#killer takes them out one-by-one ( private verse — with friends like these who needs enemies )

[thieveryatitsfinest]

TAG DROP

[ibijau]

hey so who wants the beginning of that Lan Xichen/Nie Huaisang fic that I will never finish because it’s melodramatic and probably way ooc?

Lan Xichen smiled as politely as he could, considering the circumstances.

“I have to say, when I was told I had a visitor, you are the last person I might have expected to see.”

This was answered by a distant, polite smile and another bow from Nie Huaisang.

“I did not expect that I would get to see you, Zewu-Jun,” he admitted. “But I had to try regardless. May I sit?”

Absolutely not, was Lan Xichen’s first instinct, and from this point on, he would insist that no guest be brought to him until he had been given their name. He had had so few visitors these last three years that he had never felt the need for wariness. This had just changed.

Still, since Nie Huaisang was already there, and he was a sect leader, it would have been rude to send him away. Lan Xichen motioned for him to take a seat, which Nie Huaisang did with careful grace.

“Is there anything you wanted to talk about?” Lan Xichen asked, serving the tea that had been brought along with his unwanted guest. “I doubt you still want my advice after everything that happened.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile did not falter as he took the glass of tea offered to him, turning even that simple gesture elegant.

“I have taken it upon myself to visit some of my old…” he hesitated for a brief moment. “Some of my old acquaintances. I came to Cloud Recesses to see Wei Wuxian, but since he’s absent I thought I might try and make the best of my trip by trying to see you.”

“How thoughtful of you. What prompted this, I wonder? Nostalgia?”

The younger man sipped on his tea silently, and put down his glass on the table with barely a faint click as the ceramic touched wood.

“Regrets, if you can believe it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Lan Xichen replied with a bitterness he could not quite contain. “Please be honest. I think I deserve this, coming from you.”

The distant smile on Nie Huaisang’s smile wavered, but remained. How had Lan Xichen never realised how perfectly in control that boy always was? Even the faint trembling at the corner of his lips might have been faked.

“No, I don’t suppose you would believe me,” Nie Huaisang graciously conceded. “I have earned your distrust. Still, I will say this: I am sorry for what happened. If I could have found another way, I would have. You…" he paused, either unsure of his words. Or pretending to be at least. "You were kind to me, and I would have preferred not to see you hurt." 

Lan Xichen stared at the younger man, wondering how much of this was sincere and how much was an affectation. If he had learned one thing from this disaster, it was that Nie Huaisang was an unprecedented actor who had no time for remorse.

"Clever as you've proven to be, I'm surprised you found no other way to bring justice to your family," Lan Xichen replied. 

"Peace, not justice," Nie Huaisang protested, something shining briefly in his eyes before he could control it. "My brother's soul deserved to be brought to rest. You knew him, Zewu-Jun. Do you think he would have been satisfied with anything less than the death of his enemy? If the killer had been anyone but Lianfang-Zun, wouldn't you have praised me for doing this?" 

Lan Xichen's grip on his glass tightened. Three years had passed, but his mind still struggled to reconcile his private image of Jin Guangyao with what had been revealed to the world. To have it thrown in his face once more was a hard blow.

"Ah, that was uncalled for," Nie Huaisang said, frowning but not so much it would distort his features. Even in acting, there was a vanity to him. "I came here to apologise, but in the end I am only hurting you again. Perhaps I had better leave you alone."

"Perhaps. A question, first. That day, in Guanyin temple. What did you really see?" 

Lan Xichen did not expect an answer to that question, but found Nie Huaisang looking right at him, an air of rare determination on his face. On someone else, it might have passed for a moment of sincerity.

"You answer this first: if he had lived, what would have happened to Lianfang-Zun? Would he have been brought to any sort of justice? Or would he have been allowed to hide in seclusion, never paying for his crimes?” 

He paused, giving Lan Xichen a chance to answer. Faced between the option to lie or to comfort Nie Huaisang in his decision, Lan Xichen chose silence. 

“I did what I had to do, Zewu-Jun. I cannot say I made the right choice… But I doubt I made the wrong one either.”

That was as close to an admission of guilt as Lan Xichen would ever get out of Nie Huaisang. The younger man had manipulated him into killing his oldest friend, there was no longer any doubt possible… not that Lan Xichen had doubted very much in the first place. Jin Guangyao had said he would never have hurt him, and that was something Lan Xichen believed to be true. He had to hold on to something, and he held on to this: Jin Guangyao, whatever else he had been to the rest of the world, had been his friend. He would not have attacked Lan Xichen.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Lan Xichen announced, struggling to remain polite. "It is getting late, and the road is long to Gusu." 

Taking this as the firm dismissal that it was, Nie Huaisang rose up, only for his legs to tremble under him and his face to turn deathly pale. He bent over as if he might fall, prompting Lan Xichen to reach out for him, but regained control of himself just in time. 

"I stood too quickly," he said with a small smile, his tone indicating this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. "Thank you for seeing me today, Zewu-Jun. I won't take any more of your time. I am happy I got to see you again, though I doubt it will happen again. Farewell, brother. I hope someday, your pain will fade." 

"Goodbye," Lan Xichen replied, upset by this fake demonstration of weakness and refusing to partake in whatever dramatic demonstration was going on. He would leave his seclusion someday, and meet Nie Huaisang at discussion conferences if nothing else. No need for a farewell. "Have a safe trip home." 

Perhaps, after Nie Huaisang had gone, Lan Xichen stared at the door, wondering how the sweet, innocent boy who used to care for nothing but fans and pretty birds turned into that man who lied and used others to kill… 

Or perhaps he refused to let his mind wander on such a path, so he wouldn't have to see who might have inspired such a change. 

Nie Huaisang did not leave Cloud Recesses. As he reached the gate, he had met Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who had insisted on having him as a guest. At least, so the servants said in the morning, bringing him both his breakfast and daily news. It was unpleasant to think of that young man still in his home, but he supposed his brother might have felt a debt of gratitude. Lan Xichen decided he would keep to himself that he had tried to send away Nie Huaisang. It might upset Lan Wangji… or it might not, which would be worse. It would have been Wei Wuxian’s idea to keep his old schoolmate around, and Lan Wangji indulged him in everything.

It was not a great surprise when that night, Lan Xichen received a visit from his brother. That Wei Wuxian had tagged along was more surprising, but not as unwelcome as it might have been, once.

The topic of conversation that Wei Wuxian chose was definitely unexpected though. 

“How well versed are you on the topic of curses?” he asked, as casually as he would enquire about the weather. 

“Likely not as well as you, but I will help if I can," Lan Xichen replied, pouring tea for all three of them." Why do you ask?”

Wei Wuxian opened a box of cakes that they had bought on their trip. "I've been questioned about a very odd curse. Never seen it before. Could something very old, could be something brand new… but it’s unusual for sure.”

Wei Wuxian should have looked delighted at the perspective of a mystery to solve, even one that was putting someone in danger. He could be a little careless about such things, although to his credit, he usually tried to avoid letting people suffer unnecessarily even while he was having fun. The seriousness on his face was odd to say the least.

“It is rare for you to be stumped that way,” Lan Xichen commented. “How serious is the curse?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, grabbing a glass of tea for himself and pushing another towards his husband. 

“Hard to say. From what I can tell, something is making that man's meridians close off. He’s already lost most of his spiritual energy, and his golden core will be under attack soon. He has a month or two left, then he'll likely die. He'll get more time if I can find a way to slow it. I’m sure I will. Still, it’s a nasty thing to do to someone.”

Lan Xichen stared. As far as curses went, this one sounded particularly cruel to say the least. Someone must have hated that man a great deal to inflict such a fate on him.

“Does he have suspicions as to the perpetrator?” Lan Xichen asked, suddenly hit by an unpleasant intuition regarding the victim, yet unwilling to ask directly. If Wei Wuxian had given no name, it might have been meant to remain a secret.

“He’s not too sure,” Wei Wuxian replied, something almost wistful to his voice that secured Lan Xichen’s suspicions. “He thinks it’s likely someone from Lanling Jin sect. He had some dealings with Jin Guangyao and there’s always someone to miss the tyrant.”

“Wei Ying,” his husband said, glancing at his brother. Wei Wuxian grimaced.

“Right, right. I just meant that power changes are always bad for someone, and there’s probably a few people out there who wish the truth hadn’t been revealed. Jin Ling is quite determined to set things right in his sect, too, so a few people have lost a lot. No surprise someone would want revenge.”

