#gotta put this in wallpaper engine

[pybun]

"In a storm of boundless spirits...he's first on the scene"

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.6

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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The inside of the embassy looked much like the outside let assume.

Fancy furniture with tasteful vases and decoration, wallpaper-covered walls and paintings hanging on them. A big mirror placed across from the entrance hall caught their attention, seeing themselves in it when entering. Their eyes lingered on their reflection a little longer. They looked like actually belonging there along with the other guests.

Taehyung gently guided her to the direction string music was heard from, following the other attendees inside. As they entered the ball room, she let the blazer fall from her shoulders, returning it to him.

"So, what's the plan?" Cassandra whispered, eyeing everyone around them eagerly as he put it back on. "Eavesdropping on a diplomat? Observing the guests? Keeping track of the security? I counted five guards nearby so far."

He chuckled at how serious she was taking her role, flattening the collar of his shirt. "First, I have to meet the guys. They sneaked in my gun, so I gotta get it from them."

Right, made sense. He couldn't have sneaked it in with the metal detector at the entrance.

"Oh okay, and what am -"

"You'll take your seat at our designated table and wait, okay?" Before she could even revolt, Taehyung tapped his in-ear and pivoted towards the back of the room only to disappear in the sea of well-dressed people.

Cassandra huffed, taking a handful of tulle into her fists before trotting to the direction of the tables at the side. The invitation said she'd be at table 16 and soon she spotted the card with the number. And the place card with her fake name on it.

Ms Cassandra Vasques. A fake research scientist in the medical field.

At least the field of profession wasn't so far off. Probably chosen on purpose by Jimin to minimize the potential of her blowing her cover. A medical researcher was easier than pretending being an international lawyer or engineer.

With disappointment spreading inside her, she took a seat and propped her chin into her palm. As if her insecurities hadn't been enough, now she was left to sit there alone like a loser. Besides, she could swear the old lady in her dark blue dress sitting at the table next to hers was scrunching her nose at her. Great.

Cassandra's arms instinctively folded in front of her in an attempt to cover the décoleté, although she could spot some other ladies with similar deep necklines or daring side-cuts while still managing looking classy.

She dragged a breath when sensing someone approaching her. A waiter from the look of his red vest and the silver tablet he was holding.

"May I take your order?"

"Red wine and.. and any cocktail you have with blue curacao, please." The waiter rose a mildly startled brow but only gave her a bow before leaving again.

If she had to go through this night feeling like a fool she might at least enjoy herself with a cocktail. She rarely got to drink any, so might as well tonight.

The drinks arrived soon and she immediately took a few sips of the deep light blue drink. Contently wiggling her shoulders when tasting the sweet-sour taste.

Unsure if much time passed or she simply drank too quickly, something she tended to unfortunately despite a cocktail's high alcohol percentage, her drink had eventually reached the lower half of the glass.

She felt a light buzz taking over, her mind beginning to float lightly and a sheepish smile plastered over her lips as she observed the people dancing to the string quartet's music in the dimly lit ballroom. Making her head sway to its rhythm, mimicking their movements.

She wasn't drunk, nor really tipsy. She had only begun to loosen up a little when she decided to take another sip before checking her make-up, just in case. The small pocket mirror in her purse coming in handy, she noticed that of course some of the the brownish-red lipstick had faded by now and she attempted to fix it with the lipstick she'd bought, when the reflexion of something black appeared behind her. Her eyes narrowed and in a mindless move, she turned her head and let the lipstick disappear back inside the purse.

Taehyung was standing behind her, having returned and now glancing down at her with a soft grin on his face. His hand stretched out towards her.

She looked at it suspiciously, making him laugh under his breath.

"May I have this dance?"

Cassandra shrugged, not try hiding she was sulky of him abandoning her among strangers. All her social awkwardness she thought she'd left behind in university, resurfacing after all in an unknown environment.

"Sure, but I have no clue how to dance."

Taehyung noticed her sullen mood but decided not to go into it and instead make up for his, admittedly, unpolite behaviour.

"You're lucky I don't mind you stepping on my feet."

Somehow this along with his boyish naive smile managed coaxing out a small laugh from her after all and her expression softened. Usually she wasn't so fast in giving in, but he made it easy.

Eventually, she placed her hand in his bigger one and let his fingers close around it and Taehyung gently pulled her up from her seat. Leading her through the crowd, until they reached the centre of the dancefloor. A clear vision of the band playing on the stage. Along with a clear sight on the French embassandor. Cassandra looked behind her to see what he was looking at and recognised the man. She hadn't attended totally unprepared after all, having looked up photos of him and his wife online, remembering Taehyung's task - which naively enough also in some way felt like hers, too - to keep an eye on the embassandor and warn the others if he attempted to leave and go upstairs.

Another couple bumped into her, not paying attention while dancing and she redirected her focus on Taehyung. He held her hand firmly, his other arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Pulling her closer in the narrow space, to prevent her from bumping into another person. And Cassandra swallowed at the almost non-existent gap between their chests.

"You have something.. there." He gestured to the corner of his lips and she frowned for a moment before realising she must've smudged the lipstick when seeing him behind her. And she cursed under her breath because of course, her clumsiness just never gave her a break.

"Wait, I -" She attempted to let go and get her purse but his thumb was already wiping off the faint smudge and she paused startled. Her eyes blinking rapidly. "T-thanks."

He nodded, his hand going back to holding hers as they began to move among the others.

"I really don't know how to dance, I wasn't joking," she mumbled embarrassed as she felt her feet almost tripping with every move, glancing up at him with an apologetical smile. He only breathed out a chuckle and she felt her skin tingling where his hands were laying on her. 

"Just follow the rhythm." His mellow voice almost drowning in the soft melody around them.

It was so strange. Like a fever-dream. Swaying with him among strangers who were most likely by far more important and wealthy than her. She felt like Cinderella. A poor maid in disguise at the king's ball, dancing with prince charming himself.

And as they kept moving, her body following his eloquent moves, she felt the tingle develop into a burning, spreading on every inch of her skin like wildfire. And she wasn't sure if it was the liquor, opening her blood vessels on its surface, or the warmth of his touch that caused it.

There had always been an attraction simmering under the surface for Taehyung, she couldn't deny that. It'd been there four years ago when she'd first met him and it'd still been there over a year ago when meeting him again.

However, Cassandra had never dared to see him as more than a friend before, knowing it would've been pointless with their vastly different lives.

But moving along his lead under the sparkling lights of the dimlit room in such close proximity along with the palm of his hand leaving her waist to lay flat right at the ribbon on her lower back, made her feel deezy.

Right now, her mind had completely shut down and all she could hear was her beating heart putting her skin on fire and all she could see was his dark irises, getting lost in their depth - along with that damn lonely curl on his forehead.

She was an internist. She knew the neuro-biology behind attraction, inflatuation, sex and even the feeling of love.

Neurotransmitters, hormones, endorphines.

At the end, it all came down to serotonine, dopamine, β-endorphine and noradrenaline.

She also knew, however, that this cocktail of messengers alone would only cause a feeling of happiness, lust and content, no deeper feelings. It was humans themselves putting meanings into them. And right now, Taehyung was causing her neurological system to have a complete meltdown.

His hand slid off from her lower back then and he stepped back, making her spin before stepping in and catching her again. And she held her breath for a moment before giggling, seeing an equal amused glint in his eyes. His hand finding her waist again. "Would've never guessed you'd be such a good dancer," she teased. Her natural response to distract from her flustered face.

He shrugged non-chalantly, spinning her again. Her giggles making him smile while he glanced above people's heads. Spotting the embassandor talking with other guests next to a pillar at the side.

"Picked up some moves at all these sleazy parties we attended."

"Mhm, to dance with all the pretty girls I see.." she grinned.

He only breathed a laugh, his attention back to Cassandra. Sensing her hand gliding from his chest to his back. Briefly brushing over the pistol grip that stuck out from the waistband and pressed onto his lower back under the suit jacket.

A slower song began playing and she leaned her head against his shoulder to rest her - surely alcohol-induced - spinning head. And they began moving slower. His breathing hitching along with their movement.

Her eyes closed then and she let herself take in the feeling of Taehyung holding her in his broad arms like this. Forgetting completely where they were and why. For just a minute, she wanted to be in a bubble of her own instead.

Taehyung smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against her sweet-scented curls.

The bare curve of her back fit perfectly under his fingertips and he wondered if that was even possible or if he just made things up by now. Like the aching in his chest and the cloudiness of his mind at the feeling of Cassandra's delicate body swinging in his arms.

"No, you're the only pretty one so far."

His thoughts mindlessly slipped out of his lips, not meant to actually be said out loud. And the thief realised he had to snap out of whatever this was he was letting himself get lost in.

They were only there as a cover so he could keep an eye out for the job.

And moreover, Cassandra was a friend. A dear friend. One of those friends you didn't need to see every day to know they were there. A friend who, no matter how much time apart, it would always feel like not even a day had passed by since the last time you'd joked with them. No matter how far away, they still cared for you. And you for them.

That was the kind of friend Cassandra was to him. A special one. He knew, after all, that a friendship like this wasn't a given. Especially considering his busy and beyond legal life.

So no, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything beyond that. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or surrender to that looming feeling. Or the way his chest contracted irregularly when sensing her fingers fisting his suit jacket when hearing his words.

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat at his warm breath brushing over her ear and she swallowed. She wanted to believe she knew him well enough to know he'd never say something ingenuine, he wasn't the type to wrap others around his finger just for fun.

"Glad my dress is 'fitting' enough," she quietly joked, reciting his previous choice of words to ease the sudden tension between them. His chest vibrating against her cheek.

"Mh, green is my favourite colour."

Her eyes fluttered open at this and she slightly heaved her head to look at him.

"You're lucky, then," she smirked, "If it was available in blue or red, I'd have chosen them instead."

"Huh." His lips shaped a small grin. "Are these your favourite colours? Blue and red?"

"Mhm, and their pastel shades."

He nodded, licking over his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I can see that. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies.."

She faked offence with a pout then to keep herself from blushing. "No diamonds?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her dark-frame eyes, mesmerized and perhaps a bit bewitched by their intenser look that night. "Diamonds are awfully common, they wouldn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly as they danced in a circle. The song changing into a more up-beat one. "They just became popular thanks to good PR."

Her lips formed a small 'o'. "Really? I didn't know that." Intentionally dismissing the subtle compliment between his words - unsure if she could handle herself otherwise - she was surprised by this information, seeing him nod.

She hummed then, looking away for a second before giving him an amused smile.

"Wow, what good promo can do. So no diamonds then.. good thing I was never a big fan of them anyway."

His brows rose, not having expected that as most people were, thanks to aforementioned advertisement.

"No?"

"No, though there's one exception.."

Now he was intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Her lips curled and she bit back a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pink diamond like the Pink Panther."

At this Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing with a chesty sound. Of course she'd be referring to a classic heist film, he thought. His head falling back before he tried containing himself as a few people around them already glanced in utter bewilderment at his sudden amusement.

Flashing her a square grin then, still chuckling. "A pink diamond would suit you indeed."

Cassandra smiled contently and placed her head back onto his shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

His glance left her then and instead wandered up, looking around in the sea of important people and to the direction of his main person of interest. Only to freeze, coming to an abrupt halt.

The embassandor was gone from his spot and nowhere to be seen.

Dammit, he wasn't able to spot him.

Cassandra frowned, mirrowing his expression. "What h-"

"Come," he said in a stern tone and tugged at her hand. Rushing out of the crowd. "I lost sight of him," he explained over his shoulder when reaching the spot he had last seen him at.

Her eyes widening in mild panic as well, now also frantically looking around.

With quick steps, he held her close to him as they left the ball room. His eyes intense and it worried her, the last time she'd seen that expression on them was when they'd been chased through Barcelona half a year ago.

He scanned their surroundings, his eyes seemingly a shade darker and he tapped his in-ear transmitter then. "Guys? Stay alert, I lost sight of him."

"What?" Jimin's raised voice was heard from the other line. "How? Weren't you paying attention?"

"I-" He briefly peeked at Cassandra. Feeling disappointed in himself for acting like a noob and letting himself get distracted. "I shortly lost focus," he eventually muttered.

"Yeah, can imagine with what," his friend chuckled then and he felt his cheeks turning red.

"We're almost done," Yoongi spoke up then, "Just make sure he isn't entering his office in the next ten minutes."

"Got it."

According to the blueprint, the office was in the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. Right there where Jimin and Yoongi were located at right now.

He took a last glance into the ball room, ensuring he hadn't missed him.

"Can you see him?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No, but I can see his wife. Wait."

Before Taehyung even realised she had left his side, she was already walking up to the embassandor's wife, a blond woman in her forties in a deep lavender-coloured dress currently holding a martini while chatting with another woman. Only when he saw her green dress flowing a few metres away from him, he realised what she was planning to do. His eyes widening, about to run after her and hold her back when the blonde turned and smiled at Cassandra. The three women began to chat away for a moment. Cassandra giggling at something the brunette woman in the blue dress said, bowing at her before walking back to him.

Already spotting Taehyung's inquiring look. "What did you-"

"Her husband apparently lost his cufflink and went to replace it with another pair in his office. He's supposed to deliver a speech in fifteen minutes and didn't want to do it without it."

"How did-"

She shrugged, cutting him off. "I just introduced myself with the fake name and explained my work in the medical field. The other woman was the leader of a women's health organisation, I recognised her. So it was easy to strike a conversation. Then I casually wondered where the gala's host was and she told me."

His lips parted, taken aback by how smoothly she obtained the information, almost reminding him of the other smooth-talker he knew, Jimin. However, something else caught his attention then.

"Office you said?"

She nodded.

Fck.

He slid off his suit jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder. "Wait outside for me, okay?"

"Wh-why? Where are you going?"

"Saving their asses."

And with that he ran off, leaving her back. Again. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was Cinderella and it was close to midnight.

Holding his blazer tightly, Cassandra went back to the ball room, passing by the dancing crowd and towards their table where she picked up her purse before making her way out of the stuffy atmosphere. Past the foyer with the big mirror which she intentionally ignored and exiting the building, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.

- Heated from the drinks and the heat from so many people in the room of course.

At least there were also other guests lingering around there. Some only now arriving, others gathered in small groups for a smoke.

She held the suit jacket closer to herself when she felt several pairs of eyes on her, stepping more to the side where she hopefully wouldn't gain any attention. And she waited.

Usually, she wasn't someone who liked being in the dark, but she understood this wasn't a common situation for her. Her only role was to get Taehyung in, nothing else. She was supposed to stay out of trouble. So she tried actually listening this time and simply let him do his job.

However, after awhile she felt bored and didn't know what exactly to do with herself, so she observed other guests when suddenly faint pop-sounds echoed above her.

She glanced up, unable spotting anything out of the ordinary that could've caused it. It seemed like nobody else had heard it though, most likely due to the loud background noises of chatter and music.

Minutes passed and she grew more impatient while waiting outside in the chilly air, another sound being heard then. This time it was a creaking from around the corner.

The young woman tensed, again no one else but her having heard it. Sparkling her curiosity once again, she turned around the corner only to be almost hit by someone landing right in front of her on the grass. And she squealed, clutching her purse tightly until realising it was none other than Taehyung who had appeared out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a hiss as he brushed over his black dress shirt. His hair dishevelled by now.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips then, shushing her. And with wonderous eyes she observed him sliding the magnum out from between his waistband along with a small cylinder. Screwing it onto the gun barrel. Next, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner and aiming at the side-building on the opposite side of the courtyard.

He knew they were at a blind spot which the guards couldn't spot, but if he leaned out too much he'd be caught by them so he had to act quick and careful.

His tongue slightly darted out as he focused, firing one precise shot at a window in the first floor then. Everyone present stirred up at the shilling sound and the security from the entrance immediately rushed inside. The people who had been outside in the courtyard all looked up at the window while raising their voices in confusion. Confused mumbles about what it could've been, some guessing a stone having been thrown. No one having guessed a gunshot as the silencer prevented it creating a loud enough noise for the to hear with the background buzzing.

Content by their reactions, Taehyung tapped his in-ear then. "Quick."

At his command, Yoongi's head followed by Jimin's appeared out of the window in the second floor. And the two began climbing out the windowsill to slid down the gutter pipe. Half-way through though they slipped and landed in the bushes beneath them, with butts first.

Taehyung and Cassandra stifling a  laugh at the hilarious sight.

"Haha funny."

"Well, quite an elegant way to go," Yoongi chuckled in self-irony as he picked leaves out of his hair.

"Something that wouldn't have happened if someone had done his job correctly," Jimin coughed then. A knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. Before the younger one could counter something though, he already waved him off. "Anyway. Let's get out of here before they notice."

They nodded, Taehyung turning to her then. "Cas, wait at the gate for a few minutes. We'll get the car and pick you up."

"Wh-"

"Just trust me, okay?"

She swallowed at his look of appeal and nodded. Watching them sneak behind the bushes to the very back of the high metal fence, which immedietally subjected to Yoongi's katana as if it was nothing but butter under a knife. And the three escaped from the hole and into the night.

Perplexed and a little unsure, Cassandra slowly walked out and making sure no one had seen her appearing from behind the corner when she heard loud voices coming from the open window in the second floor. Security probably having entered the office.

Acting as if she hadn't had a clue about what had gone down, she innocently walked across the courtyard and through the corridor to the entrance. The grip around Taehyung's suit jacket firm when she entered the chill night at the open street. Even humming while letting her gaze wonder around, pretending she didn't notice any of the uproar from inside the building. Glancing at her imaginary watch then, she acted as if she was waiting for someone and they were late which technically was true.

Finally, the familiar black limousine appeared in front of her and she hurried to the backseat where Yoongi greeted her with a nod. And they drove off.

"Alright. What even happened?" she asked then, a rush of adrenaline still running through her veins as she began shifting in her seat and glancing at each of them.

Taehyung dragged out a tired breath from the passenger seat, recalling the events of the past twenty minutes. How the embassandor had indeed been heading to his office. How Taehyung had to knock out a security guard to create a commotion in the first floor for the embassandor and his security to go check out. And then him escaping by climbing out the window before they reached the source. "Nothing."

Cassandra blinked with a scoff. "Nothing? Seriously now?"

"Just had to do create a little distraction."

Was that the noise she had heard? "What distraction?"

He smirked into his palm that was propping up his chin. "Oh, you know. Had to get a little creative." By basically making his own firecrackers.

"Don't worry, love, no one saw us and we got what we were there for," Jimin smiled brightly from behind the steering wheel, glancing at her in the rear-view window before adding with a wink, "Nice dress, by the way. I can see why Taehyungie got so distracted."

Taehyung's brows rose at this, his hand slipping from his chin. He probably would've fought his friend if he hadn't been driving right now, surpassing cars at speed limit.

"This had nothing to do with anything," he said with a scowl, keeping his voice calm and unphased. Cassandra only folded her lips, nodding to ensure she believed him. His attention then returning to Jimin. "And you, can you not flirt with any female for just five minutes?"

He was just glad he had offered her his blazer so they didn't actually get to see the whole dress or otherwise Jimin wouldn't have stopped pestering her.

He heard the master thief groan in annoyance then. His gleeful mood by their successful stunt, sullening with Taehyung's irrational agitation. "Man, chill. She looks good, that's all I said."

"It's alright, seriously," Cassandra giggled bemused by their quarreling, patting Taehyung's shoulder reassuringly from the back. She leaned over between the seats then to flash Jimin an appreciating grin. "And thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it so I'm glad someone likes it."

Jimin's eyes widened at this, peeking at Taehyung dumbfounded. "Don't tell me I'm the only one who complimented you tonight."

"Well," she laughed under her breath and sat back, "I also heard it'd be 'fitting' for the occasion. I took that as a compliment."

"I-it definitely was," Taehyung assured, earning an eye-roll from Jimin who found him unbelievable.

"You do look good," Yoongi spoke up then from beside her. Giving her a small encouraging smile, which she reciprocated happily.

"Thank you, Yoongi!" It felt great to hear all these compliments, even if it was just out of politeness.

