#sorry for disappearing for a billion years life is very busy!

[urielsdaybreak]

mmm yes gae

more gae

[selkymaiden]

3, 4, 14, 35, 38, 42, 49 for sophie x 🐧 and galina x pendleclowns (i'm absolutely obsessed with sophie lord her vibes are IMMACULATE 😩💖)

flkajlkfjwlkerj thank you for the ask!!!! and oh gosh PLS I'm sorry for the DC brainrot. I just come here and reblog a billion things and then disappear. Thank you for being a mutual and sticking through the years it seems flkawer. Also thank you for enjoying my dumb DC oc. I'm cringe but i'm free~ ALSO IT GOT LONG MY BAD

3. What was their first impression of each other?

I kind of answered this one already but I'll try to describe it a bit differently? flkaer I will copy and paste the first part though: So the verse I have them is G*tham at the 10-year time skip, so he's been out of Blackgate for maybe 6 months now?

So as far as when they both met neither was impressed with each other. He just thought she was a low lackey working for Black Mask and was at his club just snooping. Thought she was a complete amateur at her job, so like a spy or something. She on the other hand has no respect for him and was actually at his newly reopened club because she was trying to headhunt good bartenders LMAO. She literally showed up to steal his staff if they were good. So it was not good all around.

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

Sophie does for sure! She's more confident and emotionally available than [Foghorn blares] But that's because she's had a better time in life than him for sure. And for 🐧 it probably has to do with what he's had to deal with in his past, so it's not even 'gotta be macho and keep up appearances' but more worried it could be a weakness. Has even been told it's a weakness for anything affectionate and love and he has even told others it's a weakness. So he's insecure and self-conscious about it so it's harder for him to be genuine about reaching out so to speak. But if it's fake affection or charm he has no problem being manipulating. But real affection and initiating it? He'd rather just kill the other person so there's no evidence. But he gets better later on.

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

At the beginning no. Mainly because he makes it awkward and it pisses her off because she doesn't understand how a man older than her (if only slightly) can't just give a goddamn kiss! But they learn what each other likes and how to approach that it gets better and she especially likes when he kisses the back of her hand. But they're more private, yet if together long enough they'd be the couple who has no problem kissing in front of the henchmen.

35. Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

lmaaaoooooooooo yes, ma'am, gotta keep it on the downlow! Although how do I describe it? It's sort of a screwball comedy at first because [redacted] is trying to get Sophie on his team to take back G*tham. But she won't join unless for a really, really good reason. But he knows she can be swayed by emotions so he thinks he can get her to like him and that'll work and it does but it backfires because he ends up liking her more. But there is no love in the time of gang wars so everything needs to look business and nothing personal to the outside world. He tried to play games and got fucked up.

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Oh. Easy. The dumb bird. 🐧 has temper tantrums still but she's a master of babysitting after working with Black Mask for so long.

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Well.... He has no family left and very few, if any, friends left. Except maybe Edward Nigma. So for Sophie she does get along with The Riddler. Probably because she's first of all a criminal also and has definitely done her fair share of bad things so she doesn't judge Edward or at least preaches to him about some of the shit he's done. Also, she's pretty smart and gets his references well enough. She's not good at riddles and doesn't care for puzzles but she understands what he's talking about so he recognizes that and it's good enough. And as far as 🐧 getting along with her friends/family- Well, like him her family has passed, but her friends she has a few and I haven't explored it all yet. Her friend that is someone else's OC who works at Arkham they'd probably get along, maybe? He'd probably be wary at first because obv he had the worst time when he was sent to Arkham. But with her other friend Mina, he'd probably find that friend annoying LOL. Mina is her oldest friend and comes before a lot of people so maybe he'd be jealous of how close they are.

49. Do they keep secrets from each other?

Oh for sure. [Foghorn noises] Schemes and manipulates, just does business on his own terms and his own ways and barely lets people in on the plot. Or at least the whole plot. Maybe he'll give a few things away but never the whole story. When he becomes more trusting of her and sees she's a good chess piece on the board that is G*tham he lets her in on more things.

And for her! LMAO well I made her a Homo Magi, so think Zatanna but not as powerful. But she's defiantly not telling him she can do magic, at least not for a while. That's a bargaining chip that's kept her alive so far with Black Mask so she keeps it close.

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

hehehe and now for my terrible noble galina x PENDLECLOWNs

3. What was their first impression of each other?

I almost want to just say they all saw each other as wild, uncultivated. Uncultured. What have you. So Galina looking at all these people of Dunwall and especially the twins she's like just... They're petty and flounce around saying things but back up none of it except more nasty things. Just no action and they even are in poor taste by avoiding duels. Unmanly. And for the two clowns, they think of her just as uncultured and wild coming from Tyvia of all places. A frozen tundra thats basically a totalitarian police state who overthrew their nobility to turn, what they think, is like idk the equivalent if they have a novel in Dumbwall like Animal Farm. Because she is nobility but it's frowned upon now in Tyvia because of the island's history. So like shun her or make her feel unfit to be anything but common.

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

Galina and Morgan do the most I'd like to think. Galina for sure as she likes the pleasures of flesh and generally just doing things that can be seen as barbaric or should not be shown in public. And Morgan simply because he's the better of the two twins, imo, in the head at least when it comes to affection. ALTHOUGH Galina would much rather have Custis be the more affectionate one. And who knows why he doesn't initiate it more, maybe he's jealous of how easy it is for Morgan and Galina to be with each other, and when he tries he fails. He gives up easily and would rather have to put no work into any sort of relationship so he'll just go to the golden cat instead.

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

Galina for sure, then Morgan, and lastly Custis. Also, it's probably more private on the whole as everyone has to keep up their appearances. But Galina will defiantly do it just to get a rise or to be shocking, or to be annoying in public, especially at a party. But real genuine PDA is more private if that makes sense? Like if she's been invited to their manor she and the twins have no problem kissing in front of staff at some point when they turn their little hate party into a party of three that are def doing the nasty. BUT NOT AT THE SAME TIME. LMAO I think I mentioned that they do not do threesomes. But she has def had the twins just always at different times.

35. Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

Maybe at first but that was because the Twins just thought of her as a savage or it could hurt how they look. But even though her nobility is sort of up in the air because Tyvia is like Big X to the nobility but because of her business and what she does so well she has A LOT of money. So they try to think of her as nouveau rich, even though she's not, but it's better than a fallen Tyvian noble. So after everyone gets over themselves they have no problem just being 'yeah we've fucked what of it?'

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

OHHHHH Custis for sure. Galina loves and hates it. Sometimes she tries to goad Morgan but Custis is her favorite. But that's because she's toxic and likes to fight and be entertained, also when she makes it stressful for Custis she's more likely to get him to break or bend to her and then she'll do what she pleases. Someitmes it's nice and just holds him and gets him to shockingly snuggle or something sweet, otherwise she'll just fuck with him.

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Well. The twins will never meet Galina's sisters LOL Her two sisters would never dream of leaving Tyvia, how they have themselves set up they're good. They make Galina leave to do their bidding and her own business to the other isles. Also, I doubt the twins would have, and will never (depending on their ending) meet her family or friends since they'd never go to Tyvia. At least that's what I'd imagined based on how they are. But for her meeting or knowing the twins family... She does actually find Treavor cute but he's got no bite to him. She likes to chase and she likes to play games and find Treavor a bit boring but sweet. So he'd be maybe good husband material since she feels she could get him to do anything she wanted. LOL manipulate. And... Do the twins have friends? The nobility of Dumbwall is very interesting to her and she'll find ways to just make everything funny to her. So probably does not get a long with their friends but is sort of respected since she's good at playing mind games like the rest of them.

49. Do they keep secrets from each other?

Probably? Mostly the twins keep secrets from her. She on the other hand has no problem with just talking about anything openly. She does not shy away from politics or personal matters. Like when the rat plague starts she's literally 'peace out.' Like even says goodbye and doesn't just disappear or 'Oh i need to leave in the middle of the night all dramatic.' Nah, goes straight to their faces and says good luck but I gotta go home.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I���m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[justcourttee]

Adrien asks mari out and she says i would of been so happy in the past but now its too little to late. She's engaged to Damian but they haven't announced it yet

Bittersweet

It had been a while since Adrien had found himself in Gotham City. Too many years to count on his hand. Yet when he received an invite from Marinette he didn’t hesitate to hop on the next flight to attend her gala.

He had no idea that she had created a partnership with Wayne Enterprises, in fact, he had no idea they were interested in the fashion world at all. Then again, why should he be surprised? When Marinette put her mind to something, nothing would get in her way.

Ever since he had taken over his father’s company, Adrien hadn’t had much time to keep up with his old school friends but it hadn’t stopped them from trying to keep him in the loop. From what he could gather, Alya and Nino would also be attending, Rose and Juleka too. It would be nice to see them all again, especially Marinette.

Stepping out from the warmth of his hotel room and into the cool streets, Adrien couldn’t help but let his mind drift to thoughts of her.

It took Marinette moving to the States for him to realize how much he was in love with her. It was something he never wanted to admit seeing how much he adored Ladybug, but as she disappeared from his grasps, he was left to face his true feelings.

Glancing at his phone, Adrien confirmed that he was mere minutes away from the address she had listed. The gala was still a few days away, but Marinette asked if he had wanted to meet up for a late-night coffee, a Gotham specialty. Even her scarf that she had gifted him ages ago couldn’t hide the red on his cheeks as he imagined the perfect date with the girl of his dreams.

He paused, reaching the door of Deja Brew, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Somewhere in this late-night shop was his best friend. How would she react to seeing him again? Would she be as excited as he was? Would she feel the same way as she did?

Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door, his eyes glancing through the scattered exhausted customers until they landed on her. She still hadn’t noticed his presence, her nose buried into her sketchbook, her coffee still steaming beside her seemingly untouched.

She was early.

The thought almost drew a laugh as he approached the counter to place his order. Of course she would have finally picked up some time management skills by now. Marinette was 27 and slowly making a name for herself as the future of the fashion industry. That wasn’t something accomplished by constant tardiness.

He picked up his cup, placing a ten into the tip jar, the hostess’ raised eyebrows making him smile. He could already hear his father scolding him. After all, that wasn’t the way to becoming a billionaire. You only make money by holding onto it.

Honestly, Adrien didn’t understand why he had to be a billionaire. His father said it would raise the bar for their line, but it just wasn’t in Adrien’s heart to hoard all of the money unnecessarily. Maybe the Waynes offered Marinette the same advice. Maybe they had something they could relate to together.

“Excuse me ma’am, is this seat taken?”

His heart had finally slowed down but as her eyes slowly peeked up at him under her lashes, it immediately began somersaulting once more.

“Oh Gods, Adrien!” She was out of her seat before he even had the chance to set down his coffee, her arms flung around his neck. He hoped and prayed she couldn’t feel his chest threatening to explode. “You should have said something! I’ve gotten into the bad habit of zoning out in public places.”

Her smile was blinding as she unwound herself, slipping back into her seat, motioning for him to sit as well.

“How was the flight? Did you fly private or first class?”

Adrien gasped, his hand covering his chest as if she had shot him.

“I only flew business thank you very much.” Marinette’s look of mock disbelief earned a small chuckle.

“That must have been so hard for you. I really am sorry you went through so much trouble for my sake.”

“You know, I would go through so much more for you Marinette.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, so quick that if he hadn’t been staring so hard at her, he might have missed it. Did his statement make her uncomfortable? He had only meant it jokingly with the truth laced in, but he was sure his eyes gave him away. They always softened when it came to her.

Marinette cleared her voice, her true smile shining once more as if the falter never happened in the first place.

“You’ve missed so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?” She nodded as she dove into her move to the States and how she began as an intern for the CEO, Tim Drake, years ago and slowly worked her way up to personal assistant.

She recounted how Tim found her sketchbook at work one day and showed it to his father. Together they agreed that she was their way into the fashion industry, an investment that could open the door to many more jobs for the Gotham citizens.

It took two years, but she finally had a full line that was presented at Bruce’s first fashion show.

“So many big names were there Adrien! I really thought I was gonna faint!”

His smile became softer and softer as she recounted meeting the rest of the Waynes and finally after six long years, she had made enough of a name for herself to be holding her own official Gala, the Wayne’s simply a sponsor.

“That’s amazing Marinette, you’re amazing.”

She beamed proudly, her smile pulling at his heart.

“I couldn’t have done it without them. They are genuine and kind people and they are pretty much family.” Something glistened in her eyes as she spoke of them. It could have been obvious to anyone, Marinette cared so deeply for these people.

It was Adrien’s turn to falter as an ugly thought passed.

She’s so comfortable here, she would never want to come back to Paris with me.

He was shocked with himself. This was no time for jealousy. His best friend, the love of his life, was excitedly telling him about a future she had built for herself and the only thing he could think was that it was an obstacle keeping her from him?

Adrien desperately wanted to smack his own forehead, but for Marinette’s sake he straightened out his smile instead.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only been talking about myself! What’s new with you? How’s your dad’s business? Do you have anyone you’re seeing?”

His eyebrow raised at the last question. She asked the question he so desperately wanted to ask her. And she did it so casually, equating it to his work and social life. Did that mean she was also fishing for his response?

“Nothing much. Dad wants to move from a multi-million dollar business to a multi-billion dollar business so he’s been pretty aggressive about money lately. He didn’t even want me flying over here for the gala.”

Marinette snorted much to his amusement. She knew how his dad was and how petty he could be as well.

“And as for your last question,” he paused watching her face carefully. “No, I am not seeing anyone.”

He waited for the reaction, any reaction really. But none came. Instead, she simply nodded as if she expected as much. Maybe he had read into it too much. She really could’ve just been asking for the sake of catching up. Should he ask too? Was that what she was leading up to?

Adrien cleared his throat before taking a long draw from his cup. This was so nerve wracking. She looked so content, so grown. This was a Marinette who had grown leaps and bounds while he was still stuck in this high school romance that was quite possibly one-sided.

“Well, I hate to cut it short but it’s going to be a long day tomorrow and Damian will be here any moment to pick me up.”

She slid out of her seat so effortlessly, her sketch book snapping shut before it disappeared into a bag that he hadn’t even noticed. Her smile was just as warm as he remembered, but something was missing from the girl he loved.

“Your eyes.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Marinette’s smile faltered as she tentatively reached up to touch her eyelid, confusion etching it’s way into her face.

“Is there something near my eyes Adrien?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-” Adrien bit his lip, trying to string his thoughts together before he sounded even more like an idiot. “You used to stare at me with such soft look. I’m sorry I never noticed, but once I did, it was all I could see. Yet now-”

He trailed off as her lips drew into an o, her hand moving slowly from her eye to her lips, trying to hide her shock.

“-now, I can still feel the love in them, love directed at me, but it’s not the same love is it?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the right words. He knew she was trying to explain that he was wrong, but couldn’t bring herself to lie. It was the only confirmation he needed.

He slid out of the booth, his hand grasping the scarf slipping from his neck.

“Marinette, I was so excited when you invited me out tonight. In fact, I thought of it as a date.” She tried to reach out, but Adrien took a step back, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all, please don’t think I’m saying all this to make you feel guilty. I just had to get it off my chest.”

Adrien blinked hard, trying to spill the tears clouding his vision. This was harder to say than he thought. Her eyes were so distracting, the sympathy oozing toward him in waves.

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I know you’ve made your life here and I would never dream of taking that from you. Hell, if you asked me to, I would drop everything to be at your side in an instance. Is there any chance at all that after the gala ends, we could give this a shot? Just one real date. Not some deluded fantasy I created in my head, but something we both consent to.”

He flinched when her hand finally made contact with his upper arm.

“Adrien, I love you. I really do. But you were right when you said my eyes had changed. That soft look is meant for someone else now. He and I had tried to keep our relationship quiet, but tomorrow at the gala, I was going to announce my engagement to Damian.”

Adrien couldn’t help the small sob that left his mouth. He was painfully aware of the few scattered glances all directed toward him, but he couldn’t help it. He felt Marinette pulling his head down until it laid resting on her shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his figure. It was embarrassing how hard he cried, unable to hold back his sobs any longer.

“I’m so sorry Adrien, I had no idea your feelings had changed. You were always chasing after a dream when we were younger and when I left Paris, I had finally decided that there wasn’t a chance after all between us.”

He knew she meant her words as a comfort, a promise that at one point, she would have gladly accepted his offer. Why couldn’t he have seen it earlier? Why was he so blinded by a partner who never even revealed herself right to the end? He had someone who trusted and loved him with all of their being and he ignored their feelings for a what if.

Adrien slowly pulled himself from her grasp, his smile shaky. He took a moment to use the end of his scarf to dry his soaked face.

“I’m glad you told me that Marinette. I really am. And I hope you and Damian have a long and prosperous life together.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming the wait, but he was already out of the door, running. It was a cowards move, one he would mull over all night. But it was too painful to look into the eyes of one you love and only find pity reflecting in them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So you came?”

Adrien turned, his smile bittersweet as he embraced Alya, his fist connecting with Nino’s outstretched hand.

“How could I not support her? She’s worked so hard to make this a reality. My feelings can take a backburner for one night.”Their eyes all trailed to the center of the room where she stood, her arm threaded through with the man he assumed to be Damian Wayne. “Besides, you can tell. She loves that man beside her more than anything in this world.”

The glint of the ring on her finger caused an aching in his heart. Despite it all, he really did wish the Wayne boy no ill will. If he was who Marinette chose to spend the rest of her life with, then Adrien trusted her decision.

“I’ve never seen her smile so bright. And to think, I used to believe her smile was at its maximum blindlingness.” Nino’s chuckle earned a small chuckle from Adrien as well.

There was no denying it.

Marinette was where she belonged. The only thing left was for him to support her in any way that he could. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

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[morlock-holmes]

hi, pragerU anon here. i was indeed not using capitalism as a snarl word but as the source that drives the current development in art.

a big example for movies would be the fact that all sequels/live action remakes are created for marketability/brand recognition but also very much copyright renewal! which is very capitalist in structure and motivation imo, creating media with maximum mass appeal for maximum profit etc. aaaaaaand in a different system this might not be the case at all, in fact, we might have all the current franchises be part of the public domain maybe, or maybe they would never have had a copyright in the first place! :)

like yeah, disney having a film monopoly is bad, but its very much capitalism that is the reason WHY disney has a film monopoly in the first place! and why it consolidates all its characters in its crossover multiverses (profit incentive), and why it makes a billion bland brainrotting superhero movies (profit incentive), and why it gives "representation" but not so much that it could conceivably upset any homophobe/transphobe (profit incentive) and why it makes movies that kinda "critique capitalism" but not to the point where anyone would want to do anything about it, and why it makes perfectly timed mediocre remakes for copyright renewals (copyright...incentive?).

thus, all creative choices and all content/story choices for any given film are lovingly permeated by the tendrils of the capitalist beast <3 and we know it's not the first time either! vertical integration in the film industry was considered a large enough problem before, to the point where the United Stated actually sued Paramount for example. not sure how common knowledge that is? nowadays the monopolies are horizontally integrated, so it's "fine" i guess....

anyway sorry for the wall of text, just wanted to clarify i didn't just jumble random buzzwords together in the first ask, the words do have purpose ^^

Sure, I get you.

There is one misconception here, (I am not a lawyer, but) under US law Disney doesn't need to renew a lot of their copyrights, copyrighted works in the US created after 1978 automatically get their full term. For earlier works, there's no requirement that they be published.

The Berne Convention, which the vast, vast majority of countries in the world are signatories to, means that, essentially, Disney's works receive the same protection in all the nations that they would in the US, so they don't have to renew in foreign countries either.

You are likely thinking of Trademarks, which do in fact expire if not consistently used.

The extreme length of copyright in the US (life of the author plus an additional 70 years. For an anonymous work, a pseudonymous work, or a work made for hire, the copyright endures for a term of 95 years from the year of its first publication or a term of 120 years from the year of its creation, whichever expires first.) is absolutely rooted in economic motives.

It took a while for businesses to really understand this, but building loyalty to an IP is very good for business. If people are big fans of Steven Spielberg movies, well, that gives Spielberg leverage to extract things from Disney or threaten to move somewhere else. If people are big fans of dinosaur movies, any studio can make those. But if people are big fans of Jurassic Park movies, Disney has a monopoly on those and nobody can pry that away from them until around 2088 at which point much of its vitality and relevance will have disappeared anyway.

So Disney has an economic incentive to treat Jurassic Park as a brand, and artistic decisions are going to be made with long-term brand management in mind.

It's not just profit motive: It's how the owners of an artwork make money off of it in a specific capitalist milieu with the presence of extraordinarily long copyright duration, easily distributed mass media and a high tolerance for monopoly.

But the fact that we live in a capitalist society is not at all incidental to the decisions being made here.

[btsmutimagines]

Our Future

Look, I suck at titles, y’all and I’m a day late ffs but happy birthday Kookie 

Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.5K (I really need to stop)

Grey skies arched above you as you walked home, kicking a small pebble along with you until it got caught between a crack in the sidewalk.

