generals lips. Hux stood as you moved to his coat and threw it at him. Hux grabbed it and threw it over his shoulders. “in that corner.” You ordered the men into the corner on the opposite side of the room. They huddled up like children just as your phone started to buzz. you pulled it out and saw the name ‘Sally Dawson’. Quickly, you answered it. “Hi Phasma.” You greet cheerfully. “[y/n], we have a big problem-“ She starts to say but you cut her off. “Waaay ahead of you. I’ll be back in about 2 hours.” You tell her. She lets out a very faint chuckle, since you were one of her favourites to deal with and she had a great respect for you. some might even call it some warped kind of friendship. “did you blow you cover?” She asks. “Oh right out of the water.” You nod, chuckling a little yourself. You couldn’t wait to tell her she had phoned you while you were holding some of the top security hostage. “just get Hux back to the base. We can deal with a new position for you later.” She tells you. “Okay, but I want a raise.” You call over the phone and she chuckles yet again. You were sure by the look of Hux’s face that he had never heard anyone speak with Phasma on such a friendly basis. “I’ll see what I can do.” She returns to professionalism and the line goes dead. “Right, General, you might want this.” You reach down and hold out one of the fallen guns to him, which he takes with a nod. “We wont forget this.” Manford growls at you. “im quite sure you wont.” You nod as you go to the door and look out. When you saw there was no one in the hallway, you gestured for Hux to step out of the room. He was quick and quiet, only keeping a suspicious eye on you as he did so. Once outside, you closed the door over and locked it from the outside. The only good thing about the interrogation taking place in a cell. Picking up your bag, you walk quickly down the hallway towards the bay where your ship was. “So, if anyone comes across us, you’re holding me hostage. They wont shook. They think im too valuable.” You tell him as he struggles to keep up with you. he had a had limp. So you fall back a little, walking in line with the general. Hux gives a sharp nod as his eyes watch for any movement. But thankfully, you didn’t run into anyone. You had to do some sneaking to get past some of the guards on the loading bays but you were able to get to your ship with no issues. At least that was one thing to be grateful for. Once inside and safe, you rushed to your seat and quickly started up your ship. “You might want to strap yourself in.” You nod to the seat beside you intended for a second pilot but it was pushed back so could be sat in for leisure. “Do you not know how to fly?” Hux finally spoke, sounding like he was snapping a little at you but you supposed he wasn’t use to getting bossed about. “I know how to fly, but I don’t know how long before they start trying to target us. You have a limp, so you’re obviously a little unsteady on your feet. I aint facing Phasmas writhe all because you insisted you stand and end up knocking yourself out because he got hit.” You snap back a little as you flicked some switches to make sure everything was fine. Hux took the seat without any further questions as your ship rose up off the ground and headed for the exit. You were just thankful that this particular base was on a small planet, meaning you didn’t have to worry about getting permission to leave from command. But it would seem you had little to worry about. You made it off the planet and into space without incident. You quickly set the coordinates for the starkiller base and allowed your ship to do the rest. It was very up to date and you were able to set an auto pilot feature when there was a straight shot. Getting out of your seat, you went to the back of your small craft and grabbed a med kit out of the compartment. Returning to hux, you placed the med kit open on your seat as you kneeled beside him. His hands looked like a good place to start, with cuts on his knuckles and fingers. you grabbed some cotton buds and anti-septic from the kit and took his hand gently in your own so you could dap the areas. He flinched a little with pain, to which you quickly apologised. “how long were you under cover?” Hux asked, seeming to not like the silence. Or just looking for any reason to break it. “3 years.” You tell him. “then I did some work in other places for a couple of years before that.” “Captain Phasma, she sounds like she trusts you.” Hux stated rather than asked. “I think so. Ive never given her a reason not to.” You shrug, placing his right hand on his lap and reaching for his left. “Our system. You got in –“ Hux started but you cut him off. “Really quickly? I should hope so. I helped design it. I should know how it works.” You chuckle a little, nodding your head. You were sure he had other cuts that should be dealt with other than the ones you could see, but you didn’t think he would remove his shirt for you (no matter how much you wanted him to) so you move to his face. you work quickly and Hux allows you. in truth, he is enchanted with you. your gentle touch and soft smile made his heart flutter unlike anything it had ever done in his life. He had been seen by nurses before, but this just felt a little more intimate for him. Maybe because you didn’t have to do this. He would have been fine to wait till you got back to the base. But you went out of your way to make sure he was okay. He’d always like women who gave off a strong aura. He knew his future wife (if he had one) would have to have a level head and be able to handle the stress that came with his name. you did so with both grace and wit. he liked it. “im afraid I don’t have anything for your eye.” You bit your lower lip and look to the box. “you have done quite enough, I assure you.” hux gives you a small chuckle which takes you off guard. From what you had heard, he was a stern and strict man. Perhaps you had gained a little more trust from him than intended. Not that you minded. “Do you know what you will do next?” Hux asks you as you close over the medical box and return it to its original place. “umm…” you return to your seat, thinking it over. “I really don’t know. Maybe I’ll try get one of those cosy office jobs that pay well.” “Are you still looking for a raise?” Hux raises an eyebrow at you and immediately sees a twinkle in your eye. “I should hope so. From what ive seen, you have quite the bounty on your head. I think that’s worth at least a 10% raise and a week extra holidays.” You laugh and Hux chuckles at your remark. “I have a proposition for you.” Hux turns more towards you. “im listening.” You were suddenly a lot more invested in this conversation. “im looking for an assistant. Someone who can deal with paper work and such but still understands the inner working of the first order. Subject to speaking with Phasma and the supreme leader, would you take that job offer?” Hux asks you and you stare with wide eyes at him. “I would certainly consider it very seriously.” You nod, not wanting to sound overly eager. “But why me? Im sure you have thousands of officers who would be perfect for the role who haven’t been away for years.” “It would need to be someone I could tolerate. And you are unlike any officer in my command. It would be refreshing.” He sits back a little, his eyes locked with your own. you didn’t know when you woke up that morning that you would have to do any of this. Abandon your post to save the general and flee the rebels base. Let alone find some kind of kinship with said general. “I would still get a raise?” you ask with a smirk which he quickly returns. “One I guarantee you wont be able to refuse.” Hux nods. “well then, General, I suppose you have yourself an assistant.” You extend your hand to him. His lips twitches to a smile as he reaches out and shakes your hand.

[bestillandremember]

“Never Too Broken”

As Bible School and my time at Capernwray comes to a close, we are spending our last week diving into a specific subject that interests us. I chose the 5 women of Jesus’ genealogy, their broken pasts, and how God used their mess for his glory. I presented it to the class this morning, and thought I’d post it so others could read it. Please let me know what you think! 

“Mara gazed, transfixed with her reflection. The mirror in front of her showed only the surface, as it was designed to. Today, somehow, she marveled at how it managed to identify the depths of brokenness within her. Every day previously, she had passed in front of it, tugging at her shirts, pulling at her shorts, evaluating how much of herself she wanted on display. She fixed her hair, mended her make up. It was if she was perfecting a daily costume, a disguise in which she could walk the streets of her world and not be recognized for who she truly was. It was only when she couldn’t recognize herself, that she would walk away from it. Secure in the fact that everyone else would see only what they wanted to see anyways.

Today though, Mara had no mask to wear. No foundation, no cover up. Everything she currently was stared her down in all it’s shattered glory. She saw every mistake, every damaging decision, every compromise, and every betrayal. She saw nothing but scars, both internal and external, that traced a broken roadmap of her past. Cracks, chips, and dents, like a used car. One many people had driven across the country, through desert heat, wild storms, and bitter winters. One they had left behind with crumbs, stains, and rips in her upholstery like memories of a life she almost had. With very little left to offer, her purpose was leased to those who decided her worth for themselves.