Her eyes briefly wandered to the passenger seat then, lingering there a moment when an inaudible sigh escaped her. Adverting her eyes from him then and instead looking out at the passing buildings across the illuminated Danubian bank.

As they turned into a side-street and away from the river, Jimin's phone vibrated in his pocket. Cassandra didn't really think much of it, but Yoongi and Taehyung exchanged an alerted glance. There were only two reasons someone would call him after all.

Either it was Arabella, wanting to persuade him into helping her out again or it was interpol being on their tail.

Honestly, they didn't know which one was the worse trouble.

By the light scowl on Jimin's face, though, and the lack of flirting and heart-eyes while speaking to the caller, it was most likely not Arabella.

"Alright, thanks dear," he said then and ended the call. A groan leaving his lips before he faced them with an uneasy laugh. "Well, seems like pops found our hide-out. The nice old neighbour called me. I'd asked her to let me know if someone showed up and she said some tall, handsome guys with trenchcoats were questioning them."

"Sounds like pops and his entourage," Yoongi nodded, being glad Jimin was charming enough to convince nice old ladies to help them out and inform them if cops showed up, "How far is the airport?"

"Pops? You mean that interpol agent?" Cassandra's eyes grew twice in size when recalling that nickname, "He found you here? How?"

They shrugged. "That's his job, after all. He'd quite suck if he didn't do it right occasionally," Jimin chuckled, taking a sharp turn and earning some honking from other drivers.

"You think it'd be smart to head to the airport now though?" Taehyung wondered out loud then, "Last time they were already surveillancing all airports and stations. Maybe we should just head to another city and lay low instead."

"You got a point," Jimin agreed then, "But then we gotta change cars. They'll probably soon find out about this one."

"Crap."

They fell silent and Cassandra looked around. "Well, how about you hide somewhere like my hotel room for the night and then think of something in the morning? I mean, no one will search you there, right?"

They perked up, Taehyung instantly shaking his head. "No. You already got enough involved."

"But no one knows that yet," she deadpanned, making his jaw clench. "No one will find you there."

"She got a point.."

"No, she doesn't," he protested in vain. He knew she was right, but he simply couldn't accept that.

"Alright, you got another idea then?"

"The one I suggested."

"You forget that last time they were also barricading the main roads in and out the city," Yoongi countered then, "So got any other idea?"

He didn't.

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Thankfully, and much to Taehyung's relief, they didn't have to actually all cramp in Cassandra's hotel room since the room next door was unoccupied. It was easy for them to pick the old lock after sneaking into the building from an open window without anyone noticing that they were even there. The perks of old, small hotels.

When they parted, Cassandra's body was still buzzing from the gala. The exhilarating feeling not having fully subdued yet.

After entering her dark room, she first freed her feet from the stilettos and kicked them as far away as possible, not wanting to ever see them again. However, she didn't feel like taking off her dress as well yet and shedding off the elegant feeling of the night so soon.

It was still fairly early, not even midnight yet, and she decided to sit outside at the small balcony for a moment to cool down and recall the last few hours. Taking one of her jackets with her as she'd already returned Taehyung's blazer.

It was silent in the backyard of the hotel, save for the faint melody of music coming from an open window somewhere. The little tables in its centre sitting lonely among trees and bushes.

It was ironic in a way, how no one out there could imagine what had happened on the other side of the city that night. As if it was a parallel universe.

Standing there for awhile enjoying the peaceful silence and reliving the evening in her head - while intentionally not dwelling too much on specific moments, or feelings - she  decided to go back inside. It was getting cold, even with her thick jacket on, and a sudden exhaustion overcame her after all when the sound of someone stepping out on the balcony beside hers made her pause in her tracks.

She knew it must've been one of the guys and yet, whoever it was probably went out to be alone just like her, so she didn't want to intrude.

So she dared an attempt to sneak inside. Only to get hindered by a low chuckle.

"You stalking me now?" The teasing smirk was audible even from behind the partition. And Cassandra exhaled in relief before huffing jokingly.

"Excuse me, I was here before you?"

Taehyung tsked and leaned his folded arms over the railing right beside her. Letting his eyes wander over the dark scenary of the night. The music had stopped awhile ago, only a stray cat pushing a can echoed through the peacefulness now.

She leaned a bit over to catch a glimpse of him behind the thin cement wall then.

His side-profile shone under the sparse lighting of a lamp underneath them, its serene expression captivating. Unsure if she'd ever seen it before.

She was fond of it, though, just as she was fond of his strong brows, the curves of his nose and lips and all the other soft edges complimenting them. And she was especially fond of the way the night breeze was swaying his tousled strands, not much of their previously sleeked back state evident anymore. Causing them to fall right into his eyes before he pushed them back with his long fingers.

In that moment she made a mental snapshot of this sight, the sight only she got to see and nobody else. She knew with time, her memory wouldn't be able to fully capture this placid nature anymore, but she knew the emotions it triggered inside her would forever be engraved in it.

Her gaze wandered out into the old buildings then, she inhaled deeply and ignored the lingering chemical reactions underneath the surface of her skin. Pushing it all away. Or at least, pretended to.

"I had fun tonight."

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head to face her better. In the faint lightning, her round face glowed like the mood. And he observed her tuck away a brash curl which had fallen into her view and got caught in her long eyelashes. Warm eyes absentmindedly staring at nothing in particular and he noticed the tiniest reflections of light dancing in them.

His mind instinctively remembering the similar sight in the ballroom only a few hour ago. When she was in his arms in the sea of people.

A shaky breath left his lips at that memory and he averted his eyes from her again. Focusing on the dark silhouette of a building in the distance instead.

"Me, too," he eventually breathed and pushed himself off the railing. "But don't expect this to happen again," his tone turning into a warning one then, "This was the first and only time you'll get involved in a heist."

He had to stifle a laugh when hearing her offended huff, imagining her folding her arms in front of her with an adorable confusion.

"What, why? It was so exciting! And I did my part well, didn't I? Not my fault if you blew it." A dull sound followed her mini rant along with her small yelp and he already figured out that she hit her elbow against the metal railing. Shaking his head, he was about to argue when she continued, blowing out some air. "Besides, it hardly counts as 'participating in a heist' anyway."

"And why doesn't it?"

"Because I barely noticed anything from the action."

Her complaint made a laugh brush past his lips. "Good. Let's keep it this way. It was the last time this happens anyway," he simply stated then and she pouted.

"Fine, you meanie."

"Cas-"

"I said 'fine', I get it," she sighed then, "I'm not naive, I know it can get far more dangerous than that. No reason to keep lecturing me. But it was still fun and I don't regret it. When else could I dress up and attend a gala after all?" She smiled and he could tell she genuinely meant it.

Taehyung nodded, biting back a smile.

"You looked beautiful tonight, by the way."

Her breath hitched and she stayed quiet for longer than she intended. "Oh, so not just 'fitting'?"

And Taehyung folded his lips, unable to retort anything as the mocking, even if playful, felt deserved.

Why had he struggled so much telling her before?

He should've told her way sooner, face to face with no partition seperating them. It had been on the tip of his tongue all night long, but something inside him feared crossing a line if saying it out loud. He felt like a coward right now.

But what if he didn't even mean to say 'beautiful'? What if the word he much rather preferred was 'breathtaking'?

"No. You.. you looked great."

His firm voice put a smile on her face, feeling the chemical reactions inside her gaining intensity all over again. She straightened herself then and cleared her throat.

"Thank you. You looked quite handsome, too, cool guy." Like someone who drank his vodka martinis 'shaken, not stirred' -type of handsome.

She found herself silly for not telling him sooner either, for some reason overthinking it the whole evening. So she couldn't really judge him for only complimenting her now. She wondered if he had struggled as much as she had.

"Ah, did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath, masking his own blush.

"Mh, I'm sure you already knew."

"No, I didn't actually," he grinned, "But thank you."

And they enjoyed the silence of the night for a little bit longer.

»»»

next chapter: 0.7 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame @nanakamami @sweetmimosa28

[ezwhump]

The Middleman - Hair Dye

content: (defective conditioning, dehumanizing language, mentions of previous abuse, mentions of forced body modifications)

The car rattled to a stop in the parking lot of a dingy motel. It was a squat, murky-green building near a closed section of outlets, with glitching neon signs and rusting guard rails on the second floor.

Benzo shut off his engine and pocketed his keys, turning to the boy in his front seat.

“You’re not going to make a scene. We’re just checking in.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the dashboard, and Benzo unbuckled his belt before going around the car and opening the passenger door. The boy got out, the cuffs of his sweater balled into his fists, standing pigeon-toed and shaking.

Benzo cupped a hand to the back of his neck and moved the boy with him in quick strides until they were out of the cold night and at the front desk.

An older blonde woman stood smoking behind the counter, leafing through a magazine with thick acrylics.

“Room for a week would be great, thanks doll.” He could hear how tired he sounded, despite trying not to.

“Mmhm, leave an ID and a credit card.”

Benzo tossed both onto the counter, the woman sliding a set of keys with a room number tag in exchange. He took it and guided the boy out until they’d reached room 45, on the second floor.

There were two single beds, a desk by the window, and a bathroom that could barely even be called a bathroom. The wallpaper was peeling and the whole room reeked of stale smoke and cheap detergent.

“Strip and put the clothes on the bed. I’ve only got four days til we have to drop you off so we haven’t got a lot of time.”

Benzo turned around, shucking off his jacket and tossing it on the bed closest to the door along with his keys and burner phone. It wasn’t like it was a hard job, being the middleman. The pit stop between the trainer and the buyer. Honestly it was mostly superficial things that he was in charge of. Ensuring that training had sunk in properly, making the final cosmetic changes to fit what the client wanted, and then just keeping an eye on them until the time came to drop them off in a blindfold, gag, and cuffs. He’d gotten ridiculously good at it over the past few years.

The trainer had given him a file on the boy; hair, tattoos, detoxes needed. This one was twenty-five, a natural blonde with fifteen tattoos and a penchant for smoking weed. But since he’d been handed off, Benzo had picked out the changes the client had requested. It was like a game for him, like Spot the Difference.

Weight loss was the most obvious. He’d been listed in the two hundreds but that was clearly not the case anymore, small and curled in on himself as he stripped off the clothes and folded them on the bed.

Next was the tattoos, probably the most uncomfortable part. Fifteen of them, none visible, now just patches of darker, mottled skin in various places on his body; the back of his neck, behind his ear, big chunks of it sectioned in neat, geometric shapes along his arms.

They’d cut them out.

Benzo would be in charge of the hair, the client wanted a redhead but there was only so much you could do with a cheap box dye and some vaseline. Regardless, he emptied the color cream into the color activator before shaking it and pulled on the thin latex gloves, rolling up his sleeves and dropping one of the towels on the floor.

“Come in.”

The boy shuffled into the bathroom in a pair of boxers and kneeled on the towel, bowing his head.

“We’ve gotta wait twenty minutes once I put this on.”

Benzo dropped into a squat, using a hair tie to section out the boy's hair. It was long, stopping at his nape, parted down the middle. He made sure to smear vaseline from a travel tub along the hairline, ears and neck before he started in on the application, the dye already processing in the bottle.

Once it was fully covered, Benzo peeled off the gloves and shoved everything back into the box before tossing it away.

“Stay there, I’ll come back when it's time to rinse.”

The boy made a noise and Benzo stopped cold in the doorway, fixing his eyes on the carpet.

“What was that?”

His voice was quiet and hoarse. Benzo could hear his vocal fry.

“It’s burning.”

They never talked. Not once. He’d had hundreds of them, whining when they had to pee, licking off the plate at the end of a meal, dropping to their knees at the slightest hint of his displeasure, although he never showed it. But none of them had ever once talked. What kind of client wanted one that could talk back?

Still, he’d take it in his stride.

“It was four bucks. It's gonna burn.”

And then he left and shut the bathroom door behind him because if the boy could talk then god knows what else the client was allowing him to do. He decided to review the file again, to make sure there were no more surprises waiting, and slumped onto the bed to skim through it.

“Surgical cosmetics to perform, blah blah, mmhm, filing teeth, jesus. Filing teeth? Okay. . . aha. Commands, actions, performance, demeanor, training.”

Benzo felt around his cargo pants pockets without looking away from the page until he found his cigarette carton and bit one out of the box by the filter, fumbling for his lighter.

“It is to be completely subjugated. . .”

Benzo’s eyes flitted to the end of the section as he lit his cigarette.

Mute.

He could feel a migraine settling in. Usually things went smoothly, without a hiccup. The training bled any fight out of them and by the time they arrived on his doorstep they were practically gift-wrapped for the client. Benzo’s work was strictly superficial, and he felt his stomach knot up with the knowledge that this was a bigger pain in the ass than he was willing to handle.

Still, maybe it was a fluke. It would be the training system that got the reprimand, not him. He was just the delivery boy. Stubbing out the cigarette on the underside of the bedside table, he got up and opened the bathroom door, light cutting across the boy's face.

“Rinsing time.” The boy crawled over to the tub and Benzo twisted on the faucet. He used to ask if the temperature was okay, but the smaller things had been pushed to the wayside since his clientele numbers had grown the past year, and the newcomers were a little more severe about how freely he got to interact with their purchases.

Pushing his hand through the cream of the dye, Benzo scrubbed over the scalp and lifted the length of the hair, squeezing the excess off until the water ran a diluted copper.

The boy was shaking, jaw clenched to prevent chattering, white-knuckling the lip of the tub as Benzo took a towel to his head and dried most of it off. It was a saturated auburn, a stark contrast to the earlier blonde, but it suited him a little better.

“Put your clothes back on.”

The boy nodded and Benzo tried to ignore the blood pulsing at all his focal points. If he just didn’t talk for the next week then Benzo could forget he ever did. That he was unfinished. That the whole aversive stimuli model didn’t work and he’d get punished for it the second Benzo dropped him off. The second he was left for the wolves.

Once the lights were off he could feel his headache abating, and knocked back a mouthful of rum from a half-empty flask in his jacket before climbing into bed. A few feet away, the boy was turned towards the wall, the curve of the blanket lifting with every breath.

He was almost asleep when a voice cut through the dark of the motel room.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Benzo pretended not to hear it.

-

-

(I am so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth! Things got stressful and I neglected a lot of areas in my life, including writing. But here's a short morsel to warm up my typing muscles and just let you all know I'm happy to be back. - ez)

p.s. please let me know if there are any tags I'm forgetting, I'm chronically bad at tagging.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Shot to Hell

Writing finally worked again! I thought of using this for Whumptober but then I was like, screw it, who’s gonna wait a month? So here have the Spider-Man content you’ve been asking me for, plus Tony and Bruce father-henning Peter.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder for beta-reading.

*

Peter fades back into consciousness right in the middle of a heated debate between Tony and Nat over the best method of peeling hard boiled eggs. 

“Wha’ happ’nd?” he croaks, prompting Tony to stop mid-sentence (“No, you don’t crack them on a flat surface, you gotta hit em with a–”) and both of them to turn their heads in his direction.

“Oh, look who decided to wander back to the land of the living,” Tony teases, but even in his still-dazed state, Peter can see relief blooming on his mentor’s face. 

“I passed out, didn’t I?” he asks. 

“Bingo. 10 points.” Tony raises a mocking eyebrow before asking in a more sober tone, “How are you feeling?”

“...Shot,” Peter deadpans, eliciting an eye roll from Tony and a grin from Nat.

“Do you remember what happened?” she chips in.

“Uhm… kind of?” Peter tries to think through the fog in his pounding head. He recalls the impact of the bullet with his body, and then someone―Dr. Banner?―plucking said bullet out again in an increasingly painful procedure that must have led to him blacking out. It’s the in-between that he’s kind of fuzzy about. For example, how he moved from the intersection of 77th and 164th to a room with the most hideous, peeling lilac-coloured wallpaper he’s ever seen and three venus fly trap plants on the windowsill. 

“Where am I?” 

“Bruce’s humble abode,” Tony explains, gesturing around to the sparsely adorned room. “Very humble, actually. Not even sure he has indoor plumbing.”

Nat rolls her eyes and hits his arm with a playful backhand.

Peter frowns. “Why are we at Dr. Banner’s?”

Tony shrugs. “It was closest, and we had to get that bullet out of you before your freaky spider DNA started knitting itself back together.”

“Bruce has all kinds of medical equipment here,” Nat explains. “He sometimes treats undocumented citizens.” 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “How do you know that? I didn’t even know that.” 

Nat shrugs mysteriously, then pushes herself away from the edge of the desk she was sitting on top of. “I’m gonna tell him that your disaster kid woke up.” 

“I’m not–” Peter starts at the same moment Tony asserts, “He’s not–” 

“Yeah, yeah, save your breath.” Nat’s smile is amused and a little bit fond. 

Once she’s left the room, Peter pulls the blanket off his bare chest to try and get a look at the bandaged wound in his abdomen, but even lifting his head a little sends jolts of pain through his body and a groan escapes before he can stop it. 

“Easy, easy,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “No moving just yet for anyone with holes in them.”

“Is it really bad?” Peter asks, trying hard to mask the worry in his voice. He’s been injured in countless other ways since getting his powers, but it’s his first time getting shot. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders whether there will be any lasting damage. 

Tony’s expression goes soft as he seems to read his thoughts. “Bruce says you’re already healing. The bullet missed all the vital organs. With your healing factor, you should be back on the streets in a couple days.” 

At Peter’s relieved sigh, Tony then launches into an explanation of the very painful things Clint and Steve did to the Hydra agent who fired the gun after the other left to get Peter to safety. Peter nods along, feeling his eyes growing heavy. He doesn’t even realise that they’ve slipped shut until he feels Tony lightly rest a hand on his shoulder, but opening them again seems like way too much work. The wound is pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and he’s suddenly exhausted.

“...Peter? I thought you said he was awake.” 

“Yeah, he was until five minutes ago. Come on, kid, the doctor’s in.”

“Ngph,” Peter grunts, blinking his eyes open again to see Bruce swim into focus, the doctor’s brows knitting in concern. “‘M awake.”

“That’s good.” Bruce gives a small, encouraging smile. “I just want to check your vitals and see if there’s anything we can do for pain management. I know that normal painkillers don’t work on you, but there are some alternatives we could try.”

“No, no it’s fine. It’s not hurting that much,” Peter lies. 

“Uh-huh,” Bruce says, obviously not buying it. He fixes a blood pressure cuff to Peter’s upper arm and inflates it.  

"Yeah, that's still pretty low, but moving in the right direction. You probably shouldn't try to get up just yet."

"Probably?” Tony interrupts. "If he tries to leave this bed any time before tomorrow morning, I'll confiscate the suit for a month."

"Alright, Tony. Calm down." That's Nat, seated in a chair at the foot of the bed.

Tony flashes Peter a warning look before sticking his tongue out at Nat.

"I'm gonna take your pulse.” Bruce puts two fingers onto Peter's wrist and looks at his watch for a while. "120―Your heart's racing. Not much pain, you said?"

"I've had worse," Peter mumbles. That's not a lie, at least. The two-day migraine he had after getting bitten still ranks on top of that list, closely followed by the time he ruptured his Achilles tendon during a triple backflip in the Spider-Man suit from the roof of the gym. 

(The video Ned took of this particular incident still circulates on TikTok).

Tony huffs out a breath and mutters something that sounds a lot like god, this kid.

"Alright." Bruce lifts the blanket to check the bandages and seems to be content with what he's seeing. "Just try to rest like this, but if you can't sleep, we can think of trying some cannabis drops."

“Thanks, Dr. Banner,” Peter says.

"Oh, and you should eat and drink something if you feel up to it. You lost quite a bit of blood back there."

"Uhm." He definitely doesn’t feel up to that―he’s been lightheaded and slightly queasy since the time he woke up, and the mere thought of food turns Peter's stomach. "Maybe drink something?"

“We can start with that.” Bruce removes the blood pressure cuff and starts to put it back into its bag. “I’ll bring you some juice.”

“I’ll get it,” Nat offers and leaves the room. She returns a minute later with a small bottle of orange juice and a pink straw that she passes to Bruce.

