#that devil suit is freaking ridiculous haha

[kuriusagiart]

Meow.

[epic-potato-crisp]

Wireless (AjinWeek2020/6)

Day 6: Favorite AU! / Dotard + Call of Duty

By @ryokasmagic

Note:  AU in which Satou is a Pro-Gamer.

…………

* Sam_The_Gaming_Man has started his first stream on Twitch! *

“Hello everyone, and good day from Tokyo!” The older man greets the audience with a bright smile, throwing up a peace-sign. He’s wearing a cap that’s covering parts of his face, but no-one can miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“First, I want to thank my over 1 million subscribers for making this possible by always watching my Let’s Plays- You guys are the real champions! Welcome to my debut stream!”

He tips his hat. “This whole social media landscape, if I may be honest with you guys, is quite the challenge for an old geezer like me. That’s why I have Oliver over here helping me out. Thank you, Oliver!”

Someone waves a walking stick in greeting in the background.

“And thank you to Terry and Garry, who carried all my equipment up here, and helped him install it.” He gestures around himself. “Here, you can see my entire setup!”

A photo briefly fades into the right corner of the stream, showing a desktop with two large monitors, a tower case standing at the bottom, a keyboard flashing in red, gaming mouse and various other electronics. “4 TB of storage and the best CPU on the market, according to Oliver!” He holds up his hands in resignation: “Please do not ask me for the details, I have long since given up on that particular aspect. I’m here for the game and the game only! As they say, I’m going in for the kill.” He chuckles.

A taller man appears in the background. “Eh- Sato- eh, Sam-san?” a voice asks uncertainly.

“Oh, Ted!” Sam beckons him closer in a gleeful voice, “Ted my man! Come here, come here! Say hello to our audience!”

Ted inches forward. He’s of above average height, his black hair is long and shaggy under a grey basecap, and he’s wearing a red sports-jacket. He also looks like he very much doesn’t want to be here.

“I’ve brought your refreshment.” Ted says, holding out a large glass filled with tea, ice-cubes, lemon, a straw and even a little turquoise umbrella on top.

“Ted, please, take a seat!” Sam insists and finally Ted does, sitting down on the stool next to him and hands him the glass, which he gratefully accepts.

“Thank you so much!”

Sam takes a large sip. Closing his eyes, he tilts back his head and lets out a content sigh. “Just what I need before a long streaming session. Ted, you really are an angel!”

Ted avoids looking at the camera. There’s a faint blush on his face.

“Can I go now, Sat- eh, Sam-san?”

Sam laughs, amicably patting his back. “Ahh, Ted always the shy one. Go on, I won’t keep you.”

Ted bows, mumbles his thanks and disappears in a flash.

“Where were we, where were we….” Sam studies the screen, “Right, today we will be tackling a very retro game, made possible by Oliver and his friend, the emulator. Super Mario Brothers, originally published for the NES! Haha, what a joy to go back to my roots!”

Sam takes another sip of his drink. “Mmm, delicious. On this note, a big thank you to my sponsors Nekozawa Tech! They have also gifted me this beautiful headset!”

He points to his face. The headset in question shines in a cardinal red, with cat-ears adorning the top.

“See, these can even be lighted up!” Sam explains, as he demonstrates, “It makes me feel right as though I bathed in the fountain of immortal youth!” He winks into the camera.

“And of course, it wouldn’t be complete without a high-quality microphone.” He continues, lovingly patting the device in front of him. “If this has wakened your gaming spirit, click on the link in my description and get 40% of your next Nekozawa Tech order with the code EmperorSam! And now, back to the game!”

He rubs his hands, smirking.

“I do hope I won’t regret my boastful words the second I start World 1, but if you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I’m quite the pro at this game in particular. So, in order to keep this whole stream a little more interesting and personal, feel free to ask any burning questions you may have. Terry and Gerry over here are monitoring the feed and will pick the most exquisite ones for when I pass a level! Right, you two?”

“Back to business, baby!” a cheery voice shouts.

Sam nods. “That’s what I love to hear. Ah, and now, to no longer keep you- let the Games begin!”

….

Sam breezes through the first two worlds in record-time, audibly having a blast while doing so.

Apparently, so is his audience. His viewer count has tripled by the time they reach World 4.

“Sam, ready for some questions?” a voice asks in the background.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Terry!” Sam flashes a confident grin at the camera, stretching and tilting his neck from one side to the next, until it gives a satisfying crack.

“telomere_freak wants to know: “Don’t you think Sam_The_Gaming_Man sounds a little too peaceful for someone of your caliber? How about killer_grandpa_606 or murderous_maniac_xoxo.”

Sam laughs heartily in response. “What a great first question to start of the round! You have a point, telomere_freak, my bloodthirsty nature – in games, of course, only- “yet again, he winks at the camera, “is not as subtle as I believed. I’m quite content with my name, however I do want to honour such a creative suggestion.” He spins around in his chair.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Can you add: “Killer_Grandpa_xoxo” to my twitter bio?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Wonderful! Thank you again, telomere_freak for your question. Do we have any others, Gary?”

“We have one here from yuuandai.” A second voice announces in the background. Someone, presumably Terry, cracks up with laughter.

“Guys, seriously? I see what you did there, but that’s so freaking lame!”

Gary clears his throat. “Yuuandai wants to know: “What was your occupation before becoming a pro-gamer?”

“Quite the serious one here.” Sam muses, taking down his headset for a moment. “Well, I won’t disclose too many personal details, but I can say I dabbled in International Trade before deciding to retire at my desktop. It might be difficult to imagine me all fancy in a business suit, but back then, it payed the bills. And it taught a lot about strategy at the same time.”

He puts his headset back on. “And now, let’s get ready for some entertainment!”

……

World 4 is destroyed in an almost ridiculous amount of time.

“I’d really feel sorry for these turtles.” he comments, “If they weren’t such fun to jump on!”

Unexpectedly, World 5 proves to be more difficult than Sam had anticipated.

His good mood doesn’t drop in the slightest. On the contrary, it seems have been heightened.

“What a rollercoaster!” Sam calls out in exhilaration, pausing the game after yet another death, “That’s an enemy how I like them- difficult to predict, difficult to conquer. Alas, I will take a short break. Terry, if you please?”

“kurochan100 wants to know: Will you be joining us for the Call of Duty Tournament next weekend?”

“What a question, of course! That’s something that even early stage dementia won’t let me forget.” Sam laughs, “Just a joke, folks.” He smirks. “My old brain works a little better than Ted would like it to sometimes.”

As if on cue, the taller man appears behind him: “Sat-, eh, Sam-san. Your medication.” He fidgets, pill box in hand.

“Ted, you’re truly an angel! Don’t stand there, sit, sit. You know my female fanbase appreciates your cameos.”

“Do they?” Ted asks quietly, fidgeting but taking a seat as expected of him.

“Why wouldn’t they? We all need a savior like Ted when your own hips become one’s mortal enemy.” Sam sighs theatrically, waggling a finger at the camera.

He then swallows medication in one go with a generous sip of iced tea.

“#tenshited is trending.” Terry calls out from the back, as #てんしてど moves up to number one of Japan’s most popular twitter topics.

“Ahahaha, is it? See Ted, the ladies just can’t enough get of you!”.

Ted mumbles something incoherent, pulling his basecap even lower.

“Wait a second though- “Sam frowns, “What user asked about the tournament again?”

“kurochan100.” Gary says.

“Wait, is it the kurochan100? Terry, check that please.”

“On it, boss. Oh, speaking of the devil: “It is me. You better have your weapons ready on Saturday.”- kurochan100.”

“Of course, it is them!” Sam chuckles, and waves into the camera.

“Shout-out to kurochan100! She’s an up-and-coming streamer, and a living legend at Call of Duty. Even Ted has experienced the joy of being crushed by her before. Haven’t you, Ted?”

“I need to leave.” Ted mumbles, and promptly disappears from sight.

“Some losses take longer to get over.” Sam comments, with a wry smirk, “Well, give her a follow on her Twitch channel, you won’t regret it! Except of course, if you’re on the opposing team!” He laughs loudly.

“Let’s continue.” he announces, turning back to the game. There’s a vengeful glint in his eyes.

“I still have a World to take over.”

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

Chat Blanc Trailer Theory

This spawned as a combination of 1) me trying to put the Chat Blanc trailer clips in order in some way that could fit in a 20-minute episode, 2) a crack theory that got way too out of hand and ended with me writing an entire episode, and 3) my desperate need to see actual character development and communication happen at some point in Miraculous. So take this episode outline that’s technically crack but probably still way more developed than whatever Chat Blanc’s actually going to be. (Under the cut because this got ridiculously long)   Featuring my inability to write angst without fluff and my absolute love of Alix

The episode starts out at the very end of an akuma battle. Sabrina’s been akumatized for reasons unrelated to the plot, Ladybug devilizes the butterfly, they say “pound it,” Chat says something like “see, that was an easy battle, I didn’t even need to use my cataclysm.” And Ladybug’s like “I still think you’re being too risky, you can’t just run into situations like that-“ but they’re cut off because they’re right next to the Agreste mansion now and they see the devilized akuma fly through the wall and inside, and Chat’s like “oh no,” and this is his house so he’s naturally even more curious and he just runs in through and window ignoring Ladybug’s calls for him to wait. She’s exasperated but her earrings are beeping, meaning she has less than a minute left, so she detransforms, very briefly talks to Tikki, and retransforms and immediately uses her lucky charm, hoping it will give her some way to find Chat Noir

Meanwhile Adrien chases it (like a little cat chasing a butterfly aww) and somehow ends up in his father’s secret basement room, he sees Gabriel monologuing about “I failed this time but it’s only a matter of time before I save you-“ but then Mayura’s pops down the elevator like “sir there’s an intruder” and Adrien doesn’t quite know what’s going on but he’s absolutely panicking. Hawkmoth, still not knowing who chat noir is, tries to somehow monologue to explain himself but as soon as Adrien recovers he’s trying to fight Hawkmoth, he yells out cataclysm but he doesn’t know what to cataclysm, Hawkmoth says out loud that Emilie’s his wife so Adrien knows and doesn’t want to murder his father, especially not before he knows the whole story, and again, he’s pretty emotionally compromised and thinking is difficult. So he’s fighting both Hawkmoth and Mayura at once with one hand and ends up being pushed upstairs and then onto the roof (because obviously Gabriel’s first priority is to protect the secret coma mom room) and then Ladybug jumps back with some banter trying to keep the conversation going with chat noir and she can tell he’s hurting but she does manage to get the basic gist of what just happened (she doesn’t get Adrien’s identity though) There’s a lot better matched of a battle, although Mayura knocks away her lucky charm and it falls off the building, but then Hawkmoth’s like “I sense strong negative emotions coming from you” to Chat Noir (who he still has no idea is Adrien) and he calls out one of his roof akumas to evilize chat noir. We don’t see where the akuma lands because the camera is pointing at a terrified looking Ladybug.

