#shaggy blazing star

[whatnext10]

Shaggy Blazing Star is a Beautiful Addition to the Sandhills

Shaggy Blazing Star Is a Beautiful Addition to the Sandhills shows readers this little known species of Liatris or blazing star. It also discusses the plants range, habitats, medicinal uses, and attractiveness to wildlife.

Elegant Some people may think that the sandhills are pretty uninteresting since they tend to be sandy and dry, but they are actually a beautiful and vibrant habitat. Having lived in the sandhills a good while now, I have definitely come to appreciate that fact. I am not a gardener, so I have tried, within reason, to leave my property pretty much as is. I really enjoy seeing the native flora and…

[formlessvoidbeast]

“Obi-Wan,” Jango asked. “How long can you keep running with them?”

Obi-Wan breathed deep, head briefly tipped up to slide his hood free from his shaggy hair. The light of the moon Concordia that shone down on them was bright enough to carve shadows beneath his cheekbones, in the hollows beneath his blazing eyes. His body was whittled down from hardship and exhaustion, clear down to the core of him, and yet he burned. Not like a fire that would fall to ash by the morning, but like a star, endlessly

Obi-Wan smiled, lips thin, skin split and chapped with dehydration. “As long as it takes,” he said. And Jango was the furthest thing from ka'ra-touched but even he could tell that it rang with truth. Obi-Wan would never break, never surrender. Not claimed with the misplaced pride of those who had never been tested, but known with the surety of one who had walked through haran and forged their soul in that terrible crucible.

On instinct, Jango pulled his buy'ce off to meet Obi-Wan's gaze eye to eye. “And if you do not have to?” he asked. “Your enemies are our enemies. The Haat'ade will gladly face them if they come for you.” He closed his eyes briefly. Jango had been told that he had very strong mental shields 'for a force null' but he had from time to time practiced pushing emotions through them for the ka'ra-touched to read. He focused on his respect for all Obi-Wan had done in the past six months. On his desire to help. He thought he must have done it right when Obi-Wan gasped.

“I freely offer you and the Kryze ade safety among my people. Sanctuary,” Jango promised. “Haat, ijaat, haa'it.” He reached his hand out toward Obi-Wan. Waiting.

a light along the path 8k words, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 3)

TW: nothing much in this chapter, maybe aside from a bit of university horrors (ie. exams etc)

votz below

part 4

You ended up avoiding the library at all costs. You don't know if you could face Yves after that first cringeworthy meeting.

You worked your ass off for the exams, yet you simultaneously felt like you haven't prepared for it at all. Today's your last paper.

And you left the hall with a thousand-yard stare, it was the most atrocious one yet. You just hope that the university got burnt down and you will just get your degree instantly. No use in crying over spilt milk.

Might as well use the angst to fuel yourself for an entire day off... cleaning your room. You neglected your hygiene and the clutter buildup during exams, you can barely see the floor anymore.

You muttered curses under your breath as you walked to the bus stop. Instead of darkness, it's the blazing late afternoon sun beating down on you.

Maybe you deserve a little treat. The bus goes to a nearby cheap Chinese takeaway that has a rating of 1.8 stars out of 5 online. That's the most luxurious thing you can afford at the moment and god knows you need a little reward to keep you going.

You grunted as you stood up, feeling the pressure in your knees as you haul your infinitely heavy backpack onto your shoulders.

You entered the bus, it's fairly empty. You sat on a seat and placed your load beside you. Sighing in relief as you get to relax for a bit until your next stop.

You begin to ponder as the bus leaves for its next destination. You definitely have a crush on Yves, who wouldn't? But you think he's too out of your league, trying to go after him will end in heartbreak or rejection. Plus, you can't afford to fail, you're not from a very financially comfortable background in the first place. Yves will only serve as a lethal distraction to you.

You gnaw on your fingernails. But Yves is no doubt attractive, it's just a shame that you're not of equal standing. You don't trust yourself to win him over, he will tolerate you at best, despise you for being a creep at worst.

And you think that his flirtatious tendencies are just part of him. He probably does this to everyone, or he's doing this to you because it's funny to see you squirm.

You frowned, this is not a viable relationship for you at all. No matter how badly you want it to be, it's not going to end well. So you vow to avoid the library as much as you can. If you must go, you have to try to limit any interactions with him and leave immediately after you're done with your business.

You pressed the buzzer to the next stop.

--

It's finally your turn to customize your very own takeaway box. You chose the cheapest possible option, it was hard because there were so many choices to make. The lady over the counter told you to hurry up as you're holding the line.

Once you're done, you fished the loose change from your pocket, only to see that you just have enough for one meal. Better than not enough, you have to make this meal last until tomorrow.

You had to wait in line again to pay at the register. Maybe you should have gone home and enjoyed some instant noodles, this is such a pain in the ass to even get. You have to suffer under the sweltering heat in a hole in the wall restaurant, you can't imagine being the employees here.

"Your meal's been paid for." The cashier monotonously informed you.

Huh?

"Take your meal and move." She bluntly gestured you to leave, handing you your styrofoam container. She paid no attention to you as she went on to collect the money of another customer.

You scratched your head. It's been paid for? Well that's nice, you wonder who was kind enough to do so.

As you inspect the contents of your takeaway and become baffled as to why there's suddenly more items, you notice a shadow looming over you.

You snapped your head up and felt your heart sink down to your stomach.

"Hello." He smiled, giving you an awkward wave before brushing his shaggy brown hair back. "Fancy meetin' you here."

He looks so much better not covered in his own vomit. The stranger is wearing a high Vis jacket that's been stained by wall paint. His sleeves were dusty and he had some dirt smears on his boots.

You greeted him too. You asked if he was the one who paid for your lunch. He nodded.

"Thanks for saving me that night. I wouldn't be here without you." Your eyes landed on his free hand which is subconsciously cradling his side.

You asked him about his rib. He lets out chuckle, telling you it's fine.

"How are your exams?"

Oh.

He remembered. That isn't good.

You said that it's bad. But you will live. You said you have to go, and expressed your gratitude towards him for taking care of lunch.

"Where to? Let me give you a ride." He offered, readying his car keys in his hands.

You said that it's not needed, you don't want to take up more of his time. And it's also because you don't trust this man.

"No, really. I'll take you where you want to go. It's blazin' outside and I have air conditioning in my car. I'm done workin' for the day too."

Now that sounds exponentially enticing.

You have a feeling that he isn't going to leave you alone no matter how many times you reject him. And with your braincells fried from your exams, your safety instincts were dulled. All you want to do is eat now.

He must have noticed your growling stomach. Because he offered to eat in his car first, the driving can wait.

--

"Hungry, huh?" He commented as he watches you scarf down your order. Including the extra meat and vegetables that Montgomery requested to be added to yours. He barely gets a couple spoons of his chicken fried rice in, and you're already done with half of yours.

You nodded. Focusing on shovelling in as much food as you could.

"You don't usually get to eat much, do ya?"

You shook your head. Not noticing the look of pity on his face.

You enjoyed having the cool wind blowing on you, for once this summer, you didn't have to sweat like a pig. You wished that he could have cleaned his car up a bit though. It was a mess, the entire back seat was basically unusable. His car looked beaten up and rusty on the outside.

You and him ate in silence after that. If you weren't starving, you would have tried getting out of the car due to its crippling awkwardness. You think he's uncomfortable in the quietness too, but it's the opposite. He found peace and the constant loneliness he feels isn't around to bother him today. He just enjoys your presence, even though he doesn't know your real name.

Unbeknownst to you, Montgomery thinks you shared a special connection with him. Two lost souls trying to find their footing in this world, facing problems that are different yet similar. Neither of you are perfect, but you're not like the rest of the people he met who were apathetic and sickeningly artificial. You are real. You have a personality that you struggle to hide, just like him.

Montgomery's delusions and desperation have made him think you were meant to be with him- a godsend. You just can't see it yet, but he is perfect for you. And he's going to be patient and persistent, he doesn't want to scare you off.

"Oh- you're done." He noted as you closed your box and put it on your lap. You wiped your mouth using the sleeve of your shirt. He grimaced at the grease stain.

"I have napkins right here!" He pointed at the dented tissue box tucked under his radio. You're surprised that this bothered him when the state of his car and the conditions of his work were inherently dirty.

You shrugged and took a big gulp of the soda Montgomery bought for you.

You burped in your hand and muttered an "excuse me". He asked if you're full, you nodded in response.

"Well, I'm glad you're fed. Is there anything else I could get ya? Ice cream? Pie? Some cake?"

You said no, you have to go somewhere.

He closed his styrofoam container and tossed it to the back. He gripped his steering wheel and positioned his feet on the pedal.

"Where to?" Montgomery stared at you expectedly.

You took a moment to think and weigh your options.

[hustlenbustle]

John Milton

Lycidas

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more

Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,

I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,

And with forc'd fingers rude

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear

Compels me to disturb your season due;

For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,

Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.

Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

He must not float upon his wat'ry bier

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,

Without the meed of some melodious tear.

      Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well

That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;

Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.

Hence with denial vain and coy excuse!

So may some gentle muse

With lucky words favour my destin'd urn,

And as he passes turn

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!

      For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill,

Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;

Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd

Under the opening eyelids of the morn,

We drove afield, and both together heard

What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,

Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,

Oft till the star that rose at ev'ning bright

Toward heav'n's descent had slop'd his westering wheel.

Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,

Temper'd to th'oaten flute;

Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel,

From the glad sound would not be absent long;

And old Damætas lov'd to hear our song.

      But O the heavy change now thou art gone,

Now thou art gone, and never must return!

Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,

With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,

And all their echoes mourn.

The willows and the hazel copses green

Shall now no more be seen

Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.

As killing as the canker to the rose,

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,

Or frost to flowers that their gay wardrobe wear

When first the white thorn blows:

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.

      Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep

Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas?

For neither were ye playing on the steep

Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,

Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.

Ay me! I fondly dream

Had ye bin there'—for what could that have done?

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,

The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,

Whom universal nature did lament,

When by the rout that made the hideous roar

His gory visage down the stream was sent,

Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?

      Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade,

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?

Were it not better done, as others use,

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise

(That last infirmity of noble mind)

To scorn delights and live laborious days;

But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,

And think to burst out into sudden blaze,

Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears,

And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise,"

Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears;

"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

Nor in the glistering foil

Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies,

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;

As he pronounces lastly on each deed,

Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed."

      O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood,

Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds,

That strain I heard was of a higher mood.

But now my oat proceeds,

And listens to the Herald of the Sea,

That came in Neptune's plea.

He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,

"What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?"

And question'd every gust of rugged wings

That blows from off each beaked promontory.

They knew not of his story;

And sage Hippotades their answer brings,

That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd;

The air was calm, and on the level brine

Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark,

Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,

That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

      Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,

His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,

Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge

Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.

"Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?"

Last came, and last did go,

The Pilot of the Galilean lake;

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).

He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:

"How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,

Enow of such as for their bellies' sake

Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?

Of other care they little reck'ning make

Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast

And shove away the worthy bidden guest.

Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold

A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!

What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;

And when they list their lean and flashy songs

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw,

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,

But, swoll'n with wind and the rank mist they draw,

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;

Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw

Daily devours apace, and nothing said,

But that two-handed engine at the door

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more".

      Return, Alpheus: the dread voice is past

That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,

And call the vales and bid them hither cast

Their bells and flow'rets of a thousand hues.

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use

Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,

On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,

Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,

That on the green turf suck the honied showers

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,

The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,

The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine,

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,

And every flower that sad embroidery wears;

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,

To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.

For so to interpose a little ease,

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.

Ay me! Whilst thee the shores and sounding seas

Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd;

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,

Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide

Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world,

Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,

Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,

Where the great vision of the guarded mount

Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold:

Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth;

And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

      Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,

For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,

Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor;

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high

Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves;

Where, other groves and other streams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,

In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.

There entertain him all the Saints above,

In solemn troops, and sweet societies,

That sing, and singing in their glory move,

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.

Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more:

Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,

In thy large recompense, and shalt be good

To all that wander in that perilous flood.

      Thus sang the uncouth swain to th'oaks and rills,

While the still morn went out with sandals gray;

He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,

With eager thought warbling his Doric lay;

And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills,

And now was dropp'd into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:

To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

E.M 2024

[c3llybaby]

𝐢𝐢𝐢. ✭ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

MAY, 1977; CHANCE

(Excerpt)

"Can we not do this in front of Chance? Please." Daddy was blazing behind her, trying to reason with someone who had none. "Please, Misty." Then his voice dropped to a quiet hush. One that my cursed ears still found easy to pick up. "We can send her to go get an ice cream-"

"Why? So that when she comes home she won't find her mother?" Snapped Mama, shoveling random articles into a duffle. "I'm not gonna lie to her, Thomas. I'm not gonna leave her without an explanation."

"What kind of explanation are you going to tell her?!" Now Daddy's voice was straining, reaching a volume it never had before had. "I'm following my dreams of doing fucking drugs and living on the street!" His voice cracked at the end, warbling with the same ring of a person on the verge of tears.

"Oh just shut up!" Roared Mama, her shouting striking fear into my bones. "Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything about anything!" I made pictures out of the grains on the kitchen table's wood. I traced out the sun, moon, stars, and planets. "You don't even know what it's like to live!"

"Nine...ten..." I tried focusing on my breathing, sucking in tremulous breaths of air. "Eleven...twelve..." Footsteps thudded against the shaggy carpet. Mama's Reeboks stood before me, then she was kneeling down to meet my eyes. She grabbed me by my shoulders, her hold clammy.

"Chance, Baby, this isn't gonna make much sense right now but one day you'll get it. One day you're gonna understand." She pushed back my baby hairs, jittery fingers running over my hairline. "I know 'cus you're special." Mama leaned in to whisper in my ear, her moist cheek pressed against mine. "You're like me. You're my star girl. I knew it when you were born. I knew you were special." Trying to hide my lurching body and sniffles made my fists ball up. "I gotta split but just know...I love you, Baby." She hugged me then. A short hug followed by a kiss on my cheek. Then, just as she'd promised, she scooped up her bag and split.

Vision shaking, I continued counting. My sad self sat hunched over those beads for the next hour, my daddy crying pitifully in his room. That was the only time I heard him sob that large man-kind of sob. The kind that meant that the world was over, life was shit, and hope had been extinguished.

SEPTEMBER, 1985; CHANCE

(Excerpt)

Background Music ———————————— -Eyes Without A Face by Billy Idol- ⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

The weirdo from history took a seat opposite me. The only thing he had on his lunch tray was chocolate milk, french fries, and jello, yet another strange thing about the boy who wouldn't leave me alone.

"That seat's taken," I said brusquely, unwrapping my sandwich. Those pesky eyes he had kept raking over me, a lively twinkle shining in them. Ketchup spurted onto my sandwich. Condiments made school lunch slightly more edible.

"It is?" The boy asked cheekily, eyes wide as saucers. His fingers peeled back the jello's foil lid.

"Mhm." Humming my response, I took an arrogant bite from my almost chicken sandwich. "In fact, whole table's taken."

"That sucks for me." His lack of remorse only angered me. He had gotten me chastised in front of the entire class. He was dressed like a punk and he wouldn't leave me alone. On top of that, dear, God, was the boy annoying. "But I guess you don't mind if I keep you company till your friends join you."

"I'm full on company at the moment, thank you," I told him icily, watching him crack open his milk carton. He flipped his view back to my face, a jubilant smile stretching from ear to ear. The boy watched me like some freaky arsonist playing voyeur to a bonfire.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" He had to stifle his laughter with french fries.

"What's so damn funny?" I set down my sandwich, wiping stray ketchup off of my upper lip. "Huh? What you laughing about, Boy?" I could feel my irritation heating up my neck, vexation scalding the skin. "Tell me what's so God damn funny."

He only shook his head, that maddening smile flashing his teeth. "What's so funny is that you really don't remember me. I mean, how the hell could you forget your best friend?"

"I don't know you. Ain't that clear?! I do not know you!"