“Oh, organic and fairtrade,” Tony comments, eyeing at the label. “You’re in for a treat today, kid.” 

Peter chuckles, but cuts himself off abruptly when he makes to sit up and the pain in his abdomen flares to the point that his vision greys out. “Ow,” he mumbles. 

Tony shoots out a hand when Peter lists towards him and carefully lowers him back down onto the mattress. “What did we say about not getting up yet?” the engineer pronounces through gritted teeth. “There’s a straw in that.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Peter awkwardly takes a few sips from the bottle while lying back, and then stops to draw in a breath. 

His unsuccessful attempt at sitting left him even more dizzy than before. The juice settles uneasily in his stomach and he puts the bottle down after finishing half of it before turning onto his uninjured side with Tony’s help. Nat and Tony restart their quibble about egg-boiling behind Peter while Bruce, sitting right next to him, starts to scroll through something on his phone. 

Peter closes his eyes and attempts to fall asleep, but the longer he tries, the more the pain radiating from the bullet wound seems to increase. On top of that, there’s a growing sick feeling in his gut that’s impossible to ignore. He slowly draws his legs up to his stomach, but it doesn’t help, so he stretches them back out and surreptitiously rests a hand on his belly. Adjusting his head on the pillow, he tries to carefully breathe through his nose.

“You doing okay?” Bruce asks quietly, looking up from his phone after another few attempts by Peter at finding a comfortable position. Peter nods, then lifts his hand to stifle a sick burp that carries the taste of orange juice. Cold sweat has broken out all over his body and he can feel himself starting to tremble minutely. 

Bruce regards him with a frown, then addresses Tony and Nat, who are still caught up in their banter. “Why don’t you two take this outside?” 

Tony starts to protest, but Bruce gives him a pointed look that the other man seems to understand, because he closes his mouth again and gets up from the far side of the bed. "See you later, buddy," he says, giving Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.

Once the two of them have left the room, Bruce turns back to Peter. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

“I, uhm, I kind of feel like throwing up,” Peter admits in a whisper.

“It’s alright, that happens,” Bruce assures him calmly. “I’ll get you a bowl, okay?” 

“I don’t want anyone to see–” 

“I get it,” Bruce reassures. “Don’t worry.” 

He disappears out of the door and Peter keeps swallowing thickly against the nausea rising up in his throat. The only thing worse than throwing up in front of the Avengers would probably be throwing up onto an Avenger’s bed. Luckily, Bruce reappears quickly with a basin in his hands that he sets down within Peter’s reach. “Try to breathe through it,” he advises. “But if you need to get sick, it’s okay.” 

Peter nods miserably. He tries to follow the scientist’s advice of breathing calmly, but it doesn’t do much to quell the nausea. A few minutes later, he has to reach for the basin, saliva already pooling in his mouth. 

"Here." Bruce helps him prop himself on his elbow. Peter shakily spits a few strings of saliva into the basin until a gag rises in his throat and he brings up a gush of orange juice. He barely manages to draw a breath before a second wave forces its way up. Peter can’t stop a whimper from escaping his lips between retches when his wound protests the sudden movement.  

“Hey.” Bruce pats his shoulder awkwardly. “You’ll be alright. Just get it all up.”

Peter is panting and shaking all over when he finishes. Bruce passes him some water to rinse his mouth. 

“That sucked,” Peter croaks after swirling and spitting it back out. He more crashes than lies back down on the pillow, pain radiating in waves through the lower half of his body, making his head spin. 

Bruce gives him a slightly sad, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry it’s hurting.” He gestures at the basin. “Are you okay if I take this away?” 

Peter nods, closing his eyes. A part of him is absolutely mortified at the idea of one of the world’s best scientists cleaning out his puke bowl, but the pain has taken most of the embarrassment away, and if there is anyone of the team he feels least uncomfortable seeing him like this, it’s probably Bruce with his slight shyness and calm down-to-earth attitude.

The man returns a few minutes later, bringing along a cold cloth for Peter to wipe his face, a small box of mints, and Tony.

“Day just keeps getting better, huh?” Tony remarks.

“Ugh.” Peter buries his head in his pillow. “This is such a disaster. And I was looking forward to the mission. And the team.”

“Hey.” Tony’s tone softens. He strokes some of Peter’s sweaty hair away from his forehead and then brushes his eyes shut. “We’re still here. Go to sleep now, kid. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

So Peter does.

_________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[lovelyirony]

made up fic title: i didn't know i was lonely (til i saw your face)

i wanna get better 

Howard Stark is the world’s smartest man. Tony knows this, has read it in so many newspaper articles and interviews and magazines that he could probably cut out every single time a journalist writes it and make a new fucking wallpaper out of it. 

It’s permeated every single aspect of Tony’s life. The problem is that Tony looks exactly like his father did. Everyone compares everything. How quickly he builds a weapon, how fast it can take for him to churn out an idea. 

His humor is the same, way of dressing is the same, and he should be the same. The world needs another Howard Stark for the next lifetime. They don’t need a Tony Stark. 

(And maybe...maybe Tony doesn’t mind that. It’s so much easier, to pretend to be somebody else and have them look at that.) 

Tony doesn’t make friends. Ever. Friends are not beneficial, and it’s not like they could hang out anyways. Tony reads in books about friends who go to diners together and attend movies and skateboard, but really? He doesn’t have time for that. He has to build things and study business, and get his life all sorted out. 

He is sixteen when he goes to college. He feels far too young, and the kind, warm hand of Jarvis’ smoothing out his hair makes the feeling worse. 

“You will be fine, Anthony. Study hard, and who knows how quickly you’ll graduate.” 

“Of course,” Tony says stiffly. 

“Have fun, Tony,” Ana says, grinning. “College can be a fun time.” 

It’s not supposed to be fun for him. Howard told him to focus on his studies only. His whole life would be the engineering and business buildings, and maybe he would sometimes get takeout. Maybe he wouldn’t. 

Point is, this is just like everything else in his life: the goal was to be exactly like Howard. Graduate top of his class, blow the world away, and have a glass of scotch after a job well done. (Or gin, or whiskey, or hell...all three.) 

- 

Rhodey was not a factor. At all. 

Tony had thought that his mother had paid extra to make sure her son had a room all to himself. Not out of a desire, no: out of necessity. Can’t have daddy’s little prodigy revealing anything. 

And maybe she meant to, but he’s not going to question it. Not when he’s just been staring. 

“Hey man,” the guy in the room says. The name-tag on the door says “Jim.” 

“Hey,” Tony says. “Good to...sorry. I just...I wasn’t expecting anyone here.” 

“Last minute decision. My room decided to burst a pipe. Technical difficulties. They say they’re gonna get it fixed as soon as possible. That a problem for you?” 

There’s more to the eyebrow raise, more to the tone. Jim isn’t going to take shit, and he knows who Tony is. He saw it in how his eyes widened for a moment. 

Tony likes him. He doesn’t know how it’s going to go later, but for now: Jim is a likable guy. 

“Not at all.” 

- 

To get used to sharing is definitely interesting. Tony has to get used to a lot, which isn’t a bad thing, but he wasn’t expecting to have to tiptoe at three a.m. while making ramen because Rhodey has something called a “sleep schedule to maintain.” 

Tony doesn’t know what the hell that is, but he doesn’t like it. 

Jim plays a lot of records, which is...odd. Tony’s never really been one for records, mainly because he’s future-thinking. But the way that Jim smiles when he hears a song and tells Tony a little anecdote about his father’s dancing in the kitchen? That’s good. 

So Tony buys some records, and falls in love with one band in particular: AC/DC. He can’t get enough of it. 

Jim, apparently, can. 

“Oh my god,” he groans, entering their dorm room. “Are you still playing that band?” 

“They’re amazing, Jim-Jam,” Tony says, turning it down a bit. “Besides, I thought your bio lab lasted for another hour.” 

“It was supposed to, but one of the sorority girls got too flustered with a fraternity guy and then things caught fire.” 

“Boo,” Tony says, frowning. “It’s the worst when a lab catches on fire.” 

- 

Tony is not expecting Jim to invite him anywhere, take him anywhere. After all, that’s not what school is for, and Tony’s not exactly the world’s best roommate. Besides, their RA said that they didn’t have to be friends, they just had to be good roommates. 

(Tony remembers this whenever he forgets to put away his ramen bowl.) 

But Jim invites him to a restaurant with a couple of his buddies from ROTC. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling. “Besides, you never go out.” 

There’s a reason for that, although people here aren’t really “fanatical” about Tony, thank god. 

- 

The dinner turns out to be terrible, because all of the guys just want to talk about Tony’s dad. 

“How did he end up getting the better reaction timing on the new pistol, the Stark 77?” A guy named Terry asks. 

And Tony freezes. 

That wasn’t Howard’s. That was his. 

Jim must’ve seen something on his face. 

“I, uh, I guess it must’ve just been something with the screw-in method during assembly,” Tony says weakly. “If you’ll excuse me, I just realized I have something to do at home.” 

- 

Howard’s been using his designs. No credit. 

He spends about ten minutes on the phone. It amounts to this sentence: 

“Without me, boy, you’d be nothing. Who do you think paid for school? Private tutors? Advanced textbooks? Who, yourself? Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Tony’s red-faced, and the phone gets hung up, and he stares out at the sky for maybe way too long. He forgot his ID to swipe back in, and has to launch little bits of rock at what he thinks is his and Jim’s window. 

Jim brings him up and sits with him on a bed. 

“I’m fine, honestly.” 

“No, you’re really not. Tony, you’re a terrible liar.” 

And he is, really. He can lie about so many things, but family and his state of mind are a bit harder nowadays. 

He gets hugged. 

That’s...holy shit, that’s new. He’s not sure the last time he got hugged by someone he liked. Jarvis tended to like the shoulder-pat, and Ana...well, she loved to hug him, but it had been a while. (Maria and Howard, he was quite sure, had skipped the ‘human emotional intimacy’ section of life.) 

“Your dad sucks,” Jim mutters. “Just so you know.” 

“I know. I know.” 

From then, they become friends. Tony is wondering if its pity. He asks Jim as such. He snorts. 

“Tony, I don’t make friends out of pity. I’m not that kind of guy. If we were friends out of pity, I’d be moving out next semester.” 

Tony smiles. 

-

He learns how to do friend things. They have a sleepover complete with the greasiest pizza possible, video games, and at least one debate over Star Wars. 

(It’s about whether or not the skeletal structure of Jabba the Hut holds up in truth, and how density of space affects him on different planets.) 

Tony, somehow, starts calling him Rhodey. It sticks, and Jim doesn’t complain. 

Rhodey’s sweaters slowly become Tony’s, and Rhodey teaches Tony all about casual affection. 

Hugs before class, kisses on the forehead, and more than enough teasing to last three lifetimes or more. 

- 

Come May, everyone’s abuzz with summer plans. Tony, however, is dreading it. Rhodey lives in Virginia, and Tony lives in New York. His mother wants him to live in their summer home in California. 

“Oh come on, I know that you’ll have to visit me,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Tell your mom it’s a business trip or something.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were corrupting me,” Tony says haughtily. Half his wardrobe is packed up, and he’s just waiting on Jarvis with the car. 

“Of course I am, gotta train you for when you liaison with the government for army contracts.” 

Tony laughs loudly. 

“Ah, so true. I’ll mark it down as heir-apparent training with my dear, drastically old father.” 

Rhodey nods, grinning. 

Tony’s leaving a day earlier than Rhodey is. 

He hopes he comes back a day earlier. 

After all, you can’t wait until you see your friend again. 

[atsunflower]

Let them sing — Intro

Rated: SFW

Author note: Freaking finally. I don't have much to say; this one right here is one of my favorites and I'm really excited to write about the twins.

Warnings: brief mentions of hallucinations and violence. Some cursing.

I — Intro

Previous || Next

He heard them.

Contrary to people's belief, it wasn't a song of agony. 

The choir of the deceased chanted as if it was the only thing they could do in the whole eternity, a melancholic melody comfortable to the ears.

"Let'em sing then"

"Oi, Samu. Did ya say something?" His brother asked, sending him a weird glare. It was funny how Atsumu knew him like the back of his hand, even though Osamu would always sport a stoic face and hold onto his nonchalant demeanor.

"Nah, ya hearing things" The grey haired male shrugged, playing it cool. The blond sent him a weird glare but opted to ignore the other. Whatever was on Samu's mind he would figure out eventually.

"Man, I'm so excited" Atsumu rubbed his palms, warming them up in excitement "I've heard that Niiyama boss is a hot shot."

"Yeah, everyone knows it" the male rolled his eyes "Just don't try ta ruin everything, dumbass. Remember this 'Nee-san' woman is known for being hella strict" Osamu warned as they arrived the place.

White walls and black iron gates. The house of Niiyama held a imponent aura, as if the building tried to cover its backstory.

Back then, the place used to be a brothel; the most exquisite one, with women at its finest.

All of this for in one night, two years ago, everything take a turn and change completely: the women here rioted and took over the place. Now, Niiyama was a neutral sisterhood that sold information. Like an oracle, Nee-san knew everything.

"Oi Samu, what d'ya think she looks like?" Atsumu asked as he stopped the car engines.

"I dunno, I don't care." Osamu shrugged. They got out of the vehicle, eyeing the tall girl by the door. "Behave."

"Man, you're no fun" The blond whined while they both walked to the house entrance. "I should have brought Sunarin instead" He heard his brother say before the girl smiled at their presence.

"Good morning. It's a pleasure to have both Inarizaki oyabuns here today" The hostess said bowing at them "My name is Kanoka and I will take you two to Nee-san" She turned her back, opening the door.

"The pleasure is ours, Kanoka-san. We look very forward to meet with Nee-san" Atsumu was quite the flirt, hearing him being so polite would always be a surprise to Osamu.

Well, it was business involving Inarizaki after all.

"The feeling is mutual, Miya-san. It's a surprise you contacted us since your household never showed interest to do business with Nee-san before" Kanoka said without any malice while Atsumu hummed in acknowledgement.

Taking in his surroundings, Osamu noticed the emptiness of the mansion lobby; plain white walls with wide glass windows along a floor covered in white marble. No decoration items nor other people around, this clearness conferring a sad atmosphere to the ample house as this feeling kind of tickled him off.

He didn't have much more time to observe the room as the tall woman led them upstairs. There, the walls painted in the same white took the form of a corridor, as he recalled being being in this place only once to deal with some scumbag who owed Inarizaki money.

Back then, a burgundy wallpaper and golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling would make aesthetics for shady purposes. Now, even if the aesthetics were for the better, he didn't know what to feel about the building.

At the end of the corridor, a huge door stood imponent. Kanoka knocked the hard wood twice before signaling they both could enter the room.

"I can say it's a surprise to have the remarkable Miya twins at Niiyama" The soft timber welcomed them. Observing their surroundings, they spotted a woman standing by the windows; the morning's light made her skin glow as she slowly turned to face the duo.

Osamu felt his breath hitch in his throat, but the male would be lying if he said it was because of your beauty.

There was something about you that he would recognize even if he was blind.

Your eyes held the same dullness of his.

What a woman like you would have done to have the very eyes of a sinner like him?

"I heard you guys suffered some setbacks a while ago" The gray haired male saw his twin holding back a scoff at her words. The woman signaled them to sit as she took three cups and poured green tea into it. "I have a vague idea of it, but first I gotta know if you guys are willing to take what we have to offer" She stretched some wrinkles on her black dress, waiting for their response as she set the cups in front of them.

"We're pretty much worried to come at ya. As ya said, it's the first time Inarizaki meets Niiyama" Osamu couldn't hold the urge to talk to her "But we're putting lots of money on it. We ain't paying for tittle-tattle" It wasn't his intention to sound so harsh, but he didn't know how to feel about this place.

The male observed her neutral face as she took a sip from the rich tea, warily eyeing him.

"Do you know the difference between rumours and information, Miya-san?" The male opened his mouth to reply but she beated him to it "Rumour is when you and your Kobun, Suna, went to that love hotel and people assumed you were some sort of lovers" The flat tone held no provocation. It was just you stating you really knew things, and it still made him pissed. "Information is the fact you two went there to get rid of that Danzo guy involved with prostitution"

"How do ya know it?" He heard Atsumu's alarmed voice from his left. You turned your attention to the blond male, sighing.

"That's the point of Niiyama, Miya-san" His brother cursed as you kept collected "Don't worry, we didn't sell this info to anyone"

"And why is that?" It was his turn to ask.

"Because we appreciate what you did"

I like her sincerity, Osamu decided.

"Well, Inarizaki is known for protecting women" Atsumu's foul mouth stated, lacing each word with pride. You lifted an eyebrow at it, distaste briefly crossing your features — the only glimpse of emotion you showed in the whole conversation, he noticed.

"Very rich, considering you both handed your sister in a silver plate to Itachiyama"

Osamu heard the voices snickering. Pathetic.

You didn't even flinch when Atsumu slammed the porcelain cup onto the coffee table. You patiently waited for his outburst to unfold.

"We didn't come here ta be disrespected!"

"Did I lie, Miya-san?" Your question wasn't provocative, but bothered Osamu too.

"Atsumu, shut it" The gray haired man stared at you before continuing. "We have other matters to discuss. What do you know about Johzenji?"

The woman inhaled deeply, shifting on her seat.

"That's the problem. I don't know anything about it"

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[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Forty-Eight

Summary: You spend some time in Empire City ahead of your birth mother’s funeral, facing some old memories head-on. Words: 3.5k Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Danneel, Dallas (OC), Rosa (OC) Warnings: mentions of past sexual and physical abuse Beta: @blacksiren​

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

Your name: submit What is this?

You directed Jensen to your mother’s apartment after collecting her things from the hospital, your hands playing with the keys in your lap.

“There’s parking to the left,” you murmured as he turned onto the block.

Jensen nodded, pulling into an empty spot and shutting off the engine.

Neither of you moved, both just sat staring out of the windscreen blankly.

"I can go up alone," Jensen offered after a while. "I understand if you don't want to."

You shook your head as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"I've got this," you assured him, getting out of the car.

*****

You deliberately ignored the shaking of your hand as you unlocked the front door of the complex, and you were grateful that Jensen didn't mention it at all.

You lead him up the stairs without a word, pausing on the second floor landing as your heart started to thump.

"This is where I woke up after she pushed me," you commented, your voice light as you continued up the final flight of stairs.

"Y/N," Jensen murmured, but you spoke before he could continue.

"Good times," you joked. "Fun memories."

You knew he was going to chastise you so you tried not to give him the opportunity, opening the apartment door and stepping inside.

Everything looked exactly the same. The same ancient wallpaper, the same flooring, the same rug under the same coffee table.

The same couch.

A lump grew in your throat as you looked at the couch, turning to face Jensen as you motioned to it.

"So this was my bed," you told him, keeping your tone light, as if you were the current owner showing him the property. "This is where they raped me."

Your voice cracked on the word as it always did, so you turned away to continue your tour.

"Hey," Jensen said, softly, as he gently turned you back to face him with a hand on your shoulder. "Sweetheart, it's okay to feel things."

You looked down, unable to meet his eye.

"You don't have to be okay with being back here," he continued. "This place was hell for you."

You nodded, sniffing as you felt your nose begin to run and your eyes fill with tears.

"You're so brave," he whispered, "So strong to even have come to the city after everything that happened here. You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling. And, with me, you're allowed to let your guard down and be vulnerable."

You clenched your jaw to stop the tears from falling.

“If I don’t joke about it I’ll cry,” you told him, teeth clenched, and he pulled you into a hug so he could offer you comfort without forcing you to look at him.

“Then cry,” he whispered, his hand cradling the back of your head.

You shook your head against him but he held firm, shushing you gently and rubbing your back until you couldn't hold in the tears any longer.

"It's okay," Jensen murmured, kissing the top of your head. "Let it out, baby. You'll never have to come back here again. You'll never be hurt like that again."

He could feel you shaking with sobs against him, and with every broken sound that escaped you his heart lurched for you.