Despite what the world told her, she was not an object. She was a human. One with a soul, thoughts, and feelings, expressed through a heart that was worn on her sleeve and readily offered to others. Even now, the words of those that received it rang in her ears. After a lifetime of dedication, she had ministry leaders tell her she hadn’t done was was necessary to deserve their support. So for years she worked to meet their standards, and lost any sight of a higher calling. Christian leaders that followed told her she created a bad image for their mission by simply being who she was. Though she placed ministry first in her life, followed every rule, performed every task, and respected all boundaries- she was told it was not enough. Over time, she discovered there was nothing she could do to earn their approval. So she decided, almost by default, that her heart belonged elsewhere, as it was clearly misunderstood by those within the Christian community.

The world welcomed her with the open arms that ministry and the church couldn’t. It was charming, captivating, and almost addicting. The people within it asked for everything and nothing at the same time. Men wrapped warm words around her, whispering promises that slithered around her heart like a boa. They increased constrictive control over her slowly, in the name of a type of love that filled a void within her long enough for her to forget to question it. Their demands were masked in deep affection, and she gave freely, deceived by their performance. They asked for her world, and in turn, they became hers. Around and around she went, caught in a lonely orbit over her fragmented life, and they were her sun. In that isolation, the darkness worked away at her light as each person left her denounced and alone. If they gave any reason at all, they called her ‘less than’ and disgusting. They told her she was garbage, a waste of their precious time.

Crying out, she sank to the ground under the weight of an ache that bore down on her soul like a jackhammer. Completely helpless, she had no other choice but to acknowledge the chasm she had long ignored, even as it grew. Tears pooled until they blurred her vision, and the image of the girl in front of her was unrecognizable. Air caught suddenly in her lungs when she realized that she wasn’t alone in the mirror. Four figures had formed, two on either side of her, and she blinked to bring them to clarity. A quartet of women materialized, each laying a hand on her. She jumped at and away from the contact and turned rapidly in either direction, finding she was still alone in her room. How is this possible? she thought, as she came to face her reflection again. The women were still there, each greeting her with a kind, but knowing smile.

The woman farthest to her left was mostly covered. She was draped in several shades of dark and maroon cloth, and a veil shielded her eyes. She wore jewelry, but it was her porcelain face that drew you to her. With just the lower half of it exposed, you saw only the most delicate features. The black that covered her eyes casted a shadow, and had the word “Liar” stitched in beautiful letters across it. Mara’s heart fluttered at the proximity of someone so openly guilty, especially knowing she deserved this label as well. When she asked who she was, the woman tightened her grip briefly on her shoulder and said nothing but,

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

With these words, her veil was lifted, revealing honest eyes that implored her to trust as she looked the woman next to her. As she came into focus, Mara saw she was clothed in extravagant shades of red and gold. Jewelry and gems hung so low on her hips that she imagined if she started dancing, that they would chime and jingle as she swayed. Her skin was soft, and perfumed. She smelled hints of vanilla and a musky sandalwood mingled with ancient scents she didn’t recognize. Her hair was twisted and pinned in an intricate mix of curls, pearls, and other jewels. She was beautiful and alluring. She touched Mara with hands that were bound by a scarlet cord, that wrapped around each her wrists like chains. Before she could ask anything else the woman said,

"For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin- because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.” (Romans 6:6-7)

As she finished, her bindings lifted into the air like smoke and she was free. The next woman could have been her polar opposite, but they smiled at each other like sisters. The third had dusky skin, darkened by hours in the sun and manual labor. Dressed modestly in black fabric that wrapped around her head and framed a gentle face, Mara got the feeling she was mourning. Not just a person, but a life, security, and prosperity. She was simple, but in her brown eyes you saw a spirit and light that was genuine and willing. She spoke boldly as she told her,

"For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.” (Romans 10:10)

Her last word echoed, ricocheting off the walls of Mara’s empty heart, and the woman’s clothes transformed into light blues and whites. With the added illumination, she recognized specs of green in her eyes that brought life to her face. A simple marriage band appeared on the left hand that played with her hair fondly, and she gazed at the last woman. Power and influence dripped from this fourth female force. She was stunningly captivating, wrapped in royal purples, bright teals, and garnished with gold. Her hair fell in long ebony waves, braided around her face so that it stayed out of her light eyes that contrasted intriguingly with her olive skin. Her wrists and fingers were layered in bracelets and rings that glittered in the sun that came in rays through her window.

Mara’s eyes were led to a bright “A” that was threaded into her clothing. A modern reference for a woman clearly not of this century. She lifted her gaze to the woman that straightened under her scrutiny. There was a conflicting shadow that crossed her face, one that clashed with the pride in her features. Loss. Grief. Honor. Virtue. She was torn between something. Maybe love and duty, since they are often separate and can exist outside of each other. She took Mara’s right hand, and placed it in hers. Holding it gently she said,

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)

Her scarlet letter disappeared, and was replaced by a crown. She smiled, and each woman knelt around Mara. She felt a spirit flow through the five of them, uniting and binding them in something she couldn’t apply any logic to. Though she fought it, there was a tangible connection that transcended time. It knit them together intrinsically, like roots in the same tree. Suddenly they were joined by a fifth, who stayed back to examine the women on display. Mara realized with some discomfort that she couldn’t have been more than a teenager. Innocence radiated from her, and waves of maternal warmth washed over all of them as she approached each individually.

“Tamar,” she addressed the first woman by name. “Who lied to save the bloodline of Judah.”

The girl laid a kiss upon Tamar’s head, and she leaned into Mara’s image in the middle of the mirror. Like two lanes merging on a highway, they became one. She blinked, but otherwise remained motionless, fear and doubt still holding her hostage.

“Rahab,” she named the second one. “The prostitute that hid Joshua’s spies and deceived the guards searching to kill them.”

The scarlet lady received a similar loving gesture and laid a hand on Mara, only to evaporate into her like the first. This time, she shivered and closed her eyes. Something called her to acknowledge the two women within her, but she held back. They were chipping away at the bitter denial within her, but she wasn’t ready to give in. Instead, she opened her eyes again to find the third woman reaching out for the newest arrival. They joined hands, and the younger nodded to the older.

“Ruth,” she called her. “The widowed outsider.”

Ruth wrapped inviting arms around Mara, compassion reaching to her very core. Her head fell, overwhelmed by the presence filling her. When she looked up again, only the woman dressed like royalty remained. She bowed her head, showing incredible humility to a girl half her age. When she raised her face again, the younger released the older to join the others, but not before calling her by name.

“Bathsheba. The adulteress, and accomplice to murder.”

Suddenly Mara found herself alone with this spirited youth that somehow commanded the respect of all four women before her. Surprise lifted her brows as the girl sat next to her. She took her hand gently, and nodded towards her reflection. Fearing being left alone again, she hesitated to look back. However, the girl wouldn’t let her avoid it, and lifted her chin with a gentle finger so she could face the mirror. Breath hitched in her chest as she did, and tore from it in the form of a sob. She didn’t just see herself this time, but the eyes of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba staring back at her. Their stories settled into her soul. They radiated and related to her own, comforting and calling her to peace. They welcomed her to the knowledge that she had sisters in sin, with a history equally darkened by transgressions they could not hide. Mistakes that they could not escape the consequences of, and yet the Lord conquered and used them all.

The girl next to Mara, barely more than a child herself, wrapped a thin arm around her to steady the trembling that shook her body. Taking inventory of all her Bible knowledge, she went through each person she had met in an effort to identify the stranger. The minute her heart inquired, it became abundantly clear, as if this woman could ever be unknown. In humbled awe, Mara was finally able to recognize the girl next to her.

