#my father is profit and I have daddy issues ���️

[bonaesperanza]

Checking out what the housing situation is like in potential postdoc cities and the combination of the Dutch names and the phrase "notorious slumlord" is making me feel like I'm about to enter Six of Crows ❤️

[littlemissstel]

Jukebox Sweetheart- Shiu Kong

Reader is a go-go dancer, swearing, violence, blood, no use of (Y/n), names include; sweetheart, doll, lady. mentions of alcohol and drugs. Reader is confident and bold. not proofread.

heart divider from @bernardsbendystraws cyber divider from @saradika-graphics

The piercing strobe lights did nothing to alleviate the oncoming headache Shiu felt. He sat in a circular booth, Toji and Sukuna by his side as they listened to the club manager's- Hudson- incessant monologue of excuses. The last few months had been prosperous ones for their chain of nightclubs which littered the city. All except one, which had brought an influx of police reports, violence, and drug related incidences, posing a threat to the exclusive status they sought to maintain.

The substances and business that came with this type of nightlife was no secret. It was unavoidable and truthfully the trio could not care less; there were only a few rules: don't get caught, don't create trouble, and pay what you owe.

Clearly there must have been some miscommunication along the way.

By looking around there were no obvious reasons for the lack of income. The club was full to the brim, constant movements of the crowd imitated rouge waves and LED panels that ran in strips from ceiling to floor eliminated any attempt at modesty. The room had merged into one neon blur and Shiu found himself counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Though, there was something that had caught his eye among the chaos. Someone.

You were stood on a heightened platform by the DJ wearing a skimpy excuse of an outfit that would no doubt get you arrested for public indecency anywhere else. Your hips moved in provocative rehearsed movements, matching the beat of whatever obscene song was playing and though the sparkling red tassels of your top and skirt made you the embodiment of an encrusted necklace in the catching light, Shius' eyes could not be moved from yours. He was enamored.

What was it? He didn't know and he didn't mind to find out. It was like you were his own private show as the crowd continued, too engrossed in their own ecstasy. How he reveled in it.

"Gentlemen, please understand-"

"We've heard enough of your bullshit, Hudson so don't give us another reason to get rid of you" Toji seethes, as his hand makes hard contact with the table, leaning in dangerously close.

This was the reason Shiu was here. The mediator. The voice of reason between the two hot-heads. But today he needed a break.

"I suggest you understand were the money for the last two months profit went before-"

"I'm getting more drinks" Shiu announces dismissively and Hudson perks up, seeing this as a chance to diffuse the tension. He silently thanks the stars before bursting out,

"No, please! Let one of my girls do that for you-"

"I'll be fine."

"I insist-"

"No."

And with that, he left, impartial to Hudson's badly disguised plea.

You had never felt so high- well, you had probably never been so high either considering the amount of swirling smoke that lingered in the air- but that was besides the point. Tonight you felt alive. You didn't need this job. With your father being a successful business man and overall coming from a stable background of money you never had to worry about keeping the lights on. You had the best nanny, were sent to the best nursery, primary school, college and now university where you weren't going to leave drowning in debt. Your life was one everyone else dreamed of, never experiencing the materialistic lows...never experiencing the familial highs- not going as far to say you have daddy issues, no, but you had never been particularly close with either of your parents and left school with only superficial relationships.

Maybe that was why you found yourself in these situations. Flirting but never dating, changing personalities depending on who you met, just doing enough to have someone take interest in you was all you ever needed to feel the adrenaline surge through your veins. The attention made you happy and now you were getting all of it.

Getting all of it from him.

Throughout your set you kept your eyes trained on him. A faceless silhouette of a man who seemed ever so intrigued. It wasn't the first time a client paid increased interest in you -that was how you bought the £2000 fur coat you came here in- but it was the first time you paid any interest back, his face becoming visible as he stood up, disappearing into the unidentifiable crowd. Which is why you made your way down from the platform without a second thought.

Hudson would probably scold you later for it but that didn't matter. Supposedly he was in a meeting for the majority of the night anyway, so if none of the other girls let it slip then he wouldn't have to know in the first place.

Waltzing through the room in character you frantically scoped for the man like a predator to its prey until you spotted him- sat on a stool at the bar.

Now what? From the watch on his right hand and his suit you could tell he had money, or at least was good at pretending he did but- who wore a suit to a nightclub? Maybe he was an unfortunate salary man down on his luck but with such a strict dress code, what were the chances of him being let in? Was he here to make a deal with Hudson? You prayed it wasn't the latter, if you messed this up there would be no amount of pleading that could stop you from being fired and as much as you didn't need this job, you loved it. There's no use turning back now. You've already left your post so you might as well have a good reason for it.

Walking up from behind him you dragged your hand across the back of his shoulders as you sat, allowing the tips of your pink patterned nails to press through his blazer into his skin.

"You've been watching me." You say, eyes fluttering in a sultry gaze.

Good God was he handsome. His dark hair was kept short, combed intentionally to the side. He looked up at you with fox-like eyes, you couldn't decided whether they were dark green or light brown but it didn't take much effort to be captivated by them and the charming smile he graced you with.

"I could say the same to you."

You feign a giggle, inching your hand to take the drink in his before continuing,

"You're quite the sight, not everyday a man in a suit comes into a place like this."

He chuckles.

"Sorry for not matching your attire sweetheart, but I'm here for business."

"Good to know."

You knew better than to ask what kind. You smile up at him, eyes staring into his as you take a swing of his drink- the once scorching burn now a mere tingle down your throat.

"Drinking on the job?" he raises an eyebrow at you

"I'm not, I'm entertaining a customer."

"By drinking the customers drink?"

"He didn't have anything to say when i took it, so yes. Unless my generous customer would like to buy me a drink instead?"

Shiu laughs at your boldness. You certainly matched your appearance and if it weren't for the fact he had been drinking, he worried the slight pink flush on his face would give away your salacious affect on him.

"And what will the lady have?" He asks showing the bartender his card.

"whatever this was, please" you say gesturing to the cup.

"How polite"

"I thought i was a lady"

"A lady who i don't yet know the name of"

"That's okay, I think i prefer the ones you've given me so far"

The night progressed with flirty exchanges, the two of you sharing basic information about yourselves until you knew where he grew up- Korea- and he knew about your university life. It was the first time in a while you felt someone had paid genuine interest in you, asking thoughtful questions about the topic and picking up on minor details. If you weren't careful you could easily tell him your life story as you began to unintentionally let your guard down, prior thoughts of rinsing him of his money slipping away from your mind in the midst of your newly found amity. He had remained respectful during your encounter, keeping a fair distance, eyes not wondering once.

It wasn't until the familiar buzzing sound that signaled your next act blared through the speaker had you realised just how long you had spent together.

"Oh shit...Unfortunately I have to leave you, it's my turn back on the platform" you smile tepidly.

"That's a shame, Doll. I enjoyed your company", His deep voice begins as he stands up. So he was tall too? It all seemed too good to be true. "Am I still not allowed to know your name?"

"I don't know yours" you step forward.

"Shiu."

You take another step, reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders and keep balance as you stood on your toes, pressing a soft, prolonged kiss on his defined cheek.

oh bold you were.

"Thank you for the drinks, Shiu"

You turned around, walking off without a second glance.

Shiu stood there, watching as you disappeared out of view with a face of disbelief. Should he of felt used? Maybe, but he couldn't help but want more. Now he had a taste of you he couldn't feel satisfied with just a view from a booth. He wanted to know more. He wanted to ask more. More...more...His head filled with inquisitive ruminations. He wondered if he should've asked for a number, though he could find that through records just like your name, he wanted it to be you who told him.

Wandering back to the booth he was greeted with empty seats, the first major warning sign. He let out a deep sigh, already knowing where the rest of the night was heading.

The music died down as he made it to the back of the building, soon being replaced with a series of grunts and the cracking of knuckles. He opened the door to find blood splattered on the concrete floor, acting as a red carpet to his arrival.

Sukuna sat ontop of Hudson landing blow after blow to his face while Toji sat on top of an empty shipping crate watching intently with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His knuckles where red indicating he was simply taking a break before he decided to join Sukuna again in their little spontaneous activity.

"Where the hell have you been?!" The aforementioned man yells out passing the two men on the floor with a look that could kill.

"I got busy with something. Last time i remembered killing someone was not in our plans for tonight"

"Don't try and tell me about 'our plans for tonight' when you pissed off to fuck knows where, Shiu"

"All I'm saying is we are going to have to cover this up and find a replacement before tomorrow-"

"That's your problem to worry about now, don't you think?", Sukuna pauses his actions to speak, "Compensation for slacking off today. We were the ones who put in the hard work of finding out where the money went after all."

Shiu shakes his head in deep irritation before letting out a sound of agreement. He knew what would happen if he left them alone, this was the price to pay.

It looks like you're getting a new boss.

I had a politics test which stressed me tf out but thank god for the half-term. I should be able to write frequently with the extra time

Also thank you to the people who reblog!! I see and appreciate you deeply <33

Tell me what you think and please feel free to leave any requests/ ideas, my inbox is open x

[mariamariquinha]

Bossa Nova (Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x f!reader) - Ten

Nine | Eleven

Summary: Benny's pov (my boy is so stressed).

Word count: 7.482.

Warnings: Bad words, slightly talks about cop corruption, violence, crime, talks about mental/physical health, mention of use of pills, hospital environment and police work.

Author’s Note: I like my men like how I visualize myself: stressed and in need of a fucking break.

I'm also on AO3 now!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

If someone asked any woman who was involved with Benny at some point in their life about him, there would always be a universal phrase: he's complicated. Not 'complicated' in a 'he has a difficult and unstable life' way, because he did, but in a 'he hasn't known how to be a nice guy for a long time' way. 

Daddy issues. Classic. 

He was committed to the Major Crimes guys, especially Nick, because there was a part of him that hated to disappoint. Aside from ego or personal compensation, Benny saw a lot of his own father in Big Nick, so despite the two being almost the same age, the position of power gave O'Brien a very complex image of a patriarch – flaws and all. When Debbie left, it was clear that Nick would follow the same path as that father, with the difference that he would at least try to spend weekends with the children; Benny wouldn't be able to recognize what the 'head of his family' should be if he had to. 

It had been years since he was just Benicio Ramirez Magalon and not Benicio Ramirez Garcia Magalon, as if he erased every particle of his father from his own history in an arbitrary way, but still having that ghost on his shoulders with O’Brien. 

He didn't think much that night, but he knew it would be natural for him to walk away. It must have been the most genuinely decent thing Benny did for any woman under those circumstances. Maybe it was the fact that you knew how to set limits, that you recognized your weaknesses with an ease that Benny couldn't.

In conclusion, he was disappointed to not find you more resilient than finding out Nick slept with informants, which soon enough he caught himself being a fucking asshole. Maybe that's why, because of this lack of cynicism on your part and the excess of the same feeling on his part, Benny concluded that you were destined for good guys. Some who, at least, didn't make the decisions he made.

****

“And we have a fireplace.”

Yeah, indeed, they had a fireplace – one that was basically turning into dust. You stood there with your arms crossed, letting your mother inspect the apartment and make comments about it. While she and the realtor (a small woman named Eidra) went back to one of the bedrooms, you sat on the small bench left behind on the miniscule living room by the last residents, watching your father look through the window.

When you two shared a glance, the answer was all over the place: a huge and big and extreme and frustrated and disappointed no.

****

Listen, it could always get worse. That was life, you know? And you should know better than to expect that the divorce and the whole Isla stuff would pass by you. Well, it passed through you. With a delay, but still. 

Some of this was your fault, you could admit. Your brother had already advised you to negotiate the sale of the house as soon as the divorce procedures were in progress and you were so catatonic, in a way, that you didn't want to add more to what already seemed too complicated. After months, you found the buyers – good price, you made a profit. 

During Christmas, you ended up tripping over the closed moving boxes and spraining your foot, so on New Year's Eve you didn’t enjoy the trip as much as you could. A bad start to the year, but not the worst thing that happened to you in a long time. 

They were organizing a farewell party for Emma; by March, she would be at DEA headquarters leading their forensic team. You had to act surprised, and politely refused to help with the details ('I'm busy with this moving thing'), which she probably took as a bitter departure. Well, it was what it seemed to be. You didn’t call her off with that, but some part of you was feeling that pit of disgust. There was a murmur about whether or not to invite Major Crimes (even though they never attended that kind of thing), which everyone ended up looking at you for clarification. You didn't know, and that's what you said, accompanied by a modest shrug of the shoulders.

“Send an invitation by email, it's less work if they say no.”

Even because you had time to rethink the unfortunate occasions with O'Brien. You felt offended but you also felt guilty, which was a rather cruel conclusion that Nick was indirectly manipulating you. When you told Gina this, she just gave a genuine shrug and sighed.

“It isn’t like he wasn’t that kind of person before, you know.”

You felt bad – you felt used again. Doubted, discredited. And the fact that you thought you wouldn't care if it happened, that you would be as strong as you had been through the divorce, just showed that you had an ability to lie to yourself. Benny left that night and you knew he had the same realization too; you found yourself believing that the opinion of someone who still followed such strict orders from someone like Nick had no opinion value in your life.

You no longer fit into LASD.

****

“You have insomnia and lack of nutrients. I'll prescribe you some pills and vitamins for both, but I need you to pump the brakes. Burnout has been killing people lately.”

Perhaps, deep down, you knew that this distancing also came with your need to hide that your physical health had worsened. It wasn't that bad, but you had barely been eating and… yeah, you really didn't need another surprise with so much going on.

The doctor pondered something, eyeing the papers and you with a serenity that was closer to reticence. You waited, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, lacking energy to ask anything else. 

“... This seems like a pattern. The lack of sleep, your headaches… Have you considered another type of approach?”

Long short story, no. And he probably knew that too, since you were there and not in a therapist's office, so you saw him lean over the desk and give you one of those scolding looks.

“It’s very normal for people in your profession to have this type of behavior. Considering what has happened in your personal life, I would advise a psychological reevaluation.”

“I’m not depressed.”

But he hadn't hinted at it, or said anything like that out loud, which only made it all make more sense. He sighed in defeat, then signed the recipe and, alongside with it, put a flier about mental health just in case.

The medicines would be an unforeseen additional expense, but it should give you some peace of mind. At least you hoped so. 

****

“Yes.”

“Bad time?” Gina sounded quite confused on the other end of the line, so you frowned at her tone and stuffed the pills into your bag irritably, the breeze not doing much to cheer up your mood. It wasn't even summer anymore, but the day still felt unbearably hot.

“I’m not on my peak, no.”

Gina went quiet for a bit. In the background, you could hear the noise of people coming and going, as if she were in a crowded place. Calmly, you backed up the sidewalk until you were under the awning of the pharmacy you had just left, switching your phone from ear to ear to hear her better. 

“... What was it? Did someone die?” 

“Where are you right now?”

“I am…” You looked over your shoulder, then at the sign of the pharmacy printed right above your head. “Had to run some errands.”

“How far are you from the Good Samaritan?”

“Good Samar-Gina, I was joking about-”

“You won't believe who's here.”

****

He had been quiet since he arrived and it was understandable. Apart from the answers he gave to the police, there was not much interest in having any type of social interaction, which was respected: it was not as if he was or should have been accustomed to the context in which he was placed.

It was different from the other cases they had been following, Z mentioned. Maybe a slip, but no one could be sure because they weren't experts in psychological profiles and the idea of ​​involving the feds was out of the question. For a lot, there was intuition, experiences on the streets, informants… Murph had already checked, there was a strong lead and they were almost there.

No one wanted to mention the damn coincidences that led them to that hospital and, more precisely, the crime scene. Gina, perhaps, had reacted in some way that revealed a truth that no one wanted to verbalize, and Nick asked them to keep an eye on her – Emma’s leaving, until further notice these people would be a bit of a smartass. 

But what would Gina do, anyway? If she could? Would she call you of all people and ask you to pray for your ex's life? 

Still, Benny stood guard at the hospital until Gina finished work and kept an eye on the news, or at least Twitter. If you had known about it, there would already have been news on the internet and, if you had appeared, taken by an immaculate concern towards the tragedy, you would’ve already done so. All in all, the reason why everyone was on their last strings was how you going there could be harmful to the case.

Maybe that was the problem, after all: he didn't know that side of you. What kind of wife you were, what kind of friend you could be. Everything was too casual, limited to observations he made and the things he remembered when you talked. There was no more karaoke, nor costume parties or Cosmopolitans in your cards or a brother to rely on; he knew these things, but none of them were valid at that moment.

So when he saw you peeking down the hall right after Gina had left (when he himself was already determined to get out of there), Benny didn't feel so surprised because he had tested the odds. Cautiously, he stood nearby, watching your diminished, secretive posture pass by the nurses' table and take slow steps to where Theodore was at. He was frustrated, in fact, and maybe a little stressed by everything, because he certainly didn't expect you to make the dumbest decision possible.

You stopped at a safe distance from the room and didn't come any closer. With a bag slung over your shoulder, you gripped the strap tightly, standing still there as you saw what was left of a guy after getting his ass beaten up, perhaps processing things that Benny would never know about. 

The girlfriend appeared: Aileen. She also hesitated when she noticed you, holding a cup of coffee in her hand as she came up from behind. At this point, Benny became more alert, ready to intervene. Interestingly, Henderson was also returning from somewhere, certainly to pick him up, and his louder voice calling your attention caused a beautiful disaster, like an announced tragedy.

You turned around too quickly, right when she was already on your trail, and hit your arm on the coffee cup that seemed hotter than expected. It hurt, of course. You screamed as the liquid burned the skin of your hand, leaning down just in time for one of the nurses to come to your aid. Aileen stood there in confusion as the liquid hit her clothes, and before Benny could take any further steps to take action, the reality that everyone was in a hospital dawned on him and he stopped.

He exchanged a glance with you as one of the nurses took you to the emergency room. 

“What the fuck, is she out of her fucking mind?” Henderson asked eventually, even if they both knew he would apologize later. 

Benny didn't answer him, however; he doubted the answer even though he thought he was aware enough of your behavior. He just watched you go in silence, both fists clenched in anger. 

****

You had your head down, your eyes still wet from the tears from the pain you had felt. The nurse had been delicate and, considering it was relatively calm, was going through the entire process in a well-rehearsed way. The emergency room was still lively, with people going from one side to the other. When you weren't watching her clean the burn, you looked up at the other patients waiting: broken arms, bloody noses.

Last time, you saw Benny with his arms crossed near the curtain that separated your space, even though it was the only one far from the others.

You knew at that moment that you were fucked.

“Boyfriend?” The nurse asked, making you eye her then him rapidly. 

“No,” You two answered in unison, to which you ended up averting your gaze in embarrassment. 

“I'd like to talk to her privately, anyway. If you don't mind,” He pressed a little, not minding the rude tone he was using. 

She eyed him, then you. With a small nod of yours, she sighed in tiredness and rolled her eyes, tidying up the bandage before leaving. 

A silence hung in the air, tense and with a hint of the impatience he was clearly feeling. You ignored this, however, glancing at your injured hand here and there before adjusting yourself better on the stretcher.

“You know, when I was a rookie I used to get quite excited with the prospect of being heard just showing my badge,” He commented, so you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, perhaps the biggest problem in America is men with damaged egos because no one cares about the size of their dicks anymore.” 

“You always seem to have a metaphor for dicks.”

“It’s a talent.”

“As is your ability to put yourself in shitty situations.”

You looked into his face for a few seconds and found an anger that, in general, seemed to be the only thing available to you from him. No more smiles or sympathy: Benny had chosen his side of the story and, really, that was fine. Still, you couldn't help but miss the other version of him as much as you did at that moment.

“I'm not going to ask who told you because that would be a really stupid question,” He took one, two steps closer to the curtain, slightly pushing it to cover the both of you. “Let's be adults and then you tell me why you came.”