What went around, came around, Lan Xichen thought. If the cursed man really was Nie Huaisang… With everything that he had done in the name of revenge, he could only blame himself if he suffered the same fate.

But that was perhaps an unkind thought to have. Jin Guangyao too had deserved his death, by that logic. And while he had ruthlessly put countless lives in danger, Nie Huaisang had only caused the death of two men whose actions had been… reprehensible. Some of that had been sheer luck though. Children could have died in Yi City, and a number of cultivators were seriously harmed in the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds. Nie Huaisang had only been lucky that Wei Wuxian had been around to save the day… though since he’d orchestrated his return, perhaps calling it luck was inexact.

Still, there was Mo Xuanyu then, a really innocent victim. A proof that Nie Huaisang was as bad as the man whose death he had provoked… though perhaps still not bad enough to deserve that curse. It sounded like such a cruel thing to do, made worse by the common knowledge that Nie Huaisang’s cultivation had always been somewhat… lacking. He would have had the strength to resist what was happening to him and it would have overcome him very fast. How else to explain he was already so close to the end when he came looking for help?

“Well, we won’t bother you anymore,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I hoped maybe you’d have an idea what could be happening to him. I guess I’ll just have to do my own research.”

“I imagine such a mystery would pick your interest.”

Wei Wuxian’s face did something weird, something between a smile and a grimace.

“I could have done without that one,” he muttered. “That little idiot is…”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji interrupts softly. 

If Lan Xichen hadn’t been here, he was sure his brother would have reached out to comfort his husband. They avoided showing their love in front of him, though he’d heard they’re quite shameless about it around everyone else. Lan Xichen suspected they had the wrong idea about him and Jin Guangyao, that they were trying to be considerate.

In a kinder world, one that had not so strongly twisted Jin Guangyao’s mind when it came to intimacy… but this was not the world they had lived in. Jin Guangyao would never have allowed anything that could brand him as being too much like his mother, so Lan Xichen never asked. He had long thought that they both wanted, though. Now, after everything, Lan Xichen wasn’t even sure of that. If Jin Guangyao had only used his affection to blind him…

“We’ll come visit again some other time,” Wei Wuxian promised. “Well, I’m sure your brother will.”

After his brother had left with his husband, Lan Xichen attempted to meditate. It had been his main occupation these last three years, and would likely remain until he felt ready to rejoin the world. Soon, probably. It was unfair to leave so many responsibilities on Lan Wangji’s shoulders. Besides, Lan Xichen was coming to the slow realisation that meditation was doing little to assuage the guilt of what had happened at Guanyin temple. A different approach might be worth a try. Drowning himself in work, the way his brother had done to deal with his own loss, was starting to become an attractive option. If nothing else, it might exhaust him enough that the nightmares would no longer matter.

That night, as expected, meditation only served to make him restless. Well past the accepted Lan bedtime, Lan Xichen gave up on finding any peace and decided to go for a walk around Cloud Recesses. He liked seeing his home in the moonlight, quieter than ever, the details drowned in darkness so it was less obvious how new the buildings still looked. He could almost have pretended nothing wrong had ever happened in this beautiful place, that there had been no fire, no death, no pain. It would be a pleasant lie to imagine, but a lie nonetheless.

Lan Xichen decided to leave behind the buildings, and with them the temptation of lying to himself. He had no precise goal in mind, but found himself coming near one of the ponds. To his surprise, there was already someone there. A slender figure sitting in the grass, gazing upon the water.

“I see you have not gone to Gusu after all,” Lan Xichen noted, coming closer.

Nie Huaisang startled at his voice, but did not turn to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, his eyes firmly set on the water.

“It is past curfew,” Lan Xichen replied. “But we make exceptions for guests.”

“I meant do you want me to leave Cloud Recesses,” Nie Huaisang clarified. “I imagine it’s unpleasant to know I am here.”

It was, certainly, though at least Lan Xichen’s seclusion meant he had a good excuse to avoid this new guest of theirs. And yet, there they were.

“It might be unwise. Do you not need Wei Wuxian’s treatments?”

“He seems to think so,” Nie Huaisang said lightly, as if it did not concern him what Wei Wuxian might want in this case.

It would have been easy then to leave him alone. A day earlier, Lan Xichen would have continued his walk, or returned home to meditate and try to forget this unpleasant encounter. A day earlier, he hadn’t known that Nie Huaisang was dying and likely looking for his murderer. 

“You came to see me yesterday. Do you suspect me of inflicting this curse upon you?”

At last Nie Huaisang turned around, propping himself on one arm and opening his fan in a vain effort to hide his laughter.

“You? Zewu-Jun, as if you could even want to hurt someone that way!”

“I would have said the same of you, once.”

Nie Huaisang’s laughter died down, but he remained hidden behind his fan.

“But we are different you and I, Zewu-Jun. You are a good man, while I... was never what I should have been. I used to wonder what that must be like.”

“To be good?” Lan Xichen asked, fighting the urge to point how he wasn’t. He’d let people suffer around him. He had blood on his hand, long before Guanyin temple. Everyone who took part in the Sunshot Campaign did, but as a commander Lan Xichen had to bear the weight of losing the men who served under his orders as well as those he killed himself.

“To be able to trust,” Nie Huaisang corrected, raising the fan until only his eyes showed. “I’m not very skilled at that, I must say. It comes slowly to me, and in the end the one I’ve trusted the most was… unworthy of it.”

Lan Xichen thought of the way Jin Guangyao, after being accepted at Carp Tower, never saw Nie Huaisang without bringing him a present of some sort, how he took a keen interest in what the boy loved, how he tried more than once to convince Nie Mingjue to accept that his little brother would never be as fierce as him. At the time, Lan Xichen had taken it as a mark of kindness or pity for a boy who cowered in the shadow of a great man, and knew Nie Huaisang might have felt the same.

But perhaps none of those gestures had ever been about Nie Huaisang. What surer way could there be of angering Nie Mingjue than to encourage everything he despised in his brother? Even if it had been genuine at the time, the memories would be tainted by doubt. Just as Lan Xichen’s were.

“I am sorry for being so chatty,” Nie Huaisang sighed, closing his fan and playing with it. “I’ll be returning to my room shortly.”

“I can walk you there,” Lan Xichen offered, out of habit. Cloud Recesses was an easy place to get lost in, especially in the dark.

The offer made Nie Huaisang tense so violently that it had to be genuine. No one could be that good of an actor… or could they? 

“Please don’t take that pain,” Nie Huaisang said quietly. “I was thinking of sitting here a little longer.”

He sounded perfectly calm, but the hand holding his fan couldn’t contain a small tremor.

Lan Xichen thought back of their conversation the day before, the way Nie Huaisang had nearly collapsed at the end and treated it as something perfectly normal. The curse was attacking his meridians, Wei Wuxian had said, and had nearly blocked off all of them. If that was true (and Wei Wuxian would have checked so it had to be) then it was already nothing short of a miracle that Nie Huaisang had made it from the Unclean Realm to Cloud Recesses. 

Lan Xichen, in spite of himself, found that he pitied that young man sitting in the grass. Nobody deserved that sort of death.

“If you cannot get up on your own, I’ll help,” Lan Xichen offered, holding out his hand.

Nie Huaisang did not take it.

“I would have thought you’d had enough of helping me by now,” he retorted, sounding almost like the boy who kept running to Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao for advice. “You don’t have to force yourself, Zewu-Jun. I’ll manage.”

Lan Xichen ignored his protest and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet with more easy than he’d have expected. Nie Huaisang, always slender, weighed nothing. That was for the best, because his trembling legs could not support him and he fell against Lan Xichen’s chest, clinging to his robe with what little strength he had.

“You didn’t need to do that!” he complained, the words muffled against the fabric. “I could do it on my own, I just need to do it… a little slower than that.”

To prove his point, Nie Huaisang tried to push himself away from Lan Xichen, only to lose his balance. He would have collapsed if the older man hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him back against him.

“Perhaps you should not wander alone if the curse affects you so much,” Lan Xichen scolded him, falling easily into old habits. They had sometimes had to hold Nie Huaisang in that manner, right after his brother’s death, when he was still half a boy and didn’t know how to handle his new responsibilities. Or had he already guessed at the truth, was he already playing with their emotions a decade earlier?