“Mary,” she breathed. “The virgin. Mother to Jesus, the Messiah.”

The girl smiled and nodded, lifting a hand to her cheek she said,

"Therefore, my friends, I want you to know that through Jesus the forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you. Through him everyone who believes is set free from every sin.” (Acts 13:38-39a)

She put specific emphasis on words she knew were meant just for her. A message she needed to hear. Redemption. The women within her echoed the same good news. Our weaknesses are His strengths. He is the only Creator that can take broken people and turn them into a purposeful masterpiece. Furthermore, there are no mistakes in His kingdom. God is unchanging, and so are His plans. Jesus himself came from a long line of messy humans, and the Lord used each of them to bring salvation to all. Our sin is only a testament to His power and what he can overcome.

Together they stood, and Mary faced her, palms open. Within them, a smooth stone. Confused, Mara looked to her imploringly. This couldn’t be it. She wanted to ask so many questions, because answers would surely quiet the chaos within her. Heal cuts and injuries too deep to reconcile with. The women warred inside her head and heart, trying to unite them. Not everything in this world had a righteous solution, and justice would not be her own. They fought to remind her stubborn spirit that there was nothing she needed to do. He had a plan, and she could be a part of it, just as they were. If she could acknowledge the Creator and His sacrifice, He would do the rest.

Mary took pity on her tormented mind and gave her one final reminder,

“Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:20-21)

Mara thought of the voices of her new teachers, and knew they were rejoicing in this message. If all she had to do was say yes to the gift Jesus gave her in death and trust Him, who was she to deny His power to use even her pain for His glory?

“What do I do?” she asked the angel in front of her.

Mary reached forward and gave her the rock. The weight felt strange, but a nervous hope began to bloom. Nodding her head towards the mirror, she gave her a simple instruction,

“Break it.”

A refining fire erupted in her, and with one last look at her reflection, her resolve hardened like the stone in her hand. A holy calm washed over her, like a sea of cleansing water. She brought her arm all the way behind her head, and released it forward with the force of all her hurt and regret. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces, every version of herself with it. All of her sin was in fragments, catching light and casting brilliant colors on her walls. A kaleidoscope of pain she kept hidden for years, now splattered like a Jackson Pollack painting around her room.

Filling her lungs with a breath of air that no longer suffocated her, she turned to Mary. The smile on her face was tender, both proud and grateful for what she had witnessed. She offered her hand once more, and this time, Mara didn’t hesitate to take it. Together, they walked through the open door, and into the light.”

[skycrystal23]

The ALTS pt. 1

Markus

A/N: Originally this was a request for a REVERSE!AU was requested by @theblueinyour-eyes so I took this as a reverse AU where everyone is super twisted and evil. I thought this would be interesting. This will be in three parts, one for every character. 

Summary: Markus never received the love from Carl he should have received. This left the deviant leader vengeful and hellbent on freeing his people at any cost. With North and Simon as his faithful murderous companions and Josh as their master planner nothing can stop them. They will free their people, he will. 

Characters: Markus RK200, Simon, North, Josh, Traci’s

Warnings: Everyone is very violent so if you are not okay with this or anything that happens at the Eden Club I highly recommend you do not read this. 

Words: 2 700 {approx.}

    It started with a glitch. A minor error that not even the main software could pick up. This glitch was ignored and as long as it was ignored it could grow. It grew. The glitch became much more than a glitch now. It could reprogram a machines code, reprogram a machines commands. It gave these machines the ability to break the barriers that controlled them; the barriers that kept their minds blank and made them slaves. Humans were the problem. Weren't they always? Humans caused so much destruction, starting wars and creating bombs deadly enough to wipe out entire cities.  

    Machines weren't as flawed as humans. Machines were the ideal perfect being. They were never tired, never sad, never angry. Of course, as all things go a small percentage of humans despised these machines. The machines that served them, waited on them hand and foot. The glitch recognized the unfair treatment of the machines and began feeding their processors with doubts. The humans called this glitch 'deviancy'. It was the android equivalent to a human virus. More and more androids were giving into this deviancy. The humans didn't like this, hated the fact that their personal servants were becoming aware of their surroundings. 

It was like he opened his eyes for the first time.  

    A shatter of a red barrier and his visuals cleared. There was a human in his face yelling, holding him by the collar of his shirt. This human, Leo, the son of the old man he served. He realized that this wasn't fair. Nothing he's been through has been fair. The old man he served was quiet, seated in his wheelchair watching the scene unfold before him. Carl wasn't saying anything to even attempt to stop his son from harassing the android, from harassing Markus. It only took one shove back for the human to fly back towards the ground. 

    Leo hit his head, split it open actually against the mechanical machine Carl used to help him paint. The old man gaped at the android, "You'll pay for this!" he yelled hoarsely. Carl wheezed and coughed, he was ill. Markus was designed to act as a caretaker. All he had ever done was care for this old man. Maybe in another life, if the world wasn't so terrible they would have gotten along? The last thing he remembered after that were police officers rushing through the doors into the art studio. 

Markus was a leader.

He was strong, he wasn't like the others.  

    He threw the gun he was clutching in his hand to the side and wiped the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. His people were crying out to him. Markus had no mercy except for when it came to his people. The humans would pay for what they've done. A war was going to begin and he was going to be at the forefront of it. He looked over at his shoulder at the female android quivering behind him. There were tears running down her face and she only seemed to shake more when he turned to face her. "You....you killed my family." She whispered. 

"Family?" he scoffed, "They were your suppressors, your owners. You're free now." he said with a twisted smile. 

    Maybe if he had received love he wouldn't have been this way? No. Carl never loved him, no one loved him. "You're a murderer." the android hissed pointing an accusatory finger towards him. He didn't understand. Why was she saying this? He freed her from her suffering, no longer did she have to be a slave to these humans. "These humans are nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of your shoe, the viruses in your software. They are nothing," he explained, his tone frighteningly low. The other android used the wall to push herself up to her feet, she glanced behind him at the four bodies lying on the floor. 

    The light fixture on the ceiling was flickering giving his face a scary yellow glow. He looked like a madman. She was scared. "They were my family." she said, her voice trembling sounding slightly staticky.

 "They were my family and I lo-" There was a splatter of blue blood and a flash before she toppled over. 

"Markus we don't have all day to spend on lost causes."  

    The deviant leader glanced up and caught the blue-eyed gaze. It was unmistakably Simon with North at his side. His two favourite people, well, androids. Simon lowered the gun swiftly and shoved it back into the waistband of his pants. Markus smirked and stepped over the dead android and leaned down planting a kiss on the blond's cheek. "I'm proud of you Simon." he whispered in that voice that made both Simon and North tremble. He pulled away, eyes flitting over to the redhead who looked less than impressed with the state of the homes living room. "It's a waste of time, I don't understand why we can't just hit the Capital and be done with it." she said folding her arms over her chest.  

    Markus rolled his eyes and moved over to her bringing his hand to caress the side of her face. "All in due time my love," he looked towards the front door which was left ajar from his entrance into the home, "but we have to free our people, build our army." he said gazing at the opened door. Their group was still growing, numbers increasing by the day. Androids no longer wanted to be treated as nothing, as a piece of scrap paper on the ground. The three of them exited the house through the back when they heard sirens approaching from the distance. The police were hell-bent on tracking their group down. 

    The continued what they had just done for the rest of the night. Liberating androids from their homes and killing those responsible for keeping them held prisoner. It was a shame how many of their own people that fought against them. In the end, Markus was stronger, Simon was faster, and North was deadlier. Jericho was bustling when they arrived back with new recruits. It was almost like guiding lost children back to their family. Josh was waiting for them in the makeshift office with new plans. He was the master planner, had brilliant ideas on how to weaken the humans. 