Good question. Great question, actually. Why were you there? Why did you make the fucking dumb decision to be the bigger person and show up? And, by all intends, to end up with a coffee burn from… 

Yeah, it wasn’t your prime, you could give him that. 

“He wasn't just my ex husband. And I didn't want to come, but I thought I would be an asshole if I didn’t do anything.”

Benny stared at you for a long moment then; he stood there, still, eyeing you as if he was looking for something – to the point of discomfort. You averted your gaze to the floor. 

“I've read your file, did you know that? As soon as you came in and became the talk of the team, I went to find out who you were,” It made you raise your head to him, taken aback by his sudden change of subject. “First in your class, completed a specialization while still graduating. You're kind of a genius, and honestly, you had every right to be a bit of an asshole to people.”

“... You don’t need to say this,” You said.

“What should I say then?”

“I can work with nothing,” And then you snapped at him, seeing his expression shift from serenity to full annoyance. “We’ve been doing this dance very well over the last few months.” 

When he didn't offer any further comment, sighing in impatience from your stubbornness. 

“What I mean is, you're a fucking smart scientist and everything, but you still insist on being naive like that.”

“I know,” You mumbled in defeat. 

“Do you now?”

In other times, there would be a cunning answer on the tip of your tongue; hell, in other times, you wouldn't even let him or anyone talk to you like that. The point was that you were so tired of putting yourself in this position, of facing things that weren't even your business because you had been in that defensive and combative mode since things started to get out of control.

You sighed and ran your good hand over your face, rubbing away the melancholy expression.

“Do you still like him?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise at his question, watching the way he was so serious about it. 

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean?” 

He shrugged. 

“Means whatever.”

“I don’t like him.”

“It wasn't what it seemed.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You don't know anything about my life to insinuate that kind of thing about me.”

“So answer me without sounding like I'm accusing you of something.”

“Well, then ask questions that don't sound like you're accusing me of something.”

And that seemed to have ended the argument (not the conversation), but Benny didn't move or seem willing to do anything to end the topic. 

“... What?” You asked with impatience. 

“The girl who spill the coffee on you, she-”

“Aileen,” Your interruption came with a huff, while wiggling the fingers of your bad hand. “Yes, she’s a stunning woman my ex cheated me with, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“I’m not trying to ask anything,” Benny frowned. “You're the one on the defensive. I don't want to know the details, I just need to make sure you don't put yourself in the front line of something that’s none of your business.”

“He’s someone I know!”

“Are you serious right now?”

“No,” You used a firm tone, watching him go from stern to doubtful in a beat. “I’m a human being and unfortunately I’m sensitive enough to visit my ex who was beaten by a gang of robbers. Do I wish I had done something to her for what happened? Of course, but unfortunately I also like my job. And my ethics, if that matters.” 

“I just don't want to have to clean up any messes again.”

Deep down, if you really cared, you would’ve been more outraged by what he had said to you. In the end, you just became even more pissed off, so it probably meant that you were mad. The audacity, the… That seemed like the kind of thing that put him closer to what Major Crimes really was.

“... You're quite an asshole, you know that?”

He sighed, looking away and probably reevaluating a route. 

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“Sure. How lucky would I be to endure two public humiliations without having provoked them? I really must be a saint.” 

“Then I’ll be the bitch. I meant exactly what I meant,” You both shared a stare. 

In fact, he was right: you were complicating everything. If you had just done what you meant to do, maybe you wouldn't have acted so immature, but there you were, holding your ground because you were an idiot. This was so frustrating, so stupid. You didn't need to do that, you didn't need to try to be something you weren't. No one ever imposed this type of behavior on you, there was no gun in your head telling you that things should be that way. 

You felt defeated. Your physicality, your face, everything exuded the reflections of a woman well out of orbit. 

“I'm going to tell you something very honest,” He took a few steps closer, searching the eyes you’d been avoiding until you could be looking at each other again. “I want you away from this case. Not because I think you're gonna mess something up, but at this point it's clear that your judgment can prevail over the evidence.” 

It wasn't like he was wrong, so you stayed quiet.

“Nick is going to end up being pretty scathing about what happened here today, so believe me when I say that this time I'm really going to let you off the hook. You'll owe me one.” 

Again, you remained silent, which was a bit surprising since you almost always had something to say. He was there, stern, giving you a well-deserved scolding, pointing a finger in your face, and it was as embarrassing as it was incredibly satisfying. It wasn't like what happened in your kitchen or anything like that, because he was truly mad at you, not the circumstances. Without Nick, Isla, Emma; it was you and him. You were the target.

His eyes were focused on yours, because he wanted to say it in all words. They seemed even darker, more powerful compared to yours, and that made you move in shyness. It was a side of Benny you didn't know yet.

“And please wake up. That girl isn’t half the woman you are,” This shocked you even more, since he hadn't stopped looking visibly irritated while passing his eyes over your body. “Nor half-experienced.”

Okay, well, that was… Well… 

He shouldn’t have that right, did he? Why were you blinking several times and not saying anything then?

You stayed quiet – you didn’t want to embarrass yourself somehow. And with your silence, Benny just nodded while averting his gaze for a beat too long, passing a palm over his mouth with a tense sigh. 

“She's going to discharge you and I want you away from here, understand?” He murmured, both hands placed on the mattress to cage you. 

If he asked (which he clearly wouldn't), you would explain the details of your drunken confession from that first date. Benny was very intense, definitive; that was his version a little beyond what happened in your kitchen, and if you pushed a little harder, you'd notice that his eyes were darker than normal, putting you in an instant trance, whether out of fear, regret or… something else.

His eyes, at that moment when you just didn't say anything, went from your eyes to your eyebrows and then to your nose and mouth, agitated about how to actually look at you. 

“Am I understood?” Benny pressed with a growl. 

You nodded. 

“Yes or no?” 

“Yes.”

“Great.”

He walked away with some hesitation, but opened the curtain to leave with a brutality that made you jump instantly. You let out a heavy breath, bringing your injured and closed hand to your chest in a somewhat unconscious act of protection, but not necessarily because of him. Benny was right; reactive, but right. 

What the fuck were you doing in that place?

****

“Why did you do that?”

Henderson was driving back to the station when he asked. The car remained silent, with no answer for a long time, and Benny continued to stare at what he had written down of what Theodore said.

“She’s a partner. Big Nick would do the same.”

“I don't think so,” Henderson snorted. “You like her.” 

Benny didn't comment on that either, because there wasn’t anything to add. In any case, the lack of a reply said everything his friend needed to know.

****

Okay, Benny did like you a little. Amicably. At first it was purely sexual, and he even thought about bragging to Connors that he had managed to fuck you first, because he was sure he wasn't going to make it past the first date. But even with all the other interesting women he did the same thing with, the indifference you had made it for him. If it was just that, if you had drunk a little less and gone to bed with him that night, that would be fine to you; maybe you even expected the other guys would know about it. 

Then you two kissed and he didn’t mention anything to anyone. You became funnier and prettier and he noticed the things about you. Benny found out he liked the idea of it being a secretive thing, to remember how you sounded, the texture of your skin and the smell of your hair and keep it to himself. You were an irredeemable nerd, but you were rebellious: you clashed with Big Nick, you had a beautiful, huge tattoo on your leg, you smoked marijuana, you messed with other girls.

He enjoyed your closeness, whether as a friend or as a lover. It was advantageous to have you around.

Since what happened at the hospital, Benny thought about apologizing and saying that he was just upset. They were really close to get that guys, there was a lot of pressure from above after the debacle with the DEA, no one was in the thick of the fucking around. He didn't apologize despite wanting to, though, because he knew things didn't feel easy for you either.

Well, he couldn’t be sure of it, if he liked you as if in a crush or just as a person who he got along with. You made him hesitate to make some kind of mistake towards you, so what Benny could say for certain was that he liked you. Just a little.

****

“Do you know anything about this?”

You and your dad were in the kitchen washing the dishes when he asked. His tone was low, almost discreet to be heard only by you and, hopefully, distant enough for your mother to take note of the question. The room was small, very different from your old house, and the walls provided good coverage so that she, who was on the emergency stairs smoking a cigarette, was at an even safer distance.

Still, you peeked out the small window above the sink and could see the smoke rising from the exact place you saw her climbing. 

Earlier, they arrived talking about how the newspapers and Twitter had reported what had happened to Theodore. You did no more than say that Gina brought it up, but you weren't on the case and it was ethically (as well as judicially) wrong for you to get too close. Still, you tried hard to say that you knew he was okay – which your father clearly managed to see as a half-truth.

“... I went to see him at the hospital,” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the dishes in front of you, not daring to find out how he was looking at you. 

“You two talked?”

“No,” You paused. “But I saw Aileen.” 

He didn't say anything; the tap was still on, but the noise of dishes being moved had stopped. You pretended you hadn't noticed, going to the cupboard and putting away the already dry glasses, trying to stay away from the excruciating gaze you felt on the back of your head.

That silence had meaning; your father could go days without bringing up the subject waiting for you to talk about it. Like it or not, you could let him use this strategy, and you would have more time to decide how to talk about it, but your mother knew this habit better than you and, well, there was a reason why you were talking away from her. 

You closed the cabinet and turned around, moving closer to him before leaning the small of your back against the table, defensively crossing your arms. He turned off the tap, dried his hands; the worried expression never left his face.

“I was in the hallway and one of the detectives in charge called me. I turned around without realizing she was behind me, so she accidentally spilled hot coffee on my hand,” You held up your hand wrapped in the bandage.

“So you two didn’t interact? Aside from this?”

“Like in an indian soap opera, yeah,” Your answer made him hiss. “She apologized, I think. I don’t remember a lot.”

Well, it was a lie – one he could catch from a mile away. You remembered each piece of moment you could grab from that mess: the way her eyes widened at the sight of the coffee being spilled on your skin, the way she raised her hands to reach out, the pain, the step back you gave to make sure she wouldn’t get any closer and, specially, the way Benny and Henderson were watching the whole scene. 

The reason why you didn’t go into a spiral of remorse was this fact, that amongst Z or Nick, the ones who were there were the least worse. Gus was nice, polite and Benny was… Benny. And for days you expected for something, for Emma to give you one last penitence or for O’Brien to spill some shit on your face; God knew you deserved it all. It was a bad feeling. You didn't like the idea of ​​feeling embarrassed, the exposure or even your lack of reaction, but more than that, you felt torn by the idea that you hadn't felt as sorry for Theodore as you thought you would.

“It’s just… I’ve been punching myself for even going there in the first place,” You sighed in defeat, your good hand passing all over your face. 

“Maybe we raised you way too well.”

“That’s not entirely true… But not because of you, that is.”

And you knew you shouldn't have said that, at least not in those words, because then he would come with more arguments about how you should let your mother in, about how she wanted to be part of your life and how it would be better to have her as a support – as a woman-to-woman conversation would be more enlightening.

He didn’t even need to point that out, in fact; you already slipped in before he could open his mouth. 

“I think it's better not to.”

“Because she could be too harsh?”

“Because she could be too honest. I love her, dad, I really do, but I had a hell of a moment with a coworker that makes me ashamed to even look at his direction because of it. I…”

I don’t want to disappoint her again. I don’t want to be a burden. 

It was always much easier for your brother when it came to your mother: she welcomed him and they just understood each other. With you it was always a problem. She said you spent a lot of time with your dad, that you must be like this or that, that, honey, Theodore is a great kid but I don't think he'll come back after college. He returned. You got married. You got divorced and, during all the crises, you were also embarrassed to come back with your tail between your legs to say that she was right in a way. You made your brother swear under professional secrecy that he wouldn't tell her anything, but you still contained details just in case.

So no, it was better not to. It would be another shame, another thing that she would look at you with great pity, and you were tired of putting yourself in that position.

“I'm off the case anyway. Gina doesn't report to me, just like she gave the tests to the person on the other shift. There's no risk of me getting closer to Theodore again.”

“But you were looking for something when you went there. Did you find it?”

You stared straight at his eyes for a long, beating moment. 

“... I did.”

“And what was it?”

For a brief second, you could still feel the sensation of seeing Theodore beaten up, the dried blood and lowered eyes. Could see the way he seemed fine, injured but not unstable, able to still be operative, essential to the industry. 

“Relief.”

****

“I know you.”

You didn't expect it to come out so full of doubt, but you expected him to have some memory lapse in the time you had seen him.

Dr. Cillian Byrne was a professor you had at university just before you changed your major. It was in your first year, at the end of the first semester, and with the changes in the curriculum for your audiovisual expertise, you only had the chance to attend, roughly, three or four of his classes. He was a bit young for the position, people said, and when your academic psychopathy caught other people's attention, they told you the same thing. Unlike him, you never went that far. After you graduated, you joined the LASD and managed to pass the evaluation for field CSI, but with so much bureaucracy in the way, you ended up stationed in the laboratory for good.

Looking at him there, it felt like a full circle moment. You didn't connect the dots until that last name took place and you exchanged glances with Emma from afar, who just shook her head lightly as if to say you shouldn’t mention Ballard. 

“I took some classes with you in college,” You mentioned after saying your name, watching his eyebrows raise in recognition. 

“Right, I remember you. The girl who ran to the second boring stuff in CSI.” 

“The second?”

“It's the rule. First come the academics, then the laboratory rats, then the coroners and only then the self-centered field ones.”

Emma was walking towards you when he said that, so when she got closer and saw that the two of you were sharing friendly laughs with each other, she went from confused to pleased in seconds.

“It isn’t that usual to see a successor at a faraway party, but I feel like it’s going well,” She said.

The hotel ballroom was full (exaggeratedly, but fair enough) and judging by the amount of times you saw Dr. Byrne going from group to group with smiles, you could agree that he was breaking the awkwardness of being there under these circumstances. Maybe it was the mood itself. Everyone was well dressed, sipping expensive drinks they could only have on special occasions, laughing at whoever was on duty and taking photos for Facebook; the boring part could wait until the next day.

“I was telling her she’s the first familiar face I've seen here, which is a surprise,” Dr. Byrne lied, so you sipped on your soda to avoid giving that away. 

“... Oh,” Emma frowned, a confused smile fighting for its life to not make her discomfort so evident. “You do know each other, then.”

“He was one of my professors in college.”

“Almost,” He teased, eyes swiping from you to her. “I found out just after two weeks that she fled to the computers.” 

“You seem to have been upset about this,” She was the one teasing now, on the verge of embarrassment to be honest. 

“Well, when you start hearing how much this student who changed majors became one of the bests… It’s hard not to feel at least jealous, right?”

And perhaps Emma and you would talk about this in the future if it hadn't been in that sensitive context, because it was clear that Dr. Byrne had looked into everyone in the department and was perhaps doing background checks as if he were doing his homework. It was the first time in months that you and Emma exchanged a similar look, raising your eyebrows and understanding the situation right away, sharing glances with an inside joke that you hadn't told each other for a long time.

“She’s really great, I have to admit. Hurts me to leave this whole amazing team, to be honest,” She went the easy and polite way, one hand tapping on your arm. “I'm sure you'll get along great on a daily basis.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Who else would give me a better report on what’s up with the infamous Major Crimes’s gang?” 

This time, the discomfort that had been eating away at the edges and that you were able to overcome came to the surface, which made you step back with confusion close to indignation. Dr. Byrne seemed neutral despite this, smiling from ear to ear as he watched Emma unsure of what to say and then you, coming to the inevitable conclusion that he was an idiot.

“... I’m afraid that I’m not the best person to expect that. Perhaps the sheriff?” You gave one more chance to get away with the topic, but he shook his head and insisted, keeping that smile that started to scare you off a little. 

“Why wouldn't it be you? Emma told me that you all have an extensive professional partnership. Not to mention the quality of your reports on Ballard's cases.”

“Oh.”

“I just told him that you could explore more of your expertise with the complex cases they work with,” She rushed to add, the glare on your face now clear as the day.

“I see.”

“But I believe, Dr. Byrne, that I also added that she knows how to limit herself to technical reports, all personalized for each context. You saw it yourself, as she was an expert on a case with one of our most senior detectives.” 

Only then, perhaps added to the way you were no longer so interested in being friendly around the subject, did Dr. Byrne step back and nod, praising your ability to remain professional in the work environment or something. You honestly stopped paying attention, eyes swiping over your drink in hand to avoid any signs of clear embarrassment. 

“I’m really excited to start this new journey with you all. See you on Monday?” He turned to you, giving just enough time for your reaction to snap your head up and force a smile. 

“Of course. Welcome to LASD.”

You two shook hands, then he left. 

But Emma stayed. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Did you also mention your friendship with Walsh?” You couldn’t help the venom on your voice, which made her sigh. “Very professional, Emma. Very professional.”

“He just did the research, okay? I wasn’t intending to share everything about you guys, but he just came by with a fucking folder with all your names on it. Not to mention what the sheriff told me…” 

Not that you were in a position to speculate, much less to sympathize with whatever she had faced, but Emma lost her neutral posture as soon as he walked away, that you lost some of your irritation and eyed at her suspiciously, seeing her looking around and making sure no one would hear.

“I made a list of recommendations, but he didn't even read them and said that Byrne had already been chosen. Nick came up to me and said that-”

“You talked with Nick about it?”

“See how weird things are,” She rolled her eyes. “I think he feels threatened. Byrne is close to the sheriff, this could undermine O’Brien's freedoms.”

“And is it bad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, when you know how someone operates, it can be easy to guess, but I’ve never been around him enough to be sure of anything.”

“So you’re suspicious because of this,” You concluded and she agreed. With a deep breath, you looked around just as she did minutes before, catching sight of Cillian and Lennon talking. 

“He’s… an academic.”

“He’s a brat,” You shook your head, biting your lower lip while still staring at him from afar. “Older men, high IQs... Just the smell of testosterone bothers me.” 

“It's not like my feminine presence made any difference.”

When you looked at her again, surprised by her condescending tone, Emma was sipping her own drink with some embarrassment. You didn't know if you should give any approval, if you even had the right to do that, but you knew that it was just her trying to have a clearer conscience about what happened. Byrne was going to take over, and she admitted she had misgivings about the guy – it was noble, like a last shred of ethics in the middle of what seemed like a specifically planned transition.

“... You made it easier for Walsh to take over the case once and for all, didn't you?” 

Emma kept quiet, which was enough of an answer. Not knowing what to say, you nodded along in that silence, unsure if you were shocked or just… relieved. 

“I can understand your disbelief in Nick's methods. Take it from me, I had some problems because of it,” You conceded, so she raised her eyes at you sheepishly. “It's hypocritical to say that in parting, but I was upset that you did that knowing that Walsh would somehow throw me into the fire.” 

“You better than anyone could understand that it was an inevitable consequence.”

“I do, that’s why I never tried to make it a big deal all these months. God knows we have a lot to be forgiven for, so… Be careful with Mathias, ‘kay? Just as you’re telling me to be careful with Byrne.” 

It was the closest you and she could get to resolving the problems. In the future, perhaps, you could look at it more coldly and understand that it was too dramatic, but it wasn't the time; at the moment, the two of you have reached a consensus for the greater good.

The kind that included men with a lot of midlife crises.

****

Benny had seen the whole scene, from Byrne approaching you, the jokes he made you laugh at and even the moment he made you throw a look of disgust at him. He shouldn't even be there anymore: he had a date that night, one that would probably result in a good fuck and none of Emma's rascality. Still, as he watched you interact with those people, Benny ended up traveling in thought again.

He thought he missed what you had risked before. You were more relaxed, determined; you had no way of deciding what he was because the two of you barely knew each other. The dress you wore there was similar to the one on your first date, but not the same. If he tried, he could still feel your awkward drunken ways or, with more effort, visualize the result of an alcohol-free night like the one you were having at that party.

Deep down, Benny wanted to feel like a good guy because, for some reason, he didn't want to put you in that trophy position like he did or would do with other women. This comforted him; encouraged him. If he got closer again, if you started a relationship again, he was afraid that he would succumb to the boredom of not being able to hold on to that heroic feeling of having spared you from something toxic, that would soon hurt you or he would hurt himself.