You audibly sigh, enjoying yourself as you kicked it further and further each time. It was almost like you were that pebble, your life seeming to be pushed by something until it stops.

You were stuck, just like your little pebble.

You finally reached your house, unlocking the front door and noticing the familiar shoes. They were shined up and as uninvited as usual but their owner paid no mind to what you thought, clearly.

The back of your father’s head greeted you as you stepped into the living room and he put down the newspaper he was reading.

You brace yourself, knowing he came to talk to you about something. He never really looked for a conversation, just a breathing punching bag.

“Hello, father.”

“I expected you to be home sooner.”

“I hadn’t expected any guests.”

“Maybe if you answered my phone calls once in a while.”

“You don’t pick up when I call back.”

“I’ve been busy, Y/N.” When are you not? You silently retorted in your mind.

“What did you need to say, father?”

“I’d like you to come to dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“I rather not.”

“Tell me why? Is there something unpleasant about a father and daughter enjoying a nice dinner together?”

“When have we ever done anything ‘nice’, father?” He cocked an eyebrow, he knew damn well that your relationship was far from any loving familial ties.

If you had it your way, he won’t ever know where to find you.

“The Blanche, seven o’clock. I’ll have Hyunjin pick you up.” He adjusted his tie, standing up to walk away and you clenched your fists.

You wanted to yell, at least tell him off for coming over uninvited to force you into some weird dinner. But you merely stood as he brushed past you, you standing in your spot until you heard your front door shut.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ─── 

This morning, you found a box with a card attached in front of your door.

You could tell from the intricate design on the card, it was from your father. Inside was a gorgeous red dress, the off-shoulder design along with the leg slit satisfying your tastes.

You held up the dress, looking in the full-length mirror and imagining yourself in it.

“As if he would know what I liked.” You scoffed to yourself, pulling the dress back on your bed. He probably just sent off one of his servants to find something for you.

Even so, what would be so important that he would send you something to wear? You were his well-kept secret, him wanting you to keep yourself hidden from his life for appearances.

He couldn’t afford to be distracted, he said. In exchange for you disappearing from his life, he sends a weekly allowance that you’ve been saving in a separate account.

Maybe one day when you’re finished, you can pack up your things and truly disappear. Nothing was tying you down to this city anyways.

Bzzt.

You heard your phone vibrate, a text notification appearing on the screen.

Incoming in 5, 4, 3, 2…

“One!” You heard your friend, Yeseul entering your apartment and you put to the dress back into its box hastily.

“Where are you?”

“Bedroom.” She wandered in, quickly embracing you in a hug and you stood still. You’ve been friends since freshman year, Yeseul being the only one who put up with you.

You didn’t mind hanging out with her but you didn’t put your eggs into her basket yet.

Memories of your ‘friends’ asking you to hang out, racking up a huge bill and then making excuses to leave you to pay each time. Your dad even got on your case, interrogating why you spent so much each week. He cut you off, only giving you enough for lunch and your so-called friends were suddenly too busy for you.

How naïve.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Zoning out, burning imaginary holes into the last thing you looked at. You know, the usual.”

“I was just thinking, Seul.”

“Well stop that, we got other things to do.”

“We? What are you roping me into now?”

“Why do you say that like I only get you into trouble?”

“Because you do.” You deadpanned, you haven’t forgotten the time she thought it was a good idea to stay for after-hours when there’s a curfew in place. You had to dip into the savings to pay off the ticket you got.

“It’s harmless fun, Y/N.”

“That citation definitely harmed my savings.” You muttered.

“Anyways, listen. You and me, dancing and drinking at Hoseok’s party tonight. Sounds like a dream, right?”

“A nightmare, actually.”

“Come on, Hoseok was gracious enough to invite me with a plus one, meaning you.”

“I have to pass.”

“Why?”

“I have plans. Dinner plans, actually.”

“Who’s the mystery man? He must be worth your time since you’re passing up an offer from me.” She knows damn well you would pass up any party with or without plans.

“That’s not important. I just don’t think I can miss this dinner. Sorry.”

“So secretive. I expect no less though.”

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I’ll take enough shots for both of us.”

“Remember to drink water in between and eat something too.”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips, leaving your apartment right after and you sat on your bed. You shook off the tension, checking the time and preparing yourself for this dinner.

Whatever it’s about, you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it.

You were adjusting your necklace when you hear a knock at your door. Opening the door revealed Hyunjin, one of your father’s drivers. He was newer than the others but devoted to your father like the others.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Y/N is fine. Take me to where I need to go, please.”

“As you wish, Y/N.” You took his arm, locking your door behind you and followed him to the car. The unease settled in when he started driving, part of you that you just went to that party with Yeseul.

Maybe she wouldn’t make that pointed comment and you would send your father a message.

Alas, here you are, walking into the Blanche like the little good girl he expected you to be. Wearing the dress he picked for you, even putting in the useless effort of making yourself presentable to only be met with him scowling at his phone.

“Hello to you too.”

“Ah, so you did come. Glad to see you have the decency to clean yourself up.”

“I rather you tell me why am I here instead of having this conversation with you.”

“First, sit.”

“I don’t plan on staying.”

“Then, change your plan. I have very important people that you have to meet arriving soon and it would be rude to stand there as you are.” You grit your teeth, sitting across from your father and crossing your arms.

A waiter braved his way to your table, filling up your water glass while you shot daggers at your father. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to even hint at who these ‘very important people’ are and why it should somehow matter to you?

You thought the deal was you wouldn’t even say your father’s name in passing and he could live his life freely. No burden of you.

“Ah, Younghee.” Your father got up, making you turn your head to look at a woman who was walking towards your table.

God, was he going to tell you that he was marrying this woman? Why would you even care if he gets remarried?

“I’m terribly late again, aren’t I?”

“Hardly. Is he here as well?” He? Was there a man accompanying her? Her son?

“Of course, he’s an important part of this conversation.”

“That is right. Oh, I almost forgot, this is Y/N, Younghee.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“How polite. Ah, you’re more beautiful than I thought.”

“Thank you very much.” Currently wishing the ground would swallow you whole, right about now. At least before this other guest shows up.

“Oh, Jungkook, darling, over here.” She waved someone over you, this time you stared forward. You froze as this man took a seat next to you. Fuck, you should have ditched when you still had the chance.

“Pardon my mother and I’s tardiness, sir.”

“It’s quite alright, Jungkook. All that matters is that we are all here now. Before we start, we should actually order something. Breadsticks will not get me through the night, I’m afraid.” This fucker is just going to keep dancing around the real topic for as long as he can-

“Um, I’m Jungkook. Y/N, I presume.” You looked at the man, quietly taken aback by how attractive he was. His hair was slightly parted, each hair perfectly in place. His shaped jaw highlighted his face, his pink lips were a perfect hue and he was just… perfect. But he was going to be your stepbrother, right? You shouldn’t even look at him in any other way.

“You would be right, Jungkook.”

“See, they’re already getting along.” You wanted to roll your eyes, all you did was introduce yourselves.

The waiter took your order, you quietly tapping your foot while your father acted jovial with his two guests. You only answered when addressed, quiet otherwise and hoping your food would arrive soon.

“So, Jungkook, your mother says you’re a game developer.”

“Yes, sir. Currently developing a sequel to one of my first projects.”

“My Jungkookie’s project has sold almost one billion copies globally. I’m lucky to have such a successful son.”

“Mother.”

“That’s impressive, right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You were more interested in swirling the rich wine that sat in the glass you held in your right hand than whatever this conversation was about.

“Y/N’s in university, right? I’ve heard from your father that you have multiple companies scouting you.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yup.” You said, taking a large swig and placing your glass on the table.

“Alright, enough of the small talk. Why are we really here?”

“Forgive her, Younghee, I’m afraid alcohol tends to loosen her lips. But I don’t mind cutting the chase.”

“It’s quite alright, I’m sure she wants to relax. After all, to be married so young in this day and age is a rarity.”

Married?

“Wait, excuse me. Who’s getting married?”

“You and Jungkook are getting married. Engaged for now.”

“Are you joking? This is a joke, right?”

“Had you not tell her? This is a lot to load on the child.”

“She could have seen it coming.”

“You’re too mean.” You got up, walking away from the table as you glared at your father. Of course, he would pull some shit like this with you now and then he has to remind you that he was in control.

“Y/N!” You didn’t look back, not caring about who was following you.

“Y/N, please.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“I can’t. Not when you’re like this.” You stopped, turning around to face Jungkook. He loosened his tie, his coat over his shoulder as he caught his breath.

“You know you walk fast in heels.”

“Why did you follow me anyways? Did your mom send you?”

“I came on my own. Your dad made some excuse about you being drinker than he thought, and my mom just accepted it. I figured it was more than that.”

“Even if it was, it’s none of your business.”

“Hard to say when we’re engaged now, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to get married to you, Jungkook.” He looked down, running his hand through his hair.

“Are you really okay with this, having everything in your life dictated by someone else? Don’t you want to know what it’s like to choose?”

“All I ask is that you give me a chance.”

“Jungkook.” How strong is his mother’s hold on him?

“I know that this is probably the worst thing that could happen to you, being forced to be stuck with someone like me but I want to show you who I am. Show you that I’m someone that you can fall in love with. If we don’t work, I’ll break the engagement myself.” You looked at him, his hand clasped together as he pleaded with you.

He looked so sincere, something in his eyes made you feel like he meant it.

“I’m holding you to that.” You replied, looking away from him and he pulled you into a sudden huh. Your body stiffened, not expecting the sudden skinship. He felt warm, the scent of his cologne making it hard to think of a better adjective.

“Thank you.”

“You’d be welcome if you let me go.” You blurted, not wanting to linger around him any longer.

“Sorry. Got a little too excited.” He cleared his throat, you avoid his eyes while you fiddled with your dress.

“Can I take you home?”

“If you’re okay with a few blocks.”

“Why not call a taxi?”

“Easier to walk.” You asserted, beginning to walk in the direction of your apartment and Jungkook could only follow you.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 You made it home, Jungkook awkwardly bidding you goodbye while you muttered a good night before slipping inside. Thankfully, you had classes to distract you but all you could think about how your dad decided to basically sell you off for his best interests. Someone like Jungkook probably had a monopoly on the gaming industry and your father wanted to venture into technology.

Regardless of how good looking he was, how successful he is, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was mainly your father’s and his mother’s influence that is driving him. How long can he put up this earnest act?

Give me a chance.

“Ugh.” You groaned, his words repeating in your head and you felt someone poking at your head.

“Quit it.”

“It’s only Monday.”

“That’s part of the problem, Seul.” You looked up to see her sitting next to you, she didn’t seem upset anymore.

“Then what is it? Mystery date was a dud?”

“Something like that.” More like mystery fiancé.

“What happened?” You came up with a lie, telling her that your father arranged your marriage overnight would result in questions you didn’t want to answer.

“I agreed to a second date and I’m not sure if I’m still up for it since we didn’t start on the right foot.”

“What do you like about him?”

“He’s loyal to a fault, he puts in the effort, ambitious…”

“Sounds like things you put on a resume.”

“It wasn’t the best first date.”

“But you said yes to a second one.”

“But he said some sweet things when he did. It sounded like something out of a drama.”

“Aw, he melted your heart a bit, didn’t he?”

“Shut up.” You snapped, embarrassed that you admitted that part of what he said actually affected you.

“I think you should give it a shot since you saw something in him. Plus, you could always dump him if he’s not what he seems.”

“I guess, you’re right this time.”

“What do you mean ‘this time’? Aren’t I always right?”

“You wish.” She nudged you, you were laughing in response.

After your talk with Yeseul, you felt better about the bombshell. But you figured you would have some time before you would see Jungkook. Not him standing outside of your apartment building with his hands in his pockets.

He looked formal, wearing a waistcoat with a dress shirt. You could see gloves covering his hands and you cursed yourself for immediately thinking of how hot he looked.

“Y/N.”

“At my pace, my ass.” You muttered as you tried to pretend that you couldn’t know him, but he started to jog towards you. The two of you ran in the opposite direction of your apartment until he caught you, your back pressed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Caught you. Part of me is starting to think you like the chase.”

“I like space, which you’re invading.”

“Right, no hugs. But can we talk face to face?” He let go and you obliged to his request, currently giving him a hard stare.

“I really came because I don’t have your number, can’t give our relationship an honest try without each other’s number.” You gulped, even the word ‘relationship’ made you feel weird. He was right, you thought to yourself, you had to give this an honest try, so you could properly reject him and break it cleanly.

After all, how could you fall for someone like him?

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Having daydreams about me?”

“Ha, you wish, Jeon.” You started to walk back in the direction of your house, not wanting to stay out for long.

“Not even my first name, I thought we were closer than that.”

“You have to work for it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” How do you say things like that so casually, ugh? You pulled out your phone, handing it over to him to enter his number before he turned it over.

“Kookie?”

“It’s cuter hearing you actually saying it out loud.”

“I’m literally never saying that again.”

“Aw, come on Y/N, I can make up a cute nickname for you too.”

“Please don’t.”

“You seem like a sugar plum.”

“What kind of nickname is that? Sugarplum? I don’t even know what that is.”

“Have you never tried them?”

“I think your terrible nickname counts as a deterrent.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be compared to a candy?”

“It’s not exactly something I want to hear, to be honest.”

“I promise to come up with something better.”

“A promise I wish you can’t keep.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“This is a weird hill you want to die on but by all means, go ahead.”

“At least it’s earned me a smile today.”

“You talk like the main lead in a romance drama. Just awfully cheesy.”

“I hope you’re not lactose intolerant.”

“Seriously, stop it.” You reach your apartment, the two of you talking while walking up flights of stairs until you were at your door.

“Time flies, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“I wish it would stop, kind of liked talking to you.”

“Mhm.”

“Ouch, you didn’t feel the same. I thought we had a good chat.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Can’t play all my cards, can I?” You unlocked your door, letting yourself in but leaving it open enough that you could still see him.

“If this is a game, hope you don’t mind losing. I play to win, Y/N.”

“We’ll see about that. Good night.”

“Night, Y/N.” You shut your door, walking into your bedroom and plopping on the bed.

I play to win, Y/N. Not on my watch, Jungkook.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“If you stare at your phone that hard, you might actually shoot laser beams at it.”

It’s been two weeks since you and Jungkook had met, the man semi occupied your thoughts. He kept his distance, probably leaving the ball in your court in terms of whether you wanted to talk to him or not.

And you hate to admit it but you did want to talk to him at least.

“Har har.”

“Is Mystery Date on your mind again? Did you have your second date?”

“I guess you could say so, it went so much smoother like I could say anything, he would know what to say back. It was nice.” God, you sounded like a high schooler in their first relationship. And you can’t even see you and Jungkook beyond acquaintances.

“So, he wasn’t a waste of time but what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what to text him.”

“Wait, you weren’t already texting?”

“I met him off Tinder and he wanted to delete the app so we exchanged numbers.” You lied coolly, Yeseul humming in response.

“What are you hoping this message sends to him? Not literal, like do you want him to be more enticed by you or like you’re playing a hot and cold thing with him.”

“Just that I’m open to texting.”

“Oh. You’re not ready for sexting anyways.”

“What?”

“Just send him a simple ‘hey’.”

“Isn’t that too simple?”

“But you’re just opening a conversation, you don’t need much.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y/N, do it before I do it myself.”

“Okay, okay.” You murmured, typing it out and hitting send. He must have seen it, the familiar three dots appearing on your screen before his message came.

I didn’t think you would actually text me, I was preparing to camp out your apartment door.

I would totally call apartment security if you did.

So mean, honey bun.

Honeybun? I think you should retire from this nickname thing, it was funny the first time and now it’s just sad.

No good, huh? I have gotten plenty more to try out.

I swear I’m going to block you if you do.

Fine, I won’t try them out here. But believe me when I say that I’m going to have the perfect nickname for you and you’re going to love me for it

Sure, Jeon.

You do realize my name is actually Jeon Jungkook, not Jeon?

I am aware

Man, you play hard to get on the hardest mode, but I’m not giving up. I’m going to capture your heart.

“Oh my gosh, he’s going to ‘capture your heart’. He found your weakness, sappy lines.”

“They are not my weakness.”

“Please, all I have to say is ‘Don’t let go-”

“It’s too soon, Yeseul. Okay, too soon.”

“Are you sniffling?”

“Shut it.”

Great, you got my friend in on your corny lines

Aw, you talked about me to your friends? Can’t keep us a secret, babe? ;)

I rather keep it a secret but I need advice.

Advice?

Yeah, how to deal with such a shameless man.

Hey, I have some shame. It take a lot of confidence to talk to a girl like you, I feel like you can see through me

So, you know to not waste my time.

Time with me is always worth it, trust me.

Mhm

Somehow that hurt more than when you do that in person.

Hey, Y/N, I’m really happy you texted me but I gotta go? Talk to me later or something.

Don’t play too hard

That’s literally my job, Y/N but seriously bye J

“He sounds cute.”

“He’s something else, really.”

“I know you like to keep people at an arm's length but it really looks like he wants to be centimetres apart if you catch my drift.”

“We’ve been out twice, I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Is he hot?”

“Objectively.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

“I’m going to tell you to bag him.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, it’s been two weeks since you met, he seems pretty decent and he’s objectively hot, whatever that means.”

“I still need to get to know him.”

“Just take him for a test drive.“

“Yeseul!”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

You were scrolling through your twitter feed, reading some thread exposing another influencer when you heard a knock on your door.

“Coming.” You said, walking over and opening it to Jungkook.

He lost the business attire, wearing a simple black shirt and jeans. Fine, so it wasn’t the suits that made him look so hot.

“Wow.”

“Is there a reason you showed up on this fine Saturday?”

“Because I want to take you out. Plus I got to see you in shorts.”

“My eyes are up here, Jeon.”

“Wait, let me admire them a bit longer.” You were about to swing the door shut when he stopped the door.

“I was just joking, Y/N. But would you like to go out with me?”

“You don’t mean like a date, do you?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

“Then we can hang out, Jungkook.”

“You said my name.”

“Did I? Must have been a slip of the tongue, Jeon.”

“Shoot, I should have enjoyed it while it lasted.”

“You can wait in the living room. Touch anything and I’ll have your head.”

“You’re joking, right?” You smiled in response.

“Oh.”

“So where are we going?”

“Somewhere fun, casual.”

“How descriptive.”

“It’s no fun if I tell you everything. You’ll know when we get there.”

“Of course I would because we would already be there.”

“Just get changed, Y/N.”

“Bossy.” You teased, going into your bedroom to change.

Should I dress up for him? But the most we are is friends and since when did friends have to impress each other? Gosh, why are you even thinking about this? Just toss something together!

You put on a crop top and some shorts, joining Jungkook in the living room after brushing your hair.

“Let’s go.” You clapped your hands together, getting Jungkook’s attention and walking towards the front door.

You thought you heard Jungkook mutter under his breath, making you quietly smirk before turning to look at him.

“Is something the matter?”

“Of course not. After you.” The two of you opted for the elevator, you listening to Jungkook hum melodically. He led you to his car, opening the door for you and you sat with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Are you really not going to tell me?”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s a building in this city.”

“I see you can be mean too.”

“Taste of your own medicine. A bit bitter, isn’t it?”

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“A bit.”

“Hmph.”

“Sounds more cute than angry.”

“You’re a strange man.”

“Only to you, Y/N. Mother says I’m the most perfect person in the world, you’re a close second though.” You rolled your eyes, you’re surprised he went so long without mentioning his mother and chose now to bring her up.

“Of course she does. You’re her baby boy.”

“Oh shit, forgot about your father.”

“Let’s keep him forgotten.”

“Alright.”

“I’m surprised you know how to drive.”

“What a weird comment. Why wouldn’t I know?”

“You seemed like the type to have drivers, mommy won’t want her baby to get into an accident.”

“I’m not that much of a momma’s boy. I have a motorcycle license, I’ll have you know.”

“You? On a motorcycle?”

“I was 18 and feeling rebellious. It explains the earrings too.”

“They suit you actually.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I have to see you on a bike.”

“Depends, will you take a ride with me?”

“You just want an excuse to get me to hug you, don’t you?”

“Damn, nothing gets past you. But I miss the night rides and it’s nicer with company.”

“I might take you up on that.”

“I guess I better dust off the old bike, then.”

“It’s not a date, remember that.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled into a parking lot, smoothly reversing into a spot before the two of you getting out.

“This way.” You followed him, the sign a dead giveaway and you smiled.

“I could have guessed that you would pick an arcade.”

“It’s fun and casual.”

“Hey, Ms. Han.”

“Oh, Jungkook honey, you came! Who is this lovely woman? Your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s just a friend, Ms. Han.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You bowed to her and she waved her hands.

“No need to be so formal, a friend of Jungkookie is a friend of mine. This rascal has been coming to this arcade for years, even skipping classes to beat the high scores on most of these machines.”

“Is that so? What a bad boy.”

“Hey, don’t gang up on me. I still did well, didn’t I, Ms. Han?”

“With the skin of your teeth. You’re lucky you were a talented kid, now a big name game developer.”