So chat’s still unused catacliysm goes off, and we’re going with the theory that he somehow desptroys the moon and causes Paris to flood, and he also starts a giant storm, and Marinette doesn’t know what’s up at all but she’s very frightened obviouslys (so it’s snowing and the strreets are very slowi;y starting to fill with water but it’s not an instant flood) and then of course her earrings start beeping again which means that she’s going to detransform any minute and she’s like “wow, I do not feel very lucky right now.” Oh also, it literally wasn’t realized at first amid the chaos and also the building cracking but the blast seems to have just destroyed Hawkmoth and Mayura. At this point, chat blanc is just sitting still looking a little feral and crazy in his eyes, and Ladybug tries to approach him but he hisses aa her and she doesn’t know what his powers are but she doesn’t have time to deal with this now, she has like ten seconds before she detransforms, so she leaps off the building into some little alleyway right as her suit fades away, and she gasps for air and she’s trying to organize her thoughts enough to talk to Tikki but she’s just stuttering (also again there’s a storm so she’s freezing). And then of course, she turns around and Alix is staring directly at her. It doesn’t even matter what the lucky charm was but Alix is holding it and she’s like “I saw you drop this so I went to go try to pick it up for you” and it’s at that point that Marinette just starts absolutely sobbing. Alix has no idea how to comfort her but she just kinda pats her back and tries not to freak out about Tikki appearing (though her eyes do go a bit wide) but eventually she’s like “ok so obviously you’re Ladybug, would you mind filling me on on the rest of what’s going on because the storm’s getting worse.” And Marinette’s like “oh crap I totally forgot about that” Also just so we’re clear, Tikki isn’t mad at Marinette at this point, she’s doing her best to calm her down because so much craziness has happened anyways.

There’s not a lot of time to go in depth (20 minute time limit and we’re about 5-7 minutes in, the 5 minutes after Marinette uses her lucky charm should actually be five minutes of run time) but Marinette confirms that she’s Ladybug, that chat noir’s been akumatized, and that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and also that she feels very lost and she has no idea what to do now, she doesn’t have a plan. And then Alix is like “cool so it’s my turn right? I have the last chance kwami, I only come in when all hope is lost.” And Marinette’s like “Future bunnix said it is your Miraculous in the future, but I haven’t given that to you yet so it’s not really yours.” And Alix is like “well then it’s about time you gave it to me.” So Marinette manages to find Master Fu nearby (possibly using aforementioned lucky charm), picks out the rabbit Miraculous, and gives it to Alix. Marinette decides she needs help from past chat noir and she needs Alix to find him so she can figure out what specific emotional vulnerabilities he may have or what powers he might have, and her kwami says that she has the power of last chance, she can time travel long distance (much further than the snake) but because she’s still a child, she can only time travel once before recharging and she’s not really going to be able to control how far back she goes very well. She also will have less control if she goes through more time loops, so retrying things over and over again is a really bad idea that could easily end up with her trapped in ancient Egypt or breaking time. So she’s going to have one shot and she needs to use it however she can and then come back with whatever information she has, while trying not to break anything in the past timeline so that she doesn’t have to go back and change that too, if at all possible. The goal is to use her powers as little as she can while she’s still figuring it out. She asks Marinette to help her come up with a more specific plan and Marinette starts figuring things out but then chat blanc jumps into the alley where they’re hiding and Marinette yells “spots on!” so she can get superpowers back and then chat, who looks way the heck more like a threat now, starts fighting with Ladybug as Alix quickly last-chances her way out of there.

So just like with Ladybug and Chat noir, Bunnix has a 5 minute timer going, so she quickly gets to an alley, detransforms, and comes out to see that school just got out. Nathaniel waves at her and she’s like “sorry can’t talk right now” and dodges away before she can be seen by herself because she knows that her past self would be immediately suspicious and she doensn’t want to start something she can’t deal with. She’s trying to figure out what day it was, she doesn’t recognize it as any specific day but it seems to only be a week or so in the past at most. Also, Alix is narrating this to her kwami as she figures things out, and she very quickly deduces that Adrien is chat noir, but her kwami warns her not to reveal anyone’s secret identities to each other. So Alix finally spots Adrien, but he immediately gets into his car with a bodyguard, and Alix doesn’t think she’d be able to break into his house very well, she needs to find a way to get a note to him.

She does the logical thing first and tries to text him but her phone’s trying to text Adrien a few days too late (it’s still on her time) and so the messages won’t go through. She has no idea how to explain the situation to anyone so she can borrow their phone without suspicion, and she’s also just not thinking completely clearly (it is her first mission afterall), but the fact that she’s hiding and there’s only so many hiding places just outside of school leads to her seeing Marinette talking to Tikki. Tikki is trying to discourage Marinette from her plan to sneak a gift into Adrien’s house as Ladybug, because she could be seen and blow her identity, but Marinette’s like “I’ll be careful, it’s fine.” So Alix, clears her throat, and Marinette jumps while Alix pretends to not have seen the kwami, and proceeds to distract Marinette with whatever contrived conversations she can come up with.

“So… Marinette…. Physics class was fun today, wasn’t it?”

“Physics class was cancelled today, you were there.”

“Oh yeah! Of course, I just meant that it was fun… that we didn’t have it… How’s your art project coming along?”

“The one that was due yesterday?”

“YEP! Haha I’m so bad at turning things in on time.”

“Alix, I’d love to talk but I really need to go-“

“Oh no is that an akuma! Nevermind it’s just a pidgeon.”

Meanwhile the bunny kwami is sneaking a note that Alix had written to Adrien/ chat noir into Marinette’s gift. Could Alix have just snuck in herself? Probably. Is she still working out how to be logical because this is her first mission? Absolutely.

Marinette finally escapes and now needs to run before Adrien gets home, but surprise, she gets just barely too late and Adrien sees her sign the gift and leave as Ladybug. He sees that the signature on the gift says Marinette and he’s like “wait a minute that must mean that-“ and Plagg’s like “please don’t say it out loud. If you don’t say it out loud I can have plausible deniability and Tikki won’t murder me.”

Cut to outside, where it’s just starting to rain, and Marinette detransforms and Tikki’s like “oh my god Marinette he totally saw you. What did I tell you? You’re going to have to give up your miraculous now, I can’t just NOT tell Master Fu that this happened.”

At the same time, Adrien opens whatever the gift is and is super happy, but then he sees the note from Alix that implies she needs to talk to him about something Chat Noir related and he’s like “oh no this sounds like an emergency” so he heads out as quickly as he can, it takes him a minute to get past Natalie but he says he just needs to pick up something he dropped outside and then runs before she can argue.

Now, Marinette’s still just outside and she’s absolutely panicking about her identity being revealed and losing Tikki, and Tikki’s not yelling anymore she’s just sad she’ll likely have to say goodbye to Marinette because Marinette’s safety comes first. (Remember, Tikki knows that Adrien is chat noir.) Marinette’s feeling hopeless and mad at herself so of course Hawkmoth, without knowing the full situation, sends out an akuma for her, and Adrien sees first Marinette, and then the butterfly from the steps.

He basically knows that Marinette is Ladybug now, and he knows it would be disastrous if she were akumatized, so without thinking he runs while transforming and cataclysms the akuma an foot away from her face.

Marinette watched him do this, so she knows he’s Adrien right now, and Tikki’s like “sure why not, now I can at least explain to Marinette why this was so bad.”

Alix (who’s still here) has been watching from the sidelines and finally decides that enough things have already been messed up that she’s going to have to find a way to undo it anyway, so she goes up to them and does her best to briefly explain the situation.

They sit down and have an actual honest talk and a little bit of time to process the reveal, and Adrien looks really sad to find out his dad is Hawkmoth, but it’s like how he was at the end of Chameleon. He’s hurting but he’s not about to be akumatized.

Plagg, on the other hand, is reeling. He’s furious with Gabriel Agreste because he always suspected that he was a terrible father, he saw what Adrien wouldn’t, and he’s so attached to Adrien, Adrien doesn’t deserve this. And Alix, who hasn’t been doing this long enough to have formed presumptions, asks if kwamis can be akumatized. They all say they don’t think so but that’s not proven.

Eventually Alix has to head back, leaving Adrien and Marinette to have some serious conversations about there dual lives. However, as soon as Alix gets back to the present, she’s stopped by future, adult Bunnix. She winks at Alix and tells her she did an amazing job on her first mission, but she already knows what happened (obviously, because it’s her), and she can’t redo it herself because of the whole issue with time travelling multiple times increasing the chances of her breaking things. Alix was afraid that she didn’t get anything useful at all but Bunnix says that she got exactly what they needed and also everyone has to have their first mission at some point. She also tells young Alix that she (older Bunnix) can handle this battle, but there’s one more job that young Alix may have to do so she should just be ready for if she gets a not from older Bunnix

There’s a brief cut back to Marinette and Adrien outside the Agreste mansion, they both seem to realize that things can’t stay this way and that Bunnix is going to somehow undo this which is so sad because things make so much more sense now, and we get our first love square kiss. This is possibly also the scene that was written to make the audience cry. I haven’t decided if it’s going to be specifically undone within the events of the episode (time limits again) but it obviously didn’t happen because otherwise the future wouldn’t be what it is.

Back in the present, future Bunnix and Ladybug are fighting a wild chat blanc and trying not to get obliterated by random storms, there’s a really heartwrenching “I know you’re in there” fight, more so because Chat blanc doesn’t seem to want to do this. It’s clearly hurting him to see Ladybug in pain but he’s just so much more feral and out of control and he doesn’t know what he’s doing or how to control himself, and he’s scared.

