#this picture should be framed and hung up in an art museum

[smtown-tourist]

Taemin might have a chokehold on the androgynous concepts but y’all…

Who do you think he got that from?

[kurishiri]

04 . . . main story

— the first three chapters are translated already by @.celiciaa; you can view them here.

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: mentioned character death.

Alfons: Though using my ability to temporarily deceive an innocent young girl does have its charm...

A: Perhaps you may find some blue poppies in Elbie’s room?

Kate: Eh?

Alfons: Though I may be mistaken, I seem to recall there being a pressed flower in a frame before.

A: It may do you well to search around that junk of a room tomorrow sometime?

At Alfons’ suggestion, Lord Elbert raised a hand to his chin as if deep in thought.

Elbert: ...If Al says so, there may be one in my room.

Kate: Really...!?

Elbert: Shall we look for it there?

Kate: Yes, please...!

(If we can give her an actual blue poppy, I’m sure Daisy will be delighted.)

If there was a chance it could be found, there was no reason not to try.

Alfons: To think the day would come when you pay attention to the things you toss and leave into your room... I truly don’t understand you, Lord Elbert.

(Lord Elbert’s room...)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Things that don’t suit Elbert’s taste end up being left there to collect dust, making something of a mess in his room.

A: So I end up selling them on my own accord.

Kate: I-is it really okay to do it on your own accord?

Elbert: ...I don’t mind.

E: Because, I don’t have any interest in something that... is not beautiful.

—— End flashback ——

(So it’s a room full of things that are ‘not beautiful’?)

(...Just what kind of room is that?)

Alfons: Hehe, by all means, please search around very thoroughly together.

Elbert: You’re not helping, Al?

Alfons: Why, of course not! You knew from the start, no?

A: That I detest doing physical labor like that.

The next day.

Elbert: Here... come in.

Kate: Yes, pardon... me...

Upon stepping foot into Lord Elbert’s room, my mind went blank for a while.

(So the ‘having no interest’ part was true...)

Pretty butterfly specimens, beautiful stuffed birds, oil paintings and ceramics, jewelries...

There were luxury goods that seemed dazzling to me as well; it wouldn’t be strange if they were displayed in art museums.

It was a strange scene indeed, seeing the clutter.

(There are so many things in his room... but, it seems a little lonely.)

In this room cluttered with things left around and about, a sense of emptiness hung in the air.

Elbert: Well then... shall we search?

Kate: Do you have some idea where it could be, possibly?

Elbert: ...Actually.

Kate: Actually...?

Elbert: I have never searched around this room before, so... I don’t know where anything is here.

Kate: This is your own room though...?

Elbert: It seems searching for it... will take quite a bit of time.

(...Even putting that aside, I have a lot of questions.)

(But right now, we should focus on finding the blue poppy.)

Kate: It’s alright. I’m sure if we work together to find it, we’ll find it much faster than if one of us were doing the job.

Elbert: ... [surprised]

Kate: Let’s do our best!

Elbert: Yes... let’s.

The things around the room were placed such that it was hard for people to move around, so I stayed cautious so as to not bump into anything as I began searching.

Kate: Ah, could this be it?

When I peeked through the gap of the hood which covered a picture frame on the floor, I saw something vibrant blue.

Elbert: What... was that again...?

Kate: I’ll look inside.

When I lifted the slightly heavy frame and removed the hood, beneath it was a beautiful oil painting.

Kate: It’s not a poppy or a pressed flower... but it’s a very pretty scenic painting.

Elbert: If I remember... it was from some exhibition. Everyone was praising it, so I wanted it.

E: They said they weren’t selling it, but I ended up getting it, with some coaxing.

Kate: It seems if they were going to give you an item that wasn’t for sale, they would ask for a hefty price in return...

Elbert: It was around the price of one townhouse, I think.

Kate: Huh!?

At that moment, my hands went stiff, causing the item in my hands to almost fall, so I supported them in a panic.

Elbert: ...Are you alright?

Kate: Sorry about that! I didn’t drop this, so I think it’s alright.

Elbert: Not what you’re holding... I’m talking about you.

(Eh...)

Lord Elbert took the painting from my hands, and set it down somewhere around him with little care for it.

Elbert: Are you hurt...?

Kate: ...No, I’m, I’m fine.

(I’m happy that he’s worried about me...)

But I couldn’t help but look at that oil painting, which was put on the floor.

(He went through so much and paid a high price to obtain this painting, but he already has no interest in it.)

(Because it ‘wasn’t beautiful’...)

Kate: Lord Elbert, is there anything in this room you hold dear...?

Elbert: ...Something I hold dear?

Kate: It’s just, I was thinking if there was anything you don’t want me to touch here, I would like to know.

Elbert: Well...

Elbert’s eyes wandered around the room in a daze.

When his deep, ocean blue eyes turned to me at last, Lord Elbert’s lips formed a smile.

Elbert: I... don’t really have such things, I think.

(None...)

I feel like I understand why I felt that sense of emptiness.

(This is a room where there is nothing its own master holds dear.)

It was Lord Elbert’s room, but there was nothing here for him.

(Then, these beautiful things overflowing in this room—)

(Who are they for... and what purpose do they serve?)

Elbert: Kate?

Kate: ! ...Sorry, I spaced out a little.

Elbert: ...I don’t mind if anything gets broken, but please take care not to get hurt.

With those words, Lord Elbert started to search another area of the room.

(Right now, I just need to focus on finding the blue poppy!)

Redirecting my focus, I placed both hands on my knees and crawled through a crevice.

(...!?)

All of a sudden, my eyes met with hollow black ones, causing my heart to skip a beat.

(Ah, it’s a stuffed bird. It’s pretty, but also a little scary.)

There was not a single moving thing in Lord Elbert’s room.

The needle on a watch didn’t move, maintaining a beautiful form, and all living things were either stuffed or made into specimens.

(Come to think of it... where did the cat that he picked up while we were shopping together go...?)

Because I was leaning back while thinking about this—

Kate: Waaah...!?

Elbert: Hm...?

My butt ended up bumping into Lord Elbert, who had also been crouching down right next to me.

Kate: S-sorry... ow—!

The moment I pulled away from him, this time my elbow bumped into the shelf.

(Aahh... just how foolish can I get...)

Elbert: ...Are you alright?

Kate: Yes, I’m alright. Sorry about that, I’ve been doing nothing but causing worry for you.

Elbert: The room is a mess, so don’t worry about... it...?

At that moment, something came falling from the top of the shelf and landed on top of Lord Elbert’s head.

Elbert: What was that just now?

Kate: I wonder what...

When we looked down at our feet, there was a white bunny stuffed animal.

(It’s cute...)

Kate: I didn’t know you had something so cute here.

Elbert: Ah... I believe I bought it because the store owner said it was the most beautiful.

(This stuffed animal’s ribbon is tied in a granny knot.)

In a room so full of beautiful things, my eyes felt strangely drawn to the way the ribbon was tied a bit crookedly.

Kate: I should put it back. Where did it drop from...

I stood up, looking toward the general direction from which the stuffed animal fell. Just then—

(Ah!!)

Kate: Lord Elbert, could that be...!?

As if hiding in a work of art on top of the shelf, inside the frame on the wall was a blue petal of a poppy, pressed in a beautiful shape, having fully blossomed.

Elbert: ...There really is a blue poppy here...

E: Al might know my own room better than myself...

Kate: It is the real thing, right...?

Shoulder to shoulder, we stared at the flower in the frame before turning to each other at around the same time.

Kate: Can we bring this to Daisy?

Elbert: Of course... we still have time after this, so let’s go together.

Kate: Alright...!

(I wonder if Daisy will be happy.)

(Even when we’re not visiting her, she can look at this...)

(and, even if it’s just a little bit, I hope there will be more times she can smile.)

When I thought of Daisy’s smile, still holding its innocence, my chest blooms with anticipation.

Elbert: ...That’s the first time I’ve seen you smiling so happily.

Kate: Eh...?

When I lifted my head in response to his sudden words, I saw his deep ocean-like eyes fixed on me.

(Lord Elbert...?)

Elbert: ...Show me more of it.

With fingers as pretty as that of a sculpture’s, he gently touched my cheeks.

Kate: ...Hn.

He has a good looking face, so when he approached me, my breath caught in my throat.

There was a dark, hazy look in his gaze — similar to the one he had the night we first met Daisy and what I felt in the garden, and it unsettled me.

Elbert: ...

(What... should I do?)

(I... can’t look away.)

At that moment, a soft knock could be heard.

Kate: Y-yes!?

I blurted out without thinking.

Following a brief pause, Alfons poked his head through the door.

Alfons: ...Oh my, I do apologize. Have I interrupted something?

A: Please feel free to think of me as a slightly big door stopper and continue what you were doing, by all means.

Kate: I-it’s not what you think! I’ll get ready to go out.

As if running from Lord Elbert’s gaze, I left the room.

Elbert: ...

Alfons: You don’t have to glare at me like that. I assure you it was not on purpose.

(What was that just now?)

(Saying things like ‘show me your smiling face more’...)

It was almost like Lord Elbert was trying to make advances on me, but it didn’t look like that was his intention.

(It was more like he was trying to confirm something...)

When I remembered the way he looked at me, I felt that unsettling feeling in my chest once more, and I shook my head.

Kate: Right now, I have to hurry so we can go and give this to Daisy.

Setting aside that unsettling feeling, I ran down the hallway to my own room.

And then when the sun passed its highest point, Lord Elbert and I walked down the hallway of the infirmary.

Elbert: I wonder if she’s up. ...Lately, her condition hasn’t been looking good.

Kate: True... if she’s sleeping, we can wait a little bit.

While we conversed in low voices, I walked toward the room, feeling very excited, but—

Daisy’s voice: Hu... hic...

(Hm? That’s Daisy’s voice...)

(Is she crying?)

Elbert: ...

Perhaps she was speaking with someone, but Daisy’s tear-strained voice could be heard from the other side of the door.

(I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop.)

My reflexes tell me so, yet I end up pushing my ear against the door to listen.

Daisy’s voice: I... ended up doing something bad. I said... I wanted something... that is impossible to get.

D: Because... those people, were so kind...

D: They want me to keep living...

D: And it’s painful.

Kate: ...

My chest ached as though my heart were being squeezed.

Daisy’s voice: That’s why, I wanted to make them suffer, a little bit.

D: After all, you can’t forget the sad things. That’s why, if they don’t find the blue poppies...

D: Those two will... remember me forever, right...?

The shock hit me like being punched in the face.

We had wanted to cheer her up. That’s why we continued visiting her.

(By staying with her, maybe a little bit of that sadness and loneliness would lighten up.)

(But Daisy might have been struggling this entire time.)

Yet, we never realized that we had been hurting her.

Elbert: ...

Beside me, Elbert stared quietly at the door, not uttering a word.

(If we see her now, will Daisy end up suffering?)

(But... if we just stop visiting her without saying anything, that would surely make her more sad.)

(...Then, what about the blue poppy?)

We went through a lot to find it, but if we give this to her, she might end up feeling more sad.

Kate: ...I’m sorry, Lord Elbert.

K: Let’s... pretend we didn’t find it.

Elbert: ...Alright.

E: ...I agree.

When Daisy’s crying had calmed—

The one who had been listening to Daisy, who appeared to be one of the nurses, left, and we waited a while after that before we visited her.

We hid the frame with the blue poppy outside.

Kate: We’re so sorry! We couldn’t find the blue poppy.

Daisy: ...Aah, what a disappointment.

So that our lie wouldn’t be exposed, I apologized in an exaggerated manner, and as if to hide her red eyes, she scrunched up her face.

Kate: We promise we’ll find it tomorrow, for sure.

Daisy: Hehe. Are you sure you’ll be able to, before I die?

Seeing Daisy smile, I returned her gesture.

Elbert: ...

Lord Elbert simply stayed silent, looking after us.

The next day, we learned that there had been a sudden change in Daisy’s condition, and that she had drew her final breath.

The evening rays that signaled the end of today dyed the castle’s hallways red.

Feeling like there was a hole in my chest, I looked outside the window.

That was when I heard the sound of a single, relaxed footstep.

Elbert: There you are...

Kate: ...Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ...

As if sharing each other���s pain, a gentle silence fell.

That was how I knew Lord Elbert, too, had heard the news of Daisy’s passing.

Elbert: ...Kate.

E: Could you... lend me some of your time tonight?

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˗ˏˋ full masterlist ´ˎ˗ 🍎✨

[stormyoceans]

https://x.com/Itsjuzm3/status/1791131184400855192

I'm🪦⚱️⚰️

SLACK JAWED SHAKING OUT OF MY SKIN CRYING SHITTING YELLING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS FOAMING AT THE MOUTH THROWING UP BLOOD WHILE IN A DEAD FAINT ON THE FLOOR EXPERIENCING THE ENTIRE RANGE OF HUMAN EMOTIONS

THE WAY AT A FIRST GLANCE I THOUGHT THIS WAS A PAINTING AND HAD TO DO A DOUBLE TAKE WHEN I REALIZED IT’S AN ACTUAL LEGITIMATE HONEST TO GOD REAL PICTURE FROM JIMMYSEA’S NEW MAGAZINE PHOTOSHOOT??????????? MY GRASP ON THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS TOO LIMITED TO EVEN ATTEMPT TO PUT INTO WORDS THE STATE OF ABSOLUTE AWE IM CURRENTLY IN LIKE THE COLORS?????????? THE VISUALS?????????? LITERALLY A MASTERPIECE IT SHOULD BE FRAMED AND HUNG IN EVERY SINGLE ART MUSEUM ALL AROUND THE WORLD AND ALSO ON EVERY SINGLE WALL OF MY PADDED ROOM

[peternelthorpe]

Why its important to have an Integrated Marketing Plan for your business.

New Post has been published on https://wr1tepress.com/why-its-important-to-have-an-integrated-marketing-plan-for-your-business/

Why its important to have an Integrated Marketing Plan for your business.

An integrated marketing plan is the foundation of a great business plan. It allows for deeper understanding of your company surroundings, it prospect customers, and it industry current market trends. Companies are better able to grasp its businesss position in the market, and enter the market by pinpointing the areas of potential growth.

What kind of art do you like?

There are many opportunities to browse art within your community at local exhibitions, art fairs and galleries. Even small towns usually have a not-for-profit gallery space, or cafes and restaurant that exhibit local artists. In larger cities, galleries often get together for monthly or periodic “gallery nights” where all the galleries hold open house receptions on the same evening. Its a great way to see a lot of art in a short time.

Today the internet provides the largest variety and depth of fine art available worldwide. You can visit museum websites and see master works from ages past, check out online galleries for group shows, and visit hundreds of individual artists websites. One advantage of using the internet is that you can search for the specific kind of art you are interested in, whether its photography, impressionism, bronze sculpture, or abstract painting. And when you find one art site, youll usually find links to many, many more.

Should the art fit the room or the room fit the art?

If you feel strongly about a particular work of art, you should buy the art you love and then find a place to put it. But you may find that when you get the art home and place it on a wall or pedestal, it doesnt work with its surroundings. By not “working,” I mean the art looks out of place in the room. Placing art in the wrong surroundings takes away from its beauty and impact.

What should you do if you bring a painting home and it clashes with its environment? First, hang the painting in various places in your home, trying it out on different walls. It may look great in a place you hadnt planned on hanging it. If you cant find a place where the art looks its best, you may need to make some changes in the room, such as moving furniture or taking down patterned wallpaper and repainting in a neutral color. The changes will be worth making in order to enjoy the art you love.

Sometimes the right lighting is the key to showing art at its best. You may find that placing a picture light above a painting or directing track lighting on it is all the art needs to exhibit its brilliance. If you place a work of art in direct sunlight, however, be sure it wont be affected by the ultraviolet light. Pigments such as watercolor, pencil and pastel are especially prone to fading. Be sure to frame delicate art under UV protected glass or acrylic.

How to pick art to fit the room.

Size and color are the two major criteria for selecting art to fit its surroundings. For any particular space, art that is too large will overwhelm, and art that is too small will be lost and look out of proportion. The bolder the art, the more room it needs to breathe.

As a rule, paintings should be hung so that the center of the painting is at eye level. Sculpture may sit on the floor, a table, or pedestal, depending on the design. Rules should be considered guidelines only, however, so feel free to experiment.

When selecting a painting to match color, select one or two of the boldest colors in your room and look for art that has those colors in it. Youre not looking for an exact match here. Picking up one or two of the same colors will send a message that the painting belongs in this environment.

Another possibility for dealing with color is to choose art with muted colors, black-and-white art, or art that is framed in a way that mutes its color impact in the room. A wide light-colored mat and neutral frame create a protected environment for the art within.

Style is another consideration when selecting art to fit a room. If your house is filled with antiques, for example, youll want to use antique-style frames on the paintings you hang there. If you have contemporary furniture in large rooms with high ceilings, youll want to hang large contemporary paintings.

How to create an art-friendly room.

Think about it. When you walk into a gallery or museum, what do they all have in common? White walls and lots of light. If a wall is wall-papered or painted a color other than white, it limits the choices for hanging art that will look good on it. If a room is dark, the art will not show to its best advantage.

If you want to make art the center of attraction, play down the other elements of the room like window coverings, carpeting, wall coverings, and even furniture. A room crowded with other colors, textures and objects will take the spotlight away from the art. Follow the principle that less is more. Keep it spare and let the art star. Then relax and enjoy it.

Selecting and displaying art is an art in itself. Experiment to learn what pleases you and what doesnt. Youll be well-rewarded for the time you invest by finding more satisfaction both in the art and in your home.

[thewildwaffle]

Taxidermy

Another story prompt from an ao3 user who is a taxidermist. Also, yes, the main human in the story is wearing a cape because I think of most of my stories being in a somewhat near-ish future where capes have come back into widespread popular fashion. Why? Because I believe that we deserve as much.

*** *** ***

Kimit was excited to have received the invitation to the banquet at the human ambassador’s home. If being totally honest, there was also no small amount of nervousness included as well. This was going to be a big night. If all went well, the Garbon Homeworld would be rolling in riches and security. Ever since Earth’s discovery and induction into the galactic community, everyone had been scrambling to make alliances and deals with humans. Thankfully the humans had enough diverse factions that no one extraterrestrial group had been able to create a monopoly for the Earthling’s attention or resources. That didn’t mean there wasn’t intense competition, Kimit frowned and landed the shuttle in a designated drop-off area. A human standing next to a podium nodded and came up to the shuttle. Kimit had done research before coming and knew to exit the shuttle, leaving the engines running. The idea of valet parking was new and a bit strange to the young garbon, but Kimit had to admit, it felt fancy. Rounding a corner to what must be the front entrance, Kimit caught sight of other guests at the front door. Most of them were human, but there were a few fellow extraterrestrials in the mix. They were dressed in various fine clothing, some were in Earth styles, some were distinctly Burnti-influenced, and others weren’t as easily discernable while still keeping a decadent look to them. Their conversation sounded pleasant and warm. As soon as they noticed Kimit, the group parted a bit. Some walked into the open doors, while others continued with their greeting customs. A tall human in a dark cape and a yellow tunic with official-looking braidings and pins called out and waved welcomingly. That had to be the ambassador. Rocco Martinez. He looked just like the photos Kimit had studied in preparation. “Garbon Kimit!” Ambassador Martinez strode towards the much shorter Kimit and placed a hand on his chin with a nod. Of course, he would know the customary greetings of each of his guests.

“I’m honored to have you here,” he continued. “I've heard a lot about you from the board of directors at NearStar Tech." "Oh?" Kimit returned the shorter garbon greeting and then reached out for a human handshake. “All good things, I hope?” “Nothing but the best!” Kimit’s entire arm shook a bit from the ambassador’s handshake. He could tell that, had the human wanted to, he could crush every bone in Kimit’s hand with a tight enough squeeze. “Daaaaad!” A voice from beyond the open door called out. “Were you wanting me to start the tour, or should I wait?” Ambassador Marinez looked for the source of the voice. The other guests still mingling outside began filing in. “That would be my oldest. I’ll have to introduce you, I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions about your line of work she’ll want to ask. Loves learning, that one!” The ambassador chuckled and started following the rest of the crowd inside. “You’ve arrived just in time too. We were just about to start a tour of the house if you’d like to join?” What luck! Kimit smiled and followed “I’d love to.”