“I really am fine!” Nie Huaisang protested. “If I don’t move too quickly, it’s… it’s not that big of a deal. And if I fall somewhere… does it really matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no regrets, my sect will be taken care of,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice hollow. “My brother’s head disciple will finally have the title that he deserves and we’ve started taking steps to see if he can be spared from Qi deviation. I have no family left to cry for me. No friends I haven’t alienated when I used them as pawns. And I knew that my life would be short. It always is for leaders of the Nie sect. I could avoid my sabre, but fate caught up anyway.”

“Are you really satisfied with that?”

“No," Nie Huaisang retorted hotly, his mask dropping for a second to reveal an expression that wouldn't have been out of place on his brother's face. He soon regained his composure, smiling almost as sweetly as before. "Nobody wants to die, and I’m not different. But if it must happen, I need to make my peace with it. I cannot risk…”

He shuddered in Lan Xichen’s arms, another reaction that felt genuine.

“Your brother’s fate was exceptional,” Lan Xichen remarked. “You would not return in the manner he did. You might not die at all,” he added after some hesitation. “Wei Wuxian sounded confident that he could lift the curse.”

“Wei Wuxian thinks he can solve everything if he just tries hard enough,” Nie Huaisang muttered. “Maybe he could have, if I came earlier.”

“How long have you known you were cursed?”

“Long enough,” Nie Huaisang replied. “I thought I had more time, but being an inadequate cultivator has always been my weakness.”

(and that’s all I got. Of course they’d figure a way of saving him and lxc while still angry would realise he doesn’t want nhs to die. Probably there’d be a lot of discussion of how jgy influenced both of them)

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                               Doyle Quillian, who is known by no other name;                                                       a 25 year old son of Brigit.                                           He is a pathologist at Asclepius General                                            and a medical specialist for the  MPPD.

FC NAME/GROUP: kim doyoung / nct, nct-127 CHARACTER NAME: doyle quillian AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 1st February, 1994 (25 years old) PLACE OF BIRTH: Dublin, Ireland OCCUPATION: pathologist at Asclepius General (full time), forensics (medical specialist for the police – on call for murders only), freelance comic book artist, poet and painter, sometimes teaches self-defence classes DEFINING FEATURES: He was often described as having piercing eyes and an infesting smile. He does look serious most of the times, mainly because he is concentrated, but also because his vision is quite bad (he does wear glasses, but not always). He has a birthmark on his hipbone in the shape of a flower because of his mother, and he has the phrase ‘qui tacet consentit’ (lat. silence gives consent) tattooed very small in his handwriting on the inside of his left middle finger.

PERSONALITY: Doyle is simply fascinating. From the way he talks to people, to the way he makes them feel. Even if they are just his little experiment, he offers them something they all crave for deep inside: attention. He is a master of words, and his honest and sharp tongue hits right where it should, when it should. However, he is quite distant, and does not let people know him. He is the type of person who would answer to ‘how are you’ with ‘but how are you’. The less people know about him, the better, because he is very private. Still, somehow, you cannot dislike him, even if he hurts you. He has the alluring charm of a cult leader, and strategy of a psychopath. He distrusts everyone, so it is natural for him to get suspicious and research people. His philosophy tells him that only dead men do not lie.

HISTORY: The Celtic goddess Brigit praises herself in being for the most part driven by her good nature. But it is in the nature of mankind – no exclusion to gods here – to get a little feisty, maybe a little adventurous once in a while. Still, she did not betray her oath to her father – never to bear children, for she was to help other women bear children. The oath never said anything about creating her own children. So she tried, for years and years. She made her first one out of metal, but he did not survive long enough to tell his tale. She tried again, made him out of twigs, but he could not speak so he chose to die. For centuries she tried to forge a child, for she could create none.

It takes two to give life.

He was a wealthy Korean man, who insisted that he was not vile. Perhaps his sweet smile, and kind face betrayed the women who adored him so. He had something for naivety, and those eighteen year olds were perfect for his experiments. Money buys immunity. So when they found the girls, one by one, mutilated, and unrecognisable, they did not think to blame him. They captured another, one that was not innocent, but no murderer. He escaped, and never looked back. Still, there was no denying that he was absolutely beautiful. And handsome people surely deserve to be forgiven for their sins, right?

Brigit forgave him. Whether it was because of the suffocating feeling of love or because of need is unknown. He liked her, very much so. He wanted to make her his, so infatuated he was. He fantasied about bathing in her sweet, virgin blood. But his carnal desire was not fulfilled. Brigit collected his seed, and transformed him. Now, legends can be wrong, or misguiding. The most reliable source talks about a plant, whose scent is so disgusting, it attracts maggots and flies. Yes, it does smell like rotten flesh. And he was transformed into one of those flowers, but what do we know anyways?

With her human seed, and her incredible talent, Brigit managed to forge a child, her first son. He was frail, and she feared he would die in her arms like the others. But he was a fighter. He survived, and they lived together for years. The story could end here, but stories rarely have a happy ending. The boy grew up as handsome as his father, and as talented as his mother. At the age of three, he composed a three verse poem about the frogs on their porch. At the age of five, he inked the tree in their garden on a scroll. At the age of eight, he broke a wooden plaque with his bare hands, and won a strength contest at school. And at the age of ten, he showed an incredible interest and talent in healing, tending small animals and later larger ones. It would have all been wonderful, if Brigit would have not gifted him with one more thing. The seed of a murderer.

His urges were easy to control at first. He never wanted to hurt animals, so tending to their wounds and helping them die has not raised any unwanted needs. And do not get him wrong, he really did try to control himself. But the lure of blood – you cannot understand, not unless you feel it. It started when he was fifteen, and was entering puberty – hormones moving all over. Most teens are motivated to do wrong things because of something so normal it is almost boring. He was unfortunate enough to witness a car crash. Most people would shy away from such experiences, some never really recovering, some would remember them forever and fear cars as a result. But he was not most people. He watched, fascinated as the blood dripped. It flowed and reached his feet, soaking his sneakers. It felt like a force was speaking to him, calling him. He fell on his knees, in the blood. His pants got soaked, his eyes closed, he felt it. A shudder of pleasure, no, it was much more. It was like he has been blind until now, like he has not had water in weeks. And suddenly he could see, and his thirst was no longer there. The authorities thought he fainted out of shock, and he was forced to go to therapy until they assured his mother there was nothing wrong.

Brigit knew better. She feared her secret would be uncovered, and her benevolent father will punish her for creating a monster. But she could not kill him. She just could not. So with her powers of healing, she tried to heal him. She left, made herself gone. Soon, the boy forgot her. Whether he wanted to or not, it is unknown. The only thing he remembers is a head of orange hair leaving, walking towards the sunset. He painted the exact image a thousand times, yet he never found his answer. He was sent to an orphanage, where he grew up until he turned eighteen. He worked very hard to get into college, and chose to study medicine. Well aware that he is special, he used his powers to help the less fortunate.

The story is not over yet.

Doyle, the name he chose for himself, is a part time night crawler – or in modern terms, killer. The chances of getting caught are so low, he is confident he will keep his hobby for years, and years. To drop all gruesome details, just imagine a trail of bodies everywhere he goes, and unsolved cases, or solved cases – under his assistance. Despite his thirst for blood, he kept his moral self in check. He killed out of necessity, so he targeted bad people. Or those he considered to be immoral. Paedophiles, thieves, abusers, rapists, and the like. He hunted them, and tortured them. There is no reason to cut the life of sinners short.

Eventually, he followed a group of friends to Mount Phoenix. Knowing they are special like he is, and with the promise of a better Neverland, he joined them on their one week journey to this mysterious place. And when he got there, he decided that he will never leave. The chaos never ends on Phoenix, and he is there to entertain it.

PANTHEON: Celtic CHILD OF: Brigit POWERS: Doyle is incredibly talented, and is lucky enough to succeed at everything he touches. He is an asset to solving murders, because he can read the dead better than anyone. He is an incredible fighter, martial arts run in his blood but he is not practicing. However, if there were a fight, he could easily face almost any enemy. He is an artist, in every sense of the word. Sometimes dreaming of a better reality, perhaps. He writes poetry in his free time, and blessed by his mother, his source of inspiration seems to never run short. STRENGTHS: talented in medicine, arts, and martial arts WEAKNESSES: has an uncontrollable thirst for blood and violence; he is mentally unstable and antisocial (despite not showing it) – he tends to isolate himself; his luck depends on circumstances, he is not a supernaturally lucky person and things can go wrong and he could be discovered; his emotions do not always work right, most of the times he cannot feel anything (sociopath tendencies); he could lose control of himself if he murders the wrong person – cannot mentally handle guilt

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Under Her Wing - Drakgo fic

Shego is instructed by Dr. Director to teach Kim a thing or two. Set after Graduation but in 2019 verse. 