He knew that you had been through a lot in this apartment, you had been slightly more open about everything since holding your event, but he’d never fully appreciated just how much it had affected you. Holding you as you sobbed in the middle of a room that caused you so much pain, he realised just how strong you were.

“Hey,” he murmured once you had stopped shaking, pulling back enough to cup your face in his hands.

“Hey,” you sniffed, offering a weak smile.

He smiled back, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You are amazing,” Jensen told you, causing you to frown slightly. “Don’t look at me like that. You are incredible, sweetheart.”

“I’m crying like a baby,” you reminded him, sniffing.

“It would be fucking weird if you weren’t,” he whispered, the bluntness taking you by surprise. “I’m serious. But the fact that it took you being back here for you to break down like this…”

He trailed off, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“You are so strong,” he told you. “The strongest woman I know; and I know your mama.”

“Now you’re just being nice to me because I’m sad,” you protested, and he shook his head.

“I’m being nice to you because you deserve it,” he corrected, and you swallowed, looking down at your feet. “And because I want you to have at least one good memory in this hell hole; one memory of your parent being honest with you. The memory of me telling you how proud I am of you.”

You smiled sadly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pulling back completely and wiping your cheeks. “Now let’s get this shit sorted so we can get out of here.”

*****

Luckily there wasn’t much in your birth mother’s apartment that you really needed to sort through. All of the clothes went into a bag to be donated to charity, and most of the furniture could be left in the apartment as it was in good enough condition to be kept by the next tenants. The couch, however, Jensen insisted was taken to a recycling centre and disposed of. You weren’t going to argue about that.

You left to go back to your hotel, allowing Jensen to organise the apartment to be cleaned before handing everything back over to the landlord.

After a shower to wash away the horrible feeling that being back in that place had left on you, you sat down on your bed and called home while Jensen was out getting you something to eat.

Jared answered the call with Dallas sat on his lap, the sight of the two of them causing tears to well in your eyes before you had even said ‘hello’.

“Oh, Mama,” Jared sighed, smiling sympathetically. “How are you holding up?”

You laughed, wiping your eyes with the hand not holding your phone.

“I’m just happy to see you both,” you assured him.

“We’re happy to see you, too,” he promised. “Aren’t we, little bean?”

“Yah,” Dallas agreed, playing with her daddy’s hands as they were holding her waist. “Home soon?”

“Soon enough, baby,” you told her, smiling sadly. “Are you being good for Daddy and Bambi?”

“She is,” Jared nodded. “We had the twins round for a sleepover last night to give Dee a bit of a break and they were all angels.”

“Gonna give you such a big hug when I get back," you told your daughter. "Been missing you so much."

"What about Daddy?" Jared asked, and you laughed as you noticed the glint in his eye.

"I've missed Daddy, too," you replied. "I'm sure he'll get a little more than a hug when I come home."

"Gross," Jensen groaned, having entered the hotel room while you were answering.

"Whosat?" Dallas questioned, the sound catching her attention.

You switched the camera over to show Jensen as he walked towards you, handing you a paper bag.

"Grampa!" Dallas laughed, and Jensen grinned at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah, Grandpa is here, baby," he told her, sitting beside you so you could turn the camera and have you both in view for your daughter.

"Hi," Dallas grinned, and Jensen smiled back.

"Hello, gorgeous," he replied, his words causing her to preen. "I've been looking after your mommy for you, I promise."

"Goo'boy."

You laughed at her response, knowing she'd picked up the phrase from how you all spoke to Arlo, Oscar, and Icarus.

"He's the best boy," you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "We've gotta go or our food will get cold but I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay, sweets?"

Your daughter nodded, and you smiled.

"I'll text you later," Jared told you before addressing Jensen. "Take care of her."

"Always," Jensen agreed, blowing Dallas a kiss and making her giggle before hanging up.

You smiled as you placed your phone down beside you, picking up the takeout bag and looking inside.

“You’re an angel,” you told your father, pulling out the foil-wrapped burrito he’d picked up for you.

“I know.”

*****

You and Jensen were staying in Oklahoma until the funeral on Thursday, the two of you having rushed it through due to just wanting it all to be over, so you decided to take your father on a trip down memory lane. A good one, this time.

You woke up in the morning before Jensen got up, leaving the hotel to get him breakfast from the diner that you worked for at weekends during your high school years.

It wasn’t until the bell rang above the door as you entered that you remembered that you might be recognised in Empire City.

“Oh, my God,” the woman behind the counter beamed. “Y/N?”

“Hey,” you smiled, walking into your old boss’ embrace as she practically ran from behind the service counter to hug you. “Long time, no see.”

“What’re you doing back here?” Rosa asked, leading you over to the counter and offering you a bar stool. “Is work really that thin that you’re back here handing in your resume?”

You laughed, nodding.

“Yeah, leaving Supernatural really hit me hard,” you joked, and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t believe you for a second, sugar,” she smiled.

“No, I’m not looking for work,” you finally answered her. “I’m actually showing my dad around the place I grew up, at the moment. Starting with my favourite diner breakfast.”

Rosa beamed, scribbling down an order before you even told her what you wanted, putting it on the pass to the kitchen and dinging the bell as if it were the most important order in the world.

“To go,” you reminded her, and she nodded, repeating your words in a yell back to the kitchen. “What have you ordered me?”

“Your usual,” she smiled. “The same order I’d have made up for you every Saturday morning before your shift. Times two, for your new handsome dad.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment on Jensen’s looks.

“At least let me pay, this time,” you requested, reaching for your wallet.

“Nope,” she told you, stubbornly.

“Rosie,” you laughed softly. “I must owe this place thousands by now. Let me pay for this.”

“Sugar, you’ve not paid for a meal the whole time I’ve known you,” she reminded you. “You’re famous now. Just leave us a good review on TripAdvisor under your real name.”

You knew she was joking but you got your phone out to do as she’d asked anyway.

“That will get us more custom without you spending a dime.”

“You realise I have money now, right?” you questioned. “Like… more money than I know what to do with.”

“I know that,” Rosa smiled, waving at another customer as he left and nodding one of the servers over to clear his table. “I also know you have a little girl and two boys to spend every penny on.”

“I’ll put it in the college fund,” you assured her.

“Good,” she smiled. “Now, tell me about your life. It’s been a while.”

*****

You returned to your hotel room, food in hand, with a huge smile on your face.

Learning from past experiences, you had left Jensen a note telling him where you were going, so by the time you got back he was dressed and ready for the day. No more panicking that you’d run away in the night.

“Fresh from the finest diner in town,” you told him, handing him a container of food before taking a seat at the desk with your own.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Jensen smiled, opening the box and laughing softly.

“My old boss made us my usual,” you explained as he frowned down at the food in front of him. “Pancakes and waffles with sausage, eggs, and syrup.”

“The fact that you’re not 500lbs still surprises me,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. “Waffles and pancakes?”

“Also known as the Y/N Special,” you informed him. “Customers started asking for it after a while. Like a secret menu item.”

“‘Two of everything, please,’ isn’t a secret menu item, kiddo,” Jensen teased, and you baulked at his tone.

“How dare you, sir?” you defended. “There is no bacon here.”

Jensen laughed, a real laugh with crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes and his head thrown back, and you smiled back at him.

“Dig in,” you told him, uncapping the little tub of maple syrup. “It’s best if you just put everything together.”

“Syrup on eggs?” he questioned and you nodded as you took your first bite, groaning as the taste took you back to the few good memories that you had in the city.

“Syrup on eggs.”

*****

You took Jensen on a tour of the good memories that you had in Empire City - from the high school where you were scouted, to the bakery you’d started your birthday tradition at - and by the time you got back to the hotel Jensen felt like he knew you even better than he did before.

He had heard you talk about these places fleetingly over the past couple of years, however being there with you and seeing you interact with those places really let him in to your past.

You were woken up the next morning by a phone call, and you groaned as you answered your cell without fully opening your eyes.

“Mornin’,” you grunted, flopping back down into your pillows.

“Morning, princess,” Jared laughed lightly. “What’s your room number? Gonna send you up some breakfast.”

“214,” you yawned. “Grandpa’s gonna want OJ.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he replied fondly. “I’ll add OJ to the order.”

“Thanks, baby,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Can I call you back when I’m awaker?”

“That’s not a word,” he reminded you and you groaned. “Of course you can. Room service will be up in a few.”

“Love you,” you yawned again, finally sitting up.

“You too,” he told you. “Speak to you later.”

You hummed an agreement before hanging up the phone and stretching your arms above your head, revelling in the satisfying pop of your spine as you did so.

“Gen?” Jensen guessed of the phonecall, and you shook your head as you turned to face him.

“Jared,” you answered. “He’s sending us up some breakfast.”

Jensen nodded, reaching for his phone.

“Am I taking first shower?” you guessed, and he nodded again, making no attempt to even sit up.

*****

Jensen was in the bathroom when a knock came on the hotel room door, and you tossed your hairbrush onto the bed and grabbed a tip from your wallet before going to answer.

“Morning,” you smiled as you opened the door, the rest of the words dying in your throat as you took in what greeted you in the hallway.

Standing where you had expected a member of hotel staff to be with a breakfast cart was Jared Padalecki himself, your daughter in one arm and a large paper bag in the other.

“Oh, my God,” you breathed, reaching for your daughter and bringing her into your arms. “Oh, my God.”

“Mornin’,” Dallas smiled, placing a big kiss on your cheek.

Jared stepped past you into the room, taking the ten dollar bill from your hand and placing the bag on the desk.

"Thanks for the tip," Jared commented, and you laughed softly as you shifted your daughter onto your hip.

"Come here," you requested, and Jared stepped closer, letting you tuck his hair behind his ear. "I've missed you."

"We've missed you, too," he murmured as you brought him in for a kiss, ignoring the way that Dallas was wriggling to get down.

Jared kissed back, and you melted into the sense of 'home' that you got from just being near to him.

You relented, placing Dallas down on the bed and wrapping your arms around Jared to kiss him properly.

He smiled into the kiss, carding his hands into your hair.

"Grampa!" Dallas giggled, standing up on your bed as Jensen emerged from the bathroom, and you broke apart in time to see a grin grow on his face.

"Hey, gorgeous," he beamed, picking her up into a bear hug. "What're you doing here?"

"Daddy," Dallas explained, pointing to Jared as he stood beside you.

"We figured y'all could use some company the next couple days," Jared reasoned, and Jensen nodded, kissing your daughter's temple as she sat happily on his hip, resting her head on his shoulder.

"How's Gen?" you asked Jared as he started retrieving breakfast items from the bag he had brought with him, "And the boys?"

"They're doing good," he assured you, handing a pastry and an orange juice over to Jensen's free hand. "Everyone's just been missing you a whole lot.”

“We’ll be home soon,” you sighed. “Just gotta get Thursday out of the way, first.”

*****

You didn’t sleep properly on Wednesday night. Of course you didn’t. It was the night before your birth mother’s funeral and all you could think of was the terrible, terrible things that she put you through.

You had been staying in a family room with Jared and Dallas, but when you couldn’t sleep you made your way back to room 214.

Letting yourself in with your keycard, you made your way over to the bed you had used for the first few nights until Jensen’s voice stopped you.

“Come here,” he murmured groggily, making space for you in his bed.

You got in next to him, letting him place the covers over you.

“I’m getting too old to share the bed with my dad,” you argued weakly.

Jensen shook his head as he reached for your hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“Never,” he whispered. “Not as long as you need me.”

You smiled slightly as he pulled you closer, tucking your face into his neck.

“This time tomorrow it’ll all be over,” he reminded you, and you nodded against him. “Let’s get some rest, sweetheart.”

*****

Jensen, on your request, had arranged a notice to be put in the local paper of the time and location of your mother’s funeral. You wanted anyone who knew her and cared about her to be able to say goodbye properly.

Jared and Jensen were by your side all morning, sitting at the back of the service hall with you and Dallas as you watched a few people that you didn’t recognise settle in.

Five minutes before it was due to start you turned as the doors opened, tears prickling in your eyes as you saw Danneel enter the crematorium.

You got to your feet, walking towards her despite being desperate to run,.

“I’m here, baby,” she smiled sadly as you practically fell into her arms. “I’m here. We’re gonna be okay.”

“Thank you for coming,” you whispered.

Danneel kissed your head, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and leading you back into the room.

Jared and Jensen were stood with Dallas, meeting you in the aisle and moving to sit in the row behind the rest of the attendees so as not to be quite so far removed.

*****

A few people entered minutes after the short service started, but you kept looking straight forward, your arms wrapped around Dallas as she sat on your lap.

The whole thing was very generic - there were no readings of her favourite poems or eulogies by people that would miss her - and you were surprised to find yourself feeling absolutely nothing as her coffin was taken behind the curtain.

Once the service was over, Jared immediately took Dallas to a park as a treat for sitting so well while you and your parents stayed behind. You waited for everyone to leave before getting to your feet, smiling at Jensen and Danneel as they stood with you.

“You ready?” Jensen asked, and you nodded, letting Danneel take your hand and lead you out into the aisle.

You looked back at Jensen when you realised he wasn’t following you out of the row, and you found  him looking towards the doorway.

You turned to see what he was staring at, your mouth suddenly going dry as you saw a familiar man stood, watching you.

He waved slightly as he noticed you looking at him.

“Who is that?” Danneel asked quietly, but you didn’t respond.

You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts other than wondering what he was doing there and why he was waving like you were old friends.

Rather than replying, you walked straight towards the man, Jensen and Danneel following after sharing a look of confusion.

“Hi,” he breathed as you stopped in front of him. “It’s good to see you.”

You swallowed, folding your arms, and he faltered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if you know who I am,” he smiled awkwardly. “My name’s-”

“I know what your name is,” you interrupted. “I know who you are.”

He nodded, swallowing as you turned to your parents.

“This is the guy who knocked up my birth mom and then abandoned us both,” you told them, turning back to face him. “This… this is my father.” 

*****

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[inventors-fair]

Let’s Talk Flavor: Commentary

I would say overall that most of these cards were fantastic and a great number of the story ideas were good. There will be parts where I suggest edits, and the thing about story edits is, well, it doesn’t impact game design. That’s the thing about the Fair and the thing about Magic in general: the whole thing could be replicated with number systems and program lines and it would be the exact same. It’s the fact that a creature has Flying, or that a spell is made of Lightning that makes the game exciting. This was an interesting experiment. 

Let’s talk about cards!

@ace-hobo​ — Captain’s Wrench

This is a perfectly fine card. I like the “fixed” Voltaic Key style, the moderate power level. It’s a card that someone would probably be middling in artifact decks but fine in budget builds. I’m sort of feeling an Ixalan vibe, maybe with a little steampunkishness. I get that the wrench belongs to De, but it’s a little confusing regarding why they have the wrench. If they’re the captain and they’re not in the engine room, why is the card depicting a tool that would suit them better if they never left the engine room? Maybe the story should be about how DESPITE their captain status, they spend time in the engine room. It’s an easy enough tweak.

@cas-420 — Boiling Blood

The card is pretty good. It’s very aggressive and has synergistic potential. I really don’t see where the flavor is tying into it. I am favorably inclined towards your text, in concept. I can see where you were making the pun on “execution.” The wording is clunky with the repeated syntax, and could have just used the execution line. But what does that have to do with the card? The flavor evokes dissent, protest, retaliation. The flavor of the card evokes speed, purpose, initiative. It’s not a perfect tonal match. I would save the text for a different card with a clearer purpose

@dabudder​ — Wisdom of the Tides

In terms of card wording, I believe you’d be looking for something like Mysteries of the Deep, where you have an “instead” wording — unless you’re supposed to draw an additional card after? It’s a little confusing how you have it now. Still, Flourish is a fine mechanic, executed well. This was pretty close to being a runner-up. I like the nod towards crabs. We’ve been having a crab mood lately. Overall, not bad. Might need to be four mana, but that’s me being cautious.

@deafeningsandwichpeach​ — Jyska, Artificer Overlord

The name is probably the best thing about this card, and it’s fair enough for a legendary creature. Considering that this is essentially the Nim ability from original Mirrodin and that it’s a vanilla creature otherwise, I would contest that you’re severely overestimating the power level of this card. It’s not as strong as it seems. In terms of flavor text, this is basically exposition. I won’t dissuade you from story-rich cards, but there’s too much information presented in a manner that overloads the reader. Simplify, punch, beat, punctuate. In terms of presentation, the whole block should be in quotes, and you don’t need to attribute the quote if the character’s on the card itself.

@demimonde-semigoddess​ — Thaw

Great name, great snow flavor. I can see this in the tundra wastes, something emerging from the snow, bursting out. I had to do some digging. As it turns out, “gelid” is a real English word I had no idea about! I thought from the shackles and your flavor text that it was some Coldsnap lore. In terms of the text itself, it’s not bad. It’s just that the two statements are somewhat disconnected. They work both on their own, but together, they don’t gel well. Still, bonus points to mechanical flavor for an anti-ice feel.

@dimestoretajic​ — Phytotemple

The card is pretty funky for an uncommon, pushed but not busted. I’d call it a pain in the butt but no more than Wayfaring Temple. Ah, I see, the wayfarers, an homage. But there’s a lot I don’t understand. Who lost the wayfarers? Who’s saying this quote? Why did the phytotemples start appearing in general? Did the original wayfaring temples break into them? What does Selesnya have to do with construction crews? How is that related to the phytotemple’s physiology and motivation? Most importantly, why is there a street named after a Selesnya dissident? I think you should have focused on one specific area of the card’s backstory.

@emmypupcake — Bloom Nurturer

I was really surprised that there wasn’t a card already named this. In terms of card wording, look at High Tide or Bubbling Muck; I think it would read “Until end of turn, whenever you tap a Forest for mana, add an additional G.” The quote doesn’t light my world on fire, but it fits well and reads well. Just remember to indent the attribution with shift+enter. Overall? Good enough.

@fractured-infinity​ — Shara, Skalla Vengeant

I had to do a little digging, but I like how you incorporated Vivien’s lore in here. That said, Skalla is also, well, destroyed, presumably forever. Where did the spirit come from? Is it wandering around Skalla? In that case, did Vivien go back? Why? That raises a couple questions. In terms of this card, it’s broken. In anything but the most pushed Commander formats, it’s three mana to deal seven damage to any creature you want with minimal repercussions. Any prevention makes her impossible to deal with. In limited, she would sweep unfairly.

@ghost31415926535 — Man-Eater Wurm

Firstly, I would like to apologize for the flavor bar being in the middle of the line. That’s my bad. Let’s talk about the rest of the card. In concept, it shouldn’t be too overpowered. But deathtouch and trample together create complex rules baggage that many casual players simply don’t understand. Nine times out of ten, they’ll never be printed together. Seeing that this is exactly how you submitted it, consider for next time: Only the first keyword needs to be capitalized in a string. Something like Unearth needs its own line. The flavor text is standard enough. Just remember that quote attribution also needs its own line.

@gollumni​ — Gives You Hell

I love the name here. I got that All-American Rejects song stuck in my head now. Remember that one? Anyway. Firstly, you don’t need to put “target” there; “Enchant creature” implies it. Secondly, and least importantly, don’t forget you can add watermarks in MSE! Thirdly, the flavor text. I get it, but it doesn’t flow great. If there was some wordplay to be done on fire-spitting and whatever turn of phrase you used, like, “spitting poison” in the literal sense — I don’t know, I just expect something a little more concise. It’s a great concept and has the potential to be very funny, so points there. Also, the card itself? Fantastic.

@greensunzenith​ — Decorated Demon

Liking the name. I don’t like how this card has to be a rare. It’s more of an annoyance than anything. It feels like a card that prevents decisions. It’s not aggressive, nor is it particularly interactive. Conceptually it works, but I’m not in favor. The flavor text is a bit of a head-scratcher. The real question is: who is giving demons sigils? How do they become redeemed? On what world CAN demons become redeemed? This isn’t a Bant thing, is it? I’m a little lost as to the specifics, since it doesn’t play into any tropes and doesn’t inform the world in a recognizable way.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ — Goblin Decorator

If the flavor text had simply been, in quotes, “Earwigs would go so well with that wallpaper!”, then this card could have been a runner-up. Also, this should definitely be an uncommon. The effect is awesome and powerful and annoying and plays into a variety of strategies. Still, the flavor text is just...too much. It’s a lot of text that tells a story that doesn’t really need to be told. We get enough from the name and that last sentence, combined with a fun ability that matches the card. That’s all we need! Gotta simplify.