The Martinez household was, by all means and standards, absolutely lovely. Large windows gave a view of beautiful, lush, outdoor gardens and greeneries. The furniture was well-placed and looked incredibly comfortable. Framed paintings and photos hung tastefully along walls. As the tour commenced, the ambassador would often pause to explain the significance behind a particular piece of art, or point out and name family members in pictures, or the locations the photos were taken in. Kimit had taken tours of large businesses, art museums, and governing offices before, but touring a home like this was definitely a first. That being said, it felt almost like a tour of the aforementioned. There were quiet offices and studies, one with a rather impressive private library, meeting spaces, workshop, and studio space that must have been only recently cleaned as Kimit noticed a canvas atop an easel had paint that had not yet dried. There was a garage that had several cars, speeders, and recreational crafts. The ambassador took special pride in pointing out the tools that were still laid out around one vehicle in particular. It was a hover glider sail hybrid his daughter was in the middle of building from scratch. There was also a home theatre room, bedrooms and guest rooms, and a large, busy kitchen. They didn’t stay in the last room too long, not wanting to get in the way of any of the chefs or servers inside. “I think we have a bit more time, I could show you the patio area at least. We’ll just cut through the trophy room real quick,” The ambassador started herding the group of guests through another grand doorway. “You can see our gardens, they’re absolutely beautiful right now. My wife and sons have quite the ‘green thumb,’ if you’ll pardon the expression. They even grew some of the food we’ll be eating tonight!” Kimit felt a bit excited at that. Gardening was a popular hobby among garbons, often even becoming competitive to some of the more enthusiastic. A human garden would be quite the sight to experience! Following the crowd through what Ambassador Martinez had referred to as “the trophy room,” something caught Kimit’s eye. With a glance, the poor garbon’s heart froze.

Teeth. Teeth and claws. Terrible claws. Long, sharp, deadly claws rose in the air so they could be brought down with ripping force. The creature that owned those claws was broad and tall. The brute strength of its muscles was clear even under the thick, shaggy brown fur. How had such a beast gotten in here? How many had it mauled already? What was one supposed to do when faced with such a monstrous creature?!? 'Do I freeze or do I run?' 'Can it smell me?' 'If I stand really still will it notice me?' 'Wait, why are the walls covered in animal heads?' Apparently, Kimit was not the only one in the group to be thinking along these lines. Several in the group, mostly non-human, stood petrified where they stood. A few of the humans paused, but only looked around, curious at the sight. “I didn’t know you were such a hunter,” one human in the middle of the group commented. Kimit wasn’t sure who said it exactly, but their voice seemed to snap the others out of their terror. The ambassador paused and turned around to his guests behind him. “Oh yes! Not so much anymore with the new job, but we used to go on a few hunting trips ever so often. A few of the antlers up there are mine. Those ducks up there are ones my son Bernie and I got two years ago.”

“And the bear?” The same human asked. “That’s actually one that my wife’s father got years and years ago.” It was only then that Ambassador Martinez finally picked up on the state of many in the group. “Oh, yes, so sorry everyone! I didn’t even think about-,” the color of the ambassador’s face darkened slightly as he stepped into the center of the room so he could better face the entire group. “None of the animals in here are alive, you are all perfectly safe. These are all taxidermied animals that my family has either hunted or had a special connection or interest in.” The humans and a few others in the group nodded. The rest of the group, Kimit included, just stared at the ambassador with a mixture of confusion and unease. “Dad, maybe we should take everyone outside through a different door?” the ambassador’s daughter offered from what had been the front of the group.

“No, it’s fine, we’re already right here. I just didn’t even think about scaring anyone with these guys, just so used to them, I guess,” Ambassador Martinez ran a hand through the fur of the bear creature standing next to him. It was taller than he was, but it didn’t move. It wasn’t alive, Kimit was calming down from the initial scare. “I know this may seem like a strange custom to some of you, but taxidermy is an art form where someone takes an armature and stuffing and mounts the furs we provide them with to make things like these.” Ambassador Martinez gestured to the life-like animal statues and heads around the room. “And is this is,” one of the other guests, a confused-looking donkun, ventured, “some sort of ritual humans do after the… death… of particular animals?” “Um, kind of?” the ambassador’s daughter shook her head and paused, unsure of how to explain. She looked at her father. Her father took over the explanation. “Well, I guess in a way, it could be? It’s not a ritual in the way that everyone does this or has to do this. We don’t always taxidermy what we catch. These were done because they were uncommon or had special memories associated with them. We wanted to remember them, what they looked like, and what the hunt was like, and in a way, it preserves our memories as well as the remains of the animal. “Sometimes people will taxidermy a beloved pet after it dies so that it’s almost like they’re still there with them in a way. Some people will also use taxidermies for museums and educational purposes to better display and study different animals. That’s especially helpful if the animal in question is, say, extinct, or there aren’t many living ones left to study.”

“That makes sense,” Kimit nodded and then paused. There were so many questions to be asked, but one, in particular, felt bothersome. How to ask this without coming off as judgemental or offensive? “But about the ones here, the ones, uh, the ones you and your family hunted?” “Yes?” “What happens to them, uh… I mean, do you… are they just hunted for display?” Ambassador Martinez blinked for a moment like he was digesting the question for a moment before a smile broke across his face. “Oh, no. Everything we hunt we also eat. And then whatever we don’t eat, gets used in other ways, and nothing goes to waste. We're very focused on sustainably around here," he reassured. Well, that was good, Kimit thought and nodded to show understanding. It seemed pretty much everyone else in the tour group also seemed to be a bit more at ease with that information. Still, Kimit took another glance around the room as the crowd shuffled out the door to the gardens, this room was quite unsettling. Especially that big creature. That bear thing.

Okay, yes, humans lived on the same planet with creatures like that, but was another thing altogether that humans went out of their way to cross paths with them! The newly revealed fact that they went a step further and decorated their homes with realistic facsimiles of the beasts… wow. Just wow. What the frewan would they think of next?!

Ambassador Martinez had seemed genuinely flustered that he had in any way troubled his guests by taking them through the taxidermy room. However, part of Kimit had to wonder if it was some sort of intimidation tactic. There were a lot of representatives and business leaders here looking to make whatever deals they could with the ambassador's people. Now, there wasn't a soul in the present group that wasn't made very much aware of exactly who they were dealing with: Humans who not only hunted beasts several times their size and power but then used their pelts to adorn their homes. And yet, the ambassador seemed so friendly and welcoming that those suspicions almost seemed a bit too farfetched. In any case, if this was just the tour of the house, Kimit could only wonder what else was planned for the evening.

[bahorell]

Les Amis (& co.) and the stuff they have on their walls

Enjolras: Pictures of his friends. I loved this idea so much I had to expand on it so it’s the shortest paragraph here but he’ll have his own post in a couple days I PROMISE

Combeferre: He has framed bugs!!! They are mostly moths but he also has some really rare expensive beetles that he’s gotten for Christmas. One winter break when he really had nothing going on he did a bunch of research on what all of the bugs were and has little hand-written pieces of paper taped to the wall underneath the bugs with all the info like a little MUSEUM OMG it’s literally the cutest thing. And if you’ve never been to his place before he makes you pick which one if your favorite.

Courfeyrac: Has a bunch of plants all over the walls. They’re so big that he has nails in the walls and any vining plants he’ll hang the vines on the walls so they look like they’re crawling up the walls. He also strategically places big plants like any trees he has or Monsteras in corners or next to dressers. He really doesn’t like putting too much stuff on his walls because he thinks it’s a lot of commitment. He doesn’t really have a lot of printed pictures of his friends and he doesn’t really have enough art to fill a wall space without making it look awkward. 

Joly: Joly is one of those really really cool guys that glues and frames all of the puzzles he finishes. Every time he goes somewhere he’s never been before he’ll go into a little tourist shop and buy the biggest puzzle he can find (the more pieces the better). There’s a separate table in the living room that he sits at and works on his puzzle at while he watches Grey’s Anatomy. He’s always rearranging things because he likes everything to have a you know that feng shui so his walls have a bunch of nail holes in them. He’s also quickly running out of wall space because now his friends have started gifting him puzzles as well. 

Jehan: Jehan LOVES to collect calendars! But not just like… monthly calendars. They have moon phase calendars, lunisolar calendars, a really really cool mayan calendar replica, a roman calendar, seasonal calendar for things like when to plant and harvest fruits and veggies!, a crystal calendar, a japanese calendar… They really like to look at how different things look from different perspectives. The months look different on a seasonal calendar than they do on a “standard” calendar. It reminds them that they have more control over their time than they think they do. Bousset: Movie posters!!!! He has posters of all his favorite movies but he really is a sucker for the movie posters that are in a retro style. He tries to make sure to buy frames for all of the posters he has because he doesn’t want them to get ruined. He’s scared not only because he has bad luck but because all of his friends are slobs and if they come over you know someone is going to somehow get beer or lasagna on the wall and some of the posters were like limited edition and he CANNOT have them ruined. He also dusts them p regularly.

Feuilly: Feuilly collects but also makes a bunch of wood art that he is very proud of. Usually when he makes something he’ll keep the first draft of it since it isn’t polished enough for him to feel like he can try to sell it. It’s not very often he can find Purple Heart stuff but when he does he really struggles to say no if it’s out of his budget. Also he has a few pieces of moss art that he ADORES

Bahorel: Collects a bunch of small random things that he finds. Pretty much he thinks if he CAN hang it on a wall that he SHOULD hang it on a wall. There’s art pieces, cards he’s gotten from people, business cards that have a cute design on them, he has a shit ton of command strips that hang things like lanyards, his go-to jackets for easy access, his towel when he doesn’t feel like walking back to the bathroom to hang it up after he’s showered. He also has like 5 sets of mini battery powered string lights that he leaves on whenever he’s not sleeping (he spends a lot of money on batteries) 

Grantaire: His walls kinda work as his sketchbook when he’s home. He’s found that sometimes working on a vertical surface instead of a horizontal surface helps get the gears turning in his head. It makes him a little frustrated sometimes because he’ll have a whole piece that’s done on one of his walls and then he basically has to repeat yet and put it back on paper but it doesn’t feel the same. Since his walls are pretty much a free-for-all, all of the amis have painted something on them at some point. He tries not to paint over those spots but sometimes he has to. 

Marius: Marius has a bunch of shadow boxes of stuff. Most of them are antique items like he has a shadow box that has about 50 unused boxes of matches that are from all over the world, he has a shadow box of antique flies for fly fishing. He’s never fly fished before but seeing the colors on the flies makes him want to try it at least once. He makes most of them himself also! He has one that has a bunch of wine corks in it that he had been collecting for awhile. And he has one that has one item from each Ami that he asked them to contribute to. His favorite tho is the shadow box that is filled with metal caps from soda bottles. It was the first one he made and a lot of the caps he got one summer he spent with his dad when he was a kid trying to find the best brand of soda for each flavor.

Eponine: Eponine doesn’t have a lot of stuff on her walls, she never really has but ever since she got her apartment and moved out of her parents place she got a few art pieces. They aren’t framed or anything, she always thinks that if something happens and she has to move out of her place that big framed art pieces will just be one more thing she has to worry about. It never happens and she’s accumulated enough pieces that eventually she saves up some money and gets most of them framed. 

Cosette: When she was a kid her dad bought her a really beautiful wall quilt that she never took off her wall even if she was cold. They’re pretty expensive and she’s managed to collect a few other larger quilts but she also has signed up for classes at a local quilt shop and has a couple small little baby quilts she’s done as practice that she hung up. They make her so proud and she’s loved looking at how her skills have improved since she started!

Musichetta: Musichetta doesn’t have too much stuff on her walls. She has a couple pieces that are really pretty that she has framed, but one of her walls she doesn’t ever hang stuff on because a couple years ago she bought some super cool bright wallpaper that has a bunch of citrus fruits on it. It really adds a bunch of color to her apartment and even in the winter helps makes the place feel warm and bright. 

Gavroche: Gav has two of his walls covered in chalkboard paint! He does his homework on them sometimes but mostly he uses them to draw little doodles. One of the walls he hasn’t touched in months because Feuilly and Grantaire worked together on a super big mural for it that took them like 3 days. Gav won’t ever erase it but he has bumped into it enough times that it’s getting pretty smudged. Plus he figures if he erases it they can just do another one. But because he has chalkboard walls he doesn’t really have anything else on his walls. He maybe has one or two pictures on the last wall that isn’t being taken up by chalkboard or closet doors. 

[mattsvn]

Nostalgia.

Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

Summary: A summer after graduation finds Iwaizumi Hajime halfway across the globe, sitting in a lecture hall and staring at a golden dome that reminds him of the world and his place in it. Or, the lack thereof.

Genre: Slight angst to fluff. Character introspection, self discovery!

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none.

A/N: Guess who’s crying :smiley: Okay, so I got inspired by this tik tok, check it out, show the artist some love, and adding to another idea I had this came up, I hope you guys like it!  ALSO, that beautiful summary was suggested by @meliorist-midoriya​ !!!​ Repost from my old blog, this is on my favorite fics ever written hehe

There is something distinctive about the traces left by people in the places they inhabited. Whether intentional or not, to enter a house that was once occupied is to step into an unknown life, where all that remains are the lines drawn on the wall frames, with random dates, leaving a record of someone’s growth.

A part of the wall with a lighter color, where photographs once hung and the trace of old drawings on the wall could be seen even if you paid close attention. Seeing the home you had lived in for years empty, lifeless or without its distinctive smell caused an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe, how was that atmosphere created again, with spotless walls, perfect floors and the lack of human warmth?

You weren’t afraid of living alone, you were afraid of having a lonely life.

It was frightening to think that the apartment you had just bought might feel like it was inhabited by a ghost, with no trace that anyone had ever been there. One way or another you wanted to make that space, with only two rooms and one bathroom, feel like your home, even if it was just you, even if you would only live there for a few months.

So, amidst the worry about establishing a home and hundreds of paperwork, came the first day of college, one more step to adapt to, the breaking of a routine you had just begun to create.

There was no better way to start that school year than by being on time, so, at least for the first week, you tried to be there early enough. It gave you time to get through the school buildings, and to finish your coffee just before the first class started.

Thursday arrived, with the first class being Medieval Art, not usually a subject that caught the attention of many, so it was common to see empty seats. Still, as usual, you were planning on choosing the seat right next to the window, where the sunlight illuminated your notes, but that day, it seemed that someone already occupied that place.

You sat next to him, there was no reason not to share the table, didn’t pay attention to him, it seemed that the boy was taking a nap a few minutes before class, probably he had a class before that one, or he was just tired. The teacher settled into her seat, and you glanced sideways, only to see that the boy was still asleep, not moving.

“One day, the architect, Frank Gehry said: architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness” she began, while behind her appeared the image of a building you had heard too much about. “I think one of the best representations of this is Hagia Sofia” she continued, showing the image of that beautiful golden dome behind her, she kept talking.

As the guy next to you opened his eyes, sleepily he took a deep breath, concentrating on the image in front of him, with some concern he took the supplies from his backpack to take notes for the class, he seemed lost, confused and, in general, tired, like he was there by mistake, or, against his will.

Iwaizumi was not usually like this. Before moving to the United States, he had never been late for a class, he was the type of person who kept everything in order, always punctual, with notes in order and an impeccable grade. A role model in every sense of the word, student, athlete and perfect son.

But as soon as he arrived from his flight, tired to the bone and affected by jet lag, he slept as much as he could, only to wake up in the early morning, stunned by the different time zone he could not fall asleep at the right time, he still couldn’t get used to the food offered there, and he was unable to find the ingredients he would commonly use in Miyagi to eat.

People drove on the left seat, and the road was on the right side, they used to eat on the street without any concern, or on the way to their jobs and schools, nor did there seem to be manners in public transportation, at least no the ones he knew. There were words that confused him, and the symbols on the streets made his head spin.

People did not have the same habits he knew, and he noticed that after only a couple of days after moving in. By the time school started, Iwaizum was still trying to sleep at the time he was used to and didn’t make it until two or three in the morning, so, it resulted in waking up late and sleeping in between classes, he still wasn’t used to having his notes in English, so his handwriting looked weird, the teachers spoke too fast for him to understand, therefore, his notes were all over the place

Not to mention how unpunctual they were, he found himself a couple of times arriving late to class, only to find out that the teacher wasn’t there, and that it would probably take them twenty minutes more to arrive, and sometimes, they would cancel the class when you were already there, just because.

Even in the classes he looked forward the most, he found himself tired, bored, easily distracted, and he expected the same from this one, a subject he had taken only to complete his units. But, when he opened his eyes, he swore he had never seen anything as beautiful as that. A gorgeous dome of gleaming gold, with light streaming in through the windows and the distinctive marks of history on its walls.

It took him a few seconds to listen to the professor properly, as he was still impressed with what he saw on the projector, there was nothing that did not interest him, from the columns to that painting of the Virgin Mary, an impeccable marble floor, and, the mixture of both religions on its walls was perhaps what left him most curious of all that he had seen.

There was nothing like that in Japan, or at least not that he remembered. Byzantine architecture had that distinctive feature in which it left you mesmerized for a moment, he was so enraptured by it that he didn’t notice that there was someone sitting next to him, taking notes of the things the teacher was saying, with a slightly frown, concentrating, and different pens scattered around the table. The teacher continued talking, still detailing how a building created almost fifteen hundred years ago remained one of the finest constructions in human history.

Hagia Sofia, she read from the blackboard. He wrote down the title in a slightly disorganized way, along with the rest of the words on the board.

Hagia Sofia, meaning: holy wisdom. Constantinople, now Istanbul.

“Long before what we now know, the Byzantine Empire took place in what is now Istanbul, the capital of this empire is perhaps one of the most important historical and architectural sites of the Medieval Era, this was the largest known church  for about a thousand years. It has been used as a church, a mosque and now serves as a museum.” She explained, showing the various images of the building. ”There were two later constructions after this, one destroyed in a fire and the second in the Niká riots, then, in the year 532 construction began on what we now know as Hagia Sofia.“

"Wow” Iwazumi sighed, absently sketching the shape of the building.

“I won’t tell you much about this building, at least not for now,” said the teacher, pausing for a moment to look at the picture. “I want an essay on this topic, and I would like you to gather in pairs for it.” she asked them. “I just want your opinions and analysis on the things that are most important to you about the place and what you think is meant to be represented by these, either imagery or architecture. Your partner will be the person who is closest to you, starting with the two of you, at the bottom.”

You looked at Iwaizumi out of the corner of your eye, having to work with people you didn’t know was always a problem, but, you hoped it wouldn’t be like that this time. He also looked at you, a little relieved thinking that you would surely know something about Medieval Architecture, not like him, who felt totally lost in that new subject. Even so, he returned his gaze to the front, memorizing every detail of that dome in his mind.

The class continued, with the teacher talking about historical processes in the fifth century and the topics that would be taken throughout the course, Hajime could not help but see the excitement that certain topics caused you, especially with the mention of some gothic buildings. And so, in the blink of an eye, the class was over, and before he realized it, you were already grabbing your things to leave.

“My next class is Historical Theory, what’s yours? We can organize on the way” you said, looking at him for a second while you closed your backpack. Iwaizumi tried to put his belongings away as quickly as possible, but failed a bit with his clumsy movements. “What’s your major?"

"Oh, Sports Science,” he replied. Your reaction was as expected: confusion, what was a sports science major doing in a medieval art class? “All the other classes were busy and I needed some extra units.”

“Oh, I see” you nodded, walking out of the classroom with him walking beside you.

“What’s your major?” he asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t asked that before.

“Art History” you replied, with a smile. “By the way, my name is y/n” you said, extending your hand, he received it, still not used to the way people introduced themselves there, but little by little he was starting to adjust to it.

“Iwaizumi Hajime” he cleared his throat, here they speak by first names, not last names, you idiot, he said to himself in his mind. “Hajime.”

“So, Hajime, you didn’t organize your classes on time, you take naps before class, and you don’t know anything about Medieval Art” you jokingly commented. “We have quite a bit to learn, don’t you think?”