"But you did." The boy tilted back on the lunch table's bench, chin raised up. "You did know me. Except I was shorter and scrawny and quiet and a loner and a freak." He jabbed a finger toward me, eyes flaming. "A freak you were best friends with."

Who could he be referring to? What was he talking about? Unless...I fiddled around with my orange, pressing my palm against its citrus peel flesh. No, he couldn't be him. He was different. But then again, where the hell was Eddie?

"Are you-?"

BOYISH//EDDIEMUNSONXOC FANFICTION

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄 ᴏꜰ ᴇʟ ᴘᴀꜱᴏ, ᴛᴇxᴀꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴡᴋɪɴꜱ, ɪɴᴅɪᴀɴᴀ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ. ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴɪᴏʀ ɪɴ ʜɪɢʜꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴛʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟʟʏᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʀꜱᴜᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴏᴍ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ. ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ.

𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɪᴅꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ꜱᴏ ᴡʜʏ ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ʟᴇꜱꜱ, ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜᴅᴀᴄɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ.

Go to my Wattpad to find the full story! : C3llybaby

The work is the same title of this post, I'm mainly using Tumblr to post short excerpts from each chapter in order to advertise!

★☆ ────── 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖎𝖘𝖍 ────── 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞

❝ 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, ❞

❝ 𝘚𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 ❞

── 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐬𝐡 • 𝐣𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭

｡･ﾟﾟ･　TROPES　･ﾟﾟ･｡

◦ Childhood friends to strangers ◦ Strangers to enemies ◦ Enemies to friends ◦ Friends to lovers ◦ Love triangle ◦ Lust for fame ◦ Parental Issues ◦ Freak + Freak

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒ TRIGGER WARNING Contains themes of... ┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚ ◦ Blood ◦ Gore ◦ Fear ◦ Swearing ◦ Death ◦ Mention of suicide ◦ Drugs ◦ Rare use of gay slurs

*＊✿❀ DO NOT READ IF ❀✿＊*

You're xenophobic, racist, colorist, sexist, homophobic, or transphobic. Kindly, suck my dick.

ﾟ+*:;;:*　SOCIALS　*:;;:*+ﾟ ◦ TikTok: C3llybaby.wp ◦ Snapchat: Celestethat1kid ◦ Spotify: Notsoquirkykid

Wattpad: C3llybaby

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE! ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

• Hello, my name is Celeste and I'm so happy that you chose to click on my book! I hope you'll enjoy what you read and know that I love interacting with my readers, whether by DM's, Posting on my message board, or sending me art/edits of my stories. I love each and every one of you dearly. Happy reading, Love!

Yours truly, Celeste

• Disclaimer: I'm aware that in canon Eddie was held back a couple years and he's a super senior. However I changed it so that he was never held back and that he is a seventeen year old teenage boy.

★☆

MY BOUNDARIES (AKA THE SIN LIST) - Please do not advertise your Eddie Munson fan fiction. Someone did this in like the first chapter and said something like "If anyone gets bored this is my Eddie fanfic...blah blah blah" and it really rubbbed me the wrong way. Other characters are completely fine! -Please do not use slurs if you are not from the group that the slur has been used against -Please do not comment that my characters are cringy/embarrassing. This has been happening in the first chapters of BOYISH because Chance is not nice to Eddie when they first meet. It's an enemies-to-lovers story, Babe, what did you expect? Saying that my characters are cringy/ embarrassing makes me feel like you are saying that my writing is cringy/embarrassing. If you have a thought or problem with how I write, please by all means channel it into constructive criticism. I put a lot of time and effort into this story and I do not want to be made to feel bad about it.

[kittycqts]

Everyone's description from the book (the Curtis Gang)

For anyone who needs it.

Darrel 'Darry' Curtis

Darry is 6"2 with broad, muscular shoulders. He had dark-brown hair that kicks in the front and a slight cowlick in the back (just like his father's). He has pale blue-green eyes, almost like peices of ice. They have a determined set to them, just like the rest of him. He looks older than his age, but he's tough, cool and smart. "He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold." He doesn't understand anything but hard fact, but he uses his head.

Sodapop 'Soda' Curtis

He's handsome, not like Darry. Hes movie-star handsome, "the kind people stop on the street to watch go by." He's not as tall as Darry, he's slimmer with a finely drawn, sensitive face. His face somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time. He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back--- long silky and straight. In the summer the sun bleaches it to a shining wheat gold. His eyes are a dark brown--- lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes. His eyes can be gentle and sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next. He has his father's eyes, but Soda is one of a kind. He can get drunk on plain living. And he understands everybody.

Ponyboy 'Pony' Curtis

He has light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-grey eyes. His hair is longer than most boys wear theirs, squared off in the back and long at the front and sides.

Steve Randle

He is seventeen, tall and lean. He has thick, greasy hair He kept combed in complicated swirls. He was tacky and smart. Steve's specialty was cars, he knew cars upside-down and backwards, he could drive anything on wheels. He works at the same gas station as Soda, Steve part-time and Soda full-time. Steve is Soda's best friend, he has known him since grade school.

Keith 'Two-bit' Mathews

He's the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. He's about six feet tall, stocky in build, and very proud of his long rusty colored sideburns. He has grey eyes and a wide grin. He couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life. He always had to get his two-bits worth in, hence his name. Life was one big joke to Two-bit. He was famous for shoplifting and his black-handle switchblade (which is stolen). He's always smarting off to the cops. He liked fights, blondes, and school. He is still a junior at 18 and a half and never learned anything.

Dallas 'Dally' Winston

He has an elfish face, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, small sharp animal teeth and ears like a lynx. His hair is almost white because it was so blonde. He doesn't like haircuts or hair oil either. His hair falls over his forehead in wisp and kicked out in the back in tufts and curled behind his ears and along the nape of his neck. His eyes are blue, like blazing ice with " a cold hatred of the world". He has spent 3 years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten. He was tougher than the rest of the gang, tougher, colder, and meaner. The shade of difference that separates a greaser from a hood wasn't present in Dally. He was wild, like Tim Shepard's gang.

Johnny Cade

He was the last and least of the gang. You can picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, you'll have Johnny. He is the youngest next to Pony. He was smaller than the rest, with a slight build. He has big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long it fell as shaggy bangs across his forehead. He has a nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, the beatings he got from the socs didn't help that. He is the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother. His father was always beating him up and his mother ignored him. You could hear his mother yelling at him from the Curtis house. He would have ran away millions of times if it weren't for the gang.

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

��Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[queenmuzz]

Heat of the Moment

A Dante x Reader Valentine’s Day Special!

Your mom had always told everyone, in a disapproving tone, that you were too impulsive for your own good.  You darted into the road to get a runaway ball.  You bought that awesome looking jacket, without checking to see if it was on sale.  And now, because you were craving pizza, and didn’t want to shell out the four bucks extra for delivery, you were in a mighty fine pickle.

You decided that taking the deserted looking street at near midnight, just to shave a few minutes off your walk to Angelo’s Pizzeria was a perfectly splendid idea.  So splendid, you didn’t notice the shadowy figures following you, until you were grabbed from behind, and a cloth covered with some sort of chemical was placed over your screaming mouth.

So now, here you stood, or rather...laid, on cold grey stone, that seemed to leech all warmth away from your flesh.  It was still dark, but illuminated by torches, you seemed to be surrounded by columns of stone, like you were in some knock off kid sized version of Stonehenge.  You immediately attempted to get up, only to find to your irritation, your wrists and ankles were bound by industrial grade chains.   

“The offering has awoken!” called out a woman’s voice, and from the darkness, like the damn Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings, nine cloaked figures came out of the darkness.  You tried to make out their faces, but both their pitch black cloaks, and blood red masks hid everything about them.

“Brothers and Sisters, we are gathered here tonight to call forth from the very bones of the earth, a power far greater than any human can imagine.  The stars have aligned, the incense has been lit.  All now,” she motioned to the cultist beside her, who handed her a leatherbound book, “Is to speak the incantations, and complete the rituals.”

And then, with the help of her assistant, the group began to chant.  You had no idea of what was being spoken, but it sounded Latin. 

“Really... Latin?  Guys, there are a tonne of other languages you could use!  What happened to originality?!” you grumbled, but while you could feel their glares, none stopped their inane chants

Upon each pillar,  a letter lit up, one at a time.  You couldn’t recognize the script, but it looked like a five year old’s attempt to write Hebrew. For some reason, that irked you. This makes no sense.  Latin is an Indo-European language, and Hebrew is a totally different family! These idiots are mixing everything up!.

But the incantation seemed to do the trick, and the flames grew, and changed to a sickly green colour.  And now, all these cultists raised their arms in exultation 

“Lord of the Underworld, we present you this offering, a Virgin Offering, for you to consume!” The lead cultist chanted.

“Wait!” you blurted out, in a desperate attempt to avert your fate, “I’m not a virgin!  I’ve had sex before, dozens...no, hundreds of times!”

Her assistant leaned over you, their mask barely concealing his skepticism.

“Name one person you have laid with,” he tested.

“Well…” Your mind was blank, and so you went with the first thing that shot through your brain.

“Your mom, for starters.”

You could have slapped yourself for such a dumb comeback, had your wrists not being tied up, but you needn’t have worried about not getting slapped.  The cultist’s lips twisted into a snarl, and you felt white hot pain radiating from your cheek, and the taste of blood filling your mouth.  Even though it hurt like hell, one part of you was mentally high fiving at that comeback.  His hand raised up one more time, to give another strike, but the leader quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Calm yourself, brother… the offering must remain undamaged. Besides,” and you could swear you  heard a smirk in her voice, “It’s not their body that must be virginal, it’s the blood.”

Well shit, you thought, as you placed your burning cheek against the cool stone to relieve the pain.  

The ritual continued.  “We humble servants provide both the firstfruits of this offering to open the way.”  The woman took out a jet black dagger, and approached you with steady steps.  Would she cut out your heart, Temple of Doom style?  Rip out your entrails?  Slit your throat?  All you could hope was that it would be quick and painless.  

What you hadn’t expected was for her to grab one of your restrained hands and with surprisingly gentleness placed the edge of the obsidian blades against your palm.

As she dragged the razor sharp edge, a line of crimson bloomed, like a trail of bubbles.  It almost didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t help but get upset.  All this pomp and ceremony, and they were just giving you a cut that would irritate you for weeks...if you lived that long. Whatever happens, you said as the cultist began using your blood to paint the two largest stone pillars, in a perverse parody of the Passover ritual, I hope whatever these bastards are summoning crushes them.

“COME FORTH!” The whole group chanted in unison, “Taste the blood… DEVOUR THE FLESH!”

And without warning, the blood...YOUR blood, burst into flame, racing up the pillars as if gasoline had been pumping through your veins.  At the top, the flames connected and  formed a gateway...a hellgate.  And within it, an orb, an inferno expanded...and a roar that sounded nothing like any earthbound animal emanated.

And then, an explosion of heat and sulfur knocked down the stones, and the cultists, sending the leader flying back several feet.  Only you, chained to the granite altar, remained in place.

You squinted as the searing light dissipated.  Among the now dying flames stood, or hovered… a demonic sight.  You could swear you saw the air distort from the heat that seemed to generate from within his chest.  Four leathery wings splayed out, the inner skin swirling designs constantly shifting, almost hypnotising.  And the horns!  A good foot long that curved  and twisted, glowing like charred wood both above and around his face. A face that reminded what was in front of you.  A demon.  Teeth as long and sharp as paring knives, eyes glowing like the pits of hell.  As if Satan himself had come up from the depths.  And for all you knew… he probably had.

You heard the sound of crumpled paper.  “Oh man,” the demon rumbled, his voice distorted by the sound of the exhaust coming from between his teeth, “I was just getting to the good part…”

“Oh Great and Powerful Lord…”  the devil stared at the surrounding area, at the the cultists that had recovered began following their leader’s motions and bowed prostrate on the ground, and you still chained.  It was hard to make out his expression, but it seemed like...surprise?

 “We are your most humble servants,” the leader continued,  “All we ask...is a scrap of your power...a trifle for one such as you, as payment for summoning you..My Lord?”

The demon didn’t even spare a second glance as he strode past her, past the other shrouded forms, and made a beeline towards you.  This was it, you thought, time to come up with a witty parting remark. But of course, your impulsive nature wouldn’t cooperate right now.  At least the demon seemed to be the ‘fire and fury’ style, he would probably consume you quickly.

He towered over you, and even now, the stone, which had been ice cold the entire time, began to heat up beneath you...sweat, both from terror, and the inferno looming above you,  beaded on your forehead.  

“My Lord?” the assistant asked, “Is the offering suitable for your arrival?  They have a wicked tongue, but they are perfect for summoning.

“I think you got it all wrong buddy,” the demon turned his eyes on the unholy congregation, and strangely, a chill appeared in the air, “You guys didn’t summon me….” A razor claw extended out and pointed at you, “THEY did… and if they summoned me…” the cultists slowly became aware of what he was implying, the quicker ones started making a run for it, “YOU guys must be the offering!  Who’s volunteering first?”

The answer was nine sets of panicking feet trying to sprint out of the stone circle.  The demon glanced back at you, “You might want to cover your eyes for this, it’s gonna get a little messy,” and with the speed of a racing forest fire, he charged, blades of superheated air swirling around him.  

The scream of the lead cultist was enough for you to clench your eyes shut, and then followed by a multiple of cries of terror and death, as the coppery scent of blood, not your own this time, scented the air.

A few minutes later, there was nothing but silence, except the sound of boots on gravel.  You couldn’t help it, you took a peek.

Instead of the cultists, or the demon, there was just a guy, shaggy white haired, with a worn t-shirt that clung juuuuust right against his broad chest, and a smile on his face.  You looked around, trying to find either a surviving cultist, or the demon, but all you could see in the darkness were void black shapes, lying on the grounds, their robes moving slightly in the breeze.

“That can’t be comfortable, let’s get you out of there,” the man said, and without a hint of effort, he gently grasped your hands, and with the other, he gave a quick yank.  Immediately the sound of snapping metal, and to your amazement, your arms were free.  And if you had thought he had done a sleight of hand with those chains, the way he effortlessly ripped the chains around your ankles off immediately clued you in that this man was more than he seemed.

You rubbed your wrists as you slowly sat up, staring at him. “Who are...you?”

“Ah, yeah...forgot to introduce myself in the whole hubbub.  Cultists always ruining get togethers.”  He stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”  And as you shook his hand, with your uninjured one, you noticed that for a brief moment,  his eyes momentarily glowed red, like embers.  Embers that had once been blazing coals.

He must have seen the flash of panic in your eyes, because he backed away, his hands raised in surrender. 

“Don’t worry!  I ain’t going to hurt you… yeah, I’m the demon those jackasses called for” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I’m not the ‘MUST RULE THE WORLD’ type, I usually am the one people call to get rid of what was being summoned, not actually BEING the ‘sommonee.’  Wait, is that the correct term?”  He paused for a moment to think it over, before he seemed to come back to the present. “Anyways, I was just relaxing in my office, reading a magazine, and then POOF, I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people with horrible sense of fashion.  Speaking of my magazine...where did I put it?”

You saw the magazine, its pages fluttering in the wind, and picked it up.  A copy of ‘Half Cocked’, and on its cover, a buxom young brunette was getting a bit too friendly with a revolver,  alongside a well toned man wearing little more than a bandolier.

“Oh thanks!… that” he quickly snatched it out of your hands,  “I read it mainly for the articles…” he explained lamely, before hurriedly shoving it in his back pocket, as he looked you up and down. “Besides...I got a feeling I won’t need it much anymore…”  And in the flaming remnants of ritual, you swore you saw him turn a shade of pink...although that could just be the fire.

“Welp,”  He stretched, “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?  All that work made me famished.”

You had no idea where the hell you were, but you were still ravenously hungry.  Which reminded you how you got into this mess in the first place.