@ignorantturtlegaming​ — Dust, Revenant Force

For future cards, I would highly recommend reading up on design philosophy, what Magic’s colors are about, and how cards come into being. There are a lot of questions that this card raises, and a lot of things that need to be edited.

Green doesn’t get first strike, certainly not mono-green.

Why does this card cost five green mana? What does it provide for the limited/constructed environment?

It should be “Fox Warrior.”

The first thing about the flavor text is that there is far too much of it. It’s exposition for exposition’s sake. Fine in a high fantasy short story, but not on a Magic card.

The second thing about the flavor text is that Dust appears to be a white-aligned character through their actions and themes. I don’t feel anything green about them.

@juggernaut-is-a-metalhead — Devil’s Payment

I’m going easy on card art attribution since, well, it’s Disney and they are indeed evil, but in the future, please attribute it to the show itself and/or the director/copyright holder. So, the card itself. Is it supposed to be a common? Is it an homage to Cruel Bargain and Infernal Contract? This certainly isn’t a common effect, and for one mana, well, I don’t know what to say about this card. In terms of the flavor text, why is everything separated in lines like a poem? It’s way too long to fit into a card with three lines of rules text already. I don’t really understand what it’s even trying to say. The devil asked for the MAN’S youth. What does that has to do with his own? And why is it only sometimes capitalized? I don’t really understand this at all.

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Hidden Bombardier

Great name. For the card text, it’s powerful, arguably fine in the right format, but very strong regardless. It also needs to say “It deals 3 damage” instead of just “Deal.” Gotta get past the 90′s, erryone. So now, the flavor text... I kinda get it? I just don’t understand what makes this card a shapeshifter. I don’t understand the world in which shapeshifters exist. This card feels like a Goblin. It’s an interesting kamikaze take, if a little too flowery and on-the-nose. It doesn’t exactly inform me, and it doesn’t exactly excite me.

@mardu-lesbian​ — Ballynock Adoptee

I had to look up to make sure that there were dwarfs on Lorwyn, and by golly, you’re right, there are! In RW hybrid in Eventide, anyway. And that brings up to a major story problem. By the introduction of dwarfs, the world has already plunged into Shadowmoor, and the thoughtweft has already been replaced with the mindweft. I’m stealing this from the wiki, so berate me if I’m wrong, but I always got the sense that the kithkin were highly xenophobic regardless of where the Great Aurora was. The jarring question that remains is: how does a non-kithkin creature become part of the thoughtweft/mindweft? It goes against what we know about the Kithkin and the world in general. If there’s a good explanation, I’m all ears, but I’m not convinced at this point in time.

@mistershinyobject​ — Phenax’s Messenger

Bonus judge trivia time: I studied Latin in high school and a little in college. From what I can tell about The Callapheia from other cards bearing it’s flavor text, it is meant to evoke classical poetry from Greek and Latin epics. The lines are written four at a time, indented carefully. HERE is a link to all cards with “Callapheia” in the flavor text. The gist is, this card does NOT evoke that. There’s a lot of text, a lot of quotes, a lot of forced story that could have been way punchier if you just had stuff about a snake eating a prophet. I love the card as a limited filler. But yeah, gotta do more research into what it means to have certain aspects on your cards.

@nicolbolas96​ — Unpredictable Betrayal

You know, it’s hard to evoke Nicol Bolas well in flavor text. He’s one of Magic’s major villains, a huge face of many sets, with years behind him. And honestly? You didn’t do a half-bad job in this flavor text. Props! That said, this card is way busted. For one, double strike doesn’t affect fighting at all, so that’s...something. For two, it would need to be three sentences; you did a run-on for that last one. For three, mechanically? This is a two-mana spell that eight times out of ten will absolutely destroy two creatures you don’t control. In limited, that’s insanely powerful. In any format that plays creatures, that’s usually amazingly good. There’s a reason spells like Blood Feud and Clash of Titans cost what they cost. Getting two creatures you don’t control to fight is powerful.

@nine-effing-hells​ — Cairn to Athusis

Actually, this card was one of my favorites from the contest. I’m a heavy Gruul player when I’m not playing cruel control, and I think the gist of this card is super interesting. You made it an enchantment artifact AND a shrine, giving flavor there as well to your new world. The only thing I would have changed is erasing that first sentence from your flavor text entirely. The second is so powerful that it stands on its own. It’s poetic without being overwrought, specific to the world and building off of known tropes. Also, it tells us that “orcs are RG in this world” which is a great mechanical touch. Just needed that little bit of trimming.

@real-aspen-hours​ — Deflect Consequences

Now this is an interesting card!... What practical use does it have? I’m curious what this has on something like Harmless Offering. I don’t believe that cast triggers will be affected. Maybe it would specifically go against things like “counter target spell you don’t control” or something, but if control changes... I’m uncertain of this card’s applications past the gimmick point. That said, it would be fun to cast a Leveler and have it enter the battlefield under an opponent’s control. I’m not in love with the flavor text. It’s fine. Doesn’t light my world on fire. A touch wordy. But it’s fine. Fits the name and the ability well, so that’s nice.

@reaperfromtheabyss​ — Inconquerable Alseid

Besides the fact that “Hope” should be lowercase and separated by a colon, the flavor text is really cool! I don’t like this card much. It’s honestly fine, and it’s an interesting commander card that could lead to some cool consequences, but there’s a reason Undaunted has reminder text. It doesn’t look good floating there by itself. There are some abilities that just need reminder text all the time, and Undaunted is on so few cards that it significantly needs this. I think I was a little too harsh on this card on my first go-around, but I haven’t warmed up to it yet. I think the great flavor could have been used on a simpler, more protective card.

@scavenger98​ — Kadalla the Scornful

I’m 99% sure it should go “First strike, deathtouch, haste.” Order of keywords is weird sometimes. So are creature types. I don’t really understand the world on which an Elf can be Mardu colors. It’s a stretch of the imagination to say the least. The card itself is...fine? I’d honestly make her an uncommon in today’s world. Yeah, she’s powerful, but she’s a 2/1 for three with all different mana symbols. Regarding the flavor, it’s well-worded, but it’s lengthy and doesn’t actually tell us anything about the character or the world. It doesn’t inform the card, and that’s its major misstep. Again, though, good writing.

@shandylamb​ — Multani’s Offspring

A fine card, a funny flavor. Just so you know, though, “Saproling” is pretty much only relegated to the token, and this card would probably see print as a plant or fungus. And additionally, as nice as the pun is... What’s this card even trying to say in the story? Multani’s only known child is Muldrotha, and that’s deep lore as-is. As funny as this card might be, it really doesn’t mesh with a Magic feel.

@starch255​ — Unscrupulous Horpske 

There are only two things I’m concerned about. Firstly: what about this creature makes it “unscrupulous?” What scruples does it have normally in its species? Secondly, this card is trying to make potato salad canon in the multiverse, and I don’t know if such a travesty would be allowed to happen. Potato salad is an affront to taste, no offense to the horpske.

Literally everything else about this card is a 10/10. I would also encourage you to work on a set symbol. Everyone should!

@teaxch​ — Hidden Seers

Interesting. So what timeline is this? Is this supposed to be, like, a return to Tarkir? Cool concept, I think, although I’m not entirely sold. After hearing the shaman’s whispers, why is Surrak’s first instinct to assume that without dragons a human would lead the clan? Wouldn’t the thought of a world without dragons evoke other thoughts and fears first? That’s my main hand-iffy-motion reason. This is also a supremely petty nitpick, probably the pettiest thing I’ve ever said about a card, but if this is the Dragon timeline then wouldn’t the watermark be the Atarka one instead of the Temur one?

@tmstage​ — Apostasy

Everything about this card is good...individually. Great name, but what does that have to do with the ability? What is it trying to depict? What does shuffling your library have to do with religious dogma? And the flavor text feels overbearing. Nykita as a character is someone I’d like to know more about, but this card doesn’t tell me much about her. It’s mostly that the mechanics and the flavor don’t mesh in the least, and, well, it’s not a good mechanic. Shuffling is time-consuming, game-prolonging, and has no discernible benefit to the game outside of incredibly niche cards that mostly don’t affect you as the player. And the more I read the flavor text, the less it makes sense. “Allow the world to deform your flawed notions?” It sounds awesome, but what does it mean?

~

Thank you all for your submissions. New contest tomorrow. 

[breakingarrows]

Stealing this from twitter, one of those 1 like = 1 video game answer

1. Very first video game

I have hazy memories of playing Sonic on the Genesis and if not that then most likely Pokemon Red? Twisted Metal is the oldest game I own that I didn’t buy myself and just always had so maybe that one.

2. Your favorite character

God gotta be Geralt. It is hard to separate his Witcher 3 iteration from the books, which is probably the best compliment I can give CDPR’s adaptation as the more I read the books the more I appreciate how faithful that game was. Geralt’s the typical grumpy dad who puts on a show of having no emotion but really does care about others and frequently acts on that (no need to read into how that reflects myself).

3. A game that is underrated.

Tough because underrated as in metacritic or just in general like mass audience reactions? I think overrated would be an easier pick for metacritic but for mass audience underrated I would say something like Disco Elysium since it was PC only and even there seems to have found a small but dedicated niche audience. I would also say Rain World but honestly need to play more.

4. Your guilty pleasure game.

LA Noire, Alan Wake, Alien Isolation, games people are mostly either like, that was okay or didn’t like but I really love.

5. Game character you feel you are most like (or wish you were)

Damn guess its time to admit how Geralt reflects myself.

6. Most annoying character.

Got some classics like Navi (OOT), Dutch/Micah (RDR2), Ryder (GTASA), I feel like there are more good ones but I can’t find/trigger their memories.

7. Favorite game couple.

Geralt and Yennefer (Witcher), Red and her unnamed lover (Transistor), Harry and Kim (Disco Elysium)

8. Best soundtrack.

Fuck. Hyper Light Drifter, Final Fantasy VII, DOOM, Transistor, Halo Reach/ODST, Red Dead Redemption, Kingdom Hearts, Alien Isolation, LA Noire. Licensed: Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1, 2, 3, Fallout 3/New Vegas (even if they repeat way too often).

9. Saddest game scene.

Ending of Crisis Core, death of Avalanche members in Final Fantasy VII, ending of Red Dead Redemption, ending of Transistor, saying goodbye to Clementine in The Walking Dead Season 1.

10. Best gameplay.

Titanfall 2, DOOM, Hitman, Halo 5 (Arena multiplayer only), Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3 (revert is king), Metroid Prime (on Wii).

11. Gaming system of choice.

PS4/3/PC in that order

12. A game everyone should play.

Disco Elysium, Bioshock 2, Rain World, Yakuza 5, Final Fantasy Tactics (either PSOne Classic or War of the Lions)

13. A game you’ve played more than five times.

lol full playthroughs Uncharted 2: Among Thieves, DOOM. Games I’ve started and made significant progress in so many times: Final Fantasy VII, Modern Warfare 2, Alan Wake, Red Dead Redemption, Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, LA Noire, Halo Reach, Final Fantasy Tactics The War of the Lions

14. current (or most recent) gaming wallpaper.

Wallpapers on phone have been Evangelion for years now. The rotating desktop wallpaper folder only has Alien Isolation because of how much it looks like Alien and Breath of the Wild because of how much it looks like Ghibli landscapes.

15. Post a screenshot from a game you’re playing right now.

It would be something from Apex (a win screen) or Red Dead Redemption 2 (landscape)

16. Game with the best cutscenes.

God most games have cutscenes that are really boring (shot, reverse-shot, in-game engine puppets, black bar zoom ins, economical choices because of how often they’re going to be used but so boring) so I guess Control because its got styyyyyyle.

17. Favorite antagonist.

uhhhhh the greater structure of the world in Disco Elysium? Human opponents in Apex Legends. The rain in Rain World. Tenpenny in Grand Theft Auto San Andreas. Xenomorph in Alien Isolation.

18. Favorite protagonist.

I mean Geralt (Witcher), Alan Wake (the titular Alan Wake), Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium), Red (Transistor), John Marston (Red Dead Redemption), CJ (Grand Theft Auto San Andreas), DOOMGUY (DOOM), Jesse Faden (Control)

19. Picture of a game setting you wished you lived in

Most of video game worlds are trying to kill you but Breath of the Wild, San Andreas, Kingdom Hearts, Morrowind

20. Favorite genre

Seems to be shooters, some open world if the angle is good.

21. Game with the best story.

Story as in fiction? Disco Elysium. Story as in the thing its trying to sell you on as you play? The Last of Us, Bioshock 2, Transistor.

22. A game sequel which disappointed you.

Not technically a sequel but Bioshock Infinite, Red Dead Redemption 2, Fallout 4, Metal Gear Solid V, Uncharted 4, Halo 5, Infamous Second Son

23. Game you think had the best graphics or art style

Persona 5, Disco Elysium (those portraits jesus so good), Shadow of the Colossus (PS2 version, the fog and unfocused edges make it such a #mood), Morrowind (I love the fucking early 2000s 3D graphics), Final Fantasy VII (the pre-rendered backgrounds, I could star at them for days), Control, Hyper Light Drifter, any of those Yoshi art games (crayon of Yoshi’s Island and fuzz of Wooly World are standouts)

24. Favorite Classic game

Pokemon Gold, Link’s Awakening, Doom, Final Fantasy VII/Tactics, Spider-Man

25. A game you plan on playing

boy I have a whole spreadsheet for this on but the one on my mind is Okami, Alpha Protocol, Madworld

26. Best voice acting

uh idk the expensive games, Red Dead Redemption 2, The Last of Us?

27. Most epic scene ever

when I get a win in Apex Legends with like 8+ kills overall

28. Favorite game developer

Remedy Entertainment, Respawn, uh hard to find consistency, most of my favorites have been one-offs where I either haven’t played or don’t really like the rest that developer made.

29. A game you thought you wouldn’t like, but ended up loving.

I usually don’t play games I don’t think I would like because I know my tastes and don’t waste time but I guess something like Hitman was a surprise because I had heard all the praise about it long before I finally sat down to play it myself and it was fucking great.

30. Your favorite game of all time.

God uh I mean I’ve been returning to games like Uncharted 2, Final Fantasy VII, San Andreas for like a decade now. Pokemon Gold too if I would finally buy the stuff to replace the battery in it. So I guess one of those since they’ve been part of my life the longest.

[bevioletskies]

all the stars (are closer) [1/5]

summary: Scott is a washed-up comedy actor and an ex-convict, unable to find enough work to pay child support. Hope is a famous action star and the daughter of one of Hollywood’s most beloved couples, still struggling with the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death. When Hope’s estranged father casts them in his directorial debut, a romantic drama with a script that’s more truth than fiction, they find themselves tangled in a mysterious conspiracy that just might explain what really happened to Janet Van Dyne all those years ago.

a/n: Fic title is from the song All The Stars by Kendrick Lamar (with SZA).

word count: 4.4k | ao3 | tag

To the surprise of practically no one who’d known him in his childhood and his awkward adolescence, Scott went into comedic acting soon after graduating university (with a master’s in engineering, no less), having spent many of his late nights doing stand-up instead of studying for exams. To the surprise of nearly everyone, however, he then went on to become moderately famous.

“He was always better at making me laugh than making me cry. Well, until the end,” his ex-wife Maggie had said with a bittersweet smile on a morning talk show once. She was an actress as well, often erroneously underappreciated in supporting roles, and was now engaged to a man who was known for guest-starring on every cop procedural that was still airing long beyond its expiry date.

Maggie hadn’t been talking about their divorce, exactly, but rather, the cause of it - Scott had spent three years in jail for trying to expose a crime ring inside the film industry that no one wanted to admit existed, three years of their daughter’s life he could never get back. His career had also come to a complete standstill ever since, and though he’d made half-hearted attempts at a comeback, he never seemed to be able to make it to where he had been.

“You gotta do something different here, Lang,” his agent had said to him after the third movie premiere in a row in which he’d spent most of it mulling over how much of his paycheck had gone to child support. “Look, there’s a director who’s been chasing me down, wants you to read for a part. It’s not your usual, though - romantic drama, Oscar bait, whatever you wanna call it. He’s already got his lead actress. You know Hope Van Dyne?”

Scott promptly jolted out of his apathy-induced haze. “What?”

Hope was the result of a rare Hollywood happy ending, the daughter of two silver screen icons who had been staples of drama films in their prime and had gotten married after working together and discovering a mutual secret love of science. They later started a scientific research foundation together as an anniversary gift for the world, focusing on funding biological innovation and children’s education programs. It was declared the Hope for Science Foundation during the opening ceremony, where the two of them posed for pictures and talked to reporters while cradling their newborn daughter in their arms.

It hadn’t all been picture-perfect though, as her mother had died in a plane crash when she was seven. Her father’s last role had him playing a surly but well-intentioned detective, with one particular scene that critics loved where a six-year-old Hope had appeared as his character’s daughter. No one had heard from him ever since. When Hope started appearing in action movies in her twenties with a dozen martial arts credentials and her mother’s last name instead of her father’s, rumors followed her everywhere she went. In short, she was the last person whose name Scott had expected to hear.

“Be careful when you meet her, alright? Everyone says she’s...intense.” His agent made a face. Scott was too stunned to make any sort of face in return.

For one reason or another, Scott found himself standing outside the director’s house a week later, debating whether to ring the doorbell, knock on the door, or turn right around and never come back. The decision was made for him when someone walked up beside him, rapped their knuckles sharply on the door, then stepped back and promptly directed their attention to their phone. He turned to stare incredulously at Hope herself, dressed in a smart pantsuit far nicer than his button-up shirt and jeans, making no attempt to acknowledge his presence.

“Hello,” he said rather stupidly. She didn’t respond. “I’m, uh, I’m Scott. It’s nice to...nice to meet you.” More silence. “Y’know, my agent didn’t even tell me anything about the director or the movie, so I don’t...really know what I’m doing here?”

“Is that a question?” she said shortly. Her voice was softer than he remembered from the handful of movies he’d seen her in, but there was a bite in her tone that made him wince.

“No, I really don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admitted, chuckling awkwardly. She seemed unamused. “But you gotta know something, right? And that was a question,” he added at her pointed eyebrow raise.

She suddenly shoved her phone in her pocket and pushed past him to open the door, which had apparently been unlocked the whole time, barely waiting for him to follow. “Hank is waiting for us in the sitting room.”

“Wait,” Scott called after her, hastily shutting the door behind him once he’d stepped inside. “Who?”

The first thing he noticed was how eccentric the house was, looking every bit as old-fashioned as its exterior had been, with Victorian-style furniture, elaborate wallpaper and wainscotting, and dimly-lit lamps in every corner that made it feel more like an atmospheric showroom than an actual home. It took him another few seconds to notice that Hope clearly knew her way around, striding down the hall and through a series of doorways until they finally came to a stop in a room occupied by another man.

Scott did a double-take at the sight of the man - he was notably older than any director Scott had ever worked with, well-dressed in a wool sweater vest, slacks, and a tie, peering at them through his translucent-rimmed glasses with a piercing gaze. What was most notable, however, was the fact that he was definitely Hope’s estranged father.

“Hank,” Hope said neatly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Hope. Would it kill you to call me ‘Dad’?” Hank let out a world-weary sigh, sinking into the plush armchair behind him and gesturing for them both to sit on the fainting couch opposite. Hope immediately sat down; Scott was still looking at him dumbfoundedly. “Mr. Lang, I see you’ve already met my daughter.”

“Yeah, uh, she’s great,” Scott said, turning to look at her. She was already back on her phone. He turned back and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Pym, huge fan of your work - ”

“It’s ‘Doctor’ now, Scott. Spent my early retirement putting my mind to good use.” Instead of accepting Scott’s proffered hand, he gestured toward the bookcases behind him, practically bursting at the seams with volumes on things like quantum physics, time displacement, and other topics far beyond Scott’s master’s degree. “Sit down.”