“Uh… y-yes” he nodded, stopping when you did, not even realizing how far he had walked. “I won’t let you do all the work, if that’s what you’re worried about” he assured, it seemed they were in front of the door to your next class the moment you stopped and looked at the door, Iwaizumi didn’t want to take up your time, but he had no idea what to say either.

“Well, how about we meet in the library later this week? You can give me your number so we can schedule the day” you hoped the professor wouldn’t come to the classroom while you were talking to  Iwaizumi, as he seemed like a very nice person, despite how nervous he was.

“Sure, I have the whole afternoon off tomorrow, is that okay?” you nodded, extending your phone to him so he could write down his number and name, to your luck, he returned it just in time.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll text you as soon as my class is over” you said, saying goodbye and entering just before the teacher, who closed the door behind himself.

Iwaizumi stared at the door for a few seconds, letting out a sigh,then, he walked to his next class. It felt awfully strange to walk around campus alone, with no one by his side. Maybe he had gotten too used to spending his free time with the rest of his friends in highschool, and, at times like these, where he was waiting for a message from a cute girl, he couldn’t help but think about how much he missed them.

He was alone, and that was terrifying.

Iwaizumi looked at his phone for the third time in an hour, the class, food chemistry, was just short of making him fall asleep, yet he couldn’t help but look at his phone and wonder at what point the cute girl in the Medieval Art class would send him a message.

She didn’t until almost four hours later, just as Iwaizumi had recently returned to his apartment and was working on a long assignment for the rest of the week. Ignoring the sound of a message at first, thinking it was probably Oikawa bugging him about some new thing he learned in Argentina, so, he didn’t look at his phone until a couple of minutes later, when a second message came through.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, I’ve been a little busy, but this is my number!”

“My last class ends at 2:00 p.m., do you mind if I meet you at that time in the library?”

He answered almost immediately, regretting later for doing it so quickly, you look like a desperate idiot, he thought. To his luck, as soon as he locked the phone, the screen lit up again with the reply.

It seemed that after that things flowed perfectly, even though before he met her they would have seemed like inconveniences to him, now they looked as an opportunity. The professor for tomorrow’s class informed them that he was out of town, so his classes would start until the following week, which gave Iwaizumi a chance to continue with his homework calmly, and, to get ready to see the pretty girl the next day, maybe even sleep properly that night.

However, nothing went as he planned.

Again, he found himself staring at the ceiling at midnight, without any possibility of being able to fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. That wasn’t his bed, nor his sheets or his favorite pillow, it wasn’t his wall or the window overlooking his backyard. As he stared at the empty, flat ceiling, he wondered why he couldn’t at least see a golden dome so he would have something to think about while he tried to sleep.

And so he woke up quite late, much later than he was used to. Maybe his body took the opportunity to recover all his lost energy, he had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he woke up thirty minutes before the agreed time with the pretty girl, and, it took fifteen minutes to get to the library from where he was.

He sent as many messages as he could while getting dressed and trying to look as presentable as possible. At least it wasn’t strange to see people running around campus, although it was in the first few weeks of school, where no one was really worried about anything.

“I told you I could wait a while” you mentioned, Iwaizumi was standing in front of her, trying to control his breathing, visibly agitated for having run all the way to the library. “Tell me you at least ate something” you murmured, in a way to accept his apology, then he sat on the free seat in front of you, trying to avoid that questioning.

“I can eat something later, sorry I was late” he apologized, again, he expected you to be upset, but you weren’t, instead, the first thing he saw was a reassuring smile, you hadn’t been more than ten minutes late, so, there was really no problem. “Again, I’m sorry, I was…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Iwaizumi. You were only ten minutes late, I’ve known people who take an hour to show up” the boy looked at the table for the first time, it was almost like the mess she had in yesterday’s class, only now it had several open books around it. “My class ended early so I went ahead to research an assignment I had, don’t you want to go get something to eat before we start?”

“I’d rather do this and then I can eat something, I wouldn’t want to waste your time even more” he replied, it was too obvious that he still didn’t quite master English, or maybe he did but he was quite embarrassed about how it was that he pronounced things. “I’ve never had this happen to me before, I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay? Seriously, but why are you late? If you say it doesn’t usually happen to you” Iwaizumi looked towards the window with a frown, he felt like he would spend an embarrassment for that, because, sleeping late was not a good excuse, actually, nothing was a good excuse for his lateness, but still, he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re coming in with a hangover?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just… I’m still not used to the time change here and I’m used to sleeping at a totally different time” he said, though there was more to it.

The insomnia was only a collateral result of how he felt, and perhaps what kept him most irritable. Perhaps he had chosen that change too quickly, or the feeling was probably something that would fade with time. But he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t quite connected to reality, like he was living a strange dream. The routine he had worked on for years that kept him safe was gone, and was now out of his reach.

He missed going out every Tuesday for lunch with Oikawa, Makki and Mattsun. He missed walking to school and greeting his neighbors, or the way Oikawa’s older sister squeezed his cheeks, even though he said how much he detested it, he missed the karaoke he went to once a month and his mother’s food, hell, he even missed Oikawa’s obnoxious nephew.

“So, where are you from? Moving is hard enough, I can’t imagine doing it from another country” he looked at her, realizing she was genuinely concerned and curious, she meant it. The sincerity brought him calm, enough to say what he felt.

“Japan, I just got here a couple of weeks ago, I still don’t understand much and my English isn’t the best so I’m not having the best time” he pointed out, as he picked up his notebook, watching as she jotted something down on the computer, adding a document to start the essay. “Not to be rude, but your culture is really weird.”

“You don’t have to tell me, it is. But you end up getting used to it, don’t you? I find people’s behavior patterns depending on their culture interesting” Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed that there was already a book on Byzantine architecture on the table, which showed a picture of Hagia Sophia from the outside. “Besides, it’s normal to miss your hometown, don’t you think, what did you most like to do there?”

“Playing volleyball with my friends” he answered without hesitation, for it was true. He missed every detail of it, from the practices, to the coach yelling at his teammates to the games, even the ones he lost.

“Oh, were they on a team together?” she put the computer aside, devoting her full attention to him. Iwaizumi nodded, ready to talk about all the amazing things his team had. “Were you guys good?”

“Well, yes. At least within reason, we were. We never made it to nationals, but within our prefecture we were very good” he nodded, still feeling the bitter taste of defeat on the tip of his tongue as if it had happened yesterday, his last chance to go to nationals ended before it even started.

“And what position did you play?” he questioned, Iwaizumi picked up the book on the table solely to have something to distract himself with.

“Uh, wing spiker. I was the ‘ace’ of the school, but of course, I couldn’t be any of it without Oikawa."

"Oikawa?”

The conversation did not stop since then, between readings, corrections and stories about his high school, Iwaizumi did not even realize that almost three hours had passed, three hours in which he could not believe what he saw in images, despite all the fear he had, all the nostalgia that accumulated inside him, seeing that building in Constantinople brought him a peace that he could not manage to understand, no matter how much he wondered what was going on.

Although it didn’t compare to how the pretty girl explained things, he should probably stop referring to her as the pretty girl and start calling her by her name, as he ended up forgetting it, and every time she said his name, he blamed himself for not remembering hers. He learned everything he wanted to know in one afternoon, thanks to her, the semi domes, the atrium, every detail, structural and artistic there, he memorized it with her voice, melodious, calm, safe.

After making a couple of questions, he lost his fear of asking what he was seeing, because, as she told him, “no one knows everything, there will always be someone who knows something you don’t”. So, he ended up engaged in a conversation about the wonders of medieval architecture and no more than ten minutes later, the conversation drifted to the karaoke that his friends loved, or the park where he and Oikawa learned to play volleyball.

Life at the university became more bearable thanks to her, Iwaizumi heard the story of how she had just moved out of her parents’ house, how they also moved out of their house and the pain it caused her to leave the home she loved empty. She enjoyed knitting, watching movies and listening to new music all the time. In a couple of weeks, he discovered her favorite food, and the kind of clothes she liked best, the movies that made her cry and the ones that made her die laughing, and with each thing he learned, she asked him the same questions. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer, or what people used to say, it made him wonder if he seemed like a nice person or someone who would be interesting to spend time with.

Tuesdays of going out to eat became Tuesdays of organized movies in the dorms, once-a-month karaokes became visits to museums instead of his neighbors, now he was greeting his roommates every morning, now the cute girl in Medieval Art class was the one squeezing his cheeks, it seemed that, little by little, everything was starting to be as he knew it.

Or at least that’s what he thought

“But what do you like, Iwaizumi?” she asked him on a sunny afternoon where sunlight illuminated her room and there was a random movie on TV as the background noise, around her a lot of snacks and fried food, that’s what Saturdays were like, relaxed and sunny. “I almost feel like I know Oikawa like you do, but you don’t tell me much about yourself.”

“Huh?” he asked, doubtful, hadn’t he been talking about himself all that time, or had he only thought he was? “I don’t know what you want to know about me.”

“I want to know who you are, beyond all your friends and the people in your life.I know what Oikawa likes and how many fans he had or the perfect settings he did, but I want to know about you.” she told him.

She didn’t know if it was because the girl was an art enthusiast, or if she just hadn’t met someone who wanted to know more about him for her own pleasure, for what she felt was inexplicable.

“Well, well… with my team” he began, stopping the moment he saw the look on the girl’s face, who could only thus make him feel as if he were a scolded child. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, confused as to what it was he should say.

“Who are you, Iwaizumi, what do you like, what song do you like the most? I don’t want to know about other people, I want to know about you, about what makes you who you are.” She began, the moment only seemed more special with the way the sun was shining on her skin and her smile seemed to shine even brighter than it always did. “I know you’re a good teammate, a good son, a good friend, but who are you, what are the qualities that you have?”

He looked into her eyes, how many times hadn’t he stopped to look into those beautiful eyes that stole his breath, or those lips that said the cutest yet most painful things?“

"Iwaizumi. I want you to tell me the story that you have, like Hagia Sophia, do you remember all the marks that it has? the mix of everything that lies in you? There is so much history in who you are beyond your friends, I want to know if you are happy or if you like ice cream, how you react to things. I hope you understand me, it’s okay to like things that your friends do or showed you, but I don’t think it should be all that you are, so, who are you?”

Still not taking his eyes off her, he remembered every detail of the building he studied for weeks, the religious motifs and art on its walls, the history even in the broken parts of the floor, or those portions where the paint was completely gone. And, with tears in his eyes, he replied:

“I don’t know.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

And he really didn’t know, he had lived so long being a friend, son, teammate and neighbor that, little by little, without realizing it, he stopped prioritizing the things that to him and only to him made him happy.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about it” she murmured in the same way, very close to him as if she were telling him a secret. “Find out who you are.”

And just like that, the first picture of the two of you decorated your wall, along with some paint smudges from a sunny afternoon, a canvas, and some brushes, and a volleyball mark at first. Two wrongs can make a right, your mother would say. You, in search of rebuilding your space, and he, in search of himself.

You couldn’t have picked a better time than that, or a better life than that.

taglist: @sugas-sweetheart @kirislut @hannahalanib1 @goopyartiste @yee-harr @ohno-grapes @peach-pops @meliorist-midoriya @milktyama @majestic-sea-flip-flop @starlessnyx @tanakasimpcorner @msbyslugg @ordinary-ace @boosyboo9206

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (7)

Con Artist AU. masterlist. 

Content Warning: swearing, PTSD, violence, sex

Before we get started here, you all need to know that Flawless will be going on a mini-hiatus. This chapter is the end of my original outline, and I need to spend some time planning out the next plot arc before I write the next chapter. 

(Also, shoutout to the lovely humans who translated the line in French. Y’all are the real MVPs.)

Anyway, this is it. The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The heist. It feels so surreal to finally write it. As always, thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. ❤

*****

In the shadow of its brightly illuminated landmarks, Paris hummed to the tune of debauchery. 

Paparazzi gathered around the Louvre’s glass pyramid, waiting to capture a clear picture of a celebrity guest entering the afterparty. Riley shielded her face with her clutch as she walked in, careful to remain unidentifiable in the barrage of photos. The gold buttons on her emerald jacket-dress caught the warm light emanating from the pyramid and the bright camera flashes. She was well dressed, but not enough to stand out. Tonight, Riley needed to blend in. 

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure the loose curls covered her earpiece. For the sake of stealth, the team’s comms were skin color, but they were Nikki and Cage’s skin color, not Riley’s. 

Riley was half-tempted to throw her comms into one of the fountains out of spite. 

She was the last of the Five Eyes to arrive. They staggered their arrivals to avoid being associated with one another, as a precaution. Pulse thrumming in anticipation, Riley bounced on her toes slightly as she waited in line to check in. The Louvre security team meticulously checked each guest’s ID against the guest list; there would be no party crashers tonight. 

It had been all too easy for Riley to add the Five Eyes’ cover identities to the guest list a week ago. Now, she handed the stone-faced security guard a drivers’ license bearing her face and the name “Danika Jackson.” Returning her ID with a nod, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Riley to enter the party. 

Everyone is responsible for their own entrance and exit. That was her new rule. She got everyone’s names added to the guest list, but her assistance ended there. If someone ran into trouble, it was on them to bail themselves out. 

Riley had learned that rule from her mentor when she first dipped her toes into the world of two-faced schemes and nimble-fingered cons, but she never truly understood it—or saw the need to enforce it—until she felt the bite of handcuffs digging into her wrists. 

It was a mistake she’d never make again. 

Riley strolled through the hallway bearing massive Italian paintings, slowly making her way to the room containing the most overrated painting of all time—and the rendezvous point. 

The Mona Lisa room was empty aside from a blonde woman in a beaded, blood-red cocktail dress standing much too close to the glass-encased painting. Riley stood to the woman’s right and studied the painting as well. It was underwhelming. 

“You’d think the most beautiful woman in art would be wearing a prettier dress,” Nikki remarked.

Riley snorted, crossing her arms. “Says the woman who just bought a four-thousand-dollar cheetah print pantsuit.”

Nikki feigned offence. “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull it off. Anyway, quiz time. What year did da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?” 

“1503,” Riley answered easily. “And the woman’s name is Lisa del Giocondo.” Nikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s that look for?” 

“I didn’t think you actually listen when I talk about art.” 

Riley offered her friend a small smile. “I’m always listening to you.” The sound of heels clicking down the hall made them pause. When the coast was clear, Riley murmured, “Is everyone in position?”

“Yeah. Desi and Sam should be inside already, and Jill checked in a few guests in front of me.”

“How did that go?”

“Easy peasy.” Nikki glanced at Riley and softened her tone. “Are we sure Jill is ready for this?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Don’t forget, it was your idea to recruit her.”

Nikki turned back to the Mona Lisa. “You know, you really do suck at pep talks.” 

“Oh shut up.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want control room duty?” 

Nikki spared her a sideways glance. “I’ll do it. You did it last time.” Her second sentence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the job gone horribly wrong. And a reminder of all the things they still hadn’t talked about. 

Riley brushed it aside. They could talk after they were each forty million dollars richer. 

Pulling a flash drive hidden inside an old lipstick tube out of her clutch, Riley instructed, “Plug this in, and it’ll do half the work for you.” 

“Thanks.” Nikki put the tube in her own purse. “See you on the other side.” 

“Don’t get caught.” 

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki parroted, and Riley strode down the hall toward the party.

She followed the pulsing music and the stream of guests to a room in the far corner of the museum, passing the employee door Nikki would sneak into along the way. Crossing the threshold, she couldn’t conceal her gasp. Riley had seen plenty of opulent rooms over the years, but the Galerie d’Apollon was something else entirely. Gold moulding framed the dozens of paintings covering the walls and the arched ceiling. Display cases containing the French Crown Jewels formed a line down the middle of the rectangular room. Despite the party’s couture dress code, the bedazzled guests looked entirely underdressed compared to the grandeur of the gallery.

She only let herself be awestruck for a few seconds before getting to work, marking the exits and security cameras. Riley didn’t like how deep the gallery was in the museum—and how far she would have to walk to make a clean escape with the jewels. 

She would be the one walking out with them. No one else. Riley had made that crystal clear during the team planning meeting a few days ago. 

Draped in black fabric, the case containing the designer jewelry sat in the middle of the gallery. A security guard stood by it, no doubt to ward off nosey guests wanting a sneak peek. 

A wave of nausea passed through her, reminding Riley that the closest thing to a substantial meal she’d eaten all day was the two pastries she ate a few hours ago. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, heading for the snack table. Jill was already there, gorging herself on bread and cheese. Eyes wide, the blonde froze as Riley sidled next to her, evidently thinking she was in trouble. 

But Riley simply reached for a piece of bread and asked, “Which cheese is the best?” 

Exhaling audibly, Jill pointed a manicured, light blue nail. “That one.” Riley tried it. Jill was right; it was delicious. 

“You ready, Blondie?” Riley asked, lowering her voice. “There’s no job unless you get this right.” 

Jill rolled her shoulders back, snarking, “No pressure or anything.” There was a bite to her words, one Riley noticed only came out when someone, namely her, pushed the blonde a little too far. 

“Sorry,” Riley said, and she meant it. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. Commit.” 

Jill merely nodded, swallowing another piece of cheese. 

Riley wandered off, not wanting to stay with Jill too long. With her back to a wall, she scanned the room in search of Desi and Cage. When she didn’t see them on her first sweep, Riley furrowed her brow. Where the hell were they? 

A bright laugh carried across the room—Cage. There you are, Riley thought. She spied her teammate enjoying the spotlight in the center of a group of models all cooing over Cage’s pale pink dress. It suited Cage, with its billowy sleeves and flowy skirt that hit just below her knees. Cage giggled again, putting her hand on a woman’s shoulder a little too boldly for the gesture to be casual. 

Predictably, Desi wasn’t far away, staring daggers at her shameless flirt of a girlfriend. 

Riley unmuted her comms. “Easy there, Des. It’s just an act.” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she snapped. Even from a distance, Riley could see Desi’s tight grip on her champagne flute. 

Riley cooed, “So jealous.” 

The woman wrapped a proprietary arm around Cage, clearly welcome to the blonde’s advances, and Cage beamed at her. 

It was enough to push Desi over the edge. “Don’t forget whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight, Samantha,” she snarled. “And I don’t remember agreeing to share.” 

Cage excused herself from the group. “My love, did it ever occur to you that I’m making you jealous on purpose? Because we both know—”

Nikki cut her off, rescuing the team from whatever filthy thing was about to come out of Cage’s mouth. “Don’t be gross, you two.” Riley stifled a laugh. She and Nikki had been subjected to many things they didn’t want to hear over the years. This would hardly faze her now.

Focus. They needed to focus. 

Riley finally spotted the sharp-eyed assistant she noticed at the runway show. Always two steps behind the designer, the young woman obediently trailed him as he floated from group to group. The assistant finished her drink, setting it on the tray of a passing waiter, and strode toward the main hallway in this wing of the museum. 

“I think she’s going to the bathroom,” Jill said. “Do I follow her?” 

Snagging a drink of her own, Riley answered, “No. Bump into her when she comes back.” She watched Jill make her way toward the far side of the gallery, ready to intercept the assistant and steal her keys. 

Everything was going to plan. Jill just had to steal the keys, and then all they had to do was hurry up and wait for the big reveal. Eight o’clock, Riley was told upon arrival. The designer would commence his speech at eight, then reveal his masterpiece to the world. 

Riley checked her watch. Thirty more minutes. 

She knew she’d been standing in this spot for too long already, but Riley was loath to give up the relative safety of having a wall at her back. The twinge of fear she’d felt earlier at the runway show came raging to the surface, rooting her stiletto-clad feet in place. Leaving the wall meant having people in her blind spot. No one’s going to hurt me, Riley promised herself. This is a party, not a prison. 

Her legs felt like lead weights, but Riley forced herself to re-enter the crowd, one agonizing stride at a time. She made it as far as the nearest display case before she had to stop, and her eyes landed on a tiara resting in the center of the display. Countless tiny diamonds formed flowery swoops and swirls, with a handful of emeralds scattered between them, filling what would otherwise be empty spaces. In the center, the diamonds framed a large, round emerald, mimicking the shape of a flower. 

