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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 19 - In Which Jack and Charles Secure Planning Permission and Max Micromanages

Mary had liked several of Charles's photographs of Jack and the workroom and the half-finished fashions enough to post them to Instagram. And she'd liked the photograph of Charles all decked out in silk and countless jewels enough to use it as the title page for a more formal press announcement of the upcoming fashion show. The word “DECADENCE” is emblazoned across a glossy version of the picture in a stark, masculine font.

And then, in slightly smaller font underneath: Jack Rackham – Fall/Winter 2009.

His name. His name. Not quite in lights, but there, for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he is the one who did this. That these accomplishments are his.

Not that he did it all himself, of course. Mary's role is obvious. Christine is indispensable. And it's Charles's face on the cover of his press release.

The may have called Charles his muse as a joke. It seems like the sort of thing a flamboyant fashion designer would call his favorite booty call. Just the right side of pretentiously obfuscating for the older guard who might not be ready for the party boy persona they've both adopted.

But the honest truth is that Jack's come to rely on Charles in a way he hadn't quite expected for this con.

It's not exactly in Chaz's wheelhouse, is the thing. But he's worked hard to learn skills outside bashing skulls, just as Anne has.

Not that he doesn't do plenty of that as well. And gotten some good information out of it. But he's more than the street thug he'd been for so long. And Jack can't say he misses those days – not when the days they have now are so much easier.

So much less full of fear and strife and poverty.

It's almost like an extended holiday, the way they live now. All getting to pretend they're rich and soft and genteel. Getting to walk among the special, the exalted, the beautiful people. The ones with titles and money and pedigree. The ones with names that mean something.

Well now Jack's name means something too.

And not through an accident of birth. Through cleverness and planning. Through luck, of course, but also through plain hard work. Something those gilded, pampered elite would never understand.

Charles has been given a slight reprieve in lugging armoires around. The old Hennessy house has been emptied of all the furniture, finally, and Mary's light rigs have all been installed. All the walls repainted and all the pictures of grand empty rooms taken.

But then Max sees the reaction the upper crust have to those pictures. All the ruined grandeur on display, just to be knocked over to make way for progress, for new ways of making money – they fucking love it, the rich brainless investment fuckers.

So now Max wants to take advantage of that greed she's awoken in the elitist twits in thousand pound suites. That desire for wealth, for faded grandeur, for a past of riches and glory and conquest. But brought into the future. Brought into the now. So they can pretend England isn't just some pretentious backwater with delusions of grandeur, with visions of glory (that was never all that glorious) long past.

So Mary decides, yeah, it would be a fucking great idea to do a little promotional photo shoot of all the models for Jack's fashion show in the house, before it gets demolished. Jewel bright clothes, sparkling gems, enough gold to sink a fucking warship, all juxtaposed – that'd been the word she'd used - all fucking juxtaposed against the backdrop of the ruined townhouse.

So Jack'd worked like a fiend to get the clothes ready. And Charles's break is over.

Now he gets to lug around garment bags and makeup trunks and jewelry chests and even more light rigs – all to be placed precisely where Mary dictates, and moved with the changing light or her changing whims. All that shit's fucking heavy. And Anne's no help this time because she's been set to wrangling all the models and making sure they're properly primped and preened and posed for the photos. All under Max and Mary's watchful eyes.

Cuz Max has apparently decided that she wants to have her hand in things personally.

Not that she hadn't kept things well in hand with Jack's other fashion show – finding the models, organizing the behind the scenes contracts. Setting Idelle up with Featherstone.

But now she's actually telling Mary how she wants the pictures to look. Or more specifically, that she wants some big fancy painting in all the shots. Not the whole paining, though. Just pieces of it. Enough to tantalize, to excite, but not to show the goods.

There's even a picture where the models are holding it at the front of the shot, but it's covered by a lacy black cloth, all except for one corner, which pokes out like a whore's ankle in some repressed 1700s pin up.

Charles thinks the whole thing's fucking unnecessary. Who gives a shit if there's a painting showing too much or too little in the shot? Why does he have to be the one to move it over and over again – sometimes millimeter by fucking millimeter – until Max deems it just right? He's got other things to do with his day, thank you very fucking much.

Like pretending to be Jack's ditsy muscular boytoy, and all the hours in the gym and gossiping by the pool that takes to maintain. He better get another fucking break when all this shit is over.

With investors sniffing at Max's skirts like rabid jackals, ready to rip each other apart for a chance at the Hennessy townhouse, Jack broaches the topic of planning permission to Councilor Featherstone. And he does it over dinner in a private room at a restaurant where the esteemed councilor could never have gotten a reservation – and especially not on such short notice. Because for all that he has power. For all that he attends all the right clubs – the same clubs Jack himself attends. Well, the councilor's a bit of a social outcast. A bit of a dud in the personality department.

Whereas Jack is all glib charm and meaningless flirtation. Jack knows how to play the sort of high society games that result in the private table on nearly no notice that the councilor is currently enjoying.

What is it they say? Always come to the negotiating table with the outcome already certain? Well, Jack's doing his damnedest to stack the deck in his favor. And if a little show of how well connected he is, how much more he belongs in this world of high-society fops and casual displays of obscene wealth, is what it takes to get Max her planning permission, then Jack will wine and dine Featherstone at the goddamn Ritz if he has to.

Although the slightly less-upscale, though no less entrenched in British upper-class hegemony, restaurant he's chosen for tonight seems to be doing the trick well enough. Councilor Featherstone is looking around with ill disguised awe.

If he were slightly more uncouth, Jack imagines his jaw would be actually agape at all the gilt and velvet and fine linens and sparkling crystal. As it is, it's more than obvious Jack has introduced him to a style of dining out that he's never experienced before. Perfect.

The entire point of this little excursion is to underline to Councilor Featherstone what a... fruitful... relationship they can have. All Jack's connections and wealth at the councilor's fingertips – and all he needs to do is pass the occasional planning permission for a project that otherwise may have languished in limbo for years. And to that end, Charles is doing his considerable best to bring the conversation around to where Jack needs it to go, namely planning permission for the Hennessy house.

A conversation that demonstrates that Charles has become considerably more subtle than Jack ever believed him capable of.

And perhaps that is an oversight on Jack's own part. Him never deigning to look past Charles's rough and unpolished exterior to hidden – really very well hidden – depths. Known for a straightforward style of smash and grab, Charles has really developed a mind for strategy of late. And something of a silver tongue, though it doesn't come close to rivaling Jack's own.

At any rate, Jack appreciates his efforts. Lord Hamilton may have been willing to come right out and ask for little favors, so assured of his power and his place in the London hierarchy he would eschew subtlety entirely - but there's such a thing as being too forward.

Jack finds that method rather gauche. And the last thing he wishes to be is gauche.

Plus, Jack would rather have the councilor's regard – his friendship, even if it is a tad one-sided – than his fear purchased compliance. Because fear may breed deference in the short term, but it leads to chafing at the yoke in the long run. And Councilor Featherstone didn't get to where he is today by being a complete pushover.

So Charles is sitting in this opulent private dining room, as the councilor sips champagne and enjoys expensive hors d'oeuvres, chatting to Idelle about a spa he went to with some of his “friends” from the health club. Which isn't even a lie. Charles had in fact attended a quote girls day unquote at an upscale spa courtesy of one of the women who lounges poolside and looks over her designer sunglasses at the tanned skin Charles is so very unconcerned with putting on display.

The fact that it was a nude spa may have had something to do with Charles being invited. But it sounds as if Charles had a nice enough time. Or at least he's talking it up to Idelle, who makes suitable sounds of impressed jealousy as the story unfolds. Commenting that she'd rather like to be taken to something like that – perhaps on a date?

Personally, Jack would pay enormous amounts of money to not see Featherstone in the alltogether – but Idelle is a consummate professional and lets no sign of displeasure at the idea show. Maybe Max ought to consider giving her a raise. Jack resolves to raise the issue once planning permission has been secured. Speaking of -

“The only thing,” Charles says, voice measured to ensure that Councilor Featherstone is paying the utmost attention. “The only thing I didn't particularly care for was how crowded the spa was.”

“Indeed,” Jack butts in, “that hardly sounds relaxing. Being surrounded by all the teeming masses.”

“Oh, the actual spa part was lovely. So relaxing after a long, hectic week...”

Jack can see Councilor Featherstone's scoffing disbelief that Charles could have anything resembling a hectic week – his schedule filled with nothing more than lounging in various decorous poses on various expensive surfaces, as far as the councilor is aware. But he has some long, hectic weeks at work...

“But as soon as you're back in the more public areas, all that work at relaxing and destressing – gone!”

“Oh, how terrible!” Idelle exclaims with just the right amount of dramatic disbelief.

“And it was supposed to be one of the more exclusive spa packages as well. You think money would go a bit further nowadays, is all,” Charles finishes. And now all that's left to do is set up the pitch...

Right on cue, Idelle chimes in with, “Too bad there isn't a more private spa. Someplace intimate.” The last is directed at Featherstone, who's blushing and looks primed for the sell.

“Funny you should mention that,” Jack says causally – but not too casually. That's the key. They have to think you're playing them a little so they won't look too deeply at how you're actually playing them. “I happen to have a friend who's looking to start up a little boutique hotel spa. You know where the Hennessy townhouse is?”

The councilor nods, although Jack doubts he was ever actually invited there.

“Well, my friend got it for a song. They were looking to move to warmer climes, you know. And she got an excellent deal for the whole package – house and furniture and everything. Which turned out to be a good thing! The whole place was falling apart, if you can believe. Just completely structurally unsound.” Jack says the last part as if it's the most boring thing in the world.

“So anyway, she's looking to rebuild. Plenty of investors already lined up around the block, of course. And there's mixed zoning, you know. And she doesn't exactly need yet another house to sit empty and eat up heating costs. Plus the cleaning service – you know how much they'll gauge you.”

Pretending that the councilor has a maid service – when Jack knows for certain he doesn't, which is why he doesn't entertain at home much – is another stab at just how different he is from the upper crust.

“Yes, of course,” Councilor Featherstone responds. “They'll take an arm and a leg.”

“So she came on the idea of the hotel and spa. For the country set, or celebrities, or whoever wants a little privacy when visiting the city.” Rich men with mistresses. Government officials with less than acceptable girlfriends. Whoever.

“That sounds lovely,” Idelle chimes in. “Perhaps we might do a spa day there sometime, dear.”

“Oh. Oh I don't know,” the councilor responds, obviously thinking of the enormous price tag attached to something like that.

“We could do a double date,” Charles gushes. “Oh, Idelle! What an excellent idea!”

“Oh, I'm certain I could arrange something like that,” Jack is quick to assure the increasingly panicked looking councilor. “Given that the proposal comes from a close personal friend. I imagine I can talk her into pulling a few strings with whoever purchases the building so we get first crack at it.”

A delicate pause. Calculated to be just enough to let the councilor experience euphoric relief that his problem has been solved - that Jack has been the one to solve it – before bringing it all crashing down.

“Of course, that's assuming the project moves forward any time in the next decade. You of all people know what London real estate is like.”

“You said the lot was zoned for mixed use?” Featherstone asks desperately. He's so close to giving Idelle her heart's desire of the current moment and he can see it slipping away.

Jack nods.

He's not even lying. There are several businesses on that street dating to just after the Great London Fire that necessitate the designation. Plus one unbearably posh cupcake bakery charging upwards of a tenner for a single cupcake.

“Well, then it should be no problem. I can even take a look at everything personally - just to make sure it's all in order, of course.”

“Oh, darling!” Idelle exclaims rapturously. “Would you?”

“Of course, dear. Anything for you.”

Perfect.

Charles grins at Jack, wolflike. And then steers the conversation to other idle gossip about the rich and famous.

Best not to let the councilor dwell too long on what just happened.

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #anne bonny/max #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 19

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walq-chan · 4 years

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Solitary night - A short headcanon about Mammon dealing with his loneliness

⚠️ partial NSFW alert . Please, don't read if you don't like this kind of content and if you are a minor! There's plenty of different material on my blog to you enjoy. :)

It was night at the House of Lamentation. Lying on the bed, Mammon fiddled with his DDD.

You had gone to the human world to accompany Levi to a cosplay event or something, both too excited for anyone who would spend the day dressed in some weird clothes.

He sighed, annoyed. Not having you at home made him uneasy and although he had no interest in these nerdy things, he wanted to be there to prevent someone else from getting too close to you. Selfishness? Certainly, but the avatar of greed longed for the last moment of your attention, even if it did it in the most tsundere way possible.

He dropped the phone on the bed, put his arm under the pillow, smelling your smell still in there, turned his body and faced the ceiling.

- Why did you have to go with that otaku ?! He complained to himself.

Mammon turned his head, this time to the furniture next to the bed, where there were some picture frames with pictures of the two of you. He looked around in nostalgia, fixing himself particularly on one.

A photo of you two, on a trip to the beach. It had been a big family trip with a picnic on the beach, and although he spent most of his time sharing your attention with his brothers, Mammon got some free time with you, enough to take some pictures, just the two of you.

Some of these photos resided in those portraits, others were still in the depths of the DDD files that he rested beside him on the bed.

He grabbed the phone, looking for the photo folder he had of you. In an instant, dozens of pictures of you appeared on the screen, most of you with everyday moments, like eating in the kitchen, playing video games, watching movies ... he had some of you sleeping (which he himself found disturbing from part of him, despite not having the courage to delete them), but what he was looking for were your pictures smiling in the sun, eating something from the food basket they had taken or of you making funny poses on that trip.

And was by reviewing those memories that he caught himself, literally fixing himself on you.

More specifically, on your curves, thighs, breasts. His eyes captured all that with a need that he didn't even know he had, so that as he fixed himself on your body, he felt his own body start to warm up.

Heat spread through Mammon's body as he remembered your half-naked body in the sun. He blushed, although he had no intention of taking those pictures out of view. As he stared at your body on the screen, he remembered your smell, still impregnated in the room and on the pillows, imagining you with him, there under the sheets.