“I’m still the same Jungkook.”

“You are the reason I still have banana milk in my fridge.”

“My favourite. Thank you, Ms. Han.”

“Ah, you.” Jungkook cheekily smiles before laughing, soon enough the three of you were. You took a seat at a machine, Jungkook sitting next to you and playing.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Depends, what do I win?”

“Your most embarrassing baby photo.”

“Blackmail material, huh? Won’t put it past you.”

“Humour me with what you think you’ll win.”

“You let me take you out on a real date.”

“Aiming high, aren’t you?”

“Of course, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. You in?”

“Better be ready to hand that picture over tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it, babe.” There’s the damned nickname, hearing it in person has the same effect as it does typed out. You didn’t let it seem obvious, focusing on the machine and the two of you playing a single round.

“I win. I can’t wait to get my hands on the sweet blackmail material.”

“Sure, after our date.”

“That isn’t part of the deal.”

“Check the scores again, Y/N.” You looked at the two screens, Jungkook putting his arm around your shoulder with a smile on his face.

10660 to 1066…5. He beat you by 5 points.

“How.”

“I’ve been playing since high school, I think I’m losing my touch. I have the high score on this game, I think.”

“I want a rematch.”

“If that’s what you want.” You tried different combos, putting all your focus on your character and finishing with a better score than the first time.

“Beat you by 10, this time.”

“Are you cheating?”

“I think it’s a classic case of sore loseritis.”

“I am not a sore loser, just can’t wrap my head around you beating me.”

“Well, I am a game developer. If I were horrible at games, that would be ironic.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Wait here, I’ll get you some banana milk.” You frowned at him, watching him go into the back and Ms. Han hit you with a rag.

“He looks really happy with you.”

“I think he just likes winning games.”

“This is a different kind of happy, the smile on his face looks different than when he sees me coming into the arcade with a carton of banana milk or hearing about how the neighbourhood kids talked about his game.”

“It’s like he’s in love. Just like that girl he used to talk about in high school.”

“Jungkook had a crush?”

“But he has you now. Keep your eye on him for me, will you Y/N?”

“I-”

“Ms. Han, you’re running low on banana milk.”

“Ya, you punk, you should supply your own.”

“I promise I’ll buy some next time. Y/N, here.” He handed you a bottle, the straw already inserted and you took a sip. It was really sweet, you never thought he would like something like this.

“Can we book a karaoke room?”

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

“Jungkook.”

“I want to hang out with you a bit longer.” That innocent comment led to the two of you singing the opening to Naruto three times and you two belting Unravel on the top of your lungs.

You took a seat, tired and Jungkook sang on his own. He had such a pretty voice, each note sounding perfect in your ears. Is there anything he can’t do?

“One more song?”

“You’re totally going to lose your voice.”

“I’m dedicating this song to you, Y/N.”

“Oh my god.” You covered your face, laughing as he dramatically pointed at you and he entered the code.

The gentle piano played through the speakers and he kept his eyes on the screen as he sang. It was a simple love ballad, it felt like he was truly saying these words to you.

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up, that was beautiful you ass.”

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered.”

“It’s a compliment, you jerk.”

“Okay… let’s take you home.”

You followed him out to his car, going back to your apartment.

“Are we really going on a date?”

“Why? Can’t wait?”

“I rather not.”

“But we had so much fun today.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”

“I know. But it was a test run for our real date.”

“You planned this out, didn’t you?”

“No comment.”

“I can admire the sneakiness.”

“I planned the whole thing, except for the little chat between you and Ms. Han.”

“Did you eavesdrop?”

“No, I thought she would say something embarrassing that I rather not relive.”

“Really, not even the girl you had a crush on?”

“She didn’t tell you her name, did she?”

“No, but now I’m curious. A girl that got your attention, wonder what she was like? Could she be the reason you got all rebellious?”

“Hey, save these questions for our date.”

“You’re serious about that?”

“Of course. Let me walk you up.” He locked his doors behind the two of you, taking you up to your floor while talking with you more.

“Just what I wanted to see.” You looked at your father standing out of your apartment, Jungkook stopping behind you. He smirked at the two of you, your blood boiling as he adjusted his cuff links.

“Why are you here?”

“Is there something unusual about a father caring about his only daughter?”

“You? Care about me? When did that start? When I became an asset to you to use?”

“Watch your words, girl. Do you realize who you’re speaking to?”

“A deadbeat father who chose money over me.”

“You-” You shut your eyes, knowing what should come next but it didn’t. Opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook holding your father’s arm and he let go.

“Remember this, Y/N, your life was never yours. Never.” He spat, walking off and Jungkook turned to you.

“He’s done that before, hasn’t he?”

“I push his buttons a lot, don’t I?”

“You don’t have to tell me but I won’t let him get away with it anymore. Okay?” You let him hug this time, holding onto a piece of his shirt for a moment. He didn’t make you say it, thankfully but he knew what your father truly was at least.  

His hand patted your hair, the soft gesture melting your heart a bit. Your mother used to do the same thing when you were scared at night before you’d fall asleep she would say these words:

“I’ll protect you.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 Yeseul came over, tossing dresses in your direction and currently spazzing while you dodged.

“Oh my god, how come you have like nothing to wear?”

“We’re standing in like a hill of my clothes right now.”

“And yet you still have nothing to wear.”

“Maybe I should get a raincheck.”

“Oh hell no, I can finally meet this mystery man tonight and you can’t take that away from me.”

“Yeseul, calm down.”

“I am calm.” So not calm. You sighed, just fishing through the clothes that Yeseul chucked and finding a simple little black dress.

“That is it. Simple, chic and elegant. My tossing abilities have never failed me.” You rolled your eyes, knowing better than to argue with Yeseul about her not noticing it when she initially tossed it at you but there was no point being a dead horse.

After putting on the dress and Yeseul becoming an impromptu hair and makeup artist, you waited for Jungkook.

You heard him knock and Yeseul sprinted to the door before you could make three steps.

“Oh my god, he’s hotter than I imagined.”

“You must be Yeseul.”

“So you have talked about me.”

“Yeah, just the usual, you being annoying and slightly overbearing. Everyday things.”

“Sometimes I wonder how Jungkook managed to get through 2 months of you without even thinking he needs a break.”

“I think about it every day, try me.”

“Oh yeah, you can start right now.”

“Oh no, missy, and pass up on this date when you’ve dressed up so beautifully? I’d would have to be locked up in an asylum.”

“I told you you looked hot.” Yeseul boasted.

“Hush.”

“Now, I’m stealing Y/N for the night. Not sure if I’ll get her back by morning.”

“By all means, take her.”

“Gee, Yeseul, some friend you are.”

“Have fun, lovebirds.”  She rushed you both out, giving you a thumbs up and wink. You cocked an eyebrow, Jungkook leading you away and you were met with a midnight blue motorcycle.

“You weren’t joking.”

“I’d never joke about my Harley. Come on.” You took the helmet from him, placing it on your head and sitting behind him.

“Trust me and hold on.” You listen to the bike roaring to life before purring as he began to ride. He weaved through traffic carefully, probably because of you and parked at a restaurant.

“Can I..um…hold your hand?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, Jungkook quietly lacing his fingers between yours and leading you into the restaurant.

“Reservation for Mr. Jeon.”

“Right this way, sir.” The host led you to your table, an intimate booth with virtually no one in sight.

“A waiter will be with your shortly to take your orders.” He said, walking away and leaving you with Jungkook.

“Are you nervous?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to look this beautiful, it’s kind of distracting.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re pretty handsome, I guess.”

“Compliments with you are like pulling teeth.”

“At least you know how much I mean it when I say one due to their rarity.”

“Point taken. But I’m going to keep telling you how beautiful you are until it sticks.”

“You might give me a big head.”

“Even so, you would be beautiful.”

“Charmer.”

“I aim to please, babe. Since you like it when I call you that.”

“When did I-”

“Didn’t think I would notice how you gulp anytime I said it and you look to your left?”

“Okay, that’s weird for you to notice.”

“It’s because I’m always looking at you. It’s hard to keep my eyes off you.”

“Sap.”

“But you drink it up like syrup.”

“Doesn’t make it any less sappy.”

“Fair enough.” The waiter came by, the two of you placing your orders and once again were left to each other.

“What was your childhood like?”

“Always with the hard questions, Y/N. Dad was busy expanding his empire and legacy, Mom took care of me and my older brother. My older brother started working for our dad, spending more time with the company then getting married and putting any other free time into his wife.”

“It was me and mom for a while, but my dad would come back to remind me that I was his son and he’s the one calling the shots.”

“I remember the day I ran off after turning 18, spending countless nights mindlessly riding through cities, spending nights in bars and crashing at random people’s houses to get by. My mother came for me with two men to drag me back home, my father was gone. Fucked off to god knows where.”

“Mom was lonely and so was I, so we lived together. I put my time into game development, being one of the lucky ones to hit big with my first project and here am I.”

“I guess a power-hungry father is a trope we share.”

“You’re right.”

“But you’re conveniently forgetting this mystery crush from high school.”

“She was so carefree, always doing what she wanted but never in the way of others. Like a bird. She flew away, out of my life for years.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“I.. don’t, could only guess she’s happy now.”

“I’m surprised your crush wasn’t a video game character.”

“Lara Croft is still my number one.”

“I see, that’s why you like shorts so much.”

“It was an awakening.” You tittered, he’s such a goofball.

“Your turn.”

“It was just me, my father and mom. My mom died in my first year of middle school, dad starts nosediving into work and I had to raise myself. Dad came home one day and told me that we shouldn’t be associated with each other anymore. Sent me away after high school and occasionally pops in to make me feel like I’m nothing without him.”

“You’re more than what he could ever be. He’s just a grumpy piece of shit.”

“It’s nice to hear someone else finally say it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of your palm.

“Yeah.” He caught your eyes, the two of you having a quiet conversation through eye contact. You didn’t know what to say next until Jungkook started to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“God.” You started to laugh, breaking eye contact.

“I win.”

“When was this a competition?”

“Since I said it was.”

“Is everything a game to you?”

“Not when it comes to like… serious stuff.”

“How profound, Jungkook.”

“I should be a philosopher.” You shook your head, him chuckling to himself. The waiter came around with your food, appreciating the arrangement before taking a bite.

It was silent yet comfortable. The quite clatter for utensils against dishes left you to think about this moment in time.

You would have never thought that you would be able to sit across Jungkook, being about to joke around with each other and just feel happy in each other’s company.

Didn’t think that you’d find yourself talking every day, hanging out whenever you were free, sometimes even missing him- Wait, when did things become so different?

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s just you got a little something on your cheek.” You took a napkin, gently wiping his cheek before he could. He watched you, those brown eyes drinking the sight of you and you felt like you were drowning.

His hand came to cover yourself when you were about to pull away. Your face grew hot, his large hand clasped over yours against his cheek while he gazed into your eyes. You were slowly becoming his leading lady and you hadn’t even realized it until now.

“I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you, Y/N. Not because of our parents, but because I got to see parts of you that I didn’t know existed. You’re witty, competitive, smart, beautiful, everything I could ever want and need.”

“Jungkook.”

“Tell me I’m not crazy for feeling like this, that I’m not the only one.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“But how do you feel about me?”

“Promise me you won’t grow a big head.”

“I won’t grow a big head all of a sudden.”

“I think you’re different from who I thought you were.”

“Good different?”

“Good different. Maybe more than that.”

“I’ll take it.”

 ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 You took off your helmet, fixing your hair and Jungkook getting off after shutting his bike off.

“You totally rode slower this time.”

“It’s the only time you’ll hold me.”

“That’s because…you’re the affectionate one.”

“And I’ve been deprived, you know.”

“You have my permission now.” He took a step closer to you, his hand gently smoothing over a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. His hand swiftly moved to hold your cheek before he looked into your eyes.

“I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Please do.” You breathed mindlessly before he leaned in.

He was gentle, your kiss barely touching before you pulled on his tie to reel him closer. Your mind was racing faster than your heart, the softness of his lips blocking out any other thought beside Jungkook.

He tasted like the champagne you two shared, the sweet taste more intoxicating than the actual alcohol. You melted, him wrapping an arm around your waist and temporarily breaking your kiss.

You dived back in, not wanting to let go the feeling his lips gave you. It hadn’t occurred to you that you were waiting for this for so long, holding back for what?

You pulled away, needing to breath and he held you close. His heart was pounding as hard as you was while you quietly listened against his chest.

“Give me your hand.”

“Now, close your eyes.”

“You’re getting bossy, you know.”

“Sometimes I like to wear pants, you know.”

“Don’t get used to it. I like control.”

“Then I’m all yours. Open them.” You looked your hand, seeing a ring on your ring finger.

It was a silver band with red heart crystals embedded around it.

“It’s just a promise ring. A promise that I’ll be by your side… as your boyfriend.”

“Jungkook.”

“Will you be my girl?”

“Of course, I will, Kookie.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Eight

A/N: *posts this chapter and runs away before anyone realizes its a week late* oh... well that didn’t work. Anyway... sorry about last week y’all. I don’t know why an atheist married to a jewish man picked easter weekend to fall off the schedule but that’s life i suppose. we’re back! we are...back. 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.* 

Summary: A trip to Corellia to offload their stolen speeders takes Navina and Firo through some of the shiftier parts of Coronet City before ending their trip with a visit to Firo’s family. Navina learns some shocking new information about her quest... and also misses something very important. 

Warnings: Ummmmmm i think this one’s fine actually.

Word Count: 4.3k

Corellia. 

Navina stuck close to Firo’s side as he expertly navigated the crowded streets of Coronet City. I hate it here. What remained of her armor after her encounter with the Mandalorian shifted in her bag as she walked, the pieces clanging together with each step. She noticed at least three pairs of eyes dart in her direction, the distinct metallic sound of beskar easily discernible to those who knew it’s exact value on the black market. Try it. Her grip tightened on the strap over her shoulder, her other hand casually hovering near the blaster on her thigh, conveniently concealed by her gray shawl. 

Lucky for them, the shifty looking Twi’lek and the two heavily tattooed Czerialan women he was with didn’t start any trouble, presumably keeping their eyes peeled for softer targets. And they’ll find them. With a population in the billions, Corellia had gained quite the reputation for being overrun with pickpockets, thieves, smugglers and desperate people willing to do desperate things. Which is why we’re here but…  She frowned, looking over at her friend. Next to her, Firo walked confidently, head held high and shoulders back, his stride deliberate and meaningful. I cannot believe he grew up here.  

Technically, Firo and his brother Leph had grown up in a smaller town just outside the city limits, their parents wanting them to have room to run and find the kind of trouble that wasn’t looking for them first. Between the Black Sun and the White Worms, the city was becoming less and less of a desirable place to raise children, both organizations known for recruiting their scrumrats young. Their parents both worked in the city, though, so staying close enough for a reasonable commute was necessary. Their mother, a brilliant woman, worked as a translator at the welcome center in Diadem Square, and their father had been a test pilot for one of the only Corellian shipyards that had been able to resist being converted into a TIE Fighter factory during the Empire’s reign. It was because of him that Firo had learned to fly. The man would occasionally take Firo and Leph up for a spin once he’d deemed the ships safe and in good working order. Leph had always been more interested in the engineering that powered them, eventually getting a job at the same facility, but Firo had fallen in love with flight from the first time he took off. 

Despite the fact that they had just turned the corner and crossed into Black Sun territory, Navina smiled to herself. She liked knowing things like that about Firo. Her own past wasn’t entirely without bright spots, but she found Firo’s anecdotes to be much warmer than most of her own. Aside from the memories she had of the few years she and her family were together on Yavin, her perception of what it was like to grow up in a domestic household had been built by her friend and his stories of having two parents and a bunk bed to share with his brother and a home that had a roof with four walls. She didn’t envy him, just enjoyed imagining what it might have been like to live that way. 

The buildings in that sector of the city rose higher than those just a few blocks over, their shadows darkening the street level enough that artificial lighting was necessary even during the day, and the warm feeling she got from wrapping herself in Firo’s stories left, taking her smile with it. There were fewer people bustling about, but that only made Navina grow more alert, more aware of the ones that were. Like him. In the corner of her vision she noticed a tall Duros man leaning in a darkened doorway, his deep red eyes following her footsteps, a casual smirk on his gaunt purple cheeks. She narrowed her eyes, upper lip curling from the way being watched made her feel.    

“Tell me again why we’re going this way instead of walking through the industrial sector?” Her grip tightened even further around the strap on her bag, until she could feel her fingernails digging into her palm. 

Firo flinched, clenching his teeth before sucking a breath through them as he slung his arm around her shoulder. Oh, here we go. “Well, it’s kind of a long story, Nav.” It always is. “Suffice it to say that one thing led to another and I may or may not have,” -so, you did  “made a bet that I had no business making, and I-” 

Navina groaned. “Firo, you have no business making any bets, ever. You’re terrible at Sabacc, and-”

“Hey!” He dropped his arm and shot her a defensive glare. “I’m not terrible at Sabacc… I just...need practice.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, the tips of his fingers disappearing into his unruly locks. “A lot of practice, and I’m not… ready for a rematch just yet.” 

Navina was still aware of the Duros lurking in the shadows, his long fingers lifting a lit cigarra to his lipless mouth. The end of it glowed to match the color of his eyes as he inhaled. He hadn’t moved to follow them though, simply shifting his weight as he allowed the smoke to swirl around his face. She felt his gaze on her back as they continued down the street, but she shook it off and turned back to Firo. “How much practice is a lot of practice?” 

Pausing at the corner as a line of land speeders barrelled through the intersection, he kicked the curb and inspected a loose thread at one of the seams in his gloves. “Um… ten or… eleven, something like that.” 

She nudged his boot with her own, eyes going wide. “Ten or eleven… thousand? Firo...are you telling me that you owe some card shark in this kriffing city eleven thousand credits?” The last three words came out in a hiss. 

The traffic signal flashed and they stepped off of the curb to cross. “Don’t worry, Nav, I’ve got it all figured out.” He waved a hand in front of him as they reached the opposite side of the street.

“Yeah,” Navina grumbled, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Your plans are never any better than mine. She sighed. “How much more do you need to get them off your case?” 

Firo cocked his head to the side, doing some quick arithmetic. “After what we just made selling those speeders…” He trailed off. 

They had arranged a meeting with a buyer in a secluded hangar in Coronet spaceport before taking off from Nevarro. The individual was reluctant to give them their name, which wasn’t abnormal when it came to the type of transactions that they typically took part in. Usually they dealt with other smugglers and traders, people who wanted their name used as little as possible to avoid getting thrown in prison or hunted down and frozen in a cold slab of carbonite. 

This buyer though, had another reason to maintain their anonymity. Rumors and whispers of Imperial remnants gathering strength and support had prompted the reemergence of rebel cells across the galaxy, and those militias needed munitions and vehicles and other supplies that Firo and Navina were happy to procure for them as it served a dual purpose: filling their pockets, and taking tools away from the enemy to put them in the hands of the good guys. Only once had one of their rebel customers complained, trying to guilt them into dropping their price for the good of the cause. The good of the cause won’t put fuel in my ship, Navina had answered with a shrug, letting the would-be haggler know that they were free to try their luck elsewhere and that there was no shortage of buyers that would pay double what they were asking. It was a bluff, of course, but the customer had not only begrudgingly agreed, but had become one of their most frequent buyers. It was who they had sold the stolen bikes to for a total of eight thousand credits, four thousand for each of them. 

Firo finally finished his calculations as they turned another corner, the shadows lightening and the buildings becoming shorter again as they reached the perimeter of Black Sun territory. They were almost at the nearest mag-lev station, and Navina was eager to get on the train and out of the city. “Probably another three?” He shrugged. 

Another three. And then what? He goes back into debt to pay for food and fuel? No. “Firo,” she let out a long huff and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have to pay these guys off before you leave Corellia.” 

Shooting him a sharp glance, she knew that he understood the subtext to what she was saying: take care of it before they come after you or your family. It had happened once before, not over gambling debt but over Leph clashing with one of the White Worm underlings when they tried to recruit the man’s daughter, Firo’s niece, for their organization. Leph had obviously refused, and when he couldn’t pay the gangster off, they had come after his family. Luckily, Navina and Firo had been making a trip back to Corellia at that time to see his mother, so they were there when the assassin had been sent. There was still a visible patch covering the round hole through the kitchen wall from where Navina had shot her blaster straight through it to eliminate the threat. But I can’t be there all the time and neither can you, Firo. 

“Yeah,” he let out the word in a rush of air. “I know.” He frowned and scratched his nose.  

As the mag-lev station came into view, Navina blew out another breath. “Okay. Sell the ship.” 

The train rumbled along the tracks and pulled up to the platform, the two of them picking up their pace so they would have time to hop on before it left again. “What?” Navina didn’t need to look up at him to know that his face was scrunched into a scoff. “Nav, that’s supposed to be you-”

“My ship, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Sell it. Pay off the rest of the debt.” They climbed the few steps up to the platform, weaving through the crowd of passengers that had just gotten off of the train. A young boy, face smudged with dirt and grease, bumped Navina’s hip and crashed noisily into her bag. He apologized profusely and Navina waved him off, no harm done. 