“Are you going?” Connors asked as soon as he felt Benny shift beside him. “She’s gonna say some words.”

So he stayed, both feet firmly planted on the floor as long as he could, watching each other as Emma went up on the small improvised stage to test the microphone and you, who remained in the same place, one arm resting on the bar counter as you looked at the scene with a blank expression.

“You know, I never thought I would go through this before I was 60, but I think destiny is something impressive,” Emma said. “Having to say goodbye to you all is painful, but I know that this new phase will be transformative for all of us. In a positive way, that is.”

You passed your hand (the injured one) over your mouth, as if you were hiding a reaction even though no one other than him was paying attention to you.

“Since I'm not much of a talker and since I know I said my private goodbyes to everyone here, I'd like to recite one of the emails I received from my mentor once I got my position at LASD.”

Everyone got quiet. 

“True peace is only truly achieved when we realize that we cannot be all good and, therefore, we will be villains for some and heroes for others. It’s an unfair and cruel measure, but despite being protagonists of our own stories, our moral compass will not always point in the right direction. It’s up to us, as human beings, to embrace our weaknesses and ensure that, within our obligations, we can do our best. Therefore, our sacrifices will soon be seen as choices, which will or will not shape who we’ll be as people.”

It was only for a second, a thousandth of a second, when Emma finished that corny speech and everyone applauded, that Benny looked at you again and saw that you looked back. It shouldn't have meant anything to you, just like it did to him, but he knew that, perhaps, that adventure should’ve ended before it began.

That was the choice you two made.

****

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@seaweeden

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@servenas-inner-fangirl

@mysoulisasunflower

[euphorianyx]

DADDY ISSUES [DAWN] -10-

Pairing: JungKook & Reader Genre: Smut /Intriguing/Violent/Soapy/Fluff/ Angst |+18| Summary: Two hearts that still burned for each other... I was water, he was fire ; together, we turned into haze He wanted my light, I wanted his pain Even if we try to deny, our hearts knew their way Money, glory, power for life, us was all we needed in the end ⟪A/N: Please do not copy or publish my work on other platforms without my permission. Every and each like & reblog are highly appreciated.⟫

⨳ DADDY ISSUES SUNSET -prequel- ⨳ ⨳ DADDY ISSUES DAWN other chapters ⨳ ⨳ DADDY ISSUES PLAYLIST ⨳

“What the heck is going on here?”

JungKook kept watching the car with furrowed eyebrows. His voice showed a bit of confusion, but his face was what got you. He was ice-cold, and you knew whatever going on would not be for good.

“JungKook”

You tried to get an explanation from him. His sort of deep yet velvety voice filled the air of the car.

“Did you see my father before you got here?”

Closing your eyes, a regretful sigh escaped from you.

“Yes ! I mean, I kind of talked back to him but… I… Uhh…”

Losing the way to your words, you began rambling. Much to your surprise, JungKook let out a crazy chuckle.

“Babydoll… You always find a way to amaze me.”

Gasping in utter shock, you could not help mocking his remark.

“I showed up with explosives, and what amazed you was me opposing your father?”

JungKook tilted his head once, like he was making a private joke. Any other human being spoke to him that way would beg to die within minutes. It was only and only you.

“My life… I will end what you started. Right now, something is going on, but I don't know what yet.”

After that remark, you were not able to form a single word. Jungkook has never called you 'my life' before. That was the softest you have heard of him so far. However, the rest of the sentence was vantablack.

The white car beside you sped up and cut through your way with a loud break. His eagle gaze never leaving the man, JungKook reached for the door whilst finishing his sentence.

“Stay in the car.”

Was what you heard before JungKook got out. For some reason, the man got out of the car as well and greeted JungKook. JungKook seemed far from patience. He arched his eyebrows while his eyes were busy tearing the man standing before him.

“Speak.”

Since he was not as tall as JungKook, the man tried his best to take the advantage by fixing his fresh clean suit.

“Mr. Park wants his daughter back. Apologies ahead, but Father Jeon does not want you to get involved any further.”

Watching their interaction closely, you knew… Knew one of the worst scenarios was about to unfold. A smirk spread across JungKook's face. The unhinged smirk you were quite familiar with… And his eyes light up.

“Call my father.”

Smiling, Jae Oh turned around and put his gun under JungKook's chin. Then he dialed the number of his father.

Upon seeing the shiny metal, the panic was evident in your eyes. You were scared of JungKook getting hurt again. However, he seemed as if he was getting ready to play an arcade game.

Father Jeon's deep voice met them through the speakers. JungKook spoke cheerfully.

“Father, I see you are getting old.”

His father's cold voice echoed.

“You are smart enough to know I have no option, son.”

JungKook's tone was almost mocking. Only if his father actually could read.

“Oh you don't father.”

Maybe he could understand how serious it ended.

“But I do.”

Then JungKook directed his words at the man sitting across father Jeon in suit and tie.

“Mr. Park, I guess the drink with my father was profitable.”

The replied with a dry voice, as he shifted on the comfy chair.

“Indeed it was.”

JungKook let out a bone chilling chuckle.

“I hope Jimin loved the chrysants through his goodbye. I did not plan them for Min Ae, but if I must; I will have fresh ones ready for you.”

Mr. Park had no idea what the situation was and thought he must step in to save his daughter. Hearing those words from JungKook was unsettling for him. Mr. Park cleared his throat while he was thinking of how to respond, JungKook cut the line. The phone loosely hung between JungKook's fingers. Right when Jae Oh's hand reached, JungKook let it fall on the ground. Jae Oh shook his head.

“Such a basic move for someone like you, Jeon.”

Then he pointed at the phone with his gun.

“Take it.”

JungKook's lips dropped into a serious pout. He crouched and grabbed a handful of dry foil from the roadside. Back on his feet, JungKook threw the foil at Jae Oh's eyes. Through his blink, JungKook already caught his wrist. Of course, Jae Oh was trained not to give up.

He raised his left leg to kick JungKook. However, the pain was not enough for JungKook to let go. It only bought a couple of seconds to Jae Oh, but it was not enough. JungKook did not go for the gun. He went straight for Jae Oh's chest. Cut out of breath, gun already fell from his hand. JungKook kicked it away, grabbed Jae Oh by his neck and continuously kicked him.

Jae Oh's left brow and lip were bleeding. His ribs were probably injured. With the last immense effort, Jae Oh lifted his head slightly, only for JungKook to grit his teeth and forcefully put his foot on his cheek. Jae Oh was unconscious after all the beating. JungKook grabbed him by his neck, dragged his body till the car. Lifted the heavy body up with both hands and threw Jae Oh in the trunk.

Watching everything, you just knew better to keep the silence. JungKook still had the warm blood on his hands.

“Whatever happens, you will be with me, right?”

JungKook tried to reassure himself. The way his voice softened in the end got through you. You knew something was coming, but you trusted JungKook.

“I will…”

Those words seemed simple yet heavier than any wow. You both knew you could not be apart. The only option left was to face everything together. He took your hand and never let go till the car reached the mansion. As JungKook pulled up by the door, Yugyeom and Johan came running toward you. You had no idea how he managed to put himself together, but Yugyeom was fresh and clean. JungKook asked with such a chilly tone that it kind of spooked you as well.

“Are they still here?”

Yugyeom gave JungKook a sharp nod.

JungKook directed his eyes at Johan, tilted his head to the side of the car.

“Luggage… I am planning a show.”

With no words, Johan made his way to the back of the car. He opened the trunk and dragged the unconscious man out. Seemed a bit surprised, Yugyeom informed JungKook.

“I will get Havoc and Ruffian ready, but…”

His eyes drifted to your side for a brief moment. JungKook kindly put his hands on each side of your arms.

“Babydoll, let's get you upstairs, so you can clean up and rest.”

You did not move.

“Havoc and Ruffian?”

JungKook closed his eyes and sighed.

“My German Shepherds. Now let's go.”

He held his hand out, and you took it kind of unwillingly.

“You have got dogs that I have never seen?!”

JungKook avoided your eyes as he rushed you inside the big mansion.

“Yes because they are wild. Only two people allowed near them.”

You did not need to ask who because you already figured the second person was Yugyeom. Curiosity outweighing your tiredness, you stopped before you stepped on the stairs.

“I want to see them.”

JungKook sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Doll, that will be a process, maybe later.”

You stood on your feet, not taking any step.

“Then tell me what you are going to do.”

JungKook had enough of your little antics. He narrowed his eyes, then you were swept off of your feet. To keep your balance, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you in his arms.

“Why?”

You asked; half smiley, half serious.

“You are being stubborn. We are going to the bedroom.”

JungKook arrived to the large door of the room you have not been in for a while. You shyly opened it, as JungKook did not lose any time to step inside. He slowly put you down, caused you to look up at him with curious eyes.

"I need to change."

Was his reasonable explanation since you both were still covered in dust and dirt. He disappeared into the bathroom. You heard the water running for a few minutes. Jungkook walked out, a towel wrapped around his groins, hanging dangerously low. Smiling at you, JungKook picked a sunray colored shirt and dry seagrass colored trousers. While he was buttoning his shirt, you walked up to help. JungKook's large hand cupped your face as he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, be a good girl… Stay here, clean up and get ready for me.”

Pretending that you did not get him, you took a step to get close again.

“You told me to have some rest.”

JungKook wrapped his arm around your waist as he pressed your bodies together. Giving you a short yet fiery kiss, he whispered in your ear.

“Obviously you don't want to, so I will help you.”

Giving you a playful smirk, he walked out of the door. Within a minute, one of the maids showed up. She greeted you respectfully.

“How would you like your bath, Mrs. Jeon? I can prepare some daisies, melissa and lavender to help you relax. Would you rather some dried sweet basil and sea salt to give you some energy?”

The simple thought of warm water was enough for you to relax, but you still wanted to see what JungKook was planning.

“Basil and sea salt, please.”

Unaware of the chaos that was about to unfold, you let your body soak in the refreshing water.

Meanwhile, JungKook casually walked out of the door to greet the small crowd in the garden by the table.

“Father”

JungKook greeted the old man in fine suit with a devilish spark in his eyes. Then he directed his eyes to Mr. Park. JungKook looked down at the hand he held out, almost mockingly. Ignoring it, JungKook took his place as the entrees were already served.

His eyes laid on Min Ae, who was sitting across him. She cheekily smiled at JungKook as if nothing happened. As if this was an ordinary, peaceful family dinner. Mr. Park, had a bite of his paçanga pastry, then drifted his eyes back to JungKook.

“You know, your father and I have go way back.”

Still wearing his poker face, JungKook answered the old man with gray hair and fine suit.

“I know… Almost to the building of the company.”

The old man smiled back while his hoarse voice filled the air again.

“If it was not for that, tonight would be a lot worse.”

An arrogant smile bloomed on JungKook's lips.

“Oh, it will be a lot worse.”

All present at the table were astonished upon hearing that statement. Even the maids that were serving the supper. They quickened their work and left with no words. Mr. Park was the one that broke the eerie silence.

“I believe no one has such an intention.”

A chilling chuckle from JungKook echoed.

“Mr. Park… The history of our generation is a little different from yours.”

Mr. Park's face hardened as his voice drifted.

“I am aware…but my son already paid the price for that.”

JungKook nodded twice then raised his hand. After his little gesture; YugYeom and the low growl of the dogs made their entrance.

“That is why tonight is just a little warning.”

Yugyeom followed the stone path and arrived to the wooden arbor. JungKook slowly made his way to the same place and removed the cover of Jae Oh. The beaten man squinted his eyes after the bright light hit his eyes.

Upon seeing two dogs with their teeth showing, Jae Oh began begging JungKook for mercy. Although, those calls were in vain. JungKook crouched to reach Havoc and Ruffian. Obediently, dogs just got closer to him. JungKook petted them both a few times. Dogs never looked away from JungKook.

“Are you hungry?”

Havoc let out a small growl, making JungKook smile.

“Of course you are… Go, here is your dinner.”

Under the horrified gaze of the small crowd, Havoc and Ruffian ripped apart the man in front of them. The agonizing screams of Jae Oh went on for a few minutes. Then they died down while the dogs were busy with his remains.

Finally regaining some energy, you stepped out of the tub. Grabbing the towel waiting, you walked out of the bathroom. Since nothing changed in his room, you made your way to the familiar dressing room. Considering JungKook's choice of color, you opted for a knee-length peach-colored dress. Fixing your hair into a ponytail, you felt you looked a bit decent at least.

Making your way to the window, you realized Min Ae was there by the table. Then your eyes shifted to the arbor. You froze as you witnessed the last minute of two dogs' cruel feast. Hand on your mouth, you just backed away from the window. You could feel your stomach started to get sick. You took a deep breath, grabbed a glass of water from the mini bar on the corner. Furthermore, you could not let that scene get to you.

Walking downstairs, you tried your best to keep calm and collected. The shock was still evident in the eyes of everyone by the table. When JungKook saw you, his first instinct was to send the dogs away with Yugyeom. Then he put the cover back on the ground. Regardless of his efforts, you could see the blood on the green leaves around the arbor. JungKook met you through halfway to the table.

“Babydoll, I told you to wait in our room.”

His whisper carried the hints of worry and annoyance. Your stare challenged him, even if you did not intend to.

"You asked me if I would be with you, whatever happens. And I said yes, Jungkook."

His fingers gently held your chin.

“I meant it Y/N…”

Then his voice softened.

“I just did not want you to see that gruesome mess.”

Your fingers slowly reached and caressed his ear before you fixed his dark hair.

“I know… I promised, so I am here for it all.”

After the reassurance, JungKook gave you an accepting nod and a soft smile. He held your hand above his as you walked toward the table. The crowd was still under the effect of not so little show of Jungkook. Mr. Jeon almost fell back on his chair. He uncomfortably loosened his tie. Mr. Park stepped away from the table as he told Min Ae to follow him. Before they could make another move, JungKook called out.

“Leaving already? I think you should stay for the dessert.”

Knowing well they had no chance, Mr. Park gestured his daughter to sit back while he did so. Mr. Park realized JungKook was far worse than he thought of. Not crossing his line was the only thing they could do. JungKook lifted your hand a little higher to place a little kiss. After that, he pulled the chair for you to sit. Silence took over again while maids served apple pies to everyone.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Father.”

JungKook said while he cut the pie in front of him.

“Maybe you should try someone more professional.”

Father Jeon did not even try to say anything back. He just palmed his face out of stress. JungKook changed the cut pie with yours. Noticing Min Ae's eyes on him irked something in you.

“Mr. Park, I was hoping Min Ae to be our guest for a couple of days.”

[peanut-tyrug]

Pink City AU: Hunt for the Boxman

Chapter 3 - Fixing what’s been Broken

Hoonis and Dento team up amongst the discord and havoc of the Pink City to fix what they themselves and others have torn apart.

—

NOTICE: This AU is partially based on my ideas/interpretation. If anything appears to be inaccurate, I apologize. I tried to work with what little I had to make smth. I also took a few artistic liberties.

Another thing: THE PINK CITY AND IT’S CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME!! IT BELONGS TO GOOSEWORX!! Some canon lore for The Pink City has also been implemented in this story. This is just an AU/story I made based on it. If you’d like to check out The Pink City series itself, check it out here!

—

TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains nightmares, threats, arguing, caps, swearing, an apocalypse, screaming, crying, death, stabbing, self hatred, and daddy issues. If you aren’t comfortable with these things, please don’t read this.

It hasn’t been long since the disaster that occurred live on television. Right on Bep’s show…

All she wanted to do was get her head back in the game. Get back into making her show. Forget all that had happened, forget that emotional breakdown with that… nosy little shit show host.

The stress hammers at Bep’s head like a mallet. She can’t help but stress over her show. How people will perceive her… all the disgust, confusion, rage…

It’s an absolute nightmare…

…A literal one.

Bep wakes up with a sudden gasp. She rises up and glances around, and hears her phone going off. She scrambles to her phone and picks it up. She holds the phone in her hand.

Her eyes squint angrily.

Someone’s calling her.

Hoonis is calling her.

…That blasted, dense man… the man the couldn’t help but press on about her deadbeat father. The man that couldn’t shut his trap about the person she hated with every fiber of her being.

The phone eventually stops ringing, going to the lock screen. Bep then goes into her messages and types out a message to Hoonis.

'Leave me alone'

Bep chucks her phone to the edge of her bed and lays back down…

…The nightmares continue to rage on in her head.

—

It’s the next day.

Everyone’s preparing for Bep’s next show. Setting up lights, doing sound checks. Everything must be perfect.

Perfect for her.

Bep storms around the small studio room, checking in on her employees. Although, she’s more uptight than usual.

“Hey!” Bep exclaims, pointing at a camera man. “Do NOT keep that lens cap on! I swear to God, you aren’t going to see the end of my wrath if you do!”

“Yes, ma'am!” The camera man says worriedly, fearing for his life.

Bep then turns to a sound guy, fiddling with the sound board. She storms to him, to which the employee responds by shivering in terror.

Bro slams her hands onto the sound board. “You better not fucking miss your cues, you hear me?” She says in a harsh whisper.

“Yes, Ms. Nemeni, ma'am.” Says the sound guy, his fear overtaking his voice.

Bep then turns to her small tech crew. Only few have actually stayed, including the team’s lead, since they need the money.

Bep struts over to the tech lead, Bendle. He quickly notices her approach.

“Bendle!” Bep begins. “Keep an eye on the tech team, please. We don’t need a light flickering or falling!”

“…Ms. Nemeni?” A tech guy questions. “Why are you always so hard on us?”

Bep averts her gaze to the questioning man. She forgot he was new here.

“…Well, that’s because I NEED TO BE!” Bep exclaims. “If I don’t keep you all in check, WE ALL PLUMMET TO THE GROUND!! We lose our AUDIENCE!! We lose our SOURCE OF PROFIT!! We mess up, we have NOTHING!”

“But why do you yell so much?” The tech guy asks. “I don’t think that’s a good work environment—!”

Bep proceeds to the yank the tech guy to her face. She stares him down, and he stares back, complete horror in his eyes.

“Sometimes I NEED TO BE LOUD!!” Bep exclaims. “I have to be the army general because people like YOU can’t get your work done! I need ALL OF YOU to get to work, RIGHT NOW, or so help me, I WILL TEAR YOU APART LIMB FROM LIMB!!”

Most of the tech team scatters to their positions.

All but one.

One of Bep’s most loyal employees. Practically her right hand man.

Bendle.

He stays in place, not even daring to move. Bep looks to the young man with fury. Bendle firmly glares to his boss.

“…Bendle?” Bep asks. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I did hear you, ma'am.” Says Bendle.

“…Then why aren’t you moving?” Bep asks, voice seething with fury.

“Because I’m tired of the stress you put us through.” Bendle responds.

Bep quickly becomes infuriated and lost for words. As she stammers, trying to make a coherent sentence, Bendle speaks up again.

“You’ve done nothing but stress us out for ages.” Says Bendle. “You never seem to care about our emotional well being.”

Bep tries to retort, stammering, trying to make a good enough argument.

…But as she tries, a thought pops in her head.

“You’re a terrible boss, that’s what you are.” Says Bendle. “And I am so, so, so, tired of putting up with your shit. We all are. We could all leave, but we don’t. We need the money. If you want us to stay as bad as you do, why don’t you try to improve as a person?”

Everyone in the crew stares back at the brave man and his powerless boss. All Bep does is stand there, completely motionless, as a memory of old reappears in her head…

…A terrible memory. One that would make her seethe every time it popped up in her mind…

~~~

'Why not?'

'I don’t want to work on your stupid show!'

'But why? It’s done so well! You could get a lot of money!'

'It’s not what I want to do with my life!'

'But what about what I want for you?'

'What about what I want!? What I want to do with my own life!?'

'I am your father! You do as I ask!'

'But this is my life!'

'What about what I want for you?'

'…You don’t love me.'

'…What?'

'You don’t love me. You don’t care about me… you just wanted me for your stupid show!'

'No! I do love you!'

'Then why are you pressuring me to do something I don’t want to do!?'

'It would be good for you!'

'But what if I don’t want to do it!?'

'Then suck it up!'

'That’s what I mean! YOU DO NOT LOVE ME!!'