TAG LIST (based on who interacted with my tag list post. If you were added by mistake or not added at all, please let me know!)

@sweet-or-sarcastic // @anavrp // @sophiecooper18 // @random-emerald-thoughts // @benjimators // @marvelousavengfulslytherin // @littlevirago // @evielovesfood // @dianenguyenbjh // @brianaisontheinterwebs // @saultnpeppah // @poisonivy123

Shego sat bored with her legs kicked up on the lab table as she watched her husband meticulously extract DNA from the toe of a Spinosaurus. For what he was going to use it for, she wasn’t entirely sure. She was just there to make sure he didn’t blow himself up. She was just his bodyguard/sidekick/liaison/mostly unwilling secretary, not his science partner. This was a guy who looked up to Doc Brown rather than Hawking.

Her phone buzzed in the pouch strapped to her leg. Things were slow that day, so she decided to take a peek. It was an email from Facebook saying she had a message on her old public profile, one she had not used since she was a hero with her brothers. Her curiosity piqued, she opened Facebook and signed out of her current, private account. She tapped the side of her phone as she tried to remember her old password.  After a few tries, she got in.

Her inbox with inundated with old and recent messages. She paid no attention to past messages from fans who were upset that she turned evil, edgelords who were threatened by a strong woman, and recent messages that praised her from turning her life around. The first message was just too shocking. It was from Kimberly Ann Possible. It read:

“Umm, hi Shego. This is Kim Possible. I don’t know if you even check this profile anymore. Dr. Director wanted me to get in contact with you, but she didn’t really tell me how lol. She wanted me to ask if you could do some training with me?”

“NO!” Shego yelled, standing straight up, her phone creaking in her grasp.

Drakken flinched, “You made me break the helix!” He whined.

“Dr. Director wants me to train Kim Possible.”

“Eww,” Drakken grimaced.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not some babysitter.” Shego exclaimed as she stormed off for Dr. Director’s office.

“Go get her, babe,” Drakken said, his mind more focused on his work.

Shego breezed past the security and barged into Director’s office, stunning the guards with her plasma. The burly men crumpled to the floor in a twitching heap.

“Ah, Mrs. Lipsky, I was wondering when you’d force yourself in here again and maim Ethan and Reid.” Director replied calmly, only glancing up at the scene “Was it last week you came in here like a bull in a china shop because we switched your husband’s lab time or was it the time before that?”

“I am not working with Kim Possible.” Shego seethed, leaning over Director’s desk and staring straight at the other woman. Director did not look up from her paperwork. Shego slammed her hands down, causing a hairline crack to form between the women.

“Did I ask?” Dr. Director countered.

Shego scoffed. “You know, this isn’t working for me. I think I’m done here.” She said as she threw her ID badge on Director’s desk and turned to walk out.

“So, you’ll give up all the comfort we’ve given you and your husband? Your home, your records totally expunged, his lab and all the resources he could ever want or need? You two are a ‘package deal’ as I believe your very own agreement states? If you leave, so does he.”

Shego stopped in her tracks.

She wouldn’t take that away from Drew. Not when he was getting the recognition he always wanted.

She turned on her heel. “I’m only staying because I haven’t gotten to use the bazooka yet.” She said through gritted teeth, pointing menacingly at Director.

“She’ll be on your doorstep at 8:15 tomorrow morning.” Dr. Director said as she threw Shego her ID badge to her.

~*~

Kim Possible didn’t get nervous about many things. She took down villains before she could even vote without a trace of fear. Today, as she drove to the address Dr. Director gave her last night, Kim Possible was nervous.

Secretly, Kim idolized Shego when she was younger. She remembered seeing Shego and her brothers on TV and followed her dutifully on what little social media existed back then. When Shego left Team Go, Kim was heartbroken, and her stomach dropped the first time she saw Shego working with Drakken. When Team Go broke up, Kim decided to take up Shego’s mantle when the opportunity presented itself. Now that Drakken and Shego went good or more likely, neutral, maybe she and Shego could be friends in the future? Kim still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she was going to be trained by Shego because it was Shego the hero Kim looked up to for many years and it was Shego her sworn enemy at one point.

Regardless of it all, Kim knew today would be interesting.

~*~

Meanwhile, Drakken took sleeping seriously. It’s where he got most of his ideas. When the doorbell rang at 8:00, he was not a happy camper. He groaned like a wounded animal, not even noticing Shego’s absence in bed. He haphazardly threw on a robe and stumbled down the stairs and opened the front door.

“I’ll take three Thin Mints, two Samoas and three Tagalongs,” Drakken said, yawning, handing what he thought was a fifty-dollar bill. It was really dog treats and lint.

“Um, no,” Kim said sheepishly, gently pushing his hand away. “It’s Kim…Possible? I’m here for Shego…”

Shego came down the stairs in her signature green and black catsuit.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Shego asked, eyeing the teen up and down.

“Yeah? We’re gonna work out, right?” Kim was dressed in a tee shirt, leggings and sneakers, her red hair pulled back from her face.

Shego sighed and shook her head, “Fine, it’s whatever. Next time, wear what you’d wear on a mission. If it’s gonna be in the way, we need to know. It has to be able to perform.” She chided.

Kim felt silly for making the mistake. Shego even used her ‘teacher tone’ on her from when she substituted for Kim’s teacher. “Okay. Will do.”

Shego physically moved her half-asleep husband out of the way. “Well? Let’s go. I don’t want this to be an all-day thing.”

“Oh, uh, can I drive?” Kim asked, beaming.

A beat passed of Shego just staring at Kim in disbelief.

Shego turned to Drakken, “I want to be cremated.”

“I want Thin Mints.” The mad scientist lamented as the women walked to the car parked at the curb.

Janice was gawking at Shego as though she never saw a female body before. Shego gave a sarcastic wave.

“Who’s that?” Kim asked as they put their seatbelts on.

“The worst neighbor in the world,” Shego replied, putting sunglasses on. She flashed Janice a killer smile as they pulled out of the neighborhood.

It had already been decided for them that they would train at GJ’s onsite gym. Shego started Kim on stretches and a five-minute run, correcting her form here and there alongside her. Shego knew it was likely that Director was watching but it didn’t bother her. She was doing what she was supposed to do.

The timer on Shego’s phone went off and they slowed to a walk. She went over to a wall of equipment and took a padded strike shield and held it up.

“Let me see you punch,” Shego instructed.

Kim squared herself and threw her best one.

“No! No! No!” Shego exclaimed like a director with a cast who forgot their lines. “Who taught you to fight, your grandma?”

Kim didn’t know whether to confirm that her grandmother had indeed taught her a thing or two.

“Harder, you’re not going to hurt me,” Shego instructed. Kim wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort or insult her.

For a period of time, Shego refined Kim’s punches and kicks.

“Now, I want you to try to take me down and restrain me.”

Kim charged at Shego, tackling the older woman to the floor. Shego knew that she had to let Kim learn, but that didn’t mean she went down easily. She was able to shake Kim off and roll away. Shego stood, about to jump away, when Kim got her in a headlock.

“Tuck your thumb in you idiot!” Shego said grabbing Kim’s four other fingers by one hand and Kim’s thumb with the other. “Do you know how easily I could rip your thumb off?”

Shego shrugged Kim off. “Again.” She ordered.

Shego let Kim get her into a headlock, this time with proper placement. They wrestled and tackled each other until Kim grabbed Shego’s hair, thinking she’d instantly surrender. Instead, Shego pushed back into Kim’s grasp, rather than wrench away.  Kim stumbled allowing Shego to escape.

“I will give you props for going for my hair.” Shego said, “I should probably start putting it in a bun. If anyone tries it with you, do what I did and push into it. You’ll knock your opponent off balance usually or lose hair if you try to pull away.”

“Right,” Kim nodded.

Kim was about to ask Shego if she wanted some water, “Hey Stepha-“

Shego immediately tackled Kim to the ground. “Do not call me that. I’m still Shego to you.”