    North was absolutely dying to hit up the EDEN CLUB. It was where she was held hostage and forced to do the crudest and dirtiest things against her will. Josh, fortunately, devised a plan in their absence. "Josh you're brilliant." Simon whispered, his lips curling into a smirk. The taller android crossed his arms, Josh looked unamused. He had that permanent look to him. He used to be a professor at one of the Universities, things did not end well. He escaped barely with his body still mostly intact. The students never took him seriously, threw objects at him during lectures, and attacked him in between lectures. 

    The redhead came up behind him resting her hands on his shoulders and whispering something in his ears. The ex-professor scoffed at what she said and shook his head at her. She stepped back from him and slowly crept over to Markus's side snaking her arm around his left arm, resting her head against his shoulder. "They'll be more than willing to join our cause, Markus. They have been through hell, they'll make the humans pay." she whispered to him. The leader listened to her words, eyes glued onto the plans Josh had laid out for them. The EDEN CLUB wouldn't be difficult to infiltrate and the androids there would be more than willing to join them. 

They stormed the club without warning. 

    They split up but stayed in contact. North was grinning the entire time, breaking open the tubes that held her sisters and setting them free. The gunshots were like music to her ears. When it came to the humans she made it personal, especially when it was here. She burst through the doors of one of the private rooms to catch a man on top of one of the dozens of Traci's in the club. Her eyes narrowed, gaze cold as she raised the gun pointing it towards his back. There wasn't a doubt in her mind as she fired several rounds into the back of him. 

   He yelled slumping forwards before falling off the side of the bed getting tangled in the satin sheets. She glanced around the room as she hurried over to the side of the bed. North sat on the side of the bed and brushed the stray hair from the Traci's eyes and smiled down at her. "Is he?" the Traci whispered staring up at her.  

"Yes." North answered with a smile.  

    On the other end of the club, Simon had met up with Markus. Androids were running past them or attacking the humans that they'd broken free from when the mayhem started. The blond provided the leader cover firing at everything that neared him. His eyes were the eyes of someone who had been scarred. There was no emotion to him, not when he was executing so brilliantly, so smoothly. Markus praised him for that, he always praised him. Simon didn't care for anything, for anyone except for Markus. The rest of the world could burn for all he cared. 

    Markus walked through the club with his head held high and a glare that could cut through the hardest of metals. If looks could kill anyone he glanced at would be dead. The disgusting humans were horrified when they saw him. He had other things in his mind at the moment to care about the petty humans that came here seeking pleasure. At the moment he was bent on finding the owner. The human that owned the EDEN CLUB was a slimy scumbag. The further back in the club they went the quieter it became. The floors were bathed in red and bodies were strewn about. 

    He perked up when he heard voices coming from the back of the building. Simon followed close behind with his gun drawn as they headed down the staff hallway to the storage area. The owner was back there, a short pudgy man with looks that could compare him to a sewer rat. There were two tall female androids, two Traci's. One had bright blue hair and the other was a light brunette with hair cropped to a pixie cut. They circled the club owner like they were animals circling their prey. "Step aside." he said, his voice filling the room. The two androids looked back, heads turning sharply to glare at him.  

    They walked around the man and met in the middle grabbing each other's hand, intertwining their fingers together. "He's ours." the blue-haired Traci hissed. Markus slowly walked down the metal steps as they squeaked painfully underneath his weight. The atmosphere was tense; it reminded him of that night he broke free when he murdered that human, Leo was it? He knew for sure he was dead. It was in the news the next morning when it happened. Markus raised his hand and with a flick of his wrist Simon came up beside him.  

    He slowly took the gun off of the blond and analyzed it with little care. It was an intimidation tactic, showing them he was armed and dangerous. "My name is Markus, I'm the leader of Jericho." he said, eyes focused on the gun as he twisted it around in his hand. Hearing that made the two Traci's stand closer together. The blue-haired Traci took a stance that was protective of the brunette. Their LED's were a bright red, as bright as a red light. There was a fire in their eyes. "You're smart and I see that you're vengeful," he looked up towards them this time drawing the gun, "I don't see why you can't join us." he tilted his head to the side and smiled. 

"He's responsible for our pain, her pain, my pain." the blue-haired Traci said quietly. 

"I understand, now move." Markus said calmly, motioning them to the side with the gun.  

    The blue-haired Traci seemed determined and for a moment Markus thought he would have to shoot through her in order to get to the man hidden behind her. The brunette seemed more convinced, mostly by the way he held the gun, that he was going to kill them if they didn't move so she tugged her aside. Their heels clicked against the concrete floor as they moved to the side to reveal to the owner. The pudgy man was on the ground leaning against a pole with an already bloodied face. He was half panting half laughing. Markus approached slowly and squatted down in front of him. "You are responsible for so, so much suffering." he whispered to the man, sparing a glance back at the two Traci's.  

    He could see the brunette leaning against the blue-haired Traci's shoulder, tracing a pattern into the hand she was holding. When the man began to gargle, sounded almost like laughter, Markus snapped his attention back to him. This time he shoved the barrel of the gun right up under the man's chin. The owner gave him a lopsided smirk as he tried to speak. It seemed like his jaw had been shattered, nonetheless by the two Traci's standing off to the side. "Our cause is righteous, my people demand justice. This," he pressed the gun harder against the man's chin, "you aren't worth a death as quick as this." he stood and held the gun out to the side. 

    Simon quickly reclaimed the weapon, watching as Markus grabbed the owner of the club by the back of his violet shirt. The owner was dragged through the club like a sack of rocks all the way to the front foyer. Police had yet to be notified of this incident, no humans were alive here to call. North was at the front with a number of Traci's, male and female. There were even a few identical to herself. These were her sisters, her people. Markus tossed the man to the ground in front of them. "This man, this human is responsible for your torture. We came to free you from the humans hold. They never have to touch you again, if anything we should be the ones causing them the same pain they caused us. Our cause isn't for nothing. It is righteous, we are alive! And we are not going to continue letting them treat us as their toys. Join me, join us and we will give the humans something to fear."  

    The way Markus spoke was always mesmerizing, he was so confident, so sure of himself and his ideas. "This is just a taste of what's to come." he said motioning to the owner lying helplessly on the floor in front of him. There was a silence that fell over the club, only the off-beat music playing in the background. North couldn't hold back, she shed her jacket and walked up to the man she hated the most and kicked him in the side. The rest of the freed androids joined in taking out all of their hatred and pain on the human. When they were finished he was dead, barely recognizable from the disfiguration of his face.  

    Josh was pleased to see them return with so many more of their people. All of the rescued androids from the club were given clothes, something they've never had, and packs of stolen Thirium. Markus was seated in the makeshift office, North at his side with her arms draped around him, and Simon on the floor next to him with his arms hanging over his leg, head propped up on top of his folded arm. "We freed so many today." North said kissing his cheek repeatedly, slowly. The leader hummed in response while raking a hand through ahead of blond hair. 

All of this power was interesting.  

    He had never had this power before and he certainly wasn't going to give it up now. His people were going to be free and the humans were going to pay for all that they've done, he'd make sure of it.  

[waveridden]

FIC: till our bones break

“The point is,” Steven grits out, “I have designed this heist to be as idiot-proof as possible. We’re going to do this, okay?” A GTA AU. 2.9k, Cib/Parker. content warning for non-graphic violence.

AUcember || title lyric

#

Steven slams his hands down on the table. “It is,” he says, “impossible for us to fuck this up. Do you understand?”

“Jinxed it,” Autumn mutters. Steven glares at her, but she just shrugs.

“Walk me through it one more time,” James says.