~~~

…That same argument… that same talk…

That same talk Bep had with her father…

…Darles…

The memory rings in her head. Reflects back to her...

Suddenly, a loud and thundering rumbling is heard from outside.

The ground begins to shake, causing equipment to topple and fall. The crew catches their equipment just before it hits the ground.

“The hell is that!?” A sound guy exclaims.

As the rumbling continues, loud bangs are heard…

Then, a sound that resembles the aftermath of a bomb slamming into the ground.

The ground vibrates even more, causing the crew to fall forward on their faces.

“EVERYONE!! GO!!!” Bendle exclaims.

As everyone scurries to the exit, banging is heard against the studio’s roof…

Suddenly, dark and inky tendrils protrude through the roof of the studio, quickly cornering the crew.

Bep watches as her crew is swiftly lifted into the air. Thrown against the wall. Chucked around the room.

…And slowly becoming disgustingly distorted.

Losing their logic and reason. Losing their ability to think. Losing their ability to keep a proper form.

Corrupted.

“Come on!” Bendle exclaims, running to Bep. “We gotta go!”

As Bep turns to face Bendle, she watches as Bendle is lifted into the air through the hole in the roof. Bep watched as the young man is carried into the sky.

And Bendle watches as Bep becomes further and further away from his view.

The tendril carrying the young man comes to a halt. Bendle quickly turns his head around.

And comes face to face with something that would forever lurk in his nightmares.

A thin, magenta-suited man with a box for a head, said box being covered in a black ooze with spider-like legs protruding from the sides of the head. Front and center, looking directly into Bendle’s soul, colorful yet petrifying eyes. The types of eyes that haunt you while you sleep.

…Bendle feels as if he could pass out.

Suddenly, the tendril holding the young man up slams him back down into the building.

Bep watches as the man falls back to the floor of her studio, complete horror in her eyes. A crater is created in the floor of the room she stands in. Bendle lays practically unconscious, his body glitched and distorted.

The young man slowly brings an arm up. He then begins to rise to his feet, much to Bep’s horror.

Bendle isn’t who he was anymore. None of her crew were.

They were all like mindless, bugged out zombies. Completely void of whatever proper mental state they had left.

Bendle stares at Bep, his eyes a bright blue aura. His body glitching and distorting beyond what Bep can comprehend.

Bep swiftly turns to the exit and scurries out of the studio. She runs almost aimlessly through the halls and eventually skids to a stop by a closet. She shoves herself into the closet and shuts the door. She sits back against the door and curls up into a ball.

…She begins to sob.

…All of what she had caused her employees… the anger, the fear, the stress…

…She had become the very person she hated…

…Her father… the one who caused her all the stress, the pressure she endured…

She had done the same…

…What had she wrought…?

—

It hasn’t been long since the carnage had started to rain down upon the Pink City.

Hoonis huddles away in his home, within a closet, protecting himself from the danger outside…

He can hear all of it.

All of the screaming, crying, bugged out terror. People getting slammed against buildings. He can feel the quaking hits against the walls outside.

…It’s terrible.

At least he knows Dento’s safe in his home, with his family… very likely mourning Elain.

…Poor Elain…

She had been taken by Darly. Lord knows if she’s still okay, wherever she in sky she was. Wherever in that void she was… maybe she was okay…

…Although, it may not be likely.

Darles— or Darly, is not the man he once was. He’s been bent to Darly’s will. Insane, sick in the head… Hoonis can only imagine what he’s done with her…

…He needs to get her back. Get Darles back… that was what he settled out to do anyway, find Darles and just speak to him. Just that time… but Elain, she and Dento had helped him. He was grateful for them. They were his friends.

…He can’t sit in his closet like this. He had to do something to help his idol and friend, along with the dying city outside.

…He needs to find Dento…

Wherever he lived…

Hoonis goes through his pocket and grabs his phone. He texts Dento.

'Hey. What’s your address?'

…For a bit, nothing.

Then—

'What do you need it for?'

'I want to talk to you. I’ll explain when I get there'

—

Hoonis scrambles through the streets of the Pink City, trying to evade whatever could suddenly decide to chase after him and get to Dento’s home.

Nothing really seems to be on his tail… at least, for a time.

The glitched citizens roaming amongst the carnage quickly take notice of the one unlike them. The small group eventually forming into a mob of people.

Hoonis doesn’t dare look back. He continues to run, not even paying attention to where he’s going.

He needs to hide.

As he turns into another street, he swiftly slides to his right and enters a random building. He shuts the door behind him and rushes deeper into the building.

As he runs, the place quickly becomes familiar…

…Bep’s studio…

…Surely if she doesn’t notice he’s here, he’ll be fine… right?

He rushes down a hall and enters the closest room to his left. He slams the door shut and slams his back to it.

“…The fuck are you doing here?” A voice asks from Hoonis’ left.

Hoonis glances to the voice’s origin. His eyes go wide.

Bep is looking directly up to Hoonis, her eyes watery with tears… what happened to her?

“…H-hey, Bep.” Hoonis says worriedly. “…Sorry. I didn’t know I had—“

“No, no.” Says Bep, softly. “You’re fine… they likely won’t find us here anyway. They don’t have any of their sanity left, it seems.”

“…Are you alright?” Hoonis asks as he sits himself next to Bep, since he knows he’s now allowed in the room.

“…I’m sorry.” Says Bep. “For… breaking out at you the yesterday.”

Hoonis suddenly appears surprised. He never expected to hear her apologize. Before he can speak, Bep continues.

“…It was wrong.” Says Bep. “I only inflected hell upon you… just as I did to everyone else… just like my father…”

“…What do you mean?” Hoonis asks. “I-if you don’t mind my asking, heh.”

Bep quickly appears hesitant…

She can’t keep it away forever. She’s done that long enough.

“…My father, you know him, along with what he did, if you rememeber. He— he didn’t want me to do what I wanted.” Says Bep. “What I wanted to do with my life. He wanted me to continue his show, and I didn’t… I’ve felt for years that he never truly loved me because of that. Despite my efforts to separate myself from him, I think I only became him.”

“…How?” Hoonis asks.

“I-I stress my employees out constantly. I never give them time to relax, take a mental break.” Says Bep. “I’m pushing them beyond their limits, and I was completely blind to it… my father did the same to me, stressed me out to my breaking point… I did the same to my own employees… I’m just as bad as my father…”

Hoonis almost couldn’t fathom what he heard.

…He knew Darles loved his daughter, he said so himself… he never intended this.

“…He never intended you to be upset.” Says Hoonis.

“What?” Bep asks, almost fiercely.

“I-I-I’ve seen him.” Says Hoonis. “He said he loved you with his life— he feels genuine guilt for what he caused you.”

“How do you know that?” Says Bep. “You’re making that up, aren’t you?”

“…He’s up there.” Says Hoonis, pointing upwards.

“I-I don’t understand.” Says Bep.

“In the sky.” Says Hoonis. “He’s stuck up there.”

“What?” Bep asks.

Suddenly, banging is heard. The corrupted have found them.

“SHIT!” Hoonis harshly whispers. “Take my hand!” He whispers as he turns to Bep.

Before Bep can even retort, Hoonis rushes out of the room. He barely escapes the corrupted hoard, just before he can even get hit. He and Bep eventually scurry out of the studio and into the outside world.

“Look up!” Hoonis exclaims, looking back to Bep. “Do you see what I mean now?”

Bep’s eyes go wide as she looks upon the carnage. Buildings are cracked or partially crumbled. Citizens limp around the streets, completely void of an actual mental state. As she gazes upon the city, she spots something in the sky.

…Someone…

The figure is faint, yet close enough to be visible. A man with an eye-covered box on his head, coated in a thick black ooze with spider-like legs sticking from it’s sides. The physique of the man is thin. Familiar…

Darles.

Bep can only pray that he won’t see her.

Suddenly, Hoonis and Bep find themselves in darkness again. Hoonis found an unlocked door to a nearby building. They’re safe now.

The duo quickly sits themselves down, breathing heavily.

“…I-I saw him.” Says Bep. “…What the fuck happened to him…? You know, don’t you?” She asks, turned to Hoonis.

Hoonis hesitates before finally finding what he wants to say. “…He’s a god now.” Says Hoonis.

“…WHAT!?” Bep shouts.

“Shh!” Hoonis hushes. Bep silences, letting Hoonis speak again.

“…He made a deal with these gods to make his show succeed.” Says Hoonis. “They took him, as part of their deal… and now he’s a god.”

Bep quickly appears suddenly confused. How did he even come across them in the first place? What are these gods?

“…He only gets worse…” Says Bep. “…He can’t improve… and if he can’t, then I can’t either…”

Hoonis processes her words… if she feels she’s like him, and he can’t change…

…She won’t change either…

“…Don’t think that way.” Says Hoonis.

“Why?” Bep asks, voice strained. “I’m just like him. I-I’m part of him— his genes are in me… I can’t change, just as he can’t…”

“Both of you can change, I know that.” Says Hoonis. “…Even if I have a terrible father who never loved me, who is a lost cause… whose to say your father can’t change? Why not give him a chance? Give yourself a chance?”

Bep processes Hoonis’ words…

“Why not try to actually change instead of wallowing in your guilt?” Hoonis asks.

…Why not change when you still have the time to do so in your life? Why not work to be better? Why not learn to grow as a person?

Suddenly, Hoonis places a hand on Bep’s shoulder. Bep swiftly turns her head to face the show host, her eyes wide with shock.

“You can do it.” Says Hoonis. “Just try.”

Bep hesitates before placing her hand onto Hoonis’. She doesn’t say anything, she only nods… she will try. She wants to try. She can only become a better person if she’s willing to try.

…Not only can she change… Darles can change…

The only way to know was to see him again… if she got to truly see his guilt… she wouldn’t believe it unless she actually saw it before her. To start her change, she can actually be less judgmental. Unlike Hoonis’ father… maybe her’s can change.

…Although, she appears hesitant to believe it. All that had happened in the past stays with her. All that she had done stays with her. Hoonis notices her hesitancy as she looks down to the ground.

“…I know that your hesitant...” Says Hoonis. “But I know you’ll see change in him, you’ll see change in yourself too. I promise.”

Bep doesn’t respond, appearing uncertain. Hoonis quietly accepts it and pats her shoulder… he knows she’ll see it. He knows so… he then gets to his feet and rushes out of the building and back into the city.

…Bep is conflicted… Can she change? Can Darles change…?

…All she can do is wait… All she can do is try. Instead of wallowing in your sorrows… she can’t sit here in guilt forever, right? …Just be less stubborn for a second. You can start your change there.

…Yes, she can change. She wants to change.

She just has to wait and see if he wants that change too.

As Bep sits, she hears a sudden banging on the door leading inside the building… along with the sound of bugging static…

—

Dento sits in his home, on the couch, moping quietly. Danina sits next to him, giving him comfort. Despite the assistance from his sister, Dento can’t help but feel like garbage.

If only he had known Elain would do that to herself, act ignorant toward her pain… he should’ve known… if she had known… this wouldn’t have happened.

If both of them knew…

“Oh, dear!” Says Dento’s mother, who is pacing around the living room. “Oh, where is your father!? I called him, he hasn’t come home—!”

“Mom!” Danina exclaims, cutting her mother off. “He’ll be home, I’m sure of it.”

“Who knows what danger’s out there, Danina?” Says the mother. “He could’ve gotten shot, or beat up, or—!”

Suddenly, someone knocks on the door.

“See?” Says Danina. “He’s home. You can shut up now.”

The mother seems to ignore Danina’s remark as she hurries to the front door and unlocks it. Suddenly, someone no one, except Dento, expected to see.

Hoonis slams the door open, causing the mother to get smacked onto the wall. “Where’s Dento!?” Hoonis exclaims.

“Where’d you come from!?” Danina questions as Dento swiftly moves his head to face the show host.

Hoonis closes the door behind him and notices Dento’s mother behind it. He gasps a bit as the mother recovers, completely fine yet dazed. “Sorry, ma'am!” He says.

“…Y-you’re alright, sir.” Says the mother with a slight chuckle.

Hoonis’ eyes quickly notice Dento sitting on the couch next to his sister. He rushes over to the Bounty Hunter, who jumps back in fright.

“Dento!” Hoonis says in a hurry. “We gotta talk, come on!”

“Hold it!” Says Danina, putting a hand in front of Dento as if to protect him. “What do you need him for?”

“You suddenly barged into our home without a purpose to be here.” Says the mother.

Hoonis turns to the mother. “I need to speak with Dento, miss.” He says. “It’s an emergency!”

“A-about what?” The mother asks.

“…I-it’s a lot, I’m sorry—!” Hoonis begins, before being swiftly cut off.

“You’re sending him back out there, aren’t you!?” Danina exclaims. “You’re crazy if you think he’s going out there, it’s a war zone outside!”

“I know, but I need him for this!” Says Hoonis. “It’s for a friend of his!”

“Wha— oh, her?” Danina asks, knowing who Hoonis’ referring to. Dento quickly notices who he’s talking about as well.

Elain.

“Yes!” Says Hoonis. “I need his help to get Elain back!”

“He’s mourning right now.” Says Danina. “I don’t think he’d—!”

Suddenly, Dento hops off the couch and walks up to Hoonis. He looks up to the show host with a stern expression. He wants to help, even if he’s in mourning.

Elain is his friend. Even if she hurt him, he knows she didn’t mean it… they can speak about it later. Learn to improve…

“Are you sure?” Danina asks.

Dento locks eyes with Danina and nods.

“It’s dangerous out there, hun.” Says the mother to Dento. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Dento looks to his mother and shakes his head. He lowers his hands from the top of his body to the bottom, displaying what he was wearing: Bounty Hunting gear. He’s a Bounty Hunter. He’s seen a lot of terrible things in his life. If he can handle taking down a bounty, then he can handle this.

“…You have faced a lot in your life.” Says the mother. “M-maybe I should let you go.”

If Dento had a mouth, he’d have the biggest smile on his face. He slowly nods to his mother. He rushes to his mother and hugs her.

“…Oh, my little boy.” Says the mother. “Your father would be applauding you right now.” She picks Dento up into her arms and hugs him back.

Danina then gets up from the couch and head to her family. She faces Dento. “You better come back alive, you hear?” She asks.

Dento looks to Danina and nods. He wraps an arm around her, giving her a side hug.

Hoonis looks at the scene tenderly… he can only wish he and Bep’s families had that bond… even if his father can’t change, Darles can. He can see it in him.

They just need to find a way to get him back.

Dento separates from his family and the mother sets him down. He rushes over to Hoonis with a confident look.

“Are you ready, friend?” Hoonis asks Dento.

Dento nods confidently. He’s ready.

Hoonis nods back, then looks to Dento’s family. “I’ll be sure to bring him back. He’ll make sure of that too.” He says. Dento nods in response to Hoonis.

“Just be careful.” Says the mother. “Please.”

“We will.” Says Hoonis. He then turns to the door and points at it triumphantly. “To the city!”

Hoonis and Dento rush to the door and swiftly exit the house and rush into the city. Danina and Dento’s mother wave them goodbye as the rush out of the door.

“We love you, hun!” Say the mother.

“Don’t get yourself killed!” Says Danina.

—

Hoonis and Dento scurry behind buildings and through alleys, trying as best as they to avoid any of the mindless civilians roaming the streets. None of them seem to notice they’re there, walking in straight lines like NPCs, completely lifeless and without their free will.

As Hoonis and Dento run though, they slow down and come to a stop, right behind a vacant building, as if realizing something.

Hoonis turns to Dento. He leans down to the Bounty Hunter’s level and whispers. “…What are we gonna do?”

…Dento eventually shrugs, unfortunately uncertain… neither of them thought far ahead. Just how were they going to take down Darly and end this carnage?

Suddenly, two floating hands appear behind the show host and Bounty Hunter. The hands swiftly grab their backs and lift to the air. The duo then gets pulled away from their spot at a tremendous speed, they can barely process what’s happening to them as they suddenly enter a forest.

The hands quickly come to a halt, causing the duo to jerk forward slightly. The hands slowly lower the two to the ground, back on their legs, only for them to immediately fall to their bottoms. As they recover, the hands retract, and a slight rustle is heard from the bushes in front of them.

From the bushes, an old companion appears.

Hoonis and Dento see Vondu exiting the small pile of shrubs, another familiar person in a third hand’s grip.

The librarian.

“You! It’s you!” Hoonis exclaims, pointing to the Bounty Hunter and cult leader. Dento only stares, not looking shocked, although he is.

Vondu plops the librarian down to ground, although not as gently as Hoonis and Dento were placed. The librarian thuds to ground with a grunt. His gaze shifts to the show host and Bounty Hunter.

Suddenly, breaking the slightly uneasy air, Dento’s phone vibrates. He takes out his phone and spots a text from Vondu.

'He can tell you everything you need' One text reads.

Another text suddenly comes in. 'I heard you from here. I know you want this carnage gone'

Vondu then gazes to the librarian, his look demanding. He needs the cult leader to speak.

The librarian appears hesitant, not wanting to speak of the secrets of the Elders. He turns to Vondu, wanting to retort against him, before Vondu swiftly pulls back his coat, revealing his mighty gun artillery underneath.

The librarian shrieks. “Fine, pest!” He says. “…I shall speak of true word.”

The librarian turns to Hoonis and Dento, who await an answer. He steps to the duo, pulling out a ritual knife from inside his robe.

The librarian holds the knife before Hoonis and Dento. “Pierce the leech that sits on the showman’s head, and the world will be cleansed of this carnage.” He says.

Dento gradually takes the blade in his hands. He stuffs it deep into the pockets of his Bounty Hunting gear.

Hoonis turns to the librarian, appearing grateful. “Thank you.”

The librarian doesn’t seem to respond. He’s not happy that he had to share any of that. He’d rather live to preach of his gods than be dead.

Vondu then swiftly swipes the librarian in a jar… he’s a bounty. He averts his ominous gaze from the jar to Dento and Hoonis, who stare back.

“…T-thank you, sir.” Says Hoonis. Dento nods, also saying thank you.

Vondu continues to stare before ominously creeping back into the shrubs. Hoonis and Dento slowly back away before Hoonis suddenly dips the scene, sprinting away. Dento quickly follows.

As they run, they spot the faint figure of Darly hovering over the Pink City’s center, the world appearing slightly distorted and apocalyptic, the large gaping hole in the sky aiding the terrified feeling within them.

—

Dento and Hoonis stay hidden behind a building, away from the pedestrians. They peer over to the street, not seeing anyone, but the carnage being most apparent.

“…We still don’t have a plan.” Says Hoonis.

How were they going to get to Darly? It wouldn’t be easy to get to him, since he’s so high up… what would they do?

Suddenly, Dento looks to Hoonis with a stern gaze. He places the knife in front of the show host and swiftly bolts away.

Directly into the street.

Hoonis peers over the building with a gasp. “No! wait!” He exclaims to Dento. His plea falls on deaf nonexistent ears as he watches Dento bolt into the street.

As Hoonis desperately watches Dento bolt away, he feels something tap his shoulder. He turns and yelps at the sight of Vondu suddenly appearing behind him.

“You!” Says Hoonis. “What are you doing here, friend?”

Vondu points forward, and then glances to Hoonis, asking what he was looking out to the street for.

“…Dento left.” Says Hoonis. “He’s entrusted me with the dagger… I don’t know if I can—!”

Vondu places a hand on Hoonis’ shoulder, as if to console him.

Hoonis sighs. “…You’re right.” He says. “I need to do this. That isn’t Darles… I will do it! I have to!” He says as he turns to Vondu with confidence in his eyes.