“But you need that ship to get back to Nevarro, that’s why we-” 

Navina closed her eyes as she reached for the handle to step up onto the train. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mumbled, words running together, “but I’ll…” she took a deep breath as though preparing herself for something truly unpleasant. “Dank farrik, I’ll take The Flare.” 

Firo gave her back an incredulous look as he grabbed the handle and climbed up behind her. “Nav, you flew The Flare here and you complained the entire time. You hate that ship.” 

“Yes, well that’s because it’s a rusted bucket of bolts and you know it, but if you sell the new ship- my ship- you can settle up and no one gets hurt… aside from my pride…” 

Firo’s mouth dropped open as the two of them dropped into one of the train’s window seats. “Navina-” 

She turned to cut him off as soon as her name was out of his mouth. “Okay, one, lose the full name nonsense. It’s weird coming from you. And two, don’t try to talk me out of it. Your family is my family, Firo, so your stupid debts are my stupid debts.” I have to teach him how to bluff better if he’s going to keep playing cards. Now, do I like flying The Flare? Not even a little bit. But that’s what I’m going to do...assuming it doesn’t spontaneously combust when I jump into hyperspace.” 

He knew better than to argue with her at this point. They’d both learned by now when they’d lost. Instead, he bumped her with his shoulder.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Harsa.” 

She bumped him back. “Yeah, that makes two of us, Ottabok.” The train let out a long, loud blast of it’s whistle to let passengers know that they only had a few more seconds to board. 

“Hey maybe your new Mando friend can help you out with some repairs for The Flare when you head back to Nevarro next week,” Firo suggested. 

Navina laughed. “Yeah, doubtful.” She had told Firo everything about her encounter with the man encased in beskar, from fighting the reptavians with him to the way they traded off answering questions to the Mandalorian’s reaction to her pendant and its mysterious purple glow. “He’s… intense. Doesn’t strike me as the type to just offer to help with repairs, and I’m not quite sure I’m ready to ask him for another favor.” But I hope he made some headway on the first one. She chewed her bottom lip and sent out another silent wish that the man would return to her with information on her father. Even if it’s just… She swallowed. At this point, even the knowledge that he was no longer alive would be something more concrete than the floating hope of finding him. She shook those thoughts from her head and shifted her bag into her lap to cross her arms over the top of it. “Anyway, that’s next week’s news.” Hopefully.  “Is Leph gonna be at your Mom’s tonight? I want him to take a look at this kriffing pauldron to see if he can tell me how to fix it where Mando decided to slice it from my shoulder.” 

Firo gave her a quizzical look and scratched his head. “He...what? I thought you said he didn’t take you prisoner?”  

Navina laughed again and shrugged, recalling the weight of the blade resting on her shoulder and the sound of his beskad carving through the thin durasteel plate. “I told you, he’s intense.” 

Firo sat quietly for a few seconds just staring at the seat in front of him before he spoke again. Spit it out, Firo. “Do you really think he’ll be able to help you find your family, Nav? Or…” He frowned. 

“Or what?” She turned in her seat and furrowed her brow. 

“Or are you… do you want to meet with him to find out about your father and…” he shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “Or is this still about the Darksaber?” 

There it is. Navina dropped her gaze to her lap and toyed with the end of her braid where it lay on her shoulder, the blue strands shining in the harsh overhead lighting of the train car. “Why can’t it be both?” She couldn’t lie to Firo, and she didn’t want to. He has to understand.  “Until that thing is destroyed, Mandalorian families will be. Families like mine, and…”

She didn’t finish nor did she need to. “Okay.” Firo nodded and smoothed his hair back before fixing the strap of his bandolier which had fallen into the crook of his arm, and didn’t say another word about the Darksaber or the Mandalorian or Navina’s plan to meet with him. 

Navina nodded, too, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Okay.” She didn’t know much about other people and their relationships, but she was fairly certain that her friendship with Firo was one of a kind. They weren’t afraid to speak their minds to one another. Certainly not.  But they respected each other’s decisions and always did whatever they could to help make sure that those decisions, whatever they may be, didn’t come back to hurt them. She knew that friends like Firo didn’t just drop out of the sky. 

The train began to pull out of the station and Navina switched the topic of conversation to the types of tools she was hoping that Leph would have on him to fix her armor with. Neither she nor Firo saw the dirty faced scrum rat that had collided with her on the platform speaking to the Duros that had been lurking in the shadows, the purple skinned bounty hunter slipping a few credits into the kid’s hand before shoving him away. 

-- -- -- -- -- 

Staying with the Ottaboks was always something to look forward to for Navina. As much as she disliked Corellia and its cities in particular, she loved Firo’s family and they adored her, so she never truly minded when their travels brought them to the crowded, corrupt planet. She knew that there was at least one place there that was worth visiting. Millea, Leph’s six year old daughter, launched herself at Navina from the top of the stoop the second the girl saw her and Firo heading up the drive, her father right behind to clap a large hand on his brother’s arm before leaning in to kiss Navina’s cheek and untangle his child from her limbs. Ma waited near the door like she always did, waving a dish towel before slinging it over her shoulder to reach for Firo’s face and tell him how skinny he was getting. Navina took several mental snapshots and stuck them in the box in her memory with Firo’s stories, and followed the family inside. 

After dinner, Ma finally content that everyone had eaten enough, Navina sat on the floor with Millea while Leph and Firo sat at the table with a couple bottles of ale, catching each other up on the past few months. Navina bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to her friend skate over all of the details that his family wouldn’t approve of, shooting Firo a smirk as he winked at her and took a swig of his drink. 

“Navi, do the song you taught me last time!” Millea suddenly plopped into her lap, her small hands bracing on Navina’s shoulders. 

She smiled as Ma continued to clean up the remains of dinner, packing leftovers in tins that would travel well for Navina’s journey back to Nevarro. “Which one, Mills? Three little loth-caths?”  

“Uh uh,” she answered, swinging her head from side to side so that the braid she’d begged Navina to put in her hair smacked her cheeks. “The other one.” 

“The other one?” Navina asked, still smiling at the girl but mind flashing back to the foundling that she sang the children’s rhyme to all those years ago. “You sure, Mills?” 

“Yeah, Gramma helped me practice it since you were here last time so I know it- all the words!” She beamed with pride, cheeks going round as she showed off a grin, a gap small gap between her two front teeth just like the one her uncle had.

Navina caught Ma’s eye again, and the woman wiped her hands on her pants with an apologetic look. Firo’s mother was fluent in many languages from a life-long career as a galactic translator, and while Mando’a wasn’t one of them, the woman knew enough about the pronunciation to help her granddaughter work on whatever she remembered from Navina’s last visit.  “Millea, don’t pester Nav now.” 

“No, no,” Navina shook her head. She knew that she hadn’t hid the way that her emotion flashed in her eyes from Firo’s mother. She knows me almost as well as he does.  “It’s fine, Ma.” She turned back to Millea and tapped her nose. “I’m impressed you remembered! It’s not an easy one. Alright, little one.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she used the same phrase she would have used with their little one, his enormous eyes watching her as she tried to teach him the Rhyme of the Resol’nare. He never followed along with the words himself, but he would clap his small hands and sway from side to side in a way that made Navina, even at 11 years old, think that he must’ve known what she was singing. “Let’s hear it.” Millea smiled again before launching into the rhyme, first in basic and then in Mando’a. 

Education and armor,

Self-defense, our tribe,

Our language and our leader—

All help us survive.

Ba'jur bal beskar'gam,

Ara'nov, aliit,

Mando'a bal Mand'alor—

An vencuyan mhi.

She stumbled more than a few times on the second iteration, but Navina helped her through it, finishing the last line with her. LIke it did since she last saw her father and the little one, the last line made her chest ache. Our leader… the Mand’alor. Wielder of the Darksaber. The sword I’m trying to- 

She pulled herself out of those thoughts though as Millea’s small arms wound around her neck in a giddy hug with Firo, Leph and Ma giving the girl a round of applause. Giving her a squeeze in return, she whispered “Good job, Mill’ika,” before Leph stood and announced that it was time for them to get back home. He offered Navina a few tools that she’s asked for from the kit in his speeder, reminding her of what he told her she’d need to do to repair her armor. And hopefully I’ll be able to use something here to open my pendant and see about that stone. Thanking him, she gave the man a hug and told them both that she hoped she’d see them soon. 

Firo walked them out, and the moment that the door shut behind them, Ma spoke. “I need to tell you something, Nav.” 

Navina took in the serious expression on the woman’s face and stood, immediately joining her at the table. “Sure,” she pulled out a chair and sunk into it, eyes still on the woman across from her. “Is everything alright?” 

“Oh,” she waved one hand, curling her wrist fluidly. “Oh, yes. No, nothing’s wrong, but I… I overheard something at work the other day that I think you should know.” 

What? She tilted her head. “What is it, Ma?” What could it… She didn’t look upset or worried or scared, simply… sincere.  

She took a short breath and let it out through her nose. “Well, I know about your… mission. For your family, and for, well… Firo’s told me things and so have you so, I know that you’re…” 

“Ma?” Navina reached across the table and placed her hand over the woman’s. “It’s okay, just tell me.” 

She nodded. “Alright, well, you know I’m only passable with Mando’a. Huttese, Rodian, even Dathomiri and I’m-” she blew air through her lips. Yeah, I know. “But a few weeks back? Maybe… five or six now, I… well I heard two women speaking Mando’a in Diadem Square.” What? Ma shook her head. “And aside from you, Nav, I have never known Mando’a to be spoken on Corellia. Not in public, anyway.” 

Navina hadn’t realized it, but she had leaned forward in her seat. “W-well, what… did they say?” 

Ma shook her head. “I really… I only caught a few words that I know, so I’m not entirely sure, but I heard ‘aliit’ and then ‘Mudhorn’, a few words I couldn’t decipher, and then...then one that I knew and another in Basic.” 

Navina’s eyes widened at the mention of the Mudhorn, the signet on the Mandalorian’s armor seeming to glow in her memory. “What words, Ma?” 

The woman sighed. “I heard the word ‘Mand’alor’,” Navina stiffened, “and then I heard one of them say ‘Darksaber’.” 

“What? Are...are you sure that’s what you heard?” Her heart pounded as the woman nodded. “Why are you telling me now?” Her eyes flicked to the door and she knew that Ma would understand her unasked question- why was she telling her while Firo was out of the room? 

“I know Firo worries about you, Navi. Dank farrik so do I. I never had a daughter and I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to have you in my life but I am so, so glad that I do. You’re a good, fierce friend, Navina Harsa, and that is a rare thing in this life.” She felt her chest tighten, sending the same sentiment silently back. I’m the lucky one, Ma. The woman narrowed her eyes. “But I know that you need to do things for yourself. So I wanted you to know this.” 

The door opened and Firo walked in, closing it behind him to make the world spin inside of Navina’s head. “Well I had to promise Mills that I’d pick her up from school tomorrow before she would agree to leave but-” 

The rest of his sentence was drowned out in her mind as she thought about what she’d just learned. The Mandalorian. Clan Mudhorn, the Darksaber… the Mand’alor. She’d be leaving for Nevarro in two days, but suddenly with all the new questions that just cropped up, that felt like two lifetimes. 

“Um,” she cleared her throat and pushed her chair back. “Um, I think I’m going to head upstairs and… and get cleaned up if that’s…” she trailed off questioningly and Ma assured her that it was fine, shushing Firo’s attempts to try to get Navina to have another ale with him first. 

Thanking Ma and smacking Firo on the arm, she grabbed her bag from the bench by the front door, dropping the tools that Leph had lent her into it, and shouldered it to head for the staircase. She hadn’t seen the small device that the scrum rat working with that Duros in Coronet City had slipped in there when he bumped her.

 It didn’t beep or blink, and it was small enough to become hidden in the fabric of the bag’s inner lining. And it was sending her location to its receiver, wherever- or more accurately, whoever that may be.     

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Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek​ @fific7​

[route22ny]

*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your kids to Disneyland makes you: proud. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and J. Crew and Gwyneth Paltrow to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte with two pumps of syrup, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not ruinous. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin.

And so the onslaught is coming. Get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming.

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: Take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

We can do that on a personal scale in our homes, in how we choose to spend our family time on nights and weekends, what we watch, what we listen to, what we eat, and what we choose to spend our dollars on and where. We can do it locally in our communities, in what organizations we support, what truths we tell, and what events we attend. And we can do it nationally in our government, in which leaders we vote in and to whom we give power. If we want cleaner air, we can make it happen. If we want to protect our doctors and nurses from the next virus — and protect all Americans — we can make it happen. If we want our neighbors and friends to earn a dignified income, we can make that happen. If we want millions of kids to be able to eat if suddenly their school is closed, we can make that happen. And, yes, if we just want to live a simpler life, we can make that happen, too. But only if we resist the massive gaslighting that is about to come. It’s on its way. Look out.

https://forge.medium.com/prepare-for-the-ultimate-gaslighting-6a8ce3f0a0e0

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Top Hat Job

leverage 2.06

hardison bored with a tennis ball on his forehead rb if u agree

- - - - -

Hardison: Her name is Katie. Likes wild horses. Dislikes vanilla toothpaste.

Eliot: Please stop talking. (to Katie) Hey.

~ a few moments later ~

Eliot (to comm): Oh, I'm so in.

Hardison: Hey, uh, Eliot, what is that blocking your button cam? Oh, yeah, it's your ego

hardison lowkey always thinks it’s obnoxious when eliot flirts like that with people. (you love him, sweetie, you just don’t really know it yet)

- - - - -

Eliot: Hardison, we got a problem.

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: What kind of problem?

[Security Station]

Eliot: They're MRI'ing my pizza, and their stance says "ex-CIA."

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: You can tell somebody work for the CIA just from how they stand?

[Security Station]

Eliot: It's a very distinctive stance

- - - - -

Eliot: Hey, big boy. What are you, 240, 250?

(the guard swings at him and Eliot punches the guy in the crotch. The guy goes down)

ICONIC

- - - - -

Man: You know when I said you had pretty hair? I was lying.

Parker: Yeah, well, so was I when I said you didn't. Wait. Damn it!

(Parker kicks the man back and backflips off the railing. The man looks over the edge, but doesn’t see her. Parker is hanging onto steel girders under the side walk)

Man: What

SHUT UP MAN SHES GORGEOUS + lmfao parker you tried

ALSO GUYS parker flipping off the railing of the pier and “disappearing”? she’s a badass and I love her

- - - - -

Nate: So, pizza-Delivery guy was your big plan?

Hardison: You know what, man? It was recon. Okay? Information gathering has historically been a very safe and peaceful business. A-and it was a food company! It wasn't like they was making weapons.

Nate: Listen, I-I've worked insurance for companies like this. Anyone gets their hands on the company's food patents, it could cost them billions. And, by the way, they guard that stuff better than defense contractors

- - - - -

Parker (touches Eliot’s elbow): Does that hurt?

Eliot: Yeah

...

Eliot: No, I lived. All right? You sat behind (Parker pokes his elbow) a computer and acted like Kool Moe Dee.

...

Parker: Does that hurt?

Eliot: Yeah.

Parker: How about now? (pokes his elbow)

...

Eliot: Stop.

(Parker gets up to move away, then leans back to poke his elbow again)

Nate: Eliot. Guys. Eliot. What are you doing?

Eliot: She was poking me.

(Nate moves to look at Eliot’s elbow, trying to poke it)

Nate: Don't, man, hey!

and the parker poking eliot’s wounds saga continues

we love a chaotic ot3 scene

- - - - -

Hardison: Lillian Foods is the third-largest food company in the world. Last year, made $12 billion. This is the vice president of the frozen-Foods division, Erik Casten. Erik with a "k," Casten with a "c."

Nate: How is that relevant?

Parker: Oh. Eric with a "c" - nice and friendly, Erik with a "k" - Evil.

Sophie: I didn't know that.

Parker: Everybody knows that

ALSO

LETS TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE PARKER AND HARDISON SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER ON THE COUCH AND ELIOT SITTING RIGHT BEHIND AND BETWEEN BOTH OF THEM

WE LOVE TO SEE THE OT3 FRAMED TOGETHER

- - - - -

Hardison: According to Dr. Jameson, Erik with a "k" is trying to cover up salmonella found in the frozen dinners so his division doesn't have to pay out for that recall.

Eliot: That's why I grow my own food.

Sophie: How do you find the time?

Eliot: You make time. I only sleep 90 minutes a day.

- - - - -

Nate: All right, so what we have to do is we have to get a hold of Casten's report and make it public. It's on the servers. How do we get into the building?

Hardison: I'm so far ahead of you, man, it's scary.

[Flashback]

(a package is being delivered to the receptionist)

Hardison: Look, I can't hack their system from the outside, so I sent a Trojan phone. It's hacker 101.

(the package is delivered through inner office mail to a mail slot)

Hardison: What I did was messenger a Smartphone with an extended battery to an employee that's on vacation. Package sits in the mail room, it scans for wireless and Bluetooth access points.

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: Unfortunately, even their internal servers are locked down like the CIA, so all I was able to get was employee e-Mails

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, anything useful there?

Hardison: Oh, yeah. You know what? Marie from Payroll has a crush on Steve from Accounts Receivable. (hits remote to show pics on screen) Look, that's Steve right there on his vacation in Florida from a month ago.

Parker: She likes him? Really?

Hardison: Oh, yeah. That man is a sexy man-beast right there.

I know he’s joking but I will take bi hardison to my grave

- - - - -

Parker: Ugh. I'm so glad I don't live in the real world.

eliot next to her: ...?

- - - - -

Hardison: Go ahead. Put your hand up.

Parker: I don't want to do it.

Hardison: Woman.

Parker: I really don't want to go. Don't make me go.

Hardison: Girl! Take one for the team.

Parker: Okay! Me! Me! Me! Me! Pick me!

Chronos: You. Come on up here.

(Hardison and Parker stand. Hardison shows Parker something on his phone)

Hardison: The box is an SASJ-6412. This is how it works, all right?

(Hardison nudges Parker up on the stage. Chronos looks her up and down)

Chronos: Well... What's your name?

Parker: Kara!

Hardison: Yeah, Kara! Love you! Love you!

Chronos: Silence!

Parker: Love you, too. Sorry.

Chronos: Well, Kara, are you ready to step into the box... of mystery?

(assistant gestures to the box)

Parker: Uh. I don't know.

Chronos: I assure you, it's perfectly safe.

Hardison: I love you. (to another man) That's my girl. That's my baby. Sexy. She been doing Pilates.

Chronos: Give Kara a round of applause.

(Parker gets into the box and Chronos closes her in)

Hardison: Sexy stuff! Go ahead, girl. Do what you do.

(Chronos takes out several swords. He hands one to his assistant and pushes the other into the box)

Parker: Ow! Hey! Ow!!

(Parker grabs the sword and pulls)

Hardison: Oh!

Parker: Let go!

(Chronos tries to pull the sword out but it won’t move)

Chronos: She, she's perfectly all right.

Parker: Let go! Ow!

(the sword breaks and Chronos is left fumbling)

Hardison: Hey, Kara! Damn all that "she's all right." (Hardison comes up on stage) Baby?

(Hardison pounds on the box. Parker begins crying. The assistant tries to look into the box through the holes on the side)

Hardison: Um, baby? Baby? Man, if you don't –

(Chronos picks up another sword just as Hardison gets the doors open)

Parker: Just kidding.

Hardison: Ha! Isn't she great? Isn't -- come on.

(the audience gives applause)

Hardison: Snoodles. (they rub noses) Oh. Love you. (moves away from the box) And thank you and you and you and you-

also, hardison reassuring parker that she will be okay? I’m soft

...

(Chronos pulls out a set of rings)

Chronos: Interlocking rings.

Hardison: Hey, man, you, you forgot one over here. Just...

(Hardison takes a ring and hooks it onto the two Chronos is holding. The audience cheers)

Hardison: Thank you! That's dope, man. I like that.

Chronos: Get off my stage!

(Chronos pulls the rings away from Hardison

Hardison: Oh, look, y'all, this –

(Hardison takes one of the swords and pretends to ram it into his stomach)

Hardison: It, it ain't real. That ain't even all that, man. That's –

(Chronos grabs Hardison)

Hardison: Get -- get off –

(Chronos punches Hardison)

Parker: Oh, my god! Baby, I'm here!

(Chronos runs off stage while Hardison holds his eye)

Parker: I'm, like, totally here for you right now! Somebody get on your cell phone!

Hardison: I love you!

Parker: Get a dentist! You.

Hardison: I love you

also CHAOTIC PARDISON

- - - - -

Sophie: It's a good job you're not claustrophobic, Eliot.

Eliot: I was when I was a kid. (to Nate) Take this damn thing.

Nate: Oh, all right.

Parker: Really? How'd you get over it?

Nate: Here, Parker. (hands her the hat and rabbit)

Eliot: I locked myself in a woodshed behind my house for a couple nights. After that, I was fine.