Future Alix says that the akuma is in chat noir’s ring (she’s like 90% sure and the doubt is killing Ladybug because what if it’s not-) but Ladybug trusts her enough to sneak the rings away from chat noir and crush it, and luckily a purple butterfly comes out, which means that her miracle cure will fix everything. She also can’t help but realize that chat noir detransformed into Adrien as soon as his ring was gone. She says “Miraculous Ladybug” and everything’s sort of back to normal? But Adrien still looks like he’s in pain and Hawkmoth’s still nowhere to be found. So Plagg appears after this and it turns out that it was his negative emotions that Hawmoth sensed, and that the akuma attached to, and the fact that Plagg was more powerful and less in control of himself lead to chat noir going crazy like that. Because Plagg’s a kwami, Hawkmoth wouldn’t have been able to mind control him or force him to give up his Miraculous, so he was just exploding with power and negative emotions instead.

There’s a second scene of Adrien and Marinette dealing with the reveal, this time with a very different tone, they’re both so much more scared, and Bunnix says that it’s okay, they don’t have to know yet, she’s not going to force them but if they want she can undo it.

And Adrien asks what the point would be then, if they just give up it’s worth nothing, why are they even Ladybug and Chat Noir if they can’t handle the endgame.

And Bunnix says that that’s completely wrong. They’re still a little kitten and minibug right now, everyone starts out small, they don’t even realize how far they’ve come. Every akuma they face, every argument they get through together, makes them so much stronger, and it’s okay if they’re not quite to the endpoint yet, they’ve already become the best at being Ladybug and Chat Noir in all of Paris because they’ve been practicing and learning. Someday they’ll be ready, progress will sneak up on them until they’re more powerful than their current selves could imagine. And even now, what matters most is that they help in the little ways that grow, by helping individuals who have been akumatized and making residents of Paris feel safer, and by keeping the miraculouses safe.

So there’s a second love square kiss as they decide that it’s okay to save this as a problem for later instead of dealing with it now, and then the episode ends at the beginning with Alix skateboarding directly into Chat Noir before he can see the butterfly and chase it, and it’s implied that Alix still knows all even if it’s been erased from everyone else’s memories, and she’s holding the watch now.

Ladybug says goodbye to Chat Noir, still in her opening argument that he needs to be more careful next time, and Chat’s like “ok, fine, if it worries you that much I’ll be more careful” and they can both see that the other is stressed so they hug and part ways.

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

The Ridley Roast

(A few of the Smashers decide to hold a “celebrity” roast for Ridley in the hopes of curbing some of his more… difficult habits. Joker approaches the stand first)

Joker: Okay, I guess I’ll go first. Ridley went into my phone, and changed the notification tone… to the “ping” of a grenade pin.

Ridley: Alertness is a full-time job!

(Eve is on the stand)

Dark Samus/Eve: He coined the term “active bitch-face”, just for me.

Ridley: And you brainwashed me. I think we’re even.

(Cloud is on the stand)

Cloud: (translated from Japanese) <Whatever I say he’ll just yell he can’t understand me.>

Ridley: I can’t understand you!

Cloud: <I am in hell and he is the devil.>

Ridley: Me no speekie Japanesie!

(Mario is on the stand)

Mario: He came to me with suggestions to make the Adventure Mode more… “cool”. I’ll-a just list them. Ridley get a leather jacket, Ridley punches a jukebox, Ridley falls asleep watching a horror movie and dreams a mad scientist has stolen his… “cool.”

Ridley: Uh-huh.

Mario: Ridley, these are just episodes of Happy Days with you as the Fonz!

Ridley: NUH-UH!

Mario: Ridley. Jumps. A shark.

Ridley: It’d be a real turning point for us! (Pichu walks up to the stand)

Ridley: Sit down, Pichu. (He promptly does so. Samus is now on the stand, clearing her throat.)

Ridley: (Huge exaggerated yawn)

Samus: …May I?

Ridley: Oh no, go ahead. That was a yawn of enthusiasm.

Samus: This is pointless. (tries to walk off, but gets sent back to the stage by the others)

Mario: Come on, Samus, we all did it.

Samus: Okay. I mean, he’s the worst part about my life.

Ridley: Aw, thank you so much! But I didn’t get you anything.

Samus: I wish him specific harm. Like a thousand years of Groundhog Day, but for a looping period of 20 seconds.

Ridley: Haha, Catch-22! Any hell without you is heaven.

Samus: You know what? I give up. My eyes were bigger than my fucks given on this one. [sigh] He won’t change. 

(walks off and returns to the audience)

Ridley: And she folds! Classic Sammy! What’s it like being a loser? Don’t answer that, I can tell just by looking at you! It’s like a pile of pure failure in a robot suit!

(Someone coughs next to Ridley. He turns to find that Kirbyhad taken the stand without anyone noticing.)

Kirby: (clears throat) Yes. (clears throat three more times) Hello.

Samus: …Hi, Kirby.

Kirby: So, uh… Ridley. Yeah, he’s really cool. And uh… (Joker whispers something to him) Oh! Stuff I don’t like. But I like Ridley! He fights with me, he has a cool tail, and he helps me barbecue things! In conclusion, Ridley is the best!

Ridley: Kirby… I didn’t expect that from you. I have to tell you…I’m so…so…so MAD! Are you serious, puffball?! You can’t even think of one thing?!

Kirby: Ahh…

Ridley: How many years have I known you? And you don’t even know the first thing about me! I know your favorite animal, What position you sleep in, why you don’t have a belly button, and I’m the mystery!? You could’ve picked a million things you’d change about me. I chew with my mouth open. On purpose! I’m afraid of Piranha Plant! I mean, heck��� I claim to be the fiercest and most sadistic fighter in the roster, but I haven’t killed anyone since I got in! Murder is all I’ve known since I was a boy, without it I’m nothing! There’s nothing solid in me to hold onto! Why wouldn’t you guys criticize me?! I’m a malformed freak! I have all your faults and more, but I ridicule them and you and tolerate them in myself! I HATE MUSHROOMS!!!(collapses as if he’d just lost a stamina match, sobbing quietly) God, I hate mushrooms… (the other Smashers slowly start to back away)

[eleventoes]

of gold and starlight | oneshot

❮ a oneshot from the all you’d never see series ❯

pairing: prosecutor!jimin x ghost!reader | fluff; also an attempt at mystery word count: 9.5k extra: [ x ] ♪: it’s you - henry warning(s): mentions of blood synopsis:

Park Jimin was known for many things—for being the district attorney’s all-time favorite with the highest successful prosecution rate around, for being the sexiest prosecutor on the 15th floor, and also for being that one guy who never grew out of having imaginary friends.

You took credit for that last one, though.

***

“Jimin, do these jeans make my ass look bigger?”

“Jimin, I’m really craving fried chicken.”

“Jimin, I need money.”

It’s funny really, how everyone else in the office still had their noses buried in the ever-growing stack of case files and settlement documents, all while you were currently half-splayed out on his desk, whining as you usually did whenever you got too bored in the afternoons. Not that anyone except Jimin could actually see the mess you were making on his desk, and that’s what made it all the more aggravating; but he has to give it to you, because there weren’t many upsides to being dead, and he’ll let you take what you can get.

“Not now, Y/N, also I’m broke as hell and you know it,” Jimin hisses through gritted teeth, eyes darting wildly around to see if anyone was paying any attention to his seemingly one-sided exchange. The rumors were bad enough as it is; if it weren’t for his work efficiency, he probably would have been fired for his odd behavior eons ago.

“But it was payday yesterday,” You were sitting up now, playing with the splinters near the edge of the mahogany table and giving him your best pout. Sure, you were acting like a brat, you knew as much, but you were half-joking anyway, because boredom does that to most people, of which included ghosts with practically all of eternity on their hands.

“It was, until you went ahead and bought that stupidly overpriced Balenciaga bag. You know, the same one you’d never get to flaunt in public because floating bags are not a thing,” His voice was up a notch now, and heads were starting to turn. Jimin chose to ignore the knowing glances, fully aware that his assisting officers were probably gearing up their chatroom to discuss his dialogue with thin air yet again. They don’t have hostile intentions; just too goddamned nosy for their own good.

Huffing despondently, you only throw him a look before lowering yourself off his desk and back onto the ground (or as close to the ground as you could possibly be; you never hovered more than a foot off the floor), nearly knocking over the stack of medical reports Jimin had sacrificed sleep for just the night prior as you throw your hands in the air dramatically, “I can’t believe you’re mocking me for being a ghost. A ghost. It wasn’t as if I chose to be dead, Jimin.”

You weren’t actually pissed off, Jimin could tell. He’d have thought that ghosts would be a lot more sensitive about, you know, not breathing, but it took him a whole month of tiptoeing on eggshells around you before you decided you couldn’t take any more of his awkward shuffling and told him you didn’t really care. Suffice to say, the playful banter hasn’t ceased since, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

That ridiculous pout was sitting atop your lips again, and it took Jimin all he had to tame the smile tugging on his. No one in the office would believe his sanity if he were to burst out laughing whilst flipping through the case file of that petty pickpocket from a week ago.

Though, you seem more than satisfied with the ghost (haha) of a smile gracing his features; Jimin was way too stressed out most of the time, and rightfully so, given the weight of his occupation, so you take it upon yourself to loosen him up. The living has to live a little, after all.

And speaking of loosening up.

Prosecutors Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi were in dire need of some serious stress relief, and Jimin almost couldn’t stand to watch the familiar glint in your eyes as you pranced gleefully over to where they were slaving away at their desks on the other side of the room, hair flinging wildly in your haste. In the past year, you’ve learnt more than the basics of law enforcement and criminal investigation. In fact, you’ve also learnt that Prosecutor Jung Hoseok was hilariously terrified of all that was supernatural despite being terrifying in court himself, and Prosecutor Min Yoongi was a lot more fun to tease than his stoic façade would let on.

Hoseok was easy, you just needed to rearrange his things a little, and that was it, that’s literally all you had to do in order to drive the poor man up the wall. He was always too immersed in his work to actually witness you swapping the placement of everything else on his desk (it was for the better; you weren’t sure if he might pass out if he saw a couple of pens levitating), and today was no different. From across the office, you hear Jimin stifling a laugh, and you think back to all the times he had chided you for freaking out his co-workers before sticking your tongue out at him like the child you were.