“I could go for some pizza or-”

You felt a blaze of warmth, and suddenly you felt your legs swept under you, and you looked up at Dante, now back to his demonic form carrying you bridal style.  But no longer did it strike fear in you, just a sense of awe...and admiration

“You truly know how to get to this demon’s heart,” he practically purred, and with a slight grunt, he leapt up and started flying towards the nearest collection of lights on the horizon.  “Pizza it is, then!”

Despite the remnant of chill from spending God knows how long on that stone, and the brisk breeze of the upper atmosphere blowing past you, you didn’t feel a little bit cold. It was like being held by a flying furnace.

“You know Dante….” you spoke, barely audible above the wind.

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty hot.”  Instantly, you realized what you had said, and would have preferred him to just drop you to your death at this very moment.

You heard him chuckle.

“Yeah, this form runs a bit warm….”

And even though he didn’t say it, you were almost certain he knew exactly what you meant.

[sithsecrets]

vows | din djarin x reader

with the armorer’s blessing, you and din marry in a place more beautiful than any other you’ve ever been to.

---

2.7k words

mentions: sex, fem! rea`der, marriage customs/wedding customs, lots of fluff, happy crying, big wedding presents!

this is part 7 of my valentine’s week series! read the other parts here!

---

“You’re sure you don’t mind keeping him for a couple more days?” you ask Cara, bouncing the baby lightly in your arms.

“’Course not,” she says with a shrug, perpetually unbothered in a way you’ve always envied. “He’s good company and an even better wingman. You should see how women flock to me in the bazaar when I’ve got him on my shoulder.”

You roll your eyes at that, mock-perturbed, but you give Cara the baby when she reaches for him anyway, glad to know he’ll be in good hands while you and Din are… wherever he’s going to take you.

The details are all of this are still hazy to you, and you’ve been thrumming with nervous energy since the Crest touched down on Nevarro. With the Armorer on board, you and Din are free to marry… whenever. The way Din explains it, the two of you could duck into a supply closet right now and come out five minutes later as husband and wife. You’re not going to do that, of course, but you could, and the idea is kind of freaking you out. Seeing the Child has soothed you a little bit, though you’re still worried about imposing on you and Din’s little circle of friends.

“If you get sick of taking care of him, Cara, you can send me and Din a comm. We only need—”

“What you need,” Cara cuts, hiking the baby up on her hip, “is to get married, say that you love each other, and then proceed to have wild sex for the rest of the weekend. The kid is fine with me, really. Don’t worry about me, or him, or anybody else. Just focus on your husband.”

You blush at the tease in Cara’s voice, still unaccustomed to her frank, vaguely crass nature after all this time. Leaning down, you give the baby one last kiss on his green little face, whispering that you love him before you pull away. He seems unphased by any of this, far more focused on entertaining Aunt Cara. Apparently, the two of them are joined at the hip now, a fact that, by all accounts, has made Greef insanely jealous.

“Everything good?”

Din’s voice catches your attention, and not one second later do you feel his hand on your back. He comes to stand beside you, looking between you, Cara, and the baby.

“Everything’s great,” Cara tells him. “Your girl here is just worried that the both of you are putting me out by asking me to watch the kid for a couple of days. As if me and him aren’t going to have the best time, right, dude?”

As if to emphasize her point, the Child gurgles and cries out in excitement. Din reaches out to hold his little hand, gentle and affectionate, but his voice is frank through the vocoder.

“Make sure he’s asleep before you bring a girl over, Cara.”

Cara gives him a shove, mock offended. “Go get married before I change my mind, tin can.” But she’s smiling as she says it, and Din huffs out a laugh.

---

The sun is beginning to set by the time you and Din make it to your destination, every inch of the horizon blazing bright orange. The walk here wasn’t a long one, the little house you’ve come to located just outside the city, and yet you still feel like you’re a million miles away from the rest of the world. There’s a lot of space around you, open ground with any and all neighbors far off in either direction. You never knew there were houses out here, but then again, it’s not like you ever proclaimed to be an expert on Nevarro.

Before you can ask, Din’s already typing in the door’s passcode, letting you walk in before him when it clicks open. You come into a teeny entranceway, the house’s front room laid out before you. Off to your left is the kitchen, and then a hall the rest of the rooms past that. It’s by no means a palace, but you don’t care— it’s a sweet little place, perfect for you and Din’s needs. Neither one of you has a liking for fussy spaces, and this certainly isn’t that.

Off the hall past the kitchen lies two bedrooms, one with an attached bathroom and one without. A second bathroom sits at the back of the hall, and then there’s not much more to see after that. A pantry, a small storage closet in the front room— nothing about this place is extra, everything has a purpose. Even the furniture, or what little there is to be found is plain and practical. No decorations, not even much technology— just a simple little house, bare and basic.

“Who did you rent this place from?” you say to Din, peeking in the kitchen cabinets to see what you can find. A few pots and pans, a set of dishes, silverware… There’s even some food in the refrigerator, enough for you to cook a few meals this weekend.

“It’s not a rental,” Din replies, stock-still in the living room, “it’s ours.”

You stop dead in the kitchen, one hand still on the handle of an empty drawer. Slowly, every so slowly, you turn around, heart hammering in your throat.

“What?” is all you manage to say, voice so small in the— in your kitchen.

“It’s ours, cyare.” Din takes a step closer, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I bought it for a few months ago. Greef helped me get a good price. It took some time, but I finally got all the furniture and the pots and dishes for the kitchen. I didn’t— I don’t know anything about decorating, so I didn’t so that. I figured I couldn’t pick out everything anyway, you know, since it’s not just my home.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to Din speak, and… and you just don’t know what to say. Suddenly, everything around you seems infinitely more precious, infinitely more splendid. The little table and chairs, the couch in the living room, the forks in the silverware drawer— all of it was picked out by Din, all of it’s for you.

“I know we never discussed getting a place like this, but we can’t live on the Crest forever. You and the baby deserve stability, and if we have other children… I want us to have a life, cyar’ika, a real life. But if you don’t like it, I can… we don’t have to come here. The Crest will still be our place, I mean.”

All you can do is laugh through your tears and throw up your hands, amazed. “Din,” you declare, “I just…”

Din won’t come to you, it seems, and so you go to him, wrapping him up in your arms. The warmth of your embrace pales in comparison to what’s in your heart, but it’s all you have for him at the moment.

“What do I say?” you ask, finally stepping back after what feels like an eternity. You swipe at your cheeks and sniffle, trying to get yourself together just the slightest bit. People cry through their vows all the time, but you don’t want to.

“What?”

You look at him. “What do I say, Din?”

He acts surprised, like he forgot why the two of you came here in the first place. “Oh! Right. You, um— Just give me a minute.”

Din turns his back on you, headed for the door. He throws two locks there, moving to the windows next. There’s two sets of shutters on all of them, and Din closes them firmly, even flitting off into the other rooms to presumably repeat the action there. You allow him this little ritual, not saying a word even as your excitement builds and builds. You could float if you wanted to, you think, so giddy and anxious and full of feelings that it’s a wonder they aren’t pouring out of your ears.

After a couple of minutes, Din returns, nerves showing in his voice as he asks you for your help. “I— I want to be me when you see my face. No armor, just… just me in my clothes, nothing else.”

You say yes, of course, and then you’re fiddling with straps and struggling with buckles. This part you’ve done at least fifty times before, well acquainted by now with the process of getting Din out of his armor. It takes more than a few minutes, but then the two of you are done, face-to-face in the kitchen. The light is dim, just two lamps throwing their warm glow onto the walls of your house, but you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

“Din,” you say softly, repeating yourself one last time, “what do I say?”

The string of Mando’a that comes out of his mouth is long and complicated, all the words twisted together on his expert tongue. You laugh before he’s even through saying it, reaching out to grab his hands.

“A little slower, please,” you murmur, “and maybe in parts?”

Din laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and then he’s breaking down the phrases for you. You set your face now, serious as you speak these sacred words into the air of your little home. Finally, it’s Din’s turn, and you think the vows sound so much better coming out of his mouth.

“Mhi solus tome,” he says to you, the words honey on his lips, “mhi solus dar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

We are one when together, we are one when parted. We will share all. We will raise warriors.

The weight of what’s just passed between you settles like a soft, warm blanket on your heart. Din is your husband, it’s finally happened, and now you feel rightly and truly at home. There’s one thing left to do, the action that will complete this ritual, but it’ll only be right if Din does it.

It feels surreal to watch him raise his hands, to stand there as he grasps the sides of his helmet and pulls upward. Slowly, ever so slowly, your husband’s face is revealed to you. First his chin, and then his nose, and then… and then….

Din is beautiful. Beautiful, and terrified. The fear in his eyes is plain, the shaky quality of his breath only serving to show you how scared he is. You should comfort him, you know, you should reach out and hug him, tell him it’s alright, but… But you’re just so mesmerized by him, transfixed on all the features you’ve felt but never seen. The curve of Din’s nose, the slant of his mouth… You knew his hair was shaggy, but this wasn’t the length you were picturing! He looks so different than you thought, and yet you weren’t expecting anything less than the man that stands before you now. Stars, he’s so handsome, so… so… perfect. Din is perfect.

Miracle of miracles, even with as terrified as he is, it’s Din who speaks first.

“I think now would be a good time to tell you that there’s no take-backs on the vows.”

The joke fills your chest with warmth. “Not even if I had my fingers crossed behind my back?”

Din shakes his head, and you laugh, fingers twitching at your sides. You want to badly to touch him, to lean up and kiss him and put your hands in his hair while you do it, but you’d sooner die than frighten him any more than he already is. No, you need to be careful right now, careful like you were the very first time you two laid down together in the dark all those days ago. Din had been scared then too, shaking under your hands as you touched parts of him that no one had felt in years— maybe ever, if you’re being honest. This is going to be no different, that much you can tell.

“Can I touch your face?”

Din nods, tracking every movement of your hands as you bring it up to his cheek. He flinches when your fingers make contact, but you soothe him through it, stroking the hair on his jaw, tracing the curve of his eyebrow. No one’s more shocked than you when Din takes your hand in his own, twisting it until your palm is flat on his cheek. You can’t help but laugh— Din has always liked that.

“You alright?” you ask, relieved when Din nods against your hand.

“As long as you’re not regretting all your decisions, then yes.”

“No regrets here,” you affirm. You look him up and down then, deciding that the time for talking is coming to an end. “Are there sheets on the bed?”

It’s in this moment you realize that Din has his hands on your waist, and the tightening of his grip makes your heart jump. “Mhm,” he hums. “Made it up for us when we dropped the baby off the first time.”

“Take me there, then.”

Din doesn’t have to be told twice, and the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom together, kissing and trying to undress all at the same time. You have to coax him out of his shirt and pants, promising that you already know about every scar and mark he has. Still, Din’s uncharacteristically timid when he lays you out on the bed, and so you make a point of praising his body, pointing out all the things you love about him as he presses kisses to the swell of your chest, the inside of your wrist, anywhere and everywhere he can get his mouth on. And it’s no chore, not by a long-shot, not when parts of him are so toned and tan and cut perfectly.

Thankfully, Din seems to derive some confidence from this, and you find him to be much more sure of himself when he parts your legs and pushes inside you. You’re on your back for a while, blissed out and content to be fucked by Din for the rest of eternity, but then Din’s pulling you into his chest, murmuring that he wants you in his lap as he maneuvers you around. You let him put you where he wants you, moaning softly when the two of you are settled again. This has always been such a good angle for you, and Din’s never been one to make you do all the work yourself, even in this position. Tonight is no exception, it would seem, the press of his cock robbing you of all coherent thought within seconds.

It feels like one long, blissful eternity passes before you have to so much as think about thinking again, every bit of you focused on the sex and the feeling of Din’s arms around your body. He’s the one who pulls you back down to reality, holding you back from his chest so he can look you in the eye.

“I’m crying,” Din tells you, announcing this as though he’s surprised. Sure enough, tears streak his cheeks, his skin wet under your fingers as you go to cradle his face.

“That’s okay,” you say, because it is. “Are you happy?”

“So happy,” Din says at once, and the strain in his voice tells you that he’s getting close. “I love you so much, cyare, fuck, I just… I just…”

“I know,” you soothe, falling back onto his chest, threading your fingers in his hair. “I know, baby. I love you too.”

Not ten minutes later, the two of you are lying beside one another, breathless and coming down. Din still has tears on his cheeks, and you know you probably look like a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You should shower, you know, shower and probably change the bed, but you’re so comfortable here under the covers. Din seems similarly inclined, reaching for you from his side of the bed,

“I take it you like the house then?”

All you can do is nod, snuggling into his chest.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted, Din. I can’t wait for the baby to see it.”

“We can go get him tomorrow, if you want,” Din offers, one hand dragging up and down, up and down your back.

“Sounds good,” you murmur, and then you’re dozing off in your husband’s arms.

[certified-anakinfucker]

📚

I AM ALIVE I PROMISE

this just means now i have more stories to bring to the table <3

yall remember night at the museum and how they pretty much just threw two tiny little enemies-to-friends-to-lovers at us? yeah? jedediah and octavius? well guess what. my otp since before i knew that shipping was a thing has come to star wars! to also feed my rampant running with mandalorians.

SO most of this takes fact after i saw the fandom once again crumbling so i was like ykw? gonna make more gays. maybe they'll even get to be happy.

it's not a horrible complicated introduction when you have the backwaterest backwater agricultural moon like concord dawn, with a nice chunk of the population spread out in a recreation of m*nifest d*stiny but less . murdery and racist. because i'm going to assert the fact that it is commonly-taught that you are never truly the first person to touch soil, and it's much easier to learn from those before you than go in guns blazing and figure it out yourself.

so, these concord dawn agriculturalists do just that. and things start working out. there's a partnership going on, and they're helping each other make sense of this moon and get the ag developments on with the exchange of building railway tracks to help connect the settled towns that have become so spread out.

of course something has to shake things up. there's another house of mandalorians, more based on rome (the ideas i'm basing off of are from the AMAZING @ollovae3 pls go check ollo out!!). and the scraps of a legion, dragging themselves from a battle, have to make an emergency landing on concord dawn - but they have no idea where they are, this is just the escape shuttle.

a bit dishonorable to them, but. to be handled later.

so they land in a field, and are quickly greeted by a few people on horseback. none of them are wearing beskar but they all speak in a mandalorian tongue. parsing through translations - soon enough the two leaders come to an agreement.

the concordian, a shaggy-haired blond fella named cyar'la who offers no family name. the "roman", a neat-kept man called shehn'yc, but given name briikase.

the concordians offer supplies, food, water, and shelter. the romans help out with the farming.

and so there goes the story of how necessity brings them together and at first it's just the biding of time until they're able to get away from each other but they spare the moments to come to realize that they aren't so different. they're both mandalorian warriors who think they're outcasts but can find solace and comfort and genuine care with one another out here in buttfuck nowhere concord dawn.

plus i get an excuse to write older lovers falling for each other in a way they thought was lost to youth. they get to find their youth again!!! doing stupid shit at weird hours of night and laughing and running around because for once shehn'yc is FREE and he can LAUGH and PLAY and live up to his name. briikase. happy, he wants to be happy.

and cyar'la, who is so dearly beloved, can finally share all of that love with someone who he really thinks could be the one.

AS YOU CAN SEE I HAVE MANY EMOTIONS ABOUT THEM

[belonareyna]

THE OUTSIDERS RECAST

I just have one good explanation to Darry Curtis, because I wanted to focus on the age of the character, because I have seen a lot of recast-dreamcast, where the chosen one is 35-45… and the character is only 20 so…

Described as: “tall, lean, cocky, and smart.” He likes to comb his hair in thick complicated swirls. - The Outsiders Wiki

I think this one was the easier one to choose, I just watched some photos and they completely give me the vive for Steve

Described as: “[having] an elfish face with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. Dally didn’t like haircuts nor hair oil, so his almost white-blonde hair fell over his forehead in wisps. He had blazing blue eyes which Ponyboy describes as ‘cold with all the hatred in the world.’”- The Outsiders Wiki

I know this actor for playing Chic in Riverdale, and the role of Dallas was made for this man, he can transmit to the audience that fear sensation that he produces, that Ponyboy describes. He had blonde hair, light eyes, that even that they are not blue, give me this petrifying sensation.