He felt a shiver running down into his body, and slowly, he went down his fingers for his own abdomen, pulling on the underwear he was wearing, finding the source of all the heat that the body itself emanated.

- Damn MC, why do you have to be so hot? He grunted. Under his fingers, an erection protruded, hard, hot and humid.

He felt his face burn with embarrassment for thinking of you that way, but the pleasure he felt when he touched his penis glans was so intense that it made him moan, biting his lip in pleasure as he felt the fluid pre enjoyment dripping from the hot cock.

That's when the DDD screen lit up. It was you, or at least a picture of you. In the message the phrase "I think that "weird" is not the adjective to describe, is it ?! 😈" , referring to the attached photo, a super sexy cosplay of an anime character.

If Mammon had any remorse for jerking off thinking about you, he was erased by the absurd desire he felt when he saw your body in that photo. And while his fingers went up and down rhythmically for the length of his cock, the room was filled with Mammon's low, hoarse groans.

His mind only had space for you, that cosplay and how he wanted to fuck you dressed like that. He increased his speed around his cock, his mind full of thoughts about the moans and expressions he imagined you to giving him. He arched his hips a little, an imminent sensation of orgasm taking over every cell in that body.

- Shit ... MC, I'm comin ..., was just what he said before releasing on his abdomen and sheets.

Still breathing hard, he looked at your photo again, on the DDD screen, a feeling of relief mixed with a strange feeling of desire and a pinch shame..

Giving a naughty smile, the avatar of greed satisfied himself for one night and concluded that, he would definitely not be satisfied with just your attention.

#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me! mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #my writing #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years

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Survey #240

end of the year one!

What did you do in 2019 that you’d never done before? Uhhhh. Wow. I honestly don't really know; not a lot. Uhhhh... oh, I was sexually involved with a girl, I worked at a deli for A WHOLE TWO HOURS!!!!, I'm still a shameful shit that being on that damn pill actually drove me to masturbating for the first time (yes, I know it's not "bad," but), OH! I very recently found myself to relate to Neo-Paganism so kinda identify as that now, I finished a full semester of college, and uhhh. It's funny, '18 and '19 kinda blur together for me, so I can't say with certainty when some certain things took place, so it doesn't even feel right putting them here? Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn't make one; I pretty much never do. This year, however, I just might. Like I've always thought "dude it's just another day there is literally no actual difference," but I want to focus on the actual symbolism. No, there is no physical difference, but it's the idea I want to appreciate. I want to make something about self-improvement this year, probably mostly about AvPD and its "I'm embarrassed by myself omg people think I'm weird" factor irl, because that FUUUUCKS WIIIITH MEEEEE. I want to be comfortable as me, y'know? Oh, and I should definitely work on independence. Did anyone close to you give birth? No, but my sister is pregnant. Did anyone close to you die? My dog Teddy. What countries did you visit? I didn't leave and have never left America, yaaaaay. Fun. Adventure. What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019? An income. Let photography go somewhere or some shit, please. What date from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? November 28th, when Teddy was put down. That's something I can never forget. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Said lasting a college semester!!!! I failed my math course as I expected to, but I mean, I lasted. What was your biggest failure? To ME anyway (people have assured me otherwise from their perspectives), it would be the first "professional" wedding I shot. I put so much into that day and the DAYS of post processing, and they never bought any of the pictures. Said they were going to discuss which ones they wanted and get back to me and then poof, vanished. I was very suspicious by another person, I think family, being there taking pictures pretty much just as much as I did, even posing people, and by now I'm pretty sure they used me (or her, idk) as backup. My only guess is my pictures weren't what they wanted so they chose the route of not paying, which, TECHNICALLY, isn't against my terms of service; you just have to pay the sitting fee, you see previews w/ watermarks, and THEN you pay for each photo you actually WANT. That's a loophole I probably need to fix, because I can honestly say $20 did NOT cover my time, hyperhidrosis e x p l o s i o n, anxiety, and my previously-mentioned DAYS-long editing period. Not to mention I was and still genuinely am proud of how the pictures turned out. OKAY WOW I'm seriously ranting but yeah I'm obviously still tilted. Did you suffer illness or injury? Did I? I don't think so. At least nothing serious. I did have a fall, but the resulting bruises and twists were negligible. What was the best thing you bought? A fuckin honeybun from the school snack machine lmao. I don't have my own income, so I just get little cash from Mom if needed for when I go out or anything. Where did most of your money go? See above. So, food lol. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Sara coming on my birthday, Ozzy re-announcing his tour for next year (WITH MANSON Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!) and Mom and I being like "um fuck yes we're going," and that's all I can think about right now. It's not common I get like, THAT excited. What song will always remind you of 2019? *shrug* None off the top of my head stand out. Compared to this time last year, are you: Happier or sadder? Older or wiser? Thinner or fatter? (I've been at a weight loss stalemate for two fucking years now, so neither.) Richer or poorer? (No personal income, and I don't know the exact financial position Mom's in compared to last year.) What do you wish you’d done more of? See Sara and Dad much more, reach out to more friends, exercise, cleaning alksdjfawei, studying. What do you wish you’d done less of? Sitting on this computer gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh- I honestly would prefer to just not dwell on this "I wish I had..." subject. How did you spend Christmas? Breakfast and gift opening with Mom and my younger sis, then we went to my older sister's house that afternoon to celebrate with her and the kids. What was your favorite TV program? I didn't watch TV. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? No. What was the best book you read? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. What was your greatest musical discovery? Hm... I don't believe I discovered any new bands, but I got waaay more into Motionless In White. What did you want and get? Making it through my first semester in college, Teddy reaching his 13th birthday, seeing my grandmother for probably the last time, seeing Sara for my birthday, uhhh other things that aren't coming to mind. What did you want and not get? Lose more fucking weight for a change, more photography growth, new glasses, the courage to drive more and get my license, SEE SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK AS WELL AS THE LAST HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, other little things I don't wanna dwell on. What was your favorite film of this year? I do NOT get the hate of the live action The Lion King. I fucking adored it. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I don't remember other than hang out with Sara and the fam and probably eat at Olive Garden for dinner. I turned 23. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Photography reaching the level of being able to call it my *real* job. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019? Pajamas. Just... pajamas whenever possible lmao. What kept you sane? My mom and Sara, MUSIC, gaming, Mark and the other YTers I love way too much, school getting me out of the damn house. Oh, and medication lmfao. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? The day I don't answer this with "Mark Fischbach," I IMPLORE you to commit me. What issue stirred you the most? I'm guessing you mean political? If so, the Amazon wildfires and how the fucking SA government handled it. NOTHING in the political world has ever had me that livid, heartbroken, and ashamed of the greed of the human race. Who did you miss? A good number of people, plus Teddy of course. Who was the best new person you met? Good question. Probably a teacher or adviser at school. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019: I think more than anything, there's been a lot of focus on the fact that you can't always run at the first sign of trouble/stress. That's one of my biggest weaknesses: I flee the moment I'm under stress, but now with school, I've had to learn to fight this. It's an ongoing process, but I'm getting there. Some battles need to be fought to reach a better place.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

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satire-please · 6 years

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My Teeth Are Like Swords - Part 4

Summary: Tim’s in a sticky situation because of...Ra’s. Therefore sacrifices have to be made. Personal ones.

Part 3, Part 2, Part 1

Ao3 Link

There are few things out in the world that can startle a drake.

Ra’s al Ghul is one of them.

In fact, Tim would like to put the Demon Head near the top of that list. Especially when the villain morphs into the edge of his peripherals at another charity event the Waynes are required to attend. Guess who’s the lucky token Wayne this time?

Yep. Apparently being a dragon doesn’t increase your luck when pulling straws.

Tim manages to repress a flinch when he spots the flash of gold and green. The surprise makes his heart pound in the most unpleasant of ways. Ninjas do that after all.

“Please excuse me, gentlemen, we’ll have to continue our conversation later,” Tim smiles with charm towards a throng of investors.

He takes his drink in hand and carefully makes his way to the wall...where Ra’s watches the crowd. No, that’s not right. Where Ra’s watches him, and Tim can feel that gaze rove over his form like dirty fingers as his stride become a more purposeful march. At this museum, Tim vaguely and spitefully compares the man to the mess of artwork around him. Flowing, unironic, stupid cape arranged over a well-tailored suit, Surrealism matches the feelings the criminal provokes, a gnawing infestation under his skin. Tim’s wine glass moves to hover in front of his chest, over his core instinctively.

The man is dangerous.

He’s the type that scratches and digs to find what you hold dearest and wait for the right moment where destroying it would hurt the most. The kind with patience, the kind with knowledge, the kind that Tim knows would just love to hunt down a mythical creature of his own. Ra’s could make a poacher very...very happy and wealthy.

Tim can take him.

“Good evening...Timothy.”

“What are you doing here.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. Tim’s face might be stuck in a pleasant countenance for their surroundings, but his voice is more frigid than the Arctic.

Ra’s gestures grandly with a hand around them, “Why to admire the innovative talents that Gotham has to offer.” A crooked smirk begins to cut across his face. Sharper than any blade. “The possibilities are astounding.”

“Huh, somehow I doubt you’re here to support our talented artists for the Wounded Warrior Project.” Tim’s lip curls into a sneer, “Instead of protecting veterans, you tend to sacrifice them instead. Isn’t that way your recruitment rate is so high?”

Ra’s uncoils from his relaxed pose against the wall. “How rude, Detective. My fallen are honored, especially when they give their all to my purpose. In fact, the esteem, the respect, the glory they earn is never retracted. Tell me, is the notion the same with the Bat’s broken little boys?”

It’s a jab against Jason. Maybe even against him. Tim’s smile fractures in the corner of his lips, a fang scraping the inside of his cheek and he sets down his glass harder on passing tray than he needs to. A deep breath, two. It would be a paparazzi dream come true to capture the money shot of Timothy Drake-Wayne socking an unknown foreigner in the face. But he’s no fairy godmother. “Why don’t we take this fascinating discussion elsewhere? Somewhere more private if you want to know what else can break.” Like your face. Or his arm, Tim’s not really picky. “That way you can be out with it. You’re not here just to trade quips to piss me off. You want something.”

“You would be correct in your deductions. I require something in this cesspit, a diamond in the rough so to speak. For me to claim success, I must have your assistance.” Ra’s tilts his head in agreement. “Yet for more precise details, lead on.”

“Great, let’s go. I can’t wait to tell you no.”

Tim storms off, Ra’s following leisurely behind them as they part through the crowd. His hackles raised as he’s forced to give the assassin his back. The two make their way past the less inhabited exhibits, then into the hall towards the back offices where new art pieces are received and cataloged.

“Oh, Timothy, I am sure you know why few have dared to refuse me. Yet before our business, I must inform you, Nyssa sends her fondest regards.” Tim jerks at the whisper brushing his ear.

He twists on his heel to snarl at the looming man. Obnoxiously tall man.

“Tell her mine are not as much and next time she wants to try for free ‘seed,’ she should take the guy out for dinner first.”

Ra’s simply waves a hand for them to continue forward, “Perhaps uncouth, unconventional, and yet–”

“She chained me to a wall.”

“–Yet what a vision you must have been. Helpless, bare and dazed from the blow…truly a sight wasted when it could have been shared.” Ra’s expression turns way too salacious and Tim’s knuckles itch with possibility. “Still no matter how forward perhaps, she regrets how short your time in her clutches was. It is unbearably unfortunate your knight in shining black armor appeared so early.”

“Well, Black Bat is always to kick a rapist’s ass anytime, anywhere.” And if the criminal tries anything like that again it won’t be just Cass, it’ll be a full-size dragon ready to fry the Ghul into ash. Really, it’s just self-defense, maybe Bruce will understand.

“Some battles are worth any wound for the prize.”

Tim manages not to gag. Barely. Instead, he decides not to give Ra’s the pleasure of a response. He goes to open a door only to find it unlocked. His fingers bite into the doorknob, how many rooms did Ra’s men make available for this...meeting? How long did Ra’s plan this?

The pause gives Ra’s a chance to prompt, “A penny for your thoughts, Detective?”

“Only the one I wish I crushed you with.”

“Our first meeting was truly memorable. It is not every century, a giant piece of currency attempts to take my life.”

“Regrettably, you have this terrible habit of dodging.”

“What a wretched inconvenience I am to you,” Ra’s purrs. Though in the Detective’s favor, the experience was quite the introduction. The memory still strong of being absolutely stunned, as this pale wraith of a child maneuvered an enormous slab of copper to split him from the Bat.

“I know, right?”

“Then it is only fair for me to return the favor.” He herds the Detective into the small office. The shelves are full of covered paintings and bookkeeping litters the lone desk in the center. The smell of dust and resin permeates the air.

“You didn’t answer my question, why are you here, Ra’s?” He watches the way Ra’s prowls around examining their surroundings and Tim carefully puts the heavy desk between them. He’s not afraid. Not even nervous. Honest. But there’s no harm or shame in placing obstacles in a monster’s path.

Ra’s hums and rests his hands in the small of his back, he arches an eyebrow at the Detective. “To declare that perhaps I was too quick to judge the city of Gotham.”

“What? No,” Tim draws out sarcastically, “You think?”

“After all, why allow this filthy cesspit my presence long enough to evaluate it in full?”

“I’m surprised more people don’t punch you in the mouth whenever you open it.”

“Power, my dear,” he says absentmindedly, “However, now I see the error of my ways. I was too quick to strike, though I still long to destroy this hell, wipe it off the face of the planet like the divine fires of Gomorrah.”

“Is this the way you ask always for help? Because you suck at it.” Tim folds his arms across his chest.

A dark chuckle, “Oh, Timothy, I never ask for assistance. I demand it. Yet allow me to get to the point. Before Gotham meets its predestined fate, it may possess something of value after all.”

Tim arches a brow at him, this close from rolling his eyes.

“It is a thing...most precious. Something that must be recovered by the League at any cost, by any means possible.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Ra’s. Spit it out and get out of my face.”

“A creature. Behold these are the marks of a creature with certain properties I find...desirable.”