Scott finally took a seat, sheepishly tucking his rejected hand away. “Sorry - Dr. Pym, I didn’t realize you were directing now.”

Hope scoffed. “You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Tell me - ” Scott glanced between them, but neither seemed interested in making eye contact with each other. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“To make a long story short, I need more than just a good performance out of you.” Hank leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at Scott so intently he could feel his ears burning. “What can you tell us about the Ghost conspiracy?”

Scott groaned, leaning back to rub his eyes; he could feel a headache coming on already. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. No disrespect to you, Dr. Pym, but I left all that behind me the second I got out of jail. Besides, they had me sign a bunch of agreements not to talk about it, it was all very legal. Even if I wanted to talk about my theories, I can’t.”

“But it’s not just a theory, is it? It’s real, all of it,” Hank insisted. “People were disappearing and - ”

“Almost thirty years later and you still can’t let this go.” Hope finally put her phone away so she could narrow her eyes at her father. “We have more important things to be focusing on, Hank. Dragging in a has-been who might know something about this stupid cult theory just to feed your obsession over Mom’s death is a new low, even by your standards.”

“Don’t you talk about your mother like that,” Hank growled, suddenly rounding on her. “Show some respect.”

“Fine. Then we can go back to not talking at all,” she replied. She got to her feet and promptly turned to walk right out of the house, her heels clicking sharply against the glossy wood floors. Hank sighed, sinking further into his chair, making no move to go after her.

Scott, who was trapped in an unpleasant combination of feeling utterly confused, awkward, and shocked all at once, slowly stood as well. “There’s no movie, is there?”

“There is,” Hank said resignedly. “And I need both of you, more than you could ever know.” ______

Scott barely slept at all that night, staring up at the ceiling with everything he knew and everything he thought he knew rolling around in his brain. He had only stayed at Hank’s house for another few minutes, hoping to get a clearer picture of what exactly he was expecting from him, but Hank had only said that he would get in touch when they were ready. Scott wasn’t sure if “they” really included Hope, given that her car was long gone by the time he walked out of the house. She seemed about as interested in entertaining Hank’s schemes as she was in...well, just about anything else.

Still, Scott found himself on a sunny San Francisco backlot three weeks later, sitting in a hair and makeup trailer with the air conditioning blasting comfortably through his unwashed hair. He had signed a contract after it had been extensively combed through by his lawyer, and a script had finally been mailed to him last night, though he knew its importance was secondary to Hank’s true intentions.

If Hank and Hope were even just a little bit less intimidating, Scott would have turned down both the movie and the mystery, but he had to admit - if nothing else, he was intrigued. Neither of them seemed to be able to talk about Janet beyond using her as a weapon against one another, and he couldn’t blame them. He remembered how he could barely bring himself to talk about Cassie during the first few months of his incarceration, how he couldn’t bear the thought of how much he’d disappointed her. He had wondered if she would want to see him after he got out, if she would want to remember him at all.

The sharp bang of the trailer door being flung open startled Scott right out of his thoughts (and his chair). He glanced in the mirror to watch Hope walk in and sit down in the seat beside him. The assistants immediately began to panic, scrambling to dig through their kits and find what they needed for her. Hope remained as disinterested as ever, silently sipping on her coffee and scrolling through her text messages.

“Morning,” Scott chirped. She side-eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t done a table read or pre-production or...y’know, anything?”

“Hank invests his time and money into what he wants, not what’s actually needed,” she replied, her tone dry. “If you were expecting this shoot to be like anything you’ve ever done before, you clearly don't understand what’s really going on here.”

“I don’t, because neither of you are telling me anything,” he pointed out. “And I’m not an expert on this stuff. There are probably a dozen people out there more qualified to help him than me, why can’t he just ask around?”

Hope glanced briefly at the makeup assistants still rooting around the bottoms of their bags for products, then leaned in close, her mouth nearly brushing against Scott’s ear. He shivered. “Hank hasn’t been focusing on the real problem that I went to him for. There’s a man determined to blacklist him permanently from every connection and every social circle he’s ever had, ruin his reputation, and deplete my family of the fortune that my parents built. He only knows this because I told him, which is why he has to be discreet. He also thinks solving the conspiracy will somehow stop this from happening. I think he’s really lost it this time.”

“So who is this guy?” Scott asked quietly. “Why does he have it out for Hank?”

“Darren Cross was a would-be protégé of his. Child actor he met during the filming of his very last movie...the one that I was in, too.” Hope leaned back in her chair to look at her own reflection in the mirror, eyes glazing over as she became lost in thought. “When...when Mom died, Hank left everything behind, including his promise to Darren that he’d take him under his wing. He couldn’t handle being abandoned.”

“What happened to him after that?” Scott pressed.

She let out a quiet, harsh laugh. “Among other things, he became the CEO of my parents’ foundation. It was poetic to the public, but what it really was? It turned out that a mutual spite for Hank was a negotiation point for starting a business relationship between us, and so I made it happen. I was the one who put Darren in that position.” Her head bowed. “I made us vulnerable.”

Scott blinked. “I’m so confused.”

Hope sighed, rolling her eyes so hard he suspected she would have pulled something had she not likely done it thousands of times before. “Try to keep up, I’m not here to babysit you. I’m here to help Hank.”

“Really? Because it kinda sounds like it’s the last thing you wanna do.”

“He abandoned me right after Mom died. Since then, he’s only come back into my life a few times, and usually not by choice.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want to believe the things he believes, but...part of me wants to entertain the idea that somewhere, somehow...she’s still alive.” ______

The end of the fourteen-hour shoot left Hope half-collapsed in the driver’s seat of her car, completely and utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. She knew Scott was familiar with her work, but she knew nothing of his - comedy had never been a draw to her, not when her life had been so deprived of it. Her expectations for him had been low, and she’d made that obvious from the beginning, but what actually happened in front of the cameras left her silently impressed. Still, it didn’t make his presence any easier to accept.

She had been eighteen when she’d agreed to meet with Hank in person for the first time since her mother’s death, with every other encounter being expertly maneuvered by lawyers or assistants or any other number of sneak tactics he’d used to attempt reconciliation, to no avail. He’d told her about the Ghost conspiracy, showed her all the news clippings and redacted documents and photographs he’d collected, telling her it was likely Janet had gotten too close to the truth and had been taken from them as a result. Hope then spent the rest of her life holding steadfast to the plane crash that everyone believed to be true, mostly out of spite. However, six months ago, she ended up calling him with a new proposal, because now, they were racing against the clock.

“Darren wants to cut off all program funding and shut down the Foundation, start it from scratch with his name on the side of the building,” she had said to him over the phone. “He wants to discredit you, blame you for Mom’s death, and...he’s been siphoning money elsewhere. Offshore bank accounts, shell companies, things I can’t trace myself, but I know it’s happening. We have to stop him before this turns into something bigger than just us.”

Hank had paused; even after all their years apart, she could still picture him narrowing his eyes in contemplation. “What is he up to?”

“I wish I knew.” Hope had pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers in agitation. “I’ve caught glimpses of his phone and his work desktop - emails, invoices, redacted documents - but I don’t know where to begin. I...I need your help, Hank.”

Another pause. Then, “I think I found a guy.”

She had blinked. “...who?”

A sharp knock-knock-knock on the passenger door window promptly pulled Hope out of her reverie. She flinched further when she realized who it was. “Oh, god.”

Scott shot her a bright smile, though even he was starting to look exhausted as well. “Hank wants to do a nightcap at his house, said he wanted to go over the details.”

“Of course he does,” she said bitingly. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.”

“I, uh, I don’t suppose I could get a ride with you, could I?” he asked, his grin turning into something more sheepish. “I’m still not clear to get a driver’s license yet, I’ve been taking ride services ever since - ”

“ - ever since you got out of jail,” Hope interrupted. Her eyes were narrowing more and more by the second. “Just get in before I change my mind.”

The drive to Hank’s was uncomfortably silent for the first few minutes, though she could tell he was itching to talk, his fingers drumming an irregular pattern against the windowsill. “So that was, uh...that was something.”

“What was?” she said shortly.

“O-kay, never mind,” he mumbled to himself. For the first time since she’d met him, he almost seemed embarrassed.

She cleared her throat, feeling a mild sense of pity for him that she was sure would pass. “It was definitely...different. But we both know the movie isn’t what matters here.”

“Right, but we still have to do the whole - ” he waved his hand aimlessly “ - the shoot, post-prod, press, y’know, the usual. Unless Hank decides to shelve the project if we get this done first.”

Hope suddenly slammed on the brakes without warning, causing Scott to jolt forward. All the air was knocked out of his lungs from the tug of his seatbelt, causing him to wheeze; she ignored him. “Why are you even getting involved? You could’ve easily walked away from all of this.”

“Well…” He paused for a moment, partially to think about what he felt and what she wanted to hear, but mostly to cough and catch his breath. “...you have to understand, Hope, I don’t get a lot of options or opportunities these days. It’s hard to find work of any kind as an ex-con, let alone in an industry as messed up as this one. So, after listening to Hank and listening to you, I mean, how could I not help, especially if I’m the only one who can? That’s how I felt the first time I got involved, and that’s how I feel now. If I can figure out this weird conspiracy that’s been haunting me for the last six years, I can prove to my ex and my daughter that I didn’t do what I did for nothing.”

She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat, so low that Scott nearly missed it. It almost sounded sympathetic. “I...almost forgot about your daughter. I know all about Maggie, but...I guess you both kept her out of the public eye. That’s not what my parents did with me.” She lowered her gaze to the steering wheel, unable to look at him. “What’s her name?”

“Cassie.”

“It’s a pretty name.” Hope, to Scott’s surprise, cracked a small smile. “If you want what’s best for Cassie, you might want to start by protecting yourself first. You may be sure about what happened to you in the past, but you have no idea what’s about to happen in the future. None of us do.”

He shrugged. “Sounds like an adventure.”

Hope snorted, shaking her head, though it seemed more playful than it had before. She let go of the brake to step on the gas again, still smiling as she pulled the car back onto the road. ______

After the excessively long discussion at Hank’s house, where, to Scott’s disappointment, Hope fell back onto her stone-faced stoicism and strong contempt for her father, Scott took a car home, not wanting to bother her further. His mind was still reeling from everything they’d talked about, all the (legal) details he’d shared, all the information Hank had, all the interruptions Hope made to remind them of the more immediate issue at hand. Ten minutes into the ride, Scott leaned forward to gently tap on the plexiglass and request that the driver make a detour.

He found himself standing on the doorstep of a house far nicer than his, in a gated community he had once known. It was only a few blocks over from where he and Maggie used to live when they were together, a step-up from the crappy apartment they had when they were first starting out, young and fresh-faced and naïve. He took a deep breath, then rang the doorbell.

A moment passed before someone answered, the door swinging open sharply. To Scott’s dismay, it was Paxton, Maggie’s fiancé, staring him down in complete disbelief. Scott grimaced. “Hey, man. Is my daughter home?”

Paxton scoffed. “You’re not supposed to be here, Lang.”

“I know, I know. I just...it’s been a long day, and I thought I would stop by and say hello. Can I at least do that?” Scott pleaded.

The decision seemed to be made for Paxton, however, as there was a sudden pattering of a little girl’s footsteps thundering down the hallway, and she practically barreled right into Scott’s side with a delighted squeal. “Daddy!” Cassie shrieked.

Scott let out a sigh of relief, crouching down and melting into her embrace, instantly soothed by the feeling of her face burrowed in his neck. He then pulled back a little so they were eye-to-eye. “Hey, peanut,” he said softly. “Been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“For good reason,” Paxton coughed, though he stepped aside so Scott could cross the threshold and get into the house. “I’ll tell Maggie you’re here.”

“Wait, no, don’t - ” Paxton disappeared up the stairs before Scott could stop him. Scott groaned, looking back to Cassie, who merely shrugged. “So what’ve you been up to? All kinds of trouble, I bet.”

“No way,” she protested. “I’ve been super good. Mommy said so.”

“That’s good,” Scott murmured, cupping her face in both hands so he could push her hair out of her face. She was a little taller than she’d been the last time he’d seen her, though her eyes were just as big and round and expressive as ever. He then realized she was wearing the pyjamas he’d bought and sent her last Christmas, which he had wrongly assumed Maggie had just thrown out before Cassie ever realized they existed. “Hey, uh, I’ve been working on a new movie. I’m not really sure if you’ll be old enough to watch it when it comes out, but it’s different than the stuff I usually do. And I’ve got some...interesting people I’m working with.”

“Int’resting how?” she asked.

“It’s a father-daughter team. Just like you and me,” he replied, poking her playfully in the stomach, causing her to giggle. “What do you think, peanut? You wanna act with me someday, too?”

“Scott, let our daughter have a normal life, please.” He glanced up to see Maggie standing at the top of the stairs, her arms folded across her chest defensively. Paxton was hovering at her back, glancing between them like he was watching a tennis match.

“How can I? Have you seen the house you guys live in?” Scott remarked. “What’s the mortgage like?”

“I’m not here to argue with you, Scott. I am here to remind you that you can’t just come by whenever you feel like it,” she said, furrowing her brow at him. “And it’s late. Cassie has to be in bed in fifteen minutes, she has gymnastics tomorrow.”

“Wait - I brought you something.” Scott pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to her. She made her way down the stairs to take it, eyeing it suspiciously as if she expected it to explode, and carefully pried it open. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

“Scott, this is - ”

“Six months’ worth, yeah,” he nodded. “I know it’s nothing compared to what you guys make, but I just wanna do my part. I wanna do what’s right.”

“But where did this come from?” Maggie sputtered.

“I got an advance payment for the project I’m working on,” he explained. “Just started today, actually.”

“Daddy’s doing a movie. He says it’s diff’rent from his other stuff,” Cassie informed her, smiling toothily.

“Scott, if you’re getting involved in something immoral again - ”

“Illegal, even,” Paxton interjected. Scott couldn’t help but think he tended to forget that he only played a cop on TV.

“ - then I want no part in it, and I don’t want a single cent,” Maggie finished, turning to shoot Paxton a dirty look.

“I promise, it’s honest money. I’m going straight. I’ve been going straight for the past year,” Scott insisted. “I just meant ‘different’ as in ‘different genre’, okay, it’s nothing to be worried about! I’m turning it around, Maggie. I swear.”

“Well…” She sniffed, carefully tucking the cheque back into the envelope. “I’m not cashing it until I know you’re in the clear. So go home, Scott. I’ll call you later this week, we can talk more about this movie of yours then.”

“I’m shooting all week, so I’ll text you when I’m free instead,” he suggested.

“Fine,” she said, pursing her lips. Scott knelt to give Cassie a hug goodbye, sneaking in a quick kiss on the forehead despite knowing he was already pushing his luck. “Can you at least tell me the name of one of your co-stars or something? Just to, I don’t know, make it sound more legitimate?”

Scott paused, straightening up. “Hope Van Dyne.”

Maggie scoffed incredulously; Paxton made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat. “Hope Van Dyne, are you serious? Everything I’ve heard about her, all that stuff about her parents, I mean...she seems...intense.”

Scott glanced down at Cassie. She grinned, reaching to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, chuckling mostly to himself. “So I’ve been told.” ______

a/n: I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter AU for Scott/Hope for ages, but could never quite think of a concept that would suit them specifically. Then this popped into my head after watching the trailer for Once Upon A Time In Hollywood and remembering how much I enjoyed The Nice Guys, and here we are! I started a post-Endgame fic focusing on the Ant-fam a long time ago as well, but that'll probably come after this one is complete.

As you've probably noticed, this fic is going to mash up elements of both Ant-Man movies in different ways. It'll also go back and forth on the film industry aspect and the conspiracy hunt aspect, with some chapters focusing on one more than the other. Next chapter will be posted next Friday and I'm hoping to post this weekly. Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)

[autumnpawtribe]