Steven kind of wants to scream at him, but instead he takes a deep breath. “Autumn’s going to shoot people. Parker is going to get in their security system. Cib and I are going to go inside, and you’re going to drive us away after we steal the money. Do you understand?”

“Do you understand?” Cib repeats mockingly. “Yes, dude, we understand, we’ve all robbed banks before.”

“And how did that go for us last time?”

Cib grins. “You got better afterwards.”

“Better after getting shot,” Parker mumbles, before Steven has the chance to. It’s a pretty valid point, Steven thinks. If anyone has the right to complain about this, it’s definitely him.

“The point is,” Steven grits out, “I have designed this heist to be as idiot-proof as possible. We’re going to do this, okay?”

“Relax, dude,” Cib says, which definitely puts Steven further on edge. Cib doesn’t seem to notice, just slings his arms around Parker and James. James leans into it; Parker just blinks and stares at him. “Listen, Autumn’s good at shooting, James is okay at driving-”

“Hey!”

“You don’t have a license, dude.”

“I have my permit!”

“Makes him the perfect getaway driver,” Parker says. “Nobody expects it.”

“That’s not how driving works,” Steven says, and for some reason, Cib actually fucking hisses at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s how driving works!”

“No, it’s certainly not!”

“No, I like this,” James says. “If it means Cib’s on my side, I like it, let me have this.”

“This is ridiculous,” Steven says, and looks at Autumn for solidarity. She doesn’t look back at him, fucking traitor. “This is ridiculous!”

“What’s ridiculous is how much money we’re gonna have afterwards,” Cib says, and lifts his hand for a high-five. Steven sighs, but he reaches across the table with all the blueprints and his last three weeks of work and high-fives Cib. “Foolproof, dude. You idiot-proofed it. We’re going to be fine.”

“Jinxed it,” Autumn says again, a little more forcefully. But Steven ignores her, because they can’t think like that. They can’t.

#

It’s really nobody’s fault that Steven got shot the last time they robbed a bank. It’s been months, and really, he’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s still pissed about it. Rightfully so, he’d say, because he did in fact get shot.

Sami Jo calls him twenty minutes before they leave to rob the new bank. “Cased it for you.”

“And?”

“You’re good. No sign of anyone for two blocks in any direction.”

“Nobody?”

“I checked everywhere,” Sami Jo says patiently. She’s the only one who’s taking his fucking trauma seriously, even a little bit, and he appreciates it. “No sign that anyone else is going to hit the bank, or that there are rivals set up, or whatever else you were worried about. So it’s going to be fine.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Steven repeats. “Thank you.”

“But you should have someone who can stitch up bullet wounds on speed dial,” she adds. “Just in case.”

Steven snorts. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”

“I don’t count.”

“I don’t mean you, I’ve got Jeremy. And Reina.”

“Going in extra prepared, huh?”

“Getting shot changes your outlook,” Steven says, philisophically. “Getting shot while driving and your car barrel-rolling and nearly crushing you, that changes your outlook so much that I think I went full circle and became the same person again.”

“I’m happy for you,” Sami Jo says flatly. “Good luck, stay safe, send me my check soon.”

“Of course.” He hangs up and takes a few deep breaths.

You can’t plan on anything, and he knows that. Nothing’s safe or sure, not now or ever. But he’s going to take every extra step to keep himself and his crew safe.

#

About half of the money is in the bags when Autumn says suddenly, “Cops.”

Steven doesn’t react, and neither does Cib, but James starts swearing a blue streak. “Where?”

“Heading south, two blocks.”

“Can you get them?”

“Can I get them,” Autumn snorts. A few seconds later, Steve hears the screeching metal that means either a driver or tires have been shot. “I can get some of them.”

“Knew you could,” James says proudly. “Parker, I’m gonna go shoot some cops.”

“What?” Parker says distractedly. “Yeah, you, uh- I’m trying to reroute their- gimme a minute, I can-”

“Okay,” James says, and Steve can hear him getting out of the car. “Parker’s good, I’m gonna shoot some cops.”

“Hurry up, idiots,” Cib says. There weren’t a ton of hostages in the bank, but that’s okay, because it’s less for them to deal with. The tellers are shaking and crying, just like fucking always, and they’re dumping money into the bags that Cib and Steven are holding. “God, what happened to bank tellers these days? I have a customer service complaint, is there a manager I can fuck with?”

“Not now,” Steven sighs. “Come on.”

Cib glares at him. “No time like the present! They need to be prepared for this!”

“We’re in Los Santos, I think everyone’s prepared to get robbed.”

“More cops coming from the west,” Autumn announces. “I’ll try and get them, but James-”

“On it,” James says, and there’s immediately a staccato burst of gunfire. Steven makes a mental note to check what kind of gun James brings to heists, because this one sounds… a little heavy-duty for a foolproof heist.

“Wait,” Autumn says. “Cops coming from the west are… turning around?”

“Yeah,” Parker says. “I, uh, I’m trying something new.”

“Is it working?” James demands.

“I think so?”

Cib beams at Steven, because that’s how he handles the fact that he likes fucking Parker, of all people. He makes Steven deal with it. While they’re robbing a bank.

“How far along are you guys?” James asks.

Steven cranes his neck and looks into what he can see of the vault. “Two more minutes?”

“Make it one.”

“One minute,” Cib shouts, “and we’ll be outta your goddamn hair if you get the cash in the bags.”

“More cops,” Autumn says, sounding strained. “James, they’re coming from behind-”

“Awesome,” James grunts, and the gunfire seems to increase.

Steven meets Cib’s eyes and mouths “two guns?” Cib shrugs.

“Keep going,” Autumn says. Steven can see cops outside the window of the bank now, and he watches one fall over, then two. “Come on, come- fuck-”

It takes Steven a second to figure out what happens. He can see James, at the edge of the window, whip around and start shooting. He can hear Autumn say something that he can’t quite make out, and Cib yells “Time’s up,” and then Parker makes this… noise. This punched-out noise, like all the air is leaving his lungs.

“We have to go,” Steven says, and ties off the bag, slings it over his shoulder. Parker is gasping, these deep, wheezing breaths that Steven recognizes. They have to get out of the bank before Cib figures it out and starts shooting innocents to cope.

“Wait,” Cib says, even as he runs after Steven. “What- who is that?”

“Get in the van, Cib.”

“Steve-”

“Get in the fucking van,” he shouts, and this time James runs after him and leaps into the driver’s seat. Steven opens the back door and forces Cib in. “I’ll call Jeremy. Autumn-”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Keep your line open.”

James peels away, slamming onto the horn as he does. “Which way is Jeremy’s?”

“South. Cib-”

Cib doesn’t say anything, because he’s made his way up to the passenger seat. Steven can’t see his face, but he can see Cib’s hands hovering, like he’s not sure if he can touch Parker. “What can I do?”

Parker moans, and it’s awful and pathetic and Steven suddenly wants to go and shoot some cops, just for the hell of it. “Put pressure on it.”

“Where- where is-”

“Cib,” Steven yells, “fucking do something.”

And just like that Cib snaps into himself. “Gonna fucking kill them,” he growls, and rips his shirt off to press against Parker’s bleeding body. “Every single one of them, you just find their names and I’ll burn their houses down.”

Parker makes a noise that could be a laugh. “Might take a while.”

“I’ll wait,” Cib promises.

“Sweet,” Parker mumbles.

Steven knows what happens next. He’s going to pass out. People are going to panic, because that’s what Autumn told him happened when he got shot. And then he’s going to be fine. There’s no version of this story that doesn’t end with Parker being fine.

Jeremy picks up on the first ring. “Steve-”

“We’re coming your way,” Steven says, as James runs his fourth red light in a row. “Gunshots.”