It was exactly what Riley would have stolen had the Five Eyes agreed to rob the Louvre itself, rather than this party. Maybe she’d come back for it, one day. 

Using the case as a pseudo-wall, Riley took a deep breath and re-scanned the room in search of Jill. Unsurprisingly, Jill was exactly where Riley had last seen her.

She kept an eye on the recruit, knowing Desi and Cage were doing the same. Riley was impressed; Jill had quickly figured out how to linger without being obvious she was waiting for something. Jill mindlessly pushed up her glasses—the only visible sign of her nerves—and the movement drew Riley’s attention. 

But not to Jill. 

To another blond head, far behind her. One Riley desperately hoped to never see again. 

“We have a problem,” Desi said. 

“I saw.” 

Nikki’s ex-boyfriend stalked into the gallery, a taller, older man at his heels like a shadow—the same men who chased Riley, Nikki, and Jill through the taco shop a few weeks ago. 

Fuck.

Ducking her head to avoid being spotted, Riley hissed, “Nik, get your ass to the control room and lock the door behind you. We’ve got company.” 

“Already here. Accessing system controls as we speak. Whoever designed the security system in this place should be fired, because this is ridiculously simple. I should’ve left it in French just to keep it interesting.” A pause. "Who's here? Wait. No. Let me guess. Interpol? The mob? That bitchy designer I once robbed point-blank?" 

"Your ex." 

"Oh."

"You didn't tell him about our dream job, did you?" The words came out a little too accusatory, but Riley didn't care. She needed to know. 

"No! Of course I didn't. He— Look, I don't know why he's here, and we can figure that out later. Right now, you need to keep him busy. He's smart, Riles. Maybe even smarter than you. Be careful." 

Riley scoffed. "Smarter than me? We'll see about that." 

"I'm serious, Riley." 

But Riley ignored her, instead giving instructions of her own. "Cage, you watch Jill. Des—" 

"I've got the big one." Classic Desi, never letting her finish a sentence and yet always knowing what she was going to say. The habit was obnoxious at first, but over time Riley learned to appreciate it. "See the bulge on his left side? He keeps touching it." Desi said. "He's armed." 

“He’s what?” Jill exclaimed. 

Chuckling, Desi said, “Now look at my left side. We match.” A small, terrified squeak was the only response. “Well, what did you think I meant when I told you I’m the team’s exfil specialist?” 

“Not that!” 

“And Nik’s ex?” Riley asked, redirecting the conversation. 

“Seems clean.” 

“He is,” Nikki confirmed. “Mac hates guns.” 

“You know,” Riley said, studying the larger of the two men, “The other one kind of looks like a guy who dated my mom once.” 

“Really?” Desi asked. “Think he’s the same guy?” 

Riley took a closer look. He was tall, with broad, muscled shoulders and a buzzed haircut, and considering how often he fidgeted with his tie, he didn’t get dressed up often. He smiled at a passing waitress. He had an open, friendly smile, which totally contrasted with the systematic way he scanned the room. “Nah.”

Jill squawked, “Wait! Are we really still going through with this? Didn’t it just get a whole lot harder?” 

“You say harder, I say more fun,” Cage said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.” 

Jill, it seemed, wasn’t so easily reassured. “Am I the only one who sees this is a trap?” 

“It’s only a trap when you don’t know about it. When you do, it’s a challenge,” Riley said. 

“But what if the plan goes wrong? Then what?” 

At the same time, all four women answered, “Improvise.” 

Riley muted her comms as she approached Nikki’s ex; Jill didn’t need the added distraction. Help her, Riley pleaded with the universe. You owe me. 

Pushing her concerns about Jill to the back of her mind, Riley studied her target. There was a champagne flute in the spy’s hand, but he didn’t drink it—not even a sip—and his methodical gaze swept the room, no doubt making note of each guest and who they interacted with. 

He was cute, she had to admit. Definitely Nikki’s type. 

Purposefully not watching where she was going, Riley collided with him, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink onto her shoes. She pretended to stumble, and his free hand caught her waist, ensuring Riley stayed upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Pardon me.” 

His hand left her side. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you?” 

Don’t lie. Evade. Her former mentor taught her that. 

Riley smirked. “I bet you use that line on every beautiful woman you stumble into.” 

“Only when I’m too blown away to say something original.” He winked. 

Maybe this would be easier than Riley anticipated. “Care to wander the museum with me while you practice your next line?” 

“Normally I would, but I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not looking to start anything new.” 

So much for that plan. 

His honesty, however, was surprising. 

“Not even a little fun?” she goaded, but Nikki’s ex declined once more before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd. 

At least Desi had better luck keeping the other spy occupied. She had him cornered, her body carefully angled to prevent him from seeing the slight bulge from the gun hidden in her dress. The plunging neckline had two purposes—easy access to the gun holstered at her side while providing a distracting view of her chest and intricate tattoos. It was just enough to snag wandering eyes and keep them focused on the front of her body, rather than the side. To the spy’s credit, his eyes remained pointedly fixed on Desi’s face. 

“Got the keys,” Jill announced. Perfect timing. 

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work, Blondie.” 

Now, all they had to do was wait.

*****

While the designer yammered some pretentious bullshit about fine jewelry as the centerpiece of fashion and art, Riley slowly pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathering for the reveal. A few feet away, Cage did the same. Across from them—closest to the still-covered jewelry display case—Desi and Jill took their places. None of them were particularly interested by the designer’s speech, but Nikki would be hanging on every word if she were here. 

The designer rambled on, explaining how particular pieces among the French Crown Jewels influenced the designs of his own work. It was awfully arrogant, Riley thought, comparing his own work to such timeless pieces. The longer he spoke, the more Riley disliked him and didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for robbing him. 

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Nikki’s ex and his partner seemed content to remain out of the way. For all Riley cared, they could stay there all night. 

The gallery lights flickered once. A few guests glanced up nervously, but the majority remained transfixed on the designer. 

Nikki’s voice crackled through the comms. “Everyone ready? Nod once if you are.” Riley nodded. One by one, so did everyone else. “Alrighty then. Lights out in five…”

Riley counted the number of paces between her and Cage—six. 

“Four…”

Paces from Cage to the jewelry case—eight. 

“Three…”

Paces from the case back to her original position—ten. 

Two…

Closing her eyes, Riley waited. 

“One.” 

Several women shrieked when the lights went out. 

Riley opened her eyes, and before they’d even adjusted to the dark, she strode toward Cage. Six steps. She collided with Cage, dropping her purse on the ground and taking Cage’s identical one, containing replicas of the necklace and earrings. 

Cage shouted that someone stole her purse, causing a scene. She’d chatted and flirted with enough people throughout the night for her voice to be easily recognized, and a murmur broke out among the agitated crowd, creating just enough background noise to cover the sound of Riley’s heels clicking on the floor. 

Eight steps to the back side of the jewelry display. Riley could just make out Jill and Desi unlocking the case with the assistant’s keys. She braced for an alarm to sound, but there was nothing. Atta girl, Nikki. 

Riley opened the purse. Carefully, Desi replaced the real jewels with the fakes, depositing the real ones inside Cage’s purse. 

Jill locked the case and replaced the cover, and Riley returned to her original position among the crowd. The designer and his assistant remained oblivious to what transpired behind them, even as Jill slipped the keys back into the assistant’s dress pocket.

“Lights on in three,” Nikki warned. 

Emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh white light over the murmuring crowd. A man angrily questioned what happened, followed by a chorus of “Yeah, what he said!”s in a variety of languages. The assistant urged the crowd to remain calm, promising everything would be sorted out shortly. 

Riley looked over her shoulder, searching for Nikki’s ex. He was nowhere to be found. She narrowed her eyes, but with two hundred million dollars worth of jewelry in her hand, Riley decided she didn’t particularly care. 

The woman Cage flirted with the longest stepped forward, picking up the purse Riley had tossed near Cage’s feet. “Isn’t this your purse?” she asked Cage. 

Riley’s teammate feigned embarrassment, gracefully reclaiming the purse. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” 

Just as an outraged Cage exclaimed the purse was empty, Riley melted into the dispersing crowd, slowly making her way toward the museum’s exit. That was the plan. She’d leave first, and once she escaped with the jewels, everyone else would exit as well. 

Riley retraced her steps, heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the museum’s endless long hallways. She didn’t look at any of the art as she passed, not even a single glance. Art had always been more Nikki’s thing than hers. 

Weaving her way back to the exit, Riley prayed Nikki hadn’t missed any of the cameras. She was supposed to loop them all, allowing Riley to leave the museum unseen. But with each additional camera—some obvious, some not—Riley’s anxiety rose. 

Nikki knows what she’s doing, Riley reminded herself. She won’t let anything happen to me. 

Two years ago, that reassurance would’ve been enough. 

Now, her distrusting brain shot back, Are you sure? 

Riley didn’t dignify it with a response. 

Passing the museum’s security checkpoint, Riley smiled at a bored-looking security guard. “Vous partez déjà?” he asked. 

Riley hoped the security guard asked why she was leaving so soon. She never did get around to brushing up on her French. “Oui, I have a flight to catch.” Not a lie, although the flight wouldn’t take off until early tomorrow morning. 

The crisp night breeze prickled Riley’s bare skin. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. For the first time that night, Riley finally felt her body start to relax. The vast, empty plaza felt so much safer than the packed gallery. Still not safe enough to let her guard down, but safer. Riley slipped her hand into the purse, fingers closing around an earring. It was surprisingly heavy in her palm. 

Another flawless job. The Five Eyes were back in business. 

She was halfway across the plaza when Nikki started cursing, but Riley didn’t slow. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. The job was done. No turning back now. 

There was a distinct male voice in the background, but Riley couldn’t make out what he said. 

“What do you mean, ‘I had a feeling you’d be here’?” Nikki demanded. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mac, and I know you didn’t track me here on your own.” 

Her ex’s voice was nothing more than a low, indiscernible rumble. 

“What?” Nikki whispered, her voice breaking mid-word. 

As much as Riley wanted to know what he said, she kept walking. But that didn’t stop the others from hissing Nikki’s name, demanding to know what was going on. 

Nikki yelped, and then the male voice purred, loud and clear, “I know you’re listening, Riley. Why don’t we go on that little walk now?” 

With a cold laugh, Riley said, “In your fucking dreams.” How did he know her name? As far as she knew, Nikki never mentioned her. 

Still, she kept walking. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. No matter what. 

Riley muted her comms, and Nikki’s piercing shriek filled her ear. A muffled grunt followed.

Then nothing. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. 

“Riley, you need to come back,” Jill pleaded. “Nikki needs help.” 

She didn’t answer, clenching her jaw with the effort to keep silent. An airplane flew overhead, and Riley tracked its path across the sky. Every step brought Riley closer to her own flight home—and the freedom that entailed. Turning around now would only put that in jeopardy. 

But every step also took her away from her best friend. The woman she once believed she’d do anything for. 

Jill was overreacting, Riley reasoned. Nikki was more than capable of getting herself out of a bind. Riley lost track of the number of impossible situations she and Nikki had found themselves in over the years, and they always found a way to escape. 

“Sam is getting Jill out,” Desi said, slightly out of breath. “Riles, I don’t think I can get Nikki out on my own. Jill is right. You need to come back.” 

Riley faltered. If Desi thought there was a problem, then something must’ve gone really, really wrong. 

Maybe Jill wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“Des—” Cage started. “They opened the case.” 

“So?” 

“They know the jewels are fake. If Riley comes back, it won’t just be Nikki going to prison.” 

Prison. 

Riley didn’t think she was breathing. Heart thudding wildly, her stomach tied itself into knots, and her clothes became damp with sweat. The sense of safety she’d felt earlier was gone, and Riley fought the urge to run. Every little noise—traffic, pedestrian chatter, a siren in the distance—was coming for her, ready to drag her into some dark hole she’d never emerge from. 

Nothing was logical anymore, like the part of her brain capable of rational thought had gone to sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to wake up, but it was no use. 

Run, while you still have the chance, her body screamed. 

Everyone is responsible for their own exit, her brain repeated. 

She needed to turn around. Nikki couldn’t go to prison. 

Two years ago, Riley had gone to prison in Nikki’s stead. She let herself be arrested to protect her friends. Her family. 

If Nikki went to prison now, then Riley’s sacrifice would be in vain. 

But Riley’s body refused to turn around. Her worst memories from prison flashed before her eyes—ones Riley desperately wanted to forget—like a cougar crouching in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment she was at her weakest to pounce. 

She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t go through that again. 

She wouldn’t survive it twice. 

“Riles,” Nikki pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?” 

Run, that voice in her head said. Don’t look back. 

Her steps were slower now, less sure. But Riley didn’t stop. She couldn’t. 

“I need you.” 

Save yourself, girl. 

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered, but her comms were still muted. With a shaking hand, Riley unmuted them one last time. 

It’s better this way, the voice promised. You’ll see. 

It was all too easy to slip into the brutal, emotionless persona she’d built while in prison, the process having become instinct. It was necessary then, to keep her safe and alive. Now, it did the same, preventing Riley from making a mistake every cell in her body knew she wouldn’t come back from. 

In a cold, unflinching voice, Riley said, “Everyone is responsible for their own exit.” 

She threw her earpiece into a nearby fountain, and the click of her stilettos echoed in the night. 

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @losingitovermacriley​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @holbytlanna​ /

[leoneslover]

hi hi !! Can I request a one shot about Suga asking the reader out on a date for the first time? Like, they’ve both liked each other for a long time and Suga finally decides to make the first move. They grab lunch, go on a super cute museum date, and it ends with him walking the reader home. I can just imagine how cute and blushy he would be, and maybe include one of those super cute first kiss scenes? 🥺👉👈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠༄

Sugawara Kōshi x reader(gn!)

Warnings: none, just a bunch of fluff

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long, anyways I hope this is worth the wait. Also btw, this is so cute I love this idea sm dkdndkdn mainly because I have this hc where Suga is really interested in like, art and stuff, so I thought they could go to an art museum so he could explain stuff about the paintings to the reader 🥺👉👈

• He took a deep breath to calm himself down. The soft breeze of the upcoming springtime hitting his exposed forearms as he patiently waited for you. It was just a date, he had everything planned, technically nothing could go wrong. And besides, it was you, you already knew him better than himself probably, he shouldn’t be worrying too much.

Yet there he was, his thoughts running wild to places he didn’t want them to go and his hands already trembling slightly. He took another deep breath, curling his hands into fists at his sides, in a slight attempt to stop the shaking. Time was passing by way too slowly for his liking, and every second he got more and more worried that you actually wouldn’t come.

He wanted to slap himself, for being so stupid to even think such a thing. But he didn’t, it’ll leave red marks on his face and that’d probably worry you. Another deep breath followed by a sigh and shutting his eyes. He let the vague scent of spring that reminded him of you so much calm him down. Your face popped up in his mind, your bright smile and contagious laugh making him subconsciously smile. The trembling stopped.

“What ‘cha smiling at?” You asked curiously, in a slight mocking tone, as you stepped in front of him.

He opened his eyes, his gaze immediately falling to your figure and a soft blush paiting his cheeks. Was it his imagination or you looked even prettier than usual? Your hair was styled like always, and your outfit seemed like your usual style, but there was something different about you. You raised your brow, and he realized he was staring. The blush intensified.

“Oh, h-hi” he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

To his dismay, you softly laughed at him. But he couldn’t help by smile, more confidently this time. Did you ever notice how radiant you looked when you were happy?

“Stop being nervous” you scolded him, raising your hand to flick his forehead with your index finger, making him jump and soothe it immediately, “we’re just hanging out”.

“I told you to stop doing that, it hurts y’know” he said through gritted teeth, a frown taking over his features as he rubbed his forehead.

You giggled again, and he couldn’t pretend to be mad at you anymore. He sighed, the annoyance fading away as he placed a hand on his hip and stretched the other one to his side, signaling the path ahead of you.

“Shall we get going” he smiled and you nodded, turning around to start walking in that direction, him following by your side.

“You haven’t told me were are we going yet” you commented, turning your head to stare at him. The sun of the early afternoon creating beautiful highlights on his silver hair. Did he ever notice how nice he looked under the sunlight?

“It’s a surprise” he smirked, eyeing you for a second to give you a brief reassuring smile, “don’t worry about it, I already have everything planned”.

You squinted at him briefly, but decided to trust him anyways. Blindly following him to wherever he decided to take you.

Turns out the place was further than you expected, since you had to take the bus to get there. And as you sat side by side on one of the backseats of the almost empty vehicle , you could feel your hands grazing his every once in a while.

Should I take it?

Should I let him take it?

But the ride was over before neither of you could do anything about it.

After some more walking you finally reached your destination. A huge building stood tall in front of you, a bunch of sculptures hanging out in the front part of the museum and filling the place with vibrant colors. You took it all in, the beautiful architecture of the place itself mixed with the nice colors of the decorations around it.

Suga stared at you as you did so. He had a gut feeling that he’d see that awestruck expression of yours a bunch of times today. And oh he couldn’t wait already.

“Let’s go silly” he pushed you gently, and he had to fight back the blush that threatened to take over his features when you turned to look at him with that spark of excitement in your eyes that he grew to love. “The actual art is inside the building y’know”.

“I know” you scoffed, starting to make your way towards the entrance with him, “but look at it, it’s gorgeous!”.

He giggled at your excitement. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief course through his body, the past worry of you thinking that his plan was lame vanishing as soon as you made your way through the double doors.

After a little debate you decided to make your way towards the painting section. Rooms and hallways decorated with beautiful oil paintings caught your attention immediately.

If he would be in any other situation, he would have probably stared at the dull yet rich colors that stood out in front of him the same way you did. However, even if he tried to focus on the pieces ahead, his gaze would naturally gravitate towards your figure. The way your eyes sparkled as you took pictures of your favorite ones. How you put all your focus on him and listened to every single word as he told you little fun facts about the paintings. How you excitedly grabbed his wrist to guide him to the next one that caught your eye. All little details and things that made his heart flutter and a soft blush paint his cheeks.

Have you always been this cute?

Since when had your lovely smile and sparkly eyes taken over his heart to make him feel the way he did?

You stopped in front of a simple frame. The painting of two young lovers kissing behind a tree in a beautiful park displayed for everyone to see. That’s when Suga finally looked at the actual art in front him, and couldn’t help but blush almost immediately.

“Are there any fun facts about this one?” You asked without looking at him, your gaze lost in the ethereal sweet feeling of the painting.

“Yeah, actually..” he scratched the back of his neck, staring at the frame but paying more attention to your movements from the corner of his eye, “The guy who painted this one is actually the same guy from the painting itself”.

You turned to look at him, intrigued by his words.

“He was in love with his best friend, for years I think, but he was never brave enough to tell them. Until one day, he took them for a picnic at this hidden place in the woods, a place he found while looking around for inspiration for more paintings. I think he couldn’t keep bottling up his feeling anymore and just went for it. I’m not sure of what happened next exactly, but allegedly those two are supposed to be him and his best friend. That’s why the painting it’s called ‘forbidden lovers’ or something like that”.

“Wow” you almost whispered, turning back to look at the painting again. He didn’t dare to look at you again, the story about that one hitting him too close home. But for his surprise, you spoke again. “Id like to recreate this one...”

You trailed off, and he involuntarily turned his head to look at you. Suddendly he was extremely aware of your soft hand that was still wrapped around his wrist, and the way his heart rate sped up in an instant. To him, you seemed oblivious to the effect you had on him, how suddendly all those bottled up feeling he had for you rose up to the surface, tickling his skin and screaming to just fuck it and give in, to take you in his arms now that he finally had the chance and never let you go. But little did he know, that you were struggling with your own emotions yourself.

The implication hung high in the air, and suddendly the ambient had gone tense. You didn’t dare to look at him, fully knowing that he was looking at you. You knew that if you turned your head to the side you wouldn’t be able to hold back what you’ve been wanting to do for such a long time by now. So you stayed quiet, pretending to stare at the painting in a weak attempt to calm yourself down before you ruined your chance for going too fast. You suddendly became aware of your hand around his wrist, your hand twitching in realization.

Should it let him go?

Should I pull them close?

But before neither of you could make a decision, the sound of a phone ringing in the distance bursted your little bubble.

“L-let’s go see that one” you quickly said, pulling him behind you again and running off the the first painting you saw.