(Parker hands the hat and rabbit to Hardison)

Parker: That is so funny. I was scared of the dark and did exactly the same thing.

[Flashback]

(a young Parker lays in a trunk that is sitting in a hole)

Girl: You ready?

(Parker pulls the trunk closed and several children fill in the hole)

[Auditorium]

Eliot: That's not the same thing. What's wrong with you?

P A R K E R WHY + their differences in childhoods tho

- - - - -

they keep on handing off the bunny until hardison loses it in the hat

+

Eliot: Damn it, Hardison!

- - - - -

Sophie: So, massively, there will be no magic show.

Nate: Oh, no, there might be a magic show. No, absolutely. We might want to treat these people to the illusionist extraordinaire, right

eliot laughing and nodding at him in the background

- - - - -

Hardison: See, Sophie’s Smartphone is picking up the RFID signal from the big boss's I.D. All she had to do was cozy up next to him and...

Parker: You picked his pockets without actually stealing anything? Cool.

Hardison: It's what I do. A man. A phone. No limits.

(security guards walk by as the doors close)

Eliot: How about "a man. A phone. No action"?

(Parker laughs and hands Eliot a bag)

Eliot: Come on, man, you left that out there like a hanging curveball.

the ot3 being idiots I love it

+ eliot hoisting parker up and out of the elevator, domestic thievery hijinks

- - - - -

Casten: So, with that, and the open bar, in mind, I'd just like to say thanks, everybody. And let's give a warm welcome to (checks notes) Harry turner, illusionist extraordinaire!

Sophie: That’s you. You’re on.

Nate: Parker, I need my assistant now!

Sophie: Yeah. Yeah, speaking of that, how come Parker gets to be the assistant?

[Elevator]

Hardison: How come Nate gets to be the magician? I do card tricks, too. I do great card tricks.

[Auditorium]

Nate: Can we talk about this later?

Sophie: Yeah, exactly. That's what I was just saying!

[Elevator]

Eliot: Does anybody want to do my job? Huh? I get punched and kicked.

[Auditorium]

Sophie: I just think that if it was me, we'd be better off –

poor eliot lmfao

- - - - -

parker falling and having the time of her life + eliot clipping the rope to hardison’s belt + hardison flying to the top of the elevator because of the rope pulling him + him falling on his face when parker unclips = chaotic ot3

- - - - -

Hardison: All the employee phones in this building are hooked up to the internal Wi-Fi. You remember the Trojan phone? It works both ways. See, I can use the server to access his phone. And once I'm in, I can see through his phone's camera.

Eliot: You can do that?

Hardison: Oh, you'd be surprised at what I can do. (changes display on phone)

BLATANT FLIRTING OH MY G O D

- - - - -

eliot and hardison curled up together under the desk to hide from the guards? cute

- - - - -

Hardison: It's not optical. They're using active capacitance. See, what happens is, it measures the change in voltage across the micro ridges of the --

Eliot: Can you get in or not?

Hardison: You... (reaches in his bag and pulls out a gummy frog)

Eliot: Gummy frogs?

Hardison: Gummy frogs have the same resistance as human skin, about 20 milliohms. (runs frog along the reader) What'd I say? That's a low-Tech hack right there

ELIOT’S PROUD SMILE

also does hardison always carry that fingerprint printer around ???

- - - - -

Sophie (to Parker, flourishing her arms): See, you're supposed to do it like this.

Parker: Next time, you jump down the elevator shaft.

Sophie: Oh, stop it. Everybody knows you love that.

- - - - -

(Hardison’s computer shows the junction room doors being locked)

Hardison: Uh-oh. (gets up and heads for the door)

[Elevator]

Eliot: "Uh-oh"? What do you mean, "uh-oh"?

Price: This isn't funny any longer!

(elevator door opens)

Guard: Step out of the elevator.

Eliot: Oh, that "uh-oh." (crosses his arms)

that’s like the second time he’s said that in the past couple episodes

- - - - -

on today’s edition of non-weapon-things-eliot-uses-as-weapons, he uses the mystery box that the CEO is in to help beat up one of the guards

- - - - -

(Hardison is demonstrating card tricks to Parker)

Hardison: And your queen should be... (holds up a seven of clubs) this right here.

(Parker holds up her queen)

Parker: Stole it.

Hardison: Y-you can't do that

- - - - -

Eliot: I'm finishing off the kung pao.

DOMESTIC

+ eliot’s wearing hair charms/braids again 🥰

[mystical-flute]

Uncharted Waters (ch 4)

AO3 || Ko-Fi

She wasn’t brought to the dining room the next morning. Instead, Croquet brought her breakfast in her room.

And the uncomfortable knot in her stomach she’d fallen asleep with only tightened.

As soon as the lock clicked shut again, she glanced over. “Azila?”

“I’m here.”

The ghost - guardian - whatever she was - materialized next to her, floating gently above the ground.

“Were you there last night when Pegasus and I were watching my cousin duel?”

“I was. Why?”

Reika wrapped her fingers around the mug of coffee, trying to get the chill of dread out of her system. “I noticed something odd. Yugi seemed… almost taller. Not actually taller but… he was carrying himself with his poster completely straight. He seemed… confident in himself. I love him, but that’s not exactly what he’s been like.”

“The spirit of the puzzle…” Azila said softly. “I’ll tell you what I know about him.”

She set the coffee mug down and nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“But I caution you, it is not much.”

“How come?”

Azila gazed out the window. “My husband was asked by him to erase all memory of his identity. I was told by Osiris to help guide him to the truth whenever the puzzle was solved, but he did not restore my memories.”

“Well… what is it? Why was he erased from history?”

“There was a war, back when I was alive. He sacrificed himself to save Egypt from destruction. I admit, we destroyed much about the war itself too, so I cannot recall the details, in order to protect ourselves,” Azila looked a little lost in her memories.

Reika frowned a little. “So he’s, what, some ancient Egyptian wizard, or something?”

“He was a noble. High-ranking, if I recall. He and my husband were best friends. It broke his heart to have to erase him from history.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes, Pharaoh Seto.”

The sound of footsteps distracted them, Azila vanishing from view for a moment as the door opened, revealing Kemo with another food cart.

He gave her a delight smirk as he approached, putting the empty plate on the bottom shelf.

“Miss Muto. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to talk last night,” he said as he set her food on the table next to her. “I’ve been quite busy with the tournament.”

“Yes, I’m sure kidnapping twelve-year-olds keeps you extremely busy,” she bit out. She ignored the food, taking the glass of wine into her hands. “What are you even doing here? I thought you worked for KaibaCorp.”

“What can I say? Mr. Pegasus has a better healthcare plan.”

“Bullshit.”

Kemo shrugged. “I prefer the new vision for KaibaCorp than the current one. I think that’s fair after working for a kid for three years.”

“You’re a traitor no matter how you try to justify it.”

“And what does it matter to you? You’re just some brat that was lucky to catch Alden’s attention. If it weren’t for him, you would have been thrown out of The Young Five when your mother disappeared,” Kemo sneered.

She tried not to let his words get to her, but she couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to her eyes and the knot that formed in the pit of her stomach.

It was enough for Kemo, who laughed. “But don’t worry, maybe you’ll get another lucky break once Master Pegasus gets his way.”

With that, Kemo swept from the room, the door locking behind him.

Reika set the wine glass back on the table with a shaking hand and lifted the lid of the tray, although she wasn’t very hungry.

“That man was quite cruel…” Azila’s soft voice said from next to her.

“It’s fine,” Reika replied, pushing the salad around her bowl with a fork. “He’s right. I did get lucky. It’s because Mr. Leichter picked me for the Young Five program that I was even able to meet Seto and Mokuba.”

“Who are they?”

“You’ve been talking inside my head for a year and you haven’t seen my memories?”

“I’m merely a guide. I figured it was better to not intrude on your memories.”

Reika looked at her, considering. Yes, it would be easy to agree and block Azila from her mind, but… maybe it’d be easier to just allow the spirit to see who she was. It was easier than saying it out loud, at least.

“It’s okay. If you want to go into my head you can. Seto is my boyfriend. Mokuba is his younger brother. Mokuba is the kid that was dragged in by Kemo last night when Croquet was dragging me back here,” she explained softly. “Seto took over a company from his adoptive father. They make games for children.”

“I assume this ‘takeover’ was not peaceful?”

“His stepfather jumped out the window after he lost. The company originally built tools made for war. Seto hated it and changed it, and it caused a bit of an uproar with some of the employees.”

“Do the rulers not make their own tools for war anymore?” Azila questioned. Her tone seemed annoyed, more than anything.

“Everything is made everywhere, it seems. Some parts are made in Japan, some in the United States,” Reika said, pausing when the ghost seemed confused. “Never mind. My parents wouldn’t tell me much anyway, since I was a kid, and then Leichter shielded me from most of it after they disappeared, and when Seto took over the company… I didn’t bother to ask.”

Azila tilted her head. “Were there other children at this KaibaCorp?”

She paused, setting her empty bowl down on the table. “Each of Gozaburo’s top executives had a child they brought around once in a while. It was called the Young Five Program. We learned about business under them, and Gozaburo was kind enough to pay for dance lessons and music lessons for us.”

“Was this Gozaburo some sort of king?”

Reika snorted, although there was little humor in it. “If anything, he likened himself to a sort of god.”

Azila’s eyes widened. “He wielded such power?”

“Gozaburo was a cowardly fool who liked to talk big,” Reika spat, glancing over at the spirit. “He only thought he had that sort of power, until he was outsmarted at his own game, and erased from this world, like he never existed at all…” she trailed off, suddenly lost in her own memories.

“I feel like you are no longer talking about Gozaburo.”

Her eyes glazed over briefly as she looked at the trees beyond her window. “It’s nothing.”

They were cut off at the sound of footsteps again, Azila disappearing just as Croquet unlocked and opened the door.

“Master Pegasus would like to see you now.”

“What’s with the prisoner treatment, Croquet? I was told I was getting a VIP experience,” she said dryly, following the man back to the too-large room.

“They were Master Pegasus’ orders,” he said simply. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Lots of people just ‘do their jobs’. Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing,” she spat before entering the room and staring down Pegasus, who was looking at her with a smug grin that had her dread returning as she took a seat.

“I hope you slept well, Reika-girl,” he began, sipping at a glass of wine.

“I slept as well as anyone could, given the whole blackmail thing,” she replied.

Pegasus’ face screwed into a pout that seemed unbecoming of a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. “You and Kaiba-boy have such a flare for the dramatics. It really is no wonder you two are together, and trust me, I could be making your little stay here so much worse . But… you and I are friends now, right?”

“Friends don’t blackmail their friends into telling them their deepest, darkest secrets,” she spat. “We aren’t friends.”

“We just got off on the wrong foot is all.”

She reached for the wine glass in front of her. If she could get a bit of a buzz, it might ease her tension. “I have to say, I don’t exactly feel like a VIP… what with being locked in my room all day.”

“I do apologize for that. I had some business to take care of. I believe you’ll be quite interested in what I have to show you.”

Reika quirked a brow, but turned her attention to the screen in front of her, the calm demeanor vanishing instantly.

Her boyfriend and her cousin, already locked in a duel.

“Why are they dueling?”

“The only way into my castle is to win ten star chips. As Kaiba-boy has none, he needed to get some in a hurry. Your cousin was the easiest target,” Pegasus said with a shrug.

There was the sinister tone again, and Reika watched the duel with dread, downing another large gulp of wine.

“If Kaiba-boy wins this duel, he’ll be playing the hero instead of the villain. Aren’t you proud of him?” Pegasus asked.

“Let me guess, the villain is you?” she asked dryly.

“If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. Kaiba-boy certainly seems to think so.”

“With good reason, seeing as you’re helping to stage a coup at his company. Surely, there was a better way to handle this?” she hadn’t exactly taken to the business life Leichter had been trying to teach her about, but hostile takeovers and kidnapping didn’t seem to be the best route.

“What can I say? I love the drama of it all.”

Reika’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t dare say anything further. He still had her grandfather, after all.

“When did Seto get here?” she finally asked quietly.

“Last night.”

More questions filled her head. Did Seto know she was here? Had Yugi told him? Had they managed to come up with a plan to beat Pegasus at his own game?

But no, as the duel continued, it was increasingly clear that there was no secret agreement between them, no master plan to stop Pegasus. Which was probably for the best - Pegasus could read minds, after all.

Except for hers.

If she got the chance to see Yugi or Seto, she knew she’d have to be careful with what she told him. If he faced off against Pegasus, she didn’t want to run the risk of him seeing something he shouldn’t.

Her hands curled into fists on her lap as the duel continued, afraid she would shatter something if she held onto anything.

And then, she watched in horror as Seto backed up to the ledge of the castle, taunting Yugi about the shockwaves that could push him off and into the forest below.

Bile rose in her throat.

There would be no winner of this duel.

She watched Yugi suddenly return to normal, calling off the attack right before it was too late, forfeiting the duel. She wasn’t mad at either of them - she couldn’t be. They were both pawns in a twisted game.

“Well, that was quite an exciting duel, wouldn’t you agree, Reika-girl?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she rasped. She couldn’t muster the energy for anger at this point.

“Mm, well, all the same. I think it’s time we congratulate the winner before the next duel starts, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Pegasus grinned as he rose to his feet. “Why, I’ll be dueling Kaiba-boy next, of course. And it wouldn’t be right of me to not allow you to see him after so long. Consider it a gift from a friend.”

“Allowing me to see my boyfriend. You must be the best friend I’ve never had,” she spat, standing on weak legs and following Pegasus out of the room.

Seto stood at the beginning of a long hallway, a sign pointing toward a duel arena just behind his shoulder. His face was twisted into one of pure loathing, which turned into confusion as he spotted her.

“Kaiba-boy, what a match! I knew that fire was still in you!” Pegasus said, pointedly ignoring Reika’s presence.

“Let’s just get this over with. I have a brother and a company to save,” Seto’s voice was nothing but venom.

Pegasus rolled his eyes. “You and your dramatics. I know our deal. I’ll be dueling you soon enough, but there are some things I need to prepare in the arena first. I’ll give you time to get reacquainted with Reika-girl, hmm?”

He sauntered off, leaving the two alone.

She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms tight around him. For a second, it was like nothing was wrong, that they were just hugging each other because it had been a year since she’d been in his arms. But that bliss didn’t last when she realized she was shaking.

“Reika… what are you doing here?”

“He invited me to be a VIP, but Seto, he’s got my grandfather hostage, and… he knows about us.”

“Wh - you mean about us dating?”

She nodded. “He read Mokuba’s mind,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’ve known me for six years. You think I’d lie about something like that?” she scoffed, pulling back.

“I think he’s just messing with your head. Trust me, it’s what he does,” Seto said, cupping her cheek. His eyes were a brilliant shade of blue that showed his ire toward Pegasus, and yet a flicker of fear just beneath the surface. “I’m going to beat him.”

She wanted to scream that there was a very, very high chance that he would not , but she didn’t have the energy to argue, instead she nodded in agreement. “I know.”

Lie.

Seto’s thumb stroked her cheek gently, before he bent to kiss her. As soon as his lips met hers, she melted into the touch, gripping his jacket tight in her fists. It was a kiss of passion, of everything she wished she could say but couldn’t.

“Oh, young love is such a beautiful thing.”

They broke apart, but Seto’s grip tightened against her back, pulling her closer against his chest as he stared coldly at Pegasus. “Are we dueling or not?”

Pegasus smirked, watching them with a critical gaze. “Of course we are. You can head to the arena whenever you’re ready. Croquet, please escort Reika-girl to the balcony so she can watch the duel.”

It felt like she was walking to a funeral.

“Reika!” Yugi called.

She forced a smile, forced her face to be calm, and prayed her eyes weren’t giving her away. “Hey Yugi,” she said, glancing over at the trio of not-duelists. “I thought you told me your friends weren’t allowed to come?”

“Pegasus made an exception,” Tristan said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Reika quirked a brow. “You snuck on the boat, didn’t you?”

Tristan pulled a face. “What? No don’t be ridiculous Reika! We’re VIP’s, just like you!”

She deadpanned. “Uh-huh. Well, far be it from me to tell you off for sneaking in somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged casually, leaning against the railing. “My friend Sanji and I snuck into a 21-and-over casino when I was still in the States.”

“You did what?!” Yugi snapped.

“It was fine, Yugi, don’t worry about it,” she said dismissively.

Lie.

It had been an infiltration mission. She had mingled on the casino floor to get intel while Sanji had gone deep underground to find their friends that had been taken hostage. She had gotten into an altercation with Miss All-Sunday of Baroque Works, and the night had ended with Luffy nearly being buried alive in the Alabastan desert.

Yugi gave her a look that said he didn’t quite believe her, but didn’t push the subject further. Instead, he turned toward the tall blonde woman that had come in with them. “Reika, this is Mai Valentine. She’s one of the competitors here and she helped us out a lot!”

Reika smiled. “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Reika Muto, Yugi’s cousin.”

“So you’re the famous Reika I’ve heard so much about this weekend. It’s nice to meet you,” Mai replied with a smile, shaking her hand.

“Attention: The exhibition match between Seto Kaiba and Maximillion Pegasus is about to begin,” Croquet’s voice suddenly cut through.

“Who are we supposed to root for?” Joey muttered.

Tristan frowned. “Can they just destroy each other?”

“Tristan, that’d mean we lose the one chance we have of saving Mr. Muto!” Bakura’s voice was nothing short of horrified. “I think all we can do is pray Pegasus doesn’t make any dirty tricks like he did with Yugi…”

“That might be wishful thinking…” Téa said quietly as Pegasus entered the arena and began making a fuss about the disks Seto had brought with him. When he called out for Mokuba, Reika���s heart stopped.

He’d gotten to Mokuba too.

She knew the duel was over before it even started.

“This is so messed up…” Téa whispered, Mokuba led away. “Why would he do something like this?”

“Because he has no soul,” Reika muttered. “This is going to be a disaster.”

The duel - if it could even be called that after one duelist read the others’ mind until they ran out of moves - was a bloodbath, and Seto ran out of cards in only a few turns.

“Well Kaiba-boy, it looks like I’ve won the duel and your company. But don’t worry, you’ll see your brother again,” Pegasus pulled an empty card out of his jacket pocket, and she had to force herself not to jump across the chasm, Croquet’s gun be damned.

Seto’s eyes flickered up at her a second before they became dull and listless. Hollow.

“Teach him to wash dishes or something!” Pegasus sneered as guards came to lead Seto away.

She hung her head, swallowing back the bile that kept threatening to overtake her. It wouldn’t be that hard to get to Pegasus. With Yugi and the others now in the castle, she doubted she would be watched and locked away like a prisoner. Surely, she could leave her room whenever she wanted and follow Pegasus wherever he was going. She could use force to get what she wanted.

She’d done it before.

“All he wanted to do was save his little brother… and all I want to do is save Grandpa. This isn’t fair…” Yugi murmured. “Reika…”

“What?” She couldn’t stop her voice from cracking.

“Are you okay?”

It was then she felt six pairs of eyes on her, reality came back into focus, and she stared at them.

Even if she wanted to lie, she knew she couldn’t - she could feel the exhaustion deep in her bones and knew it was probably clear on her face. “No. I’m not okay.”

“You’re upset about Kaiba? Why? He’s - ”

“My friend,” she snapped, staring at Joey with narrowed eyes. “He’s my friend, okay?”

“Kaiba has friends? After everything he’s done?”

Her eyebrow twitched in frustration. “Big talk for someone who bullied my cousin.”

“Wh - ”

“You think I don’t know what you did to Yugi before you magically became his friend?”

Yugi’s eyes widened in confusion. “I - I never told you that, Reika…”

“You didn’t have to. Your classmate Miho is my friend’s little sister. He’s the one that told me,” she explained. “So tell me, Joey, if you can have a friend - especially my cousin - why can’t Seto Kaiba?”

Joey opened his mouth, ready to retort, but Croquet’s gravelly voice cut him off.

“Dinner is served. Please follow me to the dining room.”

“That was an impressive show,” Mai said, slinging her arm around Reika’s shoulders. “But I guess that’s to be expected from anyone who can be friendly with someone like Kaiba.”

A small, genuine laugh managed to escape her. “You just have to know how to deal with him. It’s not that impressive when you’ve been doing it so long. But as for Joey, well…” she shrugged casually, watching the group with Yugi, Joey’s loud voice echoing through the hall. “He’s just lucky I wasn’t there before his transformation from bully to friend.”

“Feisty. I like you. I think we could be good friends.”

“I would like that, Mai,” she said as they took their seats at the long dining table.

Dinner was a blur, and as they were led to the rooms, Yugi followed her straight to hers.

“Reika… can we talk?”

She gave him a tired smile. “Always.”

“I’m scared about tomorrow,” Yugi admitted, sitting on the loveseat. “You know how we talked about our items having ghosts in them?”

She nodded.

“Mine… he… he can do magic. He keeps doing magic. I don’t know how! But the worst part was when he didn’t even flinch at the thought of Kaiba being knocked off a tower during our duel tonight.”