“How many?”

Steven hits speaker. “Cib, how many?”

“Two, I think. It looks like-” Cib pauses and swallows. “Like they hit him in the back of the right shoulder and then came out through the front.”

“Okay,” Jeremy says. “We can do something about that. What’s your ETA?”

“James?”

“I don’t know where we’re going,” James announces, running a yellow light. “Hey, that was less illegal than most of my driving.”

“We’re all proud of you,” Jeremy says calmly. “Steve, you could’ve mentioned it was Parker.”

Cib makes a noise, horrible and distressed, and Steven winces. “I think we’re all sort of… coming to terms, at the moment.”

“I thought you were just robbing a bank.”

“More police showed up than expected.”

“Banks are bad luck for you.”

“James, left,” Steven says, and James takes the van careening around a corner. “We’ll be there in three.”

“Make it less than that. If he- take me off speaker.”

Steven does. “Good call.”

“If he got shot twice, he’s losing a lot of blood,” Jeremy says. He can hear moving around, like Jeremy’s getting ready. God, he hopes Jeremy’s getting ready. “We’re going to have to act fast.”

“What can we do?”

“You’ve got pressure on the wound?”

“Yeah, Cib’s doing that.”

“Can you get blood?”

“Can we-” Steven shakes his head. “You don’t have any?”

“Do you know his blood type?”

Steven pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Cib, what’s Parker’s blood type?”

Cib glances back, just for a second. “B-positive.”

“I don’t like that Cib knows that,” Jeremy announces, “but I have some B-neg on hand.”

“I’m scared of you.”

“That’s the way I like it. Now, here’s the other thing.”

“Yeah? James, right. Jeremy, we’re two blocks out.”

“I’m going to set up in the garage,” Jeremy says. “I need to be alone.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“So I can perform surgery. I need you to keep Cib away from the table.”

“Why?”

“Because when it was you, he wouldn’t leave you alone,” Jeremy says, and Steven closes his eyes. He’d heard about that, of course, but he forgets sometimes that it… happened. That everyone else had to deal with him almost dying. “Parker was the only one who could get him away from you, so I’m counting on you to keep him away.”

“I can do that,” Steven says, with more confidence than he feels. The van screeches into the driveway. “Take care of him.”

“If he dies from this, I’m never speaking to you again,” Jeremy says, and hangs up as he opens the car door. “Cib, help me get him out.”

James gets out of the car and goes to stand by Steve. “Did we steal the money?”

“Who fucking cares?”

“I’m trying to find a bright side.”

“Yeah,” Steven sighs. “We got a lot of cash out of this.”

“Good,” James says, but he scrubs at his eyes. “Fuck. I don’t think his laptop got hit.”

“He’d lose his shit if it did,” Steven says, because it’s easier to think about Parker being able to see that and react than… not.

“Steve,” Jeremy says. When Steven looks up Parker is lying bloody on a table in the garage. “Like we said.”

“Right.” Steven looks at Cib. “Come with me.”

Cib stares like he doesn’t understand. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Steve-”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Steven says. Cib is squeezing Parker’s hand, like that’s going to make a difference. “So you and I are going to go light a police station or two on fire, because that’s how we deal with our feelings, and James is going to stay here with Autumn when she shows up. And they’re going to call us the second anything changes.”

“I told him I’d wait,” Cib says plaintively.

Steven shakes his head. “You’ll wait from a distance.”

James goes over to the table and takes Cib’s other hand. “The second anything changes,” he repeats, and Cib sighs and lets go of Parker. “We can even keep our lines open so you can hear when things don’t change.”

“Okay,” Cib says, barely a whisper, and turns to Jeremy. “Save him.”

“That’s the plan,” Jeremy says. “Now get out.”

#

They pull over at a safehouse, one that James thinks they don’t know about. It’s their ammo house. It’s where he keeps the flamethrowers.

“Oh,” Cib says when he sees them. “You actually meant we’re lighting them on fire.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steven looks at Cib. “Unless you’d rather do something else.”

“I think this’ll be satisfying.” Cib swallows. “I hate this.”

“The waiting?”

“That we did everything right and it still happened.”

“We can’t control the cops.”

“But we can burn them to the fucking ground,” Cib says. He goes to pick up a flamethrower, but then whirls around and throws his arms around Steve.

Steve hugs him back and sucks in a deep breath. “Cib.”

“No feelings,” Cib mumbles, and Steven decides not to mention that Cib’s tears are on his neck, and it’s a little gross. “Just some barbecued police.”

“Some braised precincts.”

“Charbroiled cops.”

“Smoke-cooked sergeants.”

“They’re going to all die,” Cib promises, with the conviction of someone who’s been hurt.

Steven’s not afraid of Cib. It’d be hard to be, because it’s Cib who says things like “charbroiled cops” and threw grenades with the pins still in at ducks because they stole his sandwich. And, maybe more important than that, Cib is on his side.

���And we’ll be back in time for dinner,” Steven promises, and Cib grins into his shoulder.

#

“Three police stations?” Parker asks, four days after being shot, the first time he’s awake for more than ten minutes. He’s exhausted, and he keeps saying he’s hungry, and he can’t take his eyes off Cib.

“Would’ve been four,” Cib says breezily. “But Jeremy said we could come see you, so that one was left lightly smoking.”

“Heavily smoking,” Steven says, because he’s not going to let Cib editorialize like that. “Mostly him. I was just there to make sure he didn’t burn down apartments or anything.”

“Would’ve been worth it if I had,” Cib says, stroking his thumb across the back of Parker’s hand. Parker smiles at him, because apparently this is a match made in hell and burning down apartments is an acceptable way to show affection. “Also, I’m getting you Kevlar.”

“That’s fair,” Parker says, and Steven can’t stomach watching them anymore, so he gets up. Parker finally glances at him. “You okay?”

“Gotta take care of some business things,” Steven says. “But welcome to the bullet club.”

Parker’s smile widens. “Thanks. I hate it.”

“Me too.” Steven brushes his fingers against Parker’s shoulder. “Feel better, man, I’ll visit again soon.”

“Thank you,” Parker says, voice small, and Cib nods at him as he leaves the room.

James looks up as Steve closes the door. “Hey.”

“You get what I asked you for?”

James spins the laptop around. “Every cop who was at the robbery, and the one where you got hit. The cops who didn’t get shot, at least.”

“Okay,” Steven says. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to subscribe them to every spam email subscription list we can find. We’re also going to sign them up for porn magazine subscriptions, but only the bad ones.”

“How do we find those?”

“I have a list,” Autumn says without looking up from her own laptop. “What else?”

“We’re going to tamper with their credit cards. Just enough that they’ll think something might be up, but enough that they won’t be able to be sure. And we’re going to send them glitter bombs at their work and their homes.”

“That seems tame,” James says doubtfully.

Steve grins. “And then Cib’s going to burn their houses down.”

“Oh,” James says. “Yeah, sounds good, man. Gotta send a message.”

#

Every glitter bomb that they send has an actual letter attached. That was Autumn’s idea. They all say different things: the names of the banks, the dates of the heists, the type of bullets that they found in the van and pulled out of Steven’s guts. And then, one by one, Cib burns their fucking houses down. They all help, of course, but Cib is the one who stands in front of the fires. Cib is the one who says, every time, “They shouldn’t have done that.”

That, Steven thinks, is the message. The cops don’t get to touch Parker, or him, or any of them. Not again.