As per usual, Hoseok was due to scream a couple of hours later once he was done with whatever case he was handling, so you move on to Yoongi, because he was slightly trickier.

For some reason, you had a soft spot for that workaholic who seemed to never leave his workplace, opting to get his sleep in the form of hour naps during the day. Really, every single one of those prosecutors were workaholics (Park Jimin included), but everyone else agreed that Yoongi does overdo it a little. According to his assisting officer Seulgi and what you can make out of her conversation with Hani, he hasn’t taken the stick out of his ass since a year ago, though no one brings up the reason why.

But he was a righteous guy and you admired that; so you wanted to look out for him, and what better way to do that than to send his girlfriend a breakup text?

Yoongi deserved far better than a cheater anyway.

we’re over. say hi to your boyfriend for me.

Sent from Min Yoongi, 10:03am

With a decisive smirk, you hit ‘send’.

The message was barely delivered before the clattering of metal against concrete was resonating all around, and the phone was this close to slipping from your fingers as Yoongi, as well as everyone else present, scrambled to their feet, heads tilted politely towards the glass doors. Jimin sends you a wary look before angling his gaze towards the man in question—D.A. Kim Namjoon.

The district attorney was intelligent and respectable; and that was a feat in itself, because you couldn’t say the same for any other dude in his position. Nevertheless, his visits were rare and enough to put you on edge; something must be up for him to personally drop by one of the more efficient units in the building.

“As of today, Prosecutor Kim Seokjin would be joining the unit,” He announces pleasantly as his calculating gaze sweeps the room, and you release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “Yes, that’s literally all I have to say, so all of you can relax now. I’ll leave you all to the introductions.”

He takes the resounding silence as his cue to exit through the same glass doors, and now that he was gone, the attention was all on the poor guy he left to fend for himself.

Kim Seokjin.

At one glance, he would have blended in perfectly with his surroundings. A streamline and tailored suit? Check. That briefcase that every prosecutor insists on lugging around? Check. He even wore the same poker face as all the other dorks in the room. His sudden appearance shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but it just was.

There was something about those almond eyes that you couldn’t quite place, something about those soft features that you couldn’t put a finger on, and something about him you couldn’t discern.

And you make your sentiments known immediately, all but projecting yourself across the room to materialize beside Jimin, “He’s strange. That Kim Seokjin guy.”

“You’re dropping honorifics with him already? For all you know he’s probably older than you,” The asshole teases (in a light whisper, of course), but his expression turns somber when he saw that you weren’t kidding, “Strange? How so?”

“He just is. I can feel it.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re just hungry.”

“Shut up before I make a run for it with your laptop for all your co-workers to see.”

And that was the end of that, but both you and Jimin knew that you were always right; ghostly senses and all.

Kim Seokjin was strange, and you were going to find out why.

.

“Jeon Jungkook, did you leave the tap running again? I swear one of these days we’d end up bankrupt and on the streets and your mom would never let me live,” Groaning tiredly, Jimin kicks off his loafers while simultaneously reaching for the matching pair of house slippers, setting them on the ground and shoving them onto your feet before he does the same to his own.

“Ah hyung, you’re home already? Is Y/N with you?” Said devil’s spawn calls out from the kitchen, where he was making ramen, probably. Jimin only hums noncommittedly in response, giving Jungkook the affirmation that he needed, while you drape yourself over the couch. You may be a ghost, but your muscles still get sore when the going gets tough, and your (after)life was tough as hell. Honestly, you deserve a medal for all the cases you had resolved, and Jimin would agree, albeit reluctantly because he liked teasing you like that.

A strangled noise dies in Jungkook’s throat, and Jimin would have chuckled at the sheer peculiarity of the situation if he wasn’t so drained, “Ugh seriously, give me a heads up please? I’m not even wearing a shirt.”

You blink rapidly at that.

Your relationship with Jungkook was a weird one, and that was saying the least. Jungkook was that little kid that was phenomenal at everything he did, and was adored by everyone and their dog even back in Busan where he first met Jimin (next door neighbors and all). He had moved into Jimin’s bachelor apartment a few years ago in order to attend college in the city; fast forward back to the present and he was now attending grad school while doubling as Jimin’s live-in maid (Jimin, for the life of him, could not find the time to clean, and cleaning just happened to be one of Jungkook’s fortes—though anything was his forte, really).

All would be well, except for you feeling horrible for all the trauma you had to put him through every time you forgot not everyone was able to see you, and that it would be mildly frightening to have toilet paper dancing on its own and having the bed make itself.

“Hyung, we have to get out of here,” Jungkook had all but tumbled into the apartment one day, doe eyes unblinking and skin void of its usual glow, “I know you won’t believe me, but this place is haunted, I’m sure of it.”

And Park Jimin had been (and still was) a terrible liar, “Uh, I don’t see any ghosts.”

“Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?” Stupefied, you had looked to the sorry excuse of a liar, catching on to the nervous tick in his neck whenever he was at a loss and the wavering of his pupils that gave away his uncertainty.

“Well, do we just tell him?” Jimin had shot back weakly as Jungkook stared incredulously at the potted plant his housemate was seemingly having a conversation with.

“You’re talking to me while he’s just standing right there, Jimin, I don’t think we have a choice anymore.”

“You’re right.”

Disregarding the fact that Jungshook looked as if he was about to pass out any minute, Jimin only gestures between the frazzled boy and yourself (though Jungkook could only see the potted plant), “Jungkook, meet Y/N, the ghost that’s scaring you shitless. Y/N, you’ve already met Jungkook, so try not to freak him out yeah?”

Jungkook had been stunned for all of three seconds before he was confronting Jimin with just about a million questions, the first being typical of any other stupid college boy, ‘is she pretty?’, to which Jimin had stuttered a quick ‘yes you horndog’. Not that you remembered that because it had revived your nonexistent heartbeat or anything. It was nothing like that.

Then Jungkook had very rudely shoved his entire arm through your chest in his attempt at a handshake; a sensation that irked you to this very day, and that had been how Jungkook came to find out about you and your obsessive designer bag collection (he had always wondered what the hell Jimin was doing with all thirty designer purses in his room).

“Where’s Y/N? On the couch?” The question was directed at Jimin, and he tries to pretend he wasn’t bothered by how well Jungkook knew you despite not actually being able to see you, so he leaves it hanging, opting to head for a speedy shower instead.

“Y/N, I bought some chicken from that store out front on the way back, have some if you’re hungry,” If Jungkook was miffed at being brushed aside, he sure doesn’t show it, and Jimin detests how Jungkook could easily make you the happiest ghost in the world with just a simple offering of chicken.

You clamber up from the couch, eyes ablaze with excitement, “Jimin! Tell Jungkook he’s amazing and that he’s way better than you’ll ever be!”

Ouch.

“Kook, Y/N says she hates both you and the chicken,” Jimin calls out, not without regret though, because before he knew it, his shampoo was flung halfway across the apartment and you had disappeared, with his towel no less.

But even he couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyebrows scrunch up in the most adorable frown he’s ever seen; so he tells himself he’d allow himself a hint of a smile, just this one time.

I’ll get rid of these feelings soon. I promise.

Except he’d repeated the same mantra at least twenty hundred times already, and each time he only felt himself sinking deeper into the abyss that was your dulcet gaze, incandescent with the brightest of twinkles and shining with the faintest hints of starlight.

He was, in short, fucked.

.

The first time Jimin had met you had been a year ago, right as the sheets of snow had been reduced to nothing and the cold winds had ushered in warmth and color in the form of bright blossoming buds, abundant with vivacity and joy and all that was good in the world. Spring was when Jimin first met you; when you had been far too cold for it to be considered normal, and when Jimin hadn’t known any better (though these hold true even in the present).

You had crashed head first into him on the busy morning streets of Seoul, your eyes hazy and lips bloodied. It took one look at the vulnerability and fear apparent in your trembling fingers and disconcerted gaze for him to realize that he couldn’t leave you alone.

And it took one look at how literally everyone else on the sidewalk was passing through you without a second glance for him to realize that you weren’t quite human.

And then he almost died from the shock of it all.

The two of you found yourselves at an outdoors café, trying to come to terms with the revelations that had occurred in the meagre span of ten minutes.

Although, you had it a little harder than he did, with all that’s considered.

It was a rough start, but everything spiraled from there, and you fit perfectly into every aspect of his life, as if you were a puzzle piece he never knew he needed for everything to fall completely into place. You had followed him home, of course, because you hadn’t had anywhere you could have gone, not when you barely knew who you were. Within the first couple of weeks, the walls had long started to disintegrate; you were laughing more, you were starting to tease him, and you found that spark that made you who you were at present. Jimin, on the other hand, was still unable to fathom the reason behind him being able to see you, and only you, but counted his blessings regardless and had grown unbearably fond of your light laughter and your playful sarcasm (though he couldn’t say the same for the hole you were putting in his wallet).

Since you’ve pretty much established that you were bored as heck, it took less than a month for you to trail behind Jimin at work, less than a day for you to familiarize yourself with the environment, and less than a minute for the both of you to mutually agree that it’d be a lot easier to have a ghost on his side during investigations.

It was simple. Alibis could be fabricated to a tee, and you’d still be able to rip apart the lies and deceit somehow, either with a thorough search in their homes (prosecution would have difficulty getting search warrants without sufficient evidence) or a sit-in on their sessions with their attorneys, because a couple of law firms loved to play dirty for measly bribes.

It wasn’t as if you got paid (not directly anyway, but Jimin would argue that it was the equivalent to all your spendthrift habits), but you enjoyed it. It was nice, to be able to pin down criminals for their sins, no matter how minute, and to be able to let free men go, because no one deserved to rot in a jail cell for something they didn’t do. Some people were unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at all the wrong times; you understood that well enough in the past year.

“Jimin, I think I found something that could justify a search warrant for that homicide case you were working on,” You chirp merrily; you were a lot more lively (haha) today, what with the skip in your steps as you followed Jimin into the office, still sipping on your coffee (Jimin had memorized your order well enough by now so that he wouldn’t humiliate himself by asking for it in public). He cracks a soft smile at how earnest you were, and his heart was swelling with so much unspoken affection he could almost combust.