Described as: “around six feet tall, stocky in build, and was very proud of his long, rust-colored sideburns. He has grey eyes and was always wearing a wide grin. In “The Outsiders” novel, Two-Bit’s hair is described as ‘rust colored.'” -The Outsiders Wiki

I really look for a red headed, and I founded some cool actors, but I just watched this image from the actor with actual sideburns and I just said: he’s the one

Described as: “smaller than the rest, with a slight build. He had big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long that it fell in shaggy bangs across his forehead.” - The Outsiders Wiki

I felt he could really play Johnny really well, he can give this nervous look and this terrified face to the camera, but he can also can show the strength that Johnny is provided with, his leadership, his cold head in the difficult times…

Described as: “‘movie star handsome,’ and has silky, dark gold hair (real tuff) that he combs back with dark brown (recklessly, dancing) eyes and a goofy grin that you can’t help but love (which is noted by Ponyboy after getting jumped by the Socs).” - The Outsiders Wiki

Oh men, I really really thought about Peyton Meyer, but in the very last second, I remembered Froy Gutierrez and I couldn’t help myself, because he is so gorgeous, and once I visualized him, I could not see anyone else in the role.

Described as: “[having] light-brown hair and greenish-gray eyes. He has a good build for his size and is a fast runner. At the beginning of the novel, Ponyboy’s hair is long and squared in the back, but after his haircut in Windrixville, his hair is short and bleached blond.”- The Outsiders Wiki

I just knew this actor for playing a role in Anne with an E, and I feel that he actually could make an incredible acting as Ponyboy Curtis, the character he played in Anne with an E, Cole, is an artist, like Pony, he also likes the loneliness, he has being bullied, he is shy…

Also, the actor has light brown a little read head hair, green eyes…

I think he’s perfect for the role

Described as: “a large man, of 6’ 2" and he is broad shouldered. His hair is said to be like his father’s- dark brown that sticks out in the front of his head with a cowlick in the back. His eyes “are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice.” He is said to look exactly like his father, but with different eyes. Also, he looks older than his actual age, which is twenty. Ponyboy says he would be better looking if his eyes weren’t so cold.” - The Outsiders Wiki

I think that Colton Haynes is one of the best options to play Darry, I have only followed his career through Teen Wolf, and even if in their firsts seasons he played a spoiled egocentric brat, in the cameo he made in the last season, we can notice his evolve, his “growing up”, and this without having followed a path in Teen Wolf, I mean that he left the series and then he come back as a mature person without the actor to actually feeling that through the character because, well, the character left the show. Showing us that he can make both, the pride brother, and the responsible one, the caring one, the mature one.

I also thought about Matthew Daddario, but I thought he was too old (38), and I realized that I wanted a younger actor, because in the book, Darrel is just 20 years old, he is really young to be anyone’s father and still, he takes care of his family with two jobs, paying the bills… But I think is really important to show that he is really young, that he is learning how to deal with the fact that he is in charge of his two little brothers, to show how unfair it is, I want the audience to empathized with him, because I really did that in the book, and giving him a young actor around the age of the character… Well, I think is a wise option.

[phantom-curve]

concept!

an AU in which the boys are all alive, normal high school students, Julie has been kicked out of her music program, and Luke falls in love with her in three days while simultaneously bringing her back to her first love of all: music.

otherwise known as: my characters in my novel aren’t doing what they’re supposed to so I’m projecting them onto characters that share similar traits in an attempt to wrangle them into obedience.

also, I’m probably going to end up writing an entire freakin fanfic out of this so ya know, lemme know if you wanna be tagged.

enjoy!

It had been a year since the last time Julie Molina’s fingertips touched down on the ivory piano keys. A year where she wouldn’t, couldn’t, play a single note to save her life without dissolving into a mass of hysterical panic. A year where even the thought of opening her mouth to sing left her throat constricting like she was allergic to the very idea. A year of deafening silence in her household, nobody even daring to pop a CD in the living room player anymore. An entire year without her mother.

In short, Julie had been having A Very Bad Day for a literal year now. Today wasn’t about to change that for her.

“What do you mean it would be best for me to find a new music program?” 

The words were a strangled cry, somehow escaping around the thick blockade in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Julie, but it’s out of my hands. I’ve done everything I can. The music program is very competitive and the requirements to keep a spot open are strict. I’ve held off the school for a year now, but...” Ms. Harrison sighed. It was obvious she didn’t like this any more than Julie did. “Participation is 75% of your grade. I can’t grade what doesn’t exist.”

The words were soft, but Julie felt the sharp sting of them cutting straight through to her heart. Ms. Harrison gave her a sympathetic look. Julie knew it wasn’t her teacher’s fault. She had been given chance after chance to fix this mess, to fix herself. The failure was hers and hers alone.

“Thank you...for everything, Ms. Harrison.”

The words were a goodbye. They both knew it. Ms. Harrison’s returning smile was gentle and sad.

“I’m so sorry, Julie. Good luck.”

And just like that, Julie Molina was no longer a vocal studies student at Los Feliz High School. 

Julie left the classroom feeling for all the world like a woman adrift in an endless sea. Who was she without music? Obviously the answer was whatever version of herself she had been for the last year, but was that really who she was now? Was she really doomed to lose that part of her identity entirely, like a limb that had to be amputated out of necessity but it’s ghost still lingered, useless and ineffective? The thought of existing like this shell of herself for the rest of her life felt overwhelmingly sad but also undeniable. After all, Julie’s music had always been tied to her mother. Without her mom, there was no music left in Julie’s heart anyway.

It was those morose thoughts that consumed her as she made her way down the school hallways, chin tucked low against her chest, hat brim pulled over her eyes so no one would notice the tattletale tear marks down her cheeks. After a year of practice, Julie had become extremely adept at navigating the school hallways basically blind. She hardly ever ran into people anymore. Obviously, because today was The Worst Day of 2020, her luck had to give out exactly at that moment.

“Oof!” 

Julie’s breath huffed out in a surprised exhale. With a graceless flailing of arms, she fell backwards smack dab onto her backside, her books completely scattering across the deserted hallway. She blinked a few times in shock, her surroundings coming into focus as she steadied her breathing. 

“Hey, watch where you’re-oh! Oh. Sorry, shoulda....shoulda done a better job lookin out.”

One large hand extended in front of her face. Julie followed the line of bare skin upwards to an impressive display of biceps peeking out from the deep side cut of the boy’s homemade tank top. Her gaze wandered further, taking in the shaggy almost too-long brown hair shoved unceremoniously underneath an orange beanie, the soft green blue eyes that were gazing at her with a clear apology. Her own eyes skipped across his face as realization dawned. Well great. Exactly what she didn’t need. Los Feliz’s very own rebel rock-n-roll bad boy here to witness her downfall. She hastily scrubbed the leftover tears from her cheeks, rising from the ground without his help thank you very much.

“No, you’re right. It was my fault. Sorry.” 

Her words came out in a clipped rush, red staining her cheeks. She tucked her head back down, maneuvering around the unfairly cute boy in front of her so she could begin to collect her books. Before she could grab more than one, a neat stack was being gently tucked into her arms.

“Nah, Molina. I had my head in the clouds. Second nature to blame someone else for my problems.” The cheeky wink he flashed her was ruined by the thread of contempt running through his last sentence. His careless, cocky shrug was a bit more convincing. “’Sides, everyone knows not to get in the way of a woman on a mission. You clearly have places to be.” 

He dipped his head, eyes bouncing across her face as he tried to catch her gaze. She gave him a small, tight smile, reaching up to tuck a lose curl behind her ear. His answering grin felt like the first glimpse of sunshine after a month of rain. The crack in her heart ached in an unfamiliar way, Julie’s hand rising of it’s own accord to rub at the dumb muscle. Their eyes held for a long moment, a weird tension crackling between the two, before Julie bit her lip and broke the stare down. Like Lucas freaking Patterson, king of the Los Feliz musical department, would ever understand what she was dealing with right now. Steeling herself against his too warm gaze, she stepped back.

“Yep. Places to be. Like...not here, so...see ya.”

Her hand rose in a stiff wave. The awkward exit was not her best work, admittedly. And was it just her imagination or had the spark behind his eyes dimmed at her dismissal? Whatever. Didn’t matter. Julie wasn’t a vocal student here anymore. Her path and Luke’s were destined to shoot in opposite directions from this moment forward: his star rising higher as his band continued to take the musical scene by storm, her star hurtling its way down to Earth in a pathetic blaze of glory before snuffing itself out on impact. They wouldn’t meet again after this.

Without a second look back, Julie turned her back on the dejected puppy moonlighting as a teenage boy in front of her and escaped out of the school into the warmth of another glorious LA afternoon. 

[fanzelteim]

from Primer

Outside the city, we dust eaters watch the crumbed sky, gone all red like a muddy river the ground smoking away like a dying moon. This edge where the soil begins to turn desert favors a chad flower like a buffalobur, their yellow flay & spiked calyx bullying water from liatris aspera— lacerate blazing star, gayfeather, leaning toward the sun, just wanting to show off its shaggy purple buttons, the bowing old mountains just in sight— escape, revenge, everything denied in this real life western.

—The Oklahoma Review #20.1

[velvetsehun]

Born to Die| OSH | 06

pairing: Oh Sehun x Reader genre: Mafia!Sehun rating: 18+ warnings: violence, gun use, mature language, smut (in future chapters), slow burn. words: 13.4k summary: a collusions of worlds is supposed to kill, but what if it can do something else? A/N: chapter 06, who would of thought huh? i certainly didn’t think anyone would care about this fic to begin with but here we are... 6 chapters in and 14 left to go! I hope you all enjoy, remember feedback is appreciated so drop into my askbox, lets chat ;)

TW// Warning this part contains some material that might be sensitive to readers as it depicts scenes of blood and violence, readers discretion is advised.

Masterlist | next

The sound of wet shoes slapping against the pavement and the overwhelming humidity laying itself thick on his lungs was often something that Chanyeol liked to cherish about summer evening – to feel the season in the air and know that you were set for a long break away from the burdens of life, but what Chanyeol didn’t cherish was the pelting of rain whipping against his face in those summer evening as he ran for his life. 

The thickness in the air made it almost impossible to breathe at the rate he was going, the feeling of his blood carting around his veins at impossible speeding making almost impossible to keep running; but he had to keep going. 

“Come on…” He panted to himself, shivering at the feeling of his clothes clinging to him in such an awful way that he wanted to shed the damn second skin immediately. 

The screeching of his shoes against the pavement as he rounded the corner reminded him of just the predicament he was in; homeless, alone, and wondering when whoever was looking for him would eventually catch up. It was a lot for a 20-year-old, a lot to think about and a lot to deal with, but Chanyeol made his own decision to leave home and he had to live with it. 

They say the best things in life are often not planned, and to Chanyeol at one point that might have been true – but he knew deep down as he waded through the rain for his life, that every moment he spent fucking up got him here. Leaving your 20s was supposed to signify leaving behind adolescences and entering adulthood, but for him, it meant leaving behind his mistakes in the teens and carrying that burdens into his adult life. Glancing behind him briefly, he winced softly at the rain pelting against his flushed cheeks, the skin raw with the force of the water, but through the blurriness of the weather he could still spot the distorted shaped following him; clothed in black and hungry for vengeance. 

“More like hungry for money,” Chanyeol corrected his inner monologue softly, taking a moment to shove his hair out his face as he kept running. 

The streets were barren of people, the occasional passing car showing the thickness of the rain that coated the ground – the lights glinted off it like stars passing, Chanyeol liked the city rain but he liked living more. 

“Shit.” The young man swore, hearing the boom of a gun before a bullet whizzed past him lodging in the pavement in front of him, his tattered shoes skidding to a stop in freight. 

Eyes glancing at the cracked gravel where the smoking bullet laid now – its world took a complete turn as his running stopped, unsure if the chase was worth it anymore. Glancing around the street Chanyeol took in what he thought could be his final moment, the rundown restaurants and homes witness to his life. He could hear the footsteps rushing closer and his eyes shut softly as his neck went limp, shaggy hair falling into his eyes as the strands clumped together in a wet mess that dripped onto his face. 

“I’m sorry...” He thought to himself, sighing softly at the sound of footsteps nearing closer, he was bracing himself for the impact when his eyes burst open.

The feeling of a hand grabbing his sleeve and yanking him sideways sent him tumbling behind however done it, the familiar sound of a gun clocking filling the small ally – he winced softly at the impact his body to the ground but his eyes still flicked up to see who done it; a rather well dressed guy who looked around the same age as himself had his back to Chanyeol, now looking at the guy who was chasing him with his gun pointed. 

“Give me the kid,” The guy asked gruffly, nodding behind the other man, “And I won’t hurt you either kid.” But the man holding the gun merely giggled, much to Chanyeol’s shock.

“I can’t do that…” The giggling man teased, and honestly, Chanyeol wasn’t sure if he’d lost his mind. 

“And why is that,” Chanyeol’s assailant demanded, a look passing over his face.

“Because I don’t want to.” The giggling man stopped giggling, but he still had an amusing edge to his voice. 

“Fuck this,” The assailant tried to push past the other man, and Chanyeol felt himself scuttle back slightly but that grip of fear didn’t last long as the smaller man pushed the assailant back with a hard shove. 

“Now now,” The younger man toyed, “Let’s not get violent...” He sang softly like a mad man. 

“Step aside, kid.” The assailant, who truthfully Chanyeol didn’t know the name of demanded again, raising his own gun at the younger man, “Or I’ll shoot you instead.”

“No, you won’t,” The man said melodically again, and Chanyeol caught a glance of his face as he flicked the barrel of the gun that was pointing at him away like it was a fly much to Chanyeol’s horror. 

“And why is that.” The other man demanded, whoever was defending Chanyeol was clearly getting on his last nerves, but the younger man merely giggled again. 

“Do you see that car over there,” The young man pointed to something that was out of Chanyeol’s eye line, and he watched as the two men looked in the same direction. 

“Not saying I wouldn’t shoot you,” The young guy laughed softly, “But if you even lay a hand on me, there are going to be two very angry men ready to beat the shit out of you in that very car.” He giggled again. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The other man demanded, trying to distance himself away from the other guy, but the other man guy merely leaned in closer with a smirk whispering to him. 

“Who the fuck is this kid…” Chanyeol thought to himself, glancing between the two of them. Chanyeol kept watching in some twisted horror as the other man backed off with a blanched expression. 

The man backed away slowly before bolting out of the ally, the younger guys shoulders slumping in a sigh before he turned around fully to look at Chanyeol, a small smile gracing his mouth as he held out his hand to help him up. 

“You’re welcome,” He grinned slightly, still holding his hand out to Chanyeol who looked between the hand and his face in slight horror.

“Who…” Chanyeol stuttered slightly, but he was soon cut off as the other guy laughed. 

“I should probably introduce myself, I’m Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun wasn’t sure if he’d ever have kids, but if the man had to name anything as his child then he’d say that Electric Kiss was as close as it was ever gonna get – albeit it was a booze-filled, drug flourishing child, but his none the less. It was something Sehun had given him as a side project to keep the man busy during the slower times that they faced every so often, not every day was shooting and plotting, it was a small sense of normality in Baekhyun’s otherwise weird schedule, it was something he could call his own. With tensions running high between the members of Exodus at the moment, he had expected tonight to be somewhere he could “let loose” for a while but his glass ceiling was shattered as he watched with annoyed eyes as his loving boss made his way into the establishment – security scattering around him like he was the president of some foreign country, not just a gang leader entering a club.

“Smile now,” Kyungsoo scoffed softly from his place in front of Baekhyun’s desk while the latter looked out the tinted glass to the empty dance floor where his boss was currently making his way through, “You’re normally happy go lucky,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes at that.

“Happy go lucky,” He repeated annoyed, “When did you become such a nice person,” He scoffed back.