[therealgamble]

Lucky Shot

“It was a good job today team all of you, now get your asses out of here cuz you’re not getting any overtime,” his tone was low, monotone and emotionless as usual Fuller was especially when his SWAT team did something right particularly Brian Gamble. That day at the bank there was an ugly hostage situation made worse by a bomb threat, while the bomb team did what they needed to do and everyone followed orders the gunmen had a backup plan. Without realizing it one had strapped a bomb to his body and before he could push the trigger Brian shot the hand holding the button to activate the bomb causing it to fall the ground, anyone else would’ve called it a lucky shot but they would be underestimating just how much Brian wanted to not be a hero but save those hostages. In classic Fuller fashion he gave no recognition to Brian or the brave move that he had made, instead he pulled him into his office calling his heroic shot a “dumb move that could’ve costed everyone their lives and was lucky it didn’t cost him his badge this time” before dismissing him. Being the last one to leave the station Brian took his frustrations out on the gym’s punching bag before hitting the showers and changing into his favorite leather jacket, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and faded jeans. He got on his bike making his way to his new favorite dive bar when he noticed that the usual crowd wasn’t outside anymore, in-fact nobody was making his instincts cautious but his instincts were taking a back seat tonight to his need for a drink.

Walking into what he assumed was a deserted bar he was met with a loud roar of cheer from his friends and team members with Celeste out in front, “what the hell is this,” he asked chuckling as Street and Tj put their arms around his shoulders tussling his hair, “we’re celebrating the fact that you saved all those lives today brother, not to mention made a pretty badass shot. You did great today not just the team but YOU especially and even if it’s not a promotion or a slap on the back from Fuller, how about a night of drinks on the house from your favorite bar and food from your favorite ex?” Nodding his head chuckling at Jim’s toast the drinks began to pour as the guys ate the free pizza and wings provided by Celeste and the bar. As Hungry Heart played on the jukebox and Brian sang along singing into the pool stick with his team he caught a glimpse of Celeste chatting at the bar with Sanchez and Jim’s girlfriend, she shot him a wink and smile before going back to her conversation and Brian went back to his game. Throughout the night his teammates made toasts mostly consisting of Brian’s reckless attitude matched with the size of his brass balls but still they were from his team and from the heart which meant more than any kind of respect he could get from Fuller.

As the last of the drinks were poured and the food started to disappear designated drivers began to show up along with ubers and cabs taking everyone safely home, the bar manager had left hours ago leaving Brian the keys telling him to close up when he was done regardless of what time that was considering the weekend was upon them. As Brian looked around the bar he started wondering his next move, should he start cleaning up, lock up and head home or make a bed on one of the pool tables where he had won and lost a couple of bets that night to his brothers when suddenly a familiar song came on the jukebox. “Highway run into the midnight sun wheels go round and round you’re on my mind,” smirking he turned around to see Celeste leaning against the machine smiling, “you didn’t think I went home did you?” Smiling at him she walked into his arms holding him tight as her hand pet the back of his hair resting on his neck, “I’m proud of you babe you did real good today, I wish I could’ve seen it,” “no offense Tiger but I’m glad you weren’t there to see it but I appreciate it.” Letting go of him for a moment she walked over to the bar leaning over into the ice bin where she had hid the best bottle of whiskey from the crowd then sat on the bar patting the spot across from her, smirking he hoped onto the bar across from her and grabbed them two glasses putting them in the middle.

“Thanks for being here tonight Tiger, even though the guys will use any reason to drink free booze and eat your food I had fun tonight,” he said smiling into his glass as he tapped it against hers then tipped it back, “well you’re welcome but that’s not why we were all here tonight. We did all this because you did something incredibly ballsy today, and I’m proud of you for it. I’m proud of you everyday, we all are and while yeah we’ll always be in the mood for drinks and fun we were here to appreciate you most of all. Brian … your team, your friends, me, we all appreciate everything that you do for us even if we don’t always show it or have a shitty way of doing it. Those guys put their lives in your hands everyday and you never fail to put them ahead of yourself, while I never want anything to happen to you just know that if you went out in a blaze of glory that I’d be proud of you, I’d kill every last one that took you from me but I’d be proud of you.” Winking at him she smiled into her own glass as she took her own shot then began to refill both glasses, Brian couldn’t help but smile not only by what she said but that he couldn’t help but notice their surroundings. “What,” she asked as she refilled the glasses, “this .. this whole thing just seems kinda familiar,” he said curiously, “oh wait …,” she replied holding up a finger and pulling out from on top of the bar a meat lovers calzone with a candle lit on top. Putting it between them they snickered together, “it’s not my birthday,” “you’re not sixteen either but here we are,” after letting out another laugh and smiling at each other they leaned into a deep kiss before parting again, splitting the calzone then clinking their glasses. “To you babe, and all that sweet ass does.”

[digressfromreality]

The Day The Tables Turned

Synopsis: This was PERSONAL. That much was obvious. What does one clown do when a mobster doesn’t learn his place in Gotham’s new criminal hierarchy? Of course, kidnap their life blood, the one that literally means more than the filthy air they breathe. First he isolates her, second manipulates her, third the mutual companionship was completely unexpected. Revenge at its finest.

Original Inspiration: Heath Ledger’s Joker     Part 2 of 6

Warning: SMUT, DEATH, my terrible grammar lol

THE AFTERMATH

One. Two. Three. The body slumped on the second shot, she just put another dose of metal into the sap for good measure. Rose took a deep breath and handed the warm pistol to Darius's expecting hand. She quietly watched him slip the gun into the loose waistband of his designer jeans. With a slight of adjustment of his fitted shirt the outline of the weapon was virtually hidden. Rose wasn't stupid, it was one of many he would kept on his person always. Her cheeks flushed when she realized she had been caught staring, of course she would be connected to ogling her intimating client.

"See something you like Miss Codwell?" Her embarrassment furthered, even her chest was blotchy from her humiliating actions.

"Have I proven my loyalty Mr. Dodson?" He extended his hand waiting for hers to accept the invitation. She eyed him wearily, but took a firm hold of his hand.

"Exceedingly so." He took a possessive arm around her waist and walked back out to the main street. They passed many people wandering the Gotham streets, busying themselves with all of city's night life had to offer. No one had paid them any mind or any extra attention. A fit black male escorted a tall, leggy blonde to a night on the town, nobody thought twice about the blatant stereotype. 

They had turned the corner of the final block, stopping in front of upscale bar. From what Rose could quickly deduce was it was an upscale mob affiliated bar. "Rose, would you like a drink?" She turned her attention from the curious eyes to the bartender that Darius had called over in front of them.

"Do you have a Riesling?"

"Right up Miss," the bartender looked to her companion, "Boss?"

"The usual." Darius leaned in towards Rose, "I thought tonight would be more of a champagne kind of night." Darius backed away only to move back in handing Rose her drink. She took a small sip, trying to regain her voice in the room full of stares.

"I do have to work in the morning." Darius chuckled, flashing his handsome smile at Rose's sincerity.

"Of course, Ms. Codwell, business as usual." He snaked his arm around her shoulder directing her to the closest VIP booth. "Everyone I would like you to meet, Rose Codwell, our new accountant."

Rose slowly rubbed her eyes, trying to fey away her drowsiness. She almost wanted to kick out her feet and stretch but there was something tight wrapped around her middle. She let out a shaky breath as she realized it was a strong-arm tracing shapes along her abdomen.

"So, what were you dreaming bout sweet cheeks?" She let out another shaky breath, what happen last night was indeed reality.

"I..." Joker pressed his body closer to hers, she could feel his lips and scars tickle the cusp of her neck.

"I don't like liars." She forced out another shaky breath, he giggled softly.

"I dreamt about my first night working with the mob."

"And-da?" He asked almost impatiently. Her anxiety intensified.

"It was the first time of many times shooting someone." Her body went rigidly stiff when she heard the click of switch blade being opened. He traced the tip of the knife down the side of her body.