Vondu nods. He then averts his gaze to the street ahead. He steps to the alley’s edge and peers over the building to the street. Hoonis huddles just behind him as watched Vondu and waits for him to act.

Vondu then points upward toward the city’s center, having spotted Darly a decent distance ahead.

“…What about Darles?” Hoonis asks.

Vondu looks back to Hoonis and points at the dagger, then points back to Darly.

“How am I going to get there?” Hoonis asks.

Suddenly and swiftly, Vondu picks Hoonis up and holds him in the air, as if preparing to chuck him to Darly.

—

Dento’s been running for awhile. His legs hurt, but he’s willing to do this… if Darly has Elain, then wouldn’t that make Darly want Dento too? If he wanted her so bad, and since he seemed to know a lot about her, he’d know Dento is Elain’s crime fighting buddy.

Dento runs through the street a bit, before stopping and coming to a halt. He turns a heel and stares upward, directly up to Darly.

…He’s offering himself up as a sacrifice.

Darly is so high up, Dento can barely see him… yet he can feel those petrifying eyes staring down at him…

Then, something pushes Dento down to the floor. He can barely process what’s happening as he slams onto the road… Dento’s eyes then come upon a horrifying sight.

Elain.

Elain remains on top of her former partner in justice, keeping him pinned to the ground. She then picks Dento up by the arms, letting him hang in the air. Dento only stares in shock and disbelief, looking deep into Elain’s dead blue eyes.

…What had happened to her?

“Well, well, well!” Says a voice from above. An awfully familiar one.

Darly.

Dento looks over Elain’s shoulder to see Darly looking down to the ground, looking upon his partner and her former friend. “Look at who we have here!” He says. “The puppet’s little partner? Coming to be almighty and safe his friend? Delightful!”

There is then a suspenseful, long pause…

“DESTROY THE PEST!!” Darly suddenly shouts. “BEAT HIM UP!!”

Suddenly and swiftly, Elain begins punching her former partner across the face. Dento can barely avoid Elain’s attacks as she swiftly chucks him into the air and kicks away with a leap.

Dento skids to the ground, his back grinding against the road. He slowly picks himself up to see Elain quickly approaching him. He swiftly pulls a gun out from his side… but hesitates.

He’s never had to shoot someone such as Elain. He didn’t like the thought of it.

She may have hurt him, and was still hurting him now, but he knows she doesn’t want any of this… she never did…

Before Dento can even move again, Elain throws him into the air once more. While Dento falls through the air at the absurd high altitude he had been thrown to, Elain mercilessly begins to smack and slap him around like some kind of toy. As the two approach the ground, Elain holds onto to the barely conscious Dento, allowing him to fall back to the ground first.

Elain holds Dento down to the ground. They lock eyes again as Dento hears an evil maniacal laugh approaching them. Dento turns his head slightly to spot Darles slowly descending to them.

��Pathetic!” Says Darly. “You couldn’t even lay a scratch on her! And I thought you were good at beating people up! Ha!”

Darly then goes into another round of awful laughter. As Darly laughs, it descends into an odd shriek.

As Dento stares upon Darly, he waits for Hoonis to strike…

Nothing.

…Until he suddenly sees the show host slam onto Darly’s back, the dagger in his hand.

“What in the FUCK!?” Darly shouts. “GET OFF OF ME!!” He exclaims as he struggles to get Hoonis off of his back.

“I’m doing this for you, Darles!” Hoonis says in an overly dramatic tone. He holds the dagger just above Darly’s head, but he appears to be shrouded in anxiety…

He just can’t do it. Not to Darles.

A tendril then yanks Hoonis of Darly’s back, causing the dagger to almost fall out of his hand. Just as he clings onto it’s handle, another tendril yanks the dagger from Hoonis’ hand and brings it to Darly to inspect.

Darly inspects the dagger in a cartoonish manner, rubbing his chin with his hand. He then turns to Hoonis. “Ah!” He says. “Publicly executing me, I see? How futile!”

“Why can’t you just stop this?” Hoonis asks, a terrible tinge of desperation in his voice.

“Unlike you, I’m not letting my feelings get in the way of what I need to do!” Says Darly. “That ungrateful man must see what his gift can bring onto himself! You are only a hindrance in what he needs to understand what a TRUE celebrity is!”

Darly then turns to the tendril wielding the dagger— he notices it has suddenly disappeared. His eyes glance around, wondering who could’ve taken it.

Suddenly, a large entourage of bullets soar through the area, causing Darly and Elain to retreat, Elain taking Dento with her as she hovers into the air and stops beside Darly. As Hoonis is brought into the air, the tendril he’s in gets shot at and eventually disappears, causing Hoonis to fall to the ground. Hoonis lifts his head, spotting a quickly approaching figure.

Hoonis sees Vondu rushing toward him, his artillery of fire arms revealed. The guns continue to shoot, as if they have unlimited ammunition. In one of his floating hands is the dagger. He had taken it when no one was looking. He stuffs the hand holding the dagger in his coat.

Vondu stops in front of Hoonis and glares at him, angry that Hoonis didn’t do his job. His eyes are like daggers staring directly into Hoonis’ soul, piercing his very spirit like a red hot spear.

Hoonis flinches. “I just couldn’t!” Hoonis says desperately. “I’m sorry!”

Suddenly, pedestrians begin flooding the streets, racing for the sane people standing in the road. Vondu begins to fire his artillery aimlessly at the hoard. All of them trip and fall as the bullets pierce their skin, only making holes with no blood seeping from them.

Hoonis stays huddled behind Vondu, not certain of where to go. Out of nowhere, a tendril grabs Hoonis by the waist and pulls him up to Darly.

“Three little lackeys in one day?” Darly asks himself. “What a show!”

On the ground, Vondu continues to shoot at the pedestrians. Most of them have been taken down and lay on the ground unconscious. With a few more shots, the city goes dead quiet. The zombies remain on the ground while everyone else stays entirely silent…

…Until the sound of another hoard is heard.

Vondu swiftly turns his head around. He spots a few bugged out office workers chasing after an unarmed woman. As he watches, and before he can swiftly react, he suddenly gets pulled into the air by a tendril. As he gets pulled away, the dagger falls out of his coat.

“You’re too slow there, pal!” Says Darly. “There’s nothing you can do! This world is MINE!! And MINE to own! …Now, where is that dagger?”

Tendrils then begin to shake Vondu, causing various random items to fall out of his coat.

…All but the dagger.

Down at the ground, Bep continues to run from the workers. She had been running from them for who knows how long, but she still tried to run away from them.

As she runs, she spots a dagger sitting in the road. She bolts to it and swiftly grabs it, holding the weapon triumphantly in her hand. She rushes to the zombies and begins to ruthlessly stab them until they fall unconscious.

“Where is that dagger!?” Darly shouts into the air.

Bep turns. Her eyes quickly face the demented man hovering above her.

Darly’s eyes swiftly glance down to the woman on the ground. He spots the dagger sitting in the woman’s hand.

Darly wants to attack… and yet, he doesn’t… he only stares at the woman. Not with any anger, no… he stares on with regret.

…He could never hurt her… not again. He had yet to attack her all this time, and he wasn’t doing so now.

His feelings are getting the better of him.

“No!” Darly suddenly shouts. “Let all your MORTAL compassion die down! You do not need it! WE NEED THAT DAGGER!!”

Suddenly, tendrils shoot from the sky hole and launch forward to Bep. She barely avoids them and begins to run… until the tendrils halt.

Bep continues to run, not trusting the tendrils sudden stop she sees as she turns back. She faces forward, running forward.

As the sane trio in Darly’s grasp watch Bep scurry, floating hands from within Vondu’s coat hurry toward the woman and pick her up. The hands carry Bep away for moment, out of sight from Darly as he struggles with his head.

Bro is swiftly hovered over the Pink City and swooped over to a safe distance behind Darly, before halting. A hand taps the dazed Bep’s shoulder. Bep turns to Vondu, the source of the hand. Vondu points to the dagger, then to Darly’s head.

Go for the head.

Bep, appearing slightly confused but determined, nods. Bep is slowly lowered to Darly. Once she’s there, the hands let go of the woman, allowing her to plop onto the demented man’s back.

Darly suddenly shrieks and hovers away from his captors, trying to get Bep off of him. Bep can barely hold onto Darly, but she tries to keep herself clung to him.

“GET OFF OF ME!!” Darly shouts. “HE DOES NOT NEED YOU!!”

As Darly says that, Bep becomes uncertain again.

She could totally jump off and end this fight now…

“…Tell me you love me, damn you.” Bep says desperately. “Show me that you can change… please.”

…Darly then goes quiet… before suddenly speaking again.

“…I loved you with my life, Bep.” Says Darly. “I didn’t want this, I did it to myself… and I fucking hate myself for it… please, understand me, when I say that I love you with all my heart… you are my daughter, and I love you.”

…Bep only stares upon the back of Darly’s head. She notices that Darly is beginning to slow and hover back down to the ground.

“I wouldn’t be letting you shank me in the head right now if I wasn’t willing to change for the better.” Says Darly. “We can end this hell, and start over. Right here, right now.”

Bep continues to stare…

If she wants to change, she has to prove it. Take his word… she knows he wouldn’t be saying any of this if he didn’t truly care.

her expression goes stern. She slowly lifts the dagger…

…Then she strikes.

A hard blow directly to the back of the parasite’s head. Darly shrieks with gut wrenching agony… the city then begins to distort and bug out. Colors and unknown sounds fill the Pink City grounds as the world practically falls apart…

…Then…

…Nothing but darkness.

Horrendously quiet, deafening silence…

…And then… light.

Everything in the Pink City is quiet, practically dead, but it isn’t. Everyone that was once a dead brained zombie lay in the city’s center, so do the saviors of the city and the mad man. Everything is quiet…

Until everyone slowly begins waking up…

Everyone glances around. It’s like the entire universe suddenly reset… whatever god or legion may have allowed this change, they are eternally grateful for it.

As everyone wakes up, Darles slowly rises to his feet, the parasite no longer clinging to his head… his deal was broken, and the damage it caused was undone… he could actually change, even when he never thought he could… he can now.

Everyone in the city, including the idol hunters and Vondu, look upon the scene.

As Dento stares, he has a swift realization… he turns his head…

Elain stands directly next to him… Elain slowly processes the eyes looking to her, but she slowly sets her eyes back down, appearing ashamed.

…This shame stays, until Elain feels something cling to her side. She looks down to see Dento tightly hugging her leg, being too short to reach any higher. Elain only stares at the sight, appearing to be caught off guard by the sudden act… she wasn’t expecting this at all.

She expected he’d be upset with her, not even daring to look her in the eye, but he isn’t.

All Dento could focus on in that moment was his closest friend being alright. He could care less about what had happened, what they both caused.

That was in the past now. And they were going to use the future to improve. Change for the better.

Darles, in the crowd of citizens just coming to, stands in almost complete disbelief… it was done… he could actually try and live his life. A second chance…

“Darles!?” A voice shouts from the crowd. “Oh, golly, where’d you go!?”

Darles quickly recognizes the high pitched sound. His eyes dart around, trying to spot the voice’s source.

“…T-Thlouretta?” Darles exclaims softly into the crowd.

Suddenly, Thlouretta pops out from the crowd, appearing panicked. Her eyes glance around, until they halt onto the tall suited man in the middle of the crowd… a smile creeps up on Thlouretta’s face.

“…Darles?” Thlouretta asks in disbelief. “Is that you?”

“…I-I’m all that’s here now.” Says Darles.

Thlouretta, still smiling, slowly walks over to her old friend. As she stops, Darles gets down on one knee to be close to her height.

“…I missed you so much.” Thlouretta says softly.

“I did too.” Says Darles. “…I’m so sorry I left… but now that’s behind us. I can actually live again—!”

“Dad!?” Another voice shouts. Darles and Thlouretta look back to the crowd as Bep races through the citizens, marching directly towards her father. Bep gives Darles a stern look as she approaches him. Thlouretta steps to the side to give them so room.

Bep’s expression the softens. She’s almost in disbelief at what she’s seeing… her own father, actually willing to change. Bep and Darles exchange the same soft but awkward look.

“…I’m sorry, my daughter.” Says Darles. “I did you wrong, and I didn’t know… what I did was stupid… I can’t change what I did, but… I can at least change now, right?”

“…Yeah.” Says Bep, voice cracking slightly. “You can… so can I.”

The crowd softly gazes upon the the three in the center as Bep and Darles tenderly look to one another before Bep slowly brings out her arms, appearing hesitant. Darles never liked physical contact, and she knew that.

To Bep’s surprise, Darles tightly clings to his daughter in a hug. Bep gradually wraps her arms around Darles. Everyone begins to gush at the sight, including the idol hunters. Vondu though still appears stern, as usual.

Hoonis would love to ask to speak with Darles, but he believes he should give him time… he may not even want to be in showbiz anymore.

That doesn’t mean he still can’t speak with the showman… maybe, with time, he could befriend him.

—

It’s been a few days since the apocalypse had happened.

The Pink City has gone back to its regular cycle, for the most part. Some still appear traumatized by the attack, but with time, they will improve. A bunch of news reports had come out on the situation and it’s causes. Some didn’t pay attention to them, not wanting to think about the treacherous day.

Elain and Dento sit in their apartment’s kitchen, quietly eating the breakfast Dento prepared. Dento turns to Elain, who appears to look ashamed.

Suddenly, Elain’s phone goes off. A message from Dento.

'You ok?'

'No'

'Whats wrong? You can tell me'

'I feel horrible'

'Why?'

'All that crap I did to you. I hurt you'

'Yea?'

‘Why do you still keep me around after all I’ve done to to you?'

'Bc you are my friend Elain. I care abt you'

‘Why? I hurt you?'

'Bc you’re my friend'

'Friends care for each other. I know you care abt me. You didn’t mean to hurt me'

'You were just being stupid. I was too, but ppl do stupid shit all the time'

'We just have to learn how to improve'

'You get me?'

Elain appears hesitant to respond. Dento gives Elain and stern look and rises from his seat. He walks to Elain and jumps into her lap. He rightly hugs her. Elain is swiftly taken aback.

Dento picks up his phone again.

'You weren’t telling me things you should’ve'

'And I wasn’t paying enough attention to you'

'We both did smth dumb, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change'

'We just gotta learn from what we did. I know we can do that. Work together to change, just as we always have'

Elain looks to the messages from Dento on her screen as Dento remains in her lap. Dento turns to face Elain, giving her a look that says 'You get me?'.

Elain turns to Dento, still appearing hesitant, before Dento gently hugs her… a realization then comes to her. It all finally hits her.

She can change. She will change.

Change for the better.

…Elain gently returns the hug, promising to Dento that she will change for the better. And she imagines Dento promised the exact same thing.

They make a great team.

—

After preparing for the day, Hoonis exits his apartment, heading to Bep’s studio. She was quickly beginning to get her show back together after the tender meeting with her father, and she was having her first new airing that morning.

As Hoonis steps away from his small apartment complex, he pulls out his phone and goes into his contacts. As he finds Bep’s contact, he gazes upon the contact for his father.

…Unfortunately, not everyone can change. Not everyone wants to.

Hoonis swiftly deletes the contact from his phone. He doesn’t need that sour, unchangeable man in his phone anymore.

Hoonis presses on Bep’s contact, and his phone begins to ring. It takes a moment, but Bep eventually picks up.

“Hello, Bep!” Says Hoonis. “Are you ready?”

“Almost.” Says Bep from the other line. “Give me a moment.”

“Alright, see you in a bit!” Says Hoonis.

“You too.” Says Bep.

Hoonis hangs up and proudly struts down the street to Bep’s studio.

—

Bep sits in a small dressing room, prettying herself up for her first airing in days. All while she prepares herself, Bendle stands outside, directing the crew.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the dressing room door.

“Who’s there?” Bep asks her from seat.

The door slowly opens, allowing Bendle to peek through the door. “Someone wants to see you, Ms. Nemeni.” He says. Bendle steps aside and lets the guest in.

Darles steps from beside Bendle and slowly enters the dressing room. As he approaches Bep, Bep turns to Bendle.

“Thank you, Bendle.” Says Bep.

“No problem, Ms. Nemeni.” Says Bendle. He shuts the door, giving Bep and Darles privacy.

Darles turns to face Bep. If he had a mouth, he’d have a wide smile on his face. “You look wonderful, Bep.” Says Darles.

“Thank you.” Says Bep. “I appreciate it. You look great too with that new look.”

Darles looks down at himself. He had bought a new suit and tie, the suit being an emerald green and the tie being an vibrant yellow, colors contrasting and pairing with his body tones of teal and magenta.

“Thank you!” Says Darles with a slight chuckle. “I thought it would be a nice change. I’m not wearing that old shit suit anymore.”

“Hey.” Says Bendle, peeking through the door again. Darles and Bep turn as he begins to speak again. “You’re almost on. And Mr. Boogie’s here.”

“Thank you, Bendle.” Says Bep. “We’ll be out shortly.”

“No problem.” Says Bendle as he exits.

Bep notices Bendle didn’t call her 'Ms. Nemeni' like he should’ve…

She doesn’t mind though. She knows it was an accident.

She had changed. She no longer snapped at people.

She changed for the better. Something she never thought she could do.

Another knock on the door is heard. “Come in.” Says Bep.

Hoonis peels in through the door. “It’s about to be showtime!” He says. “Come on!”

Bep and Darles look up to each other with confidence. They both them head to the dressing room’s exit, now being backstage. They stand next to Hoonis, who stands next to Bendle.

“I’ll let you know when you’ll be on.” Says Bendle.

The trio nods. Bep then looks to the crowd, gazing upon them with wide eyes.

“You ready?” Hoonis asks Bep and Darles.

Bep and Darles nod confidently.

Suddenly, intro music is heard.

“You’re on!” Bendle whispers.

The trio then slowly walks out onto the stage and take a seat as the intro music ends. They all look out to the audience.

“Hello, again!” Bep announces to the audience. “It’s been awhile! Welcome back! Today’s very special, as I have not one, but two guests here today! Do you two want to introduce yourselves?” She asks as she turns to face Hoonis and Darles.

“Hello, everybody!” Hoonis dramatically exclaims to audience. “I am full-time show host Hoonis Boogie! A pleasure to see you all again.”

Darles appears slightly hesitant to speak. “…Hello.” He says. “I am Darles Nemeni, former showman and Ms. Nemeni’s father. It’s nice to be here.”

“Today, we’ll be interviewing these two beacons of entertainment, discussing their lives since the recent apocalypse and where they’re going from there. Do either of you have anywhere you’d like to start?”

“Oh, well…” Hoonis begins. “I’ve been fine, mostly… nightmares are a pain, but that’s life! Am I right?” The audience chuckles.

Darles chuckles softly. “I’ve been okay.” He says. His eyes trail off a bit. “I’ve been at home, getting used to… living again… it’s refreshing.”

“Since recent news broadcastings after the initial attack, most people know about the involvement you two had in it.” Says Bep. “How do you feel about that?”

“…Weird.” Says Hoonis, chuckling slightly. “I never thought I’d be a city-wide hero. Now my dad can shut up about me being a failure!” The audience laughs, with some cheers sprinkled throughout.

Darles’ gaze averts again. He appears ashamed. “…I was almost surprised no one looked at me funny.” He says. “I caused that mess and yet… I’m not being attacked.”

“I think that’s because they saw that you wanted to change, dad.” Says Bep.

Darles chuckles. “…Maybe.” He says.

Bep then turns her head to face the audience. “To my audience, I want you all to know this.” She begins. “Anyone can change, if they’re willing to. To truly change means to show that you want to change, you want to be better. And that’s what my father and I have set out to do.”

“Not everyone can change, and that’s okay!” Hoonis butts in. “Focus on the ones who actually want that change. Like Darles and Bep here!”

“Exactly, Hoonis!” Says Bep. “You took the words right out my mouth.”