Reika pressed her lips together. “Have you… talked to him?”

“I’m scared to. What if he tries to hurt me?”

She sighed. “Yugi…”

“I’m serious! Dueling can kill people, especially with him around!”

“So don’t wear the puzzle when you duel.”

Yugi looked as if she’d slapped him. “I can’t not wear it! I… feel a bond with it. I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t.”

“Okay, then talk to him.”

“But…”

Reika frowned. “You don’t have many options here, Yugi, especially if you want to be at the top of your game.”

He sighed. “I know… I’m just afraid that dueling is only going to cause more trouble.”

That sparked an idea, and she rose to her feet, going to her bag. “Dueling, huh? Do you have your deck on you?”

“Yeah, why?”

She returned to her chair, setting her own deck on the table between them. “Practice on me. I’m not afraid of you, or the spirit in your puzzle.”

Yugi looked hesitant, but swallowed thickly and pulled out his deck. “A-alright… let’s duel.”

He started off hesitant, but slowly, he came into his own once again, and by the time he’d beaten her, the spirit was smiling, relaxed.

“You see?” she said, taking her cards and shuffling them again. “All you need to do is work together, and you’ll be just fine tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Reika. Goodnight.”

She collapsed onto the bed, her mind whirling

“It’s up to you now, Yugi,” she whispered into the darkness.

[tinycrow]

I don’t believe in miracles

Chapter 2: Discovery

:: Unknown Location ::

It had officially been half a decade since Mission City. The autonomous robotic organism and caretaker named Ray was no longer finding ‘babies’ that were sparked by the entity known as the All-Spark. She hoped that this was because she had collected them all, rather than the babies dying off or being otherwise ‘acquired’ by another agency. With no real reason to risk being seen, she spent most of her time raising the sparklings at her home base. This was fine, she thought. She enjoyed seeing her sparklings grow to become upstanding workers in what was now a bustling, little city.

There were massive infrastructure changes that had been going on since the events in Egypt. There were 5 major underground tunnels that stretched across their territory. 3 of five tunnels led to an underground bunker that would hopefully protect any humans/non-humans that needed to wait out an attack on their fair city. It wouldn’t survive a direct hit from a nuclear explosion, but it was placed in such a way that it would hopefully not be targeted. It would keep warm and safe any occupants for a couple years. Other than the bunker, the tunnels provided a warmer route between buildings in the city, especially for humans. Still, it wasn’t uncommon for non-human residents to take up the role as “taxi” for other, smaller friends aboveground.

Because of this shift in foot traffic, non-humans were able to speed through the streets, rarely having to stop. Street racing was becoming a problem in recent years, to Max and Ray’s chagrin. There had been ongoing talk of incorporating bigger ‘bots into Max’s team in order to better police the streets, but ‘bots reaching near Ray’s size tended to be rare, considering how young all the other ‘bots in the city actually were.

There were also more places in the city to just hang out as well as enjoy food and drink. The greenhouse now sported a nice café as well as a plethora of flowers and other plant life.

“Okay. We’re going for a drive.”

“It’s... cold out,” Ray lamely refused, shoulders hunching slightly as she sat at a desk to read reports on her large data pad.

“It’s always cold out. We live in the freaking An-“

“I’m busy.”

“I know for a fact that you’ve already read through the security and finance reports. The rest can wait.”

“My babies-“

“-Are being taken care of by a team of now fully-trained humans and ‘bots. Besides, you don’t usually attend them at this hour anyway. We won’t be gone that long.”

Ray was silent and contemplative as she stared downward at Linda Davies, her long-time friend. Back when she was still roaming America, the red-headed woman had been one of her only companions, worried only about helping them both survive the next day. Linda was the one to suggest the novel idea of creating a place to call their own in a place outside the jurisdiction of any opposing government. It was a crazy idea from a possibly crazy friend, but then again, Ray’s life on Earth wasn’t sane from the very start.

Linda glared back in defiance. “You need a break. Enjoy some sunshine. Talk with friends.”

The ‘bot contemplated arguing with Linda more. They both knew, however, that Ray would be going with Linda. With a sigh, Ray put away the data pad and stood.

“Inside the city, or...?”

“I’ve got my eyes on someplace warmer.”

==

:: California, America ::

It was a much different experience, driving at a sedate/normal pace along with the rest of human-driven traffic. Ray didn’t mind it, but Linda seemed peeved as she shifted irritably in the front passenger seat. Perhaps she was too hot? Ray checked the temperature of the cabin and found it to be at a comfortable level with her cooling unit already on. Maybe she wanted some music? She pulled a playlist from the internet that seemed pretty popular.

Linda’s mood barely improved.

“What’s wrong, Linda?”

“I hate traffic.” She grumped, “How about... we stop for coffee and then drive farther from the center of town?”

The holoform in the driver’s seat frowned in thought.

“I guess... Though I feel less safe the farther from the ground bridge we are.”

“We won’t be long.”

==

An hour passes, and the two friends were driving along into the California countryside with the windows down and a coffee in Linda’s hand. Music was blaring from Ray, pulled from various sources as well as internal storage. They didn’t speak much, just enjoyed the feeling of being on the road again.

“Ah, I missed this,” the not-so-young woman said nostalgically, “I love our home, but I wish we had this kind of scenery, you know?” Linda griped with a smile.

“I agree. California’s nice. Actually... Earth is very nice.”

Linda smacked the dashboard lightly, causing the holoform to flicker out for a millisecond. The black-haired and green-eyed holoform grimaced with a small admonishment.

“Sorry. But you talk like you weren’t born here.”

Ray seemed to pause at that. “I suppose it is weird.” She hummed, and explained, “Sometimes it feels that way, you know? Being so different from the literal billions of humans that populate this planet.”

“And your time... before you changed?”

“Well...” The holoform exhaled harshly, “I lived a pretty lonely life. Other than the times I would help out local charities, nothing really made me happy. I’m pretty satisfied with where we are now, and I want to continue working in making life at home better for all of us. For all our kind.”

It was Linda’s turn to be thoughtful. She slowly formed the words, “You really want to open our home to the aliens.”

“Yes.” The answer came subdued but serious.

A familiar car turned onto their road.

The radio turned off.

“Linda, don’t be alarmed.”

Said woman’s back straightened. “Okay, we’ve gotta talk about ways to deliver bad news. What’s wrong?”

“That car behind us...  is one of the aliens we were discussing.”

Linda looked into the rear-view mirror and saw the silver sports car quickly gaining ground on them.

“Fuck no, he don’t.” Linda looked at the holoform of her friend, very displeased expressions on both their faces, “Can’t you go faster?”

“That depends. Are you going to throw that coffee away?”

“Is this really the time to worry about— “

“THROW IT.”

“OKAY!”

The coffee cup went sailing out the window and into the dry, yellow grass. The moment it hit the ground, Ray’s engine revved and her speed started steadily but quickly climbing. Because the road was fairly straight most of the way, she wasn’t worried about having to suddenly turn 90 degrees.

~ Ray and Linda to Shawn and Max. Linda and I are being followed. I need an emergency ground bridge. Are either of you at the console? ~

~ Shawn, here. I’m not, but I can be. Where are you, Sunshine? ~

~ Ray. We are in the California countryside. I don’t want to lead them back to the warehouses. Max, are you— ~

There was a huff of exhaustion as Max chimed in. ~ Max. I’m at the console. Send your coordinates. ~

Ray sent her coordinates as well as those of the car behind her. She told them how fast she was going.

Max swore. ~ There’s no way you can slow down, but if I send a ground bridge, you’re going to be a pancake on the building wall. I’ll look up exits. ~

Linda, hearing the conversation in her earpiece, gained a look of grim revelation.

~ Linda, here. I know none of us want to consider it, but we may need to fight. ~

Max was dismissive of the idea. ~ There are many reasons that won’t work. For one, they’re much more skilled at fighting than we are. There’s also the fact that they may be getting backup, while we don’t have anyone to backup Ray, unless we use the children— ~

Ray’s hackles rose at the thought, and she interrupted, ~ You are not sending my children after me. ~

Max sighed, sounding like he’d heard this, many, many times before.

~ I wasn’t going to. Look, there’s a gentle turn coming up, if you can pull a miracle and lose him, I can send a bridge to Point A. ~ Max sends Ray coordinates to a nearby farm.

~ Or to Point B. ~ He adds a new pointer further away.

~ Keep me apprised. ~ Max said, finally.

Ray affirmed the decision and planned. Knowing Linda would not approve, she kept it mostly to herself. She turned off the holoform, wanting to reserve processing power. It caught Linda’s attention.

“Ray?”

“Do you trust me?”

Linda narrowed her eyes at the dashboard, hearing her voice echo throughout the cabin.

“Do you trust me?”

==

~ Prime, that strange, unknown Cybertronian appeared again. They appear to have a human with them. I’m following them. ~

~ The human must be returned unharmed. Send your coordinates and we will block their escape routes. You are not to attack while they have the human. ~

~ Understood. ~

==

Ray took the gentle, right turn with slightly less speed but fully screeching tires. She would not let her friend come to harm. If this was to end in a confrontation, she would see her friend home, safe and sound with her people.

The dilapidated barn designated as Point A was coming up fast, and she swerved violently as she skidded to a halt, kicking up a massive storm of dust and dirt. She popped the door open. Linda jumped out, expecting a fight to happen. Just as expected, Ray transformed into her bipedal form, stance loose but looking vaguely like she was ready to fight.

~ Lin’, run to the barn and get that bridge open. ~

~ On it! ~

As the dust cleared, Linda had disappeared into the barn. Ray stepped cautiously forward, wanting to put distance between Linda and the other ‘bot. The silver car drifted in, transformed, and pulled out their blade all in one well practiced movement.

“Release the human, Decepticon, and I will let you live.”

Ray attempted to stall for time. “Not even a hello? A name? I’m afraid you got me at a disadvantage, sir.”

He stepped forward predatorily. She took a hesitant step back.

“Don’t play games with me, ‘con.”

~ It’s open! Hey, Max, wha—hey! Let me go! Ray! ~

Ray cut the transmission with some guilt, and opened a silent communication with Max.

~ Thanks, Max. ~

~ You realize the consequences of what you’re about to do, right? ~

~ I do. I leave my fate in your and our council’s hands. ~

“Well?”

Ray raised her hands slowly in surrender. With determination and serenity, she watched as a semi raced up to his comrade and transformed into bipedal form beside him. She blinked her optics at the new weapon pointed at her.

“I am no Decepticon.”

Sideswipe sneered, “Likely story. What were you doing with that human, then?”

“We were enjoying coffee and a drive through the California countryside,” she said calmly, and at the looks of disbelief, she clarified unnecessarily, “Oh, she was drinking coffee. I find no nutritional value in it.”

“Where is the human?” Optimus asked, getting back to the crux of the matter.

“Oh, back home I’m assuming. Max came by to pick her up.”

“Who is Max?”

“He’s chief of security for a rather large community of people. Are you going to arrest me, officers?”

Optimus gave a look to Sideswipe. Sideswipe resisted grumbling and cautiously approached the possibly deranged Ray, who had yet to draw a weapon.

“You are to follow us to an extraction point. If you deviate from the course, we will be forced to subdue you.”

“Alright, if you insist. Don’t stare at my bumper, I’m quite shy.”

The two mechs stared at her, and then glanced at each other.

‘Taking them off guard would be more fun if I wasn’t so terrified for what the future holds,’ she thought, and she thought of the children she probably wouldn’t be seeing in a very long time. She thought of the danger they could be in if things didn’t go well.

She focused on the details of the two mechs in front of her, hoping to ground herself, and pushed her fears down. She followed one mech and was in turn followed by the other.

==

A pacific Ray sat, essentially blinded in most senses, in what seemed to be a place for general storage. They had temporarily cut off her sight and other various sensors, leaving her with hearing and what was the robotic equivalent to touch. She had guessed that her captors did not have a designated holding area for non-human prisoners (a brig), and to keep their own secrets safe, deemed it necessary to take these precautions. She tried to be mad about it, but a large part of her understood; the Autobots and the humans associated with them were looking for Decepticons, and most Decepticons would rather die than be taken prisoner. Shuddering in fear, she admitted being blinded and constantly guarded wasn’t the worst that could’ve happened to her.

She sang a slow, crooning melody to pass the time and ease any anxiety.

Watching nearby were a pair of cold, blue optics that shuttered briefly at the sound. Memories from long, long ago of similar songs sung to them as a youth slipped into their awareness. The owner of these blue optics resisted the feelings of compassion and sympathy that threatened to take them off guard.

==

In a room far from the femme’s prison, the Autobots (barring one) were in a serious discussion.

“The femme certainly doesn’t act like any Decepticon I’ve seen,” Ironhide admitted.

“And of course, there’s no insignia showing which faction,” Sideswipe said, “Though she did run when she saw us. That’s enough cause for me.”

Optimus rumbled in thought, “Ray associates with humans. For most Decepticons, that would be beneath them.”

A human soldier also piped up, “What about her eye colour? Don’t they usually have red eyes?”

“The colour of one’s optics do not necessarily mean anything. Many Decepticons you have seen may have had red, but there have been those on our side with red as well. Hers are green, which are rarer, but it does not hold any specific meaning,” Optimus explained for the humans’ benefit. “Ratchet, what are your thoughts?”

“The femme has been compliant in every procedure taken to secure her as our prisoner. She has no internal weapons system, however she willingly offered information about her subspace storage containing a rifle, which I have disabled access to as well.”

No internal weapons? Not even a blaster? What kind of warrior disables themselves by not acquiring a proper weapon, especially in a war? The room erupted in chatter.

“Quiet.” The Autobot leader ordered, and then urged Ratchet to continue.

“I have been analyzing the unique radiation that she emits and can come to no conclusions yet. I will note however, that there’s something familiar about it.”

“Familiar, how?” Optimus inquired curiously.

“I cannot say for certain,” Ratchet demurred.

“Keep me updated,” their leader acquiesced, to which the chief medical officer just nodded.

In a quick private comm with Ratchet, Optimus asked, ~ Might I assume you do not want to broadcast whatever it is that is ‘familiar’? ~

~ You are correct. The radiation emitting from the Femme seems to react uniquely with the materials immediately surrounding her. On a molecular level, they are... moving unnaturally. ~

This news surprised Optimus, as this ability was something entirely new. ~ Could it be a new weapon? ~

~ It is hard to say. However, it’s familiar to one of the abilities of an entity we all know of and have lost. ~

~ ... We will talk about this later. ~

~ Indeed. ~

“For now, we will keep her under constant guard. Ratchet, you will continue studying her. All of you are to report any suspicious behaviour. If that is all, you are dismissed.”

==

One week after capture...

She heard a particular set of footsteps approaching and looked up with a genuine curve of her dermas (lips). She recognized those footsteps that had been visiting her almost every day since her capture. She greeted him sweetly.

“Ratchet.”

Ratchet didn’t bother hiding his pleased expression, knowing she couldn’t see.

“You can leave,” he told the guarding Autobot.

Arcee’s optics shuttered and opened again slowly in shock. “Ratchet?”

“Don’t worry, Arcee, she’s not going anywhere. But I technically count as her guard while I am here,” he explained, “so let me work in peace.”

Arcee, aware of Ratchet’s legendary temper, took the out as she saw it gracefully. “Alright. I’ll check in with you in one earth hour.”

“See you later, Arcee!” Ray smiled at the air, not quite sure where Arcee was as the femme was light-footed or on wheels? It was hard to tell.

When Arcee left, Ray turned to where she thought Ratchet was. A puzzled look and an inquiry were sent up to his left shoulder plate, “Is there a reason you sent her away?”

Ratchet settled himself in for a long conversation. There was the squeak of metal compacting slightly as he assumingly sat down on a crate. Ray was already sitting on the concrete with her legs tucked to the side. Her back strut straightened in attention as this event was different to the quiet study and offhand questioning he usually does. Though Ratchet had been nothing but gentle—if grumpy at times—with her, she wondered if that was about to change. Her spark quickened in a small niggling of anxiety.

It must’ve shown in her expression, because he quickly said, “You’re not going to come under any harm in my care, I assure you.”

Ray relaxed slightly, but still had her doubts as she asked, “Is something the matter?”

“I’ve been talking with Optimus and we both agree that it’s time to consider long term plans for your stay here. You have proven yourself to be non-hostile as well as open to our prodding at you and your radiation field. Such good behaviour does not warrant what could be considered torture by sensory deprivation.”

She simply stared blindly at him for a second before slowly admitting, “It would be nice... to see whom I am talking to.”

It only took around 15 minutes to re-enable the appropriate sensors, and he was being intentionally slow and careful. The first thing she saw was thick, yellow-plated servos. When they pulled away, her green optics were wide and bright as they took in the much taller mech. He was sitting, but by her estimates he would probably be at least 5 feet taller than she was. She vocalised a high whistle and winked.

“Cheeky brat. I bet you and Bumblebee would get along just fine.”

Ray took a moment to look at one of her kind captors. She knew the aliens were well armoured and gunned; she had seen it on the day of her capture. However, even the kind medic that had been in her company for days now seemed alarmingly well built. Subconsciously, she pulled her legs up to her chest, in the foetal position. She never liked conflict, but she understood why good people fought. Once upon a time, she was a fighter too, before The Change. But those were weaker foes compared to the aliens she faced now.

“There’s something else we’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You constantly assure us that you are not a Decepticon, but none of us recognize you, nor do we see any mark of affiliation with us.”

She was silent for a while. Ratchet seemed to wait patiently as she seemed to deliberate, optics tracing a path on the ground. The black-armoured femme seemed to come to a conclusion and faced him with a brave speech.

“That is because I am neither a Decepticon nor an Autobot.”

Ratchet didn’t seem surprised by her answer. Truthfully, Optimus and he had been speculating on this ever since she came into their custody. It was hard to believe, but it was the only explanation that fit. The Neutrals had been exterminated early on in the war. This faction was mostly made up of ones who could not or would not fight for one reason or another. They usually had a hard time making a living, and Decepticon raids would eventually become the reason that no Neutral was thought to be alive to this day.

If Ray was a Neutral, it would explain her behaviour towards humans and conflict with either of the opposing factions.

It didn’t quite explain away the radiation that caused nearby molecules to dance almost excitably in her vicinity, or the way she could put you at ease in her presence—a feeling of protection and unconditional love. There was just something missing from this explanation that Ratchet needed to figure out. He had asked specific questions before, but hopefully this time she would willingly answer.

“What colony are you from?”

His question was met with silence. Ratchet withheld a sigh of disappointment, but something in his demeanour must have changed. She saw his disappointment and immediately felt guilty.

She wanted so badly to tell the truth, but it couldn’t be helped. Her people had rights to their privacy and security. She hadn’t gotten communication from the council indicating it was okay to share that information—Ratchet didn’t know but she had easily repaired the severed wires in her antennae. Anyway, it was doubtful that the council would ever agree to open their city to the Autobots, because she knew the humans were afraid. She wished that the time they spent in her and her babies’ presence would ease some of that fear, but it was still not an easy decision to make. She could only hope her feelings reached the people she loved and trusted.

Ratchet tried a different angle, “When did you arrive on earth?”

Ray’s optics, formerly gazing guiltily away, snapped up to Ratchet. This she could technically answer. Her voice was soft but sure as she answered.

“Sometime in the 80’s. But I didn’t start travelling until the late 90’s and didn’t find a place to settle until... the Mission City disaster.”

He thought on this for a bit. It was a bit telling when the femme would be forthcoming with all topics except for where she came from and where she was staying. It made him wonder if there were more Neutrals hiding somewhere.

“Who was that travelling with you when we found you?”

With a pang of anxiety, Ray cautiously revealed, “Linda. She’s a good friend of mine. She... gave me a home.” It was as close to truth as possible. Linda didn’t just give her a home but had helped build it.

“Is there a way we can contact Linda?” He asked, and seeing her wariness, he continued, “If you were happy with her before, I’m sure Prime would let you return as her guardian.”

Ray visibly struggled with herself. There was distress at wanting to be open about her home—she was so proud of what she had helped build—but wanting to respect her people’s wishes. Something in her rattled, and her dentas clenched reflexively.

“I want to... but I can’t... I can’t... It’s not safe... We do not trust...” Her processor stuttered through the many things she wanted or needed to say but was scared of divulging. It created a loop she could not break herself out of.

Ratchet’s servo braced itself on her shoulder, and her continued stuttering petered out. His voice was consoling as he assured her that the Autobots did not mean her or any friend of hers harm, that they had promised to protect humans from the Decepticon threat. The rattling of her mechanical parts somewhere in her quieted, and she took in and vented out air harshly in a very human gesture of recovery.

“There you go. Easy now. You’re safe.”

He tried to pick up the conversation afterward, but her continued silence was worrying. Did she not feel safe here? Granted they took precautions to protect the base’s secrets, but she had not shown any negative effects of the treatment until now. He would speak with Optimus about improving the conditions of her stay here.

==

Three weeks after capture...