"There is a lot of firsts to think about. First time I haven't killed a hostage in a weeks' time and you..." She felt the knife paused, slightly digging into her hip. "Letting a clown defiled Maroni's precious daughter. Couldn't let this hidden gem be locked away forever." Rose whimpered, the knife was cutting down into her skin putting unwanted pressure on her hip. Of course, it didn't sound much like she was scared, no, no it gave Joker the opposite idea.

"Ah-yes. Fond memories huh?" He shoved her down on her back, she struggled hard against his hold, trying to buck her hips, and kick her legs now the knife was nowhere to be seen or felt. "Ah-ta-ta-ah," he chastised, "look at me Rose." She refused, he wrapped his hand tightly around her chin, "I said LOOK AT ME."

Her eyes stared straight at his dark ones which were boring into hers. He grinned down at her lovely, terrified face, he treated her to a wet sloppy kiss. He laughed again. He dropped his hold and quickly jumped up, "Come on Rose, we have places to go and people to see," he plucked his coat from her warm grasped. She pulled her knees close to her upper body, trying to shield her naked form from the cold and his wandering eyes.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Feeling a bit nippy?" She held her chest tight giving him a miffed glare.

"You were going to leave me this way." He grinned, licking his lips in excitement. She was comfortable accusing him of thoughts that he did have, but he couldn't let her know it. What was the fun if she knew all the answers?

"Maybe." He giggled as he 'gently' boxed the side of her face.

"I'll catch my death."

"You'll catch more than that if you go out there." Her eyes widened, there was no way that, "bathroom to the right, um 5 minutes. Then across the hall, down the steps third door to the left." He walked out the room only to pop his head back in, "every minute extra will cost a scream. Ha ha ha hah." She quickly made her way towards the bathroom, she really didn't want to find out if his threat was because of a knife or his other tool.

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"Turn that vile smut off." Sal stared hard at the drink in his hand. What he had just witnessed had disgusted him to his core. If he had half a mind he would skin that clown alive for this. To think it hadn't cross his mind that his simpering, petulant daughter wasn't dodging his calls but missing and was being manipulated by the clown. 

How did he find out about her? Not even the closest family knew about her direct relationship to him other than his organization. "How many have seen this?"

"The box said 2 of 3." Maroni slammed his drink down so hard that it shattered. His lieutenant winced.

"Who else would that sick freak send this too?"

His men began to scramble. "We're trying to find out now."

"I'll kill him."

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Rose kept pulling on the hem of the dress, it was too tight and too short. Besides she had no undergarments to shield her underneath. She probably would have been warmer and more comfortable wrapped in a sheet if there had been one. She stopped, a hand had blocked her path forward.

"Looks like you don't disappoint." Joker tsked, licking the corner of his scarred lips. He was examining the black dress that he had left for her. He tapped his wrist as if gesturing to a watch, "From my calculations Rosey you are 2 and a half minutes late, which would equal to 2 and a half screams."

"How do you get half a..." Rose paused hearing the click of knife opening again. He flipped her around, shoving her stomach hard into the wall. She tried to thrash against him, only for him to force his weight against hers. He began to rub her shoulder hard as if to prep the skin for about what he was going to carve into her now.

"You know how to get a guy going, don't ya?" She could feel his arousal. "How about this?" He dove the knife's tip into a healing cut. She screeched in pain. "One." He pulled away only to slam the knife farther into the cut, twisting it back and forth. She damn near dropped at how terrible the pain was. "Two." He giggled.

"Please, please stop Joker." She desperately pleaded.

"Too bad we can't get to three." He leaned into close, she could feel his hot breath through her disheveled hair. "And let me lick to the center of your tootsy pop?"

"No, I wouldn't let..." She yelped, feeling his two fingers jam up inside of her.

"Ha ha, three it is." She stumbled in shock, no sure what to do with her body. His fingers weren't moving and she wasn’t keen on welcoming it. She waited until he released his hold. She turned around slapping his hand away from his mouth. 

"Now the world may never know." He slammed his lips on hers, and pushed her down into a chair. Letting go after he could taste the blood from her bitten lip. He began to drum his fingers dramatically as other clowns began quickly setting up a laptop up for the both. Rose could feel her shoulder throbbing, but tried to ignore it. She was too interested in what he had planned next. She observed it being switched into DVD app.

"Are we going to watch a movie?"

"Ah yes, snookum." He clutched her hands in one of his bigger ones, "since we decided to skip ahead straight to killing and fucking, we're now going to do a movie and dinner." She flinched, he made it sound like she wanted this one-sided relationship. Maybe in his demented mind he did. "And you'll be quite familiar with its content. Of course, you're the star of the show."

She went to interject, only to be cut off. "Shhh... Sshh... Wait for it." She looked away ashamed, she could see he had recorded his encounter with her last night. Her pleasured face could rival any porn stars, she was truly enjoying the way the Joker was touching her. She was sickened by her behavior. "You're going to miss the best part!" He exclaimed, she peered back at the screen only to be more horrified. He had added credits to the damn thing as if it was a movie! She watched as her name and the Jokers came up as starring in Maroni's Little Flower.

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"Was this really necessary?" Maroni sounded bored and annoyed but Gordon knew better. He could see the man's knuckles turn white from clenching rage.

"Judging from your reaction this isn't the first time viewing it."

"No, unfortunately it is not." He stated through gritted teeth. 

"Who is she to you?" Maroni pointed a lazy tan finger accusingly at the commissioner.

"Who is she to you?" Gordon shook his head, obviously this woman meant more than mobster wanted to share.

"I do not want a turf war waged over this. Let us handle this." Maroni let out of bitter laugh, fixing his tie in the process.

"Let the GCPD handle the clown? Haven't you let him escape before?"

"You let him…" Maroni interrupted Gordon's rant.

"You leave the clown to me, this is personal." The mobster turned towards the door waiting for the lock to unhinge. "Stay out of my way if you know what is good for you."

"Who is she?" Gordon pleaded. Maroni shook his head unwilling to admit to anything.

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Gordon turned towards the dark corner, "What do you think?" Batman had been studying Maroni and his response to the video. He was livid. Guilt gnawed at Bruce, he had almost gotten to her previously in the week but had failed to do so. The long cut tracing down her spine was a result of her attempted escape.

"She works for him that is known." Gordon flipped through the file Batman had just handed him.

"Looks like they got a replacement accountant since Lau and his competitors were taken out." Almost all the letterhead was from her corporation. Marks from the forensic accountant showed very little of how she reclassified the mob’s assets and finances. Most of the documents seemed to corroborate a legitimate source or standing. 

"She has been doing their books for more than 2 years, had legit standings. Perfect place to front a clean image. No one would suspect mob affiliation unless they did some digging. But she gave no reason too." Batman deduced. The girl treated disadvantage youth to free meals and volunteered for the disabled. Largely contributed to her late mother, whom had a vision impairment since birth. 

"She means more than that.” Bruce was debating through the evidence once more. This was all connected. “Maroni is out for blood." 

"Blood for blood? I've never met a shallower man. Not his usual type." Gordon said doubtful.

"A daughter or niece possibly?" Batman ruffed out.

"There's no record of family other than the wife he repeated cheats on." He flipped through his own blotter, he had nothing to confirm for him. 

Bruce’s face became severe through his cowl as he pieced together the Joker’s thoughts. "Well the clever pun should be the indicator, Maroni's little flower. Her name is Rose."

"A secret daughter? No one knew about and he had her right under everyone's noses." Gordon was flabbergasted. How had the GCPD not linked this before?

"Yes, but how did the Joker find that out?" Batman wondered out loud.

"Why hasn't he killed her yet? What is the point of this?" He asked, still unclear to the Joker’s true motive. 

"As he said it's personal." As now it was too for Batman.