Just a moment in time - Vol'raka, Tiny, and Xiao Chun

Tiny had finally started to sleep long enough for her Papa and Ba to spend some more intimate time together.  It was a time to relax, and love, come together as a couple after so long apart.  Xiao laid against Vol, nuzzling into his neck in return to the trolls affections. "I love you so much, Vol... more than I ever thought I could." He whispered breathlessly still before giving a tiny chuckle. "I... did not hurt you, did I?" He finally asked, turning his head to kiss Vol's cheek and then gently press a kiss to his lips as he nuzzled their foreheads together. "No mah love."  He looked a bit sad that he hadn't been hurt, but kissed his mate on the top of the head softly.  "Ah be fine."  A soft chuckle accompanied the troll picking his mate up and tossing him over his shoulder.  "Ja gonna be crunchy furred.  Showah fer Xiao..." Xiao smiled and nodded. "I was worried, I think you are uh... bleeding in a few places." He said with a blush as he glanced down to Vol's thoroughly scratched up thighs as well as the few marks on his back. Before he could speak again, he squeaked in surprise as he was scooped up, clinging to his mate now as he was hoisted over his shoulder. "I miss being crunchy if it is from you..." He said with a little giggle as he hugged Vol's shoulder as he was carted off. "Nothin' wrong wit pain, lovah.  Ah crave et.  Ah'd say we fall asleep like dat, but Ah know dat any minute dat lil time bomb we got gonna wake up.  Ja take longah den me."  He swatted the pandaren on the ass just as he put him down.  "Get clean, ah gonna find pants.  Ah need a showah, get da tangles out mah hair an at least two houahs sleep." Xiao blushed a bit more, nodding. "I... almost forgot about your penchant for pain. I guess some part of me remembered otherwise I wouldn't have scratched you up like that." He said with a smile before squeaking in surprise as his ass was smacked. He turned around to lean up and give Vol a long, loving kiss before he could leave. "I... have never been happier than I am when I am with you. Never forget that. I promise, I will be here this time."  He said against Vol's lips, hugging him hard before sighing contently and pulling away to head off and do his oh so secret cleaning routine to keep his fur as wonderfully soft and plush as his mate had always known it to be. "Ja can scratch me up all ja evah want."  He'd never really let Xiao know how deep his want of pain went, one day maybe.  "Bettah be.  Scoot."  He busied himself with changing  and reswaddling their daughter and sitting next to her hammock to watch her sleep, singing another lullaby.  "Gotta sound proof ja room before we know et, hmm?" Xiao wandered off as his mate told him, the water running in the me functional but far less fancy shower since this wasn't the main home. Maybe an hour or so later, Xiao came back out, fur dry and wonderfully fluffy, grinning like a fool as he entered their daughter's room to find his mate. "Hey..." He nearly purred, love glowing in his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "Ja finally done...  longah den usual."  He sat in a chair, smiling as she ate and smirking.  "Second bottle en an houah.  Should warn ja.  Troll babies eat like big orc mons.   Bottomless pits mah ma'da once call em.  Get used ta dis, hmm?" Xiao chuckled a little. "There was more to clean up than normal. I also let my fur grow out a little more than normal so it takes longer to dry over the vent." He moved to sit across from Vol on the bed. "Do we have enough milk for her? You said it is goat milk, right?" "Ja.  Goats be outside at dis house, da Vale and Hillsbrad.  Da Admiral say he can get a Tauren fer helpin' out.  She get fed, Get ever'ting ah can be gettin' er. "  He said a few words in Zandali, trying to teach her even at that age.  "Yuutee Saakes, Zutopong.  Skam m italaf deh'yo ackee..." "Good, the last thing we would want is our little girl to go hungry, though I know you would never let that happen." He smiled, patting the bed. "Here, you two should come over here. Let her Ba feed her?" He asked with a hopeful smile. "What was that you said in Zandali just now, anyway? I still know... well, next to none of it, unfortunately." "Shadowhuntah, Daughtah.  Just a Hungry lil ting."   He stood and let Xiao hold the girl who was none too pleased about moving, and not eating right then and there.  "Ja get ta watch 'er a bit.  Showah."  Booping her daughter softly on the nose and doing the same to Xiao, he went to get himself clean, Xiao getting to deal with a whiny, amber eyed girl.  If Xiao looked, he'd see Vol's features, no doubt who sired her.  Amber eyes, the same green and gold hair, with the barest bright highlights of blue, and the same strong nose.  She looked up toward him, too young to focus on anything or properly see him. Xiao happily took the little bundle, cradling her against his bare chest, having only put on some loose linen pants after his shower. "Do not worry, I have her." He said with a smile as Vol headed off to take his now. He stared down at her now, having some true quality time with his daughter. Seeing his mate in her eyes, her hair, so much of him in every part of her. It actually made a tear come to his eye. He whispered to her in Pandaren now, letting the girl hear him speak in something other than his stilted and heavily accented Orcish. "My dearest daughter.. I will give you anything and everything I can... your papa and I, we will give you the world. You are the gift we never saw coming, the missing piece we never knew we were missing. Some day, you will have a brother or a sister. Your life will be filled with happiness, adoration, praise... and above all, love. This I promise you." He kissed her forehead gently, a single tear dripping down onto her cheek and causing him to chuckle as he leaned up and noticed it. "A little salty rain never hurt, hm?" He continued to murmur, wiping off the tear with the fur of his thumb. "You have not seen it yet, but your home... our home, the place we will eventually be a family, forever... your room will be everything you have ever dreamed of. Everything for our baby girl." It was then he gasped. "Vol!" He called out in Orcish now. "I have an idea, we need to talk when you are done showering!" He sounded excited, but his smile faded as he cringed, the loud noise making the poor girl fuss and cry. "Sorry, my lovely." He cooed in Pandaren again. "Ba is sorry, little one, shhh, it is alright. Here." He shook her bottle a bit, jostling the milk and getting her attention with the warm sustenance, quickly quieting her as she went back to drinking happily. "Talk bout what, hmm?"  He came out, clothed in a towel around his waist and one going at his hair.  "Et wait until ah able ta find pants.  Ever' tin' be down at da Vale or Hillsbrad."  Green locks were flopped over on one side and he had freshly shaved the sides of his head down to the skin.  "Gonna need ta clean tings up en 'ere."  He looked around, the room his daughter was sleeping in for the time the same she was born in.  "Ja gonna teach 'er Pandaren, ah gonna teach 'er Zandali.  Gonna get REshka ta teach her Thalassian..  an ALL of us be teachin' orcish." Xiao practically wiggled in his spot on the bed. "Maybe I do not want you to find pants." He said with a little grin. "Remember that... illusion on the top of the canopy in our bed in the Vale? I was thinking for her room, I could have Kyl do the entire room as an illusion. Instead of just normal wallpaper, we could have... an entire scene. Maybe a waterfall, a beautiful view, stars on the ceiling. I am not sure exactly. Ooh, maybe we could do a view from stranglethorn! Something to remind her of where she came from? I wanted to ask because, well, you said you had investments. I was hoping you might have some excess laying around. It would not cost nearly as much as the house upgrades did, the illusions were fairly cheap, actually. The thing that did the most damage, gold wise, was the engineered magically contraptions like the shower, the self-cleaning bed, and all of the, well, everything in the stables. I just thought, you know, it would be calming and beautiful?" "No.". He dragged the towel over his head and looked to Xiao intently.  "Not paying Kyl Dem prices.   He gonna learn ta haggle like a troll.   His price took ja  away.   Not happening again.   Stranglethorn be where she concieved.  Ja really tink ah wanna be reminded of dat?".  He wasn't made just matter of fact.  "We look into et, aftah ah surah day dat fuckin snakr not gonna slitha enta ouaj bed an kill me.  She not gonna appreciate et fer a long while.  Patience, lil love.  When ettime, we talk more on et." Xiao blinked. "No?" Then he heard the rest and nodded. "Kyl may haggle, honestly I do not know. I... did not think to try." He blushed a bit, never having been one to haggle. Then he frowned a bit sadly at the mentions of Stranglethorn. "Sorry, I thought Stranglethorn might be good, I didn't know that was where it happened." He shook his head. "I just did not think it through I guess." He said as he peered down at Tiny now, biting his lower lip and feeling a bit silly for his idea now. "We gonna figuah out sumpin, lil love.  Fer now, she not gonna care ef da walls be all white or just stone.  She gonna be en ouah room till we can get sometin so we can hear when she need us.". With a small kiss on his love's nose and a smile, he whispered softly.  "Ah not mean ta sound harsh.  Ja not know where dis all happen.  We both do thinking on et.  Sides, where she come from be Pandaria.  Dis da land of er birth, ja?"

[caveatauditor]

My favorite albums, days 1-10

Friends have requested that I share my favorite albums on social media, preferably with vaguely autobiographical blurbs accompanying them, so to avoid polluting the wholesomeness of my Facebook timeline with music geekery, these are they until I change my mind. I excluded albums from this decade because the decade isn’t over, so the ten gems that follow represent an attempt to make history conform to me.

1. Lil Wayne, Da Drought 3

Two discs of Wayne freestyling, bloviating, and holding a conversation over a bunch of sampled and/or stolen and/or obscure music, arranged randomly because in theory the mixtape goes on forever in both directions, a gorgeous tapestry whose details happen to consist of delectable beats and wild free-associative blather. Wayne raps like a child in a candy store, eschewing parsable semantic content in favor of puns and stray impulses and improvised phonetic twaddle and whatever he feels like saying in the moment; likewise, the beats don’t cohere, sonically or in sequence, instead sticking as many hooks as possible wherever possible as often as possible; the overall result comes off like a transmission from the filthiest corner of the id. The ultimate triumph of mid-‘00s mixtape culture, Da Drought 3 is fabulous aural wallpaper and hardly an album at all, so of course it’s my favorite album.

2. Joni Mitchell, Hejira

Given how beloved this album is among a surprisingly large number of my friends, I almost went with the equally astonishing Hissing of Summer Lawns, but let’s be real now--Hejira is flawlessly, magnificently beautiful like nothing else I’ve ever heard. The guitar lines lap and peal over breathtakingly wide, sweeping expanses of empty space--space like the open road, like the southwestern desert in the winter, like the urge to travel and stay on the move, like the empty human heart. The lyrics use the familiar musicianly trope of going on tour as a springboard for a set of travelogue meditations on solitude and perpetual motion, a condition imposed partially by circumstance and partially by internal existential need; she’s moving before the ringing opening chords of “Coyote” and she’s moving after “Refuge of the Roads” pensively winds down. The latter song in particular contains several moments that always, always make me cry, especially during the first verse (“We laughed at how our perfection would always be denied”) and the third (“A thunderhead of judgment was gathering in my gaze”). I’ll never use “relate” as a verb, but I’ve often taken refuge in the road. I always take this album with me, though.

3. Jandek, Blue Corpse

I’m cheating here: Jandek is a relatively new discovery for me, and I’m still working through his ridiculously massive catalog, but I’ve listened to him with sufficient fascination enough over the past year and a half that he deserves a spot. Fans say that Blue Corpse is a good starting point because it’s his most accessible album, but accessibility is a relative concept when we’re talking about experimental atonal lo-fi acoustic quasi-blues fuckery, so let’s just call it his most carefully sequenced--side two builds the way a second side should, starting with an extended harmonica solo before leading into his cover of “House of the Rising Sun” and the album’s ten-minute centerpiece, the lonely, furious “Only Lover”. I love this album so much I could easily imagine a better one lurking in some dank, unexplored discographical corner.

4. Janet Jackson, The Velvet Rope

As a sophomore in high school I heard The Velvet Rope and immediately decided this was the sexiest and most sophisticated music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I hold a special place in my heart for R&B that confounds the traditional banger/ballad distinction--there are no ballads on this album! With its swirly synthesizer and xylophonesque keyboard chords, “Empty” sounds like a conventional slow song until you notice the second layer of hyperactive drums clicking maniacally atop the core rhythm track: nervous energy disrupting and complementing preternatural spiritual calm. “Tonight’s the Night” is a great cover because the act of covering an established hit mirrors the act of initial erotic exploration, of navigating your way through a series of gestures you knew about before trying yourself; the way she sings “Cause I love you girl ain’t nobody gonna stop us now” is defiantly blunt, unshowy, matter-of-fact. Those are the lyrics! She’ll sing them. Breezy, mechanical, exquisite, The Velvet Rope captures the fragility of intimacy.

5. Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree

I first became aware of Fall Out Boy in middle school, when the girl whose locker neighbored mine put up a bunch of Pete Wentz posters on the inside of her locker door. I envied her brilliance and poise, since she was obviously way smarter and cooler than me, and I’m pleased to say she was right: this daft, idiotic, magnificent album captures a world of teenage crushes, fixations, stupid feelings poorly rationalized, awkward proclamations blurted out and immediately retracted, aftershave clumsily sprayed on to impress a special someone, the scent of cheap perfume, lipstick stains on your pillowcase and friction in your jeans. It’s so flushed and clumsy it automatically enters the realm of hormonal teenpop utopia, with the crunchy guitars mirroring the anguish in eternal adolescent Patrick Stump’s heart. Pete Wentz writes solecistic, self-aggrandizing lyrics because teenagers in love are supposed to utter howlers like “The only thing worse than not knowing is you thinking that I don’t know” and (sigh) “Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness”. It’s an ode to the enduring power of romantic absurdity, in all its most entertaining guises.

6. Duran Duran, Rio

Like From Under the Cork Tree, only glitzier. Occasionally I play a game with select friends of mine where we try to guess whether a random snippet of doggerel is a Fall Out Boy or a Duran Duran lyric. “It’s just like a scene out of Voltaire twisting out of sight”? Obviously Duran, for citing French philosophy is such a New Romantic move. “We’re well-read and poised/we’re the best boys”? Self-defeating self-objectification is Pete Wentz’s favorite rhetorical device. “The sun drips down bedding heavy behind/the front of your dress all shadowy lined/and the droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart”? Too florid; gotta be Duran. “Couldn’t cut me deeper with a knife if you tried/just take a look before you run off and hide”? No clue--blood and betrayal could go either way. “Let’s fade away together one dream at a time”? “Some people call it a one-night stand but we can call it paradise”? Well!

7. PJ Harvey, To Bring You My Love

As a senior in high school I heard To Bring You My Love and immediately decided this was the sexiest and rawest music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I know no harsher or more beautiful approximation of what it means to yearn for the sublime. The tiny guitar figure in “Working for the Man”, half-concealed beneath the drums and muffled, thumping bass, devastates because it’s creepy and horrible; the maximalist guitar roar in “Long Snake Moan”, almost as loud and thundering as her distorted vocals, devastates because so would getting run over by a tank. On the rest of the album, she hits every mood between those two extremes, including rapture and delight in addition to all the abrasive ones.

8. Fleetwood Mac, Tusk

I almost went with Tango in the Night, given how my generation seems to have discovered and reclaimed it, with “Seven Wonders” popping up in Balearic dance mixes and American Horror Story. Tusk, however, is a giant compendium of whirring gears and rotating spokes and plinky keys and strummed acoustic guitars and tinkly music boxes and billions of other moving parts, and the totality of the sound correlates with a draining, overwhelming emotional extremity. Lindsey Buckingham fills the space with a bunch of tightly crafted miniatures, distilling his imagined ideal of the Fleetwood Mac sound into the searing anger of “What Makes You Think I’m the One” and “I Know I’m Not Wrong” (Lindsey Buckingham in a song title), but Stevie Nicks gets all the big statements: the thundering “Sisters of the Moon”, the incomparable breakup ballad “Storms” (“Never have I been a blue calm sea/I have always been a storrrrrrm” always makes me cry), “Sara”. Meanwhile, Christine McVie’s “Brown Eyes”/“Never Make Me Cry” couplet is the axis on which the album’s sequence turns. Tusk resonates because it conflates the singer-songwriter confessional urge with the band’s collaborative dynamic, creating a communal space for them all to bask in their shared hate for and exhaustion with each other.

9. Crunk Hits

I needed a compilation, and this magnificent one brings to life my favorite radio format: mainstream hip-hop in the mid-‘00s. Crunk and R&B were everywhere back then; to me this album sounds like New York in the hot, lazy summers of ’05 and ’06, when these songs confounded with their unprecedented hedonism and aggression and delight. Definitively singles-oriented, this music saturated a subsequent generation of hip-hop fans, so that album artistes in this decade like Young Thug and Playboi Carti have internalized crunk’s valuable lessons about shamelessly exposing the id. I couldn’t omit an album whose first five songs are Usher’s “Yeah”, Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz’s “Get Low”, T.I.’s “Rubber Band Man”, Chingy’s “Right Thurr”, and Ciara’s “Goodies”--damn! It’s practically a greatest-hits album for the entire decade.

10. Steely Dan, Gaucho

When I bought this album in seventh grade, I wasn’t aware I was buying the fleetest, shallowest, most efficient howl of anguish ever set to music. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker are only ironists insofar as they’re romantics who mask their feelings in inscrutable form. The question with any of their albums, which are basically all flawless, is to what degree they’ll reveal their bleeding hearts, and on Gaucho there’s such a gash in the fabric the blood spurts out everywhere, staining the shag carpet, dripping through the singer’s sleeve onto his fancy leather shoes. The modest functionalism of their slick California studio-rock, the tasty licks and glossy keyboards and sparingly deployed saxophone and sudden sharp bursts of guitar, hardly enters into a dialectic with the desperation and horror of the songwriting--it’s the perfect musical expression for these feelings, as perfection that’s slightly disfigured is so much more devastating than total abrasion (when critics use “Bret Easton Ellis” as shorthand for the demented luxury porn we’ve enjoyed and suffered through this decade, what they really mean is “Steely Dan”). No matter how many glass tables you smash, how many ashtrays you inhale, you’ll never feel as shitty as this record.

[brianna-lei]

Butterfly Soup Asks #16

This time including the squad as DnD characters, Liz facts, Noelle getting her yaoi education, and more

I’ve only played Dungeons & Dragons once (1) in my life so I’m no expert! I’d consider my thoughts suggestions (like with my takes on the charaters’ MBTI types, which I’m not an expert of either): 

Noelle as a Wizard sounds right, since she definitely can’t do anything reliant on physical strength. She would be an asshole and attempt things like building a Clone Army

AKARSHA THE BARD. Rogue sounds too cool for her

Diya: I actually want to say she’s a Ranger because the Wiki on 5th edition says “The Beast Master archetype forges a connection between civilization and beasts, allowing the character to interact with animals in certain ways including gaining an animal companion to control.“ Fighter and Knight also sound plausible though! 

Min: Barbarian with high Strength and no Intelligence and Wisdom

I don’t want to say too much because I want to save things for the sequel, but here’s some stuff:

She actually played against Diya in youth leagues before she transitioned. That’s why she recognizes Diya+specifically approached her to sign the baseball club form while Diya doesn’t recognize her. At the first club meeting Liz tells her “I was at one of your games when you were little” -- This is purposefully ambiguous/misleading (sounds like Liz was just watching) because she passes and doesn’t want to out herself to a bunch of club members she doesn’t know well

After transitioning she quit baseball and switched to softball. It was weird being the one trans girl on a team of cis dudes, and additionally when she was younger she sort of felt like she had to prove she was a girl; she naturally has feminine taste, but she’d overperform it by 25%. It wasn’t until she got close to Chryssa and found out she also liked baseball that she reclaimed her interest in it

She has a nice resting face so strangers tend to ask her for directions 

Sunburns easily

Yesss check the FAQ guys! Fangames are fine as long as you explicitly say it’s a fangame!! 

I’m almost mad I didn’t think of this myself. I’m one of those people who overuses “spoopy” 

All art in the game (including the title screen) can be downloaded here!

NO!!! 

Noelle. The day the others find out will be the End of her

Akarsha was reading some yaoi so it came up in conversation, and since Noelle had never heard of it Akarsha gleefully educated her (to Noelle’s horror). Noelle was extremely scandalized that Akarsha kept sending her inappropriate images, and Akarsha was like “i’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart! it’s for ur education!! me: Master Teacher. call me sensei”  

Following this Akarsha changed her chat name to YAOI SEME as seen at the beginning of the game 

Diya and Noelle: Never tried it

Min: Has tried it 

Akarsha: She constantly makes weed jokes but actually only does it rarely 

Yes, I’m planning on exploring this more in the sequel! 

Diya; Dee-ya. Rhymes with “See ya”

Min-seo: Korean way, but most characters like Diya pronounce it like Min-so, with the “Min” rhyming with “win” (not like “mean”). The “so” is one syllable (not like “see oh”)  

Akarsha: uh-KAR-sha

Noelle: No L 

I was planning on making the sprites blink! I’m still a bit sad I didn’t end up doing it

It’s supposed to be fall 2008 when they’re in high school, but I took a LOT of artistic liberties when it came to the references. For example, Akarsha makes a Durarara reference even though the anime didn’t come out until 2010, and there’s a lot of modern memes that ended up in there too...I couldn’t hold back...

The IGF trailer video is especially modern-day meme-wise -- since it broke the 4th wall, it was like, all bets are off. Don’t think too hard about it!

I wanted to put a lot of 90s and early 00s hits in the game for the nostalgia factor, like Complicated, Rock Your Body, Dilemma, etc. I think it would’ve made the experience even more surreal for players who are around my age!

I don’t own the rights to all the music so I can’t distribute it around for people to download! Here’s where you can find everything:

Thought Projection by Ketsa

Holding Your Breath by Ketsa

Thoughts of You by Ketsa

2011-13 by Ketsa

Miyauchi Yuri/110515 (miltata remix) by Miltata

Night Tourist by Miltata

Sound413_Images(short) by Miltata

Sound429_Floating Cloud (draft) by Miltata

Side by Side by Miltata

Blooming by Miltata

Romaras by Miltata

Little Circle by Miltata

Daydream by Miltata

Calling Project 2 by .que

Flame of Love by YOSHI

Valar Morghulis by Bloodgod

Overflowing by Tatsuya Kato

My Heart Will Go On - Recorder By Candlelight by Matt Mulholland

At one point Diya finds out what it means on her own. After she finds out, she uses it for the actual meaning :) (added this to the FAQ now) 

I can totally relate to all of them, but I’d say Diya! (added this to the FAQ now) 

that sounds a bit alarming

(I added this to the FAQ page now, thanks for reminding me)  I’m fine with people shipping whatever!! The only thing I can think of that’d make me uncomfortable is incest and shipping Diya and Min with male characters – other than that, go nuts

Oh noo im sorry, that must’ve been stressful! For those who don’t know, I chatted about my game for a few minutes last week with MEGA (a USC club I used to be in!). I’ve adapted them here with what I assume what the questions were: 

1. Is that your cat on your Skype icon? 

yeah it is!! it's burrito 

(people think it’s a cute name) 

LOL glad you guys approve

2. Was the game made in Renpy? What do you think of Renpy vs. Twine? 

yep! it's made in renpy! I actually started out in twine -- twine is impossible if your game is like longer than an hour and is image heavy. the engine started lagging so bad it would take 30 secs to do anything

2. Would you eat a tiny 2 inch man for $100 million?

LOL it's hard..it's a lot of money. I don't think I would

(but you could use that money to save many more lives! utilitarianism) 

it's a real dude tho! i'd feel awful for him haha it's hard when you have to physically do it LOL

3. How long did it take for you to make Butterfly Soup? 

FOREVER. I thought of it in my junior year over winter break

4. Was it for school (like an assignment)? 

nah! just on my own

(people saying that’s impressive) 

yeah!! self motivation

5. What’s your favorite part of the game? 

hmmmmM I like the "date" with min in the dream. it's so fun, with the dog park

6. Which character do you relate to the most? 

diya!! social anxiety queen, so relatable

(people comment on how she runs around when anxious) 

i really did that before my sat once, ran 2 miles at the school's track

7. Are you from the San Francisco Bay Area

yeah i'm from the bay! east bay

8. Which year did you first come up with Butterfly Soup? 

winter 2014 i think

(people trying to calculate which year was my junior year) 

i graduated a year early so junior year was also senior year

9. Are you making a sequel? 

yes!! once ihave more time. i have a lot of ideas for stuff that goes after

10. Was this a prequel to Pom Gets Wi-Fi? Or maybe spiritual successor?

this is a prequel. i dunno about spiritual successor tho, they're a bit differnt

11. Any tips on how to balance schoolwork and working on personal projects? 

hmm...i honestly sucked at this and could only work on it on breaks lol...if you can try to work it into your school projects, like some bit of it...

other than that i cant think of anything LOL it's hard

12. How did you organize yourself making such a long game? Any tips? 

it was SUPER hard to organize, i was really lost until i split it into 4 sections with each character. so if you're planning on making a game this big definitely think about forcing yourself into sections like that

the art was the most confusing to do bc of how many assets there were. i was going to say "have consistent naming conventions" but that's literally impossible LOL it'll always become inconsistent no matter how hard u try

13. What part of the game took the longest (writing? art?) 

writing, actually, despite how much i complain about art assets. it's really hard making sure the structure and themes come across correctly. like pacing is so hard. art is like #2 biggest time sink

14. How early in did you write the Akarsha/Min skateboard scene?

that came pretty late haha i put it in at last second

15. Are the characters based on real people? 

they're all inspired by combinations of ppl i know! i wouldn't say based on them, tho. for example min is like a combination of 3 friends i have, strategically arranged to play her part in the story

character design is design so u still gotta be deliberate about it

16. Who’s the other cat on the computer? (they’re referring to the cat on my desktop wallpaper) 

that one's maru! he's a famous japaense cat. he's super photogenic

(people speculating that he’s the “tube one”) 

the tube one? probably. he's famous for going into stuff

17. What was your favorite aspect of working on the game? 

definitely getting to put specific Asian-American experiences into it

i was like HAHOH i can do this and no one can stop me! it was really fun getting to do this without any creative direction from like, a studio or anything. so i could just go bonkers. i hate pitching stuff so

18. Any writing advice? 

definitely have other people beta your writing as soon as possible! they always catch stuff you missed. also this is like a cheat, make your characters really extreme. like find one aspect of yourself, and turn it up to 11 and make it into a character. that way they'll be relatable and memorable at the same time. i think most people don't make their characters extreme enough so they're all kinda samey

19. (I can’t remember what they asked me here, sorry! They were asking if a specific meme was in the game)

LMAO nah it's not. i did briefly think about it though, i will admit

20. Would you eat a Gusher the size of your hand? 

that would be pretty cool. i don't think i could eat it all at once tho...i would try to save it. like half

You’re welcome, I’m really happy to hear it helped the game feel relatable!!  