Yeah sure, I freaking bet.

Ra’s tosses a sheaf of papers. No. Photos. In pretty black and white, they hit the top of the desk and fan out before Tim’s eyes.

Ice.

‘Ice,’ the wraith of his mother whispers, Tim feels the memory of her nails digging into shoulders. The way she’d spin him to face the mirror and press her cheek to his. ‘Be as ice. Let the blue of your eyes harden for why should they know any intention of yours?’

Her old lessons crack like an egg over his brain, drip down his veins and out of his mouth, “Am I supposed to ooh and ahh over grappling hook marks?”

Ra’s picks up on photo to thumb the edges.“Ah. It is true they do appear similar, do they not? Yet not, Detective, such grooves are not made with any tool,” he says.

Tim’s heart starts to pound.

“Nor can these distinctive charred marks be any coincidence.”

“To what? This is Gotham. Home of unusual and burnt up buildings everywhere. I’m still not following, spit it out.” Before he does. Tim’s mouth floods with nitroglycerin, it’s thicker than saliva and coats the back of his throat. A viscous layer ready at a moment’s notice, all it needs is a spark. All it needs is a reason to burn. He swallows it down roughly. He needs to prevent any evidence, not create it, remember?

“Forgive me, you know how much I love to build up the suspense.” Ra’s crooked smile widens and he pulls something heavy from his jacket pocket, “Allow me to lay out my conclusion.”

Between his fingers is a scale.

“Somewhere in Gotham is a dragon.”

The only thing that keeps Tim breathing is that the scale isn’t black...it’s white.

“A what? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tim keeps the thread of arrogant disbelief strong in his voice. Mother would be proud. “Aren’t you too ridiculously old for fairy tales?”

“It is not a simple tale for the bed weary child,” Ra’s loses his patience. His obsessive greed bleeding through as he forces the scale into Tim’s hands. “This piece of evidence is authentic as the pit itself.”

“It just feels like a spray-painted piece of the batplane.” Tim carelessly taps it on the side of the desk. “Like a mix of plastic and alloy.”

“Be careful with that!”

Tim hits it harder against the surface. Just to hear the man growl. The keratin in the scale is weak. Seems like the dame he fought once upon a time wasn’t just stupid but malnourished as well. Scales are like nails, they show health and the brittle nature of it gives the detective more than enough to work with. In fact, if he jumped on it at a certain angle, he might be able to snap it in two.

Ra’s rips it from his fingers. Spoilsport. “That is quite enough,” he hisses through his teeth and tucks the scale protectively back into his stupid, melodramatic cape.

“So whoop-dee-doo, the Demon’s Head believes in Dungeons and Dragons. Is there a point to this lame show and tell?”

“Because I require the services of a Detective.”

“Oh goodie, I think this is my favorite part in our conversation so far. How about a Hell No?”

Ra’s hands slam against the desk caging Tim in. Tim doesn’t flinch, perhaps berating himself for not noticing Ra’s getting into range yet he stares dead straight into those jade eyes.

‘Be stone.’ Janet’s voice reminds, ‘Give them nothing to predict, nothing before you strike.’

“You forget your debt to me, Timothy,” Ra’s says venomously.

Tim tilts his head to the side eerily. There’s a coil of unease winding inside him. The word debt is a serious concept to a dragon and the instincts around it are hard to shake. “What debt? I owe you nothing. Though if you mean that lovely kick through a window, I could totally repay you for that. This art museum has a lovely roof, let’s go.”

Ra’s presses in, Tim reaches behind himself to grab his own wrist. His nails are becoming too long for his liking. A flash of desire, of digging, of gouging, of letting the intestines fall as they may. Ra’s isn’t wearing any armour...probably. “I gave you resources when you had none. When all thought your grief had turned you mad, only I believed your hypothesis that the Bat remained alive. Only I gave you that validation.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t ask for your help. I would have been fine.” His nails draw his dark blood under the sleeve of his suit.

“Your future was to be a bloody corpse on a cheap hotel bed if not for me.” Ra’s grip on the desk behind him creaks.

Tim could headbutt Ra’s, doesn’t know why he’s continuing to hear him out.

“Which wouldn’t have happened in the first place if it wasn’t for your war on the Council of Spiders. The one you gave no warning or intel for. Technically it’s you that owes me a spleen, I wasn’t the Widower’s original target after all. I was a bonus kill.”

“Come to the pit then if you are so keen for the organ’s return.” Ra’s hovers above him with malice, with interest at the notion.

“And go crazy like you? No thanks.”

“Regardless I provided aid for your quest, now it is time for you to take your aid in mine. Furthermore what better than a Drake finding a drake?”

“Drake-Wayne, remember.”

“And what would the other dear Waynes think of our past association.” Ra’s finally leans away from him, his hands trailing on the wood before gesturing behind them. Ah, so that’s Ra’s real angle, blackmail. Go figure. “The Bat may think that our interactions were justified for your noble cause, yet somehow I think otherwise. I admit I am beyond curious for his reaction to those lovely months we spent together.”

Tim could rattle off a thousand reasons why that rationale was a pile of shit. That, okay. Fine. Bruce would glower, brood, and never trust Tim again, but, hey, after the Boomerbang incident maybe that ship has sailed to the Bahamas and back. Plus, if B can’t weigh the definite pros to the whole knocking out the Council of Spiders and taking Ra’s down a peg as a decent notch on his vigilante belt, well...Tim is a big boy anyway.

A big dragon.

Pieces of your hoard don’t have to trust you anyway. They just need to stay alive and safe.

Safe. Wait, oh.

“You’re such a bastard, Ra’s.” Tim grits out, but he’s going to take this deal. Not for Ra’s ‘debt’ and how the term makes his inner wyrm burn. Not for Bruce’s sensibilities. But for the most important thing, his mother drilled into his head over and over again.

The safety of control.

His face is cold, but his belly is hot. “Where do we start?” This is a mess to clean, his show to run, and his plan is solid.

Ra’s smiles.

So does Tim. He can’t wait to see the assassin’s’ aspirations go up in flames after all.

***

He manages to keep the Bats uninvolved for a record of forty-eight hours. It’s an accomplishment Tim should take note of really.

For example, he managed to scramble Barbara’s cameras subtly, though he’ll a semi truck of gourmet coffee to get back in her good graces when she finds out, just so Ra’s can show off various pieces of evidence his men have found around the city without surveillance. Tim had dutifully nodded during lengthy monologues only to innocently suggest that wouldn’t it be better to catalog all their data in one place? It’s so easy to convince Ra’s to have the marked roof tiles and stones removed, so easy to retrieve them later. Mother would scold him for how clumsy he had been. The least he can do is exterminate the crumbs that a wolf took advantage of.

Meanwhile, he throws out other morsels to divert and distract, “Looks like your ‘dragon’” Tim mockingly uses finger quotes. “Hasn’t been here for long. Maybe two months at most.”

“Oh? How can you deduce that?” Ra’s crouches down to trail his fingers over the grooves where Tim had stupidly filed his claws weeks ago. Stupid hygiene.

“The lack of erosion. Gotham has had a rainy year. Notice the iron embedded here and here next to the mark?” He points at the orange strain spreading over the bricks, “If made last year, the rust would bleed into the scratches yet note the chunk lacks any of that.”

Ra’s purrs, “Clever, Detective. So our drake must be new to the city. What a godforsaken place for it choose for its migration.”

“Not if it has the ability of camouflage.” Tim shrugs. The wind ripping through his cape as he eyes the security camera trying to turn their way and glitching. He has another three minutes before Babs catches on.

“In bright hues of white? I think not,” Ra’s scoffs.

“You said that dragons have powers beyond your ken. Is it really out of the realm of conception? If moths can do it, why can’t fire-breathing imaginary creatures?” Two minutes.

“What an excellent point. It would give a reason for it to stay as well. My resources tell me that old cities provide the best nooks and rubble for one to hide their trove. Plus, the larger the city, the more ease the drake has to blend in.”

“Blend in?” Tim parrots. Shit.

“Why, of course. Not only does a dragon have strength and intelligence, but over eons, their best defense is to hide in plain sight.” Ra’s straightens to stand and looks to the night skyline. Tim thinks about the scales that not even makeup can hide behind his ear. The black iridescent ones that dot his collar bones that Dick once poked at and cooed before smothering him without another blanket.

Heat regulation is still a bitch.

“Gotham.” Ra’s draws out the name. “Full of blind spots, full of soft brick and lead to dig through, full of abnormalities that over time each turns into a just another mundane occurrence to the public. Yes. I can now see the appeal that could persuade a drake.”

He sounds so much like his mother that Tim’s posture becomes still and rigid. His fist clenches on his knee. She always did mention that this was the perfect breeding ground for similar reasons. Even when he was young, she’d encourage him to stalk the city instead of stay in the mansion, her hoard, just in case. Even to the point of taking him into an alley since he was five, turn her face into one wall and slowly count to twenty. His record in evading her? Three hours.

If Tim wanted to disappear, really disappear into Gotham’s underbelly? He could.

He knows how to hide.

“It seems we have been discovered, my Detective.” Ra’s smiles at him from the side. “What a pity. Our progress to this point has been phenomenal.”

But there’s always a time and place to hide and when the clock hits forty-eight hours and fourteen minutes, Tim doesn’t bother to make any move against the flash of a cape in his peripheral. “Not your detective, Ra’s. Have your men collect the rest of the samples and we’ll reconvene once I analyze the possibilities of your fairytale whereabouts.”

“Very well. Oh, and do tell your mentor that I find myself sorely disappointed at his waning skills of concealment. A true agent of the night would never be drawn from the shadows so easily.”

Tim mutters, “He’s doing on purpose. If he didn’t want you to see him, you wouldn’t see him.” It’s more of Bruce waving a goddamn flag of ‘I know you’re in my city, get out of my city.’

“Besides every hunter knows how to distract dangerous prey,” a new voice says disdainfully.

They turn to the slight figure who managed to sneak only a foot or two away from them. One steel-toed green boot (a present from Jason) tapping the roof impatiently. Crossed arms over the Robin uniform, Damian Wayne has mastered the art of glaring with a domino on. “Grandfather, must your ninjas multiply like ants?”

Ra’s huffs through his nose, “Many hands make light work, Grandson. Farewell, Timothy. I await your every enlightenment.” And like a true magician, he throws his gaudy cape over a shoulder and disappears into the night.

Tim’s shoulders release, but he notes that Damian’s do not. Oh. He’s mad at him. Though to be fair, that is Damian’s default emotion to anything.

Damian begins his hissing tirade, “I should submit you to Arkham myself. Such displays of insanity, must you attempt suicide in the most ridiculous of complex fashions? Why else would you positively associate with my grandfather?”

“One, I know what I’m doing. Two, there is nothing positive about it.” He gets up and away from the building edge before Damian gets the magical idea to shove him off it. Again.

Damian gets closer, one finger stabbing in his direction, “Why does video evidence say otherwise? You are clearly working in tandem with his aims. To think that father would even believe that you are being coerced is beyond my ken. Do you wish to die, Drake?”

The name is emphasized more than normal, and Tim gets his implication immediately.

“I have this under control, but thanks for worrying, brat.”

“Worrying? Why would I be worrying? You must be insane, yes, this is further evidence that padded walls would suit you.”

“Padded walls are flammable,” Tim reminds him.

With his thumb, he makes a small gesture and Damian’s breath hitches minutely. Even Tim can smell the Demon Head’s men. He can hear them. Their rabbit-like heartbeats underneath the awning are enough in his limited range. “But you’re right in a way, I am going along with Ra’s for a bit. For as long as it suits both our purposes. Though why he would willingly work with someone who double-crossed him before definitely needs the lesson of, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Tim then hums in the back of his throat. “Actually, he’s probably already expecting that. It sounds like just the game he loves to play.”

“But is it one that you are assured to win?” Damian grabs his wrist to tug him along. Grayson wants him home immediately. The moment Oracle sent a live feed of Tim’s current companion to all the Bats, Robin wondered if he would have to take measures to aid his mentor through a panic attack. It was not pleasant. Grayson is very...concerned over the welfare of his brothers.

Tim snorts, “Please, who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A fool.” Ouch, Babybat doesn’t need a katana to cut him in half. The grip on his arm tightens, even as they descend into the alleyway where the Batmobile waits. It sits with the top already open, eager to trap Tim so specific overprotective brooding vigilantes can sit on him.

Lame.

Somehow telling the Bats of his true nature has multiplied every unnecessary precaution by a factor of eleven.

Damian shoves Tim into the vehicle. B moves in the driver seat to stare at him. A lot, not bothering to twist back to look out the windshield, just pushing the button for autopilot in a very pointed manner.

Damian presses the com in his mask subtly. So anyone on the line can hear his interrogation. “Now tell us. What shall you do in the matter concerning my grandfather? This is beyond a simple threat against your very person.”

Tim thinks of the scattered white scales he scraped off the dame. How they must litter the sand on that beach like sparkling stones. He thinks of the trail he could plant, not that he can just point the League of Assassins in her direction, not even when the offensive white plastic bag of a dragon deserves it. No, he needs to create the perfect dead end to Ra’s little expedition. But how could he–

The light bulb comes on and blood fills his mouth as his fangs drop. Can he really?

“Oh, you know what? I’m going to give him exactly what he wants, Damian.” Tim decides grimly, “I’m going to find him a dragon.”

***

Tim is going to throw up.

The stalactites drip around him, the sound that was once soothing but now every drop that hits the wet floor makes him want to retch. He shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be here.

Not in this particular network of caves.

“Are you sure the creature will be found here? The opening is far too small to accommodate their size,” Ra’s demands. The band of his men are few, only the chosen may aid him in this task to witness what the Detective has wrought. They have traveled approximately twenty minutes, yet with every second his appetite grows at the possibility, at the results of Timothy’s work. The boy is clever. However, the tunnel narrows here and there, scraping their chests as the rock practically hugs their forms.