“When Junmyeon decided to promote me,” Kyungsoo teased with a small smirk gracing his lips.

“Promote,” Baekhyun turned around with an eye roll, “Junmyeon also told Sehun to stay inside the compound but the giant idiot is here, so let us not call Jun’s word as bible now.”

“Did you think for one minute he’d listen to him?” Kyungsoo asked honestly, the scowl on Baekhyun’s deepening slightly as he plonked himself down at his desk with a grunt, “Sehun is in charge after all…” Kyungsoo ended with a small drawl.

“I’d hope he might have,” For the first time, Baekhyun looked put out, “Even I listen to Junmyeon.” The man exclaimed softly but Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, sometimes I listen to him,” Baekhyun corrected, “But I don’t currently have a bounty on my head, do I?” His eyes were blazing with concern for his younger boss.

“Idiot,” Baekhyun scoffed, picking up a random ornament on his desk to play with, “He’s going to get himself shot,” Kyungsoo hummed.

“Aren’t you like his bodyguard or something,” Kyungsoo asked, but there was a teasing edge to it – an enjoyment that he was undermining his job.

“He wishes,” Baekhyun huffed, “Glorified babysitter for a while but not his bodyguard, I’m his brother.” A small fondness glinting in his eyes.

“Brother…” Kyungsoo thought about it, “Isn’t that just a fancy term that says you have to take a bullet for him?” Baekhyun rolled his eyes to his company with an unamused look.

“I’d take a bullet for him, yes,” Baekhyun began with a pointed look, “But typically bosses aren’t supposed to be out in the field, and certainly not out in the field when some mystery person is out to get them,”

“Even I know he doesn’t like the compound,” Kyungsoo reminded Baekhyun, who huffed.

“None of us like it,” Baekhyun drawled, “Fuck, I’ve been there nearly every day of my life since I was a kid, I hate the place as much as the next person”

“Explains a lot,” Kyungsoo laughed softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows.

“You grew up around Sehun didn’t you?” Kyungsoo asked honestly, he was never one to ask too many questions – especially questions about the past but he’d been in the gang so long that it didn’t matter anymore.

“Well, yes…” Baekhyun nodded, “My father was Sehun’s fathers second in command…” He looked confused about where this was going.

“Have you ever thought that he gets it from you?” Kyungsoo smiled slightly, drawing the commonalities between the pair – recklessness being a big factor.

“He wishes,” Baekhyun laughed softly, “That’s all his own, even I was still doing as I was told back then.”

“Hard to believe” Kyungsoo tsk’ed softly.

“I was a good kid,” Baekhyun mumbled softly looking off into the distance, “Shame really, this is how I turned out.”

Kyungsoo frowned slightly, even if he didn’t always toy around with the man like he often wanted him too, Kyungsoo could see that Baekhyun’s actions always head somewhat good intentions – it was family first, and he’d seen first-hand the lengths he’d gone to for someone before.

“You’re a good man,” Kyungsoo assured him, but it didn’t sit right with Baekhyun.  

“A bad man that does a good deed isn’t a good man,” Baekhyun sighed softly, “He’s still rotten at the end of the day, it just shows he can think of something else besides himself for once.”

“Do you really believe that?” Kyungsoo asked with a raised brow.

“I don’t exactly have a clean record,” Baekhyun tutted softly, “Sometimes if I look hard enough, I think my hands might be permanently stained with someone else’s demise.” He frowned softly staring at his hands.

“I know a few people that might beg to differ,” Kyungsoo said almost softly to the older man, much like how he’d seen his companion speak to their boss sometimes, “He’s not here right now, but I know Chanyeol thinks the world of you,” Baekhyun chuckled softly at that.

“Right place, right time,” Baekhyun said honestly, “Not that I’m not glad, but that’s not redemption.” He kicked his legs up on the desk.

“Who said you need redemption?” Kyungsoo asked honestly, “You’re not exactly the average person to begin with,”

“The second heir to the Byun estate,” Baekhyun mimicked his father’s voice with a sarcastic edge to it, “Not like that shit matters now,” Kyungsoo looked slightly interested in that.

“How so?” Kyungsoo was always a questioner and Baekhyun chuckled at that.

“The second son gets nothing in our world,” Baekhyun laughed slightly but there was no humour behind it, “I’ll serve Exodus till my untimely death with no land, barely any family and no life” He sounded a bit put off by that.

“No marriage on the cards?” Kyungsoo asked, he knew it was common for the sons to get married off to affluent daughters.

“I’m sure If my father cared enough, I’d be married by now,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, “But I don’t think he remembers I exist at this current moment,”

“Does anyone in this damn gang have a nice home life?” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes slightly and Baekhyun chuckled at that.

“Ask Yixing, I’m sure he’ll regale you with tales of his adoring family,” A new voice entered the conversation and the two men jumped too caught up in talking to each other. “Or maybe Jongdae, that man is always smiling for a reason.”

“Oh, so the prodigal son has decided to make his grand appearance,” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow looking at Sehun who had decided to make himself known to the two men, “Weren’t you told to stay home?” Baekhyun tutted.

“I’m here for business,” Sehun rolled his eyes while leaning against the door to Baekhyun’s office, “And I can handle myself,” He reminded them.

“Business in my club?” Baekhyun raised a brow, “Do I get to know about it?” Sehun smirked softly at that.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Sehun teased, a lot more jovial in demeanour than when the two men had last seen their boss.

“I don’t fancy having my ass handed to me by Jun because I let you do something stupid,” Baekhyun’s eyebrow twitched slightly as the younger man merely hummed in a soft laugh.

“Just tell me where the bartender is, Baekhyun.”

Despite being a 25-year-old man, Sehun still found himself bossed around from time to time from his older brothers – the irony of it laying within the fact that he was at the end of the day still their boss, and by obligation, they were supposed to do what he says but regardless, he says nicely and listened to Junmyeon rant to him again.

“Please Sehun,” Junmyeon had a sternness in his eyes that Sehun knew he got from his father, “For the time being, just say out of the light for a while – we can handle the heavy lifting.” Sehun hummed at that, say at his desk gazing at the man who was flanked with their tallest member.

“And what if I don’t want to?” He argued slightly, his hands resting on his stomach as he lounged in his chair, “Last time I left you all to do your work it didn’t exactly go to plan” He tweaked his brow at them.  

“Sehun,” Junmyeon warned, Chanyeol looking almost uncomfortable beside him.

“Junmyeon,” Sehun pointedly said back, “I am not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Junmyeon argued, Chanyeol flinching slightly at the heat in his boss’ eyes.

Sehun stared darkly at his second in command for a second before collecting himself, he detested being labelled a child, but he wasn’t about to cause a scene in the compound – he was better than that and doing so would only solidify Junmyeon’s statements.

“Fine,” Sehun grumbled after a beat of silence, “I’ll stay here if you wish me too,” He rolled his eyes slightly, Junmyeon deflated slightly at that – curious to how he gave in so quickly.

“You will…?” Jun quizzed looking at him sceptically.

“Yes.” Sehun affirmed, “I’ll stay out the light for a while if you’re so worried.” He pushed his tongue into his cheek in thought, clearly still not happy.

“Thank you,” Jun nodded glancing back at Chanyeol for a second, “I’m taking Minseok to scope out some of our casinos, you and Chanyeol try to get more out of our guest.” Junmyeon sighed slightly.

It wasn’t uncommon for the second in commands to overstep their places, Sehun’s had seen his fathers’ SIC do it all the time – but that still didn’t mean it didn’t grind his gears a bit. At times it felt like he was just the face for the gang, an affluent name that took “control” while the others schemed behind the curtains.

“Who am I in this game instead of the king?” Sehun thought wistfully while Junmyeon ran Chanyeol, who for the last few hours had been choosing to remain silent in the house, past everything he had to do.

The last few day’s had been tolling on everyone so it seemed, most of his men being sent off every direction in the city to just and find out how someone could infiltrate their shipments, while he stayed behind and handled the numerous phone calls from his head underlings about why his men were sniffing around their territory – Sehun hated the phone calls more than anything, but he had to but on a tone and brave it while he explained that his men were doing intake since he’d felt like things were “getting sloppy” within his ranks. No one really dared question him too much, he was their leader at the end of the day and if someone blinked wrong at him, they’d be taken out, but that still didn’t mean he enjoyed listening to them grumble.

“You get that, Sehun?” Junmyeon interrupted his thoughts while the younger man merely hummed and looked at him.

“Yes,” He grated out, waving his hand at his counterpart to just leave already, “Loud and clear, stay here, do this and most importantly keep out of trouble.” He rolled his eyes.

“Sehun…” Junmyeon warned slightly, but Sehun paid it no mind.

“I’m sure Chanyeol will make a fantastic babysitter, Jun” Sehun huffed, fixing his suit slightly in a fidget, “Go before I change my mind and elect to completely flout your warnings.”

Junmyeon merely gazed at the two with a pointed look before nodding slightly, making haste to get out the room with his phone already glued on his hand – the fluttering of his conversation bouncing around the empty hallway as he departed.

There was an air of silence before Sehun stood up from his desk, making sure his suit jacket was buttoned slightly and his phone was pocketed before he spoke.

“Tell someone to get my car ready, Chanyeol,” Sehun asked while he rounded his desk, much to the other man’s shock.

“But didn’t Junmyeon just say…” Chanyeol began but was promptly cut off by Sehun.

“Don’t go out in the light, yes I’m aware,” Sehun smirked softly before gesturing to his window – it was well past daylight and the moon had taken her role in the sky for the night, “But that doesn’t look like going out in the light to me.” He remarked as Chanyeol’s face dropped slightly.

“I won’t be able to stop you, will I?” Chanyeol asked honestly, crossing his arms over his chest

“Nope.” Sehun popped his lips slightly, “I’ve got business to attend to.” Chanyeol’s brow quirked.

“Business?” Chanyeol asked, “What are you up to now?”

“I’ve got a bartender to talk to,” A look passed over Chanyeol’s face at that.

“Why?” Yeol was getting defensive again, but Sehun merely chuckled.

“You’ll find out eventually,” Sehun hummed touching the older man’s shoulder as he walked past him, “Do me a favour, integrate our guest with Jongdae, if he’s still not talking after a while kill him” A dark look past over Sehun’s face.

“We have no use for him if he won’t talk,” Sehun said to his companion, “Understood?”

“Understood,” Chanyeol mumbled back, nodding slightly.

Sehun merely nodded back at him while patting Chanyeol’s shoulder as he finally walked past him to the door of his office, there was a brief pause at Sehun’s door while he thought for a second.

“I say this from a place of care, Chanyeol,” Sehun spoke honestly while looking over his shoulder, “Whatever’s in your head about this girl, let it go.”

“There’s nothing in my head,” Chanyeol grumbled back, “I just think your plan is stupid, what do you gain from this?” But Sehun merely chuckled.

“It’s not often I see your heart bleed,” Sehun hummed, “I’m trying to keep my men in check, you included”

“I am in check,” Chanyeol frowned.

“Really? You could have fooled me,” Sehun tutted softly, “I’ve watched you beat a man within an inch of his life and then some, but you’re choosing now to grow morals about who we involve?” Chanyeol’s eyes darkened slightly at the jab.

“I just think…” Chanyeol started but Sehun cut him off quickly.

“No Yeol,” Sehun began with a slight frown, “You’re not thinking, not at the moment – I don’t know what that girl triggered in you, but you need to sort it out, otherwise you’re going to get yourself killed or maybe even her.”

“I won’t.” Chanyeol tried to reason with his boss.

“Civilian relationships in any form don’t work.” Sehun reminded him, “Ask some of your brothers, your enemies don’t care who they are to you, as long as they’re something”

“Sehun...” Chanyeol started but again he was cut off.

“I did you a favour by making sure your family was protected the first time around, I can’t extend my kindness any further.”

“Sehun…”

It felt like a hit to your soul when you met eyes with the man situated at the bar, your physical body stagnant in the present while your soul decided to bolt out of there, leaving your flesh with a cold tingle to it. He looked a bit more casual than the last time you’d seen him, an all-black suit tailored perfectly to his lissom body; sans the tie and shirt unbuttoned three from the top, he looked like a walking piece of opulence, especially with his hair messily pushed back – a far cry from the hardened exterior of a man you’d seen before.

There was a cocktail of not only fear but anger swirling in your vein’s as you keep your gaze locked with the very man that caused it, his eyes dark and strong as the whiskey he was asking you for and settling straight onto your own, they were reading you; that much you could tell, the subtle twitch of them told you he was reading your face.

“I see you’re still alive,” He spoke, his tone deep and smooth as you remembered.

“No thanks to you,” You gritted slightly, hands wringing the cloth you were carrying like it was his neck, “What the fuck was that,” You leaned closer to him, his eyes dancing with a verge resemblance of shock at your tone before he straightened himself out.

“Be thankful you’re alive,” He drawled to you, leaning in himself as a challenge to your currently strong demeanour, “Some people aren’t always that lucky.” You could feel his breath hitting your cheeks, he smelled vaguely of mint and something stronger.

“I don’t think I should be thankful for almost suffocating in a plastic bag,” You hissed, eyes flickering to a group of people that were seated in a booth not too far from the bar.

“And what are you going to do about it,” He challenged you, his brow raised, his shoulders were squared but he wasn’t trying to threaten you, but you felt yourself stutter anyway.

“I…” You sentence dropped off, what were you going to do about it? It’s not like you could hit him like Chanyeol, the security guard in the corner was glaring at you enough to know that if you raised your hand, you’d lose it, not if Sehun himself didn’t get you first.

“Can I have my drink now?” His brow plucked up again, “Or will I have to tell Baekhyun to fire you on your first day?” You shook your head at him, spinning around to grab the fucking bottle of booze he wanted and a glass.

You weren’t light as you slammed the crystal onto the wooden bar counter, Sehun’s eyes following you as you poured it straight into the glass not bothering to glance at him. Sehun was intrigued, to say the least, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as you placed the bottle back onto the counter with a huff.

“That’ll be –.” You were cut off by Sehun.

“Free,” He smirked slightly, “Owner perks”

“Of course, he was the owner” You bit down on your tongue as your inner self cursed him out.

“Of course, Sir.” You gravelled out, “Will that be all?” Your eye twitched slightly while he hummed, taking a sip of his drink, glancing between the amber liquid and you.

“Leave the bottle,” He requested with a look, your head nodding before you sighed – spotting some patrons making their way to the bar.

You didn’t spare him a second glance, as you went back to work; the feeling of his eyes following you sent a small chill down your spine but you tried to shake it off, a small smile gracing your lips as you tended to other paying customers. It was strange, having him right there when he’d told of so many threats to your life every time you saw him, it was even stranger than you were now working in a club that was affiliated to him – a small calling that Chanyeol could have warned you echoing on your head, but why exactly were you here? Sehun made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you so why hire you at a club he owned.

There was a thick emotion coating your throat as you tried to focus on serving customers, all while the man that shook you to your core sat on the other end of the bar ��� checking his watch every so often that it had you on edge; Baekhyun had yet to see you again after you stole his drink for him, leaving you here with a bunch of rich twenty-somethings and a syndicate boss. You were leaning against the back of the bar, the music thumping slightly in your brain as you watched the intoxicated customers dance and laugh with their friends – something you haven’t done in a while, you noted to yourself.

The night had only really just begun and you were already ready to go home, your body still emotionally tired beyond belief and your wits at their end at the idiocy that was this bar; you were hired here for a reason and that was fraying your nerves, you didn’t believe for one second that you were hired here out of kindness, the men you had seen behind this all didn’t look like someone that extended their kindness beyond their gang.

“Let’s just say, Junmyeon likes to keep all his cards together,” Chanyeol’s lips pursed together in a look you couldn’t place, it was vague, but you nodded anyway.

Chanyeol.

You remembered his face as he handed you the job description letter, he looked put off giving you it, but you couldn’t argue and seemingly neither could he.