“Did you manage to find something?” He asks unabashedly this time, uncaring of the looks sent his way. You were unbelievably happy and radiant; he wasn’t about to take that away from you.

“Yeah, that bastard had a hideout not far from where the victim lived. If you check that place out, it has all the weapons you’d need to sustain an entire platoon of soldiers,” Grin triumphant, you slid over the post-it containing its address and some simplified directions. Yes, you were beyond euphoric. Nabbing nasty criminals aside, you liked working with Jimin, you liked being helpful and helping to take a load off of his constantly languid shoulders, and you liked seeing him light up whenever it sinks in that he’s actually making a difference in this morbid world.

Park Jimin was practically an angel; you’ve stood firm on that conclusion ever since a year ago, and you had every intention of making sure he had all the happiness he deserved.

“Goddamnit, now I have to get you that Gucci bag you were eyeing the other day,” Or so he says, but you knew that was his little indiscreet way of conveying his gratitude.

“Fried chicken would be good too. Since you devoured the one Jungkook got me yesterday.”

Jimin would have retorted with yet another roll of his eyes, but he caught himself in time, just as Prosecutor Kim Seokjin cleared his throat from where he was positioned before Jimin’s desk.

“Were you on the phone?”

"Uh, yes," Tonguing the inside of his cheek as he usually did whenever he was nervous, Jimin fibbed, and you noted that he had yet to master the art of deceit, "I mean, maybe, yeah."

As much as you enjoyed watching Jimin fumble for words, you had better things to do, such as sizing the new guy up. He looked like he was from a reasonably well-off family, either that or he was rolling in the dough he makes, because you could have sworn you saw those shoes on Saint Laurent's homepage just a couple of days ago, and that blazer probably doesn't cost anything less than a grand.

You were getting all up in his face now (not that he'd realize), making sure to study every little detail as if your life depended on it (well, it didn't, not really) because there was just something about him that made your head spin and your heart empty. All these newfound emotions were planting tiny seeds in the fissures of your mind, taking shape in the amorphous forms of both doubt and hope at the same time.

Jimin was a prosecutor; he couldn't have passed the bar exam if he was anywhere close to being an idiot (you loved to proclaim otherwise, but it was all true and you knew it). He had immediately searched you up once he had gotten hold of your name, hoping to at least figure out your identity while you were alive, or maybe help you recover your lost memories, because waking up in the middle of the street and discovering that you had kicked the bucket wasn't really the best way to go. Refusing to give up even when the search gave him absolutely nothing, he had even spent the following weekend pouring over the newspaper archives over at the library, hoping to find your name in the obituaries somewhere.

But once again, nothing. It was almost as if your existence itself had been nothing but a phantom grounded in reality, and all thought of wanting to comprehend your death or to move on through finding consolation in finding your family gradually faded away into the summer breeze, eventually only surfacing every once in a while whenever you lose sight of your renewed purpose as Jimin's unofficial crime-busting partner.

The terse smile straining at the handsome prosecutor’s lips tore your attention away from the past and back to the present, where he was currently handing over a case file, “This is the case the district attorney mentioned the other day. Sorry, you must be busy enough as you are, but I can’t be the in-charge of this since I’d be violating the rules. ”

Then he just left, though your eyes couldn’t help but to be drawn to his disconsolate silhouette; the man seemed to be perpetually drowning in sorrow, and you feel bad for him, because he seems to be capable of so much more than half-hearted smiles and downcast eyes.

Jimin doesn’t pay heed to your limited attention span, instead giving the case file a brief one-over before deciding that this case would pretty much require an all-nighter, and that it’d be best to get the near hundred cold cases stuffed in his drawer over and done with before he tackled something with that degree of complexity. It was another homicide incident, but what had made it stand out was that the suspect could potentially be linked to several cases that had occurred as far as two years prior, and that meant Jimin would really have to go all out with investigation.

Don’t get him wrong, he adored his job most of the time, but he’d been in the sector long enough to be repulsed by the whole idea of spending his entire night buried up to his neck in work, and it was almost a given that he’d spend the next day downing a whole flask of coffee; not his favorite pastime.

But as he watched you switch up Hoseok’s desk arrangement yet again and hit ‘send’ on a lameass picture on Yoongi’s SnapChat, your cackles filling up the stillness of the office (no one else could hear it anyway), he decided that it probably wouldn’t be that bad after all, not with you around.

And he wasn’t wrong; not when his preferred form of entertainment was you dancing horrendously to all the latest idol bops (he’s just going to pretend that he wasn’t the least bit intrigued by your execution of the backpack kid dance) until you’ve exhausted yourself on the makeshift bed in the office, drooling just about everywhere, but somehow leaving Jimin with a myriad of thoughts swirling nonsensically in that sleep-deprived mind of his; another aspect he resented about all-nighters with every fiber of his being.

Because the rational part of him knew that whatever this was, it had to stop. He had to stop wondering if you had gotten your terrible dancing skills from either of your parents (or maybe both?), he had to stop wondering if you two would have been the same age had you still been alive, he had to stop thinking about all the possibilities that would inevitably lead him to a merciless dead end. No matter how alive you felt, how radiant you were, how electrifying your touch was, ultimately, you were dead. The remnants of a soul long gone, the lingering spirit of a beautiful person who had once been alive.

He had to stop, and yet Jimin was irrational approximately 80% of the time, and there was nothing he would love more than to wrap you up in all the blankets he owned just so you wouldn’t feel as cold as you felt, to hug you and kiss you and love you without some passing loser reporting him to the nearest mental institution, to see how anxious you’d get when he introduced you to his parents even though he knew they would be as enchanted as he was.

But then he’d think of all hundred and one things that could go wrong, like you vanishing one fine day and him being unable to resent you for leaving him heartbroken because you’ve finally moved on, you were in a better place, or like you eventually losing all that remained of your soul, dissipating into thin air and he would never know if you were real, or just another passing dream that had lasted a little longer than usual.

So he stalls.

Perhaps if he waited long enough, his fondness for your toothy smile and your crinkly eyes would diminish into the softest flakes of gentle admiration, much like how the never ending blankets of snow eventually crumbled into dust whenever winter bled into spring.

.

“Dude. Trust me that I’m not insane when I’m saying this, but this apartment is—” Taehyung’s baritone voice drops to an even lower octave (not possible, but okay), lashes fanning his cheeks at the fastest rate man has ever seen from how visibly alarmed he was, “—haunted.”

It was like Jungkook all over again, and Jimin wasn’t sure if you could handle another person walking through you in his attempt to give you a handshake.

Rubbing a weary hand against his equally weary face, he only looks up at the (slightly) taller man blearily, eyes heavy with well-deserved sleep, “You came over at 4 in the morning just to tell me that?”

“I’m pretty sure any other person would be thankful to have someone telling them about the malicious spirits plaguing their house, Jiminie.”

“She’s not malicious, she helps me pack some clothes whenever I stay the night at the office and she grumbles about making me coffee in the morning but she does it anyway. She’s pretty damned sweet okay?” Jimin ran his mouth off without really considering the consequences of outing you twice, this time to his best friend, but it was 4am, and he really wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Wha—” Both you and Taehyung started at the same time, except he was cut off because Jimin was slowly shoving him back out the front door, and you just didn’t really know how to respond to that surprisingly nice confession.

No words were exchanged after Jimin sleepily drags himself back into bed, and neither you nor Taehyung ever spoke about the incident to him ever again.

Which brings you to how you never know what exactly to do whenever Taehyung came over, because on one hand, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t aware, per say, but on the other hand, Jimin does say pretty outrageous things from time to time, and no one ever buys it.

“So how’s work?”

Taehyung’s question was normal enough, but Jimin had been swamped with cases left and right recently, and with Prosecutor Kim’s transfer case adding to his exponentially growing pile, he was barely able to even sit down in his own kitchen to make small talk over his daily dose of caffeine with the best friend he hasn’t seen for two weeks, so he only responds with something between a scowl and a grimace.

“Terrible. Stressful. Let’s not go there,” You hear him say as you struggle with stuffing toast into your mouth as discreetly as possible (you wouldn’t die a second time if you didn’t feed yourself, but you love food, so there’s that), hunching low in the event that Taehyung swivels around to be greeted with half-eaten toast suspended in air, “how’s the hospital?”

“It’s been busy these couple of weeks, but I’m doing okay, which is surprising,” As much as you knew, Taehyung was a newly transferred nurse in one of Seoul’s biggest hospitals; a job befitting of his gigantic heart, “it’s interesting too, interacting with the patients and all.”

“I bet you flirted with the cute ones,” Jimin promptly returns, and Taehyung throws a cornflake at him in retaliation.

“That reminds me, do you happen to be in charge of that Kim Janghyun case?”

“The guy on the news every single goddamned day? Yeah I am, was even planning on doing some fieldwork for that today, actually. Why do you ask?”

Jimin hasn’t actually read through much of that particular case, since he had barely ploughed through all of those cold cases last night. All he knew was that the guy was a psycho; though he did intend on getting more ground covered today, because the weather was perfect for a day’s worth of grueling investigative work. Not that he’d ever figure out why the case had to be taken off Prosecutor Kim’s hands and conveniently passed into his own.

“Nah, I’ve heard some stuff about him from the other nurses, we’re taking care of some of his victims after all,” With a shrug, Taehyung concludes any more of work-related conversation, swiftly moving on to much more fascinating topics instead, like his neighbor’s new pet dog.

.

"The weather's really nice today, Jiminie," You were beaming again, for the hundredth time, but he knew exactly what that conniving yet seemingly innocent smile was hiding, but you continue grinning away like an idiot anyway.

And your smile was contagious too.

"Get to the point, Y/N."

He sounded sterner than he actually was; you could tell because his eyes were already shaped into your favorite crescents.

"The weather's perfect—

Eyebrow raised, he waits.

—for shopping."

Ah, he knew it, of course your shopaholic habits were coming into play, and right in the middle of finally getting around to gathering information on that stupid case too.

"See that convenience store over there?" Fingers already poised in midair, pointing over to your far left, Jimin spoke in a monotone (but you catch the affection laced in it anyway), "That's all you're gonna get, princess. Go nuts."

"You're the best, Jimin, I swear. I won't ever tease you about those insoles ever again," Your voice was ringing in his left ear, tone rushed and sweet, and he didn't need to look to know you were already on your way across the street, "I won't take long, you know me."