“…I may have another chance, but not everyone gets that.” Darles butts in. “Use whatever chances you have to improve. It’s good for you, for others.”

Bep nods. “You have the opportunity to change for the better.” She says. “Use it.”

The sound of the outro music then cuts through the motivational air. The interviewer and showmen look to the audience.

“Oh, it’s time for a commercial break!” Says Bep. “We’ll see you all real soon!”

As the outro music comes to a close, everyone who had been watching is left in a quiet awe.

Anyone can change. Everyone has the ability to be better, but not everyone can be better.

Such is the way of life.

Imperfection is very prevalent in our world, but that shouldn’t stop you or others from seeking great things.

- END -

Previous Chapter:

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

I would like more cousin duo factoids and tidbits

The Roycegaryen/Targtower Daddy Issues Havers Cousin Duos are so dear to me, thank you for this opportunity to scream about it

Ella & Aemond

This shit is built on mutual "my mental health is everyone else's problem" bullshittery. They are a constant feedback loop of "catharsis is arson & soul rendering screams into the void & property damage," both equally explosive but subdued in the areas where the other isn't. They are also definitely profiting from Ella being way more socially well adjusted & friendly than Aemond; she's basically his emotional support sister-figure (not that he doesn't have older sisters, but Ella's way older than him while actually being willing to be his friend/mentor without being a second mom bc he would never replace Alicent like that!)

Absolutely chaotic son-coded oldest daughter/daughter-coded second son solidarity. When the Targtowers visit Runestone she takes him joyriding on Vermithor & then sends him to go play with her comedically serious son. 16/10 experience, bb!Aemond would do it again & she is his favorite cousin. They definitely set a tree on fire during that flying session.

Yorick & Aegon

My boys elbow deep in the daddy issues muck. The traumatized little boy who hates his shitty dad & just wants his mommy to hold him in Yorick recognizes the traumatized little boy in Aegon. They're friends, they're brothers, they're father & son; they hug each other & cry at least once.

Yorick is, for Aegon, an older male figure who cares about him without worrying about how that benefits him & is safe--he's dad shaped & tells him he can do/be better because he's worth that effort, not because the realm needs it but because he deserves it personally. And then for Yorick, Aegon is finally seeing to fruition the reason he was in King’s Landing & enduring All That for years: being the older brother figure of the king's son. There's just the extra bonus of them being able to commiserate over just fucking hating Viserys.

Aegon is a shivering cat that Yorick found in the dumpster that immediately imprinted on him when he figured out "I like soft touch." Meanwhile, Aegon bonding with Weird Scary Mountain Man is a fucking mirror of Yorick claiming his nasty as hell dragon. Also, Yorick has definitely threatened Otto Hightower in defense of His Boy™ & I feel like that level of care had Aegon stunlocked for several minutes. 100/10, he's never leaving Yorick’s side again.

Aemon & Helaena

Weird quiet isolated kid who gets easily overwhelmed solidarity, right there. Aemon sees the potential to get/be as bad as he was isolation wise, & he wants better than that for whoever he sees that kind of "I'm weird, I'm a weirdo. I don't fit in." energy in, so it starts with him going out of his way to make sure she doesn't slip through the cracks & then blossoms into something really sweet & mutual from there. He'll happily sit there in silence when she needs it & listen to her when she has something to say; like, just generally he isn't treating Helaena like she's fragile or has something wrong with her. His concern is just not wanting her to be lonely.

They respect each other as Socially Just A Little Off & they're mutually safe to be around when the social battery is running on empty. "Your thought processes & need to be alone sometimes are totally normal. Everyone else is wrong." Also, in a modern AU she's who is going up to the counter at the burger place to say Aemon asked for no pickles. Please know that is real & true.

Aemon is also close enough to her age (like, I think he was 5 when she was born?) that he can kind of easily & comfortably fit within her life while still being Large Older Rleative To Be Safe Around If I Need Protection. When he comes home from fostering for his 16th nameday & gets to be in a tourney to celebrate his getting knighted, he asks Helaena for her favor because that's his friend & she said she wanted to give him one. The tourney was loud, but she had fun & Aemon made sure she had both hiding spots & other kids to play with, 12/10 that's her cousin. Also Aemon is one of the most exciting parts of getting betrothed to Yorick's son/Stannis during the course of the fic (Stannis knows he is the second favorite cousin & he's okay with this)

[emerals]

the lads but it’s cards against humanity

some of these are funny most aren’t lmao

prompts are bolded!!

OZZY - - Seeing my father cry; kid-tested, mother-approved. - Step 1: A sorry excuse for a father. Step 2: Vehicular manslaughter. Step 3: Profit. - What's my secret power? Fucking all my dad's friends. - What's that smell? Poor life choices.

JUNIPER - - Excuse me, straight man, but all the different kinds of lesbians isn't for you, STRAIGHT MAN. - Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, we called you because we're concerned about Cynthia. Are you aware that your daughter is throwing grapes at a man until he loses touch with reality? - Girls. High five, bro. - A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without getting serial killed.

XIMENA - - I never truly understood hot people until I encountered your mom. - But before I kill you, Mr. Bond, I must show you vigorous jazz hands. - That's right, I killed heteronormativity. How, you ask? Bees? - For my next trick, I will pull science out of a Bop It.

WHITTANY - - I drink to forget being rich. - Uh, hey guys, I know this was my idea, but I'm having serious doubts about breaking into song and dance. - I got 99 problems but crumbs all over the god damn carpet ain't one. - Hey guys, welcome to Chili's! Would you like to start the night off right with kissing grandma on the forehead and turning off her life support?

ASH - - Arby's We Have completely unwarranted confidence. - When I am President, I will create the Department of a bitch slap. - Hey Reddit! I'm judging everyone. Ask me anything. - I'm LeBron James, and when I'm not slamming dunks, I love two Xanax and a bottle of wine.

VIVIAN - - YAAAAAAS! You are serving me daddy issues realness! - Dude, do not go in that bathroom. There's men in there. - What's the best metaphor for our political system? 30 shirtless bears emerging from the fog. - 50% of all marriages end in listening to her problems without trying to solve them.

EVERETT - - In the new Disney Channel Original Movie, Hannah Montana struggles with the patriarchy for the first time. - What are my parents hiding from me? Saying "I love you". - As the mom of five rambunctious boys, I'm no stranger to a little boy who won't shut the fuck up about dinosaurs. - If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love committing treason?

KIWI - - Mamma Mia. Here I go again. My! My! How can I resist giggling like an anime girl? - Kids, I don't need drugs to get high. I'm high on sunshine an rainbows. - TSA guidelines now prohibits wizard music on airplanes. - My fellow Americans: Before this decade we will have Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson on the moon!

DEAN - - I get by with a little help from self-loathing. - I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure what you're suffering from is called "being fucking pathetic". - Your dreams are one click away! Learn more at Hope.com. - What's the most emo? A lifetime of sadness.

NIX - - Maybe she's born with it. Maybe it's menstrual rage. - The class field trip was completely ruined by whatever straight people do for fun. - It's a pity that kids these days are all getting involved with unfathomable stupidity. - Old MacDonald had dark and mysterious forces beyond our control. E-I-E-I-O.

HUNTER - - Howdy neighbor! I couldn't help but notice you struggling with getting into a pretty bad car accident. Need a hand? - Why can't I sleep at night? Dead parents. - When I was tripping on acid, BATMAN! turned into therapy. - I'm Tony Robbins, and over the next sixty minutes I'm going to teach you how to harness the power of the Kool-Aid Man!

DOTTIE - - What's there a ton of in heaven? Some god damn peace and quiet. - What's a girl's best friend? Solving problems with violence. - I'm going on a cleanse this week. Nothing but kale juice and silence. - IF you like sipping kombucha like a smug piece of shit, YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK.

ADEN - - Check me out, yo! I call this dance move "establishing dominance." - White people like drinking gasoline to see what it tastes like. - Just saw this upsetting video! Please retweet!! #stopmyinnerdemons - Why do I hurt all over? A mistake.

SYLVIA - - Designers! For this week's challenge, you must make a dress designed for telling Heather she can't pull off that top. - Daddy, why is mommy crying? Toxic masculinity. - And the Academy Award for complaining goes to the careless cunt who left a water ring on my credenza. - Why am I sticky? Soup that is too hot.

LOUIE - - Instead of coal, Santa now gives the bad children PTSD. - We're here! We're doing crimes! Get used to it! - Today on Maury: "Help! My son is being a motherfucking sorcerer!" - Premiering tonight: NBC's new heartfelt family drama, This Is an old guy who's almost dead.

MARSHALL - - I'm sorry Professor, but I couldn't complete my homework because of some guy. - What never fails to liven up the party? Being on fire. - Well if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a date with kayaking with my sluts. - Here is the church. Here is the steeple. Open the doors and there is a messy bitch who lives for drama.

[dvnhams]

meet david dunham.

— basics.

Name: David Lionel Dunham

Age / D.O.B.: 37 / February 5, 1986

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Male, he/him, so deep in the closet they'll need a hydraulic crane to extricate him.

Hometown: New York, NY, USA

Affiliation: Media

Job Position: Founder and Editor-In-Chief of Disruptor, an independent, online political publication.

Education: Bachelor in Political Science, Master of Business Administration

Relationship Status: Don’t fucking worry about it (single).

Children: None

Positive Traits: Calculating, ambitious, and persuasive

Negative Traits: Untrusting, untrustworthy, and unpredictable 

— the long and short of it.

David Dunham is an arrogant, irritable little man whose patience is proportional to his small stature. He’ll decide how he feels about you within the first few seconds of meeting you and treat you accordingly for the foreseeable future. If he likes you, he’ll be straight with you – warts, pus and all. If he doesn’t, he’ll be the politest bastard you’ve ever met. You don’t know where you stand with him and you’re not sure you want to. But you need him. If you're in media, you need him. If you're in government, you need him. Law enforcement, white collar crime, whatever – you don’t only need him to like you, you need him to give a shit about you. You know he holds the power to make you or fuck you in his hand, and by god, does it sting. 

— a (very) brief history.

Son of the infamously disgraced former U.S. Senator and convicted felon Robert “Bobby” Dunham (and if you think that’s a mouthful, wait ‘til you see what’s on his rap sheet). Something of a pariah in the political sphere. Something of a big fucking deal everywhere else.

Succeeds two older siblings who have already done the “I-am-not-my-father” song and dance for a seat at the congressional table and failed spectacularly, so. The bar for success in this family is underground. He could be a poli sci professor at NYU and still have the better-looking resume of the three, all things considered. 

Got his big break in journalism for helping blow the whistle (not a euphemism, fuck you) on his old man’s many misdeeds circa the 2010 midterms, because the public eats up a good et tu, brute narrative like dinner at Le Bernardin. The family? Not so much. He’s still not invited to the annual holiday retreat in Davos.

Founded Disruptor, a sensationalist, tabloid-esque political news website, soon after he realized there was a buck to make from people that treat politics with the same reverence and precariousness as they do reality television. It’s like TMZ for people with GEDs and extra numbers to their usernames on Twitter. So, TMZ. 

Considers himself “politically neutral,” which is a diplomatic way of saying he likes tax breaks more than he likes human rights. But like, fuck the police, boo systemic oppression and all that; his convictions lie at the intersection of provocative and profitable. 

Has too many fucking skeletons in his closet to condense into a few bullet points or less. Buy him a drink or take him out to dinner first – he won’t be any more likely to tell you about his childhood trauma or whatever, but at the very least, it’ll give you a hell of a story to tell your friends. 

— potential connections / plots.

LIE WITH DOGS, GET UP WITH FLEAS: Having no discernable moral alignments means David’s in bed with some seedy people, figuratively and literally. Corrupt politicians, media adversaries, bankers with their hands in dirty money…his network reaches far and wide, and if you do find yourself in his alliance, he gives as good as he gets – but only if the get is good.  DON’T EVER TAKE SIDES AGAINST THE FAMILY: Remember his dad, Bobby Dunham? Yeah, so, it turns out that getting busted for white-collar crime really threw a wrench in the whole “American family political dynasty” thing they had going on for a while in the early aughts. Now the only two things the Dunhams have in common with the Kennedys are daddy issues and a handful of nepo-liticians who tried and failed to redeem the family name. Please, give David his failsiblings and relatives from their mother’s old money side of the family who look down their noses at them for being such national fucking embarrassments. BURN THE MIDNIGHT OIL: Disruptor is notorious in the industry for its aggressive, no-holds-barred approach to political journalism, so if that sounds like something that aligns with your career goals, they’d be more than happy to have you in the ranks. Executives, editors, reporters, photographers – any and all positions are open for applications. Teamwork makes the dream work, and all. WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY (IF YOU LOVED ME): Very few people on this earth genuinely like David. Even fewer are good people. He needs some real, sincere relationships to fuck with his head and make him question whether he actually takes joy in being a piece of shit or does it out of some disgusting, deep-seated need for human connection. whocanneverbesure.gif

[thekatea]

Moonlight Chicken

Watched: 02.03.2023

It felt like the highlights of a greater story.You know what? I want to watch either the show they teased in the trailer one year ago, because what we’ve got was just completely different material, or what we’ve got here, but in a longer format.

I’ll start with the biggest flaw I saw, to get it over with. Earth was miscast. To everyone who honestly thinks Earth fits the role - drop me the name of your country, I gotta go and find myself a 40 but looking 20 daddy. Don’t know what kind of fountain of youth your government is selling for you to think he is believable “about to be” middle aged man, but I want some of it.

And please don’t start with: some people look younger than their age. Sure, but this is literally not the case in this story. Not once was it part of the discussion how he looks good for his age. I mean, the fact that Wen even asked Jim if Li Ming was his son suggests, Jim is supposed to look his age. He just looked way too much like a peer next to Mix and Khaotung.

Because of that, many scenes that were more hard hitting and emotional, felt simply not sincere. He is the main character, so if I cannot connect to him, the whole show starts to fall apart. This is what happens when profiting from a popular and established pairing is more important than proper casting. Pro tip to directors - if you are not willing to cast age appropriate actors, do not try to make shows with big age gaps between characters or about characters who are in their late 30’ and 40’. (Putting this casting into perspective - the actor playing Heart’s father is 45).

That said, I’m not gonna act as if it will for sure ruin the watching experience for everyone - it will not. It’s just something that I personally cannot ignore, especially since the character’s age was brought up over and over again in conversations.

Putting Jim aside, I actually enjoyed a lot of other characters and their interactions. Wen and Li Ming were truly adorable, with this older/younger brother dynamic, and Wen did a good job being the bridge between the uncle and the teen. He made them both understand each other better.

I also found Wen’s and Alan’s relationship fascinating and wish we would see more of it. It seemed like they made almost every possible mistake to end up in this situation, and trying to fix it right away would be an impossible task.

Heart and Li Ming were obviously fans’ favorites. Did I like them? Yes. Do I feel like their interactions were too similar to My School President and it was a bit like watching the same characters just in a different context? Also yes.

Honestly speaking, Alan was my favorite character and one that I was most curious about. It should also be illegal to give Khaotung such a tiny role taking into consideration his talent. I find it a bit funny how, in my view, two most talented actors in the show were sidelined like that.

While I enjoyed Earth and Mix in their other projects, I did not quite like them here. The main couple was for me the weakest aspect of the whole show. I enjoyed the characters far more with other people, compared to watching them interact with each other.

Giving credit where credit is due, Moonlight Chicken tries to tackle more serious issues and steps away from the typical high school romance. It does not follow the “one relationship for the life” idea, showing the past relationships of the main characters. It gives us a deaf community representation in a tactful manner. It shows that at times putting more effort will not save the relationship, and the most healthy way is to just end it and leave. It shows various types of parents-kids relationships, and how there are no right and wrong universal answers, it all depends on the circumstances.

While I appreciate the writer and director bringing all these important issues to the table, I also feel like they were more of an appetizer than a whole meal. It’s undeniable that they did not have enough time to truly dive deep into any of these topics, so at the end it felt more like highlights of a greater story. Personally, I prefer my slice of life character driven shows in a slower pace, that gives me time to digest everything that is happening on the screen.

The quality of the production fluctuated quite a bit. Some scenes were a true perfection and there was not a detail that had to be changed to improve them. But then some scenes had such sloppy lighting I actually laughed. What I loved for sure though were the set designs. Aesthetically pleasing, but not over the top that it looked unnatural. You saw it and you believed - yes, someone lives/works here.

Overall, it has many great messages, many great lines. Could have been one of the best BLs if the production was a bit more daring, but also selective in terms of the story and the casting.

[kspp]

WHOSE CHILDREN ARE THEY ANYWAY ?

I fondly remember a conversation between a four-year-old girl and her father on her first train journey in 2018. The moment the train left the station, the child was jubilant and jumped to tell her father, ‘Daddy, the train station is moving away from us.’ After a brief conversation, the father convinced his daughter that it was not the train station that was moving; instead, the train was leaving the station.

Another incident that intrigued me during my primary research on children was in the refugee pockets in Jammu. Families had fled from countries like xxxx, many children were born in refugee camps. Until reality hit the child, he believed that his refugee country was his place of residence and identity. This belief was shattered when these children were confronted with the reality that they were merely refugees who did not belong to their land of birth. Instead, they are looked at as citizens of a country from where their parents were forced to flee due to the fear of persecution, and they are now, technically stateless to say the least.

Both incidents reflect the innocent perception of a child’s own life and their confrontation with reality. For the girl on board the train, her exposition to the fact is an empowering choice of knowledge. At the same time, in the latter case, it is a political vindication of identity subsumed in the unqualified denial of access of the most fundamental guarantees by either or both, the host or the country of refugee – citizenship, statehood, identity and access to the most fundamental entitlement which will eventually empower the child: health and education.

The former three concerns are fenced around the political contours of the State’s recognition, majoritarian will and populism, while the latter (health and education) establish the first foundational relationship between the State and the child as an empowering right to grow up as an adult.

The Question ?

Should primary health and education be marred by the earlier three paradigms of citizenship, Statehood and identity or, this should remain independent as a non-derogable entitlement in the best interest of the child and thus calling upon the receiving states to provide these most basic entitlements as a right, irrespective of the citizenship of the child.

One argument espoused is that the receiving State is under no obligation to provide anything. There are international agencies like the UNHCR and other non-profits organizations to address these issues. Second, the people who have sought temporary refugee will eventually return to their own country. Thirdly, the apprehension that if the State extends national initiatives like primary education and health, they may settle within the comfort of their new country, putting an additional burden upon the receiving State. Fourth, and most rhetorically proclaimed, their permanent presence poses a security risk, and therefore they must be eventually deported. Nationalism is a resounding discourse. Finally, the receiving State has not signed the refugee convention (case basis) and thus is under no obligation.

Another side of the coin is the receiving State’s obligation under the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child and its responsibility in a globalized world to protect, respect and fulfil the customary guarantees of primary health and education, irrespective of Statehood or citizenship

The best’ interest principle’ in the UN-CRC fuses the law’s protection and empowering spirit under one umbrella. Protection as a negative obligation dovetails a guardianship network against arbitrary State action through parents, village elders, autonomous and State institutions, etc. Empowerment remains fluid and risks undermining the non-derogable nature of the Convention since it seamlessly yet dangerously seeps within the larger paradigm of Economic Social and Cultural Rights (ESC) as a positive obligation limited to the availability of maximum available resources. The absence/lack of the binding nature of ESC rights (e.g. health and education) fails the child in its entirety when the Convention does not create capacity to ensure the child’s transition to adulthood, enjoy the availability of choices and the freedom to choose. Second, it risks creating an unhealthy and uneducated population.

Primary data analysis of the refugee children in Jammu shows 886 school dropouts out of the total of 2073 children are engaged in child labour. Amongst the school-going children, 59% of the children are going to linguistic or refugee run community schools. After calculating the school dropouts in various classes, only 25 children out of 2073 will fulfil the minimum criteria to apply for jobs in the future.