“Okay, fine,” Kim replied, pushing Shego away.

Kim grabbed them each a bottle of water. The two sat in awkward silence on the mat.

“Who taught you all this stuff? Did you just learn on the go?” Kim asked.

“I’ve had a trainer since I was 16,” Shego answered, taking a drink.

That made sense, Kim thought. Around that time was when Team Go debuted. They must have had some training before their first mission.

Shego stood and went to get the First Aid pack and CPR dummy from the equipment wall.

“Are you going to teach me CPR?” Kim asked excitedly.

“You don’t know First Aid and CPR?” Shego asked skeptically.

“No…” Kim said, her face red with embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you’re more behind than I even thought. Do you just leave after you blow up someone’s lair? What about the populace surrounding it? What happens if you have to do search and rescue after a natural disaster? You’re a hero. You should know this stuff. It’s not all stopping heists and whatnot.”

“I’ve never done anything like that…”

“I have!”

Kim was beginning to get a greater understanding of Shego. What kind of things has she seen? Kim wasn’t going to pry and knew Shego wouldn’t tell her anything if she tried. Kim remembered that Team Go doubled as first responders at times. Kim had a vivid memory of seeing Shego being airlifted over the wreckage of a collapsed building to look for survivors on the news, her green and black feet dangling over the rubble. Shego couldn’t have been older than 17 at the time. Who pushed her into such a traumatizing and adult situation?

“Look, let’s forget about the past for right now or we won’t survive this. Truce?” Kim asked.

Shego only nodded but took Kim’s hand and pulled her up.

Kim smiled and took Shego’s leather-clad hand. It was a start; a small start, but a start nonetheless.

“Do you know how to properly headbutt someone?” Shego grinned, wickedly.

[ziamfanfiction]

this week’s ziam ao3 feed

hey guys, this week we had some great works, remember to leave kudos and a comment to make a writers day!

fics posted/updated from April 23rd to the 30th 

A Growing Dysfunctional Family by the_less_i_know (wip)

I don't really know how to summarize this... but at its most basic the story is set in a world where humans and supernatural beings exist, except that humans of course are unaware of the supernatural world. It's a messy story where Liam and Zayn fall in love, but it's not solely focused on their relationship. This means that if you're just expecting to read about ziam only, then this story probably isn't for you. This story is not just about romantic love, but about friendship and family love too. It starts out with Normani, Zayn, and Louis, who kind of set the tone of the story and it all develops from there. Dinah is 27, Louis is 26, Zayn is 25, and Normani is 20. Liam and Niall are 23. Ally, Harry, and Lauren don't have any concrete ages so yeah.

Shawcross Park by Niler (wip)

Liam isn't a singer, a dancer or even a builder.

Zayn is one of the above.

Deep Enough to Drown by LetTheMusicMoveYou (wip)

Liam can’t help but wonder if this is a beginning or an end? Technically it’s the end of Double L Technologies and Malik Industries being on opposing sides of this game, whatever the hell it is. But he’s still not really sure how that leaves him and Zayn specifically. Are they beginning or ending? Did they ever stop?

(Or the one where Liam and Zayn are still former friends turned lovers turned enemies with rival technology companies. Except now they find themselves on the same side fighting a common enemy, but things are still complicated).

Title from Feel It by Jacquees ft. Lloyd & Rich Homie Quan

Part 2 of Stretching You Out Like You Are Elastic

What About Us? by iwasnthere (wip)

Liam shakes his head. “I was getting on fine without you!”

“And you think I was wallowing in misery without you? I didn’t even think about you anymore!” Zayn steps into Liam’s space. “Two years without you, I turned out fine.”

“Yeah?” Liam challenges. “Then why are you here?”

Zayn stares at him. “I’m asking myself the same thing. I’m sure you are too.”

Diet Soda Society by SpookyFaces (wip)

Zayn is a villain with daddy issues. Liam is a superhero with a fragile heart.

The thing is - they are roommates. Liam would never think Zayn is his enemy, and Zayn wouldn't even guess anything about Liam being a hero at nights. They keep making excuses to each other about why they are out all the time when something happens and lying about why their bodies are covered in scratches in bruises.

Oh, and they are in love. But this is just another secret they try to hide from each other.

sHe [Ziam] by happydaysbus1 (wip)

no summary

Demons by PubuMalik_love_ZaynMalik_FOREVER (wip)

“I’m not available.” Zayn blurted out. “You’re married?” “No.” “Engaged?” “No.” “Living with someone?” Zayn shook head. Liam was quite for a seconds, staring at Zayn as if Zayn was a puzzle that he wanted to solve. “I’ll see you later,” he said eventually. “And in the meantime… I’m going to figure out how to get a ‘yes’ out of you.” Or Zayn is a wedding planner who's coordinating his first biggest wedding with his sister Sophia as he happened to meet handsome rich Liam payne on the wedding day.

The Truth Will Set You Free by ziamruinedmylife

Zayn wakes up the next day to the news that Liam has taken on the case of the kid, to oppose Zayn and prove that he isn’t a killer.

To say he’s pissed beyond belief goes without saying, but somehow he thinks that he should’ve seen this coming.

Or

A Lawyer AU in which I accidentally made Ziam detectives as well and they solve crimes and figure out their feelings.

Two Point 0 by watyonameisgurl (wip)

“Because healing is messy and ugly and slow and doesn’t just happen in a progressive line. Sometimes...sometimes it’s gonna feel like you’re going backwards or sideways or every direction but forward, and you might not ever feel the same as you were, you might always be different from the person you used to be, but sometimes that’s okay...”

Zayn looks out at the sea of faces staring back at him, fights down the anxiety still threatening to overwhelm him even though he’s almost through now. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but there’s so many of them, looking to him. And seeing all of them here, now, in front him—even if it still isn’t all of them—is a bit overwhelming. As he looks around though he catches sight of Liam in the sea of faces, smiling proudly, and that’s all it takes. He can already feel himself relaxing, powering through the last of what he wants and needs to say. Counting down the moments until he’s back by Liam’s side again, safe and sound and that’s what gets him through.

[Or: Zayn keeps healing, Liam does too. But it’s not easy when there are so many forces still so determined not to let them. And fighting them alone is one thing. But the problem is it’s not just Zayn's fight anymore.]

Part 2 of Twelve Verse

Attention Please by LonelyAquarian (wip)

Zayn replaces Liam as the center of attention.

The King Of Queens by LHSHIP (wip)

Zayn was just like every other fangirl, except he was a boy. To be exact, the only boy in a girls’ only world, the Liam Payne fandom. His internet friends - all girls of course - thought he should be referred to as "The King Of Queens" apparently being the only boy who openly drooled over singer Liam Payne. And he liked it, not only because it was his dad’s favorite TV show but also because he'd always called all of his girls “queens” to make them feel special.

So yes, he was one of those totally obsessed fans who basically spent all of their time on Twitter because of a super famous and successful celebrity who didn’t even know about their existence. And sometimes Zayn had to deal with his real life and real problems such as the upcoming class reunion and a missing date.

And maybe he was a just a tiny little bit of in love with Liam Payne...

these battle scars don't look like they're fading by angelica_barnes

zayn and liam are in love and so are louis and harry but there's so much sadness and hands touching them and when they go to bed at night they never want to wake up again but zayn makes them and they survive but it's not living.

it's okay not to be okay by angelica_barnes

zayn's mom tells him things and he doesn't know why and she's so mean to him but then again he's never had any friends before so how could he know the meaning between mean and normal well he doesn't and so he listens.

until liam and louis and harry and niall come along and liam is so kind and they fall so in love and everything turns out okay even though zayn still isn't.

without a care, i was out of touch (you stress me out, you kill me) by angelica_barnes

esme listens to her best friend faith spill all these rumors and is shocked to watch them all turn out to be true.

zayn and liam fall in love and then over again and she watches while she falls in love herself.

Encouraging Murder by DexterMcShipper (wip)

Liam is a pretty fantastic attorney, maybe impossible to work with, a workaholic, maybe borderline depressed and lonely, but brilliant nevertheless. When a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney comes in and proves that maybe Liam isn't impossible to work with? Maybe falling in love along the way? Who knows?

All the different kinds of flowers by Androgyne, ZoeRavenclaw28 (wip)

When Liam, the future Tsars right-hand man, meets Zayn, the son of an Emir, his world turns upside-down.