He let you drag him around so he wouldn’t have to think about what you said too much.

It didn’t take long for that little awkward moment to be left behind, the two of you making your way in the huge building and finding new and more exciting things to see as time passed. It seemed like you came to an unspoken agreement to just forget what you said and keep carrying on with your date. And he couldn’t help but notice now, how it seemed like you always knew what to do in any sort of situation naturally. How to not let any awkward situation get in your way of having fun, how to comfort the other when needed, how to know where to go for lunch without even saying a word. You clicked with each other so well, that sometimes words weren’t needed, even for agreements.

He smiled to himself, his heart softening at the thought of the two of you being literally made for each other. And he couldn’t help but let the thought linger in his head as he watched you look with stars in your eyes at every single piece of art during your visit.

It wasn’t until a couple hours later, while you were waiting for the bus, commenting about your favorite paintings and showing him how pretty they looked on the pictures you took, that he realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to any of the paintings in the museum, since his gaze was fixed on you the whole time. And surprisingly, he didn’t mind it. Not a single bit.

You sat next to each other in the bus on your way back as well, your head falling softly against the window while you rested your eyes as the movement of the vehicle lulled you to sleep. However before you could completely give in to your tiredness, a soft touch grazing your hand alerted you.

Is he gonna take it?

Would they mind if I take it?

And this time, before the bus stopped, he decided to take your hand. A small smile curled up your lips for the rest of the ride.

Your hands remained locked even after you got off the bus, walking down your neighborhood since he insisted on walking you home. The smile never fell off your lips, and none of you addressed it directly, because you didn’t have to. Suga noticed how once again you fell into a mutual agreement without sharing words, and it made him smile too.

“Thanks for today, I had a really good time” You finally broke the silence once you reached your house, your hand still grabbing his.

“Me too, maybe we should go grab lunch too next time” he said, the bright smile he always saved for you shining in the dim lights of the late afternoon.

“I’d love to” you smiled as well. The implication of a future date making your heart do flips of joy.

A silence fell between you two again. None of you wanted to say goodbye just yet, it didn’t feel right, even tho your date was already over. You both became highly aware of your hands at the same time, and he prayed internally for his hand to not start sweating at that moment. You turned to look at him, the golden hour of the sunset reflecting on his silver hair beautifully, making your heart skip a beat. He looked back at you, and your lips parted slightly.

Has he always been this beautiful?

Have they always been this beautiful?

He licked his lips, and you did the same, both of you too lost on your own thought to register the other’s movements. He took a step forward, almost hetistating, and you didn’t step back.

Should I kiss them?

Please kiss me.

He took another step forward, and you leaned in.

Fuck it.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, and you could swear your soul just left your body. You kissed back, your lips catching his in an kinda awkard and nervous kiss. It was a little messy, and it probably ended way too quick for both of your likings. But it made your chest burst with fireworks, and you could see the very obvious blush painting his cheeks once you broke apart.

“You’re beautiful” you both said at the same time, making you both freeze for a second, before you bursted out laughing.

It was a refreshing moment, right at the beginning of spring, the scent of new flowers and the golden tone from the sunlight making the scene just downright perfect. He almost wanted to hit himself for being so nervous earlier, how stupid of him. And you wanted to kiss him again, just one more time before you turned back.

He smiled, watching you as you reached your front door. You turned around, smiling to him one last time before getting into your house. The image of you turning around only to dedicate him one last time forming the sweetest thought in his mind.

You are prettier than all the paintings, my love.

[creepyalienghost]

Memories of the past

Joey stood from his seat in the corner and reached over for his Cain leaning on the wall. He took one more look at the party before hobbling down to his quite office, the noise from the music and them chatting fading away with the distance. He needed to be alone for a while, needed to be with him memories. He closed the door and walked to his chair, sitting down. There he quickly spotted the photo of him and his best pal, Henry stain.

Today Henry was retiring and Joey through this party to honor him. Everyone arrived when cards of best wishes and gives for the man. He deserved them. He was such a great and talented man with a good head on his shoulders. He helped shape up so many lives around as well as shape up their Business for the better. Joey wouldn’t be in this vary spot without him.

Joey’s fingers gripped the smooth frame and brought it closer to his face. He remembers this photo being taken by Henrys little sister when she came to visit. They have always been a close family, one of the many things Joey admires of Henry. Joey examined the photo. It was captured on the day Henry won the art competition. He was so happy that day. They both were. Henry had such an extraordinary talent for drawing. Even better then himself.

Why just a month prior to this was taken was when he and Henry first meet in college.

—-

For the first year in college Joey decided to take art, Business and English. Art is as the last class he had that day. A good way to relax his mind and have some fun. That day he was also late for it. When he got there, there was only one set left. Next to a brown headed guy with bright green eyes. He took that seat next to him and laid his supplies on the table. “What did I miss?” He ask. The brown headed guy glanced at him. “Nothing important, just missed him fighting a goat.”

That made Joey chuckle and Henry smiled at that. “I’m Henry by the way. Henry stain.” He held out his hand.

Joey shook his hand “I’m Joey. Joey drew.” He introduced himself.

The whole class that day was great! The professor spent the first hour with an art game to get to know someone there. Joey had learn that Henry had 2 sisters and a grew up in California. The second half was spent with working on there first project. Drawing of what they had learn from there partner.

After class, Henry had invited him to an art auction that night. Joey had never been to one before but had loved to go and excepted his offer. He had wear his best suit that night and when they arrived everything looked so professional. The men there had their suits and ty, the woman had there gorgeous dresses with there hair done. Everyone there was dressed their very best.

The tables were was covered in a fine golden table cloth, topping with little silver decorations in the middle of each like crystals. The servers who are task going around with drinks and food had on outfits to match the decorations. Joey thought it all looked so glorious. He wondered how Henry got into this? Later on Henry would tell Joey about his father, who was an art professor and who took his kids to things like this.

That night he had watched many people there racing to keep the art pieces they desire. Large Paintings that took so many hours of hard work, Hand crafted sculptures that were Beautifully design and many different items that so many wanted to get there hands on.

——

Joey sat back, getting more comfortable in his office chair as he remembered the first night he and Henry spent together. That was the vary start of there friendship. After that day they hung out together every day after there classes, exploring the city around them. They would often love to go to the art museums to learn about the paintings and the book stores to lates books! One of those days Henry had started there business idea.

———

It was a nice crisp autumn day! The wind ever so slightly blew around you, the sun hide behind the clouds and the temperature was just right. The perfect weather for Joey. Especially for the week of the art festival. There wear no classes that day do to the festival and of corse he and Henry went.

When they arrived there, there was the sound of music playing in the distance making joey wanting to dance. When they got though the gate Joey found face painting station near by. Susie Campbell, one of their friends, was one of them who painted and was transforming a little girl into a magical Princess.

As him and Henry walked together though the crowd tours the ride they came across a tent for a cartoon that was quite popular. Many children were gathered around trying to get pictures and autographs from there favorite characters. He and Henry stood watching the Excitement of it all.

That’s when Henry leaned in tours him as he continued watching. “We should make our own cartoon show.”

Henry was joking about it then, but he himself couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when they were months from graduating. Why boy make a cartoon show? They both loved the arts and were good at drawing. They needed writers, musicians, actors and a building though.

It wasn’t Intel the last month of college, Joey ask him about really making a cartoon studio. Henry wasn’t sure at first if they should try it but soon they came to an agreement. They would start a studio together in the next few months.

They both already knew some friends that would love to join there Studio. Joey ask Susie and she with some friends of hers agreed to join as an Voice actress. There was also his good friend Norman who’d work the projector. Henry found Sammy who promised him he could be the conductor and together they started to gather a band together. Dot, Wally, Alison and the others came along once they had the building sat and started hiring other people.

—————

Joey chuckled and sat down the picture frame. This place has grown hugely since then. So many more departments, so many more people. And with it relationships grow to. Alison and Tom happened for a few years before Alison left for Nathan and Tom stayed, Sammy and Norman has a happy and Heathy relationship still to this day, him and Susie Campbell had a thing for a while before they decided to just be friends. Henry though found love outside of the studio.

A beautiful woman name Linda. He had first meet her in an art store. He was buying more drawings books while she was buying more paint. She was a painter and damn good one at that. Her work was magnificent and sold for a great price! Joey once bought one for his mother.

They first became friends and bounded over the there passion for the arts along with other things like movies shows, and music. After around a year they officially became a couple and around five years later they finally announced they were getting married. Everyone was so excited for them to and Joey was honored when Henry ask him to be his best man there.

—-

The day of Henry’s weeding was here and Joey was of course with him helping. Henry finished buttoning up his under shirt and came over to Joey, who was waiting with his suit for him. “How do I look jojo?” He ask stretching his arms out for show.

“Almost complete!” He answered with a smile as Henry chuckled. He was so proud of his best friend for coming this far in life and knew Linda was a lucky girl to have a man like Henry.

Joey helped him into his suit on both arms then he smothered out the kinks and lumps before stepping back to get the whole picture. “What about now?” Henry ask again, only this this time spinning around for show.

Joey chuckled at him as he fixed Henry’s ty, making it nice and proper. “Now you look good!”

“All thanks to you Joey.” Henry gave him a huge grin and brought him into a hug.

Joey patted his back before they separated them a knock came from there dress room door. “Come, it’s time.”

Joey stood in his place a few feet away from Henry as they all wait for the bride. It was only a few minutes wait before the music started and everyone stood for the bride. She was stunning in that dress as she came down that ally, her father giving her away. They said their vows to each other and kisses to Seal the deal.

It wasn’t that long before Linda became pregnant with a little girl and Joey was touched when both Linda and Henry ask him to be her god father. Joey of course accepted the request. When she was born they named her after him, drew.

——

Joey whipped a tear away from his check. Drew was a smart kid growing up. Talented to. All three of them had influenced her into the arts. She would Afton beg for her father to be brought in the studio and sometimes he would let him. When she was here she never gotten in the way of others work. She would stay back and watching the band play as Sammy Lawrence guides them or listen to Susie Campbell do her lines. Sometimes she would play pranks with Wally when people were on break.

She loved all things art but takes after her father the most with Drawing. Which is why she’s about to take over Henry’s place in being one of the owners and within a few years the whole studio, once he could no longer work. He wouldn’t want his work going into any others hand.

Joey drew sighed as he looked around his office. It was good to remember memory’s sometimes but he m supposed it was time to head back to the party now. He gripped his cane, stood up with its supporter and walked out of his office.

[thdorkmagnet]

Where in the World is Janna Ordonia?

Hello everyone! Here is my Carmen Sandiego AU/ Master Theif Janna AU, whichever you want to call it! So this is, as you probably guessed, inspired by the new Netflix series "Carmen Sandiego". Ever since I watched the first episode I've been picturing Janna filling this role so much and I just had to write it! But I did change some things around from the show like making Janna a straight up thief rather than a thief who only steals from other thieves. This will also be a Jantom fic since I don't think there are nearly enough of those out there right now and I wanted to help add to the collection. This ship needs more love!

Also big shout out to Andychipss for the awesome cover art! If you get a chance check her out over on Instagram! She always does an incredible job!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters belong to Daron Nefcy and Disney. Carmen Sandiego belongs to Broderbund Software, Netflix and Lauren Elliott. All right go to them.

The city of lights was dazzling that particular evening, its namesake casting a brilliant and beautiful glow across all of Paris. Even the dark corners seemed to hold a life to them, making the whole city feel as peaceful and romantic as they say. And on one particular rooftop stretching high above the paved streets below stood a young woman. She wore a black long-sleeve shirt with matching pants and long black boots, giving her the outward appearance of a shadow herself. But blending in would be rather difficult for her since over that she wore a bright red trench coat and matching fedora. Her short dark hair hung slightly out from beneath her hat. She had tanned skin and brown eyes. Her appearance was eye-catching that was for sure, which was why it was a strange choice of attire coming from one of the most elusive and legendary thieves in the world. Her name which was known across the world was Janna Ordonia, the Scarlet Thief.

The girl looked coolly out from under the brim of her hat, holding a pair of small binoculars to her eyes. From her sight, she spotted her next target up ahead, a museum. She watched as some security guards made their rounds, in the exact pattern she memorized over the last few days of staking the place out. "Predictable," she sighed slipping the pocket-sized spying device into her coat pocket. "I was hoping for a bit more of a challenge," she groaned in boredom.

"Well y'know, you could wait until Acme shows up," came a voice from inside the communication device in her ear. "You know some of their agents are on your trail since you set fire to that shop earlier today." His voice was accusing now, clearly trying to make her feel guilty for her crime.

But Janna was unaffected by the attempt, saying plainly, "Come on, Alfonso, I can hardly be blamed for that, they were asking for it."

"How?" Alfonso asked in exasperation.

"Charging 30 bucks for a stupid model of the Eiffel tower is insane!" Janna scoffed. "And they call me a thief."

The young hacker just sighed burying his head in his hands. "Anyways, am I all clear to head inside?" Janna asked returning the conversation back to the task at hand.

Alfonso complied, doing a few keystrokes on his computer, but still grumbling under his breath in annoyance. "Yeah, hang on," he mumbled, shutting down all security in the museum as if it were no big deal. "There, done. But you better do this job fast before someone realizes it's down."

"Hey no problem, fast is my middle name," Janna said, doing a quick stretch to loosen up her muscles. It was important to stay flexible in this line of work.

"I thought you didn't have a middle name," Alfonso pointed out.

"Well I just gave myself one," the girl replied, before leaping off the roof. As she fell she whipped out a grappling gun she kept in her sleeve, firing it and attaching it to another building's side. She felt the string go taint as she sailed around the side of the building, detaching it fluidly off the wall before flying into an opened window and right into the museum.

Her feet hit smooth tile as she tried to slide to a delicate stop. But she didn't predict her momentum correctly as she stopped just short of hitting a wall and knocking a small pedestal holding some priceless vase on it. Janna didn't even have time to dive for it before it hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces. The young thief sucked in a breath waiting to see if the loud noise had attracted any guards, but after a couple beats of silence, Janna declared it a false alarm and let her body relax once more.

Alfonso, however, was less calm, as his squeaky voice spoke up from Janna's earpiece, "What was that noise?! Janna did you break something!"

Janna scoffed, kicking the fragmented pieces under a nearby fancy rug. "Aw, relax I'm sure it wasn't that important."

"Janna!" The young hacker screamed and the girl was tempted to take the earpiece off to avoid the inevitable rant but settled for merely reminding her friend, "Better keep your voice down, Al. Wouldn't want to wake your roommate."

The audible groan through the earpiece was her reward as she sauntered superiorly though the quiet museum, keeping her eyes peeled for her target. Alfonso's roommate Ferguson often got on the young hacker's nerve, especially when they were on a caper. The loudmouthed teen seemed to have no self-control as he would frequently butt in and distract Al while he was trying to hack, getting overeager and nosy over what the two were doing (treating it more like a game than a life or death situation), and just being a general nuisance, which frayed Alfonso's last nerve. But this seemed to do the trick as the boy stopped with his incessant whining and Janna was able to enjoy a couple minutes of silence, taking everything in. She walked with practiced ease through the marble halls, making sure her footsteps made no sound as she traveled deeper inside. Her brown eyes scanned the area, alert and precise, despite her relaxed posture, taking in slow breaths of musty air.

She always loved being in a dark museum at night, the empty and quiet always soothing to her. As much as she loved chaos, even Janna couldn't deny how beautiful and simplistic a simple trip through the abandoned hallways could be. It was like looking into a hidden world, a peek behind the curtains. During the day, the museum was close to bursting with tourists and tour groups and kids on school field trips, making the experience feel cheapened and hallow. But at night, that was when the museum could truly be itself, no lights, no spectacles, no overzealous explanations of what made its contents art, it could just exist and allow its art to speak for itself. And that was something Janna could relate too.

Her eyes glance lazily around at the paintings and sculptures and all forms of artistic achievements, each one a masterpiece in its own right and each one probably worth a fortune. But none of them were what she was looking for. She had a much bigger prize in mind.

The girl came to a stop in front of a large painting, the image a portrait of a sailor, the delicate paint strokes perfectly encapsulating the man's gruff demeanor. Janna cocked her head to the side as if admiring it closely as she said into her earpiece, "Alfonso, I'm at the painting."

"Great, the panel should be behind it, I've overwritten the security codes but you'll have to pick the lock yourself," the hacker replied, all business now.

Janna smiled mischievously. "Not a problem." She took a step closer to the painting, saying softly to the image, "Sorry about this, captain." She gently grabbed the painting's frame, lifting it off its hook and moving it as carefully and quietly as she could. As she did she noticed that her eyes were now level with the deep angry eyes of the painting and she muttered under her breath, "Hey, don't give me that look. You brought this on yourself." Without another word, she set the painting down on the opposite wall, before turning back to her next objective. It was a small safe, made of thick unbreakable metal, and Janna could see it had two sets of locks on its smooth surface, an electronic lock with a small series of buttons and a panel, as well as a combination lock next to it. On closer inspection, Janna could see that Alfonso had already done his part, the panel flashing the word "Entry". Now all that was left was for Janna to do her part.

Janna cracked her knuckles, flexing them a little to make sure they were nice and loose. She carefully grabbed hold of the small turn-style knob, putting her ear up to the door as she began to ever so slowly move the knob left. Soon she heard a click echo through the cold metal and smiled, immediately turning the knob the other way, waiting for the next click to sound. She continued on with this meticulous task, making sure to move slowly and preciously with each turn of the dial. Until finally, the last click sounded and she took a step away, whispering smugly, "Child's play."

With one swift motion, she turned the handle and pulled the safe door open, staring inside with a victorious smile. Inside the small metal box sat a plain black briefcase with a simple lock that took the highly skilled Janna only a minute to pick. She flicked up the latches before opening the container, wanting to make sure she had the correct package. And just as she had predicted inside sat a small golden statue sealed tight in the foam covering they had carefully placed around it so it wouldn't be jolted or damaged. The statue was in the shape of a woman, a ballerina, her arms raised in a graceful and beautiful pirouette.

"Is it there?" Al asked nervously, he always got anxious when he couldn't identify the item firsthand.

Janna whistled, eying the statue closely as she muttered under her breath, "Oh it's here all right."

The young hacker let out a sigh of relief, before saying, "Good."

"Must be pretty special if our client wants it so badly," Janna commented.

"The Golden Dancer is one of the rarest statues in the world. It is one of a set of three identical statues kept in hidden locations around the globe. They originated in-"

"Geez, Professor Al, I didn't ask for the history lesson," Janna interrupted, sealing the briefcase back up and closing the safe. It was time to cover her tracks. Hopefully, no one would even notice it was even missing, at least for a while.

Alfonso let out a groan of annoyance but decided to change the subject, informing the girl instead, "Okay Janna, you'll need to be extra careful moving around the statue, we don't want to risk damaging it."

"Come on, Al, we've worked together for how long now?" Janna told him, setting the large painting back in its place from before. "Don't you know me better than that by now."

"The fact that I know you so well is exactly why I said something," Alfonso deadpanned.

Janna made a hurt scoff into the tiny device, telling him, "Well that's just rude." Her face showed a different story though, as she just smirked and nodded in satisfaction at her work. The painting was now perfectly aligned on the wall again, not an inch of it out of place, you couldn't even tell it had been moved at all. She picked up the briefcase, saying smugly, "Okay, now I think it's about time for my dramatic exit."

Just then a loud shout sounded from elsewhere in the museum, the echoed voice bouncing around the walls and Janna turned to it with a start. "Jan, what was that?" a nervous voice asked in her ear, Alfonso clearly hearing the voice too.

Janna, however, just whispered softly to herself, "Hmm, I was wondering when they'd show." Her smirk widened as she added, "This should be fun."