In terms of health, no birth registration is carried out. Instead, an affidavit is prepared by the families to confirm the birth. The immunization rate is extremely low since they are not covered under the universal immunization scheme. India’s immunization rate is more than 82% in all vaccination programs. In contrast, for the documented refugee population, the rate is abysmally low to a maximum of 60% in the case of OPV (oral polio vaccine) to a low of 1.5% for measles-rubella (MR) vaccination.

State reluctance to extend minimum human rights guarantees to the population citing the oft-quoted risk of granting permanency to an otherwise refugee population is likely to have a disparate impact on children in future. Rampant child labour and exploitation is prevalent with negligible access to state-sponsored health and education. With more than 50% of the present population being children and 20% within the above 50% being born in India will also raise questions on their citizenship in future.

History is replete with examples that refugees have rarely returned to their native country. They have seldom mainstreamed with the country of refugee and instead, such refugee camps have mushroomed as ghettos with people living in abject poverty. In the absence of any State intervention, they are an undocumented population vulnerable to exploitation.

This is a question of trade-off: recognizing children’s basic entitlement to health and education opens up a pandora box of state obligations to non-citizens best explained by the famous phrase: ‘Rob Peter to pay Paul’.’ On the other hand, denial of these basic rights to children does not auger well for the receiving State too. Over the years, many of these young children as adults could be termed anti-national/anti-social elements without the slightest recognition that it was the absence of minimum public education guarantees that these children were left with no choice. Similarly, the unhealthy population will even work unworthy and unskilled. Very few will therefore be able to deflect from the vicious cycle of poverty and unemployment in the absence of State intervention. The rest of the population will fringe to the essentially de facto segregated spaces, which will become ghettos.

[branded-perceptions]

Friendship is, like society, presence with people & focusing with them on all our causal life needs no matter which stories we have in our heads.

This is what the cults of Abrahamic religions have cultivated with their cult followers.

For example the indulgence of sins was a form of intimacy of openly talking about the darkest side of oneself with an calm non-judgemental authority figure modelling the role every father should be for their kids ... "holy father" ...which is why those with biggest daddy issues go to such cults or modern equivalence like "my dream Akira the Don"

whose goon gangster mentalities' "positive" profitably systematic exploitation of the causal life needs of the poor and weak

was not just engrained in our by that globally distorted lawsystems

but observed by the daily life of all the gangs in Europe (Mafia) and North and south america whose gang members via the intimate relationships with the cult members of Vatican

have shared their by apathy of our public systems repressed and ignored valid causal roots of their thereby arising anger springing from boundary violations towards their family members causal struggles with our causally exploitative economic go(o)d(s)💸💸💸 bra(i)nde(a)d perceptions' fantasy defences

whose often knowingly uphelt exploitative gangster apathy has become more obvious via "mark of the beast"💉

& during last decades that anger towards the systematic moral balance

(🎵AND THAT'S WHY THEY MAKE THEM IN RECTANGULAR OBJECTS)

injustices of our social organisation

(🎵'CAUSE THAT'S THE SHAPE OF A COFFIN)

has made all these gangs sharpen their knives for "the judgement day"

(🎵PLEASE, LET THIS HATE MAKE ME STRONGER, FOR THEY TURN ON ME LIKE A ZOMBIE)

which we can only overcome

(🎶USE THIS GOSPEL - DJ KHALED)

if we adjust our attention light

(🎵IT'S A HARD ROAD TO HEAVEN🤥😷😇)

towards solving the here explained issues

(🎵WE CALL ON YOUR BLESSINGS)

via publicly rationally via introspection vulnerably discussing our self-regulation🥜

(🎵IN THE FATHER, WE PUT OUR FAITH)

of collective anger dynamics

(🎵OUR DEMONS ARE TREMBLIN')

to via causal problem solving🧠 evolve society for all:

🎵HOLY ANGELS🤥😷😇 DEFENDIN'

[aurorafox825]

□□□Story based off of a Dungeons and Dragons Campaign, told through the perspective of one character, Misty, who suffers with a dark, alternative personality named Mystic.

《《TRIGGER WARNING: GORE, VIOLENCE, SUGGESTIVE ISSUES》》

☆☆☆1,852 words☆☆☆

----------------------------------------------------

Saratos: The Dark Decade

Prologue

"Hey, Misty, hand me those poppy seeds, would ya?" my father said in his usual calm, kind tone. After I handed him the seeds, I watched him speak softly to them, and his hands began to glow. As his hands glowed, I looked at them in awe. He did it every time I was with him, and his magic never ceased to amaze me. After a few seconds, he planted them, and covered them with soil.

"Now it's covered, time to pour the water onto it," he said as he poured water onto the freshly planted seeds, "and they will grow into a beautiful flower, just like you." I giggled and reminded him, "It's almost time for dinner. We should go wash our hands."

He chuckled, "Good idea," before taking my hand and leading me inside. As we were headed to the bathroom, my mother stopped us.

"Misty! You know better than to wear your muddy shoes inside the house!" She scolded.

"I'm sor-"

"Honey, that's no way to treat her. She's just a child, she just got excited for dinner." her father defended.

My mother rolled her eyes, "Shoes. Outside. Now." as she went back to the kitchen to set the table for dinner.

"Pay no mind to her, sweetheart. Here, let me help you." he says as he helped me take my shoes off and sat them outside.

"Sorry, daddy. I just got excited." I said as I looked down.

"Oh, don't worry, flower. Go on and wash up. I'll talk to your mama." he reassured me.

As I went to wash my hands, I began to hear my parents argue. I peeked my head out of the washroom to see what was happening.

"Why do you treat her like a baby, Daron?" my mother stated firmly.

"Because, Neva, she still is a baby. My baby." my father retorted.

"You are unbelievable, you know that? She doesn't need you constantly holding her hand!" she shouted at him.

"Darling, we don't have to fight over something so small. I'll clean up the tracks on the floor after dinner." he said, just trying to calm the situation.

"Fine, but this has to stop happening." my mother said before calling for me.

"Misty, come on. Your food is going to get cold." she called out.

"Coming, mama." I said as I walked out of the washroom.

I always enjoyed spending time with my mother and father, but sometimes it was bumpy. We didn't have much growing up in the small town of Cullfield, but we lived like we had everything. My mother was a merchant, who sold the crops that my father would grow for a profit. It may not have been the dream life, but it was perfect to me as long as we were happy. However, on one unfortunate day, one unlike any other, something strange and terrifying happened that changed our lives forever.

Suddenly, I heard a voice inside my head. Not only did I hear it, but my parents heard it, too. The whole town heard it. The whole world. The voice was so thunderous that it sent chills down my spine. "This world now belongs to me," the voice spoke in a low growl, "Serve me, or perish."

I never felt more afraid or confused than I did at that moment. I sobbed, as my father picked me up and held me in his strong, comforting arms. He assured me that everything would be okay, but I could hear the fear in his voice, too. What once was a life filled with care-free joy, was suddenly turned into a life of fear and torment. Would we be killed? Would we be captured? What did this mean for the future of my town? All of these thoughts ran through my head as my father cradled me.

As the days went on, everyone in the town always seemed to have a sense of horror or dread on their faces. I didn't see other children playing in the streets anymore. I even heard that some of the townspeople started to go missing. My father would tell me that they were in a better place now, but I knew what he meant. It only made my fears and worries worse. Even with this dark cloud looming over us, my mother and father still went on about their day-to-day lives. They tried to pretend to be happy, for my sake, but I could see they weren't. What was once a genuine smile, had turned into a mask to hide their true feelings. As time went on, their masks began fading away as their hopelessness grew larger.

Things only continued to worsen when my father fell ill. My mother had to close down our store to help care for him. However, one morning, she didn't answer his calls for help. She didn't bring him his medicine. She didn't bring him his water. She just disappeared without a trace. This left him in my care, and what was a 9-year-old to do? I continued to give him his medicine like I saw my mother do, but this only seemed to make his conditions worse.

It started with his skin. He looked so pale. He could barely lift his head anymore. When I would check on him, he was usually unconscious or writhing in his bed. He was restless. Every morning, it was the same routine. Wake him up, give him his medicine, and put a cold compress on his forehead. He started having fits. The fits led to palpitations. I was so clueless on how to help him.

One morning, when I woke, I didn't hear his calls for help. I didn't hear his coughing. I didn't hear anything. I reluctantly got out of my bed to go and check on him, but it was too late. I was too late. He was gone. He was gone, and I was left all alone.

That morning, I spent that entire day digging a grave for him, next to our beautifully bloomed poppy field. My mind was racing. What was I going to do? Why did this happen? Where did my mother go? All of these questions clouded my thoughts, as I cried for days on end.

As the days dragged on into months, and the months dragged on into years, I tried to carry on the farm and the store by myself. I barely earned enough profit to make ends meet. I wasn't sure which was worse. Not making ends meet during the day, or being alone at night. Eventually, I started noticing I was talking to myself. I would have full conversations about how my day was, with my imaginary family sitting at a dinner table.

"Hey, mother? Can you pass the bread?" I asked my non-existent mother.

"Of course, dear." I heard her respond.

"Thank you. Hey father? How has your day been?" I asked my non-existent father.

"It was great, flower. I love you, and thank you for asking." I heard him respond.

With my childhood ripped from me, all I had left was my imagination. Sometimes my imagination would get the best of me, as I started to hear other voices respond to me. These voices, which started off easy-going, slowly grew more daring. They would suggest for me to do horrible things, not only to myself, but to other people too. I hoped that the voices would die down, but the older I got, the worse they became. Especially when they started asking questions. They would ask me about my father, and why his sickness was so sudden. Why couldn't I have done better? It eventually got to a point where I could no longer bear being inside that home.

By this time, It had been 10 years since my father passed. I decided to close the store early one day, and for good. I had had enough torment from the voices, and the home. I packed a bag of essentials, as well as my fathers scythe, and left home. My mind was racing, and I needed to clear my head. I decided to go into the woods near my home to try to clear my mind, but that only made the voices seem louder. They practically screamed questions at me.

"Who would hurt him?" one would ask. Before I could answer, I was cut off by a different voice.

"Why would anyone do this?"

"This is all your fault!"

"You did this to him!"

"No! I did my best!" I would yell as tears began to stream down my face uncontrollably.

The voices continued like this for what felt like hours, until I finally collapsed from fatigue. I laid on the forest floor, crying and screaming, as they continued to hound me with questions and accusations.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"How could you do this?"

"How dare you!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I-I don't know. I can't think. I should... I should..."

"..kill them all."

My consciousness began to fade, but I began laughing, as I picked myself up off the floor. I no longer felt pain or anguish. Everything became so clear, and I knew what would make me feel better. To cause the same amount of anguish to other people as I had been feeling. I picked my scythe up off of the ground, and headed back towards town. I was giggling with excitement at the thought of feeling pure joy once again, like I had when I was a kid. The voices had stopped. I was in control once again.

It didn't take me long to get back to town. It was already night, but there were still people out. As I walked through the town, it wasn't long before someone got in my way.

"H-hey, are you alright?" a middle-aged human male asked.

"Never better," I said as I gripped my scythe with both hands and brought it up over my head. He barely had time to let out a scream before I sunk the blade through the top of his skull. As I ripped the scythe back into my hands, I felt his blood splatter onto me. The feeling of his blood on my skin made me feel like a flower in desperate need of water. I let out a laugh of joy as I walked over his mangled corpse and continued into the town.

It was purely orgasmic. The screams of the women, before slicing their heads clean off of their shoulders. The cries of children, as I ripped their hearts from their chests. I especially loved the ones who tried to run, as Hunting them down felt like a game. Eventually, the town caught wind of my night out. They tried to band together to stop me, which only made my night that much better. I finally felt happy again. I began to write my name in their blood on every structure that was still standing. The world would know who Mystic was after tonight. It's just a shame that my night couldn't last forever.

[leanleather]

Peach Whiskey, Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a saloon owner. On what should be a typical shift, a group of cowboys wander in. The leader of said group is Elvis Presley, a man with a reputation for his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger. Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: I was deeply inspired by A Whole Man is Hard to Find, an absolutely gorgeous peace by my now favorite author, @aconflagrationofmyown​. That being said, my knowlegde of the time period is nowhere near as good as Marina’s in that fic. I will be doing more and more research as this fic goes on, but for now I am relying on memory, movies, and Red Dead Redemption (hey, I love cowboys, ok?). This takes place in like the early 1800′s in a little made up town, but I picture it being like Rhodes from RDR2, so we’ll just say it’s in Georgia (my apologies to any from Georgia because I feel like I’m gonna butcher my knowledge of the state). Also I couldn’t find like an actual word for the leader of a cowboy posse? The only one I saw was sheriff so we will roll with it. I haven’t written a series in a LONG time, so bear with me please.

Warnings: Period typical violence, swearing, guns, death threats (not directed toward Y/N), unwanted and uncomfortable flirting, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW), use of the word “daddy” (in reference to an actual father, this is the old south y’all), cowboys, mentions of robbery & murder, jeez this isn’t looking good for just the first chapter, mentions of prostitution, family issues, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread lol

Your daddy had shook his head when you asked to work a couple of hours at The Silver Spur. It had been nearly a fortnight since the incident that made him remove you in the first place. Piggish men deep in their glass just couldn’t keep their tongue still, you had learned. Luckily your daddy had stepped in and escorted the man out, effectively suspending you in the process.

Yet here you stood, leaning against the wooden bar, diligently cleaning a glass with a well-worn cloth. It was a slow night--the occasional customer wandering in and sitting down to get piss fucking drunk--but you didn’t mind. Any citizen of  Lynnburn or wandering stranger could plant their soul in the saloon.

Lynnburn wasn’t a big town, housing no more than five-thousand and seven hundred residents. To any stranger it would have seemed nothing more than a dusty place with poor folks. That was the facade the town was lucky to have, keeping lush farmland hidden within the woods nearby. Corn was what kept the people fed and paid along with the yearly cattle sale. Horse shows had begun to turn a profit in the confines of the town’s stables, but it had only just started to gain the attention of outsiders. It both excited and worried Lynnburn natives. The Silver Spur drew in wanderers from all over the wooded state of Georgia. Your father’s well-known peach whiskey attracted all sorts of folks--most of which being shady business men looking to snatch farming land, or men passing through on their way to the big city.

One of those shady business men was sat at the end of the bar, nursing a drink in his sweaty palms, his eyes baring directly at your body. You paid him no mind as you continued your work. The consistent hum of patrons suddenly hushed, a rhythmic k'duh sound slicing through. Your eyes shifted as the glass was quickly abandoned beneath the counter of the bar. Plastering on a smile, your voice came out soaked in honey. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Finally the men came into view, and by god, the middle man was so pretty.

He had what could only be described as the face of a young adonis. A fine beau with soft, tanned skin covering a toned but equally soft body. The raven black hair pulled the focus to his eyes, bluer than the sky on an autumn day. But you recognized his face for another reason, one that made your hands tremble a bit.

The man and his companions filled the remaining seats at the bar. He pulled the hat off of his head and rested it on the counter. “Hi, honey. We’ll all just be havin’ whiskey, on me.” You gave a nod in response and started pouring the spirit. A few drops slid down the side of the glass, a soft apology leaving your lips.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Presley.” You sat the glass in front of him. Elvis Presley was sitting in your father’s saloon. The same man who had a hand in removing a whole gang from Lynnburn and stolen their loots, blood staining his hands and perhaps his soul, was now asking you for a drink. The cowboy let out a soft chuckle, his calloused hands wrapping around your own.

“You’re alright, darlin’. Ain’t none of us degenerates gon’ hurt you.” Elvis cooed. The skin on your face felt so hot, whether it was out of fear, embarrassment, or flattery, you weren’t sure. His friends gave agreeing nods or laughs of their own, the other patrons in the saloon melting back into their own conversations. “In fact, as long as we’re drinkin’ here, your safety is our priority.” He smiled at you--a big, toothy grin--and you could feel your stomach twist.

It wasn’t long before you had given out the rest of the drinks to his buddies--who you had learned were named Jerry, Sonny, Robert (who they called Red), and Scotty. They had been gentlemanly to you as soon as Elvis gave the word. For a moment, you were sure that the night would go on and end normally.

But that business man could only hold his tongue for so long. He was near red in the face when you approached to take his empty glass. “Sweet thing, how much would a man need to offer to get a night with you?” He rasped. You had to stop yourself from boiling over, instead choosing to stiffen and move away.

“I never.” You practically hissed. Before the man could part his lips to retort, another voice cut through.

“That’s enough. Leave the lady alone.” Elvis sneered. He was standing now, moved closer to the business man with his hands curled down by his sides. The gaggle of men he’d arrived with also focused on the situation with fierce snarls. “Why don’t you just pay your tab n’ go on home, huh?” The distinct click of a revolver hammer followed. A ghostly hue washed over the now disgruntled patron as he dug in his pockets, producing some silver coins and hastily setting them on the counter before rising and hurriedly shuffling out of your father’s business.

Your eyebrows remained raised in surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Presley, but you didn’t have to do that. Usually they take the hint after the first couple times.” You snatched the glass left by the offending male, cleaning it and shoving it below the counter. It was a lie. They didn’t stop, only kept perusing until they lost interest and paid a prostitute, or your father made an appearance and forced them to leave. You were silently thankful that a man with a violent reputation had chosen to have mercy on you that night. Though, you had never heard such things about the Presley gang--who you had heard called the Mephis Mafia by town-goers, on according that the men involved had moved from Memphis, in whispers at the general store or in the corner of the saloon--ever doing anything like that to a woman. But just because nobody thought a person could do something didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. It was a hard truth your mother had sowed in your brain. Love few, and trust even less.

Elvis nodded his head slightly, scooting the coins down to you and moving back to his seat. “I only regret that men speak to you that way. ‘Specially pigs like that, though that’s a dishonor to the swine.” Scotty laughed, swallowing down the last of his drink. “But like I said, nobody’s gon’ talk to ya like that when we’re here. Swear it.” The man looked back to his friends and received grumbled agreeances. “And please, call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my daddy.” That boyish smile made a reappearance, as if he hadn’t just threatened to paint the walls with the blood of another human being. It was sickening in a way--but, it had been in your favor. Elvis looked to the swinging doors, shaking his head softly and stretching. “Well honey, we best be goin’. Never did get yer name though.” It wasn’t a question. Not a ‘could I know your name’? It was almost a demand, but delivered much more gently. “It’s Y/N McCane, sir.” You returned his smile. You swiftly collected the empty glasses together. “Though I suspect you may know my brother, Teddy. He’s always runnin’ around town helpin’ folks with something.” Knowingly, Elvis leaned in.

“I do, actually. Good kid. Tried to recruit him a couple ‘a times, but he said your daddy wouldn’t want our blood money.” The blood running through you froze. The cowboy had been such a gentlemen before, but you couldn’t help the suspicion rising in you that it may have been a threat. “Relax, honey. Told ya. We ain’t that bad. Tell ya what,” Elvis leaned back to look at Jerry and cocked an eyebrow, the other man shrugging, “why don’t you come out to our ranch tomorrow? You can see what we’re really about.“ Shit. There’s no way your family would let you go out there. But, what harm could it do? “It will have to be after church, Mr. Pre- Elvis. Just...just meet me there.” You breathed quietly. The man across from you took your hand again, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Great. We’ll see you then. Come on boys, we got chores to wrap up!” Elvis reached into his pocket, pulling out what you quickly noticed was far too much money and setting it down. He left you no time to object before he ushered his posse out. Your elbows lifted to rest on the counter, your head landing in your hands with a sigh.

Once you’d closed The Silver Spur for the night, you hobbled up the stairs to your family’s abode, your stomach rumbling as you caught the smell of your momma’s cooking. You made no attempt to do anything but sit in the chair at the dining table. As you sat and locked hands with your family, your mother said grace and that was that. Not a word was spoken between mouthfuls. That was, until your father spoke. “How was work, Y/N?” It had startled you, nearly making you choke on the roasted chicken in your mouth.