“Think any harder and you’re going to hurt yourself,” The voice from the corner drawled lazily again, glass raised to his mouth and an amused look in his eye while your own eyes flicked to him.

“Shut up,” You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest in a glare, “Don’t you have lives to be ruining?” Sehun hummed at that.

“Is that what you think I do?” His eyes danced with mirth.

“Monsters prey in the dark, but here you are” You rolled your eyes, “Which means that you’re up to something.” Sehun’s eyes narrowed slightly at your wording, his lips pursing together slightly.

“I’m here on business if you must know.” Sehun scoffed, “Not that it matters to you, bartender.” His jaw was set slightly, and you flinched at the fact you’d put him in a mood.

“Business,” You sneered slightly, “Gonna shoot up this place too?” Sehun rolled his eyes.

“I think you’d know if I was, darling,” He jeered back at you, “I might not be as nice to tell you to get under the bar next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” You bantered back to him, disregarding the fact your heart was hammering in your chest at the dark look in his eyes.

Setting your jaw, you walked back over to him with a pointed look; the cloth that was in your hand was tossed on the counter as you leaned.

“Tell me,” You asked honestly, “Why am I here?” His eyes met your own, no emotion being given away behind them.

“Because you work here,” He deadpanned like it was the simplest thing in the world, and that made your jaw tick.

“Chanyeol told me that Junmyeon likes to keep all his cards together,” You gritted slightly, “What does that mean.” Sehun mouth ticked slightly in a sneer.

“Why don’t you ask your buddy?” His eyebrows were raised.

“I’m asking you.” You swallowed thickly, “Now answer me.”

“And what makes you think that you’re in a position to tell me what to do?” Sehun tested you.

“Sehun,” You said his actual name to him for the first time, a tone of stress coating the words like honey, “Please.” Your eyes softened slightly.

Sehun looked conflicted for a second, his eyes skittering around your face trying to look for anything that told him you had other intentions; there was a beat of silence between the two of you before he sighed annoyed. You watched him toss his drink back before he reached into his inner suit pocket to retrieve his phone, a look passing his face as he did; it was just as quickly pocketed as it was taken out while his eyes flicked to you, an unresolved emotion waving in them.

“Stick around after the bar closes,” He grumbled out, standing up from his stool, “I’ll answer your questions then.”

“But…” You began, your mouth slightly open in protest when he cut you off.

“No buts.” He snapped lightly, “I’ll answer your questions then or not at all.” His eyes were angry, but you could tell it wasn’t at you.

“Fine…” You deflated slightly, shoulder slumping slightly as you watched him turn on his heel.

Curiously, you looked at his back as he retreated from the bar without a second glance at you, looking as he passed his security guard to walk over to one of the private rooms on the VIP area that you had been told was used for business meetings, he stopped slightly before the door, look off to the side and our brows furrowed slightly at the person that walked up to him.

“It’s the girl from the house…” You mumbled to yourself slightly, watching as she strutted up to the man; her head very much held high.

She looked gorgeous, made up in a dress that seemed to almost glitter in the light; she practically glowed under the strobe lights of the VIP room, she was a beautiful woman – and when you had seen her last you could tell she suited Sehun a lot, the two of them had an aura about them that matched. You didn’t mean to stop and stare at them, but as the girl entered the room before Sehun you caught the latter turning around to give you a pointed look; a sheen of embarrassment coating your cheeks at his stare.

“So this was his business huh…”

It wasn’t long before Irene was making her way up to the VIP room, a soft smile gracing her face at the sight of you working like you belonged at Electric Kiss; she had been sceptical at first since there was already a tightknit of people that worked here, not just anyone was hired, but when Baekhyun approached her and told her, she knew she’d try to be as welcoming as possible. But the devil in her ear currently was stopping her from greeting you like how was wanted too. 

“Is Sehun anywhere around?” She rolled her eyes as she heard Baekhyun through her earpiece, something she used in case of emergency and she needed to get security quickly.

“We have security cameras, Baek,” She grumbled slightly, making sure no one in VIP heard her talking to herself, “Check those, I’m busy.” She smiled at a customer who walked past her. 

“But you’re my informant on the ground,” Baekhyun teased softly, treating it like he did when he was probably on missions. 

“Baekhyun,” She warned with a look, even though he couldn’t see her. 

“I would be he’s not down the stairs,” Irene could hear the roll of his eyes, “There’s a reason he hangs around up there.”

“It was your choice not to put camera’s up here,” She sniped slightly, “But for your information, his guard is still up here.” She confirmed to him, watching the man she only knew as Johnny walking around. 

“And the He in question?” Baekhyun pressed a bit, much to her annoyance. 

“I don’t know, probably one of the private rooms.” She tutted, gazing around the room looking for the infamous boss – Irene had only met him a few times through Baekhyun, but he’d never really said much to her. “Have one of your men check it.”

“He’s been a foul mood the last few days, lovely,” Baekhyun huffed, “I don’t fancy facing any wrath.” 

“Chicken.” She teased with a smirk.

“Am not.” He snapped, but there was a playful edge to it. 

Irene hummed softly, her eyes flickering around the room at everyone that filled the VIP section; she could spot the security guards a mile away, they stuck out like a sore thumb but none of the socialites that gathered up here bothered, if anything they ate it up when anyone from Exodus visited, they were Royalty here after all. Irene’s eyes did widen slightly as she caught sight of the very man, she was looking for storming out of a private room; a glance at a familiar woman sitting at the table before the door slammed shut. Sehun looked mad, and she could see him storming down the staircase that leads to Baekhyun’s office. 

“Uh Baekhyun,” Irene chirped quickly, “Problem.”

“What?” Baekhyun quickly responded, “What is it.”

“Found Sehun, and he’s very mad.” She shuffled quickly of the way of one of the security guards who was rushing past her. “And currently on his way to you.”

She could hear the slam of a door from the audio of the earpiece, Baekhyun yelping slightly in freight, herself jumping at the sound of it pathetically. She tried to listen in for a second but before she could hear anything the call cut – one last word passing from Baekhyun before it dropped.

“Oh shit.”

Truthfully, your first at Electric Kiss had been an eventful one, and eventful couldn’t even fully sum it up. Working at the bar of the VIP section truly showed you a life that’d you’d never know, rich kids were willing to throw their money at anyone that served them drinks and you heard all kinds of gossip through the night that you honestly had no business in knowing; Joohyun was right when she said you get tipped well up here, and it wasn’t just in case. You had seen your manager briefly before you took a small break earlier, she looked a bit frazzled but she kept her composure as she questioned you on how your first night was going here, she’d been nothing but kind to you since you started, so you felt a sense of connection when you did manage to talk to her again.

Aside from that, you never saw anyone again for the remainder of the shift – Sehun never graced your presence again and Baekhyun was MIA, it was truly just you and the customers up here, and it was strangely nice. However, what Sehun had said to you was still echoing in your mind as you slowly shuffled to get your things from the breakroom.

“Stick around after the bar closes,” He grumbled out, standing up from his stool, “I’ll answer your questions then.”

It was 3:30am now and the bar was closing early for the night since it was the middle of the week; Irene had been gracious enough to let you go straight home since you’d turned up early for training while herself, Joy, and a girl you’d not met yet cashed out for the night. They gave you soft smiles as you left but your eyes were scanned around the bar.

“He never said where to meet him…” You thought to yourself, “Or maybe it was just a ploy to get you to shut up.” That was probably more likely.

The annoyance was radiating off you slightly when you decided to leave the warmth of the bar and step into the biting cold of the street; the sounds of customers that still littered the place echoing into the frosty air, there wasn’t anyone around, something you noted as you stood on the sideway next to the club – taking in the scene of it all.

Electric Kiss was on a very nice side of town, surrounded by affluent shops and restaurants for the rich, and apartment buildings for the even richer; it wasn’t your usual side of town, the elevators probably worked in the buildings here. It was always a fantasy to think about what it would be like to own a home here, to see the city in its full glory every day and not have to worry about making rent.

“Must be nice…” You commented softly into the air, looking up at one of the bigger apartment complex buildings; the skyscraper-sized tower glittering with thousands of little lights in the early morning.

Winter had its grasp around everything you looked at, the faint sight of steam covering windows while the pavement froze over with a shimmering frost; it was truly beautiful but the beauty was interrupted by the sound of a car engine so much so you rolled your eyes. Thought you thought of it as just a passing car you jumped back slightly from the edge of the sidewalk when a sleek black car pulled up in front of you, the passenger window rolling down so you could peak in. Leaning down slightly, you almost choked at who was driving the car.

“Get in,” Sehun grumbled out, one hand on the wheel while the other used a finger to prop his head up while he leaned on his door, he looked a bit annoyed.

“Why?” You stuttered slightly, confused at what was going on, but he only rolled his eyes before he looked at you.

“You wanted to talk, so we talk,” He sassed you slightly, “I said get in.” He nodded to the door.

You were gaping at him slightly, so much so that you forgot to answer him straight away – his handsome features pulling a face before he shook his head.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” He grumbled, reaching over the dash to creep the window back up – he stopped slightly when you jumped, placing your hand on the closing window to stop it.

“Wait.” You yelped softly, “Just wait.” You huffed before looking around at the empty street, shaking your head you grasped the door handle to the car, pulling it open with a bit of effort before you sat down in Sehun’s passenger seat.

His car was warm and smelled vaguely like cigarettes, not that you minded, but the focus was the man who was driving; the fact that his eyebrows were pulled together in a frown as he looked again.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked softly, keeping your eyes on him; his own flicking to you slightly before he put the car in drive.

“Home.” He grumbled slightly like it was paining him, “Put your seat belt on.” You rolled your eyes at that.

“You’re one to talk,” You sniped slightly, doing what you were told anyway, “Haven’t you been drinking?” He rolled his eyes.

“One drink,” He scoffed, “I’m a busy man, I can’t exactly afford to drink on the job.” You shook your head at him, watching at the night started to pass by you from his tinted window.

“You had questions,” He sighed, “Ask them.” Your eyes flickered back to him slightly while he drove; like everything he did, it was attractive.

“What did Junmyeon mean…” You sighed slightly, settling into the leather of his car seat; it was all black interior, but it didn’t feel cold because of it.

“About the cards?” Sehun hummed while you nodded.

“It would seem, miss bartender…” He began with a sigh as he stopped at a stoplight, “That we have use for you yet.” You frown at that.

“What?” You hesitated slightly, “What do you mean by that?” His face pinched slightly as he turned to you, tiredness settling in his eyes.

“For once, you know a lot more than we do,” He started, glancing at you before his eyes settled back on the road and the driving started again, “That man that was showing up at Oasis, we need to find him and currently you’re the only one in existence right now that knows what he looks like.” Sehun didn’t look proud to admit that.

“Me?” You frowned, “Surely someone else does?” Sehun hummed.

“You’d think,” He started, “The only person that might, won’t tell me, and we can’t find anything on him anywhere.”

“Oasis wasn’t the only joint of mine’s he was… looking into,” Sehun frown, hand gripping the wheel a bit tighter, you listened to eagerly as he spoke, “A few days ago, a few weapons from my stock went missing – the same man that was stealing stock at Oasis was behind it.” You frowned softly as he continued.

“He’s been redistributing the stolen and tampered drug stock at clubs around the city; his latest was Teardrop,” His eyes flicked to yours.

“I’ve been there once or twice, yeah…” You said softly.

“No security cameras could catch him and no one in the crowd could point him out,” Sehun shook his head, annoyed.

“But how does this involve me,” You frowned. “If he’s bold enough to walk into my establishment once, he’ll do it again.” Sehun spoke simply, “We think he’s going to turn up at Electric Kiss, he’s been in clubs in the surrounding areas.”

“And you need me to spot him out?” You asked, clocking your head to the side, “How do you know he won’t just hide from me? After all, he knows what I look like”

“He seems like he loves a thrill,” Sehun glowered slightly, reaching into his glove compartment to retrieve a small box; cigarettes.

You watched in some weird fascination as his free hand managed to get on out of the box and lifted it to his lips, before he quickly grabbed the lighter that was sitting in his pocket and lit it, the waft of expensive cigarettes filling the car before his window was left slightly ajar, so it could filter out. His tongue running over his teeth as he took a draw had you turning away slightly, a blooming of red covering your cheeks at the simple movement.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to help you,” You asked softly.

“Would you have?” He quizzed slightly, ashing his cigarette out the window.

“Maybe…” You stuttered softly as he chuckled.

“It was easier to trick you than to ask you,” He said simply with a slight shrug.

“What about back at the warehouse…” You swallowed thickly, “You didn’t kill me, why?”

“Because I didn’t have to.” He sighed, “Believe it or not, I don’t like shedding unnecessary blood, plus I had my own plan that I had to see come to fruition.”

“I timed everything for a reason,” He continued, “I knew as soon as I put the bag on your head, I only had a few minutes before the police showed up – I knew you weren’t going to die.”

“But the police…” You started before he cut you off.

“To some degree were in on it,” Sehun hummed, “Some of the higher-ups were sniffing around your case, it got worse when our name got tagged to it, I needed you gone quickly and your boss in my possession before someone started sniffing around my business.” He told you honestly.

“I couldn’t just let you go,” He told you, “We all knew the police would find that far too suspicious and you’d be tied to all this, it was easier to stage something”

“But during the interrogation, the officer was saying all this stuff.” You shook your head while he smirked softly, eyes glancing at you.

“I knew you’d crack under pressure, that’s why I had the commissioner interrogate you and lead the thing along,” He chuckled, “It was also a test.”

“A test of what…” You mumbled.

“A test to see if you’d heeded my warning,” He glanced at you again, capturing your eyes with his own, “I wasn’t kidding about the bullet between your eyes.” He smirked darkly.

“I hate you…” You mumbled softly looking out the window, “Like a lot.”

“I’m not too keen on you either, sweetheart,” He hummed, looking at the road with nothing but boredom.

“So, I keep an eye out for your mystery guy, then what?” You grumbled, biting your lip softly as you watched him flick his finished cigarette out the window. “I get fired?”

“If we find him then whatever you want,” He shrugged, “Work at Electric Kiss or leave, I don’t really care, just as long as you keep your mouth shut.” He tapped softly on the leather of his steering wheel.

“Right,” You rolled your eyes, “Charmer aren’t you.” He smirked softly at that.

“You mean you don’t love our talks,” He quizzed with humour behind it, “Or are you upset that I’m not Chanyeol right now?”

“You’ve threatened me every time I’ve talked to you so no, I don’t like our talks,” You huffed, “And I’m not happy with Chanyeol either, he lied to me as well.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll survive,” He mumbled as he pulled into the street that held your apartment block, not commenting further on it.

“I’m sure I will…” You muttered back.

The car dropped into silence as he pulled into the parking lot that sat outside the back of your building, his fancy car probably looking entirely out of place in the shithole that you lived in – for some reason you almost felt embarrassed as he gazed up at your building.

“Not all of us can live in luxury,” You said quickly before he could get a snippy remark in, but you were left a bit confused when he frowned softly.

“You work for where you live, that’s respectable enough,” He muttered, “And luxury isn’t worth what you think it is.” He had a faraway look in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

“I don’t know, you live a pretty comfortable life,” You commented slightly, and it was true – the man probably had more money than you’d ever own or work for.

“Something like that,” He muttered, deciding not to comment any further on your claim. The brief silence you both went into was enough to make you want to crawl out your skin, but you held your composure as you sighed softly.

“Thank you, Sehun…” You said lowly, you hated feeling like you owed someone something and the idea of thanking him after everything he’d done to you left a bad taste in your mouth, but you did it anyway, “For answering my questions and driving me home.”

“Think of it as payment,” He remarked slightly while turning to you, “For almost suffocating you to death,” You chuckled at that.

“It’s going to take more than that to make up for it,” You smiled slightly, locking eyes with him.

He was doing the thing again, where he was trying to work you out from merely just looking at you; his almost black eyes flicking around your face to try and find out your intentions, it was almost flattering but it was also uncomfortable. While you enjoyed looking at his face, you’d rather someone just ask you a question than try to sus you out but knowing what you knew about this man; that wasn’t going to happen.