“Stop doubting me. You said dragons are shapeshifters right? So why couldn’t they transform back and forth to crawl in here and hide? I’m only going off of the intel you gave me, Ra’s. The beach where you found the scale is not far from here. Plus look at these.” His boots make a hard crunch in the dim light of a torch.

Ra’s is a traditional, dramatic egoist, of course. A freaking torch.

“Prey,” the assassin breathes out. His eyes glittering in greed. It makes Tim want to shift forms, to roar at this filth entering this place with such hunger. Under their feet, stretching for a good thirty feet is a cemetery of bones. Most of the skeletons clearly intact with white and yellow rib cages on display.

“There must be at least a hundred of them,” Ra’s declares.

There are not. There are only forty-three. Tim does not correct Ra’s though.

The antechamber begins to widen until it has about a fifty-yard radius. The light flickers, yet the shadow of Ra’s’ hand gives an obvious signal, “Spread out. Search. This area appears most...promising.”

Tim wanders among the wet stone in a pretense of looking around as Ra’s men discrete this place with their presence. He avoids the west side of the chamber. His gloves running their hands on a wet large skull or two. Kills he had been proud of once upon a time. Those kills he had been sure would entice his–

“My lord! We have found something!”

–his mother to eat.

“No.” A voice roughly snarls. “No!”

On the ground, a few white scales lie in patches next to a giant boulder that stretches alongside the back cave wall. The details of long limbs and a tail are obvious and simple.

Tim’s fingers come up to squeeze the backs of his elbows, hugging himself for a moment. His inner core fluctuating, his heartbeat loud but he manages to repress the urge of curling up by her.

“This cannot be!”

What would mother think of him? To use her corpse as a diversion like this? To give Ra’s an empty platitude of what he wants? Would she be proud?

Yes.

Ra’s fury and despair gets loud, “I have only just found you! Why? How could I be too late?”

Janet always scolded Tim for his soft sentimentality. A tool is a tool. A resource is a resource. It is truer to their nature to use any means to fulfill their objective.

“The dead are dead, my pet,” Mother reminded him whenever she took him hunting, the claws of her painted nails sweeping delicately under his eyes when she found him sniffling over the wild kill of a deer. “They do not feel your tears. Our long memories exist to never forget what was. Now eat, the meat will soon grow cold and you make a mockery of the life by wasting it.”

No, Tim never got the ‘stop playing with your food! You should be grateful, some people in China are starving’ approach to picky eating. And Mother always kept him fed one way or another.

Tim comes up behind Ra’s, “So this is your dragon. Huh, is it supposed to look like that?”

Ra’s twists to snarl at him. “No, it is not. Not unless it is–”

“Dead?”

Tim admits Ra’s is rocking the look of utter anguish right now. If he wasn’t steeling himself, keeping his voice and expression blank he’d be howling with bitter victory.

“What happened to it?”

Ra’s reaches out to pet rough features of a jaw morosely. “The legends say that once the lifespan of such a beast ends, they naturally calcify into stone.”

Tim very much wants a copy of those legends. Too many things they’ve gotten right. “I thought they lived forever?”

“No,” Ra’s says, schooling his grief into something more palatable. “They do not, yet they can live on for several centuries.”

“Like you,” Tim points out. “With the help of the pit that is. Why do you want a dragon anyway?”

Carefully he steps around the man, trying to angle his cape a certain way.

“Why does any man seek power and beauty? Such things are what drive and keep the human race alive. With a dragon, I would be absolutely unstoppable.”

“You are already pretty unstoppable, how about you give the rest of mankind a fighting chance? You got power, check. You got the ultimate green regimen against aging that every older woman would gladly beat you to death for, check. Maybe you should just stick with trying to rule the world bit instead of chasing magical creatures.”

A chuckle. How interesting that the Detective can sway his despondent mood so easily. Oh, how he longs… “Even I need a pet project, Timothy. Besides do you not think the years would pass more gracefully with such a companion, such a specimen by my side?”

“Somehow I think the specimen would be more inclined to end your years rather than spend them with you.” In fact, Tim is sure of it.

“Ah, but what is life without the thrill of surprise? Whatever bond we forge will never be without fire.”

Tim snorts. Well, that’s an understatement. Still, he lifts a glove to trace the stone closed lid of an eye. Just like he did so many years ago, he’s positioned himself well. Maybe they won’t find his–

“What do we have here?” Ra’s pushes past him with an air of curiosity.

Gosh, how many times will Tim bite his lips raw tonight?

“Lift that up.” Ra’s motions his men to hurry. True the beast would be far more preferable breathing, but he can still catalog the proof of their existence. Plus even this is a find. The body is wedged tightly between the stone paws but any resistance is solved with a strong pull. “Come, Detective, you must see this.”

Reluctantly Tim stands near the new find.

How long did it take for him to swallow his grief? Just to pull off stealing his dad’s corpse? To crack open the heavy mahogany coffin and wrap the rotting remains carefully in a sheet. The fabric soiling quickly with the putrid oozing bits. It wouldn’t do to have flesh remaining, not on the body of a mate, but the cave bugs and open-air took care of that. In fact, Tim only had to wait a month to adorn the skeleton befitting of his worth as a dragon’s husband.

With the sockets clear, Tim worked in two egg-like sapphires the same shade of his eyes. A border of pearls and pink stones for a nose. He weaved fine chains of gold as a delicate filigree in and out of ribs. Each piece back then gave a sense of calm. Tim always knew this task would fall to him one day, never so soon, but, hey, that’s death for you. Final. Inevitable. He's most likely bound to do it for his brothers, for Bruce as well.

There’s a final piece attached to the hips in braided silver; the first “discovery” Janet and Jack Drake found on an archaeological dig together. A saber sword almost appearing of Assyrian origin. Mother may have recounted the story a few times to send Tim to sleep. How adorable, her mate looked waving around one of her fangs excitedly like that. How easy it was to convince him to display the treasure in their private home, right above their bed. How quaint to watch the man fondly as he stoked the sword before bed when her dear had no idea what it really was.

It had been one of Tim’s favorite bedtime stories. Where sleep took him fast at the warm purr in Mother’s voice.

“This is a meager compensation, but it will have to do.” The Demon Head yanks the sword from Tim’s father’s bones. It cracks both the radius and ulna of the arm and Tim sees red. “It would be a shame for a treasure such as this to waste away here. A fang. A real fang, my dear Detective.”

“Are you done playing graverobber? It won’t be long before Batman catches your trail.” Tim manages to bite out. His eyes narrowing under the cowl. His eyesight too clearly taking in the breaks in the stone and bone, the footsteps that mock this place, the way the ninja crawl over his mother like black maggots.

He needs them gone. Now.

Ra’s eyebrows raise, “Our trail, Timothy. Yet why waste this moment of limited triumph? Allow me at least to bask in the sight of the creature.”

“Bask later.” There is a second of tension. Where all ninja in the cave go still, ready for the command to attack. Their bodies tighten. Tim casually turns on his heel and walks towards the cave opening. Then with a roll of the Demon Head’s shoulders, a minuscule tilt of the head orders the ninja to concede to the vigilante’s wishes. Besides, Ra’s sweeps his gaze over the beast and plans. They require more men, more tools to recover this...treasure. So he follows after Timothy, to the edge of the cave and back into the dark, one hand almost hovering over the small of his slim back. His fingers twitch when the boy says, “Is this the first time you’ve seen one?”

“No, it is my third.” Tim’s face pinches at that. “The first happened in my earliest centuries, capturing the sight of one in flight. The second during a war campaign, in human form.”

Ra’s eyes slide over Tim’s body. “Did you know they look exactly like us, Detective? Almost identical in every conceivable way. If not for a few errant scales here and there hidden under their clothing.”

Tim’s own tender scales itch under the suit. “How could you tell?” Tim asks.

Ra’s smirks, “Drakes reveal themselves in times of high emotion. They are easy to rile. Then it is quite simple to observe their flashing eyes and other tells.”

Janet Drake could be milliseconds from ripping off his head with not a hair out of place, Tim can be, will be the same.

The skyline reflects over the water as they emerge from the narrow opening in the rock. Each building’s light almost looks like a star in the smoky haze. Under their feet, except for the lapping waves, the beach is quiet as not one of the party makes a sound.

The silence breaks. “Are you finished? Did you get what you needed?” Tim fiddles with something in the pouch over his chest.

“Never. Not until a drake’s heart beats in my own chest. Yet my eyes have seen another fine specimen, my suspicions have been confirmed...and my trophy is adequate.” Ra’s caresses the dragon fang sword now adorned at his hip. “I am done with Gotham for a season.”

“Good.” And Tim lifts his hand showing the detonator.

Ra’s eyes go wide, his mouth opens to shout.

Tim presses it.

His eyes remain glaciers while his back feels the rush of heat and smoke from the explosion behind. It bellows around him as the earth shifts violently, shudders and settles. Ra’s ninja bend over to protect themselves from the blast as Ra’s himself coughs over and over into his fist.

Tim doesn’t bother. He doesn’t turn around either.

It’ll hurt too much if he does.

‘The dead are dead, my pet.’

“Detective.” Ra’s face is contorted in a grimace of rage.

“What’s wrong, Ra’s? You said it, not me. You were done. Now I believe I’ve repaid any debt to you in full, a mystery for a mystery and gosh don’t you think that’s enough sightseeing of Gotham for you?”

“I could have sent teams to investigate those remains further. With the discovery of such a preserved creature and you–”

“Graves are for the living. The dead don’t care,” Tim says with a chilling smile, “Maybe I grew tired of watching you break and fondle old bones.”

“You destroyed the cave! The incredible wonder. How is that preferable to my actions?”

The crumbling rock should be enough to cover up the nearly-silent sounds of boots, of Gotham’s shadows taking their final positions twelve seconds after the explosion as planned.

Through the haze, Red Robin smiles white in the night, “It’s preferable because I get to piss you off. Now get out of my city, I promise you the only drake here is me.”

“And I promise you, Detective. The destruction of your city will be just as quick and ruthless as that cave.” Ra’s storms towards him, but the shadows take shape, and the yellow insignia comes through the dusk, the glint of the red helmet, and maybe a little blue and black mixed in, all the colors of the night flaring out over Red Robin’s shoulder, a heavy hand, gloved and gauntleted, ready for the fight, gives a brief squeeze of encouragement.

“You heard my son, Ra’s. it’s time to leave our city.”

But Nightwing gives a laugh, twirling one escrima stick through his fingers, “Nah. I think you should stay a while. This would make good fighting terrain. How many ninjas do you think made it out of that blast again?”

There’s a snort through synths and Red Hood nudges Robin, who’s standing next to him, “Gotta say, I don’t think it’s gonna be enough to keep the five of us interested for long, you feel me here, Baby Bird?”

“Tt, we were promised a sensational final brawl, Drake, and here you have failed to deliver.”

“I’m not Santa Claus, Robin. How was I supposed to know Ra’s men would be so lame?”

“I had expectations that your plan would yield better results.”

Tim’s lips twitch. “Pfft. Next time, you can plan the bad guy takedown, and I’ll go get roof tacos with B, N, and Hood. Deal?”

“I think for now,” B interrupts the witty banter, moving with a swish of his cape to stand by Red Robin’s side, putting them shoulder-to-shoulder, “we’re going to say it one. Last. Time. Get the hell out of our city.”

And the depth of B’s voice is the thing that makes him the most feared man in the city. It’s enough to make Ra’s al Ghul pause and narrow his eyes over at Red Robin.

“Touche, Detective. As always, you never fail to disappoint during one of our little...games.” And even if he doesn’t move any closer, doesn’t even tighten his hold over the fang, Tim feels a shiver run down his spine. “Enjoy your victories for now, Timothy, but one day you may see this very fang again, and your blood will sate it.”

And even if it’s just way overdone, Ra’s gives barely a twitch of his fingers and the shadowy assassins leap away, running as they’re bid, and Ra’s himself turns sharply on his heels, clutching the fang by his side.

The Bats all take a collective breath.

As one, four heads swing to the vigilante in the middle, arms crossed and toes tapping.

“Okay, so not my best plan maybe, but it’s been one hell of a night. Can we just call it and go home?” Red Robin looks again at the rubbled remains of his family’s burial site, the space in his chest hollow even with the victory.

“I’m pretty much on board with that plan,” and because B knows about pain like this, sharp and biting when it comes to things that can never be regained. He pointedly grips one of Red’s shoulders, turns him gently away from the remains. “Besides, we have a meeting tomorrow and I need you to make me look like a rich idiot, remember?”

The returning laugh is tinged with sadness and B gives him another pat before leading the way back to the Batplane waiting for them all.

“We’re riding with Timmy!” Nightwing calls, already wrapping himself around one of Red’s arms. Hood lays a hand on Red’s other, giving a gentle squeeze.

Robin chuffs at them and leaps into the cockpit with Batman, waving them away to the plan Red came in to meet Ra’s.

Hood takes over, warming the plane up to fly while Nightwing hangs in the back with Red, pulling off the cowl so Tim couldn’t hide.

“Tell me really, are you okay, Baby Bird?” Dick gently tugs his brother into his body, taking in how he sags into the hold.

“I’m...fine.” Tim grips the arm half around his neck, careful of his claws under the gauntlets. “I just, you know, destroyed the grave of my parents. Let the most disgusting man walk away with my mother’s fang. I just–”

“Ensured your safety by leading Ra’s around by the nose.” Bruce finishes through the comm link in the planes. “The Demon Head will never suspect your nature now. When he returns it’ll be for your head, not your heart...we can work with that.”

“Yeah, death is just so much easier to work with than being hunted, captured like a pretty pet and trained as one,” Tim mutters.

“Plus Bats never stay dead!” Jason yells back in an ugly fashion.

“Seconded,” is Dami deadpanning in the back.

“I’ll worry about it when the day comes. Until then, I’m going to be very glad my secret is safe.” But Tim sits heavily, head dangling between his shoulders, so fucking tired. A hand reaching back pats his calf while Jay stays at the controls, and Dick flops beside him, already wrapping a long arm around his ribs.