…

The two Acme agents walked side by side through the dark museum, both on high alert, their eyes darting as they meticulously searched the room for any threats. Well the young man was, the other seemed too entranced by every painting, sculpture, and statue they came across, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration as she looked over each piece of art. This wasn't the only contrast between the two, the two seeming to be as different as night and day, despite their similar style. Both wore fancy black suits (the standard for all Acme agents) but where the boy's was well-pressed and had not a crease out of place, the girl's was wrinkled in a few places but still quite beautiful on her slim frame. The man's short spiky brown hair was perfectly styled and lay even on his tanned face, his brown eyes narrowed in grim determination, which was almost thwarted by the adorable mole just under his left eye. His blood-red tie was a stark contrast to the pure white dress shirt he wore underneath his suit. The girl's long blond locks seemed to almost flow down her back, a small blue butterfly clip resting just above her bangs. She had on a carefree smile and walked with a noticeable skip in her step. She had on a dark blue tie and wore a black skirt and dark blue stockings rather than the dress pants of her partner. The only similarity the two seemed to share were the matching golden rings they both wore on their right hands.

"Do you really think someone is in here, Marco?" the blond asked, her eyes still gazing around in curious innocence.

"Well according to our intel-" the boy began.

"Meaning you," his partner interrupted, giving him a teasing look.

Marco smiled and blushed slightly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I am a man of many talents." He cleared his throat, willing away his blush before continuing in a matter-of-fact tone, "Anyways, Star, I heard news that the Scarlet thief was recently spotted in this area earlier today after setting fire to a local shop..."

"Classic Janna," Star commented.

"And then the whole security grid for the museum just happens to go offline the same day," Marco continued. "A place where they are keeping one of the rarest and most priceless statues in the world, mind you. Seems just a bit too suspicious if you ask me."

Star shrugged, saying, "Makes sense to me."

"In fact, Janna is probably in here right now, so we need to stay focused and not get distracted by anything."

"Got it," Star said, doing a small salute. But as she turned her head she let out a small gasp, grabbing onto her partner's arm and squealing, "Oh my gosh, Marco. Look at that adorable painting of a kitty! I have to take a picture of it!" the girl pulled out her phone but it was quickly snatched out of her grip.

"Star," Marco scolded, pulling his arm free of his girlfriend's surprisingly strong grip. "We aren't tourists, we have a job to do, remember?"

"Okay..." the girl muttered, giving him a pouting look that caused Marco's stomach to do flips at how adorable she looked. But he held back his coo as he simply nodded and told her, "Good."

The two had only gone a few more steps before something new caught Star's eye, the girl saying, "Look Marco it's a unicorn vase, ooohhh I want one!"

"Starrrr," the boy said, gaining the girl's attention before gently reminding her, "Focus."

"Right, right," Star said, nodding, her eyebrow now furrowed in determination. "Focus, I got this."

The two continued on a few more steps only for Star to gasp in shock again, causing Marco to sigh in annoyance. "What is it now?" he asked in defeat. Star quickly pointed up at one of the large statues towering over them. A big, hulking ox looking thing with an angry expression on its stone face. "Oh my gosh, Marco that statue guy looks just like you!"

"What, that looks nothing like me?!" the boy exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips as he gave the girl an angry glare.

Star had to fight to hold in her laughter as the boy's expression and demeanor matched the statue creature perfectly, the girl barely managing to stifle her chuckle by slapping a hand over her mouth.

"I don't know, Marco, I think it's pretty spot on?" a voice said behind the pair, and Star and Marco both turned to see Janna staring down at them from the floor above, leaning against the railing with a casual ease.

"Janna," Marco growled under his breath, reaching into his jacket pocket and whipping out his stun gun. He aimed it up at the thief, shouting out, "Don't move!" Star did the same next to him, yelling up at their target, "Hands in the air!"

"Well, which is it?" Janna asked, an eyebrow slowly raising but making no sign of complying.

The two agents shared a look, their cheeks now slightly pink, before Marco said in slight annoyance, "Just stay where you are."

"Sure, no problem there," Janna said, leaning a little heavier on her arm. "I'm quite comfortable up here."

"Well hopefully you'll be just as comfortable in prison, cause that's where you're headed, Janna Ordonia," Marco commented bitterly.

Janna scoffed, shaking her head. "I see you haven't changed any, Diaz." She paused looking over at Star before asking, "So how have you been, Star?"

"Oh, I'm great," Star replied brightly.

"Hey, don't change the subject!" Marco shouted.

"What? I'm just seeing how you two have been. It's been a couple of months since the last time we hung out, after all."

"If by 'hung out' you mean you swiping my wallet and using it to buy drinks for every pub in Ireland," Marco muttered in annoyance.

"Hey, you should be thanking me, you're a local hero there, now," Janna replied.

Marco's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing more. There was never any point in fighting with Janna.

"Look, Janna," Star took over, picking up on her boyfriend's increasing annoyance. "We all know you stole something from the museum so why don't you hand it over and then we can-"

"Whoa, hang on a second!" Janna interrupted her face and voice showing interest for the first time since they had arrived as her eyes finally spotted the matching rings on the agents' hands. "Since when have you two been engaged!" She quickly picked up on the intense blush that soon coated the young couple's cheeks, as well as the quick loving look that passed between Star and Marco, before their focus returned to Janna.

"For a few weeks now..." Star admitted, clearly overjoyed to be confessing this, even if it was to their enemy.

"Unbelievable, I can't believe you two didn't tell me!" Janna scoffed out, shaking her head in disapproval.

Marco rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Maybe because it's none of your business."

"So how did it happen?" the thief asked, leaning closer to the two, her eyes shimmering with questions.

The brown-haired boy opened his mouth to remind her once again that their personal life was none of her business, only for his fiance to blurt out in an excited squeal, "Oh my gosh, it was the sweetest thing, Janna. You should have seen it. One minute we're beating up a group of VILE agents, the next Marco's down on one knee proposing!" Star let out a long sigh at the memory, putting a hand to her blushing cheek, her shoulder just barely touching her finance's side. "It was so romantic."

"So, where's the wedding going to be?" Janna asked with genuine interest.

"We decided to have it in Marco's old hometown," Star replied instantly. "Nothing too fancy, just a simple wedding with our closest friends and families. Don't want to attract too much attention, y'know."

"Staarr," Marco whispered to her in warning, trying to remind his future wife not to divulge too much information to the perceptive thief. He knew she was excited and everything but Janna was the last person he had wanted to know about their special day, considering her track record for making his life miserable every chance she got.

"Huh, sounds nice," Janna commented from above, sounding genuine and sincere, even going as far as to flash them what could almost pass for a warm smile. But Marco wasn't buying any of her act, he had been fooled by her one too many times. "So when can I expect my invite?" she added.

"Uhh, never," Marco deadpanned.

Janna gave the boy a fake hurt look, feigning ignorance as she asked, "What, why not?"

"Maybe because we don't want a common criminal hanging around during our wedding," the boy snapped, giving her an accusing glare.

"Plus, we're kinda arresting you, soooo," Star added, with an apologetic shrug. At that, the two agents held their guns up once more, their gazes hardening as they kept their focus and attention on their target.

The young thief let out a dejected sigh, sitting up and turning her back on the two but still keeping a light grip on the railing behind her. "Fine, I see how it is," she said in the saddest tone she could muster, watching out of the corner of her eye to see if they would let their guard down any.

She inwardly smirked as Star lowered her gun just an inch, her face softening in sympathy, while Marco only seemed to grow more suspicious, his eyebrows somehow furrowing more than they already were. "Look, Jan, just toss us down the briefcase and we won't have to use force," Marco said in a slow, even tone, but Janna easily caught onto the hidden threat that lay beneath.

She let out a deep sigh, before saying softly, "Whatever you say." The next few seconds went by in a flash as Janna instantly turned and jumped over the railing, now falling back to the first story. Star and Marco flinched, Janna seeing their fingers tightening on the triggers of the stun guns but before either could react fully, the girl threw the briefcase in her hands, it smacking directly into Marco's chest causing the boy to grunt in pain and surprise and crash to the floor hard. Star turned to her boyfriend in fear, Janna forgotten as she screamed out a panicked, "Marco!"

Janna, meanwhile, quickly shot out a grappling line from inside her sleeve, where it roughly attached to the ceiling. The string went taunt allowing the young thief to soar over the two agent's heads. She detached the line, tucking into a roll as she hit the ground and soon she was back on her feet once more.

Janna turned, seeing Star checking on her partner, who was more stunned than hurt and didn't even hesitate to shoot out another grapple line which latched onto the forgotten handle of the briefcase, before being zipped back over to her at record speed. Janna caught it with practiced ease, looking smugly over to the pair of agents now shooting her confused but angry glares, and she merely winked and tipped her hat toward them, saying in her typical sarcastic wit, "Thanks for holding onto that for me. But I think I'll be going now."

The thief took off at a run, knowing it would only be a few seconds before the two agents pursued her with a fiery vigor and she needed to put as much distance between her and them as possible. And just as she predicted within seconds Janna heard a loud voice shout, "Hey wait!" and she increased her speed, heading straight for the top floor of the building.

Star helped Marco to his feet before the two quickly ran after the escaping thief, the latter growling under his breath for being outsmarted again by the willy Janna. He ignored the slight heat in his cheeks, keeping his focus entirely on his target, whose head start was doing little to match his and Star's speed, quickly gaining on the girl.

The door to the roof busted open as Janna emerged, running toward the edge with Star and Marco right on her heels. Janna didn't even hesitate as she jumped off the roof, sailing flawlessly through the air before landing on the rooftop of the next building. She turned to give the two a victorious smirk before running away at top speed again.

Marco and Star, however, were far from beaten, the two racing ahead with no fear or hesitation as they too leaped off the building's side, landing on the next roof in perfect synchronization. Janna turned to see the two chasing after her again and she smiled to herself. This was just the challenge she had been hoping for.

The chase across Paris continued, Janna leaping from rooftop to rooftop, with little to no regard for her own safety, even the breakneck drop that waited below and the cold, bitter wind rushing against her face doing nothing to slow her pace. She began trying to dissuade the two agents from following as she took riskier and more dangerous jumps, knowing from experience that Marco would more than likely take the safest route available, rather than risk injury for him or his girlfriend. That boy was always too overly cautious for his own good, something Janna was hoping to use to her advantage.

But for once, Marco didn't seem to be falling back on his safe ways, keeping pace with his target as he precariously threw himself across every gap he came across. Star happily doing the same, looking like she was having the time of her life, chasing after the elusive thief with her boyfriend.

At this point, Marco's lungs and limbs were screaming at him to stop and allow them to rest. But the boy didn't listen, instead pressing them harder to continue. He was going to catch her this time, he was sure of it. And his hopes rose as he saw the row of buildings was soon coming to an end, instead opening up into a near-empty harbor, the light from the moon catching in the gentle waves and causing the water to shimmer and dazzle. That was definitely too far for even Janna to jump.

The girl seemed to notice this as she brought herself to a stop, just inches away from the edge. She turned to face the two agents, who were both huffing and puffing at this point, exhausted from the long trek over the Paris skyline. But they smiled at her with tired but victorious smirks, Star saying in a gasped breath, "Ha, looks like we win! You're trapped!"

"Just give up, Janna, there's nowhere else for you to run," Marco added, his voice low and full of finality.

"Maybe not," the girl said in a soft tone, keeping her face blank, before she smirked and added cryptically, "But maybe I don't have to." Her eyes snapped over to the waiting harbor below, before returning over to the two agents. Star and Marco gave her quizzical looks for a second before they both gasped in shock, realizing what she was saying.

"Wait, you aren't seriously going to try and jump that, are you?!" Star asked in disbelief, her eyes widening some in worry.

"No way, Star, she's just bluffing!" Marco said confidently.

"Are you sure about that?" Janna asked, taking a step closer to the edge, a gust of wind nearly knocking her hat off her head but she stood unmoving against it, bracing herself against its biting chill.

Star looked over to her boyfriend, cupping a hand around her mouth as she whispered to him, "I don't know, Marco. She seems pretty serious."

The boy agent paused, heeding his girlfriend's advice and giving his target a closer examination, taking in Janna's relaxed and almost teasing posture, her eyes showing no sign of hesitance or concern. Marco inwardly cringed, Star was right she was definitely up to something. But he didn't let it show as he again warned the girl, "You can't make that jump, Janna. Just surrender peacefully and things will go easier for you."

Janna cocked her head to the side, making a big show of thinking this over, tapping a finger against her chin in a clearly mocking manner. "Hmm, I don't know. 'Surrender' and 'peaceful' aren't exactly in my vocabulary." Keeping her gaze locked on the two agents she took a step closer to the edge, her foot now partially off the building, a wide smirk growing on her face as she added, "Besides since when have I ever taken the easy route."

Then, without another word, the girl turned and lunged forward, kicking off of the roof with all her might, sending her form flying smoothly through the air. At the same time, Marco lunged for her, hoping to catch her before she was out of reach. "Oh no you don't!" he screamed, his hand reaching out to grab onto her signature cloak. But he was just milliseconds too short, his fingers barely brushing the bright red fabric before it slipped through his fingertips, leaving him touching nothing but air... and falling quickly and precariously toward the waiting water below. Marco let out a high-pitched scream, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to somehow slow himself, before splashing into the cold moonlit harbor, a spray of water sent hurtling through the air.

Janna, however, remained as calm as ever, holding out an arm and firing off her grappling gun once again, it easily connecting to the side of a building across the stream before yanking her quickly towards it, the trained thief doing a quick flip in the air before landing expertly on the rooftop.

Star, who had watched the whole display from the safety of the nearby building, muttered to herself, "Oh right, grappling hook. Forgot she had that."

Down below, Marco surfaced, coughing and spluttering as he spat out as much water as he could from his lungs, looking shocked and bewildered from the unexpected dive. His spiked hair now lay flat and clung to his head at awkward angles, his form shuddering in the frigid temperature.

Janna looked smugly down to the young agent and then back up to Star before saying, "Well this has been fun, but I got to run." The girl then began making her way across the rooftop, walking smoothly and steadily now that she didn't have to worry about being pursued. She kept her back to them as she waved her goodbye, shouting, "Congrats on the wedding by the way! Make sure to send me some pictures."

Once the girl was out of sight, Star turned her attention back to her boyfriend, asking in concern, "Marco, you okay?"

The boy let out an exhausted sigh. "I'm fine," he said dejectedly.

"You sure?" Star questioned, not looking quite convinced. "Nothing's hurting?"

"Just my pride," the boy admitted, looking sadly off into the distance, the exact direction his target was now headed.

Star gave her fiance a sympathetic look, before adding, "You want me to go after her."

The boy shook his head, slouching forward as his face hardening into an angry scowl. "Nah, there's no point. She's probably long gone by now."

"Okay well, in that case, I'm coming down to help you," Star replied.

Marco's eyebrow raised in confusion, not quite understanding what his girlfriend was implying. "Wait, what do you mean by-" he started to ask, only to be interrupted by a loud shout above, looking up to see Star diving off the building too, letting out a cheer of excitement as she free-fell through the cold, night air.

"Wait, wait, wait, Star don't, it's too cold!" The boy shouted in warning, waving his hands wildly but it was too late as Star splashed down into the bay right next to him, sending a wave of freezing cold water into his face and leaving him spluttering once more. Star surfaced a second later, water dripping from her bangs as she giggled at her Marco's startled face.

The boy let out a few deep breaths, still in shock from being pelted with the icy cold water but soon found himself smiling too, his fiance's laugh too infectious for him to resist. And pretty soon Marco was laughing too, pressing his forehead to Star's and bringing his arms around her, the two floating on the water's surface as one. "You know we're gonna be in big trouble for not catching Janna, right?" Marco reminded Star, though it was light and warm in comparison to just a few minutes ago.

"Aww, we'll get her next time," Star reassured the boy, cupping his cold cheeks in her hands, the warmth of her fingers causing Marco's whole face to tingle. "Besides, I already know where's she heading."

"Wait, you do?" Marco gasped in surprise.

Star gave her boyfriend a quick wink, saying in a flirty tone, "You're not the only one who can gather intel, y'know." Marco continued to give his partner a disbelieving look, not that he should be too surprised. Star was amazing and when she put her mind to it, there was nothing she couldn't do.

"So where's she headed?" Marco asked curiously.

"Welllll, judging by the direction she was going I would say our Scarlet Thief is heading for the train station. It's only like a block away from here and we both know Janna is known to try and skip town the first chance she gets," Star explained, while her fiance just listened in awe. "So all we gotta do is head over there and find out which train she got on."

"How do you know that?" the boy asked, raising a playful eyebrow at his bride-to-be.

Star shrugged. "Reasons," she said vaguely.

"Like?" the boy pressed, giving her a flirty look he knew she couldn't resist.

Star blushed slightly as she replied, "Let's just say I've had my eye on this place for a while now. You may be in charge of planning the wedding, but I'm in charge of the honeymoon."

The boy instantly froze, his face turning a dark shade of red that easily surpassed the color on his tie. He definitely hadn't been expecting that answer and he had to cough into his hand to clear his tight throat, looking away from the beautiful piercing blue of his girlfriend. "Oh yeah, okay, great, that's uhhh... that's great," the boy muttered nervously, Star holding back a giggle at the embarrassed blush on her Marco's cheeks.

Instead, the blond let out a loving sigh, giving her adorable fiance's small form a quick squeeze, as she squealed out, "Aw Marco, your so cute!" But she quickly added in a determined, serious tone, "But we can flirt later! Right now we got a job to do!"

"Yeah!" Marco shouted, pumping a fist into the air, too, before the two shared a quick high five. Just as their hands connected, a motorboat sped by them, sending a wave of freezing cold water washing over them. Both of the highly trained agents froze in place, their hands still touching as Marco muttered behind chattering teeth, "But first things first, let's get out of this water before one of us freezes to death!"

"Agreed," Star replied, her form shaking in perfect sync with her boyfriend's as they both began furiously swimming for shore and hopefully some much-needed warmth.

…

Janna was able to board the train out of Paris without any complications whatsoever. Mostly due to the fact that Alfonso had purchase Janna a ticket in advance, under his partner's direction, though being sure to give the conductor a fake name since Janna was a very wanted criminal at the moment. The young hacker had shown reluctant at first towards the plan, saying that even with a fake name she could still be recognized and that it would safer to just sneak onboard. But Janna had been quick to argue, saying that Al was just being paranoid and worried too much... which he absolutely did. But despite his concerns, Alfonso had gone ahead with the purchase, making sure Miss Hanna Orlandia had a ticket out of the city.

And just as Janna had predicted, nobody paid her any mind, the conductor barely batting an eye in her direction as he just lazily punched her ticket and sent her on her way. Janna, of course, making a smug comment to Alfonso which caused the boy to groan in annoyance and accept defeat... this time.

From there it had been as simple as stashing the briefcase in one of the storage cars, making sure it was buried under a pile of luggage and wouldn't be accidentally discovered by any noisy passengers, leaving Janna free to enjoy the trip.

She slowly walked through the row of cars looking for her seat, ignoring the irregular shifting beneath her feet as the train carried forth at rapid speed, already fast on its way to her destination. "Sooo that could have gone... better," Al said in her ear, trying to lighten the mood and the girl chuckled.

"Yeah, but we did get to see the power couple so I'd call that a win," she responded, ignoring the weird looks she was getting from the few passengers that went by. "And we just got away scot-free."

"I don't know Janna," Al responded nervously. "This just seemed too easy."

Easy. Yeah for him, maybe, all he had done was sit there and give out directions, Janna was the one who had been in a hot pursuit across Paris with two of the most highly-trained secret agents in the world. "Oh relax Al," Janna replied with a roll of her eyes. He could be so over-dramatic sometimes. "We're fine."

"Yeah, Al relax," came a familiar voice through the earpiece.

"Ferguson! How long have you been up?!"

"Mmm," Ferguson hummed thoughtfully. "Probably about three minutes or so."

"Well if you're up than can you do me a favor and clean the dishes, the sink is full again and it's your turn."

"Whaaaattt nooo," Ferguson whined. "Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm busy helping Janna," Alfonso explained, sounding exasperated with the discussion already.

"Well let me help Janna and then you can do the dishes," Ferg suggested excitedly.

"No way! I'm not letting you touch my system, you don't know anything about it!" Al argued loudly.

"Aw come on how hard can it be if you do it?"

"Ferg, I said no!"

The speaker quickly filled with the sound of the two wrestling, Alfonso probably trying to push Ferguson back from his expensive and highly breakable equipment. After a few seconds of listening to the annoying grunts of them fighting, Janna pulled out her earpiece, knowing they could go on like this for a while and she was in the mood for some peace and quiet.