Yes, he did know you, and you hit the nail right on the head, because—

"I'll take this, this, this, this, this and this," Rattling off about ten items per minute, you were so excited you had forgotten that no one except Jimin could actually hear your ridiculous demands.

"Uh, she’ll, I mean, I'll take this, this, this, this, this and," Jimin actually felt really sorry for both himself and the mortified shop assistant as he tried to keep up with your pace, echoing whatever you've said ten seconds ago, "and this?"

The only plausible conclusion Jimin could come to was that you were impossibly loaded while you had still been alive, and even then it couldn’t explain everything, because he hadn’t realized it was even remotely possible for someone to spend half a thousand in a convenience store. Blatantly turning a blind eye to the glare Jimin was burning into the side of your head, you wait eagerly as he finishes up payment at the cashier counter, bemused smile quirking at your lips at the sight of him having his hands full with all the bags.

And of course, of fucking course, something had to catch your attention just as you were both about to leave the store (after emptying about a quarter of it), and you stop in your ghostly tracks, gasping at the enormous lollipop you didn’t know you missed.

“Jiminie, let’s get that too.”

“I really need to get in touch with that exorcist, I can’t believe you—

Bless Kim Seokjin’s fantastic timing, thankfully distracting Jimin from his (not) elaborate scheme to murder you (a second time), and the ghostbuster himself struggles to fish his phone out of his pocket to answer the pending call what with the three thousand bags hanging off his arms. You feel terrible for him, really, you do, and you would help, but it wasn’t as if anyone wanted to be witness to levitating bags of food in the middle of a convenience store.

—hello? Yes, I’m working on it, is anything wrong?”

You watch curiously as he mumbles into the phone in law jargon you don’t really care for, features twisting into an unreadable expression that you absolutely detest, because Jimin’s not Jimin if his every emotion wasn’t clearly plastered all over his face, clear as day for only you to see.

The call ends as quickly as it came, and your questioning gaze was answered by an indifferent shrug, “We’re going to have to drop by Prosecutor Kim’s house to pick up some leftover documents from the investigation. They sound pretty important, if he’s so upset about them.”

“He was upset?”

Nodding, Jimin leads the way out the convenience store, easily tossing the products of your impulsive spree into the trunk of his Benz before ushering you hurriedly into the passenger seat, leaning over to get the seatbelt even though the gesture, while largely appreciated, was completely redundant, seeing as how your life could hardly be endangered. He came so close you could grasp the fleeting scent of his wood sage and sea salt cologne, along with the slight hint of fresh laundry detergent, and his proximity alone had you looking everywhere but at the man himself. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of all that surrounds you, though your consciousness could only register Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

Maybe ghosts were just simple-minded in general (though you could only speak for yourself, since you hadn’t seen anyone else in a similar plight, and neither had Jimin), but your eyes (unsurprisingly) landed on his soft blonde strands and without thinking much of it (unlike what a certain Park Jimin would have done), your fingers were already winding their way through, uncaring of the fact that you had just ruined the same hairstyle that had taken him all of three minutes to style in the morning. Expectedly so, he freezes at your touch (that could be attributed to your unnaturally low body temperature) for a millisecond, almost instantaneously drawing his hand up to encase yours.

Mind you, to any other passerby he would have been a weirdo hanging out by himself while in the middle of getting into the passenger seat of a driverless car, but a moment was a moment, and as of now, you and Park Jimin were having a Moment™.

“Your hands are cold,” He says, dark hazel eyes boring into yours and frankly looking a little sad.

“They’ve always been cold, Jiminie.”

That seemed to have been the wakeup call he needed, because he was climbing into the driver’s seat before you knew it, the warmth of his fingers leaving barely any trace behind, moving to fix themselves firmly on the wheel.

“I know.”

And you knew it too. That the late night snuggling, the spontaneous hugs, and everything good, nice and warm that came along with Park Jimin was transient. If he had thought you hadn’t noticed a thing about the unsubtle glances he’d send you, the muted adoration in his irises, the affection so apparent in every smile he’d send you, he had to be insane.

But then again, he had to be, to some extent, for having fallen in love with a ghost.

On the contrary, you would never think that he hadn’t seen the way you had looked back every time you felt his gaze on you and the endearment reflected in your orbs, because he had.

And you knew he was afraid.

But then again, so were you.

So you turn to stare out the window, observing the city whizz by, bustling with life and with all that you may never be around to see again, soaking it all in and biting back the tears that threatened to spill once you looked down at your translucent skin.

For a moment, your hands had been more transparent than anything, flickering as if it was some florescent lightbulb about to go out sometime soon.

If Jimin had seen anything, he’d aptly chosen not to say a word as he pulled into the parking lot of a luxurious looking building, passing over his identification to the security at the entrance, “We’re here. His place is a lot closer than I’d thought.”

“Holy shit, his place is huge.” You start to say, and Jimin, ever the gentleman, pulls you out from where your ass was firmly planted in that leather seat of his, “He lives here alone?”

“Supposedly.”

Kim Seokjin himself appears not long after to lead the two of you up to his less-than-humble million dollar abode, typically silken hair disheveled and uncombed, emerging haphazardly from the elevator with only a slipper on his left foot. The peculiarity of his unkempt appearance aside, you spend the whole ride up the sixteen floors gaping at the interior of the elevator alone, taking in the stained glass lining the panels and the renaissance-styled paintings littering the ceiling. And that was after you had your fill of the marble floors and that humongous water fountain with a statue of Aphrodite as a center-piece in the lobby.

And yeah, his cozy penthouse with the gold-plated chandeliers and designer bedroom slippers were a delight and all, but the real shocker was the large family portrait, complete with a diamond-studded frame, hung up right smack in the middle of the hallway.

Because next to Kim Seokjin’s graceful yet frigid smile, was yours, though the artificial curve of your lips did little to mask the luminous glint in your eyes.

As you stagger back in shock, you catch Jimin’s squeak of a question, “Who’s the girl in that picture?”

Your fingers flicker once more.

“That’s my little sister.”

And everything comes rushing back, the previously fragmented pieces of the puzzle coming together in glimpses of vermillion stains and the stagnant stench of fear.

.

Jimin had always been a bit of an overachiever. He’d graduated from law school with first class honors, passed the dreaded bar exam with flying colors, and hey, he did win that 100m relay back in high school.

With a multitude of impressive notches on his belt, no one would ever believe he was nearly at his wit’s end all because you were crying.

Apart from when you first met, Jimin hasn’t seen you cry, like ever. Not even when you had tagged along with him on one of his trips down to the autopsy room and had seen one of the most grotesque victims of murder to exist in history, or when Jungkook had accidentally scratched that Prada crossbody bag you caressed before going to bed every night (you had moped for two days, and Jimin may or may not have ate Jungkook’s cereal on purpose).

The cause for concern was that you weren’t outright sobbing either; you were staring dazedly at your hands, stubbornly wiping at your tear-stained face with your sleeve every couple of minutes and burying your face into his pillow repeatedly.

“Am I going to disappear? Just like that?” You spoke after what seemed like a whole decade later, voice hoarse.

“You’d be in a better place, Y/N,” Jimin moves aside the duvet to make space for himself, sitting down warily and hoping he doesn’t sound as empty as he felt.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

No, he doesn’t, but Jimin liked to hold on to the sensible part of him that has him fully convinced nothing good would come out of needlessly clinging onto you and dragging the both of you further down this rabbit hole. For all he knew, he could be delusional and you were but a mere hallucination; a hella realistic one.

“You fucking coward,” The tears were falling fast, angrily spilling over your lashline, and your nose was running, making you look like a goddamn mess, but you didn’t care, “You’re a fucking coward, Park Jimin.”

Instinctively, he reaches for your face in an attempt to pad the tears away, but you smack his hand away, eyes flashing with fury. The pang in Jimin’s chest only digs harder, and his hand hangs limply in the air.

“I am,” He says simply, and you cry out in outrage, fists balled up and pounding lightly, though relentlessly, on his shoulders and chest. He doesn’t offer any resistance, only clasping his fingers gently around your wrists to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself, trying not to look any longer at your grief-stricken face and instead focusing on his bedroom ceiling.

You were pinning him down to his bed by now, and Jimin’s face was a mess of your tears and snot all at once, but it’s not long before you were losing both strength and resolve, fingers turning translucent once again before you collapse exhaustedly back on his bed.

Silence ensues, and it’s ridiculously painful.

“I’m afraid,” Jimin speaks slowly, deciding that he must probably be out of his mind, but to hell with his sanity, “Of resenting you when you leave eventually. Of half-dying of loneliness when you move on to the afterlife. Of not knowing what I’ll do if you just vanish out of the blue.”

He exhales. It’s official, he’s downright insane, but he may as well embrace the heck out of it.

“Hell, I’m probably the most selfish coward you’ll ever meet, but this coward is irrevocably in love with you, Y/N.”

The confession lingers hazily in the stilled and frigid air, oscillating in some sort of orbital around your head as you scramble to sit up, eyes wide and mind frantic.

It wasn’t fair to you, Jimin belatedly realizes, that all he was risking was a potential heartbreak yet here you were, laying out your entire heart and soul out for him in all its vulnerability only to have him brush it aside because he’s a pussy and he’s scared. He’s not the one with his life and very existence at stake here; he could hardly fathom the complexity of your emotions, having the one person who could acknowledge your presence dismissing all semblance of your feelings and invalidating the one thing that still made you feel vaguely human.

It wasn’t fair to him either, to beguile himself into thinking he felt nothing whenever your gaze lingered on him a second too long, or to shrug it off whenever he had the urge to kiss the pout off your face.

Truth to be told, it wasn’t fair to either of you, to have what you have dismissed as if it was some sort of liability; an inconvenience that best went ignored and was unworthy of even acceptance.

So fuck it, no one ever said love came easy anyway.

“I thought I was being selfish,” You were biting down on your bottom lip again as you usually did whenever you were nervous, eyes flicking to Jimin’s desk lamp, Jimin’s worn out skateboard on the other side of the room, and then back to Jimin himself, “For wanting some sort of future with you even though no one else can even see me and my hands are pretty much see-through.”