“You’re safe,” Dick says low in his ear, low enough that the plane’s microphones can’t pick it up. “That’s what matters. You’re safe with us, and when that day comes, we’ll be here, Tim. We. Will. Be. Here.”

After the reassuring squeeze to his calf and the vigilante crushing his spine, hearing the low purr of B and Robin’s engine through the comm link, knowing Alfred is at home waiting with coffee and food and bandages, all of it makes him feel that much better.

“Our love is a terrible thing,” his mother’s voice whispers from memory. “But take comfort in this, you are mine. Now, until my last breath and forever.”

Tim...can work with that.

#my writing #dragon tim #my teeth are like swords #tim drake #batfic #fic rec #writing is hard #longest chapter yet #because of Ra's #batfamily #had help with the ending from Iphoenixrising #since you know she's awesome

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crowwingedangel · 6 years

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My vacation, Part 2: Colossalcon!

This is for everyone who keeps asking me how my time going home/at the convention was. Actually, I’m not very good with talking about my emotional reactions and things on the spot… I’m a writer. I do much better writing it out. So that’s what I’m doing now! If you’re one of those people who wanted to know, or are just curious, feel free to look under the cut!

Below is my experience at the convention! It’s long and will have photos, so check it out!

Wednesday

So I got to Kalahari around 5 and parked my car. It was still pretty early, so there was plenty of parking around. I went to check in, only to learn that my room was fairly close to where I parked my car! SCORE!

I then spent some time making trips to the room with my stuff... I brought a bunch of food, since I knew con food is really expensive, and the room itself was a lot... and I had a VIP pass, so this con was costly enough already. Heh... Luckily though, I got all of my stuff in just before the rain showed up!

My friend I was sharing the room with wasn’t going to arrive until Thursday afternoon, so I had this night to myself. I went and registered for the con and got my pass, then I proceeded to walk around... get the layout of the land, as it where. Alas, my phone was pretty full, so I didn’t take lots of pictures of everything I saw... In fact, I only took a few the whole weekend. But a lot of people took photos, so check out the colossalcon tag if you want an idea of what I saw! I wandered around for a while before heading back to the room and deciding to spend the night chilling... I took a nice bath in the giant tub, then spent the evening making a semi-update for Crimson Wings. That mutant class update? Yeah, I made it during this down time. Eventually I went to bed, knowing I’d have a long day following.

Thursday

The con officially began! I took my time waking up in the morning, and decided to explore for a while, waiting for my friend to arrive. I didn’t wear any cosplay that morning, wanting to save it for when she got there, and wanting to look at everything for a while as myself before I changed...

So I went! Not knowing what to do other then look around, I guessed. But luckily, I came across the usual “I need friends” signs that happen at cons. So, seeing as I was alone, I decided, “why not?” I approached, and made some new friends and we all hugged sexy Jesus (yes you just read that). You may have figured out by now that I don’t really like using people’s names on the Internet so... I’ll just say that the two girls had the same name and the guy’s name was my middle name! There, now some of you may know one of their names...

We hung out for a while and met up several times throughout the con! I’m very socially awkward at making friends, so I’m kind of proud that I managed it... But two of them were dressed as two of my favorite twins when I first saw them, so that helped! We went to the game room and played things for a while, mostly team music games. One of them was like a master at them, but we did pretty good as a team!

Eventually went to the craft fair and saw all the cool stuff people had made and were selling. Eventually my friend arrived and we had to split up, but like I said, I kept in contact with these guys after!

So I met up with my friend, the one who basically functions as my editor for my writing... Did you know my writing has an editor? Well, now you do. I helped get her stuff to the room, and while she got settled, I changed into my Edward Elric cosplay. I don’t have any pictures of this cosplay, but a bunch of people took photos of me, so if one turns up, I’ll put it here! We wandered about and I showed her around. And we finally started buying stuff. I got an Non-binary and an Ace-ace patch. I don’t know what I’m going to put them on, but I liked them! I also got one of those ironed-bead sprite Mad Dummy and a small fox pattern pouch... But then of course I finally found the plushies in the dealer room. And there... was a chubby lucario. I made him mine. ...Well, he was always mine, wasn’t he?! He’s actually under my arm right now as I type this! He’s some comfy! Oh, I can take a photo of him right now, can’t I?

Here he is! My fat boi! So chubby and cute, I love him!

Eventually my friend and I made it back to our room and chilled for the rest of the evening, eating snacks and reading webcomics. I’m pretty good and getting my friends into more webcomics, I think... I had her catch up on a pretty long one that night while we listened to the sounds of party around us.

Friday

Friday, oh boy what I day. It was certainly fun and interesting! So, I (and my grandma, she did the sewing part) worked very hard on a cosplay of RGB from The Property of Hate by @modmad.

I think it turned out very well, and you can see more pictures in my post here. But, being summer and all, it was very hot and the head was pretty much and oven. I could only wear it for bursts of 20 minutes to half an hour at a time before I’d need to go back to the room and rest. I still think it looked cool though, and some people recognized who I was so mission accomplished I guess! But also... @modmad, is his vision really as limited from that screen as I could see? Because there is no peripheral vision at all, someone get him a seeing-eye hero!

I wandered about the convention a lot that day sans the head so that I could... be alive, haha. But I bought myself some manga and ordered a commission that I will probably fill you all in more on later once it is made! ;3 (It’s Crimson Wings related.) It’s by the same artist I bought some buttons from a few years back... And I bought more buttons, of course! I needed my snoot-snoot seal!

In the evening, I had my VIP autograph session... I had brought something for most of them (at least the ones I had stuff for, unfortunately I didn’t own anything to bring for the two ladies :C). I knew I was going to be meeting Steve Blum, so I switched into my Terriermon outfit I had made with my grandma. At the session, I met up with the trio of friends from the other day (I had met up with them earlier that day too, but only for a few minutes). We talking in the lines and such while we waited! I got to meet a few awesome people, including Chris Patton, who I caved and bought a Greed poster to have him sign... I love Greed, you guys... I also met Vic Mignogna and had him sign my FMA Brotherhood DVD set, and met Steve Blum and had him sign my Digimon Tamers DVD (he also kept talking in Guilmon’s voice and I was losing it.) My friends also had Vic do the coffee scene from Ouran which you can see on one of their instagrams here! I also got photos with Vic and Steve because I am weak.

Awesomeness.

Then later that night my editor friend and I went to the Kalahari pool for the after hours time we had! We went nearing midnight, and did stuff like the wave pool, the hot tub, and the lazy river for a while. We were about to leave when I ran into the friend trio again, so we went back into the wave pool for a while before finally heading back to the room. It was like 3 in the morning and I had an early Nintendo photoshoot I wanted to get to!

Saturday

Saturday I cosplayed as Pit the whole day. Nintendo had an early photoshoot that day (well, early considering how late we were up that night and how it’d take a while to get dressed. We’re still waiting for all the photos to come out from it, but it’s page is here. And one photo is out at least with me and the other awesome Pit in it!

It was a lot of fun, and all the smash brothers poses and things were a blast and I hope more photos show up soon! Like we beat up Sandbag and there was the smash ball and-... lots of playing around, I hope they turn up. Unfortunately the Zelda shoot was at the same time, so no Zelda or Link for us... what’s up with that?

Anyway, after that my friend and I hung out in the room for a while, needing to relax after being up so early... I showed her some youtube videos and made her laugh so hard she fell off the bed. Good times! Then we headed back to the con and did more shopping around, smaller things like charms and stickers now, and went to some panels. I said good bye to my new trio of friends who were leaving that afternoon, and hopefully they are doing well!

By the evening I had to go to the room a while because I wasn’t feeling great... I actually bought some actual food at the con because the food we had was basically running out and I needed something to settle my stomach. But when we grabbed food we headed to the Masquerade (The skit / cosplay contest) and watched that! I still chuckle that Tony Stark was the host. It was a lot of fun, and the skits were fun, including some really good singers and a Nurse Joy who wanted to become a trainer (that one had some very clever props, just saying). And those cosplays were amazing. Much appreciation. The halftime show was hilarious, our side’s champion two girls beating the other side’s two men at a blind-folded donut eating contest-... It’s a long story, and this is long enough as it is, haha.

After it was over, my friend and I headed back to the room and ended the night watching some youtube.

Sunday

Alas, the con was basically over. I wore my Terriermon cosplay that day since it’s the simplest and isn’t hot. We had to check out by ten, and my friend had to leave at ten, so we basically got up in the morning, packed my car, and parted ways as she was picked up. I stayed a little longer to check out the flee market. I found some good stuff and spend more money (of course! More pokemon plush for me! ...And some really old digimon toys. Nice.) Once I felt I had checked everything out and had basically spent the last of the cash I had brought with me, I headed back out to my car to start my drive to my parent’s house... I arrived, and then had dinner with my family, including my aunt and uncle at a restaurant, then turned in for the night, having to catch an early flight back down here in the morning...

AND that was the con, everyone! It was a lot of fun and I tried to sort out as much as I could here! I hope that helped answer the basic question of how it was! If you have any more specific questions, feel free to ask!

#Colossalcon #colossalcon 2018 #My Face #Cosplay #The Crow Caws

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doylewesleywalls · 4 years

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flickr

An Image of Becca in Praise of Girls Who Have It by Doyle Wesley Walls Via Flickr:

This photo of Becca is part of my “Photo Album Series” (see below), and I place it here to praise her and criticize some others.

Not long ago I photographed a traveling model who came through my area. From her profile on a modeling site, I thought it likely that she would be a very good prospect for a shoot. But that was not to be. Rarely have I seen such a lackluster excuse for “modeling.” And she thought of herself as somebody worthy of pay. But it wasn’t just laziness or lack of concentration or a lack of energy or her greed for money. She had no presence, no understanding of presence. Not once do I recall her looking at my camera lens with anything approaching the passion and—how shall I put this?--knowledge of life I see here in Becca. At one point I thought about asking the “model” if she were familiar with THE SIMPSONS. Here is, I would then say, whether she had enjoyed some of that series or not, one of my favorite lines from the powerhouse character Lisa Simpson to Doris, the lunch lady: Lisa: [Drolly.] “Do you remember when you lost your passion for this work?” The “model” was old enough to be an adult, yes, but too immature to be in her early 20s. She was too young to have lost her passion for the work. I have no more respect for a model who expects payment for just going through the motions than I do a university faculty member who just puts in his or her time for the money.

In the Tennessee Williams’ play CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF, Big Daddy sees “life” in his daughter-in-law, Maggie the Cat (played in the fine film version by an actress famous for having life in her, Elizabeth Taylor). I believe this image of Becca shows that she, too, has “life” in her. When I photographed her, Becca was younger than the “model” I’ve described who should have known more than she did. Becca didn’t need me to coach her. She gladly gave me that pose, that look. I had seen Becca as we both stood on opposite sides of a street waiting for the light to change. I had noticed her elegance, her beauty, her sex appeal. So I waited for her to cross over, and then I introduced myself and told her I’d like to photograph her. Within minutes we were walking around, shooting, engaging our creative selves, working together. I was only beginning to shoot portraits at the time, and I think most of what I shot of her as the sun set late that evening wasn’t worthy of her; but we had fun, some good practice for me, and I did capture this shot. I recall that Becca wanted to be photographed by that car (it was blue with a white top) because she liked the car. She selected the car as a prop because she had blood pumping through her soul.

PAS Photo Album Series

This is an iPhone photo I recently took of an old print of mine made before I went digital and before I had any web presence. As you can see, I chose to leave the print in the sleeve of the old photo album. These iPhone photos of prints, that is, this one, a few others I’ve posted already, and many more to come, and even the old albums that can be seen on the edges of these shots, flood me with great memories, primarily memories of the beautiful women who agreed to pose when I first began to work on portraiture. Few, if any, of these women were members of a modeling site; they weren’t participating in order to be paid money. They were simply creative people who were interested in photography, and, like me, they were curious to see what the results would look like. I would live it all again.

#Doyle Wesley Walls #Becca #models #modeling #traveling models #beautiful girl

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singulari-taee · 7 years

Text

The Danger in Duality | 02

BTS X Reader

CW: Violence

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

When you reached the second floor, you banged your fist against the door of the apartment.

It cracked open, out peeking Yoongi with a bored expression, “May I help you?”

“Well you can start by letting me in,” you said.

He seemed to be thinking about it, but the pensive look disappeared almost immediately, “Nah, you can stay outside.”

He tried to close the door but you caught it with your shoulder and forced it open, stumbling in, “Did you seriously think that would work?”

“No, but it was worth a try.”

You and Yoongi didn’t actually hate each other, but it wasn’t always that way. Years back in your training days, the hostility came from competitiveness. You both were The Academy’s hand-to-hand combat prodigies, excelling in everything from martial arts to knife work. The rankings were always close between the two of you, and you both tried your hardest to outdo the other to impress instructors. You couldn’t stand his quiet arrogance, and he your carefree flare. Though the hard feelings had to be put aside when you were assigned to the same squad. It was kind of ironic, because you didn’t talk at all before in The Academy, opting for cold stares and hard hits whereas now you couldn’t stop coming for each other’s throats.

Your current hostility came out more as a habit since you really didn’t know how to co-exist any other way.

The apartment was spacious and simply decorated. It looked like any other home for 20 something year old males, except for the weapons spread out on every flat surface. Jungkook sat at the dining room table, cleaning one of his guns as he talked to Jimin. Taehyung was standing in the kitchen eating a sandwich when he looked up and saw you walk in.

“Hey, ______!” he called through a mouthful of bread, coming over to hug you like he hadn’t just seen you hours ago, “How was your workout?”

“I’ve had better but it was alright. Thanks for asking,” you reached up and ran your fingers through his messy hair.

He was like the little brother you never had, and he normally didn’t give you a headache like the rest. Or when he did, it didn’t last long.

“See? Why can’t you be more like Tae?” you asked Yoongi.

He stared at you blankly, sending a look that said ‘Don’t insult my intelligence like that.’

“Okay everybody, _______’s here. Let’s hurry up and get this mission review done before we get our next assignment,” Namjoon called from his place on the sofa next to Hoseok and Seokjin.