A story about late-night chess games, scents, herbs, and so so many flowers.

Part 2 of All The Different Kinds Of Flowers

i'll be the one if you want me to by angelica_barnes (MCD)

ring around the rosy a pocket full of posies ashes, ashes

we all fall

down.

you weren't there when i was scared by angelica_barnes

years after their careers come to a close, one direction and their family give some revealing interviews.

let's just say modest is going down the drain after this.

I’m looking down on you smiling, and I didn’t feel a thing so, baby, don’t feel no pain, just smile back by angelica_barnes

Zayn is never home, really. And his daughter misses him, his family misses him. His husband misses him.

And Zayn's still completely in love with his husband, even if they don't get to see much of each other anymore.

But is Liam still in love with him?

In The Locker Room by LiftMeUpLarry

Zayn Malik as the water boy on the football team.

Liam Payne captain of the football team.

Liam is horny.

Zayn is ready to leave and lock up the locker room but not until everyone leaves.

Baby You Can Drive My Car (Probably) by louandhazza12 (wip)

Fuck it, he thought. He opened Facebook and made a terrible late-night decision. Hitting ‘post’, he wasn’t even filled with regret - that would come in the morning.

"Wanted: a companion for a road trip to Edinburgh. Lively conversation is neither required nor encouraged. Will be stopping semi-frequently for snack breaks. Companion will have control of the music for 50% of the journey, also required to drive for 50%. Please express interest via private message."

_________________________

Zayn asks Facebook for a road trip buddy and Liam comes a-knocking.

tonight, you go by angelica_barnes

zayn and liam fall in love. and they're perfect for each other, and they're happy, but all couples fight.

and not all couples give up, but they do.

Part 1 of has it ever been just you and me?

cause we both know how this ends by angelica_barnes

zayn and liam say they're done with each other. they find nice girls, who are kind and sweet and beautiful, but they aren't who the boys need them to be.

but if these two boys were anything, it's stubborn.

Part 2 of has it ever been just you and me?

-less by angelica_barnes

zayn doesn't know how to think. all he knows is he loves liam and he wants to die.

he doesn't know what he's supposed to choose.

maybe he shouldn't.

Beyond Words by StoryAnonGuy33 (wip)

"Some things are beyond words" Liam added lightly, Zayn laying back down on Liam's chest. "They are, aren't they?" He commented back, Liam smiling and kissing the top of his head. "You bet babe"

Or when Liam and Zayn attend the same college and with budding and cemented feelings between the two, will things turn out the way they want?

Paradise Island : Creation by Steel_Magnolia14

Liam and Zayn are vampires that decide that have always wanted adult babies. Now after thousands of years of existing and accumulating wealth they purchase the top notch technology and the perfect Island big enough to start their community so that other vampires, witches, werewolves and other supernatural creatures can enjoy the same thing. At the same time they find three perfect humans boys that they wish to turn into their babies.

Part 1 of Paradise Island Series

Within You Without You by PersephoneJones (wip)

Liam started to swipe up to unlock his phone, and then paused, thumb hovering over the screen. He’d been angry at Zayn for a very long time. Probably still was, to be honest. It wasn’t even about him leaving the band. It was that Zayn hadn’t just walked away from his job. He’d walked away from their friendship. Five years of togetherness and camaraderie, and what Liam (and just about everyone else) had thought was a special bond.

Or, the one where Zayn dipped out, sank the Ziam ship, and didn't even bother to call. Can Liam forgive him? Does he want to? And just why have the two of them always been so cuddly with each other, anyway?

[antoine-roquentin]

On the surface, the massive street protests surrounding the April 19 gubernatorial election have arisen from opposition to Jakarta’s ethnic Chinese incumbent governor, Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, known as Ahok. As a result of pressure from the well-funded, well-organized demonstrations that have drawn hundreds of thousands — perhaps millions — to Jakarta’s streets, Gov. Ahok is currently standing trial for religious blasphemy because of an offhand comment about a verse in the Quran. On Thursday, the day after he hears the results of the very close governor’s election, he is due back in court for his blasphemy trial.

Yet in repeated, detailed conversations with me, key protest figures and officials who track them have dismissed the movement against Ahok and the charges against him as a mere pretext for a larger objective: sidelining the country’s president, Jokowi, and helping the army avoid consequences for its mass killings of civilians — such as the 1965 massacres that were endorsed by the U.S. government, which armed and backed the Indonesian military.

Serving as the main face and public voice of the generals’ political thrust has been a group of what Indonesians call preman — officially sponsored street thugs — in this case, the Islamic Defenders Front, or FPI (Front Pembela Islam). Originally established by the security forces — the aparat — in 1998 as an Islamist front group to assault dissidents, the FPI has been implicated in violent extortion, especially of bars and sex clubs, as well as murders and attacks on mosques and churches. During the mass protests against the governor, FPI leader Habib Rizieq Shihab has openly called for Ahok to be “hanged” and “butchered.”

Joining Rizieq at the protests atop a mobile command platform have been the FPI’s spokesman and militia chief, Munarman, as well as Fadli Zon, who is known for publicly praising Donald Trump and appeared with the candidate at a press conference at Trump Tower during the opening days of the presidential campaign. Fadli Zon serves as the right-hand man of the country’s most notorious mass-murdering general, Prabowo Subianto, who was defeated by Jokowi in the 2014 election.

Munarman, who has been videotaped at a ceremony in which a roomful of young men swear allegiance to ISIS and its leader, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, is also a corporate lawyer working for the Indonesian branch of the mining colossus Freeport McMoRan, now controlled by Carl Icahn, President Trump’s friend and deregulation adviser. Although the Trump connections appear to be very important for the coup plotters, it is unknown whether Trump or Icahn have any direct knowledge of the Indonesian coup movement.

The FPI demonstrations in Jakarta, officially shunned by the country’s top mainstream Muslim groups, have been endorsed in messages from Indonesian ISIS personnel in Syria. The FPI, for its part, has waved black ISIS flags at Prabowo rallies and has officially endorsed the call of Al Qaeda chief Ayman al-Zawahri for Al Qaeda and ISIS to pursue their common fight in Iraq, Syria, and elsewhere....

One intelligence report asserted that the FPI-led protest movement was being funded in part by Tommy Suharto — son of the former dictator Suharto — who once served time for having a judge who displeased him shot in the head. Tommy’s financial contributions were also affirmed to me by retired Gen. Kivlan Zein. Kivlan, who helped the FPI lead a massive November protest in Jakarta, is currently facing the charge of treason (makar) for allegedly trying to overthrow the government during the recent protest drive. He is also the former campaign chair for Gen. Prabowo, who was defeated by President Jokowi in the 2014 presidential election.

Another report asserted that some funds came from Donald Trump’s billionaire business partner Hary Tanoe, who was repeatedly described to me by key movement figures as being among their most important supporters. Last Friday night, when I sat down with a roomful of such figures — none of whom requested anonymity — they expressed excitement about their closeness to Hary and his personal and financial relationship with President Trump, who along with his son Eric welcomed Hary to Trump Tower and the inauguration. They said they hoped Hary, who is building two Trump resorts in Indonesia, would serve as a bridge between Trump and Gen. Prabowo. Manimbang Kahariady, an executive of Prabowo’s political party, said he had met with Hary three days before. He and others at the meeting were convinced that Hary is telling Trump about the need to back the movement and remove their adversaries, beginning with Ahok....

New-Style Communism, or Komunisme Gaya Baru, abbreviated “KGB,” is a concept whose menace is framed with sketches of Stalin, Pol Pot, and Hitler — and appears to be broadly enough defined to include any critic of the army anywhere.

Referring to such purportedly communist policies as “free health care and education programs,” the document denounces “idealizing pluralism and diversity in the social system” as a specific “KGB” threat now rising in Indonesia. Using threat assessment techniques drawn from Western intelligence doctrine and texts — excerpts from which are used, sometimes in English — the document warns of the communist enemy “separating the army from people” and “using human rights and democracy issues while positioning oneself as victim to gain sympathy.”

The statement about human rights victims is an apparent reference to figures such as the brilliant social justice advocate Munir Said Thalib, my friend, who was assassinated in 2004 with a massive dose of arsenic that caused him to vomit to death on a flight to Amsterdam, or the victims of the 1965 slaughter of perhaps a million civilians, carried out by the army with U.S. backing in order to consolidate power after an attempted coup.