“Mm, it was fine.” You replied as you wiped your face. The fork in your hand jabbed at the food on the plate. Your mind was at war with your mouth and it was unsure which would win. “Oh, uhm, Elvis Presley stopped in. Wanted me to visit his ranch.” The words spilled out of you so fast you’d barely avoided cutting yourself off with another mouthful of food.

Your father, however, became downright stiff. His utensils were abandoned on the table. “You let Elvis Presley convince you to visit his home? Good god...” Fingers grasped at the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fucking kidnap you now that he knows where to find you. What were you thinking?” He chastised. You dared not look at him, instead meeting the eyes of Teddy. His expression was sympathetic. He knew they weren’t completely awful, but his lips remained tight.

“Daddy, he ain’t that bad. Defended my damn honor and paid me more than enough for his buddies’ drinks.” You retorted, finishing your food. Long ago had you tired of his over-protectiveness. “I am grown. I can go where I please, when I please. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but just this once, please trust me.” It was pleading. Even a man as stoic as your father couldn’t resist giving in.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But please, take your gun? And at the first sign of anything going down, get the fuck outta there. Hear me?” You nodded excitedly. That was your cue to retire for the night, saying your goodnights to the family before heading to the room you and your brother shared. Laying in bed, you could not still your thoughts. Maybe you would ride along side the gang, hooves thundering beneath you, free as the hawks that soared the farmland looking for mice. Or maybe your father would be right, maybe you’d end up in a room in the middle of nowhere, praying for the same mercy shown to you tonight. All you could do was wait, hope, and make sure your gun was tucked into the garter on your thigh.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Kai, Dabi, Trumpet, Skeptic (probably messed up his name srry) and Nines reacting to their kids wanting to dress up as them for Halloween along with their SO reaction, just a idea though plus dont feel obligated to do this

Pss I bet you can't guess who I am behind the anon mask, hint hint im a nuisance who also writes for Overhoe

(Whoo-hoo! My first spooky ask for October! I can’t wait! Looks like Kai and Skeptic are the only one’s I officially gave kids to so we’ll address their munchkins by name lol)

(Sidenote: reveal yourself!!! ahhhh!)

~”Just like Daddy for Halloween”~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Overhaul~

-”Huh?” Kai cocked his head to the side while you sat at the kitchen table filling candy from a bag into a large bowl. “I said he doesn’t want to be a vampire anymore.” You repeat your words, sneaking a bite off your candy apple on the plate next to you. Kai sighed and stared at the pile of fabric on the table. “I already bought the costume. We stood in the costume store for an hour and a half while he picked it out. What’s that over there?” Kai pointed at the pile and you paused your work to pick it up. “It’s his costume.” You smiled at his honest reaction. Him? Kaishi wanted to be him for Halloween? “Damn that brat for always making me feel like this...” Kai gripped at his chest and smiled widely. The boy had said in the past that he wanted to be just like him, but it never failed to make Kai feel that blossom of pride and warmth swell up his chest. A few days passed and it was finally Halloween. You passed the candy handling duty off to Pops since the old man decided not to join you three for trick or treating. It was adorable seeing your baby boy standing next to his father looking like clones. Same golden eyes, (h/c) skin, and that killer stoic expression your husband always sported. “Are you ready to go, my baby?” Kaishi’s eyes lit up and his demeanor changed in an instant. “YES YES LET’S GO!” Kai smiled and followed the two of you out the door, never feeling that pride subside for the entirety of the night.

~Dabi~

-Halloween was the best night of his life to be out. The League gained traction and (much like Stain) ended up having some merchandise and following. No doubt companies profiting off something controversial. Lot’s of people were out dressed in costumes pertaining to the organization. Have they no shame? Oh well whatever, Dabi didn’t care. He loved being able to be out almost all night long and sometimes most of the day. That was until he lost that opportunity when he met you. He screwed around and fell in love with you and next thing he knew you were pregnant (or had adopted depending on the reader). He was hesitant on even the slightest idea of fatherhood. He didn’t have the best upbringing and didn’t feel like he should contribute toward bringing a kid of his own into this fucked up world. He still had some unresolved issues of his own. The moment his hands touched the baby for the first time, he knew he wanted to dedicate himself entirely toward them having a different childhood than the one he had to suffer through. Kids are so sweet and innocent. His son looked at him the same way that you did: with all the love and adoration in the world despite all the fucked up stuff he’d done. The two of you cared deeply for Dabi and his son even admired him. That’s probably why you were trying to desperately glue a shit ton of fake staples onto your kid while Dabi stood there trying not to chuckle. “Are you sure about going as me this year? Your mom/daddy/parent here has been struggling for the past 2 hours and we got a 30 minute window left.” You had to fight the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up when you 6 year old was literally right there. “I’m sure! I wanna be daddy for Halloween so please keep going! Look!!!” He reached tiny hands into his pocket and pulled out blue tissue paper he started to crinkle with his fingers. “Look at my blue flame!”

~Trumpet~

-Hanabata was both honored and confused at the same time. He watched the two of you standing in the shop and getting a tailormade suit for his little boy all because the boy wanted to be him for Halloween. “Are you absolutely sure you wanna go through with this? I mean, isn’t Halloween supposed to be scary? Wanna be a ghost, or Frankenstein’s monster, or a Werewolf?” The little boy looked up and puffed his already chubby cheeks out with a pout. “No daddy, no! I wanna be you for Halloween!” You gently shushed him since the shop was quiet after all. “It’s okay baby. Koku, let him express himself. Besides, I’d wanna be a super cool politician too.” You teased him with a wink and he cleared his throat. “Ah well, I suppose I understand.” The entire way home your son was over the top excited about his new suit. He chattered and you swore you could see the blush on Hanabata’s face forming. ‘Me? He thinks I’m that cool?’ It was rare to have someone think that way about his career considering it wasn’t the most exciting. Of course the boy didn’t understand politics since he was only 6 years old, but he DID understand his daddy was important. More than anything, he loved Koku so of course it’s only natural he wanted to be him. On Halloween Hanabata stopped the two of you at the doorway. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his tie before placing them carefully on his son’s face. “Now let’s go trick or treat, eh?” He smiled and pat the boys head. “YAY!!!!”

~Skeptic~

-He didn’t imagine he’d have the worlds biggest fan in such a small package. Ever since she was just a small girl (under the age of 1) the two of them were attached at the hip. Tomoko was a huge daddy’s girl and she had Skeptic wrapped around her little finger. That’s why he was overjoyed with pride when she came into the bedroom one day and spoke loudly in her tiny voice “I’m gonna be just like daddy for Halloween!!!” You smiled at the thought of it. She’d already had a head full of hair (texture depends on the reader), and it was nearly covering her own eyes considering Tomoyasu didn’t want her to cut it and neither did she. Her posture was a little more like daddy’s since she spent time being hunched over the table coloring for hours and hours on end while he worked on his laptop right beside her. Tomoko could pull off the costume without a doubt. When you’d pieced the simple outfit together finally, Skeptic stood in the corner taking so many pictures that you were sure his memory card would be full by now. While out the two of you had formed a trick or treat group with some of the other parents from the school where your daughter attended. It was cute watching the kids talk about their costumes to each other.

“I’m Batman! What are you?”

“Me? Haha, I’m a big giant rat!”

“Well I’m a swamp monster! What about you Tomoko?”

“I’m my daddy!”

[fandomlovingfreak]

If He Never Left (2/?)

Egon Spengler/F!Reader

Series Previous Chapters: Ch1.

Rating: T+ (sexual situations, no explicit smut or descriptions but it’s implied)

Trigger Warning: Lemony situations, no explicit smut but it’s implied.

Word Count: 1846

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: The “what if” / fix-it-fic for my Egon Spengler fic “Before Summerville"

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ghostbusters (sad, I know). This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: OKay, SO I hate writing smut. I hate it so much (I think I’m just not great at it!) So this is as close as I’m getting right now with smut. It’s not explicit and it’s not described. Maybe someday I’ll write smut again, but I just AH I just don’t like the smut I write ahah! I hope you enjoy and I’m so sorry for the wait!

Enjoy

Turns out hiring a moving truck was a brilliant plan. My brilliant plan, it should be noted. The truck, along with two men, arrived about an hour after we did with a truck full of the necessary furniture. That being the baby's furniture mainly.

While packing up the little we had, Egon reminded me over ten times that the realtor told him that the house would come mostly furnished. When we arrived at the rundown Barnhouse, we discovered our idea of mostly furnished vastly differed from the realtor's.

Though it was technically furnished, the furniture was from around the 1940s and in very iffy condition after not being in use for the past twenty years or so.

Luckily, I did have the sense to pack up our dresser and our living room couch, which after taking a look around the house, I'm ecstatic about.

I've spent most of the mid-afternoon directing the movers around the house, Egon escaping to take a look around the land that we purchased with the house.

"Where do you want the crib?" The blond mover asks.

"Up the staircase, the second to last bedroom on the left," I smile at the men, "Thank you again."

"It's no problem, ma'am," the man winks, smiling cheekily at me before they start to carry Callie's crib upstairs.

Shaking my head, I head over to the living room where I left Callie laying on her blue blanket and stuffed toy duck. Peeking over the couch, I see she's happily laying there. Her big beautiful eyes look up at me.

This is exactly why I kept this family together. So she can grow up with both her mother and father in her life. This rundown house and all its issues will be worth it because Callie will grow up in a happy family.

Making my way around the couch, I sit next to her, running my fingers through the little hair she has, "What do you think of the house, darling? It's a little... run down, but daddy and I are going to make sure it's in perfect shape for you.

Callie makes her sweet baby noises, her little pudgy hands grabbing for thin air. She's so perfect, "You're going to grow up running around these fields and working with daddy on whatever experiment has caught his fancy at that moment. It's going to be a happy life."

"Ma'am?" The voice of the mover echoes down the staircase.

Picking up Callie, I make my way to the stairs to shout back, "Yes?"

"Did you have a specific place in the room you want us to put the crib?"

"Oh! Yes, one second," I make my way up the stairs, Callie in my arms, and into the new nursery. "Right by the closet door. Thank you."

The men place the crib down and leave to get some other item of furniture from the truck.

Readjusting Callie in my arms, I take a better look around the room. It's just as rundown as the rest of the house, but the bones are decent enough. Surely, Callie's nursery will end up beautifully with a little focused love and attention. 

"I think we'll paint the walls light blue... and we'll have daddy put up your mobile. That is once we figure out where he went."

Another thing I need to ask Egon about, right after deep cleaning and painting the kitchen. Oh! And purchasing a new kitchen table and bed for our room. The list seems to get longer and longer each time I think of the problems. Callie's room has to be a priority, though. She can't live in this room in its current state.

I sit down in the rocking chair, already exhausted over the growing list. I still have to find a job! And if I can't find a job, I can hardly purchase paint or purchase the bed and table.

"Mommy's already exhausted, and only we've been here two hours," I continue to speak to Callie like she can understand, "We should probably go find your daddy. Stop him from setting up a lab in our kitchen, hmm?"

She yawns widely. I smile at the baby, standing, "Or, we'll put you down for your nap first, and then I'll go find daddy." 

I walk her around the room, telling her of the adventures we'll have in Summerville until she nods off. Careful not to wake her, I walk back down to the main floor to retrieve the baby seat.

Egon surprises me. He's standing in the kitchen, looking out the window towards the fields. Laying Callie down in the baby seat, I make my way towards Egon.

"Callie's asleep." I wrap my arms around his waist, leaning my chin on his shoulder to see what he's looking at. Nothing of significance catches my eye, only the old shed, and fields of gold.

"We should make unpacking the priority tomorrow." 

"And cleaning," I run my hands up his chest, "There's dust in every corner of this house."

He makes a sound of agreement in the back of his throat, "What do you think about the shed?"

"What about the shed?"

Egon maneuvers us, so I'm facing him. His hands rest on my waist, "You don't want the lab in the house, so what do you think about the shed?"

I pull a face, "It's sort of small, isn't it?"

He smirks, "I have a few ideas on how to get around the current size."

"Hopefully, ideas that can happen after we finish up Callie's room?" I smooth down the front of his sweater vest.

"That's on the top of my list," he lightly squeezes my hips.

Laughter escapes my throat, "sure it is."

***

His lips are mine the moment our bedroom door closes, his hands running down my spine and landing on the curve of my ass.

When the movers left, we were able to put the baby to bed, and Egon had successfully coaxed me to our new bedroom. 

The sounds of the house settling and the summer crickets serve as background noise as Egon urgently maneuvers me towards the bed with his insatiable hands moving against my body.

"Egon!" Laughter bubbles up from my chest as he trails sloppy kisses down my throat, "The bed is ancient!" Fingers dip under my worn t-shirt, pulling a groan from me. 

"It's on its last leg." His retort brushes aside my worries for the bed's integrity as he continues his steady seduction, his knuckles brushing against my belly as he pulls the t-shirt further up my abdomen.

"It's dusty," I try again, half-heartedly protesting against what I want. Barely a moment has been spared for intimacy since Callie was born. Sue me, I missed his touch.

Egon pulls the shirt over my head, "It's not that dusty." He lays me down, beginning to unbutton his shirt. It falls to the ground as he climbs over me, settling between my thighs.

"What are you thinking about, Doctor Spengler?" My fingers dance across his abdomen, landing at his belt buckle. A flush rises to his cheeks as my fingers run down the zipper of his pants.

"I'm glad you came with me."

Emotion rushes into my body, "Oh, Egon." Pulling him down by the shoulders, I kiss him. 

***

My heart is full as we lay in bed, my head on his shoulder. He's holding me close, his fingers lazily caressing my waist as we sit in comfortable silence.

"I always find your silences puzzling. What are you thinking about?"

"I'm just happy." I'm still a bit breathless, but I'm not going to admit that to him.

"Happy? Because of our shared sexual pleasure or for a different reason?"

Rolling my eyes, I grin, "Well, yes, but also because we're here together."

"I should've realized this would be better."

Snuggling closer, I drape my arm across his abdomen, getting comfortable in my blissful state, "Do you think we'll be able to make a nice life here? I mean, I don't regret coming with, but this is such a stark contrast to our life in New York."

"It's undoubtedly different."

"Callie won't know anything different," I look up at him, not surprised to see he's watching me, "But I'm excited to see her grow here. Her childhood's going to be so different from mine."

"Yes, small-town life will take some time to get used to, but Callie should be able to adapt easily. Hopefully, the lack of city noise will help her sleep."

I could kiss him. I hadn't even thought about how she may sleep easier without the traffic noise and general city noise. "Oh my god, I hope so."

Egon presses a kiss to 

"What do you think she'll be like?" I press my face against the underside of his jaw, leaving a trail of light kisses.

"Hopefully, she'll be like you."

"Hopefully not when it comes to school." I tease. It would be best if she took after Egon in that respect. 

His fingers tickle as they move up and down my spine, "I want her to be happy."

"She will be. She has us," I press another kiss to his jaw, "What do you think our next step is? I know I'm focusing on the house, and you're going to be busy with... whatever you're doing, but what about us?"

"Logically, marriage."

I sit up, looking at him with wide eyes, "You want to marry me?"

"I drug you across the country, and you bore my child."

I smack his chest lightly, "That's not a good enough reason to get married, Egon."

He grins, "I think it's a decent enough reason. But, if that's not what you want, then I understand."

"It's not like I don't want to get married; I just don't see why we would now just for appearances. We had a baby together and remained unmarried. Why would we choose that route now for appearances alone?"

Egon squeezes my shoulder, "You make good points."

"I know. I usually make good points."

This pulls a chuckle from him. Kissing me again, he pulls me to straddle his hips. Still held tight in his embrace, I run my fingers through his hair, grinning like a fool, "If we're not careful, we'll repeat ourselves, and I'll get pregnant again."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Egon kisses me again, "I have siblings. It would be good for Call--"

I sit up, my eyes wide in surprise, "We do not need another baby right now. Besides, I don't see a ring mister," I hold up my left hand to emphasize this fact, "no ring, no baby." No additional baby, that is.

"I just offered--"

Throwing my hands up, I say, "No! I'm tabling this discussion till I want to have it."

Humor dances in his eyes as he looks up at me. Oh, he's devastatingly handsome; it almost sways me to just agree. We're already practically married anyways... But no, I want him to want to marry me because he wants to, not because we may as well.

[jamesshawgames]

Character Profile: Sam Hopkins

Been a little while since I did one of these… (Also, I’m just starting to realize that most of my characters have some kind of daddy issues,  except Cleo, who had an awesome dad!)

Name: Sam Hopkins

Place of Birth: Columbus, Ohio

Date of Birth: 18 October 1912

Appearance:

Bio: Sam Hopkins is the only child of Philip and Antonia Hopkins, a mechanic and homemaker respectively from Columbus, Ohio. They had a relatively conventional and happy childhood, growing up in living quarters next to the auto garage owner by their father. The garage was solvent but not hugely profitable, meaning that young Sam missed out on the chance to do lots of things that they wanted to do, especially travel, since the family couldn’t afford it. Sam grew into a slightly goofy, klutzy and socially awkward child, but very good-natured and enthusiastic about trying new things. Their favorite kind of escape was to help their dad in the garage, and from a very young age they learned a lot about machines and engines, how they work and how they break, and how to put them together and pull them apart. Their mechanical knowledge and skills would come in handy in their adventures in later life.

At the age of sixteen, Sam announced that they were switching from “she” to “they” pronouns. This was pretty rare back then, and their father had never encountered this before and didn’t really understand what was happening. For the first time in Sam’s life, his reaction was less than completely supportive, and it led to a tense couple of years between them. They’ve mostly patched it up now, but there’s a distance in their relationship which wasn’t there in Sam’s childhood. Sam can never quite forget or forgive the fact that their daddy, who had always been there for them up until that point, wasn’t there for them when it really mattered.

But escape was imminent. Sam did well enough at school to be a viable candidate for a college scholarship and, desperate to see some of the world beyond Ohio, Sam signed up to study in the most different city they could think of, New Orleans. They enrolled at Tulane, intending to major in engineering to pursue their interest in machines, but one semester, on a whim, they took an elective course in the Department of Archaeology, taught by a brilliant young professor called Dr. Spillane. The course fired Sam’s imagination so much that they immediately switched majors and became a serious history and archaeology geek. Spillane took young Sam under their wing. Sam always had a tendency to look for heroes and mentors and people to idolize, perhaps looking for someone to fill the role that their daddy had once filled, but without the disappointment this time. Soon, they latched, limpet-like, onto Spillane, who they saw as clearly the coolest professor around. After graduating summa cum laude, Sam was delighted to be accepted on the archaeology PhD program at Tulane, with their hero Spillane as their thesis supervisor. Their intense attachment to Spillane only grew with increased contact. It’s not really a crush – they find the idea of getting with Spillane pretty icky and inappropriate – but it’s a kind of intellectual and personality-based fixation, and an eagerness for their mentor’s approval. The students who Sam taught as part of their PhD often mocked them behind their back for being a Spillane simp.

It wasn’t only in the classroom and the library where Sam was putting in the work. They were out in the field, too, and it was on one expedition, to British Mandate Palestine, that Sam and Spillane got embroiled in their first adventure together, a race to find a fabled biblical treasure before the Nazis could get their hands on it. In the following years, Sam would be a frequent companion of Spillane on their crazy adventures, seeing action in New Orleans, Congo and Hong Kong alongside their idol. Soon after Hong Kong, Sam completed their PhD and became Dr. Sam Hopkins, and was given a two-year temporary contract to teach at Tulane. But, as Relics 2 comes to its end, Sam’s contract is about to run out, and it doesn’t look like Tulane will extend it. Sam faces the uncertain prospect of having to make a future for themselves apart from their hero and mentor, just as the wider world faces the uncertain prospect of apocalyptic war in Europe. Only time will tell how they can rise to the challenge.