It had taken a lot of arguing, but she was finally allowed to—under strict supervision and great limitation—to ‘step’ out of the storage room. Though, to protect the secrets of the existence of Cybertronians, she was only allowed to be in vehicle mode, and it would be in the evening when most of the day’s work was done. Perhaps they were afraid of spy satellites seeing their bipedal forms. With her sight restored, she took the time away from the constant interrogation to simply enjoy the sunshine and the sound of waves nearby. She drove circles or figure 8’s around her guard as well as objects to exercise her precision driving. She even asked her guards about stunts like wheelies, which the amused Autobots agreed to teach her in the limited time she had outside.

Inside the storage room, she would turn into bipedal mode to work her joints, cables, and pistons. She would contort herself in all the ways she knew possible before she grew bored. Sometime during the middle of the day, Ratchet would come along to poke, prod, or ask her things. Very rarely did she ever see Optimus Prime, the Autobots’ leader. When she asked once, she was told he was very busy dealing with the human government and their liaisons. It wasn’t explicitly said, but it was obvious to her that the human government wasn’t happy with the Autobots’ continued stay on Earth.

Though Ray did her best to keep the secret of her little city, she could see that the Autobots were beginning to piece together little things she had been saying (or hadn’t remembered saying). They brought up what she said when Sideswipe and Optimus first cornered her at the abandoned farm, about Max and Linda, about the mysterious warehouse that was obviously just a warehouse and nothing to be suspicious about—

She wasn’t very good at this secret keeping business. Ray supposed it was inevitable that a race so much more experienced than she would start to figure it out, and she only hoped that her people would forgive her.

==

1 month after capture...

Not much changed over the next week, except she obviously gained some level of trust with the Autobots and was involved in less discrete conversations more. Perhaps they had figured out her secret already. They avoided telling her what they thought, so she wasn’t sure.

It was a little over a month when she got a communication from Max, who obviously spoke for the council in this matter. The break in the comm silence ever since her capture took her so off guard, that she froze in the middle of an interrogation. When asked what was wrong, she was too shocked to formulate the words she needed to say, and instead asked to be given some time alone with her guard.

It took her two hours to gather her courage, but she asked to meet with Optimus and Ratchet, stressing that she wanted them alone or she wouldn’t reveal anything. After the agreement was secure, she tried to secure the area against listening devices or humans, using her powers discretely to do so.

It was time.

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Yule Man (5/7)

Told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

On the Solstice Eve of that year Chris arrived back in Arnsberg close to the old bridge. Once again, he dressed in a long fur coat and dirty beggar clothes, carrying an old bag. He touched his face and discovered his shaggy beard hadn't changed at all. Deep down he still had hoped things to be different.

The town changed even more from the last time. Entire neighborhoods seemed to have withered away. Filthy tenements with shattered windows and people dressed no better than him. Beggars and homeless children scattered everywhere. Pain and sorrow stamped on everyone's faces.

"What happened here?"

He walked faster as he could until he reached a church in a better part of the town. Exhausted, he rested leaning on a statue of the Silver God. As soon as he saw him, the priest shoved him away as a dog. Somethings never change at all.

He wandered in those streets, until an old woman stopped him. She looked exactly like the grandmas in Sophia's picture books.

"You're the Yule Man, right? I know her." The old woman chuckled. "She told me if I saw you, I should send you to this address."

And she gave him the address and went her own way.

"Mia?" He looked to the piece of paper in his hands.

The address lure him to a small building downtown. Candlesticks illuminated the windows. Rows of holly and mistletoe were hanged through it with care. The sign in the door announced the place to be closed, yet they forgot the door open.

A huge man dressed in all black from the head to the toe stepped out of the store. On his way out he bumped with Chris.

"Happy Yuletide!" He took off his bowler hat to greet him, when Chris thought he saw all the evil of the world in his eyes.

He then disappeared in the mundane crowd. Chris entered the store, without knowing what he had saw.

Still confused, he called:

"Is anyone here?"

He saw full-body mirrors, measure tapes and cushions lying on the floor. Pieces of fabrics were scattered everywhere. Some carefully sorted and saved in shelves and cabinets. Others dropped over wooden tables. Someone had engraved dozens of needles on the heads of the mannequins. That unsettled him.

A woman in a purple dress shirt turned to him from the balcony. Seeing her face drove all his fear and worries away. In what seemed like the interval between seconds, he jumped to her arms, which closed tight around his body. He had returned to Mia.

He glared at her. She didn't look like the rich girl he had met. Her clothes showed simplicity this time. Modest and simple. A purple coat and skirt, covering a blue waistcoat.

She served him a cup of hot cocoa. She knew exactly what would fill him with happiness and made him warm. By the look in his face, she did it right again. She brought him to a small apartment over the store. The place stroked as tiny, yet still cozy and not uncomfortable at all. Chris saw a moderate Yule tree with some Yule Goats around, and he knew Mr. Hayek lived there.

They sat by her blue coach. He made a silly face that said to her. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

She took a sip from her teacup and started.

"After the Yule, I took my part in father's inheritance and left the shrew alone." She told him, and both on that room felt deep pride for her.

There was a sense satisfaction in her face. He loved finding that in her. Chris managed to smear himself with the drink and it made her happy.

"You're a tailor now?" He teased her.

"Being a writer wouldn't work out for me." She smirked.

She gave him a white blouse.

"Dress it."

From the bathroom he came as handsome as she remembered him. Mia struggled to keep her good form.

"I didn't say to shave the beard. You can keep if you want."

"I don't want!" He winked to her.

She continued telling him her year.

"I bought this place from an old woman. She wanted to retire and pass more time with her family. She actually helped a lot setting all this up."

He turned to her.

"Was she the woman who bring me here?"

"Possibly." Mia gestured with her shoulders. "I told everyone that I knew that if they saw you, they should give you the address of this place."

"And who was that man I saw getting out of the store. He creeped me out."

Mia grew quiet. She exhaled. Talking about him never brought her any pleasure.

"It would be Franz Müller, the Cat’s-eye. He's a loan shark who thinks a lot about himself. Each month me and all business in the neighborhood have to pay his fees. Don't think much about him, most of the time he just takes the money and leave us alone.

The question frightened Chris.

"What happened to the town?"

Mia shut her eyes.

"Economic crisis, and my father can't help them this time."

"What about the ball in the Hayek’s mansion?"

She raised her voice to him.

"Which ball!"

That sudden change of mood made him jump out of his place.

"Sorry, mother closed the gates of the mansion to the town. She's still rich. Made a deal with my father's business partners. She guaranteed hers but forgot about everyone's else." She said full of deep resentment.

"I kind learned this by myself because you. I don't want to brag, but I'm good at this." She continued. "I bought this place. Learned a trade. Started to work."

"So, you're a working-class woman now?" He smirked.

"It's what it looks. I still have part of my father's inheritance. And with the work I got I can sustain myself quite comfortably for quite a while."

Night had come. Chris released his bag over her terrace, filling the sky with the magical snowflakes. All the town saw the light and cold dash up into the clouds. Billions of ice crystal dancing and flowing through the air. Mia never got tired of seeing that scene.

She launched the Yule Log into her simple fireplace, and they both sat close by it.

"I want to give you something."

She gave Chris a box. A beautifully wrapped present.

"Happy Yuletide." She couldn't wait to see his reaction.

He opened the box. A tiny bottle full of shiny white sand inside, and little seashells keeping it in good company. He knew exactly where they were from. His eyes filled themselves. He started to cry, to sob even, and still laugh of happiness. He hugged her, and he didn't let her go. His first Yule present ever.

They sat on that place for hours, and still hadn't ran out of things to say to each other.

"Your mother?" He asked.

"Still angry with me. After a time, I stopped trying to save our relationship. It wasn't worth it in the end. I still get to see my siblings. Will take them to Yulesing tomorrow. Without the Solstice Eve Ball, I worry how they will spend the holidays."

Mia explained to Chris how things had got different. This year she couldn't take him to party through Arnsberg.

"I don't care. I only want to be near you."

They stayed hours doing completely nothing. They enjoyed each other's conversation and company in general. The cold was the best sensation ever and the room was as cozy as it could be.

In the end of the night Chris tasted Mia's lips. She had thought they would never come to that. She led him to her room, where she felt his body in hers. Soft, tender, perfect.

They stayed in bed hugged to each other. Through the window in the wall opposite to them they could see the snow slowly dressing the world in white.

"I love you." She said resting her head on his chest.

He felt physical pain saying that:

"This isn't love. It's just a romantic fantasy. What you have for me isn't real. I'm not real. You can't love a person you only spend thirteen days within the whole year." He forced a small laugh.

Her mouth twitched.

"I can if it's true love."

His forehead puckered.

"You don't have to put up with me for the rest of the year. We don't go through the same stuff other couples go through. When the holidays are over, I'm gone. I'm won't think, I'm won't feel, I won't remember a thing. I won't be."

"Chris!"

"Sorry. What we got are only moments."

"So, why are you so against enjoying them. In general, everyone's life is just a moment. They live, they die, and it's over. At least I can enjoy a time with you. For me it's already worth it."

He closed his eyes.

"I'm dying to go to Lichthafen City with you."

He gave her a faintly smile. The room then became quiet.

In the next day they went to take the Hayek children to Yulesing. Mia knew very well that Chris loved it more than the children. Her siblings were nothing more than an excuse for doing that. Yet, he loved her siblings. They stayed with them for half of their days together. They had fun.

In the other half they stayed alone in Mia's apartment over her tailoring shop. Cuddling in her bed, eating sweets, and watching the world through that window. Best days ever, for both of them.

The Yule Log turned to ashes. Time to go again, and again in the next year he returned, in the exact same manner. Time passed, and he left, and left, and still returned to her. Each year, thirteen days only.

Chris watched the town change and change around him, and only he stayed the same. In a wink of time, Sophia, Fritz and Thomas started to leave childhood. How much that stroked pain in him. Even Mia started to look more like his older sister than his lover.

Poverty spread through the town as if a disease. Good and respectable neighborhoods crumbled to ruins before his eyes. Organized crime and urban violence turned Yulesing a thing of the past. Mr. Müller became much more than a simple loan shark.

Everything changed, less him.

[kny111]

Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting*

by Julio Vincent Gambuto

*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your family on a Royal Caribbean cruise makes you: special. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and H&M and Wal-Mart to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte or sip a Diet Coke, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not without purpose. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted, and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin. We have got to do better and find a way to a responsible free market.

Until then, get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming. _________________________________________________________ Continue To Full Piece At Medium

[knives-out20]

City Of Stars - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Gay, Erik being genuinely happy,

Notes: Sorry I disappeared for a few weeks. Had a lower back injury thing that I won’t get into, and it led to me to not being able to go to school, sit down, etc, so I thought it best to take a break from writing until I got better. But now I’m back!! The song used is City Of Stars from La La Land- specifically the Hollywood Mix. No spellcheck, we die like men. Enjoy!

Karmel offered his hand to Erik, sunlight shining through the nearby window and into his dirty-blond hair. “May I have this dance?”

Erik scoffed, looking him up and down. “You may...but with what music?”

“You act like we’ve never danced in silence before, Ricky. If you’re that pissy about it, I could sing.” Karmel teased.

Erik took Karmel’s hand, pulling him a step closer. “That’d be lovely, actually.”

Karmel rolled his eyes, making the first move in their dance. “I call this one ‘City Of Stars’” he introduced. “City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars, there’s so much that I can’t see.” Karmel started, looking Erik in the eyes.

Erik quickly caught on. “By ‘city of stars’, you mean my eyes, don’t you, dear?”

“You’re no fun,” Karmel pouted, pushing Erik away with one hand, only to quickly pull him back in. “Who knows? I felt it from the first embrace that I shared with you,” he carried on, quickly pulling Erik in too close for comfort.

But close enough for Erik to place a gentle kiss on his neck.

Karmel closed his eyes, praising the moment for what it was before pulling away. “That now our dreams may finally come true,” he hummed, glancing out the window and over the direct view he had of Genosha. Karmel smiled softly, knowing that that lyric was more than true. Would he have liked his current status to have just a few altercations? Yes, definitely, no doubt about it- and Erik knows this, obviously. But Karmel’s the happiest he’s been in ages, and he feels that’s good enough for him.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“You know what I mean, dove.”

Karmel’s lips formed a line in response. “I mean...yea, but- but it has nothing to do with you, so don’t even try to start on that shit.” He pointed at Erik, other hand cupping his lover’s cheek. Karmel’s thumb stroked the side of Erik’s face, in comfort. “I love where we’re at, right now, I really fuckin’ do. But you just...gotta give me a bit of time to adjust. I went from living like- like- like, you know how I lived, I don’t need t’explain again. To living on a remote, forest-y island. I went from Gatsby to General Zaroff, kinda, uh, basically. That’s a huge shift, compared to the multiple shifts I’ve gone through for the past few decades. You can’t really expect me to not be homesick of an old home, can you?”

Erik leaned into Karmel’s touch; he understood. “I suppose not.”

“E-Exactly, I’m a- I’m a bitchy kid, a privileged, rich, white guy who’s been handed everything and everything good on a silver platter since birth. I even had my shoes shined when I was a baby. I sound hella spoiled for missing that, so, like...I’m sorry.” Karmel shrugged.

“It’s alright, Karmel,” Erik whispered, taking Karmel’s hand in his own. “I’m just glad you’ve been enjoying this life so far.”

“I’m all over it.” Karmel agreed, that typical yet excited puppy-dog look on his face. “Anyway-” he cleared his throat, returning to the moment at hand. Slowly he began to dance with Erik once more. “City of stars, just one thing everybody wants,” Karmel chirped, pointing two fingers at Erik’s celestial eyes. “There in the bars, and through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants. It’s love, yes, all we’re looking for is love from someone else,” he and Erik spun around the room, features softening down when they were in each others’ gaze.

Erik’s heart beat pitter-pattered down to a calm pace, being as he had the one thing that calmed him down, right here in his arms.

“A rush,” Karmel raised his eyebrows, “a glance,” he shyly glanced down, still not being able to handle Erik’s gaze for too long. Similarly to when he first met the man. “A touch,” Karmel’s fingers grazed Erik’s shoulder, followed by spinning Erik as he sang “a dance.”

“A look in somebody’s eyes, to light up the skies” Karmel looked up at the roof, which the sky hid, just above. He was sure that when Erik was born, a piece of the sky was taken, broken in half, and stored in his lovely eyes. Karmel wouldn’t take anything else for an answer; nothing else was a logical enough of an explanation to explain why Erik’s eyes were as ethereal as they were.

Deep, moody sometimes, clouded with the darkest of storm clouds when he was upset. But on the off-chance of Erik being in a good mood, his eyes showed it more than any feature on his body, Karmel knew this. They’d shine like the finest rhinestones, set perfectly into their sockets. One glance from Erik alone could tell a thousand stories that even the most articulate of authors could go out of business- in the same vein, Karmel feels that if he was to write about Erik’s eyes, it’d be a book series’ worth of run-on sentences. Erik’s eyes are one of his, if not than just his, most striking features. So very blue, that even the seas surrounding Genosha couldn’t compare, not in a million years or a billion universes. Erik’s eyes are more easy to get lost in than any maze or labyrinth imaginable, no matter how far and wide it could be. Erik’s eyes are the seventh wonder of the world, something to get prominently lost in the pages of history books. His eyes are something that should be seen by everyone, but Karmel rightfully wants the gift of seeing them all to himself. They give him such a high that weed has never given him, they’re his light, his map, his compass, he could make an altar for them and praise at it everyday, begging for salvation. 

Karmel clearly had a lot to say about Erik’s eyes. But to Erik’s face, he’d never say it. “To open the world and send it reeling. A voice that says ‘I’ll be here, and you’ll be alright’.”

“You’re the voice? Don’t deny it.” Erik muttered, shaking his head.

Karmel nodded proudly. ”I don’t care if I know, just where I will go, ‘cause all that I need’s this crazy feeling. A rat-tat-tat on my heart,” he crooned, tapping his finger on the left side of Erik’s chest, where his heart lay underneath. Karmel took Erik’s hand and dipped him smoothly, repeating his earlier chorus of this ballad about his beauty: Erik. “A glance,” he glanced away, “a dance.”

Erik pulled Karmel closely in his grip, never ever wanting to let go whenever he did. He’s had many opportunities in the past to be greedy about whatever he’s ever wanted, but he’s never been more greedy about anything except Karmel. This was something proven to be quite hard to do. 

Karmel’s from a long line of aristrocrats, the Rosenstein name being spoken of almost as much as any famous Tinseltown celebrity. Someone as rich and famous as a Rosenstein heir- especially one like Karmel- is hard to keep all to yourself. It’s like guarding a museum artifact, basically: sure, you have it protected in a glass case. But it’s a museum artifact, people are obviously going to look at it, talk about it, read about it, and know it exists. Erik is Karmel’s protective glass case, and the museum visitors are anybody in the world who know of the Rosenstein name.

In recent years, Erik know’s its been easier to be greedy over Karmel. Safe on their remote island filled with mutants, Grimm kicking it in the Rosenstein estate back on America’s mainland.

Karmel repeated the earlier verse following the first chorus, tapping Erik’s heart when that line came to once more. He sighed silently, exploring Erik’s facial features as if it’d be his last time to do so. “City of stars, are you shining just for me?” Karmel smiled expectantly. “City of stars...you never shined so brightly.”

Erik giggled, looking down for a moment.

Karmel’s and Erik’s dance slowed to a stop, their synchronized breaths filling the silence in the air. “Well?”

“Well...” Erik met Karmel’s eyes. “You really did waste your talent away in that library, Karmel.”

“Oh, come on!” Karmel exclaimed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Karmel-” Erik laughed, kissing his nose. “The song was wonderful, Karmel.”

“Oh, so fuck the dance, huh?” Karmel joked.

“Karmel-”

“I’m joking” Karmel grinned. “I’m glad you like it...I love you.”

“I love you too, Karmel. ‘Til the end of time, remember?”

Karmel nodded obediently, spinning the ring on his left hand. “Even then, Erik, you’ll still be mine.”

[shhawnboi]

Dad’s Approval | Connor Brashier

Summary: Your dad hates Connor so much that even he starts questioning himself and it’s your job to remind him why he can’t be more wrong.

Word Account: 2K

A/N: This is my first imagine ever, so sorry if it’s to cringey and disappointing. Also, English it’s not my first language, excuse my poor vocabulary and grammar and please tell me major mistakes to correct them.  

                                                          *  *  *  *

Y/D/N Y/L/N, your father, is Connor’s second worst nightmare, the first one being losing you. Mister Y/L/N is the boss of the biggest lawyer’s firm on LA, he is feared and respected everywhere because he has enough power to bring everyone he wants down, and that includes Connor, luckily this hasn’t happened to him, yet.

Your dad adores you. You are his pride and joy he just wants the best for you and he thinks that Connor, a simple boy with a camera, will never be enough, so he takes every chance he gets to remind you both, that. You don’t care about you dad’s nagging words but Connor does because he can’t help but agreeing with him. You deserve better than him and he is a selfish jerk for keeping you all to himself, but he can’t bear the idea of letting you go.

Last Monday your dad called to invite you two for dinner at his favorite restaurant ‘Saint Japher’, a place designed for the upper class with menus that just a few of privileged people can afford, and in that group of people Connor isn’t included. Your father does every other time for two main reasons: to see if you are still together and to drag Connor’s confidence down (task that he has always accomplished successfully). Connor has always tried to win your dad’s favor but to Y/D/N’s eyes, Connor was just a kid who plays with a camera and think that’s a job.

When Connor wakes up, the first thing he sees is your beautiful figure cuddled against his right side. Your body is covered by just his shirt and nothing more, and it makes him feel all cozy inside because it means that all of you is his. You are completely knocked out, it’s a normal occurrence whenever you see your father, he never fails on getting on your nerves and tiring you to death, especially when he starts throwing knives at Connor like there’s no tomorrow. Connor gives you a light kiss on your forehead and decides to go out for a run, he needs it to clear his mind a little. When he steps out of bed you start moving on your sleep but you don’t get up. He tries not to make too much noise while he’s getting dressed and when he is finally out of the house, he lets a long exhale escape from his lips. Con knows that he shouldn’t give a fuck about what your dad thinks about him but he does because he agrees with your father, you deserve better.  

By the time Connor starts running following the peace of some catchy pop song, every snarky word your dad said yesterday comes to his mind, crashing him with the force of wave colliding against the rocks.

“Do you remember Thomas Lebrant, darling?” asked you father while he was looking at the menu.

“Yes dad, I remember Tom.” of course you did remember Tom, you dated him for a year... before you left him for Connor.

“I saw him him the other day, he’s doing great at medical school, he will have a bright future, he’s a very hard-working man, he asked me about you. I really think he was your perfect match.”  

Connor remembered Thomas too, your first boyfriend, he was the guy every father wanted for his daughter: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect behavior... he was just perfect. You started dating him when you were seventeen and spent a whole year with him, but when you met Connor you started to feel things you had never felt before and you had to break up.  