The 1965 massacre came up when I sat down with retired Gen. Kivlan Zein, who said that if Jokowi refused to accede to the army’s wishes, similar tactics could be deployed again.

Like many officials I spoke with, Kivlan said that the current army-backed street movement and crisis began as a result of the Symposium, a 2016 forum organized by the Jokowi government that allowed survivors and descendants of ’65 to publicly describe what had happened to them and to discuss how their loved ones died. For much of the army, the Symposium was an intolerable outrage and in itself justified the coup movement. One general told me that what most outraged his colleagues was that “it made the victims feel good.” The Symposium, of course, had nothing to do with Gov. Ahok or with religious questions of any kind. It was about the army and its crimes.

“If not for the Symposium, there wouldn’t be a movement now,” Kivlan told me. “Now the communists are on the rise again,” Kivlan complained. “They want to establish a new communist party. The victims of ’65, they all blame us. … Maybe we’ll fight them again, like ’65.”

I was taken aback by that and wanted to make sure I had heard correctly.

“It could happen,’65 could be repeated all over again,” he repeated.

And the reason?

“They are seeking redress.”

In other words, Kivlan was raising the specter of new mass slaughter if the old victims did not learn to forget. Kivlan then went on to detail why the ’65 coup was justified. He said that the ousted president, Sukarno, who was by then the army’s virtual captive, had given an order for the army to take over. The army “was handed power” by the congress.

Could that happen again now, I asked?

“It could,” the general said. “The army could move again now, like Suharto in that era.”...

Although privately movement leaders and their sponsors spoke incessantly of the army, evading justice, and seizing power, on the streets outside the theme was decidedly religious. Walking among the huge crowd at one action at the Istliqlal mosque near the palace, it was clear to me that although the protest movement was fronted by the FPI, it had drawn a wide swath of people, many of whom were demonstrating simply because they were conservative or felt aggrieved.

The proximate cause of that grievance was Ahok and his allegedly blasphemy in suggesting that non-Muslims could lead Muslims. (Ahok is also justly criticized for his evictions of the poor.) It was therefore quite illuminating to hear the leaders of the coup movement privately minimize those themes.

Kivlan surprised me when he remarked offhandedly that Ahok had given the movement a “gift” with his “slip of the tongue” regarding the Quran.

The required public stance of movement leaders was to claim to be forever wounded by Ahok’s remark asking people not to be deceived by rivals trying to use a Quranic verse against him. But here was one of them — with a small smile — acknowledging that strategically Ahok’s statement was welcome, because it had enabled the FPI and its sponsors to shift the balance of power inside the state, elevate themselves from street killers to theologians, and alter the cultural climate to boot. And here he was, accepting that the fateful remark was a “slip of the tongue.”

With that, he not only appeared to be conceding that the blasphemy criminal case against Ahok was bogus — as we spoke, Ahok’s lawyers were arguing in court precisely that he had just spoken loosely, intending no offense — but also that the coup movement’s sole big public issue was something that, in private, they did not take seriously.

related to this is the indonesian artist who was recently fired by marvel for placing anti-christian and anti-semitic messages in his work

The numbers 212 and 51 might not mean a lot to most people, but to those closely watching this year's race for Jakarta governor, they represent political turmoil. Indonesian artist Ardian Syaf has been accused of sneaking coded political references into the latest "X-Men Gold" issue after an outcry by fans online.

The codes are references to two contentious points swirling around the Jakarta Governors race. The number 212 represents the December 2 protests in Jakarta, which saw millions hit the streets to demand the resignation of Jakarta's current governor, Basuki Tjahaja Purnama or Ahok, after accusations of blasphemy were leveled against him.

The number 51 references the Quranic verse of Al Maidah 51, which some have tried to use to convince muslim voters to only elect muslim candidates and not the incumbent and christian Ahok.

Those aren't the only coded and somewhat odd references in the issue published last Wednesday. In a scene where the Jewish character Kitty Pryde is making a speech about becoming the new leader of the X-Men, the "Jew" part of "Jewelry" is seen next to her head. A somewhat anti-Semitic panel for a company and franchise that was created by two Jewish people, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

Ardian stated “But Marvel is owned by Disney. When Jews are offended, there is no mercy”.

[ernmark]

I think the met as teens verse is my favorite thing you've written so far! (And I love all your stuff so that's saying something) can you maybe write how murderous mask would have gone down in that verse?

(You guys are lovely, you know that?)

What’s hilarious is that the first Murderous Mask prompt actually predates the Mag betrayal prompt. When I got that one, I just stared at it in puzzlement for a while– because if Juno’s on Brahma, then literally the entirety of Murderous Mask can’t actually happen– Cecil would be dead and the Mask would still be buried in the desert, and besides, there’s no way Peter would have failed to retrieve the Mask if Juno was there helping him out.

Then I got the request for Mag’s betrayal. And then I got some help from my friend Kya about how to make that all work without breaking character (fun fact: the version I sent you guys is the second one I wrote; the first one just didn’t feel right.) 

And just like that, the pieces are in the right position to make MM work again. Sometimes it just requires a little suffering along the way.

Like any of my episode-based fics, I’m gonna jump around to the scenes that are actually different. There’s no need to make you read through the entire episode. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (The Talk) | Part 4 | Part 5

There was only ever one place Juno could have gone after he left Peter. Deep down, he always knew that. Hyperion City is like a black hole that way– no matter how hard you try to break out of its gravity, it always drags you back.

Without Peter to keep him out of its orbit, he lets himself give in.

There are too many memories in his old line of work, and it’s just not the same doing it alone. Instead he settles in as a Private Investigator. Mostly because it calls for his precise skill set and doesn’t require awkward little formalities like a background check and a job history to break into the business. Besides that, there’s a sense of justice alongside all this irony. In a city like this one, there aren’t a lot of people willing to look close enough to tell the scumbags apart from good kids who got a bad shake– kids like him and Peter were. It might as well be him. As for the legitimate thieves, good riddance. If they can be caught by the likes of him, then they didn’t deserve the job in the first place. That’s just a matter of professional pride. 

He forms his own network of contacts and establishes himself in the business, for better or worse. In the case of Croesus Kanagawa, currently dangling out of a glass case in his Uptown mansion, it’s worse. For both of them, judging by the message scrawled in blood on the wall behind him.

You’re next, Juno Steel.

Whoever’s got it out for him, it sure took ‘em long enough.

No sooner does Juno accept the case from Sasha Wire than he hears a new voice talking to Rita out front. Shit, they’ve got good timing at Dark Matters. But while Rita keeps Agent Rex Glass occupied, Juno has other ways to make an escape. He’s halfway out the window when the door opens. He’s debating whether he could stick the landing if he jumps now when the voice behind him makes his thoughts grind to a halt.

“Really, Juno? The window? Did your fear of heights resolve itself while I wasn’t looking, or are you just that determined not to see me?”

Juno’s heart is racing, and not just because he just lost his grip on the windowsill. The two stories between himself and the solid concrete below is suddenly the least of his concerns. 

He climbs back inside, pretending like it’s only the near fall that leaves electricity crackling in his veins. 

There he is, like something out of a dream: Peter Nureyev, willowy and elegant even in the imposing Dark Matters uniform. 

“Agent Glass, right?” Juno asks hoarsely, shutting the window behind him. He won’t take the chance that someone might overhear them. 

“It’s good to see you again.”

The fact that it only takes Juno a few seconds to recover himself is a victory. “Dark Matters? Really?”

Peter glances at the uniform. “Ah. Well, I do admit that the sunglasses are a bit much, but they make a fair focal point.” Honestly, the sunglasses are a good look on him. But then, Juno’s never seen an article of clothing that didn’t look good on him. “Besides, Dark Matters are the ones taking point on this particular investigation.” 

“This one in particular? Are you checking in on me or something?” 

“I happened to be in the neighborhood and your name came up.”

“Did it now?”

“In bright red, as a matter of fact. It’s rather difficult to miss. I thought I’d lend my assistance.” 

It takes a concerted effort to stay annoyed at him. “Enough playing around. Why are you really here?”

He sighs. “Alright. To the chase, then: last night I was working a job in that mobster’s mansion when I was interrupted and had to make a quick escape. When I returned to finish the job, there was a corpse hanging out of my artifact and a threat on your life written on the wall in blood.” 