“I should go…” You spoke softly, “Its late.” Whatever he was into, he snapped out of it while he turned around humming in agreement with you.

“You should,” He nodded keeping his eyes forward.

You looked at him softly, taking in his ridged side profile before you smiled a bit, nodding slightly while you pushed his car door open.

“Goodnight Sehun…” You spoke softly, glancing back into the car as you stood up, you didn’t bother to listen to his reply but you caught it anyway as you slammed the door shut, a small smile lifting your face.

“Goodnight…”

It felt as though you had been punctured but something as you watched his car drive away from you, the feeling of your blood rushing out your veins and leaving your body with that cold feeling of hollowness all while your eyes glanced at the vehicles retreating from. It was an indescribable feeling flooding you every time you found yourself near him, but it was a feeling that all though you’d never admit; you lusted to feel again.

“I wish I could understand you…” You whispered softly, small tuffs of white curling in the space surrounding your mouth; almost like a soul leaving the body, the words falling onto no one but mother nature.

The air was biting as you stood in the small carpark that laid itself out in front of your apartment but despite the chill, you found yourself not whiling to move; you had a lot to take in, and even more to process. It had been a very long night, the timepiece on your wrist reminding you that it was in fact very early morning. It was hours to be alone, but for some reason, a chill crawled its way up your spine that wasn’t an effect of the cold; the eerie feeling of someone else being in the barren car park with you.

Glancing back at the building behind you that held your home, you blinked slowly at the idea of just running into it but foolishly your steps carried you carefully into the middle of the empty lot; borrowed heels crunching on the gravel cracking into the night as you spun slowly to observe what you could.

“Hello?” You spoke softly, looking around at any hideaway spot you could; the balconies that held all the doors and the small allies that cut into different ways to get out the building, “Is anyone there?” Sheer stupidity seemed to be a trademark for you at this point, but after the last few days; if something was going to get you, you’d rather it showed itself.

You were met with silence, the deafening silence that was known as 4:00am and nothing else; barely any light or movement, it seemed like it was just you and your thoughts. But it wouldn’t be out of style for you to jump when you felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket, the new device spurring to life in an angry notification that said you were getting a call. You didn’t even bother to check the caller id before you clicked accept but after what you were met with, you wish you had.

“Where the hell are you!?” Jeonghan snapped on the other end, as your eyes widen.

“Woah…” You began slightly shocked at his tone, “What do you mean?”

“I’m here,” He grumbled, “At Electric Kiss, I said I’d pick you up?” You blanched slightly.

“Jeonghan, I’m so sorry…” You began softly, “I’m already home,” Your eyes scattered around while you made a gentle walk back to your apartment, the familiar feeling of being watched not leaving you.

“How the hell did you get home?” He sounded shocked, and you sheepishly responded.

“A uh… Friend from work drove me,” You lied to him, a small gnaw of guilt eating at you, “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.” You pouted softly down the phone in the hopes you’d pick up on your tone.

The sigh you heard on the other end confirmed that it worked.

“It’s alright…” He grumbled softly, “Sorry for snapping at you,” He said as you shouldered your way into your apartment, a small grunt passing your lips as you did.

“You’ve only just come home after being kidnapped,” He sighed, “I was just making sure you’d get back alright.”

“Hannie…” You said softly, honestly feeling your heart melt, “It’s okay, I’m okay…” You assured him.

“Do you want me to come over?” He asked while you walked up the stairs to your apartment, choosing to forgo the elevator, “I’m sure I can pick up some food.”

“Hannie, don’t worry about it,” You told him with a small smile, “Go home and get some rest, I’m a big girl, I can stay by myself.” He sighed at that.

“Okay,” You could hear the small smile in his voice, “Just message me tomorrow okay?” You laughed slightly at that.

“I will,” You smiled softly, “Get home safe Jeonghan,” He sighed softly.

“You too…” The call cut off after that, you were in a rush to get back home that you booked it up the last 3 flights of stairs to your floor, your chest-puffing slightly as you scurried to your door – after the car ride with Sehun, you had a lot to look into.

After practically falling into your apartment, you kicked your shoes off and made your way into your bedroom – making haste to boot up your laptop while you sorted yourself out for the rest of the morning. Electric Kiss needed you in by 7 tomorrow to work a short shift since they were working out your rota, so you had time to do what you needed, and what you needed right now was not to go to bed.

The blinking of the cursor of the search engine you were using was taunting you as your fingers hovered above the keyboard – the limps twitching to write; you were doing your own research since you couldn’t trust anyone to tell you anything anymore, so you wasted no time in typing what you needed into the search bar.

‘Oh Sehun’, You bit your lip softly as your eyes tried to take in the search page.

You weren’t sure what you expected, he wasn’t a celebrity by any means, but the cloud of news articles that littered the page was a bit overwhelming.

“New heir of Oh Industries takes over after Owners death.”

“Owner of Oh Industries, Oh Dae-suk, passes in a drive-by murder, rumours of son to take over.”

“Oh Sehun named CEO of Oh Industries after legal battle.”

The search was littered with dozens of pages about how Sehun came to be the heir of the company he fronted, something that was clearly a decoy for whatever Exodus was. But you could feel a slight tension in your shoulders as pictures of him from the past popped up; one, in particular, was a photo of a teenage Sehun at his father’s funeral, a far cry from what he looked like now.

Shaggy haired and red-eyed, Sehun looked miserable as they caught a photo of him coming out of a funeral car; flagged by a woman you could only guess was his mother, your heart bled a little as you looked at him, he was so young. Flickering down you read the passage under the photo.

Heir to the Oh family, Oh Sehun, and his mother Oh Jieun pictured stepping out for the first time in public after the death of the CEO Oh Daeksuk – flagged by family and friends the mourning family attend the wake in his honour.

You felt a bit sick reading how the family were being hounded even on such a sad day like a funeral, but you clicked out the article anyway. Another one instantly catching your interest.

Rumour: Oh Sehun tied to gang affiliation after leaked photos show millionaire CEO partying with Criminals?

Rumours broke Saturday night after Oh Sehun was pictured partying with suspected drug cartel member Jung Insik in Rouge lounge earlier in the week. The two seemed friendly on the couch of the VIP section, sharing drinks and laughing with each other, although partiers claim there was nothing suspicious going on between the pair it's suspicious that the CEO of a medical company is hanging around with a suspect in a large drugs case – Oh Industries couldn’t be reached for a statement.

You puffed air out of your mouth as you read it, already in the know to what the young CEO gets into behind closed doors – to you it was clear that Oh Industries seemed to be front for Exodus, they were rarely in the news for anything else with the last article on Sehun being nearly a year ago about his charitable donations to an organisation; it made sense that they’d hide in plain sight, no one could accumulate that much money and not be talked about in some regard.

It was interesting to read, but it told you nothing about the man in question; just that he liked to party, his father died when he was young and that the new suspected him of doing dodgy things but nothing had been given as solid evidence to confirm any rumours. Sehun and his gang were truly an enigma, not even a mention of any of the other members anywhere associated with his name.

It was very early in the morning at this point, but you had no intention of stopping anytime soon; you were going to find out whatever you could about this man, even if it meant a sleepless night.

“Who are you, Oh Sehun…”

The next day, for the first time in forever, felt completely and utterly normal; you woke up at noon after staying up most of the morning doing research and you could leisurely get ready for work after eating a huge breakfast since you declined to eat anything last night. It was nice to not have anyone hounding you or jumping you for once, it was that peaceful that when you did eventually turn up for your shift it flew past in a breeze. Neither women from the night before were working with you today but you were introduced to both Seulgi and Yeri, both of whom welcomed you with open arms when you came through the door. It was nice, and it was a peaceful day at work, or as peaceful as it could be working in a bar, but you enjoyed it none the less; it was a lot less stressful than what Oasis had been.

What you didn’t prepare for was what was waiting for you at home.

You had got home just after midnight after sharing a cab with Seulgi who lived near the complex that you lived in, the street was as always quiet as it normally was at night and honestly, you felt like nothing could go wrong when you go into your apartment, but that hope was shattered after 15 minutes after getting home; 3 weak knocks sounding at your door.

“What the…” You spoke softly to yourself, barely getting a chance to settle into your couch before you were called up again.

Freaked out and slightly scared, you grabbed you keys as a form of defence while you slowly opened the door but they were dropped in an instant when your eyes caught sight of what was on the other side.

Chanyeol, hunched over and holding his side with one hand while the other kept him steady on your door frame, the strong stench of metallic filling your nose as you watched his stained hands slip slightly on the wood of your door.

“Chanyeol,” You yelped rushing to catch the 6 foot something man that started to tip over, “What the hell happened to you?” You stressed trying to tug him instead, your nose curling at the smell of blood.

“Ran into slight difficulties on the job,” He wheezed slightly, tripping up while trying to walk with you; flinching as you slammed the door behind him.

“Difficulties?” You snapped a bit scared; your eyes were wide as you tried to get a look at him.

It was clear that he’d been stabbed in the side, the way he was clutching the area was a dead giveaway; along with the blood that stained his fingers. He looked ashen and pale while he tried to look at you; a cold sweat clouding over his skin, something you could feel as you tried to hold him up.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” You demanded, dragging him to your small bathroom; his body wincing softly at the bright light that emitted from the room.

“Can’t,” He wheezed again as you managed to get him to sit on your counter, your small hands pushing him back completely so the wall could support him, “They ask too many questions.” He winced again at your pushing.

“And you think I can handle this?” You gestured wildly to his wound, in this light you could see he had a few bruises and cuts on his face, “How did this happen?” You demanded softly, raiding one of your bathroom drawers for the first aid kit.

“Baekhyun and I were on a job not too far from here,” Chanyeol could slightly, groaning while he pulled his shirt over his head knowing he had to, “We were following a tip-off that was given to us, but we were jumped.” You jumped slightly at his bare torso but puffed out air to try and compose yourself, the man was possibly dying on your counter.

“Where’s Baekhyun now?” You stressed slightly, wetting a rag to try and clot his wound.

There was a massive gash on the lower right side of his stomach, it looked deep, and he groaned loudly as you pressed down on it, your own mouth shushing in slightly as you did.

“I don’t know,” His face was screwed up in pain, “We got separated.”

“Right,” You swallowed thickly, “Chanyeol, I don’t know what you want me to do about this, I’m not a nurse…” He looked down at you with a sad smile, something flickering in his eyes, he was extremely pale right now, almost deathly.

“Just try and stop the bleeding,” He rasped out, unaware that his hand was clutching the sleeve of your shirt, “Do you have a needle?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how to stitch a wound,” You panicked out, watching his eyes flutter shut softly, “It’s like sewing a shirt…” He sounded a bit far away now like he was having a conversation, but it wasn’t with you.

“Chanyeol,” You shook him softly, “You have to stay awake.” He was slumping slightly, the blood lost evident on his face.

Taking your free hand, you slapped him softly on the cheek trying to coax him into staying up, “Chanyeol, please…”

“Hmm…” He hummed softly trying to move his face away from the slap, “Please just hurry…” He gargled softly while you started to panic.

“Chanyeol.” You snapped slightly, hitting him a bit harder but it wasn’t working.

You gruntled when he suddenly slumped forward, his head banging onto your shoulder with a hard thump as you winced; the feeling of his hand letting go of your sleeving extremely worrying.

“Chanyeol…” You could feel his soft breaths on the exposed skin of your neck before your eyes widened something spilling out his lips that’s clearly wasn’t directed at you.

“Don’t worry Yoora, I’ll be okay…”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Flashback Friday || Morgan & Luis

TIMING: Distant past, in the days of yee-haw

LOCATION: The Magick Cauldron, Houston, Texas

PARTIES: @ontheluis & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Luis wanders into a magic shop looking for some herbs, Morgan spies an opportunity, and the cards know more than either of them reckon. 

CONTAINS: Mellow yee-haw vibes

“Welcome, traveler, to the Magick Cauldron! Browse at your pleasure and inquire if you have any questions!” Morgan had given the scripted greeting so many times, it came out of her in full customer service cheer every time the shop door opened. She didn’t even look up from the book she had open under the cash register anymore, but flipped another page and let the customers let her know if there was something worth talking about by shouting ‘lady!’ or coming into her peripheral view.

The Magick Cauldron was the only occult shop still standing West Houston after the Y2K stress fads had died away and the first bout of shiny, corporate development had found its way into Montrose and bulldozed a crystal shop, a Greek deli, and one of the few ladies-only gay bars in favor of a mixed use building that so far only housed a nail salon and a Jamba Juice. Ralf, the fine proprietor of the Cauldron as he called himself, said that this space was protected. As the door chimed open again and Morgan made her welcome speech, bright and shiny as the plastic plate armor hanging in the kid’s section, she wondered if he was right. She never seemed to serve more than a dozen or so customers during her shifts, but the lights stayed on, day after sweltering day. If Ralf was right, it might just be the one piece of real magic in the place, not that she could say that to anyone’s face.

The warped outline of a boy rippled over the glass counter and Morgan blinked up from her book. “Is there something I can help you with, weary traveler?” She asked wryly.

“Sorry ma’am,” Luis assured, “didn’t mean to bring the stray in here,”

Evening had fallen outside, heat from the blistering still wafting off the pavement. Telephone poles and streetlights were thin black columns that stood stark against the blazing orange and wane blues of sunset.  

“Go on, git!”

At the Magick Cauldron’s threshold was an enormous black dog. Even while quietly sitting on its haunches the shaggy canine was easily as tall as the teenage boy snapped at it. Pupiless red eyes regarded Luis impassively, only an ear twitch showing that the dog wasn’t just a statue.

When the black dog gave no indication of actually entering the store nor stopping its scrutiny of Luis, the young man cut his losses and regarded the woman at the counter again.

“Here,” Luis reached into a pocket of his jeans and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it on the counter. The names of herbs and powders were written in someone else’s prime neat handwriting. “I uh don’t know what any of this is…,” he confessed.

Morgan took the paper carefully between her fingers, trying not to let her discomfort at how damp and sweaty it was show too much. It didn’t take much to figure out she was looking at an herbalist mixture for anxiety and sleeplessness. She looked up and the boy, and down to the list again. “We’ve got everything you need over here,” she said. She lead the boy over to the bulk aisle where the dried herbs and bottled oils were kept and alphabetized. “Did you want these bagged separate or together? Or--you probably don’t know how these work huh? We’ll do separate, so you can use any excess as you wish. But fair warning, we have a purchase minimum of one ounce for each item.” She put a small paper bag on the shelf in the middle of the display and started shovelling the herbs in. As she worked, she glanded sidelong at the kid and the dog that had decided to become instantly fond of him. Someone cared about them, to throw together this recipe, and he looked embarrassed enough for a kid his age to seem like he needed help. Would it be wrong to squeeze a few more dollars out of him if it so happened to brighten his day or give him some direction? Sure, he was scruffy, but not so much as to be desperate. He could afford a few extra bucks, right?

“Hey, you okay there?” Morgan asked him. “You seem a little lost. I’m getting some ‘needs direction’ vibes from you.” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re looking for Niko Niko’s, it’s just further down the street. You’re not supposed to leave your car here while you go over there, but I won’t tell. And if you need something a little less literal, I might be able to help you with that.” She nodded toward the oracle room at the back of the shop, with its hand painted sign hanging crooked from a nail and entryway draped with lavender beads. “I do have sliding scale rates, if it helps you make up your mind.”

The great black dog continued to watch Luis in silent stillness, the Barghest’s posture poised as if waiting for something.

“No offense ma’am but I don’t believe in…,” the teenager half-turned but caught sight of the enormous stray waiting for him in the darkening sunset. Those pupiless red eyes immediately filled Luis with a nameless dread. Cold sweat stained the back of his T-shirt as Luis’ skin went clammy despite the Texan heat. Luis couldn’t process why some random big-ass dog would wig him out so much. He wasn’t even afraid of it biting him or even the dog itself.