Everyone walked over, taking their seats on the cushions and floor to get a good look at the oldest’s computer screen.

“Let’s start off with Joon, how many kills did you get last night?” Seokjin asked.

“3.” he replied.

“Yoongi?”

“4.”

Hoseok?”

“4.”

“Jimin?”

“5.”

“Tae?”

“3.”

“Jungkook?”

“7.”

“_______?”

“6.”

Seokjin’s fingers worked on the keys as he plugged the numbers into the database log, “Okay that’s 32.”

“Those are slightly above average numbers, not counting whoever else was still alive when the bomb went off,” Namjoon added, “Good job everyone.”

All the information Seokjin put into his computer went straight to The Academy to be reviewed. The model itself wasn’t even on the market, handcrafted for this specific job. The only downside was having to get it checked for viruses and hackers every other day, which was a pain in the ass when he had assignments due.

“Oh crap,” Seokjin began, “_______, the database is saying that you just made your 300th recorded kill last night. And most of them were without long distance weapons.”

“Wait really?” you got up to get a closer look at the screen, still not believing the number next to your name, “Holy shit.”

The boys broke into cheers, shaking your shoulders and patting you on the back.

“Hey I knew you were the best fighter for a reason, congrats!” Hoseok said.

“That’s up for debate,” Yoongi muttered, wincing when he was elbowed by the other boy, “Congratulations though, I guess.”

The Academy had assembled your squad carefully, trying to create the perfect balance of skills and qualities for the group. It was just by chance you were the only girl, as squads weren’t made with gender in mind but with the thought for the best product. There was another squad The Academy had created with all girls and one boy a few years back, but rumor had it they disassembled because it had gotten too messy.

“I heard that you get a big pay raise when you hit 300, too,” Taehyung sighed, “Lucky.”

“It’s true, I remember when I made my 300th kill...and my 350th...and--” Jungkook said.

“Okay we get it you’re more of a serial killer than the rest of us, let’s get this new assignment dammit,” Yoongi interrupted.

When the clock had hit the hour, everyone went into a frenzy, fidgeting and smoothing down their clothes before the computer screen was taken up with the face of an older clean shaven man. His suit was freshly pressed, and from the background it was evident that he was sitting in his elaborate office. Though they got new assignments often, there was still a sense of nervousness whenever his face appeared.

“Good evening, all,” he said, voice in that classic boom they knew well, “How is everyone doing?”

“Fine, Mr. Kim,” you replied in unison.

“Well, from looking at the latest mission review I can see that last night was overall very successful. Completing a mission like that in under 45 minutes is impressive. Though, I have some questions about this…” he began.

“Oh no,” Seokjin said under his breath.

Images of the explosions flashed across the screen, the entire picture filled with smoke clouds and falling debris. Everyone sat there quiet a moment, looking away from the camera and at the walls to avoid his pointed gaze. Even when not in the same room he had a presence.

“Grandson, care to explain?” he asked.

Namjoon gulped.

Mr. Kim started off as simply a rich man with a vision of a better world, wanting to right the wrongs in society. But after growing tired of the constant misdeeds, he decided to take things into his own hands. He had all the connections, respect, power, and money a man could wish for, and with this clout he created his own empire of young vigilantes.

And as his grandson, Namjoon was the first. He wasn’t some wild child with a criminal record like his peers, but being related to the man that started it all was all he needed to become a leader. And even if he wasn’t the best shooter of fighter, Mr. Kim was sure Namjoon would be the best leader he could be.

“Um, well, about that, grandfath—,” he began awkwardly.

“It was my fault,” Seokjin sighed, “I set off the bombs.”

Mr. Kim’s eyebrows rose, “Ah, Seokjin, I should have known. You’re aware that our goal is to be discreet, so why set off two bombs on the edge of the city?”

“It was our only option, sir. Everyone inside was getting surrounded and there were too many close calls, so I took it upon myself. I should have been more careful,” he replied.

He pondered it for a while, looking pensively with his hands clasped on his desk, “Well you’re all extremely fortunate that all evidence that you were there got lost in the fire.”

“Told you,” Namjoon whispered to you.

“Academy representatives went to the scene before the police arrived and made it look like a gas leak, so you’re in the clear. No need to worry this time, but be more careful in the future,” Mr. Kim said.

“Yes, sir,” Seokjin bowed.

“Well enough of that, the past is the past, don’t harp on it for too long. I need you with a clear conscience for this next assignment,” he began, “Tomorrow night a group of politicians from around the country will be hosting a fundraising gala. The money made from this event is supposed to go towards new books and programs for public schools, but just like all the other money they’ve raised it will undoubtedly go back in their pockets. These 8 men,” he said, bringing up their photos on the screen. Their smiles were a bit too wide to be genuine, and you could almost smell the greed through their tailored suits and pressed lapels, “have also stolen from impoverished areas and taxpayers for the past ten years without a conviction and it’s time for their justice to be served.”

You all scooted closer to the computer, taking in the words and memorizing their faces.

“For this mission, we will need three of you to be active on the inside. Two of you will act as attendees and one will pose as a server to the politicians’ table. For the server, we have chosen Hoseok since you are the best at disguise and blending into scenes. We will send you drugs to put in their drinks to decrease motor skills.”

Hoseok nodded.

“This is where the next two come into play. For the attendees, we have chosen Jimin and ______ to act as a couple interested in donating to the programs since you both have the most believable chemistry. Once Hoseok gets them intoxicated, you two will need to lure them away from the crowd and get the job done.”

You nodded, and out your peripheral you could see Jimin smirking.

“Jungkook, and Taehyung, I will need you two on sniper duty in case something goes wrong. Namjoon and Yoongi you two will do clean up on the ground floor as needed. Seokjin you will need to tell those inside what you see through security cameras and warn them of danger. As you all know by now, bodyguards are not off limits. Jimin and ______ your tuxedo and dress will be coming soon, and we’ll be sending a driver to come pick you up for the event. Keep a look out because I’ll be forwarding more information to prepare you all in a couple hours. Best of luck.”

Mr. Kim nodded, and with his final words disconnected the call.

You all exhaled, relaxing and letting out breath you didn’t know you were even holding. It wasn’t that you feared your boss, your rigidness around him came from a place of reverence. It was just something about not completing your missions or even looking the least bit disrespectful that scared you more than anything since he had done so much for you all.

Death wasn’t your biggest fear, disappointment was.

“So,” Jimin said. He was sitting on the floor in front of you, and he draped his arm on your leg, “We’re going to be a couple, huh?”

“Acting like a couple. Key word acting.”

“I can dream can’t I?” he asked.

“As long as you keep your dreams and hands to yourself then sure,” you said, picking up his arm gingerly and dropping it.

“No promises,” you heard him sigh. All of the boys that had been sitting on the sofa got up and dispersed around the apartment, leaving you alone on the seat. You laid out flat across it and Jimin rose from the floor and sat on the other end, putting your feet in his lap, “Are you nervous about this mission at all?”

You shrugged, flipping through the channels on the television, “Not more than usual. You?”

“Not really. I’m kind of excited, actually. We get to schmooze in a room full of rich people, eat their food, drink their expensive alcohol, and look good doing it. It should be fun,” his fingers played absentmindedly with the hem of your leggings, and you let him.

Yoongi came from out the back, looking at you and Jimin on the sofa in clear annoyance, “Jungkook and Taehyung just left, why are you two moochers still here? Watching my TV on my sofa, you don’t pay bills around here.”

“Neither do you!” you shouted.

Yoongi paused, looking like he was searching for a comeback and falling short, “Fuck you.”

You snickered and Jimin reached over and gave you a high-five.

“I have a solution,” he said, coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water, “Why don’t you two pick another place to flirt, you’ll have more privacy and you’ll both out of my house. Sounds like a winner to me—“

You chucked a pillow at his head and he ducked skillfully, making it hit the wall behind him. The water in the glass barely moved, “Shut up.”

“That’s just another example of why my aim has always been better.”

“Get your kills up before you try to insult my aim, moron. How many are you at? 270? 275?”

He looked like he was swallowing back his words, fist balling up at his side, “If you’re not gone by the time I’m done with my nap you’re both getting a 9 millimeter to the ass.”

Like a ghost, Yoongi glided out of the room, mumbling under his breath. You heard his bedroom door slam shut.

“Sometimes I think you two really do still hate each other,” Jimin said.

“No, it's just entertaining to get him all riled up.”

“You’re the only one that would dare talk to him like that, though. If it was any of us,” he shivered, “I can’t even imagine. Probably because you’re the only one that has the slightest chance at kicking his ass.”

“He knows I could. I’ve done it before years ago, and I’d gladly do it again,” you said.

“I HEARD THAT GET OUT!” Yoongi boomed from the back of the apartment, a nearby vase trembled at the sound. You could have sworn you heard a gun cock from his room. You and Jimin jumped off the sofa and sped walked towards the door.

You figured you had overstayed your welcome this time.

___________________

You had been awakened by the sound of knocking at your front door, a little too early for a Saturday. You trudged over, only to open it and find 2 men in suits standing before you with a large box. Nodding curtly, they left it in your hands and drove off in an inconspicuous black car identical to all other Academy vehicles. You stood there confused and half-asleep for a while until you remembered you would be getting your dress that day.

When you brought it back to your room and opened the box you almost laughed. Though you were aware that it was a formal event, this seemed a bit excessive.

“Really?”

You sat on your bed, staring at the package for hours, the whole time debating calling Mr. Kim yourself just to ask if this is what he had really meant to send. When it was time to get ready, putting the thing on took 10 minutes alone, a clear indication in your mind that you shouldn’t be wearing it.

After pinning your hair up, you appraised your reflection in the mirror, taking in the wide, floor length red ball gown adorning your body. It was the kind you would see in fairy tales written about distressed princesses waiting for their handsome prince. Just standing there, you looked like you were about to lose your glass slipper and not raise your kill numbers.

But maybe that was the point.

At nine o’clock, you locked your apartment door behind you. You had heard Luna’s shower start a few seconds earlier and knew you were in the clear. You didn’t even want to think about how hard it would be to explain your outfit if she ever saw you.

When you rounded the corner, you saw a limousine parked out front, just as they said it would be. Jimin leaned against the door, arms folded looking ridiculously debonair in his tuxedo. His hair was parted on the side, longer strands falling in his face giving him another layer of dapperness you weren’t used to. When he heard your footsteps he looked up, eyes widening as he adjusted his stance.

“Too much?” you asked.

“No, not at all...you look beautiful,” he said earnestly, “I’m just honored to be the first one to see you.”

You felt a smile creep up on your lips, your insecurities beginning to melt away at the words. Times like these made you remember why Jimin was known for his charm. He was very sweet when he wanted to be, and if you didn’t know him like the back of your hand you would be a blushing mess right now.

“Thanks, you clean up well, too,” you said. He opened the door for you, letting you in first before climbing in behind you. You noticed that his bow-tie and the handkerchief in his pocket were the same color as your dress.

The Academy sure was being thorough with this couple concept.

“The only downside to that dress is how poufy it is, I know if it didn’t have all those layers I’d have an amazing view right now,” he said.

There was the Jimin you knew.

The ride over was quick, and you both took in the lights of the lavish downtown area filled with office buildings and skyscrapers through the windows. When you finally came to a halt, the driver got out to open your door. The both of you exited the limousine, staring up at the ritzy hotel you had been brought to. There was a red carpet leading to the front door, empty since you two had arrived late.

Jimin had his arm extended out to you, an invitation to link yours through his, “Let’s get it done.”

When you walked through the doors you were led to a large ballroom filled with tables and a dance floor, a band playing elevator music on the side. The two of you were so busy scoping out the space that you almost didn’t notice how quiet it got when you came into view. Nearly all eyes were glued to the two of you as you made your way inside, side conversations calming down to near whispers.

“So much for being discreet,” you said in a low voice.

“This is going to be interesting,” he said.

You walked over to a corner, still aware of the quick glances thrown in your direction. Everyone there seemed to drip wealth and prosperity, and for tonight you and Jimin actually looked like you belonged. The other women wore gowns too, but theirs looked incredibly plain and lackluster next to yours. From their upturned noses, it was obvious they felt the same way.

“Jimin, _____, are you two inside yet?” Namjoon asked through the tiny earpiece you had hidden under your hair.

“Yeah just made it, you?” Jimin replied into his own, turning to make it look like he was speaking to you.

“Seokjin just dropped us off and Yoongi and I are hiding in the back of the hotel now. We would have been here earlier but unlike you we didn’t have a limousine to pick us up,” he said, “Jungkook and Taehyung are you at your post?”

“We’re climbing the side of a nearby building east of the hotel right now. We’re almost on the roof,” Jungkook replied. You could hear the strain in his tone, “TAE, WHAT THE FUCK?”

You winced, his voice piercing your eardrums, “Jungkook! Inside voice, please,” you whispered angrily.

“Taehyung just dropped one of our guns and we’re 20 floors up! It almost landed on my head!”

“Sorry I lost my grip!” Taehyung responded from above Jungkook, “We’ll just get it when we go back down!”

“It’s probably totaled now! We’re dangling 200 feet above concrete!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“That doesn’t matter—“

“Stop talking,” you could hear Yoongi say in a dry, icy voice that sent a shiver up even your spine.

“Sorry,” Jungkook and Taehyung responded in unison.

“Hoseok, where are you?” Namjoon asked.

“Just made it to the ballroom,” he responded.

You looked around and finally spotted him on the opposite side of the room. He noticed you and made his way over, eyes wide for exaggerated effect as he looked you up and down.

“Wow, I thought I would have trouble finding you but you were hard to miss,” Hoseok told you, “You look amazing.”

“Why, thank you,” Jimin replied obnoxiously, making you and Hoseok roll your eyes.

“Thanks,” you said, “Um, what’s up with your…uniform?”

The server’s uniform Hoseok wore was very ill-fitting, and looked like it belonged to someone 4 sizes bigger than him. He tried his best by tucking in the extra fabric and buckling his belt tight but It did little to help.