Well. That’s one mystery solved. “You don’t have to worry, Rex. I’ve got history with the Kanagawas. Half the family wants me dead, and most of their enemies do, too. One of them is probably looking for a scapegoat, that’s all. There’s no way they connected me to you.” 

“It can’t be a coincidence, Juno,” he presses. 

“You’d be surprised how often they happen, actually.” Juno turns away from him to gather supplies. “I mean it, Rex. I haven’t said a word about you to anyone in twenty years. Your secrets are safe with me.” He throws a few laser carts into his pocket and starts for the door. “If we’re done here, I have a murder to solve.”

Instead of letting Juno show him the door, Peter falls into step beside him. “You can’t seriously want to investigate this.”

Of course not. But when has Juno ever wanted to go to Casa Kanagawa? “Croesus being dead makes the whole thing a lot more appealing.” 

“Juno, somebody out there is trying to kill you!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says reflexively. Normally that kind of remark is taken in stride– just another part of the old hardboiled gumshoe persona.

Peter’s face does that thing it does. Like all the concern and worry and indignation crystallizes all at once, and then suddenly it smooths over into a charming mask. It happens in the space of a milisecond; if Juno didn’t know him so well, he couldn’t have caught it. 

“Well, then,” he says pleasantly. “Are you driving, or am I?”

“Snatching the Mask can wait until after I’ve solved my case. It’s evidence, remember?”

“All the more reason for me to come along. The killer might want to cover their tracks.” 

“I’ve got it taken care of. You’re not coming.” 

Peter steps just slightly closer and smiles with all his teeth. “I believe Dark Matters was quite specific about the nature of their contract.” 

Juno meets the grin with a glare. “You’re really going to push this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” He opens the door, still flashing that smile. 

Juno should have known. All these years and Peter’s still the brave knight. What surprises him is that he somehow still qualifies as the distressed damsel. 

“Quick, Rex! Hit me!”

Peter blinks, completely nonplussed. “What?”

The Camera Man is advancing on them. A few more seconds and it’ll start staging its own photos– and nothing grabs headlines quite like blood. 

“You heard me, Rex. Hit me.”Juno gets in his face. “Just do it already. I know you’ve been wanting to ever since you walked into my office.”

He’s half right. There is something Peter has wanted to do since that moment. And so long as an open invitation stands and needs are pressing, he might as well take the opportunity. 

Juno braces himself for a left hook– maybe things have changed in the past twenty years or so, but the Peter he knew always started with a left hook. The impact he feels is a softer, but it still leaves him dizzy.

All these years, and Peter’s lips still feel like silk.

The Cameraman lurches closer to find a better angle, and Juno throws his arms around Peter’s neck, obscuring both their faces behind his sleeves.

“Apologies, Juno,” Peter whispers into Juno’s mouth. “But I’m not about to give you another concussion.” 

“I think I can live with that,” Juno whispers back, which is significantly more dignified than any of the other things that have been lurking in his head. The top two contenders so far are “god I’ve missed this” and “please don’t stop”, neither of which Peter really needs to hear right this minute. 

Peter pushes forward, and Juno follows his lead until his back hits the wall, just a few feet from the door. He gropes blindly at the wall for a few moments, slicing open his finger on the needle under the doorknob, but finally he fumbles it open and pulls them both inside. 

As far as escape plans go, it isn’t half bad. It probably would have been even better if Cecil Kanagawa and an army of Cameramen weren’t waiting for them on the other side.

The case is solved. 

That should count as a win, but it just leaves Juno feeling miserable. It was fun enough while it lasted, but now Cassie’s in prison and Peter’s on his way out the door. 

He should’ve let Sasha stick him on that damn asteroid.

He swirls a glass of scotch in his hands. “If you wait a few days, you can steal the Mask out of the PI registry. Security shouldn’t be too bad once it’s been used for the trial.”

“We don’t have to turn it in, you know,” Peter says. “You can leave Hyperion City behind, and I can leave this job behind. We’ll sell the Mask and live a life of thrills and decadence across the galaxy, always running, never looking back. It could be just like old times again.”

“It sounds nice.” The unspoken “but…” hangs in the air between them. Just like old times again– that’s the problem, isn’t it? When all the sweetness of nostalgia fades, they’ll be right back where they started. And no matter how much Juno wishes he could say he’s changed, he knows better.

“Juno,” Peter starts, soft and grim. It almost hurts to look him in the eyes. “I never had the chance to tell you how sorry I am for the way things turned out.”

Juno shrugs him off. “You couldn’t have known Cassie was gonna push Croesus into that case.”

“I’m not talking about that.” He takes Juno’s hand. “What happened on Brahma. I think I always knew you’d figure it out eventually. But you shouldn’t have had to. You should have heard it from me.” 

He holds Juno’s gaze, earnest and sincere.

But there’s nothing but confusion in Juno’s eyes. “What do you mean, what happened on Brahma?” 

“Wait.” Peter backpedals. “You mean that isn’t why you left?”

“What was I supposed to have figured out?”

“Then why in the world did you leave?”

“Peter.” 

And just like that, Peter’s caught in a trap of his own making. His gaze flicks from one of Juno’s eyes to the other, like he might find an escape there, but he doesn’t.

It would be so easy to lie right now. They both know it, and the potential of it stretches out in the silence between them.

“Mag,” Peter says at last. “The constables didn’t kill him.” Each of the syllables comes out with effort, forced out of his mouth like a rotten tooth. “I did.”

Juno can feel the floor crack under his feet. That can’t be right. It can’t.

This was Mag. Mag. The man who took them both in when they had nowhere else to go. Who bailed them out when they got in trouble and nursed them back to health when they got sick and made sure they knew every minute of every day, even when they fucked up and he was furious with them, that they were loved and wanted. He was everything a parent should have been. Everything Juno had spent his whole life thinking was just some fantasy that Mick told to give the other kids something to believe in, but Mag made it real. For the first time ever, Juno had a real family. Just the three of them, together against the world. Those few years had been the happiest of Juno’s life.

“Why?” Juno asks, trying to remember how to breathe. There’s more to the story. There’s got to be. 

“He lied to us,” Peter says slowly– or is that just the world slowing down around the two of them? Juno doesn’t know anymore. “He knew disabling the Guardian Angel System would bring the whole city down. He was going to kill all those people, and I… I couldn’t let him do it. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to me, and I didn’t know what else to do, so…” 

Juno can still remember the image of Peter afterward, drenched in blood.

He never asked whose blood it was. 

“So I killed him.”

Juno’s mouth is dry. He turns away and grabs the bottle, pouring himself a drink just to avoid looking at Peter. He doesn’t know how else to cope with what he’s hearing.

“I think that’s why he had you on the getaway ship instead of letting you come along,” Peter continues. “You’d only been with us a few years– he knew you’d never go along with it.”

“And you would?”  

“He thought I would. Maybe after all the lies he fed me about my father, he thought it would be personal.”

Juno looks up at that, caught off guard by the little detail. “He lied about that, too?”

Peter smiles, but it’s too grim and pained to be anything more than a rictus. “He never met him. It was all made up.” 

Peter Nureyev, who was born with heroism in his veins, who wore the name of Brahma’s greatest unsung martyr like a badge of honor. When they were kids, he used to tell Juno about his big dreams– there’d be monuments to his father’s memory; he promised that the day they New Kinshasa fell, he’d sneak into the archives himself and write his father’s sacrifice into the history books. It was the core of his identity, almost as much as being a thief. Hell, maybe even more.

And all of it was built on a lie. A story constructed to push Peter into killing thousands of innocent people.

Juno stares at the drink in his hand for a long moment, trying to find sense in the bottom of the glass. If there is, he can’t decipher it.

He offers the drink to Peter; he always was better at codes. Peter downs it in a single long gulp, grimacing as he sets the glass on the desk.

“You never said anything,” Juno says, breaking the silence between them.

“I didn’t want you to know.” He hesitates. “I didn’t want you to remember him that way.” 

“Like you did, you mean?” The pieces are all sliding into place. The change in Peter afterward. The anger and frustration. The way he refused to hear his own name. The ruthlessness that his imaginary father would never have stood for. 

He’s going to need time to process this– really process it. He has no idea how long it’s going to take, or exactly how he’s going to feel about things when it’s done.

In fact, there’s only one thing he knows for sure right now.

“It’s gonna take a while for the Mask to get through the registry,” he says. “Where are you staying until then?”