She reached her own reserved car, smiling softly to herself as she saw the door was already open, alerting her someone was already inside. And she had a pretty good idea who.

And the moment she stepped inside her smirk widened as her suspicions were proven correct, he was there. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms stretched out on the back of his seat trying to look as casual as possible. His hair was spiked just like she had remembered it and the familiar pink color made Janna inwardly chuckle. He wore a bright red shirt with a star on the front and a long black leather jacket, black gloves with the fingers torn off, and black jeans. His shoes were his typical orange boots. In short, Tom Lucitor looked as great as ever.

He gave her a devilish grin, saying in a smooth tone, "Thought you'd show up, took you long enough, though."

Janna put a hand to her hip and said in the teasing tone she reserved only for her greatest rival, "Aw, Pinkie what a surprise."

The boy's calm demeanor shattered as he growled at the hated nickname. "I told you my hair is salmon!"

"Mmm yeah I'm still gonna call you Pinkie," Janna replied with a shrug, taking the seat across from him.

Tom groaned, crossing his arms in a pouting gesture. "Yep your still as intolerable as ever," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"And your still as angry as ever," the girl replied, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs and resting her hands behind her head. "So what brings you to Paris, the City of Love, don't tell me you've gone all sappy and turned into a romantic."

"You know me better than that, Jan," Tom replied, flashing her a cocky grin. He leaned forward a bit, before saying in a knowing tone, "And I think you already know why I'm here."

Janna smiled. "Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it."

Tom's gaze narrowed slightly before he began in a threatening tone, "I want you-"

"You want me?" Janna interrupted with a mock look of surprise. "Well looks like you are turning into a romantic."

Tom growled angrily under his breath as he spat out through clenched teeth, "I want you to give me the statue."

"What statue?" Janna asked, feigning ignorance.

Tom just rolled his eyes before snapping, "The Golden Dancer! The one you stole from the museum."

"What makes you think I stole anything?" Janna asked, her cryptic tone never ceasing and the smile on her face told Tom that she was very much enjoying herself, much to his annoyance. "Can't a girl visit Paris without having some ulterior motive?"

"Yes, but you're not most girls," Tom stated simply, and for the first time since she had gotten there Janna's cheeks got the slightest tinge of pink.

"Aww, you flatter me, Tom," Janna cooed coyly, winking at him.

"That wasn't a compliment," Tom stated, trying to hide the joy he felt at making her blush. She was so cute when she was blushing, it almost made him forgive how aggravating she could be.

"Yes, it was," Janna said calling his bluff, and Tom felt his cheeks heat up again against his will, growling to try and hide his embarrassment.

Almost. He almost forgave her. But something told him, she wanted it this way, which was why being around her was so frustrating. She always knew just what to say to set him off. "Look are you gonna give me the statue or do I have to make you," he threatened, wanting to just get to the point and get this whole confrontation over with before he was reminded anymore how much he had missed her. His hand slowly moved to his pocket, making sure his movements were subtle enough she didn't pick up on them.

"Hmmm," she hummed, tapping a finger to her chin, clearly thinking it over or at least pretending to. "Yeah no, I don't think so. I stole it fair and square. You want it so bad you should have stolen it yourself." Tom smirked. "Why would I do that, when I got you?" He leaned forward, his malicious grin widening with every word, looking proud of himself for conning the elusive thief. "I followed you all the way, here, y'know. And I didn't even have to try to find you, you made your presence well known. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were slipping Janna." His hand now grasped the electric stun baton from within the confines of his pocket, ready to draw it out and use it to knock his annoying rival out cold. But then Janna did something unexpected, she leaned in closer to him, freezing the boy in place as his heart began hammering in his chest. Soon their faces were just inches apart, Tom looking deep into Janna's brown gaze, a soft, almost sincere look on her face and he wondered if she was actually opening up to him for once. Her fingers began tracing lines on his shirt as she softly whispered, "Or maybe I wanted you to find me."

Tom tried not to shudder as her warm breath tickled his skin. Her lips were so close now, challenging him, teasing him to move in, but no matter how much he wanted to (oh man did he want to) he knew better than to let his guard down around her. "Wh-Why would you do that?" He asked, trying to hide the squeak in his voice.

And then Janna moved in even closer until her lips were almost touching his as she said in the most honest and sincere tone he had ever heard come from her lips, "Cause I missed you, Tom."

The boy gulped but found himself actually moving in for the kiss, all ulterior motives, all scheme, all logic thrown out the window as he attempted to capture that which he had never yet been able to steal: Janna's affection.

But just before their lips brushed, Tom felt a stinging sensation in his side, which then turned into a powerful burning. He let out a yelp of pain as he looked down, only to see Janna had snatched the baton from his pocket and had it pressed into his side, electrocuting him.

"Sorry, Pinkie," he heard Janna say to him in an apologetic tone, but it was distant and fuzzy as his brain began to shut down. "But you know the first rule of dealing with a thief. Never let them get too close."

Tom let out one last growl of annoyance before he lost consciousness, falling back against his seat, asleep.

Janna pulled the device away the second she saw the boy's eyes close and quickly pocketed the device. It was very nicely made, she might have some use for it in the future. For a few seconds, she just stared at his sleeping face, looking so cute and peaceful you couldn't even tell that beneath lie a hotheaded, temperamental thief. He was too much fun to tease when awake, but asleep he was irresistible. Which was why she couldn't help but lean over and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, letting her armor crack for a second as she whispered to his sleeping form, "See you around, Tom."

She stood, stepping back out into the hallway, giving him one last longing look over her shoulder before closing the door to the train car sealing the sleeping teen inside.

Once she had put some distance between her and her unconscious rival, she slipped her earpiece back on, saying smoothly, "Hey Al, what'd I miss?"

"Janna?!" Came the worried, expected shriek of her friend. It was clear he had been panicking for a while now. "What happened? I lost contact with you. Did something go wrong?"

"Nah, not really," the girl lied instantly. "Must have just had a bad signal there for a while."

"Well that's a relief," Alfonso said with a sigh. "For a minute there I was afraid you ran into that hot-headed rival of yours. That would have been a total disaster."

"Wellllll, actually," the girl said in a purposely overly hesitant way.

Alfonso let out a long sigh. "Spoke too soon," he muttered under his breath.

...

The train pulled into the station an hour later, a crowd of passengers emerging from the train in a hurry, eager to stretch their legs after the long trip. And hiding in plain sight, the thief in red whistled as she strode along, an almost skip in her step as she carried the large briefcase loosely at her side. She made her way to the dock, where a large boat waited for her, giving the captain a wink as she boarded, letting him know it was her and he nodded to tell her he understood. He said something over to one of the crew who ran off to inform them now they were good to go. Not even a minute later the ship was already plowing it's way out of the harbor and heading toward open ocean.

The captain went over to greet her, saying pleasantly enough, "Miss Ordonia, glad to see you made it." His gaze slowly lowered to the briefcase, eying it greedily for a second. "And by the looks of it, your heist was a success."

"Captain Carrots, a pleasure as always," Janna said with a smile. "I trust my colleague already paid you in full."

"Aye yes, your friend already sent us the cash."

"And did he give you my instructions?"

The captain nodded. "Aye, he did."

"Good, then since you know our destination, I'll leave the rest to you," Janna said, going to walk around him but he stepped into her way, blocking her path off.

"Why don't you let me take that off your hands," the captain offered slowly reaching down to grab the briefcase, Janna hearing the greed and desperation in his voice. "Me and my crew will make sure it reaches its buyer safely."

Janna quickly bat his hand away and positioned her body so the briefcase was no longer in his line of sight, wagging a scolding finger at him while clicking her tongue in disappointment. "Nice try, Captain, but I wasn't born yesterday," she said with a smirk, the captain gritting his teeth at her. "And I was given strict instructions by my employer to deliver the statue myself and to make sure I personally handed it over to him. But if you'd like I'd be happy to call and let him know-" Janna made a show of reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.

"No!" The captain shouted, putting a hand up to try and stop her. Janna gave him a knowing smile as he cleared his throat, continuing much softer, "No that won't be necessary." He plastered on a forced smile that was just priceless to the young thief who was enjoying every second of this, though she made sure not to let it show... not too much at least.

"Good," Janna said, slipping the phone back in her pocket, the superior grin never leaving her face. "Then I'll leave you to your job and you can leave me to mine."

The young thief then pushed her way past the man, leaving the fuming captain alone to rage as she found a seat near the back of the boat, her back literally against the rail that prevented her from falling into the crystal clear waters below her. The second she sat down she felt a lurch as the boat propelled forward at an even faster speed now that they had reached deeper waters, quickly on it's way to Janna's next destination. The girl set the package down at her side, before letting out a relaxed sigh, leaning back in her seat, feeling the cool breeze of the ocean washing over her as she stared out at the picturesque ocean waves for a second.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Alfonso said in her ear.

"What messing with the captain, of course, I did?" The girl admitted, no shame in her tone. "He was trying to con me, so I just let him know who he was dealing with."

"You know, you wouldn't have to do that if you let me hire a law-abiding citizen instead of a dirty, crooked conman."

"Wheres the fun in that? Besides haven't you ever heard the phrase 'honor among thieves'."

"Yes, but the more time I spend with you the more convinced I am that it's a bunch of nonsense," Al deadpanned.

Janna chuckled at that, before saying, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"I know."

Alfonso sighed and she heard the distinct sound of the young genius banging his head against his desk (it wasn't the first time one of their conversations had ended that way and the thief was slightly curious if there was an indent in his desk from how many times he had done it). Janna decided to show a little mercy for her friend and change the subject, saying, "Oh relax, Al. Look on the bright side, we got the painting with minimal damage, got to see our favorite power couple, and even managed to get away from Tom unscathed. Sounds like a pretty successful mission to me."

"Yeah," Alfonso agreed halfheartedly. "Guess there is that. Let's just hope we threw that hothead off our track for a while."

Janna smiled thoughtfully to herself, bringing up the mental image of the handsome thief into her mind. "I don't know, something tells me we'll be seeing him again very soon," she replied, unable to resist adding a knowing edge to her tone that the young hacker picked up on instantly.

"Janna, what did you do?" He asked in exasperation, hoping she hadn't done what he feared she had done. Knowing her, it was entirely likely.

Janna didn't reply, just smiling smugly to herself as she stared across the waves at the fading sunset on the horizon, wondering what the next day would bring her, while her head spun with the image of gorgeous red eyes.

…

Tom was furious the moment he had woken up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth, feeling a bizarre mixture of regret, disappointment, and rage. But mostly rage. And all of it was directed at one soul individual. Stupid Janna! He couldn't believe he had actually fallen for such an obvious trick and he silently cursed himself for actually letting her get too close.

And now here he was, storming through the nearly empty train with a sour scowl on his face. He ignored the few passengers remaining, wanting to just leave without any further complications. Not that he was worried about getting caught since he had swiped a ticket out of some unfortunate soul's pocket when he snuck onboard, he just didn't want to be bothered until he got the chance to cool down. He wasn't sure where he was at this point since he had no clue how much time had passed while he was unconscious, for all he knew he could be in another country, for crying out loud!

Stupid Janna! This was all her fault. If she hadn't tried to-

Tom growled as his cheeks lit up with a blush, willing them back to their normal hue. How could he have been so stupid! He should have known better than to try and actually do that with her. Of course, it was a trick, ugh, how could he be such a moron?!

Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks as he spotted a pair up ahead, his heart leaping into his throat as he recognized the well-dressed couple, the boy holding a picture out toward the train conductor while his blond partner practically lay up against him as she stared over his shoulder, these two clearly having no sense of personal space with each other.

Great, Star and Marco were here, as if he didn't have enough to deal with, now he had the two best agents in Acme on his tail and he doubted they'd be all that happy to see him once again. Tom didn't waste any time as he quickly ducked into the empty train car beside him, knowing they were sure to recognize him the moment they spotted him his few run-ins with them memorable enough for him to leave a lasting impression and make him weary from encountering them again. He left the door open only a crack as he listened to the two's conversation while cursing whatever force had decided to give him this string of bad luck.

"Please look closely, sir. Are you certain you haven't seen her, it's very important," Marco asked the conductor, his voice friendly but professional as he pressed the man for more info.

"Hmmm, now that I'm looking at it, I do think I've seen her before, pretty sure she was sharing a car with a young man, I'll go check the books, see if I can find out which car it was," the conductor said, Tom listening as a pair of footsteps faded off into the distance.

Perfect, just perfect, Tom silently groaned. Now those two knew about him! Hopefully, they wouldn't put two and two together-

"Sooo Janna was with a young man, huh? Are you thinking who I'm thinking?" Star said in a knowing tone and Tom winced. Never mind.

"What, Tom?" Marco asked, sounding like he was deep in contemplation. "It could be, but that's a pretty big conclusion to draw Star."

Star scoffed loudly, Tom hearing a light smack (probably the girl lightly tapping her partner's shoulder). "Come on, Marco. It makes total sense. Think about it, those two are always hanging around each other..." Well, she wasn't entirely wrong. "... and you know they can barely keep their eyes off each other." Again, it was true, just not for the reason the blond agent seemed to be drawing.

"So what you think their partners?"

"Well that and also secretly dating," Star added, sounding so proud of herself for figuring it out.

Tom nearly fainted right there, his cheeks filling with so much blood he nearly passed out from blood loss in the rest of his limbs. How could they seriously think he would have any feelings toward his annoying rival other than disgust. But his mind betrayed him, momentarily flashing back to Janna's form slowly moving in for what seemed to be a loving kiss and he vigorously shook his head to relieve himself from the memory, willing down his now racing pulse.

"Dating?" Marco said skeptically. "I mean I guess it's possible..."

"Of course it is!" Star said confidently. "Those two are crazy about each other." She paused before adding in a sappy, loving coo, "Almost as crazy as I am for you."

"Well I don't think anybody could be more in love than I am with you, Star," Marco replied in an equally flirty tone. Tom tried not to gag at the young couple's overly affectionate ways. Could these two be any cheesier?

"Aww Marco, you are too sweet!" Star squealed. She sounded more like a lovesick teenager than a highly trained agent.

The boy let out a long, disheartened sigh as he muttered, "But y'know, I still can't believe I fell for her tricks again!"

Marco face-palmed, flushing in embarrassment as the previous events of the night came back to him, looping through his head and making him feel more and more ridiculous with every cycle. "Why is Janna always one step ahead of us! Every time I think about what happened, I just feel like an idiot." He buried his head in his hands with an audible groan, while out of sight of the two Tom was nodding in agreement and annoyance. He could totally relate.

Star gave her boyfriend a sympathetic look, seeing just how badly he needed cheering up. Luckily, the blond knew just what to do to help. She gave Marco a flirty grin, grabbing onto his tie and lightly pulling him towards her, causing the boy to let out a startled squeak, their faces now mere inches from touching. "Well, I think I know a way to get your mind off of that," she whispered coyly, causing a shudder to jump up Marco's spine.

"Starrr," Marco muttered in embarrassment, his eyes jumping around the empty train car, making sure they were, in fact, alone. "This isn't a good time, we're on a mission, remember? What if someone sees us?"

But Star didn't seem to be giving up, simply replying seductively, "Let em look. I've been waiting to kiss my future husband all day and I'm not waiting any longer." With that, Star moved in for the kill, her fiance's lips about to be captured and claimed by her once more.

Meanwhile, the disgusted Tom was busy debating on either staying quiet or slamming the door open and turning himself in (both of which had some major cons) when the voice of the conductor suddenly cut into the moment, much to Tom's relief, saying pleasantly to the two agents, "Okay I think I found it."

Tom could hear a small shout from the two, followed by noisy shuffling as they obviously pulled apart from each other. The thief could hear a loud cough from Marco (probably trying to clear his tight throat) as he said in a forced, formal tone, "Uhh, good. T-That's excellent news, sir."

There was a pause before the conductor asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" the young couple shouted much to quickly and Tom couldn't help but smirk from his hiding spot. Geez, why were they acting all embarrassed? Weren't they about to be married or whatever? "Anyways, what'd you find out?" Marco asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Well according to the record, someone with your description purchased a ticket in advance under the name of Hanna Orlandia," the conductor explained.

Star scoffed loudly, saying in a disappointed tone, "Really, that's the name she went with? Come on, Janna you're more clever than that."

"Star, don't compliment our criminal," Marco scolded.

"I'm just saying, that's kinda a lazy fake name," Star said, defensively.

"Oh yeah, and what would your fake name have been?" Marco asked his girlfriend in a playful tone.

"I don't know maybe something cool like Carmen or something."

"Ummmm, did you want me to go on or-" the conductor asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah, right," Marco said in realization. "Continue."

"Well, she was staying in train car 15 along with a young man with pink hair." Tom had to suppress the growl he felt rising in his throat. It was salmon, not pink? Why did nobody ever get that?!

"Ah hah!" Star exclaimed in victory. "Told you it was Tom!"

"Yeah, guess you were right. I mean, i don't really know too many guys with pink hair," Marco replied in agreement. Salmon!

"Can you take us to their car? Maybe they left behind a clue or something," Star asked, the conductor immediately complying, saying, "Right this way."

Tom listened intensely as the sound of footsteps retreated deeper into the train, fading into the distance, along with Star's long rant to her boyfriend about how he and Janna were clearly dating and working together (which he did his best to ignore). He waited until they were completely out of earshot before pulling the door to the train car open, doing a quick check left and right before smirking and making his way over to the exit.

Once he was outside on the narrow streets of some unknown city, he picked a random direction and started walking, needing to put as much distance between himself and the two agents as he could. That had been a close one, much closer than Tom liked, but at least he hadn't had to deal with Star and Marco directly. He still had bruises from their last encounter, those two packing a big punch despite their appearance... especially when working as a team. No, as annoying and inconvenient as it had been, it could still have turned out much worse for him.

Sure they knew he had been there, but they wouldn't find anything. That much he was sure of since he had made sure to leave nothing behind that could be used to track him, despite the blinding rage he had felt after-

Tom let out a low growl as the memory of earlier entered his mind, anger filling his chest once again. Right, he had almost forgotten about stupid Janna and her stupid tricks. Why had he even followed her there in the first place? Hadn't he learned by now to steer clear of Janna and her obnoxious, charming ways? All she ever did was make trouble for him. What had he been thinking?

The boy roughly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to ignore the obvious answer that kept popping into his mind, refusing to admit just how badly he had wanted to see her again. He paused though, as his fingers brushed up against something. Tom came to an immediate stop as he dug around in his pocket, his fingers tightening around what felt like some sort of ticket or something before pulling out a small slip of paper. Tom stared at it stunned for a moment, knowing instantly who it was from. There was only one person who could have slipped this into his pocket without him knowing, presumably when he was unconscious. Finally, after a few more seconds, he slowly unfolded the note, confusion pinching his eyebrows as he read the soft, delicate handwriting, his heart thumping once against his will. Can't wait for our next date. See you in Venice, Pinkie. -Love, the Scarlet Thief

For a few moments, all Tom could do was read and re-read the note over and over again, his cheeks pooling with more and more blood every time his eyes crossed the words 'Pinkie' or 'Love'. Finally, after several minutes of contemplation, Tom silently folded the note back up, slipping it back into his pocket.

He just stood there for another moment, letting the words sink in, his gaze slowly turning to the rising sun over on the horizon, its bright colors seeming to be a perfect representation of his heart right now. Glowing.

And then Tom did something he almost never did, he let all his barriers drop, allowing himself a long, warm smile. But this was not just any smile, this was the widest, goofiest, most lovestruck smile that had ever crossed his features, one only those who were hopelessly and passionately in love could conceive. And despite how annoying and obnoxious and difficult Janna Ordonia the Scarlet Thief could be... Tom would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to know he would be seeing her again very soon.

Hope you enjoyed! Jantom is impossible for me to resist and I had to put in my daily dose of Starco or it just wouldn't feel right to me. So I might continue this someday in the future but for now I'm keeping it as a one-shot. I just don't have enough time at the moment to make more (plus I don't really have any more ideas for heists or whatever) but if you want you are welcome to send me ideas for it in case I ever do continue. Like I said no promises.