He sighed, “The academy didn’t send me anything to wear so I had to steal it from another server. I was running late so I couldn’t be picky with who’s I took.”

“Where are they now?” Jimin asked.

“Locked in a broom closet upstairs,” he replied, “Don’t worry I knocked him out cold. He should wake up soon…maybe sometime tomorrow.”

“Hey, I’ve got an eye on our targets,” you said, nodding behind the two boys. They turned around to see the group of politicians, all seated at a table together. They were busy talking with other patrons of the event that had come up to them, shaking their hands and smiling.

“They’re all sitting together so that means we won’t have to round them all up later,” Jimin noted, “That makes our job easier.”

“Okay, I’ll let you two go work your magic. See you in a few,” Hoseok, said turning away and disappearing in the crowd.

You took Jimin’s arm again and walked towards the table with smiles plastered on your faces.

“I’ll take the lead on this one,” he said.

You stood behind the line of people waiting to talk to them, and when the bodies cleared out you two stepped forward. While a few were still speaking with other attendees, the rest’s attention automatically went to you two. From their eyes alone you could tell they were trying to figure you out, scanning their memories of whether they had seen you before. Though, the whole while their plastic smiles never left their faces.

Jimin extended his hand to the man nearest to him, “Hello sir, I’m Kim Namjoon.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kim,” the man said, eyes unwavering.

“Why did you have to use my name as an alias?” Namjoon asked through the ear piece.

“It’s not like the man’s going to live much longer for it to matter,” Yoongi said.

“No, the pleasure is all mine,” Jimin said, going down the line to shake the awaiting hands.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You turned to see a man that looked old enough to be your father eyeing you, biting his lower lip in a way that made your skin crawl. His nose stuck out like a beak, and you remember him distinctly from the pictures you were sent last night.

You extended your hand with a tight smile, “Alex.”

It was the first name of one of your old academy instructors, and for some reason the first to come to mind.

He held on to your hand a lot longer than necessary, and you brought it back to your side as soon as he released it.

“You look fabulous I must say,” one of the politicians piped up, “What gives us the honor of having you here this evening?”

“We’re such huge fans of the work you all have been doing in the communities. We just had to meet the men responsible for it all for ourselves,” Jimin grinned.

“You’re making it hard for us to be humble,” one with a large belly laughed, “Thank you, son. We appreciate it.”

The creepy one looked between the two of you, “I see you came together, are you a couple? Dating?”

“We’re newlyweds actually,” Jimin responded, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his side. Leave it to him to take it farther than necessary.

Jimin made his way around the table, striking up conversations with every individual man, even the bodyguards that surrounded them. It was amazing to watch him honestly, he moved around the space so seamlessly, like poetry in motion. He smiled at the right times and laughed at all their terrible jokes, looking so invested in all the conversations he had. He laid a hand on their shoulders as they spoke, initiating contact to relax them. He was the definition of a people person if you had ever seen one. With all the flattery, charm, and bullshitting you just knew he had them wrapped around his finger within minutes.

“You know what, why don’t you two come have a seat here with us for a bit?” a man with huge ears asked. “Pull up a chair, I like you kids.”

The creep grabbed two seats from a nearby table, placing them next to him. Jimin took the seat farthest from him, unaware, making you sit right next to the man.

“So how long have you two been married?” he asked.

“Almost a year now,” you responded. You noticed he was leaning a bit too close to you.

“Wow, young love can be beautiful thing…while it lasts. I just got out of a marriage myself just so you know,” he said matter of factly.

“Oh, so I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not, I’m finally a free man. Single and ready to get back on the market,” he laughed. He was looking so intently on your face it made you uncomfortable.

“So tell me more about these programs you’ll be creating,” Jimin said to the table, “They sound really incredible.”

“Well, with the money raised tonight, we hope to get better books and start programs that will increase creativity in schools,” the one with the belly said.

“You know, music, visual arts, dance, all of that good stuff. The children are our future and we have to harness and nurture that energy and drive it in a positive direction,” another man with a long salt and peppered beard added.

“Just out of curiosity, how much money do you think it will take to make these programs happen?” you asked.

The men looked at each other, “Roughly a couple million I’d say. I think with the money raised by the end of tonight we’ll be near our goal,” another man with a round, almost childlike face responded.

“It’s definitely going to a good place,” the creep next to you said, making the rest chuckle and nod knowingly.

You and Jimin glanced at each other, not believing their audacity. The deeper you got into the conversation the more you couldn’t wait to do what you had come for.

Suddenly Hoseok appeared at your table, holding a tray of laced drinks in one hand with a smile, “Could I interest any of you in a drink this evening?”

“Sure, why not,” the one with the ears said. Hoseok placed it on the table before him. In social settings like this, if one decides to drink the others will follow to not seem uptight, feeling as if they have to keep up. Surely enough, the rest called Hoseok over to serve them. You watched as they all took sips, completely unaware of the harsh reality they would be facing soon.

“Wow, this is strong,” the one with the beard winced, “What’s in this?”

“It doesn’t matter, the less I can remember of this shit show tomorrow the better,” the one with the round face muttered, “Thanks kid, buy you something nice,” he reached into his wallet and placed a wad of money in Hoseok’s pocket.

Hoseok was unsure if he should accept the tip but thanked him anyways. He was about to walk away from the table when the creep called him back.

“Boy, why didn’t you offer them some?” he asked, motioning to you and Jimin. Hoseok still had a few more laced glasses on his tray just in case, and he stood there like a deer in the headlights while he racked his brain for a response.

“Uhh—“

“My wife is actually expecting so she can’t drink,” Jimin said out of the clear blue. You whipped your head to him, your façade almost slipping entirely at the lie. He rubbed his hands over your flat belly, “And I would feel guilty if I drank without her.”

You smiled painfully as the table erupted in congratulations.

“How wonderful! How far along are you?” the man with the big ears asked.

“9 weeks,” you said, pulling the number out of your ass.

“I remember when my first son was born, most beautiful moment in my life,” one said, opening the flood gates for the rest to talk about their own children.

Hoseok looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh, sending a sorry expression in your direction as he slowly backed away.

The entire time you spoke with the men about your fake pregnancy you cursed Jimin in your head.

“I’m so bored,” Taehyung whined after a few minutes, gun at the ready as he sat atop the building, “Can you just send someone out so we’ll have something to shoot?”

“I’d even accept a bellhop at this point,” Jungkook said, “I’m sure we could pull up something on him to justify it. Tax evasion, unpaid debts, old parking tickets, anything.”

“Stop complaining, at least you two are outside. I’m stuck in this car alone watching old people talk until this mission is over. You two brats don’t know what boring is,” Seokjin said.

“Well at least you have your computer to entertain you. I don’t know, keep yourself busy, watch some porn or something.”

“Oh my God what’s wrong with you?” Seokjin asked in exasperation, “I’m not going to use this computer for that filth...that’s what the library’s computer lab is for.”

Jimin burst out laughing, luckily it was perfectly timed with one of the men’s jokes.

You almost choked on the bite of food you had just been served.

The hand Jimin had put on your stomach was now sliding down your dress, pushing up the layers with a straight face as he ate.

You grabbed his hand under the table and twisted it backwards, making him wince, “What did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?” you whispered.

“Just getting into character, dear wife of mine,” he smirked.

The both of you watched the men eat with curiosity.

“When do you think the drugs will kick in?” he asked.

“I don’t know they seem pretty normal right now. I’m getting antsy it needs to hurry up and take effect—“

As soon as the words left your mouth, one of the men dropped their forks on the plate, the utensil clattering loudly and falling on the floor.

He laughed, shaking his head, “Whoops, I don’t know what happened there.”

“I’m so exhausted, can we cut this thing short already?” another said. He looked like he was having trouble keeping his head up.

One started to reach for his glass, moving in slow motion towards it. The bodyguard behind him had to reach it to his shaky hands.

“You know what, Alex?” the creep next to you whispered, his gaze seemed a bit far away, and his words started to slur slightly, “A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be tied down to only one man. I’ve got money to last 3 lifetimes and I’d love to share. I can help provide whatever you need. Just let me know what I can do for you.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, slightly amused at the nerve of this scumbag, “Actually, I was wondering what I could do for you.”

“Oh, really?” he purred.

“My husband and I were interested in donating to your programs. We’d love to help with your vision.”

He looked slightly disappointed, but the men at the table heard your announcement and got new energy, “Oh really? That would be terrific!”

“We were hoping we could discuss this further, maybe in somewhere more private?” Jimin said.

“Of course, anything for my favorite couple. Let’s move this party to somewhere we can really talk,” they began to push their chairs out, gripping the table to steady themselves. The four guards followed closely behind as you all made your way out of the large ballroom.

The men lead the way, holding each other’s shoulders and laughing boisterously down the hallway.

You took note of the security cameras lining the way. If anyone wanted to track the politicians’ whereabouts after they left the gala, all they would have to do is look back at the footage. You hoped Seokjin noticed them too and was already dealing with it.

They lead you to a room down the hall. It was filled with comfortable chairs and sofas, built for cocktails and casual conversation. They eight of them sat on one side and you and Jimin sat across from them, the bodyguards standing in a corner not far away.

“I think I drank too much, I’m barely able to see straight,” the one with the beard said.

“You’re not alone, I feel like I just had ten shots and not a glass of wine,” the one with the large ears added.

“So, about those donations…how much are you thinking, Mr. and Mrs. KIm?” the one with the round face asked.

“Before I name a number I’d just like to ask you all another question just to be sure,” you began, “Where will all of the money earned tonight go?”

“We’ve already discussed this,’ he laughed, “To textbooks and new school programs of course.”

“Oh really? Are you sure it’s not going towards building you all beach houses like the funds from last year’s gala?” you asked, legs crossed.

The room was filled with a pregnant silence. The men exchanged nervous glances.

“I’m sorry?” asked a man with bushy eyebrows.

“Sweetheart, what are you getting on about?” the creep drawled.

“Do you all enjoy stealing from the poor?“ Jimin asked, “If I can remember correctly, I’m pretty sure even your guards here got a cut of the money you took.”

“Look, I don’t know if you’re with the press or what the hell is going on here but you two need to leave now. How dare you question our integrity,” one slurred, “Escort them out!” he said to the guards.

The both of you stood up. Jimin began to walk towards the approaching men but you stuck your hand out, “I’ve got it.”

Before the muscled guards could react, you lifted your dress, exposing the garter on your thigh filled with weapons. You pulled out two small knives and threw them, making them land squarely in the nearest two’s necks. One collapsed to the floor immediately, the other trying to pull out the object as he stumbled into a wall, gurgled breaths escaping his mouth as he fell seconds later.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

The room echoed with screams as the politicians stumbled over each other trying to get up. You walked towards the next guard, never breaking your stride as you snapped his neck and moved to the next. The final ran to tackle you, but before he could lay a hand on your body you grabbed him by his collar, using his momentum to fling him into a nearby coffee table. The glass shattered on impact.

Their vision fuzzy, the eight men tried their best to make their way to the exit, but Jimin was already standing in front of the door.

“Sorry, but karma’s a real bitch fellas,” he said, pulling out a blade from the inside of his jacket. While most were paralyzed with fear, Jimin went down the line, doing his damage one by one. Whenever they tried to escape he pulled them back by their hair. He angled the knife weirdly on one, and blood sprayed onto your dress.

Two that hadn’t drunk as much as the rest ran while you and Jimin were busy and climbed out an open window. They wobbled away, careening through the garden and beyond the hotel.

“Shit,” you said, “Jungkook and Taehyung, we’ve got a present for you. We lost two and they’re running in your direction now.”

They perked up immediately, looking through their scopes as they found the two running wildly towards them, “Got it!”

The roommates pulled the triggers of their rifles at the same time. The two bullets flew and pierced each man’s skull easily, the sound ringing through the night air. They flopped onto the grass, unmoving.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jimin said.

You pulled your knives from the bodyguards and took off your shoes. The both of you stepped out the window and ran away from the scene, puffy ball gown and all.

You saw Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok come out the darkness and drag the two bodies away from the middle of the grass and into some nearby hedges. They followed you soon after.

“Seokjin, where are you we need to go,” Jimin breathed.

“Coming, just keep running straight!”

Moments later the SUV pulled up onto the curb and the five of you piled inside. He barely let everyone sit down before he hit the gas and drove to get the two youngest.

“Jin, there were a few cameras on our way to the room, could you erase the footage before someone checks it?” you asked from your seat.

“I’m already ahead of you, I disabled them all as soon as you left the ballroom.”

The tires skidded to a halt, and Jungkook and Taehyung came sliding down their rope from the top of the building and jumped into the car.

While Jungkook sat in his seat, he looked at something in his hands pitifully.

“What’s that?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook lifted it to him, showing the several crumpled pieces of the pistol Taehyung had dropped earlier.

“Don’t worry I think we can piece it back together,” Taehyung assured him. If looks could kill, Jungkook would have sent him to an early grave.

You felt eyes boring into you, and you turned to see Yoongi looking you over with an unreadable expression. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he looked at you with a curious intensity you had never seen before.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?”

“It’s just weird seeing you not look like your normal troll self, that’s all,” he responded.

“Go to hell, Yoongi,” you said.

“See you there,” he retorted.

You rolled your eyes and went back to talking to Hoseok. Yoongi tried to look out his window, but for some reason his attention kept going back to you the entire ride back home.

___________________

“Namjoon?” Taehyung whispered, “Can you help me solve this problem?”

You were sitting in your advanced calculus class, and this was the fourth time he had asked the leader for help in the last 20 minutes.

“If I keep solving these for you how are you supposed to learn?” he asked.

“This is the last time I promise!”

“Shhh, I’m trying to listen to the lecture!” Seokjin snapped.

Namjoon sighed and took Taehyung’s paper, scribbling out an answer seconds later, “There. Now please pay attention.”

The professor drawled, and Taehyung did impersonations of him under his breath. It was spot on, and despite trying your best you couldn’t hold in your silent laughter. Sitting with them wasn’t the best idea, because even though your grade in the class was fine now, it wouldn’t be if they kept distracting you like this.