“But think about it, what are the odds of falling in love with a ghost as irresistible as myself? Let’s make the most out of this, Jimin, we don’t have all day,” You continue, that breathtaking smile on your lips again, and suddenly nothing else mattered, nothing apart from you and the flecks of gold that danced fluidly behind your irises, daring him to go ahead and be reckless for once.

Grinning away like some lovesick idiot (guilty as charged), Jimin couldn’t bring himself to look away from your flushed cheeks and bright eyes, his palm cupping your jaw before you could protest otherwise.

“No, oh God, I know what you’re thinking and I really want to kiss you too but there’s snot literally everywhere—”

But then he kisses you anyway and you shut right up.

.

The atmosphere in court has never been anything less than borderline suffocating, the air thick with unspoken vengeance and rising tension.

All the seats in the courtroom had been occupied; a rare occurrence in itself given that typically only family members or close friends would bother showing up at a trial, of all things. But then again, the case at hand was far from typical; it was one that had shook the nation, plunging fear into the hearts of the people and shedding doubt onto the judiciary system and its efficiency.

And there was Jimin, face devoid of emotion as he dealt the accused with a hardened gaze, circling the podium carefully with a stack of notes in tow; the very ones he had spent the past week pouring over, painstakingly sieving through the information in order to make sure no mistakes would be his to make, and that the perpetrator in question pays the price for his heinous crimes.

At the very least, the trial was about three-quarters through, and he was sure even the defense attorney was unable to dispel the evidence that was so blatantly organized and curated for all to see. The verdict would be likely to go in the prosecution’s favor, and Jimin simply needed to deliver the final blow.

“On the 27th February, Ms. Yoo Sukyung had been stabbed repeatedly in an alleyway not too far from where she lived, by a man largely resembling the accused, as you can see from the black box footage captured from one of the cars parked nearby,” Jimin notes, voice firm as he flashes the acquired footage on screen, and the judge, a pleasant woman in her late fifties, nods.

“The accused, Mr. Kim Janghyun, had been stalking her for the past few months, evident from the candid photos taken from his rented apartment. He had marked her as a victim not long after he had met her at the café she was employed at, and had decided to make his move that night,” He continued, not sparing another glance at the shriveled up frame of the sick bastard, “Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on there being a witness, Ms. Y/N L/N, who had jumped in immediately in an attempt to render aid to the victim. The ensuing struggle had led them out of the blind spot and into an area where the surveillance cameras had thankfully captured their faces, which you would be able to see here.”

The pixelated camera footage plays, and Jimin tries not to wince each time the silver of the wielded blade comes too close to you for comfort, and had to look away at the 8-minute mark, in which the tip of the blade successfully punctures your gut, and for several times after, drawing spurts of a dark red that seemingly blends into the rest of the night.

You couldn’t stop laughing sardonically when you did see the footage yourself, though; your newly reclaimed memories were what had helped Jimin in his investigation after all, and you had insisted on watching the whole 20-minute video despite his coaxing (and bribes). ‘Run, you stupid bitch’ you would mutter darkly to yourself every once in a while, and Jimin would die a little inside.

“As such, the prosecution would like to indict the accused for 6 accounts of first-degree murder, as well as for 2 accounts of aggravated assault, along with the perversion of justice. Thank you, Your Honor.”

Sitting back smugly in his seat, Jimin shrugs the lose sleeve of his robe back on, content and more confident than ever that justice would be served.

Thinking back, it should have been obvious from the get-go; the way you had been unsettled by Prosecutor Kim’s presence in the office, how there was barely any record of you despite being one of the key players of the attempted murder that night. Heck, even your love for all things costing an arm and a leg had been a big fat clue shoved into his face (as well as his bank account).

The Kim family was powerful; powerful enough to have erased all records of their third-generation heiress, terrified that the attention of the mass media would be detrimental to business and whatnot; the things rich people worried about didn’t often come across as logical, at least not to Jimin. It was, however, good to know that your odd habit of splurging on designer goods hadn’t stemmed out of nowhere; it eased the hole in his wallet ever so slightly.

Even your strange and subtle affection for Prosecutor Min Yoongi had been a clue of sorts. He had been the prosecutor-in-charge back when the sick bastard in question had first been in court for his first victim, only to be unbelievably vexed and swarmed with ill-directed guilt when he had been released due to lack of evidence, hence Prosecutor Min’s eventual marriage to his work life in the later year (till death do them apart indeed).

Park Jimin wasn’t invincible though, he still wailed like a baby when more than half your body had increasingly become more diaphanous ever since you had your memory back, eventually giving way to nothingness, leaving behind nothing but an empty void.

Your farewell kiss had been very much you, only a graze of your lips against his; a ghost of a peck and as ephemeral as anything.

“Don’t cry, you loser. I’ll see you when I see you.”

.

“Jiminie, what took you so long?” Leave it to Kim Taehyung to have a complaint hanging loosely off his tongue the minute he sees the flustered man emerging from the stairwell. For a nurse, he sure doesn’t have the patience of a saint despite it actually being in the job description.

“I got lost, what the fuck is with all these floors and where is Room 310 again?” Jimin swears he hasn’t been this breathless since that same 100m relay that he had won in high school, and you could cross his heart and hope to die (though that won’t be preferred), and he’d still tell you that yes, he still does his morning runs every Sunday, and yes, it may or may not be in the form of a quick run to the convenience store a couple blocks down for some cup ramen.

“It’s because it’s the VIP floor, you smartass,” Taehyung smirks knowingly, tapping playfully against the clipboard he was clinging onto as he leads his best friend down the winded corridors, “Room 310 is all the way at the end of the hallway.”

Jimin doesn’t even stay around to catch Taehyung’s casual invitation for lunch at the hospital cafeteria, instantaneously bursting into his tenth sprint of the day and breezing past all the large wooden doors to get to the most intimidating one of them all—yours.

Just his luck to get a girlfriend who also happened to be the heiress to a billion-dollar corporation; it wasn’t going to be an easy feat getting past the two burly bodyguards looming over the doors of Room 310, eyes condescending as they glance down at a panting guy in day-old sweats and a beaten up hoodie.

“ID?” One of them had been kind enough to prompt Jimin; and he thanked the heavens that he had remembered to stuff his wallet in his pocket before leaving the house in a flurry ten minutes ago, slipping out his flimsy identification card (with the humiliating photo of his bowl cut and all) and all but scurrying through the doors once those scary dudes had gotten the verification they needed.

“Y/N?” Jimin has no idea why he was whispering, but he was, the pin-drop silence in the spacious ward giving him reason for the tinge of unease pooling in his abdomen.

Diffidently, he approached, steps unhurried and uncertain.

You were there, nestled peacefully in a stack of what appeared to be the fluffiest pillows known to man, long locks splayed out all across the Egyptian 980 thread count duvet and lips looking as soft as velvet, looking every bit as unconscious as you had been for the past few months (more, if Jimin was counting the time he spent with you hovering around). The steady quickening of his heartrate was no longer a foreign sensation for him, and the tiniest of smiles quirks at his lips at your light snoring. Admittedly, your complexion was looking miles better, a sweet pink dotting your cheeks, and wait, was that mascara on your lashes?

Jimin didn’t quite have the time to dwell on the Question of the Year because your eyelids were springing open, a shriek threatening to erupt from your lips at the sudden intrusion.

The lack of recognition in your warm eyes were the equivalent to a good stab in his chest, and the unadulterated fear palpable in your features had him taking several steps back, frenetic questions about to gush from his lips.

“Who are you, and why are you in my room?”

And it wasn’t like Jimin wanted to do it, but he just did; his knees had gone weak from the shock and disbelief and there he was, now a flaccid mess on the floor of Seoul National University Hospital’s VIP ward looking like he’d lost a couple of souls.

Your mellifluous laughter was quick to file into the room, trickling like honey into Jimin’s welcoming ears, and not even a beat passes before he was off the floor and hurling himself into a nearly bone-crushing hug, cradling your head and choking back a sob.

“I’m so glad you woke up,” He says into your hair, disregarding your light chuckle of ‘that makes both of us’, hands fixed on your waist with fingers that had been freezing and trembling with trepidation only moments prior, “I swear, you and your lameass pranks will be the end of me.”

“It was a joke, Jiminie,” You poke back, though still a tad too feeble for your liking, “They’re supposed to make you laugh, not do the opposite.”

Your fingers were carding through his familiar strands, reveling in how soft it felt, just as how you had remembered it to be. Except this time, your hands emanated warmth, loads and loads of warmth; the kind that could make flowers bloom even in the dead of winter, the exact kind that would make Park Jimin putty in your hands (as if he wasn’t already).

The two of you don’t speak, letting the comfort of the silence seep in.

“Hey, Jiminie,” You say after a prolonged pause, “I’ve missed you.”

Jimin smiles into your shoulder, sighing blissfully, “I’ve missed you too.”

Beside you, the pellucid floor-length curtains flutter gently in the late afternoon breeze, reflecting the prettiest specks of gold and starlight onto the stark white walls.

a/n: I just couldn’t not give them the happy ending they deserve askfhakjs and I tried my best not to incorporate a court scene (because I have no idea what i’m doing) but lo and behold i can only hope that it’s not horribly inaccurate. here’s to hoping this was a decent shot at mystery! pls hmu with feedback or lemme know what you think anytime<3 also, HAPPY HALLOWEEN HUEHUE

[heyarace]

Character Solidifying Meme | Odd Numbers Ask Part 2

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?

Racetrack enjoys dressing well. He likes the sensation of quality materials and also just the feel it gives him when he looks nice. He’s also noticed that people react differently to someone who looks nice and he’s not above taking advantage of that every bit that he can. That said, he is a street kid and his options are limited. He’s probably become reasonably adept at repairing his beloved vest, finds creative alternatives to shoe polish, and figuring out how to keep his watch and chain in working order. If he could, he’d wear fancy suits all the time.

(Side note: one of the things I enjoy about the movie is watching Racetrack’s appearance become more disheveled and sloppy over the course of the story).

29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling?

Race’s cynicism definitely sometimes becomes a weakness. I think he can also be too much of a smart-ass, his mouth gets him into trouble. He could cultivate a little more patience, too. He tends to make decisions quickly and sometimes he needs other people to slow him down and think things over.

31. Does your character have children? How do they feel about their parental role? About the children? How do the children relate?