Thank you! I hope you have a good day too!!

haha I feel like my game is almost propaganda bc so many people wish they had girlfriends after playing it! the agenda...Thank you for waiting for the sequel, it makes me super happy to hear people are looking forward to it! 

You’re welcome!! I’ll do my best!!! 

You’re welcome!!!! :>

You’re welcome!!! 

same I’m really happy so many people find them relatable! you’re welcome!! 

You’re welcome!! my kids can never get enough love im very happy 

I’m glad you liked it! Thanks for the support! TT_TT

[skyfields]

biography: lucas lazanski

Lucas Lazanski. How does a person even begin to describe him? He’s the guy who you call when you’ve got a flat tire, even if you’re hardly acquainted, ‘cause he put his number in your phone and said to call if you needed anything⁠— and you could tell he meant it. He’s the guy who the quiet girls at school crushed on, just ‘cause he’d go out of his way to praise them during Capture the Flag in P.E. then jog away to high-five his boys and do a backflip.

He’s the guy who— for some reason— moved out of L.A. halfway through senior year of high school to go and become an idol in South Korea.

You ask Zanski ‘bout his history, he’ll tell you; the man’s an open book. Someone like that’s gotta have some tragic backstory, yeah? Cool Asian kid at school, friends with everyone, single Hills mom, Stanford and Harvard sisters; what’s his deal, you’d ask? A shrug, then:

“It’s not that complicated, man. My parents were Korean, couldn’t take care of me. My mom’s husband passed, could take care of me. My sisters were studying abroad; mom missed having a kid around. I was cute even back then. How would she not adopt me?”

Then a flirty eyebrow wag, a teasing grin, and he’s off to find his next adventure.

And it actually isn’t that complicated, really. Mother: Jackie Lazanski, elementary schoolteacher who happened to marry a loving real estate tycoon who left everything, including his multimillions, to her after he died.

Sisters: Ava and Mia Lazanski, grad school and pre-med, respectively, at least back then. Successful engineer and surgeon nowadays. Also his home screen wallpaper, but not his lock screen, ‘cause he doesn’t wanna bother them if Dispatch sees his phone and tries to contact his sisters.

Home: Beverly Hills, baby!

Closest friends: Ryan, Max, Abdul, Alex, Mateo, and Biceps Miles. (That last one wasn’t ‘cause his biceps were ripped, but ‘cause he ripped his biceps in middle school. Lifting accidents, man.) All best friends since pretty much childhood. All ending up running different social circles in high school, but staying close as hell.

Girlfriend: half the high school woulda claimed Hayley Bradburn asked him out a month ago, the other half woulda argued that no, actually, Sophie Coram-Connell said that she was dating him, but Zanski himself woulda told you that it was Zoey Kim, the Korean exchange student during junior year.

Zoezanski, Ryan used to tease him about, ‘cause when Zanski’s got it, he’s got it bad. Pretty embarrassing the way he, so tall even as a high-schooler, seemed to forget just how big he was around Zoey’s cute long hair and accented voice and pink denim miniskirt. Thank God his mom said that he should keep in touch with his heritage and made him learn Korean as a kid, ‘cause he’s got a leg up in talking to her. And Misun, as he later discovers Zoey’s Korean name is— she’s a singer, man. Got one of the prettiest voices Zanski ever did hear. It’s why he ended up joining choir way back when, and realized he actually liked it a lot even after she left.

She used to sing a lot in the car, charmed by the cherry red color of the convertible his mom got him as he’d cruise down the coast with his hand on her knee. K-pop was what she listened to, and by extension, it’s what Zanski listened to even after they broke up.

And what a breakup it was. Remember Sophie? Sophie Coram-Connell who was rejected so nicely by Zanski that she didn’t even realize she was rejected at all?— oops! Turns out that not wanting to ruffle any feathers is a fatal flaw, ‘cause Sophie heard from Tina who’s dating Kyle who’s on Biceps Miles’ pole-vaulting team who’s following Zanski’s sister Ava that Ava posted a photo of herself, Zanski, and Zoey having dinner with the caption . . . “Glad to finally meet my brother’s girlfriend!” And Sophie freaked.

She bullied Zoey for the rest of junior year, despite Zanski’s pleading efforts to get her to stop. And Zoey begged Zanski to stop being friends with her . . . but how could he ever choose a side, burn a bridge? Turns out, the consequences of trying to rationalize and make amends between two people leads to even more friction. In hindsight, he does wish he defended his girlfriend way back when, but it doesn’t even matter now, ‘cause Zoey dumps him three months before she has to go back to Korea.

What sticks with him, though, is everything he picked up in his efforts to impress her. Is he heartbroken? Yeah, but he’s got his friends. He’s got his mom. He’s got his sisters, even if they’re plane rides away. But it’s hard to let go of the music, the singing, not when he’s finally discovered a talent he’s proud of.

And he guesses Zoey’s proud too . . . ‘cause she emails him, halfway through his senior year, with a link to Worldwide Records global casting in L.A. and nothing but the words “Go try out :)”. Well, what’s he got to lose?

It’s how he ends up having a going-away dinner with his mom and friends, and even Mia’s flown in from Harvard to attend her baby brother’s celebration. His heart is pounding as he boards the plane in early ‘11. ‘Cause he’s gonna be a K-pop idol— whatever that entails.

What it entails is Zanski having to water himself down. God, they even make him start going by Lucas again! No one’s called him that since pretty much the second grade. He’s too Western; the first few years he accidentally calls people “unnie” ‘cause he’s still getting used to honorifics. He has to be slapped on the wrist to stop hugging his seniors and clapping them on the shoulder and start bowing to them instead. He’s miserable the first few years as an idol. Even his mom notices it when he debuts in ‘14 and she comments on how he seems too tame.

But time goes by, and Prism starts garnering a bit more respect in the industry till eventually, Max is texting him and telling him that even the people in L.A. are starting to freak out over him. (But also, who the hell is Lucas?) We love to hear it, brother. (It’s me, dude. Lucas is me. Did you seriously not know my first name is Lucas?! We’ve been friends since kindergarten.)

What’s nice about respect is that people seem to start seeing his Westernness as more of a quirk than something to scoff at. Maybe it was a good thing he censored so much of himself in their early years— maybe not. But maybe it’s also pretty cool that people are starting to see him more as a hype man than the guy who was just a bit too big and a bit too jock-y. Either way, it becomes easier and easier for him to step out into the cameras, smile a casually playful smile, click his tongue with a wink, and give ‘em two thumbs up.

[skyfields2]

biography: lucas lazanski

Lucas Lazanski. How does a person even begin to describe him? He’s the guy who you call when you’ve got a flat tire, even if you’re hardly acquainted, ‘cause he put his number in your phone and said to call if you needed anything⁠— and you could tell he meant it. He’s the guy who the quiet girls at school crushed on, just ‘cause he’d go out of his way to praise them during Capture the Flag in P.E. then jog away to high-five his boys and do a backflip.

He’s the guy who— for some reason— moved out of L.A. halfway through senior year of high school to go and become an idol in South Korea.

You ask Zanski ‘bout his history, he’ll tell you; the man’s an open book. Someone like that’s gotta have some tragic backstory, yeah? Cool Asian kid at school, friends with everyone, single Hills mom, Stanford and Harvard sisters; what’s his deal, you’d ask? A shrug, then:

“It’s not that complicated, man. My parents were Korean, couldn’t take care of me. My mom’s husband passed, could take care of me. My sisters were studying abroad; mom missed having a kid around. I was cute even back then. How would she not adopt me?”

Then a flirty eyebrow wag, a teasing grin, and he’s off to find his next adventure.

And it actually isn’t that complicated, really. Mother: Jackie Lazanski, elementary schoolteacher who happened to marry a loving real estate tycoon who left everything, including his multimillions, to her after he died.

Sisters: Ava and Mia Lazanski, grad school and pre-law, respectively, at least back then. Successful engineer and surgeon nowadays. Also his home screen wallpaper, but not his lock screen, ‘cause he doesn’t wanna bother them if Dispatch sees his phone and tries to contact his sisters.

Home: Beverly Hills, baby!

Closest friends: Ryan, Max, Abdul, Alex, Mateo, and Biceps Miles. (That last one wasn’t ‘cause his biceps were ripped, but ‘cause he ripped his biceps in middle school. Lifting accidents, man.) All best friends since pretty much childhood. All ending up running different social circles in high school, but staying close as hell.

Girlfriend: half the high school woulda claimed Hayley Bradburn asked him out a month ago, the other half woulda argued that no, actually, Sophie Coram-Connell said that she was dating him, but Zanski himself woulda told you that it was Zoey Kim, the Korean exchange student during junior year.

Zoezanski, Ryan used to tease him about, ‘cause when Zanski’s got it, he’s got it bad. Pretty embarrassing the way he, so tall even as a high-schooler, seemed to forget just how big he was around Zoey’s cute long hair and accented voice and pink denim miniskirt. Thank God his mom said that he should keep in touch with his heritage and made him learn Korean as a kid, ‘cause he’s got a leg up in talking to her. And Misun, as he later discovers Zoey’s Korean name is— she’s a singer, man. Got one of the prettiest voices Zanski ever did hear. It’s why he ended up joining choir way back when, and realized he actually liked it a lot even after she left.

She used to sing a lot in the car, charmed by the cherry red color of the convertible his mom got him as he’d cruise down the coast with his hand on her knee. K-pop was what she listened to, and by extension, it’s what Zanski listened to even after they broke up.

And what a breakup it was. Remember Sophie? Sophie Coram-Connell who was rejected so nicely by Zanski that she didn’t even realize she was rejected at all?— oops! Turns out that not wanting to ruffle any feathers is a fatal flaw, ‘cause Sophie heard from Tina who’s dating Kyle who’s on Biceps Miles’ pole-vaulting team who’s following Zanski’s sister Ava that Ava posted a photo of herself, Zanski, and Zoey having dinner with the caption . . . “Glad to finally meet my brother’s girlfriend!” And Sophie freaked.

She bullied Zoey for the rest of junior year, despite Zanski’s pleading efforts to get her to stop. And Zoey begged Zanski to stop being friends with her . . . but how could he ever choose a side, burn a bridge? Turns out, the consequences of trying to rationalize and make amends between two people leads to even more friction. In hindsight, he does wish he defended his girlfriend way back when, but it doesn’t even matter now, ‘cause Zoey dumps him three months before she has to go back to Korea.

What sticks with him, though, is everything he picked up in his efforts to impress her. Is he heartbroken? Yeah, but he’s got his friends. He’s got his mom. He’s got his sisters, even if they’re plane rides away. But it’s hard to let go of the music, the singing, not when he’s finally discovered a talent he’s proud of.

And he guesses Zoey’s proud too . . . ‘cause she emails him, halfway through his senior year, with a link to Worldwide Records global casting in L.A. and nothing but the words “Go try out :)”. Well, what’s he got to lose?

It’s how he ends up having a going-away dinner with his mom and friends, and even Mia’s flown in from Harvard to attend her baby brother’s celebration. His heart is pounding as he boards the plane in early ‘11. ‘Cause he’s gonna be a K-pop idol— whatever that entails. 

What it entails is Zanski having to water himself down. God, they even make him start going by Lucas again! No one’s called him that since pretty much the second grade. He’s too Western; the first few years he accidentally calls people “unnie” ‘cause he’s still getting used to honorifics. He has to be slapped on the wrist to stop hugging his seniors and clapping them on the shoulder and start bowing to them instead. He’s miserable the first few years as an idol. Even his mom notices it when he debuts in ‘14 and she comments on how he seems too tame.

But time goes by, and Prism starts garnering a bit more respect in the industry till eventually, Max is texting him and telling him that even the people in L.A. are starting to freak out over him. (But also, who the hell is Lucas?) We love to hear it, brother. (It’s me, dude. Lucas is me. Did you seriously not know my first name is Lucas?! We’ve been friends since kindergarten.)

What’s nice about respect is that people seem to start seeing his Westernness as more of a quirk than something to scoff at. Maybe it was a good thing he censored so much of himself in their early years— maybe not. But maybe it’s also pretty cool that people are starting to see him more as a hype man than the guy who was just a bit too big and a bit too jock-y. Either way, it becomes easier and easier for him to step out into the cameras, smile a casually playful smile, click his tongue with a wink, and give ‘em two thumbs up.

[crazyartdad]

A New Home: Welcome TO L.A

“But I liked our house” Noodle says grudgingly as she stares out the window of their packed car.

“I know you did, I'm sorry..But look at the bright side! The house is huge and you'll have such a great room to move around!” says father number one enthusiastically as he untangles a particularly nasty knot of blue locks.

The jeep roared as it made its way down the highway, Noodle cautiously holding onto Katsu to distract herself from the dreaded mood she was about to face.

“....We have our own pool, Won't that be fun?” Murdoc adds to the conversation, hoping to turn the attitude around.

“I gotta pee”

“Don't really know where ya want me to stop kid” Murdoc grunted as he fixated his eyes back to the road.

“I don't understand why you guys couldn't work out your problems at home..”She whispered objectively messing with the tag around Katsu’s studded collar.

The car became quiet save for the rumble of engine life and running pavement beneath the wheels that Stuart spoke up to change the subject.

“Hey California! Fresh air, clean out all our lungs hu? Even better new school~” He says looking back at her, ruined eyes peering over sunglasses to save him from the blinding sun.

“FUN” She shouts sarcastically

“Thank Satan we named you Noodle then the other one” Murder speaks groggily.

“ANd that is? Noodle taunted

“Sunny side up” Stuart said with a smirk looking over to the smile forming on Mudz face.

“...I hate both of you”

Murdoc then gives a laugh of approval before reaching for the others hand. Stuart lingers a second before slipping his away, giving him an apologetic look till he gazes at the window to the new view of the city. ***************************************************

“Beautiful American Victorian!, six bedrooms four baths! all original fixtures kindly restored by the late owner's”

“How the hell are we affording this?” Stuart mutters to Murdoc as the sales woman jabbers on

“Don't worry your pretty self luv~” He whispers back in approval

“Real Tiffany fixtures and rose wood flooring!, the late owners were such dashing types. They remind me alot of the lot of you, course minus the child!” she boasts on

“Gay?” Stuart asks questions

‘Oh! Yes yes!, you get a lot of that down here in L.A, um where were you from again?” The realtor probes noisy

“West London, tryin out a few things”Murdoc pipes up with charisma.

“London! How Nice!”

Rolling Her eyes Noodle releases Katsu to the new home to do a bit of exploring herself leaving her anxiety ridden dad to fend for himself against this new conversation stand off. The floors creaked as she strutted along the hallway judging the green vintage wallpaper wondering if she could really call this her home. It smelled, off. Not bad, just something she would smell when she visited grandma's house back in Crokey, listing to the records plays as the smell of peppermint tea flooded the house.

Maybe I could pick out a room She thought before Katsu interrupted her thoughts with repetitive meowing.

“Noodle, Luv? Look what hes yelling at please?” Murdoc asks from the kitchen She gives a sigh of annoyance before following order, trudging down the hallway till she finds katsu clawing at a door under the stairs. She cocks her head to the side lifting the dual colored lenses from her face before stepping to the door. It took a few hard tugs before the handle broke free, earning a curse from the other. Yet before she turns away to leave the problem be the door opens slowly with a breath stalling creak.

Is it colder or is it just me? She questions, staring into the black pit of the basement stairwell. It felt staticky, like the time Murdoc rubbed a balloon along her hair during a carnival or when she touched one of those electric balls in a Spencer's shop.

“Hey! Katsu!” She yelps suddenly, while her cat descended the steps, quickly following after the furry beast.

She stalls midway, looking to the brick wall molded from years of neglect till she eyes the water heater in all it's rusted glory. She made note of all the possibilities of it giving out. Along with other problems the house might hold before she hears another distinctive meow further into the clutter filled level below.

“Baby, what ya doin?” Noodle bellows into the darkness.

Searching around she finds a switch to better search for her missing cat. She spots a heavily aided wine cabinet she suspects Murdoc would be happy to find, along with piles of junk she could barely take note of. She takes tentative steps along the cement, mindful of the cracks she could trip over before something else catches her eye.

A Studebaker turntable, a stunning record player left to rot in a black pit covered in a layer of dust.

“How awful..”she quips running her fingers along the dusted mess, creating marks along the smooth wood. Looking to the side she notices vintage classics in all genres leaving abandoned as much as everything else in the storage lot. Mostly jazz, but she figures with this thing. She could put good use to her record collection.

Crash!

“Ugh Katsu!” She shouts startled at the glass shattered from the bolting feline. Promising to come back later she gives the Player a few pats before returning upstairs to see how the standoff went. ******************************************************

“You said something about there being a study for me to work at home?”

“Yes! You're a Psychologist?” “Psychiatrist, go big or go home right?” he says earning a jab from the Bluenette.

“Fascinating, yes yes, How nice. Spending some time with the family” she says sipping from her cup of tea the male prepared

“I ...I'm sorry, I just don't understand why this house is so cheap, Mudz?” He says looking to the Satanist with worry.

“Well,...according to law, I do have to tell you history of the house, the last owners?”

“God they didn't die did they?” Stuart says jokingly.

‘Yes both of them, Murder suicide,Sold them the house myself. Such a travesty those two, they seemed so nice”

While she looked to her cup sadly the others stared at her in disbelief silently questioning themselves and each other if this really seemed like the right idea.

‘There..there is a nice ranch house an hour out of town , but it's doubled the price of this”

“Where did it happen?” Noodle ask suddenly appearing out of nowhere, Katsu lying lazily in her arms.

“Basement, both of them”

“We’ll take it” She says giving a smile to her repairing family.