“Just look at her,” a girl behind you said in a low voice, “always flirting with them.”

“I told you she was a hoe! She’s always with that big group of boys. I’ve literally never seen her with a girl.”

You winced, resisting the urge to turn around and confront the girls yourself. Conversations like these were becoming the norm for you now. It seemed like every other day you would either overhear someone talk about your relationship with the boys in your squad, or notice the strange looks you all got when you walked around. Sure, you understood how unusual it may look to some when you were together, especially when Jimin made crude jokes or had his arm around you, but that didn’t make times like these any less annoying. You thought people would have learned to mind their own business in college but apparently criticism came in all ages.

“I bet she gets passed around like a blunt at a frat party,” one girl said.

You tried to drown out their voices and focus on the lesson before you, but it was getting too hard. You were very unconfrontational outside of missions, but these girls were making you remember that you could literally kill them with your bare hands in 2 seconds flat if you wanted to.

You’ve counted

Your fist clenched around your pencil and you had unknowingly stopped writing all together.

The boys watched you weirdly.

Taehyung leaned over, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”

They stopped and zoned in on the conversations behind you, faces contorting the longer they listened.

“Hey, just ignore them,” Namjoon whispered.

The girls continued on. One broke out laughing, making the professor turn around and stop the lecture.

“Girls, even I don’t think calculus is that funny. Quiet down,” he said.

They apologized, snickering to themselves until class was over.

You packed your bag and stormed out of the room, making the boys jog to catch up to you outside.

“It’s really not a big deal, ______,” Taehyung insisted.

“I’m actually with ______ on this one, they act like boys and girls can’t have a platonic friendship,” Seokjin said.

You shoved the door to the library open and walked to where the other boys were sitting, writing papers and finishing online quizzes. They saw you four approaching and noticed the flat look on your face.

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Yoongi asked.

“Some girls in class were being jerks that’s all,” Namjoon said.

“That’s a nice way of saying judgmental asses,” you said.

“Long story short, they were calling _____ a slut because she hangs around us so much,” Seokjin explained.

“They just wish they had friends like us, that’s all,” Hoseok assured you.

“It’s only those girls, don’t pay attention to them,” Jimin said.

“It’s not just them, Jimin, people talk about us all the time,” you said.

“Really? Never noticed, “ he shrugged.

As you all stood there, 2 boys walked past your section. They pointed at you, snickering to themselves before one spoke.

“Hey, let me get a piece when you guys are done!” he said.

“Yeah, sharing is caring!” the other called. They howled with laughter as they high-fived each other and walked away.

“D-did they really just--?” Seokjin sputtered.

“Oh, you’ve to be kidding me,” you groaned, hiding your face as you sat down. Out of all the encounters, you had never seen a pair so bold.

Jungkook suddenly got up from the table and stalked after the two boys.

“Jungkook, don’t!”

He grabbed them by the back of their shirts, slamming them into a nearby wall.

“Hey man what are you doing!?” one screamed.

“Apologize to my friend over there,” Jungkook said in a dark tone, his jaw taught.

“Dude, we were just kidding!” the other said, legit fear in his eyes.

“I said,” his grip moved from their collars to their throats, lifting them up from the floor several inches. Their hands clawed desperately at Jungkook’s, but they couldn’t move him, “apologize to my friend.”

The two boys looked at each other nervously, and Jungkook’s short patience was already running thin.

“NOW!” he pushed them harder and their heads banged against the wall roughly.

“Sorry! Sorry! We were just joking, we’re sorry! We didn’t mean it, fuck!”

The group ran up behind Jungkook, grabbing his arm to release them but his grip was too strong.

“Jungkook, let them go,” Namjoon said through his teeth. The room had gotten quiet and everyone around was now watching.

After a moment, Jungkook shoved the boys one more time before dropping them in disgust. The seven of you grabbed the youngest by the arm and literally carried him out of the room. The pair was on the floor busy catching their breath when you left.

“Jungkook, you really shouldn’t have done that,” you said, even more stressed now.

“And let them disrespect you? Disrespect us? Fuck that!” he yelled, “I’m getting mad all over again thinking about it. Let me back in there I wasn’t done!”

Yoongi pushed him back, “We don’t need campus security called on you again, calm down.”

Jungkook’s anger issues could be dated back to childhood.

Calling him a school bully was putting it lightly. He would send other kids to the hospital after fighting for the smallest reasons, and when he got old enough he was sent to correctional facilities and counselors in the hopes of getting him on the right track. Though, it did little to help, and his angry streaks continued. The academy approached him after he got expelled from his 4th elementary school, and the rest was history. They pointed his anger in a different direction, and while most would think giving a kid like that a gun was a bad idea, it calmed him in the moment and he became the best shooter The Academy has ever seen.

You all walked back to the four oldest’s apartment and sat down. Your nerves were still shot, memories from class and the library pushing to the forefront. The big apartment felt very suffocating, and you jumped right up and headed back to the front door.

“Leaving so soon?” Seokjin asked from the kitchen, “I was just about to start making dinner.”

“See ya,” Yoongi said, waving at you encouragingly.

“I have to get out of here. I need to go for a run or something, clear my head.”

Whenever there was a lot on your mind, you needed to work it off in some way. Physical exertion was the best way to distract yourself as you had come to learn. And at times where you were like this, you had to just go or else you felt like you would explode.

“It’s dark out now, you shouldn’t be out there alone,” Namjoon said.

“I know but I need to move.”

“We can come with you!” Taehyung insisted, “Namjoon is right, you shouldn’t go alone. It’ll be fun!”

“Would you really?” you asked, face brightening up.

Namjoon internally cursed his leadership instincts. For a second he really wished he hadn’t said anything, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. There weren’t many things Namjoon hated more than running. Especially when he didn’t have to.

“I’m actually not dressed for it, sorry,” he said.

“We’re at home. Your room is literally down the hall, go change,” Hoseok said.

One thing you liked about dressing so casually every day was that you were always ready for whatever at any moment, which became useful at times like this. It was a habit you had learned to pick up at The Academy and hadn’t lost since.

“When was the last time we all worked out together? Come on it’ll be just like old times!” you said.

The boys sighed.

“I’ll be back,” Namjoon said as he trudged to his room to change.

“I’ll actually sit this one out,” Seokjin said, “But dinner will be ready by the time you come back.”

When Namjoon finished, you all left the apartment and walked to the corner.

“Okay, we’ll make the block twice and come back. That’s it,” Namjoon said.

The seven of you started jogging down the empty road, the streetlights the only illumination on your path.

It was entrancing, hearing everyone’s shoes hit the asphalt in a rhythmic pattern. You all began to feel the familiar burn settle in your lungs. You missed times like this honestly. In The Academy you all had to run together every morning at sunrise, a pastime most would rather forget. But some of your best memories were made on those jogs, and you longed for that carefree sense of friendship again.

“Hey, I bet I can beat you to that mailbox over there,” Jimin challenged Hoseok.

“In your dreams. On three. One, two—hey I wasn’t done!”

Jimin had already bolted away, making Hoseok rush to catch up.

You noticed that your shoe had come untied, and you stopped in your tracks to fix it. Most of the group was too focused on the race that they weren’t aware that you weren’t running anymore, and continued down the road.

Yoongi looked behind him and saw you crouched over and circled back.

You looked up at his approaching frame, “Aww thanks for stopping for me.”

He scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself. I just didn’t want to deal with the trouble of finding you if you got abducted or something.”

You picked up a rock and chucked it at him with the force of a major-league pitcher, but he caught it in his hand effortlessly. If it were anyone else, you knew they would be writhing in pain right now.

You hated his cat-like reflexes.

“Nice try,” he said.

You stood up and ran past him, sticking your tongue out like a child.

He fought back his growing smirk as he jogged to catch up.

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inthatstateofgrace · 6 years

Text

The 8 Limbs of Yoga and How They Help With Addiction Recovery

If my friends and family members met me for the first time around a decade ago, they wouldn’t recognize me. In fact, some of them are still awestruck at the changes I have gone through these past 10 years. You see, I used to be an addict.

The term is thrown around loosely nowadays, yet people forget about the seriousness of addiction as a mental health issue. That’s what it is, in reality. Addiction is an uncontrollable urge which was recognized as a disease by The American Medical Association in 1956.

If you manage to pull yourself out of your addiction abyss (some people never do), you’re confronted with a whole new set of challenges. For me, I had a difficult drug detox period while in prison. Then, one relapse after I got out, and endless moments when the cravings were so bad I was ready to say screw it and give in. Although I’m better at suppressing those cravings now, they never seem to go away in the end.

People deal with recovery in different ways. Some seek comfort in their friends and family, others go to therapy, a long-term residency at rehab, outpatient programs, and so on. Rehab centers have been immensely successful. Yet, there are people who have a difficult time coping with their new lives after they are released and sober. This has led to the development of holistic approaches to post-rehab.

While none of these methods should be considered as your one and only solution in recovery, they can be effective when combined with a proper program. Methods include acupuncture, meditation, massage, reiki and yoga among others.

When I set my eyes on yoga as a holistic method, I was drawn tothe fact that it’s a way to exercise. Working out was highly recommended post-rehab. After doing research, I put it into practice and was fully satisfied with the results. Yoga can help you control your emotions, which in turn helps you control your cravings. It allowed me to build self-control, which was very important in the recovery process. I used yoga to replace the artificial high from drugs and alcohol with the natural one from breathing and meditation.

Yoga is split into 8 different paths, also known as limbs. When people think of yoga they think of breathing and stretching, when in reality those are only a small part of it. In this article, we will look at how these limbs benefit your recovery. Let’s get started:

1. Yamas

Yamas are the first limb, and they deal with the behavior that one should have when practicing yoga. They consist of 5 different practices that we promise to ourselves when we begin yoga. The idea behind the Yamas is that we treat others the way we would like to be treated:

Ahimsa: the promise of non-violence.

Asteya: the promise of non-stealing (whether it be objects or the time of others).

Satya: the promise of truthfulness.

Aparigraha: the promise of non-greed or non-possessiveness.

Brahmacharya: the promise of self-control.

The five Yamas lay the groundwork for becoming a person who treats others with respect. Forgiveness and treating others well was a massive part of my recovery program. When I connected Yamas with the concept of acting with kindness, I felt more fulfilled and at ease with myself.

2. Niyamas

Similar to Yamas, Niyamas are the guidelines to our own ritualistic process. The way we nourish our mind, spirit, and body are the core standards for the Niyamas, which work in accordance with Yamas. They are:

Saucha: cleanliness of the inner and outer body. Proper nutrition, elimination of sugar, fats, drugs, and alcohol are part of keeping your body clean. Your mind must also be kept clean, removing feelings of anger or stress.

Santosha: contentment with oneself. Being mindful and appreciating the present moment, finding joy in the everyday instants of life.

Tapas: the fiery desire to improve your life with self-discipline. This relates to the motivation we have to live a better life.

Svadhyaya: to study your own body and mind. Using this you will know yourself inside and out, understand who you are, and accept yourself.

Ishvara Pranidhana: to surrender yourself to God. While this may seem difficult to accept for those who don’t believe in God, it can be interpreted as giving yourself to a higher purpose.

The 5 Yamas in combination with the 5 Niyamas are your ten keys to success in the practice of yoga. You will adopt the traits necessary to complete your journey, while also applying those very same stages to your life in recovery.

3. Asana

Asana is the practice that you will see in any studio. People stretching, doing poses and breathing. The benefits of this limb are that you get to exercise your body while enhancing your spirituality. Your circulation is also improved with Asana, which means that your vital organs get that extra boost of blood they need to recover and detox.

Asana reduces stress and negative feelings. If you didn’t already know, challenging emotions are among the top reasons why people relapse. When you exercise through Asana you lose weight. This boosts self-confidence and provides a general feeling of self-satisfaction.

4. Pranayama

This limb focuses on the control of your breathing. It is an essential step in yoga, where different techniques can improve circulation, heart health, and mental health. A strong mind is vital in addiction recovery. Pranayama allows you to build that strength through breathing.

5. Pratyahara

Recovery can be hectic. You might stress, feel depressed and overwhelmed with the second chance you’ve received at life. Sometimes you want to get away from it all, and in fact, it’s important to withdraw from daily struggles every now and then. Pratyahara does exactly that. It’s a form of meditation which provides a well-needed rest while you restore your energy to continue on the path to recovery. Focus on each of your senses individually from touch to taste, and appreciate the moment. You will replenish your energy.

6. Dharana

The Dharana stage follows Pratyahara, and is translated to “concentration.” You use this stage to proceed with deep meditation after the initial steps of the previous stage. These two limbs combined are especially important when fighting the anxiety that may affect you in recovery

7. Dhyana

As you continue through the limbs of yoga, Dhyana builds upon Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, and Dharana. Dhyana is the step when full concentration is reached. People who manage to reach this level end up introspecting and gaining self-knowledge. Understanding who you are and setting clear goals for your future plans are main key points of a successful recovery.

8. Samadhi

Welcome to the stage of transcendence, where you have arrived at the high point in your practice. People in the Samadhi stage feel themselves ascend into conscious freedom, and the natural high that comes from yoga is unleashed. Recovering addicts often compare this feeling to the one they would have if they were to completely eliminate addiction from their lives.

Those are the 8 limbs of yoga, and the ways they connect to and aid in your recovery. Holistic practices are plenty, with researched benefits. Yoga has been my favorite because I saw amazing results and it pushed me to maintain my sobriety. I am now 10 years sober, and I have reached heights in my life that I never thought previously possible. Hopefully, yoga will have the same effects on you as it did on me.

Has yoga helped you recover? How? Let us know in the comments!

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Editor’s note: This is a guest post by Andy Macia, a recovering drug addict/alcoholic with over 10 years sober. He was born in Bogota, Colombia, but raised in Los Angeles California. He is an avid rehab blogger and digital marketing entrepreneur.

Photo credit: Brian Crawford Photography on Instagram