That’s a big no. He would be completely freaked out if he had children right now. He only barely manages to take care of himself.

33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health? 

He drinks and smokes tobacco (cigars). I don’t think he’d be above trying drugs, but he’s not hugely interested in them. (In the LMS ‘verse he turned down Levi’s offer to share a joint once, but I could see him accepting under other circumstances). Racetrack sees most drugs as a way to get out of your head, as escapism. For him, cigars are about enjoying life and they signify success and wealth. Race wants to live the good life, and to him anything that disengages you from your own experience of the world is counterproductive to enjoying yourself. Maybe a good psychedelic experience would broaden his perspective a little. As for his health, he doesn’t get sick often and he’s young so he hasn’t thought much about taking better care of himself. Not to mention that’s kind of a luxury you don’t have when your groceries primarily come from what other people throw away.

35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures?

There’s probably a certain amount of rationalization, but I think it would depend on what the error was and the results of it. He’s pretty good at taking what comes and dealing with it. Race probably always initially reacts to things a bit dramatically, and then calms down and can recalibrate as needed.

37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories?

Rather than imagination, exactly, Racetrack has very strong visualization skills. He can easily picture what he wants and then pursue that image the best he can, but he’s not a daydreamer. He doesn’t get lost in flights of fancy or wishful thinking. He’s very rooted in the present. When things are particularly bad--when he really has no money, he’s hungry, he needs a safe place to sleep--his worries sometimes get the better of him. Most of the time, though, he stays focused on addressing his needs one step at a time and doesn’t get too fussed. The support system of the newsies and the LMS are hugely important to him for this. He has people who will do their best to help him, even though they don’t have more than he does.

39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid?

The Delancey brothers. What a couple of jerks. More generally, bullies. He’s not above poking fun at people he sees as too uptight or straight-laced, either. He doesn’t have a lot of patience with people who are oblivious to opportunities when they come along. This can be a bit unfair, because he has such a great eye for leveraging every advantage life hands him and not everyone is as good at it as he is.

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?

He’s fairly self-aware. Everyone has their blind-spots about themselves, of course. Sometimes Racetrack buys a bit into his own hype about being a smart-aleck who gives no fucks and forgets that he...actually does care about certain things. Similarly, he likes to think of himself as a flirt but in reality he’s only good at it when he’s not invested in the outcome. Faced with Actual Feelings his suavity quickly breaks down.

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back?

I haven’t thought of any for him, haha. Canonically that’s a definite no. I sort of like that he’s not a mystery. I don’t think it makes him less interesting. I guess like a lot of teenagers he wants to keep his true feelings to himself because it makes him feel vulnerable and he doesn’t want his peers to hassle him about the things that matter, but that’s not really the same thing.

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?

Fairly pragmatic. He’s a quick thinker and sometimes he needs to slow down and think things through a little more, though. He becomes more responsible when other people are involved or relying on him to be. When it’s just him he tends to improvise a lot because he’s confident in his ability to think on his feet and weather whatever consequences arise.

47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Does they want to be visible or invisible?

Definitely “more important,” and sometimes older. He wants to project an image of sort of...devil-may-care success. He likes being visible, but it’s more of a large-scale misdirection kind of thing. If you’re looking at the vest and the clothes, the cigar and the trappings of “Racetrack” you’re not seeing...him, and that’s how he likes it. The best of both worlds.

49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent?

A New Yawk accent, for sure. I don’t always write it out properly because I think it honestly gets a little unreadable and it’s sometimes tedious on my end. I’m extremely bad at describing voices, and hey! I don’t have to:

Thanks for the ask, anon. I hope I answered all the questions to your satisfaction. I also hope I didn’t miss any, lol.

[moosetrackart-old]

Secrets

Another Batman and Joker fanfiction, with maybe some more angst, despite the fact that their personalities resemble the ones from the Lego Batman Movie. Also, this kind-of has the same cleaning up Joker sorta thing to add to the angst. There might be some dirtiness, but not too intense. Joker also reveals some stuff about him that are definitely non-canon, but it's my fic, so I can do what I want haha. ----------------------------------------------- Batman sat across from Joker, an exasperated look on his face; it took a long time to get him to come back home with him. He sighed and looked at him before taking his hand in his, pressing a kiss to it. "I hate you," the bat cooed, interlacing their fingers gently. "So, so much." Joker blushed and scooted closer, pressing his mouth against his hero's neck, giving it a kiss afterwards. He moved his other hand to the other side to slightly tilt Batman's head to the side and to caress his manly jaw. He lightly sucked a mark onto his neck before pulling away. "I hate you too, my sweet Batsy~" The villain smiled softly, interlacing their fingers on their other hand. "What would you like to do?" "How about we... Watch a movie? I have some Rom-coms, if you're interested..." Vigilante man laughed nervously. "Yes! Yes, of course." The two walked to the screening room and went inside. -- "You complete me," the man in the movie said, making Batman laugh, but Joker smile gently. "You had me at 'hello'," the woman replied, causing the bat to once again cackle. "These movies are ridiculous," Batman laughed, looking over at Joker, who was... crying? "What's- what's wrong?" "It's- it's just- I-I love these movies because they are just so romantic, and they remind me of our relationship. I-I'm sorry if that's weird, or something..." The villain blushed and leant his head on the vigilante's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him. "I..." He didn't finish his sentence. "You what?" "Nothing. I'll tell you later." -- "Master Bruce, what is he doing?" Alfred asked, pointing offhandedly at the Joker, who was telling Dick something. "I don't know. I'll go find out." The something-illionair walked nervously over to his son and 'enemy'. "Joker, what are you doing?" "Oh! Hi, Brucey! Richard and I here are talking about cleaning me up a bit, and making me stop being such a bad guy. How does that sound? Ey, Papi*?" J smirked, and Richey laughed. "That sounds good. What does Papi mean?" "'Daddy' in Spanish," Robin laughed. "Let's clean up this baddy! He was saying maybe bleach for his hair and makeup remover for his face. Do we have that stuff?" "Yeah." The three boys went to the dressing/makeup room, with Batman pulling out the products right away. -- "Dick, please can you go in the other room? I need to talk to the Joker, alone," Bruce Wayne asked politely of his son. "Oh, yeah! Of course, dad!" The boy left the hero and villain alone, smiling at them on the way out. -- "That's a lot of makeup you put on your face," Bruce said quietly, wiping gently at the white face paint that was slathered on his villain's face. "I know. I want to look good for you, though." Joker smiled and put a hand on the vigilante's chest and stroked all the way down to his waist. He slipped his hand under his belt from the bottom and traced a heart onto his groin. "It's extra soft right there." A soft look crossed his face as he moved his hand away and onto the billionaire's cheek. "And here, too." B blushed hard as he finally removed all the makeup. "Okay, J- Holy cow. What happened here?" The bat gently stroked his thumb over one of the villain's mouth scars. "Did I do that to you?" "N-no! It's fine! Don't worry about it!" Joker pleaded as he gently pushed his loved one's hands away. "You can do my hair now." "Alright." Bruce became very wary of how sad his partner became. He walked behind him and started with the bleach, which worked after three to five minutes to completely remove all green from his hair. It turned out, if Bruce's touched told him anything, that Joker had the smoothest and silkiest hair to ever exist, ever. J leaned back into his lover's pets, almost nuzzling into his hands. "I love you, Bruce." "I love you too, J-Bird. Say, why don't we come up with a new name for you, since you're all reformed and jazz?" "Uh... We could do my old name, Jack Napier?" There was a very noticeable shudder that ran down Jack's spine as he said that. Tears started bubbling in his eyes, too, as he sat, leaning forward a bit. "Woah, babe, are you okay?" Bruce walked over to the front of the chair so he could pick his Bae up. "I want you to know that I love you no matter what happens, okay?" He wrapped his lover's legs around his waist and gently pressed him against the wall. J shuddered and nodded a "me too" as he pressed his hips back against the other man's, slightly clinging to him. "Bruce, I-I love you so much..." A large blush coated his face, and as soon as he felt the heat of his face, he pressed his mouth to Bruce's, lovingly making out with that handsome devil. "Bruce, let's go to your bed to talk, okay?" "Okay." The hero carried his lover to his bed, where they laid down together. -- "I've not wanted to tell you how I got these scars for... Well, since I got them. You see, my..." Jack drifted off, as he didn't want to say anything. "J-Bird, are you okay?" Bruce asked gently, putting his hands on the other's waist carefully. He smiled when the other put his hands on his shoulders. "Y-yeah... It's just... My... My father was very abusive, and... He cut my face to make me smile, even if I wasn't, and he root-dyed my hair green, dying the rest afterwards. "My insecurities were hiding under the makeup you removed, and... And that's why I almost started crying. "And..." Jack stopped and began sobbing, tears wetting the sheets of his lover. "I'm sorry!" "Shh, shh, baby, shh," the billionaire repeated over and over, trying to comfort his villain. "It's okay. You're safe now, right?" "Y-yeah..." J scooted closer and clung to B's suit, trying to leave as little space between them as possible. "I... I have more to tell you... "It was not only to make me 'smile' that he cut my face; he was punishing me for being a... 'tranny', he said. "He said, 'You damn tranny! You're just a pathetic girl trying to be someone you're not! I'm gonna cut you for that!' "So he cut my face. "'Hope that'll be enough to satisfy your damn need for change. I don't want you in my house any longer, you worthless piece of trash!' And he kicked me out with my belongings. "I haven't been back home since, and I was lucky enough to find Harley Quinn, who got me back on my feet enough so I could transition. "She took care of me until I got my own place, and, though it's shabby, it's enough to keep me safe. "Now I have you, though. You keep me safe, entertained, and overall, very happy. Thank you, Bruce," Jack concluded, pressing a gentle kiss to his lover's mouth. "You're welcome. I didn't know you were, uh, trans. Is that the term?" "Well, for me you can use it." A smile crossed the vanilla villain's face. "And yes, I was a girl." "When you were a girl, your name was Jack? Or did you change it?" "My name was Jackie Napier, but I changed it to Jack, since that's what everyone called me... Oh, god, Bruce, I freaking love you..." J was happy, finally finding someone he could confide in. "I love you too, Jack. You're so precious to me." And so the two cuddled for a long time, loving each other's company. The end.