So why was his heart pounding in his temples?

“Yeah uh..s-seperate would be great,” Luis reaffirmed to Morgan needlessly. The labels on the tinctures and herbal selections blurred in his vision as Luis tried to get a handle on his thoughts. “Direction like, oh you mean to the interstate,” Luis replied in a misinterpretation of Morgan’s broader meaning. “I’m alright thanks, yeah merging on that triple hairpin by Foster is a pain in the ass but it's chill.”

Luis looked over to the oracle room with the dubiety of someone for whom the occult was just a vague ‘other’ mentioned at Mass or when abuela suggested a Sonora Market cure for whatever new cold was going around. He seemed about to decline again until the creeping skin-crawl of Barghest’s glare boring into his back made Luis amenable to any distraction.

“Yeah uh sure,” he said, taking a step towards the beaded shroud. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Morgan followed the boy’s eyes to the dog. He was looking pretty well fed for a stray, and his eyes--red, alert, sharp with an uncommon intelligence--made her shiver. Definitely supernatural. She didn’t know, how, or what, but it didn’t look good. “And I mean--” How to put this in just the right way? Or at least the more convincing way? “I mean your spirit, your chakras. Believe in your connection to the universe or not, but are you really going to say to my face that you know how you’re going to make your life worthwhile to yourself? That you know how to reach your greatest good?” No one did. Heck, she was a devout wiccan most days out of the year and even she didn’t know what her highest, greatest good looked like. “And if you’ve got the cash, I’ll throw in a cleansing, something to make--” she gestured at him vaguely, “Whatever negative heavy energy this is that’s stuck to you. Seriously, do you ever feel tired out of nowhere?” It was summer and the sun was exhausting; everyone got tired out of nowhere.

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but Morgan was tired of ordering off the dollar menu for dinner and she felt like she was taking her life into her own hands when she conjured money from school pens and laundry lint cotton. This kid’s money might get her a pot pie that didn’t come from the freezer, or enough tacos to last her a week, or maybe she’d blow it all on seafood, or a dress that hadn’t been worn by someone else. “I’ll ring you up first, and then we’ll see about getting the rest of you squared away.” Morgan did, and when that part of the transaction was over, she lead him into the oracle room.

In truth, the oracle room was an old storage closet with the door taken out. Morgan breezed through them and went to the antique flea market find armoire, where all the necessary items were kept. Morgan took out a small tray of tarot decks and took the one she liked best, a well loved Raider-Waite with stars on the backs and gold-gilt edges. “I’ll shuffle them myself, but you should tell me when to cut and start again and when to stop. When I’m done, you’ll spread them. You’re the one who needs to connect with the deck, after all.”

Rafael Martininez had given his son that smirking half-smile while Malia had given Luis the pale blue eyes watching Morgan shuffle cards. Sweaty light brown hair clung to his forehead beneath the Dallas Burn hat, stray strands dangling back his eyes. The lanky teenager sat awkwardly across from the cartomancer, doubting not only her veracity but that a term like destiny could even apply to someone like him.

Like many children who’re so profoundly blessed to grow up in a home of unconditional love, Luis had no idea that Rafael and Malia given him a protection rarer than talismans, weirds, or wards. Rafael had come to this country for a better life, and Malia had wanted a home that was safer then the hell she’d left. Together they’d given both dreams to their children, so Luis and his siblings would never have to go through what they had.

The freckled face that lifted to Morgan’s was innocent of hate, abuse, or fear of abandonment. Even in following a strange woman into a shrouded back room, it’d never occurred to Luis to worry about anything more sinister than carnival charlantry.

“So uh...like this ma’am,” Luis asked as he placed some cards face down on the table.

It was this very innocence in Louis that dulled the edge off Morgan’s guilt. It was wrong (if wrong was a real concept) to spoil something pure, but if she was really the worst thing that was going to happen to this kid in his teenage years, he was pretty darn lucky. At least he was getting some introspection out of the deal. Could he have gotten a tarot deck from the discount bookstore two blocks over for a quarter of what she was going to charge him, or thought everything out on his own for free? Yes. But he was also some bushy tailed high school kid; could happen wasn’t the same thing as would happen.

She’d had more instructions to give, some arbitrary waving of hands and maybe some visualization in what one of her co-workers called her ‘yoga voice’, but Louis, in his eagerness, had taken more than the requisite three cards she had planned on, wich just meant she had a ready-made excuse for the forty dollars she was going to take from him. “My, my, aren’t we eager?” She said. “What’s interesting to me already is that you have intuitively drawn out one of the more complex and energy taxing card spreads. Imperfectly, but--” She straightened them out at random until they made more of a geometric pattern. “See? I barely did anything at all. These cards must really like you. I don’t normally do something this involved, but it looks like there’s something here that wants to come out, and I’m not in the business of stifling anyone’s growth or energy.”

Morgan flipped the first card over to reveal The Fool and managed to keep her laughter light and soft. “Well, even if I hadn’t been doing this for so long, this is you, where you are right now. Don’t take the title personally, these are antiquated terms. He’s just young, and at the start of a great journey, not even begun, just on the precipice. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and the sun, see? It’s shining on him to show that the universe is aligned with his desires. The world wants you to support you, wants to see you succeed.”

The second card. The Tower. Morgan’s eyes widened. Not really vibing with the story she’d been telling, but maybe the one after… Eight of Cups. Morgan flipped over the last ones. Death and The Moon. “Hmm...Fascinating...” Morgan said, stalling for a way to spin this. “The thing about the major arcana is the magnitude of forces. Forces like destiny and fate and the collective consciousness. These forces are bigger than a ten minute fight with your friends or what you want to do after graduation, these are ‘beyond your control’. And you have four. The universe really does have plans for you, that’s kind of exciting, right?” She smiled, hoping to get some confirmation from him, or at least some more of his trust. “What does your intuition tell you about this journey, honey?”

Morgan’s performative coaxing elicited a dubious look, but the striking illustrations of the Tarot drew Luis’ attention regardless. The fool was poised with one foot over the cliff, smiling blissfully as the sun warmed his back. The tower’s blackened crenellations tumbled down the cliffside as the once indomitable edifice was battered into ruins by a storm. A haggard traveler slumped down in relief on a river bank as eight golden chalice stood resplendent over the churning rapids. Death rode on its pale horse, a scythe clutched in one skeletal hand while offering an exquisitely detailed rose. The Moon slept in the sky above a verdant shore. Wolves howled in its light while pelagic creatures breached on the lunar tide.

“Woah that art on these is something else,” admitted Luis as he squinted at the intricate illuminations, clearly sensitive to aesthetics but not the higher esoteric meaning.

Unfortunately intuition is only as good as the experiences which inform it and Luis Martinez had been sheltered from the world’s cruelty. It was a blessing to be sure, but it also made Luis unable to imagine that evil doesn’t need consent to claim you.

“My intuition is uh,” floundered the young man who had about as much affinity for divination as the average block of cedar. “The ranch’ll catch on fire, maybe a relative will die, but we’ll find like eight things that’ll make it better before the next full moon,” Luis posited.

Morgan’s stomach rumbled as the boy ogled the artwork on the cards. She was tempted to commend the kid on his ‘uncanny insight’ into the realm of the divine and take her money and run down the street for a hot stack of tacos. But the kid was so bright eyed and easily awed. She felt like she owed him at least some of her knowledge, even if she thought the tarot was psychological self-talk at best.

“Fortunately for your relatives, nothing here is quite that literal,” she said, laughing warmly. “But this journey you’re on, both within and without, is going to be perilous.” Perilous to the point of being seriously dangerous and traumatic, if this really was his subconscious sensing something on the horizon. But that wasn’t something she was going to say to his face. She wanted money without having to lie to her mother about where it came from later. “Even though your desires are upheld by the earth and stars, there will come a time when it feels as though you’ve been cast out and lost everything. But the key to staying your course is to…” What was a precious uplift-y way to spin this? “Hold fast to your sense of self. Remember the core of who you are and what you want. Because, if you do, then you will survive the upheavals, and you will be able to choose wisely what to keep, what to leave behind, and end up so strong, it’ll feel like you’ve been resurrected and leveled up into a new, better, cooler version of yourself!” She had no idea how to make sense of the moon card in a positive five star customer service rating sort of way, so she moved it underneath the spread, smiling like this had been her master plan all along.

“This card with the moon and the wolves isn’t your endgame, it’s an indicator of the vehicle, the thing that encompases the whole. All this massive change ahead of you isn’t necessarily going to be visible to everyone. It comes from within, sometimes hidden, like how you can only see the stars when it’s dark out and most of the world is asleep, and wolves howl when the world is in shadows. It’s like that. And it’s going to be amazing.”

Morgan checked her watch and slumped back in her chair as if she were exhausted. Not a hard thing to do when it was this hot out. “So, that’s gonna be forty dollars for the energy and the insight. Technically, with how many cards you pulled, it should be a little more, but I can tell you’re taking a risk on something new here and I want to honor that. But we can keep going if you have any more questions!”

“Vehicle huh...not sure dad’s gonna let me spraypaint moons and wolves on the truck,” Luis mused, perhaps taking the ‘vehicle’ thing a bit too literally or not wanting to think too hard about the possibility of his life changing.

Luis looked over the intricately illustrated cards, eyebrows wrinkling as he tried to parse through the profound chicanery Morgan had spouted. A bite of the lower lip hinted that Luis had never really encountered those who could appear to say everything while stating nothing particularly specific.

“Well shiiiii..,” the teenager breathed before glancing up at Morgan and catching himself with a small hssk of inhalation, as if some inner parental voice had scolded him about cursing in front of a lady. “That was pretty cool,” he amended, clearly at a loss before everything he’d been told, too polite to claim he didn’t believe any of it, but also too much a child of modernity to heed the weird feeling in his gut that recognized something...hit different...about this chance prophecy.

Luis grinned bashfully and unknowingly let fate’s final warning pass him by.

“Forty bucks huh, I’ll havta explain that somehow,” the young man noted with the mild consternation of someone blessed enough to just worry about a family member who’d be more peeved about gas money going to “fortuneteller” then the actual cash itself.

The bills slid across the table after some awkward wallet-riffling. “Thank you ma’am.”

Morgan snatched up the bills and shoved them down her shirt before the kid could change his mind. Whatever ominous feelings his subconscious were trying to air out was no concern for her. She had too many problems of her own to bother with anyone else’s. “It takes a long time to read the cards,” she drawled smugly. “And lots of energy, to open oneself and reach beyond the veil.” She waved her fingers as if to say tootles, and went back to fanning herself until he was gone.

She helped a lady find some yarrow and made up a policy about consultation fees to get another $10 in her pocket. She was using her agency to bridge the gap between minimum shop girl wage and living wage, working her will to get the right kind of energy flowing her way. Mostly, the energy of not-starving and not invoking the ire of darkness from using alchemy to get ahead. It didn’t line up with the rest of what she understood, neutral magic forces should be lining up to help her right her cosmic access and be less chronically miserable, but that was a problem to untangle another day.

At the end of her shift, Morgan shuffled the cards once again and lined them up on the cleansing plate the shopkeeper wanted the used decks put on. By chance, or so she told herself, she picked up the topmost card to see what was there for her. But it was just the death card, and Morgan knew the last thing that was gonna happen to her life was a hard reset. She stuck it back in the middle of the deck and slipped away into the long shadows that marked the summer evening.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Not even a prompt, really. It's the opening of a whole darn 12k fic in progress that happened over the weekend. @everyone in my discord chat: you enabled me!

To get the proper atmosphere for this, it is recommended that you turn off the lights and turn up the volume on the soundtrack of Netflix's Castlevania, composed by Trevor Morris. I am stealing its vibes and I'm not giving them back.

🧛‍♂️🦇🕷

________________________________________

Few men approached the Mustafar mountain range with any hope of returning alive. Five guards in the livery of the Baron Jabba of the Hutts rode up the rocky path in tense silence. The tallest peak, a dormant volcano, seemed to glower down at them. In the old days, the Order of the Jedi had lived in watchtowers along the range, protecting the people on either side from the dangers within the mountains. Those days ended when the banner that had always flown over Bast Castle was torn down, presumably alongside the great paladin who had once lived there.

Now the Red Horde roamed freely, killing and blighting at will under the direction of their master, the dread Emperor of Darkness. Who he was, no man could say, but it was rumored that he lived far to the south in the country of Naboo. In his stead, the vampire lord Darth Vader commanded the northern arm of the mighty Horde. And he had set his eye on the lands held by Jabba.

The cart approached Bast Castle, and its shadow seemed to swallow them up.

"I hope you appreciate the view, scum." The guard sitting in the back of the wagon roughly elbowed their prisoner. "Gonna be the last thing you ever see."

[[MORE]]

The prisoner, a scrawny young boy, did not even look up. He kept his attention on his futile efforts to untie himself.

When they raised the flag of truce, a portcullis set into vast pillars of stone was raised, opening the way to where the castle squatted on the side of the mountain. It seemed empty as they rolled over a bridge, but even the boy knew that it was a false calm. Wraiths waited wherever the light did not shine, and they had doubtless already informed their master. 

And sure enough, at the end of the bridge an ominous figure stood before a brass gate emblazoned with dragons. He was dressed for battle in armor so black it seemed to swallow all light that touched it. From beneath an elaborate helmet, yellow eyes blazed. They narrowed as the guards halted the wagon and dragged the boy out in front of them. 

"And what, pray tell, is this?" 

The dark lord stared down at the baron's men with thinly veiled distaste. 

"Consider it a token of...neighborly goodwill," one of them grunted, shoving the bound boy forward. "Our lord baron hopes to establish an amicable relationship between our forces, and sends a gift. The whelp is Jedi-spawn. Do what you will, but leave our city be."

The boy raised his head defiantly and glared at his captors out of a black eye. Vader noted with a detached interest that he could not have been older than twelve. 

"And what makes you think the death of this so-called Jedi spawn will save you?" Darth Vader asked scornfully. 

The lead guard prodded the boy roughly. "The Baron is willing to cooperate. He knows you've got bad blood with those excommunicated soldier monks, right? Well the brat's sire was one of the strongest. He's a Skywalker."

Vader's eyes snapped down to the boy again. He had heard such claims before. Each time they had proved to be false. But this one… On closer inspection, he could see a resemblance. The blue eyes, the shaggy blonde hair...and a barely noticeable birthmark on one cheek. Just like her. Impossible.

"Well?" he asked, affecting a bored tone, "Are you?"

The boy bared his teeth. "I'm Luke Skywalker," he snapped. "Do you remember my father, Anakin Skywalker?" His voice faltered. "They s- they say you killed him."

For a long time, the dark lord was silent. Then, like a breath of frost he hissed, "Do they? Do they indeed?"

He spared a glance at the guards, then at this...Luke. There were too many similarities. The magic of his Life Force crackled around the alleged Skywalker, like lightning drawn to metal. It was worth investigating, at least. He made up his mind and stepped closer to the boy.

"Well then. There are so few diversions in bringing order to this human land. Let us play a little game, Skywalker. If you can find some evidence of your father's supposed death in my castle, you are free to go. If, however, you have found nothing by sunrise, your fate is mine to decide."

He raised a hand, and black tendrils of his Force snaked out to tear the rope from Luke's wrists. The child gaped, wary and startled by the action. 

"Night approaches swiftly, boy," Vader said wryly, "Your time grows short."

Still watching him, Luke edged around him and backed slowly into the dark recesses of the castle Bast. A cold smirk lifted the corner of Vader's mouth. His castle was a labyrinth. Only a Skywalker would be able to find the inner sanctum, and even then, he would not reach it before dawn. That was time enough to discover the truth...and to leave these foolish guards' heads over the portcullis as a warning to the baron. Darth Vader was not so easily assuaged. Especially if they truly had just tried to hold a Skywalker for ransom.

"So that's it then," Jabba's guardsman grunted. "If the deal's concluded, we'll be off."

Very slowly, Vader turned on his heel. "What deal?" he asked with a dangerous smile.