Con will never forget the day he saw you for the first time. It was a sunny day in LA, he was at the beach with Sam doing a photoshoot with an Instagram model called Lydia Hanni, she was laying on the hot sand and he was supposed to be taking photos of her body, but he couldn’t focus his camera on her, he was too busy filming the beautiful girl playing frisbee with her friends. When you noticed a pair of eyes on you, you turned around and saw Connor with his camera. He waved his hand to say ‘hi’ and you smiled, at that moment Connor swears he felt his whole world stop. That was the beginning of your love story and your dad’s worst headache ever.

“Good for him, dad. I guess you told him that I’m doing pretty good with Uni and my lovely boyfriend.” you reached for Connor’s hand and you pressed a little kiss on it. Your father let out a sigh and Connor smiled at you. You had the power to make everything better.

“I told him you had a little adventure with some guy.”

‘A two years adventure’ thought Connor.

At first he thought that her dad needed time to warm up to him, but time passed and he didn’t change his mindset. He hoped that when he started working for Shawn your dad would be happy, but that didn’t occur, in fact, he got pissed because he was going with his friends to have fun in Europe leaving you alone. Nothing he does it’s good for your dad and that’s eating him alive. He tries to ignore it but it gets harder every single day.  

“Have you found a real job yet?”

“My friend is looking for a coffee guy for his office, I could call him if you are interested?”

“How much has your boss payed you for your hobby? I mean, it’s not a very hard task.”

“Did you have fun on tour? Doing nothing playing with your friends?”

He loves his job and he’s proud of it but he is starting to believe that it’s not enough for you. Your father is right, you are worth of a rich, wealthy man that can give you all you want in matter of minutes. You always say that he’s the best that has ever happened to you, but now he thinks you say that because he’s keeping you away from greater things that you’ll never discover if you’re with him.

When he arrives home after an hour of running, he goes straight to the shower, maybe that’s what he needs to clear his mind for good. Once the hot water hits his muscles, he lets a satisfied moan, a hot shower never fails to relax him.

You wake up the moment you hear the water running from the bathroom, you guess that’s Connor having a morning shower but once you notice his sport clothes scattered across the bedroom floor, you know he’s probably gone out to clear his mind a little. You can’t blame him though, the shitshow your dad pulled yesterday at the restaurant was capable to put everyone on the edge of their sanity. You have talked nearly a billion times with your dad about his behavior with your boyfriend but he always ignores it. You’re sick of it because Connor doesn’t deserve an ounce of the shit your father aims at him, no one really deserves it to be honest. Your boyfriend is the best that has ever happened to you and you’re so proud and in love with him that whenever your dad opens his big mouth, your heart breaks a little.

You decide to get out of bed and get into the shower with him to show him some love. You get rid of your shirt when you enter the bathroom. Connor hasn’t realized yet that you’re there and very much awake so you got him by surprise when you stepped into the shower.

Everything in you is alluring and lovely to Connor’s eyes and your body is no exception. He loved and praised every inch of it, it’s his temple, the place where all his problems disappear. He was completely addicted to it, therefore when you decide to enter the shower, his first instinct is to pull your naked body closer to his.

“Hi, love.” this pet-name always sends shivers down your spine and makes you smile like an idiot “How are you?” you were both under the hot stream of water, nose and foreheads touching and eyes closed.

“That’s what I should be asking, handsome.” you whisper as you kiss him delicately, like you’re afraid of breaking him.  

“I’ve been better.” he confesses with a forced smile. He doesn’t want you to worry about him but you know too well that grimace on his face and the dull look on his beautiful eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my dad, I can’t believe what an asshole he can be.” you’re really ashamed by your father, he never respects your decisions or opinions, each time he tries to impose his no matter what.  

“You don’t have to excuse him, I mean, he’s not wrong.” he looks away because he knows that if he sees your breathtaking eyes, he’ll break down in matter of seconds.

“What do you mean he’s not wrong, Con?” you hold his face between your hands and you make him look at you.

“He’s right about me.” he says heartbroken.

“No, he’s not, baby.” you try to reason with him but he doesn’t take it and watching him so sad is destroying you.

“C’mon Y/N, he’s right. You are this beautiful, kind, smart and amazing woman and I’m a kid with a camera. All your life you’ve been surrounded by the most incredible things on Earth, your dad could give you all you wanted. I’ll never be able to do that, I can’t take you to Bali every month, I can’t pay your studies... You know who could? Thomas, he was perfect for you and I took you away, if you were with him, I bet you’d be happier becau...” you smack his chest before he can finish his ridiculous speech, now you’re pissed and frustrated, he can’t be saying all of that, can he?

“I swear to god, Connor David Brashier, that if you say something like all the bullshit you have just said, I’ll kick you out of the house until your two remaining brain cells realize how utterly stupid you are.”

“Bab...” he tries to interrupt you but you shut him off before he can argue back.

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me, idiot. Connor, I love you, more than anything, you’re my world. Listen, maybe my dad has always given me whatever the hell I wanted, do you know the price? He was never there for me, I was left alone 24/7, on my birthdays, recitals, competitions, even in my own graduation, he showered me with gifts but not love. And Tom, he was a nice guy, he treated me right and all of that, always so perfect, it was boring as fuck: we never stayed three days in a row at home doing nothing besides fucking and eating, he never surprised me with 3 AM dates at the beach or with little getaways at Target... Tom was just there but he didn’t make me feel anything, not the way you do. I want you. You’re the best part of my life and I can’t imagine a future without you. I don’t care about monthly travels to Bali, I care about months just by your side. I love you Connor, you’re perfect.”

Once you finish your monologue, you notice he’s crying. You clean his tears with your soft fingers and he kisses you passionately against the shower wall.

“I love you, Y/N” he embraces you strongly, afraid that if he loosens his grip, you’ll disappear.  

“I love you Connor, let me show you.” you kneel down and that’s the only thing Connor needs to know that he’s in for a very long morning and he’s so ready for it.

                                                       * * * * 

I hope you all have enjoyed it. Please like, comment or repost if you liked it. Right now, I’m working on a long Shawn Mendes fic, tell me if you’d like to read it.

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Do you have to (let it linger)?

In this chapter: We meet Isobel Bracken's brother a few years before the present. In the present, Jesse Manes is inadvertently helpful and Alex broadens his list of suspects.

A/n: As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter and @ladymajavader over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading, and my new cheerleader May (@merlinss). I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

The title of last chapter hasn't been guessed yet, so you can still give it a go!

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4

January, 1933

In the month that construction of the longest and tallest suspension bridge began in San Francisco, a small announcement appeared in the local New Mexican paper.

Oil Mogul Noah Bracken (33) and long-time girlfriend Isobel Evans (25) announce their engagement Noah Bracken, the youngest man ever to reach a net worth of $1 billion, and his long-time girlfriend, major event planner Isobel Evans, have today announced their engagement to this newspaper. “We are beyond happy and ask you to respect our privacy in this wonderful time,” the couple announced from their San Franciscan estate. “It will be the greatest event I’ll ever have planned,” adds the future Mrs Bracken with a wink. The editors of this newspaper wish them all the happiness in the world.

This news was not received well by everyone. The bride’s brother, for one. A recent addition to the sheriff’s department, he had read everything about the Rosa Ortecho case. 13 years later, the case was still cold as ice. He’d recognized the young immigrant that had been the one and only suspect back in the day as the man his twin sister was dating. But before he could reach out and warn his sister, she’d gotten engaged. Any objections he voiced now would make him sound like a possessive brother.

He tried to assuage himself; aside from the fight, there was absolutely no evidence that Noah Bracken had killed the Ortecho girl. And yet he couldn’t shake this feeling…

Max Evans threw the paper down on the table and put on his hat.

If his sister’s soon-to-be-husband was a dangerous killer, he was going to find out. And his sister would be kept out of danger, for as long as possible.

Present day, 21st of October, 1935

“Bring in Max Evans, please,” Alex requested of the young conductor they brought in from one of the other carriages. Alex could really only trust people who had not been on the Paris carriage, so he’d had his father bring over some staff from the other carriages.

Every time he looked at the conductor assigned to help him out, however, he was secretly disappointed it wasn’t Michael. This man was older, shorter and the uniform was not nearly as attractive on him as it was on Michael.

After their less-than-professional meeting in the luggage carriage, Michael had disappeared, only showing his face when people needed something. Alex was afraid he regretted the way the two of them lost control, especially with Jesse Manes crawling around.

So Alex threw himself into the case with more vigour. He didn’t want to think about Michael, because he was already discounting him as a subject on the basis of nothing, and that was dangerous. Personal feelings in his line of work was dangerous and led to murderers walking free.

Max entered the dining carriage. The man was almost inhumanly tall, Alex guessed about 6 feet, and was very muscular. Alex glanced at Kyle’s summary of the stab wounds; Max could’ve easily made the deeper, more smooth incisions. Only a person of great strength would’ve been able to make those. “You wanted to see me, Detective Manes?”

“Yes, please sit down. If you have you identification papers on you, please put them on the table.” Max placed his papers in front of Alex, and the latter inspected them closely. “Maxwell Evans, 27 years old. Current resident of Roswell, New Mexico?”

“Affirmative.”

“And where are you currently employed, Mr Evans?”

“The Sheriff’s department. For about two years now.”

“A fellow detective.” Alex smiled as he handed back the papers and wrote down the general information. “Then you know I’ll have to ask some questions, regardless of your guilt or innocence in this case.”

Max bowed his head. “I understand. You may ask your questions.”

“Where were you at around 3AM?”

“Asleep in my bunk.”

“Alone?”

Max flashed a smile. “Sadly, yes.” Not much of an alibi.

“What are you doing aboard this train, Mr Evans?”

“I was looking for some family. I lost touch with most of them after I moved to New Mexico early in my youth, and I was hoping to find some in Istanbul. Sadly, I haven’t found any.” Max gave another smile, but his eyes betrayed sadness. “Now I’m heading back Stateside.”

“Did you know Rosa Ortecho?”

Max Evans sat back, looking surprised. “Well, the murder happened in Roswell, so I heard about it when I first joined the department, but no, I did not know her personally. Why do you ask?”

Alex closed his book and sat back, studying Max Evans’ face closer. For some reason the features seemed familiar, though he couldn’t place it. He’d left Roswell years before, so he couldn’t have met him. And yet something in the back of his mind tried to draw his attention, remaining just out of reach. “There are signs this murder is connected to the Rosa Ortecho murder. It’s unclear how or why, but the evidence seems to support it.”

Max’ eyebrows shot upwards and sat back, whistling softly. “Wow. That’s intense. Well, I never knew about the murder until after I joined the force. I didn’t know Mr Bracken until I met him on this train tonight.”

For some reason, Alex felt deeply uncomfortable as Max said that. His leg started bouncing up and down and his stomach roiled. Max Evans was lying. But why and about what? “Alright, Mr Evans, that’s it for now. Please return to your cabin.”

“Wait.”

Both Max and Alex turned around to see Jesse Manes, who had been skulking in a corner, sit up straight and look intensely at Max. “What?” Alex asked, just barely civil.

“Mr. Evans, how do you know Isobel Bracken?”

Alex looked at Max just in time to see a flash of fear pass over his face. “Mr. Evans?”

“I don’t – ” he began, but Jesse Manes cut him off. “Alexander, you do know Isobel Bracken’s maiden name is Evans?”

Alex did not. He looked at Max Evans accusatorily. “Mr. Evans. The truth, please.”

Max put his head in his hands for a moment, then sat up straight. “Fine. Isobel is my twin sister.”

It clicked in Alex’s head immediately. The features were familiar because he looked a lot like Isobel. He chided himself on not putting it together himself. You call yourself observational? “Which makes Noah Bracken your brother-in-law.” Max nodded. “Why did you lie, Mr. Evans?”

“Because my connection to Isobel and Noah would make me a suspect!” Max ejaculated roughly, running his hands through his hair. “It’s common knowledge Noah and I did not get along, and I thought making sure I wasn’t a suspect would at least give Isobel some peace of mind. Her husband was just murdered, Mr. Manes.”

“I’m aware,” Alex said coolly, writing down the statement and underlining the connection Max had to the victim. It still didn’t make him the culprit, but as Max said, it did make him a suspect. “You said it was common knowledge that you did not get along with Noah Bracken?”

“Yeah, it was pretty widely reported. I’m surprised you didn’t see. A few months after my sister got married, I got wind of him hitting her. I lost my control completely and picked a fight with him in the middle of a busy street in New York. Noah being who he is, it was front page news.” Max scoffed. “It was never proven that he did hit her, and Isobel denied it, but yeah, after that, Noah and I stayed out of each other’s way as much as possible.”

Motive, Alex penned down in his notebook. If Noah Bracken really hit his wife, her twin brother had more motive than most to want Noah out of her life. Expect maybe Isobel herself. His father’s initial accusation may have some merit to it after all.

“Please, Isobel didn’t do this,” Max pleaded, looking earnestly into Alex eyes. “She’s been through so much and just because I was reckless and have anger issues, doesn’t mean she does too. I got the volatile genes in this family.”

Alex looked steadily back at Max. “You just gave me a motive for both you and Isobel to want Noah Bracken gone. I have to pursue it. If it turns out Isobel is innocent, that will come out soon enough.”

Max sighed, looking absolutely miserable. “I understand. I’m sorry for lying, I was just trying to protect my sister.”

Alex nodded. “Is there anything else you may have been lying about? Your alibi, perhaps?”

Max snorted. “Well, it might as well come out. I was in my cabin, but I was not alone. I was talking to Beth Otto. We met on the train and really hit it off, we were talking until around 4AM. I returned to my cabin a little after that time. I lied because she doesn’t want her dad to know.”

That meant someone was awake at the time of the murder. “Did you see or hear anything at around 3AM?” Alex said, eagerly.

Max shook his head. “I’m sorry Mr. Manes, I was thoroughly engaged with Ms. Otto. She has fascinating ideas about the future, she’s a genius. It’s a damn shame that women of her descent aren’t admitted to college yet.”

Alex nodded, but had no time to discuss the prevailing overtones of racism and sexism in America, no matter how much he wanted to. “Should you think of anything at all, don’t hesitate to look me up, Mr Evans. That is all.”

Damn it all to hell, Alex thought darkly, sitting back and watching Max Evans disappear. The net was closing around Isobel and yet something didn’t seem right.

The wounds didn’t add up. And neither did the connection to the Ortecho case. Was it just coincidence? Or a way to cover up the true motive? Alex had never encountered such a complex case before in his life. The world is made up of logic, he always said, but logic was precisely the thing missing in this case. All the facts contradicted each other. Nothing added up.

“Well, he seems trustworthy enough,” Jesse Manes said flippantly. “But that Isobel…in cases of murder, the spouse is always the suspect.”

Alex sat up with a snap, his father’s snap judgements needling him more and more. “Why? Because Max is white and male? That doesn’t exclude him from being a suspect, dad! Everyone is a suspect! And now we have two people with flimsy alibis and great motives! Yet none of it adds up at all to the Rosa Ortecho murder! Nothing adds up and we have no time!”

Jesse Manes looked outraged, his face slowly turning red, always a danger-sign. “Listen, young man – ”

“Oh, don’t ‘young man’ me, father! The revelation about Max and Isobel’s relation aside, you have added nothing but insults and judgements to this case. Unless you have something real to contribute, stay the hell out of my way!”

His voice shaking with an old fear he had refused to feel all week, Alex pushed past his father, who seemed to have been struck dumb by Alex’s outburst, and exited the dining carriage. He promptly bumped into Michael, who was standing just outside, his hand outstretched as if to knock. “Oh. Michael.” A sense of calm immediately stole over Alex and he felt his shoulders relax slightly.

“Hi,” Michael said, looking slightly off-put. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just…my father.” Michael nodded, but looked strangely distant as he did so.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said, in a tone that said there was no room for improprieties now. Alex felt a faint twinge of pain in his heart but allowed Michael to keep his distance. Things had been so wild and confusing these last few days, he could hardly blame him for coming to his senses.

“Yes. Can you tell me if you saw or heard anyone outside the cabins as you were tending to Mrs DeLuca?”

Michael looked pensive for a second, then shook his head. “No. No, it was as I said. Around 4AM, Mrs DeLuca asked for some water. I went to fetch it, returned and was back in my cabin no later than 10 past.”

Alex froze. And yet Max just admitted to leaving Beth Otto’s cabin after 4, too.  Michael’s story was starting to show holes. Alex’s heart sank as the horrifying reality of his situation dawned on him. Michael might just turn out to be guilty before all this was said and done.

Alex never had trouble revealing the guilty party after he was certain they had committed the crime. That was his job, and he was good at it. But he had never been in the position of having to deal with a suspect that he cared as much as about as he cared about Michael.

Shockingly, a part of his brain wondered if Alex couldn’t just…let it go, should Michael prove the guilty party.

He closed his eyes briefly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to separate his feelings from the case.

It might be his undoing.

“Michael, can you fetch me Dr Kyle? I need to see him.”

Michael nodded once, and his face remaining completely neutral, turned around and left. Alex remained behind in the hallway, feeling increasingly uncertain about this entire case.

“You wished to see me?” Alex looked up to see Kyle standing in front of him, smiling politely.

“Yes, doctor, please follow me.”

They went back into the dining carriage. Jesse Manes was still there, but he got up and left the carriage without a further word as Kyle and Alex sat down. “Do you have identification on you, sir?” Alex asked, and Kyle supplied it. “Kyle Vale, 25 years old, former resident of New York, owner of a work permit for France. Occupation: doctor.”

“Yes, but born and raised Spaniard, sir. My parents left Spain after the war, despite our neutrality we felt it was best to use this opportunity to start over. We weren’t very rich, you see.”

“’Vale’?”

Dr Vale chuckled. “My parents’ little joke. We hail from the city of Valencia, you see. We had a dreadfully long Spanish last name, so they figured it was best to change it. America being what it is.”

Alex nodded, writing it all down. His leg was bouncing again. “And where were you at 3AM?”

“Asleep in my bunk,” Kyle answered easily, and Alex’s leg stilled. “I have a habit of sleeping horridly, you see, so I’d taken some sleeping medicine after we left the DeLuca’s cabin and did not wake until Mrs Bracken screamed bloody murder – I mean…” Kyle turned red. “That was insensitive. It was, of course, a bloody murder. Merely an expression.”

Alex nodded. His leg seemed indecisive; every time the nervous energy took hold, it seemed to disappear again. Alex had always had a good sense when people were lying to him. But it was difficult to tell with Kyle. “So you did not wake the entire night?” he asked.

“No,” the other man said decisively.

“What can you tell me about the Rosa Ortecho case?”

Kyle frowned deeply, thinking a moment before answering. “Wasn’t that the murder case fifteen years ago? In New Mexico? Little girl went missing then turned up dead two weeks later, yes?” Alex simply nodded. “Alex, surely you don’t think this has any connection…?”

“I do,” Alex said simply.

Kyle let out a disbelieving laugh, which died away quickly at the look on Alex’s face. “I swear, I know no more than the rest of America! Only what I read in the papers! Girl goes missing, turns up dead, case goes cold!” He sounded genuinely affronted. “You don’t think that any of us – ?”

“No, I think – rather, I know, Noah Bracken was the kidnapper and eventual murderer of Rosa Ortecho.”

Kyle stared for a long moment, then let out another disbelieving laugh. “That’s…insane!”

“And yet, I believe it to be true. When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Kyle muttered, almost as an afterthought. “What a turn of events, eh?”

“Quite,” Alex said, keeping his eyes focused on Kyle’s face as it went through several emotions at once. Fear and amazement were the two that Alex recognized. It still did not give him any solid information, yet he wrote it down. “And have you given anymore thought to the nature of the stab wounds?”

Kyle sat back down, relaxing only slightly. His shoulders were still set, as if he was still expecting Alex to start pointing fingers randomly. “I’ve been trying to remember everything I was ever taught in med school about murders, but if you hadn’t chosen forensic science as your major, you were only taught the bare minimum, like liver temperature and vivisection. Nothing about murder, and definitely not about the psychology of stabbing a person!” Kyle ran his hand through his hair, messing it up even further. In the past day, Alex had started to notice the first sign of stress on everyone’s face. Kyle hadn’t brushed his hair since this all started, Beth had been frowning a lot and Michael…well, Michael seemed to be torn between avoiding Alex and wanting to keep an eye on him.

Nearly 24 hours, and a murderer was still amongst them, Alex not being a single step closer to finding out who it was.

“Thank you, Dr Vale, that’ll be all.”

Kyle left the carriage and Alex remained behind once more, staring at his notes. Only Isobel and Max have motives, Alex mused, but those are very shaky at best. Michael’s alibi is equally shaky, unable to be verified by anyone.

Alex stared at the facts about the state the body was found in, feeling a distant part of his brain tugging at his attention once more. He was missing something, something huge, but right now, he couldn’t put a finger to it. He snapped his book shut with a frustrated sigh and left the dining carriage. He needed a change of scenery, and he knew just where to get it.