Anyways that'll do it for me, hope you have a great week and stay safe and healthy! Stay awesome, Stardom! Especially all you Jantom shippers out there ;)

[brooklynmuseum]

The Brooklyn Museum mourns the loss of Dr. David C. Driskell, whose scholarship, teaching, and curatorial work were instrumental in defining the field of African American art history. His landmark, traveling exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art, which made its final stop at the Brooklyn Museum in 1977, featured work by more than 200 artists and transformed the ways in which American museums framed and presented histories of African American art. An artist himself, his work was included in the Museum’s recent presentation of Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power.

Reflecting on Two Centuries of Black American Art in 2009, Dr. Driskell recounted how he wanted to bring “patterns of exclusion, segregation, and racism to the attention of the art public. [. . .] But it was also about engaging the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, ‘No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.’”

We are grateful to Dr. Driskell for his immeasurable contributions to the field of art history, and will continue to carry his scholarship and his lessons with us.

***

“When Dr. Driskell spoke at the Brooklyn Museum last year as part of the programming for Soul of a Nation, he told me backstage how he had been on our stage in the 60s with civil rights heroes such as James Baldwin. He was so happy to have returned and could not have been more full of grace. Dr. Driskell has left a profound mark on the Museum’s history. While we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the ways that he shaped a history of African American art and advanced both the field and our institutions with clarity and conviction.”

– Anne Pasternak, Shelby White and Leon Levy Director

“An artist, educator, art historian, and curator across at least five decades, Dr. Driskell’s impact was not only field defining but field generating. When we talk about the ongoing project that is the writing and presentation of black art history against its erasure and/or dismissal, we must keep close what it meant for scholars like Driskell who began this work with few blueprints, summoning the great courage and clarity necessary to name and advocate for the importance of black art history – in the face of so many cynics and detractors. I live with gratitude for that fortitude. It was my absolute honor to include Dr. Driskell in the Brooklyn presentation of Soul of a Nation, and an even bigger honor to meet him and to welcome him to the museum for an unforgettable conversation with Dr. Elizabeth Alexander in the fall of 2018. I will hold that memory close.”

– Ashley James, Associate Curator, Guggenheim Museum, and former Assistant Curator, Contemporary Art, Brooklyn Museum

Two Centuries of Black American Art, June 25, 1977 through September 05, 1977 (Image: Brooklyn Museum photograph, 1977)

“Dr. Driskell's 1977 exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art intended to, in his words, engage "the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, 'No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.'" Museums are still catching up to this proposition today, and we can all benefit from acknowledging how much there is to learn from each other. And we learned so much from him!

In the New York Times review of that exhibition, critic Hilton Kramer dispraised the show, asking "Is it black art or is it social history?" Dr. Driskell responded: "All art is social history; it's all made by human beings. And, consequently, it has its role in history."

Rest in power Dr. Driskell.”

– Carmen Hermo, Associate Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“When I was an undergrad art history student at the University of Maryland, I ran the student art gallery and while this was between the time when Dr. Driskell served as Chair of the Art Department and when he was named Distinguished Professor, he was always interested and supportive of the clique of young artists and future art historians who hung out at the West Gallery. His generosity made a real impression on me and every time he walked in the gallery I would become completely tongue-tied.”

– Catherine Morris, Sackler Senior Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“Although I never got to know Dr. David C. Driskell personally, I did have the opportunity to hear him speak several times. When I first began studying African American art in college, I understood that David Driskell was a pioneer in the field. But, when I tucked into seats in buzzing lectures hall to hear Dr. Driskell speak as a grad student or subsequently as a museum professional, I heard about conversations with Aaron Douglas or summer at Skowhegan--Dr. Driskell painted a picture of a life lived with the people that made up the history I was devoted to studying. With the passing of Dr. Driskell, a connection to the past has been irrevocably severed.”

– Dalila Scruggs, Fellowship Coordinator, Education

“David Driskell’s life took him from a one-room segregated schoolhouse in North Carolina to the White House. Under the Clinton administration, Driskell, acknowledged as a leading expert on African American Art, worked with Mrs. Clinton to acquire a great landscape by Henry Ossawa Tanner, who became the first Black artist to enter the White House collection. This is only one example of the many doors Driskell opened in his quest to tell a more truthful and complete story of American history and culture.”

– Eugenie Tsai, John and Barbara Vogelstein Senior Curator, Contemporary Art

“I did not have the opportunity to meet Dr. David C. Driskell, but I fondly recall seeing him speak at a CASVA symposium, The African American Art World in 20th-Century Washington, D.C., at the National Gallery of Art in 2017. There, he participated in a panel discussion with other artists (moderated by Ruth Fine) regarding the city’s impact on his own artistic development. He spoke with such passion about James A. Porter and the legacy of his teaching at Howard University.

Driskell has also left an indelible imprint on the Brooklyn Museum and its own exhibition program, most recently with his inclusion in Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power. In 1976, he curated Two Centuries of Black American Art, which opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in 1976 and subsequently traveled to the Brooklyn Museum in 1977. In this groundbreaking exhibition and publication, he defined the “evolution of a black aesthetic” and called attention to such important eighteenth- and nineteenth-century artists as Joshua Johnson, Robert S. Duncanson, and Henry Ossawa Tanner, among many others. Driskell has significantly shaped my own thinking on American art and, in my own research, I am reminded of his rediscovery of the landscape painter Edward Mitchell Bannister who, after his death in 1901, remained largely forgotten.

Edward Mitchell Bannister (American, 1828-1901). Untitled (Cow Herd in Pastoral Landscape), 1877. Oil on linen canvas. Brooklyn Museum Brooklyn Museum Fund for African American Art, 2016.10

A tireless advocate for Black artists, Driskell led the charge in redefining the mainstream art historical canon. He forever changed the discipline and paved the way for so many, and for that I am grateful.”

– Margarita Karasoulas, Assistant Curator of American Art

Clips from Two Centuries of Black American Art, Los Angeles County Museum of Art © Pyramid Films, 1976. Brooklyn Museum Archives.

“One of the greatest treasures in the Brooklyn Museum Archives are the five videos that document the Symposium Afro-American Art: Form, Content, and Direction that occurred on June 24th and 25th, 1977 that was organized by David Driskell, the Schomburg Center, and Brooklyn Museum Staff in conjunction with the Two Centuries of Black American Art exhibition. In the afternoon of the first day, Romare Bearden, Selma Burke, Jacob Lawrence, John Rhoden, Ernest Crichlow, Vincent Smith, Bob Blackburn, Roy De Cavara, Valerie Maynard, and William T. Williams talked on stage for three hours about their artistic practices within the context of twentieth-century art traditions. It’s staggering to think of all those brilliant artists in conversation together—watching the footage, hearing the artists in their own words is profoundly moving.

When researchers are looking into the exhibition or are curious about the Museum’s history of exhibiting Black Artists, I’m always excited to share the material produced for, by, and of the exhibition. The archival material includes visitor comment books, the press kit, 22 folders of correspondence, the film produced for the exhibition, and the aforementioned symposium videos. The programming built around the exhibition was legendary, and the breadth is rarely seen today: seven artist studio visits (Howardena Pindell!), six supplemental exhibitions at other venues (The Abstract Continuum at Just Above Midtown Gallery!), twenty-two gallery talks (Dr. Rosalind Jeffries on the Harlem Renaissance!), dance performances (Sounds in Motion Dance Company!), concerts, and the list goes on. Driskell’s vision had a deep seismic effect on the art world. The people brought together at these events and programs, the knowledge shared, learned, and passed on to subsequent generations, none of this can be quantifiably measured or completely comprehended, especially from a remove, but its incredible magnitude can be felt when conducting research into the exhibition. Dozens of researchers have come to look into this history, and I look forward to welcoming future visitors to the Archives to learn more about David Driskell, hopefully inspiring them to perpetuate his monumental legacy.”

– Molly Seegers, Museum Archivist

[peternelthorpe]

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What kind of art do you like?

There are many opportunities to browse art within your community at local exhibitions, art fairs and galleries. Even small towns usually have a not-for-profit gallery space, or cafes and restaurant that exhibit local artists. In larger cities, galleries often get together for monthly or periodic “gallery nights” where all the galleries hold open house receptions on the same evening. Its a great way to see a lot of art in a short time.

Today the internet provides the largest variety and depth of fine art available worldwide. You can visit museum websites and see master works from ages past, check out online galleries for group shows, and visit hundreds of individual artists websites. One advantage of using the internet is that you can search for the specific kind of art you are interested in, whether its photography, impressionism, bronze sculpture, or abstract painting. And when you find one art site, youll usually find links to many, many more.

Should the art fit the room or the room fit the art?

If you feel strongly about a particular work of art, you should buy the art you love and then find a place to put it. But you may find that when you get the art home and place it on a wall or pedestal, it doesnt work with its surroundings. By not “working,” I mean the art looks out of place in the room. Placing art in the wrong surroundings takes away from its beauty and impact.

What should you do if you bring a painting home and it clashes with its environment? First, hang the painting in various places in your home, trying it out on different walls. It may look great in a place you hadnt planned on hanging it. If you cant find a place where the art looks its best, you may need to make some changes in the room, such as moving furniture or taking down patterned wallpaper and repainting in a neutral color. The changes will be worth making in order to enjoy the art you love.

Sometimes the right lighting is the key to showing art at its best. You may find that placing a picture light above a painting or directing track lighting on it is all the art needs to exhibit its brilliance. If you place a work of art in direct sunlight, however, be sure it wont be affected by the ultraviolet light. Pigments such as watercolor, pencil and pastel are especially prone to fading. Be sure to frame delicate art under UV protected glass or acrylic.

How to pick art to fit the room.

Size and color are the two major criteria for selecting art to fit its surroundings. For any particular space, art that is too large will overwhelm, and art that is too small will be lost and look out of proportion. The bolder the art, the more room it needs to breathe.

As a rule, paintings should be hung so that the center of the painting is at eye level. Sculpture may sit on the floor, a table, or pedestal, depending on the design. Rules should be considered guidelines only, however, so feel free to experiment.

When selecting a painting to match color, select one or two of the boldest colors in your room and look for art that has those colors in it. Youre not looking for an exact match here. Picking up one or two of the same colors will send a message that the painting belongs in this environment.

Another possibility for dealing with color is to choose art with muted colors, black-and-white art, or art that is framed in a way that mutes its color impact in the room. A wide light-colored mat and neutral frame create a protected environment for the art within.

Style is another consideration when selecting art to fit a room. If your house is filled with antiques, for example, youll want to use antique-style frames on the paintings you hang there. If you have contemporary furniture in large rooms with high ceilings, youll want to hang large contemporary paintings.

How to create an art-friendly room.

Think about it. When you walk into a gallery or museum, what do they all have in common? White walls and lots of light. If a wall is wall-papered or painted a color other than white, it limits the choices for hanging art that will look good on it. If a room is dark, the art will not show to its best advantage.

If you want to make art the center of attraction, play down the other elements of the room like window coverings, carpeting, wall coverings, and even furniture. A room crowded with other colors, textures and objects will take the spotlight away from the art. Follow the principle that less is more. Keep it spare and let the art star. Then relax and enjoy it.

Selecting and displaying art is an art in itself. Experiment to learn what pleases you and what doesnt. Youll be well-rewarded for the time you invest by finding more satisfaction both in the art and in your home.

[thiswasinevitableid]

What about #1 with induck? :3

I decided to make this part of three of “oh no I called the hero and I like him” and “where’s the hero when I need a hug.” But you can also read it as a stand alone.

1: How to make a plot villainous enough to attract they attention but tame enough they won’t get hurt 

Indrid stares at the screens, flipping between images and notes, dismissing them one after another. 

The scheme needs to hit just the right balance. 

It’s been a month and a half since The Green Knight, alias Duck Newton, snuck into his hideout to comfort him after his body and mind betrayed him by making him sad.

They’ve spoken not a word about it to each other. And Duck has once again reverted to only fighting Indrid with another member of the Pine Guard present. Duck kissed his forehead when he left that night, Indrid would bet his entire fortune on it. But Duck won’t even banter with him during battles. 

He’ll barely even look at him.

Does he revile Indrid so greatly that any affection between them must be made up for by a double measure of disinterest and mild disgust?

Indrid has thrown everything he can think of at him; if Duck sees him as a villain, then he will be a villain. He will fight, he will scheme, he will swear revenge. No matter how often he thinks of the way Duck fit against him, a puzzle piece in strange picture of this life. How his fingers itch to call him each night.

Even as he runs through his inner monologue he knows he's oversimplifying the matter.

You see, it’s not strictly true Duck hasn’t spoken to him. There have been no face to face talks or phone calls, that is a fact. But if one were to look at Indrid’s personal phone, one would find a text chain that is mainly images. Birds, trees, sunsets, a cat. 

The most he gets for context is:

Thought you might like this

Made me think of you. Don’t know why.

And, on the ones of moths

Look, it’s a cousin. 

And an even more recent one of an ice cream cone

Tried that Gelato place you liked. You’re right, it’s fucking baller.

Indrid replied blue moon, excellent choice.

He did not add that the flavor is mellow, sweet, and a bit strange, just like the man himself. 

He’d considered orchestrating a run-in at that shop, since Aubrey Little’s Instagram suggests Duck has been going there often with his friends. But Indrid has no doubt Mrs. Nyguen would ban him if he started a fight in her shop. 

Instead, he’s narrowed down his plot options to two: an art heist, or breaking into the mayor’s mansion. 

He has had his eye on that one Gauguin….

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

Indrid limbers up in the entryway of the museum. Between his powers and technological abilities, the main security was easy to disable. And there is a route to the post-impressionist gallery that will keep him clear of the more heavily secured rooms.

He pads across the tiles to the entrance of the traveling Monet exhibit. 

And sticks his foot into the path of the motion sensor he knows is there, setting off an alarm. 

He continues forward, setting off more alarms as he goes. Its when he’s in the modernist exhibit that the wisps of unease floating through his system coalesce into a form.

No security guards have appeared. He planned to disarm them and knock them out, and they should be here by now.

A glimpse at the futures gives him just enough time to turn and see a shape stepping into the arched doorway behind him.

“I was wondering if you’d turn up.” A clipped, cold voice muses as the figure produces a small remote, clicking it once to shut off the alarms. He recognizes the reflective white glasses when the figure grins at him. 

“The Flame. I, it can’t be, how did I-”

“Not see me coming? I don’t know, little brother. But at a guess it’s because you’ve lost your touch. Which would be of little concern to me, had your carelessness not just alerted our enemies to our presence here. So I will be need to be certain you cannot cause such issues in the future. Not to mention, one fewer villain in the city means one less person to stop me from taking  total control of the underworld.”

Indrid narrowly avoids a blast of white light, diving into the annex to his right. He doesn’t retaliate, activates his wings and shoots straight up through the skylight instead.

He’s not ready to fight the Flame. He’s never been ready. Not when they were children, training together. Not when they were sparring partners. Not when he’d finally had enough, when he saw just how much The Flame enjoyed hurting people. 

That’s why he ran from him in the first place. 

Landing on the roof, he considers his escape routes. Where is his nearest hideout, where is is his defensive equipment, where-

A small, clear orb hits the toe of his shoe. Even as he throws his arms around his eyes, he knows it won’t be enough. The light is blinding, bleaching his eyes as he crumples to the bricks beneath him. The next phase of the disorienter kicks in, high pitched tones drowning out his ability to hear anything, save for The Flame’s voice.

“You’ve become such a disappointment, little brother. First you abandon the life we trained for, your constitution too weak to handle the realities of our profession.”

“You, you speak as though I haven’t spent the last several years a prominent villain in my own right.”

“You’ve thrown in with some two-bit thieves and blackmailers, perhaps an eco-terrorist or an anarchist superhero when the mood struck. And you’re soft. The Indrid I knew would never hesitate to kill his rival by any means necessary. You’ve spared the Green Knight so many times I lost count.”

“You spied on me.”

“Of course. I, unlike some people, know how to scope the hero/villain layout of a town before making my debut. Good god, brother, you must have used your powers to determine your enemy’s name and true identity by now.”

“What I do with my powers is no business of yours.” He kicks a leg out in the direction of The Flame’s voice. The fear flooding his mind, scanning the futures for escape, means he fails to see the weapon before it connects with his shoulders. 

The scream of pain as electricity courses through him goes unheeded. The Flame does it a second time, and Indrid collapses, limp, on the ground. 

“Goodbye, little brother. So nice of you to lend my grand entrance into the city’s awareness an extra victim.”

Indrid loses consciousness to the sound of sparks. 

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

“Ned, can you get us closer?” Aubrey yells from her position on the wing of the hovercraft, “I need to be more in a closer range to control something this big!”

“I will do my best, but if the wings begin melting I reserve the right to get us the hell out of here!”

“There any way I can help, Lady Flame?” Duck leans over the passenger side of the craft, looking down at the blazing rooftop for the origin of the fire. 

“Grab me if I lose my balance?”

“Will do--oh, fuck! There’s someone down there. Aubrey, can you clear me a patch, right there, so I can jump down?”

“I can” the first half of the fire dies out when Aubrey makes a fist, “but that roof can’t be stable at this point.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Aubrey circles his arm twice, and a landing pad appears around the figure. He leaps from the craft, hits his mark right by the body’s feet. The smoke is still thick, even with Aubrey’s intervention, so he squints as he gathers the figure into his arms. 

“Don’t worry, we’re getting you out of here--ah! Oh come the fuck on!” He yells to no one in particular as the roof gives out beneath him. 

Landing on his knees, he’s relieved to find the fire never made it inside , though smoke did. In the flickering orange and spinning red and blue from the nearby emergency vehicles, he shifts the body in his arms, looks down with clear eyes for the first time. 

“.....Indrid?”

Nothing.

Indrid’s chest is corpse-cold in spite of the fire when Duck puts his ear against it. There’s a heartbeat there, a faint flutter that’s the most beautiful noise to ever grace his ears. 

Duck turns to the portraits on the walls, “what the fuck do I do now?”

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

The first thought in Indrid’s mind is: pine?

As he noses the soft pillowcase, still half-dreaming of coastal woods and a campfire, his eyes blink open. 

The room is dark, unfamiliar. Thick curtains cover the windows, thicker blankets coat the bed in which he’s laying. 

Cautiously, he pushes the covers aside and eases his feet onto the ground. His glasses are waiting for him on the bedside table, and his reflection in the closet mirror shows his thin frame covered in black sweatpants and a large shirt that reads “Devils Lake State Park.”

Hell has a sense of humor, it seems. A sense of humor and a very rustic decorating style. 

He opens the bedroom door, poking his head out into the dark hallway. Moves slowly, half from the stiffness between his shoulder blades from where The Flame hit him, and half from apprehension of what’s at the other end of the hall. 

The answer turns out to be anticlimactic; a living room, with a kitchen off to one side. 

Maybe the flames and sulfur are waiting for him outside the front door.

Or maybe he’s not dead, maybe someone rescued him. 

No, that second option is ridiculous. 

“Mew?”

“AH!” He jumps as a black, scruffy cat bumps into his shin. 

“H-hello there, little friend, do you happen to know where I am?”

“Mew.” The cat hops onto the back of a nearby chair, and he pets it hesitantly. 

“My, you’re soft. Soft and familiar. Where have I seen you bef-, oh, oh my, it can’t be. He wouldn’t.”

The front door opens and Indrid grabs the cat protectively, spinning to face whatever comes through it. 

“Mornin.”

“It, it is your house.” Indrid stares at Duck, the cat wiggling free of his hold and bounding over to greet her owner.

“Uh, yeah.” Duck slips off his canvas sneakers, grocery bags slipping on his arms as he bends to pet the cat, “where else would it be?”

Indrid looks at the room around him more carefully; the poster for the Monongahela forest, photos on a shelf showing Duck with family and friends, the ranger had hung by the front door. 

“In retrospect, it was a tad obvious. But in my defense, I assumed I was dead and in hell.”

“Geez, my decoratin ain’t that bad.”

“Nono, I’m sorry, I mean-” he stops when a grin cracks Duck’s face, and is managing a smile in return when his back spasms and he grips the chair to keep from falling.

“Shit, you okay?” Duck sets the bags down and hurries over to him. 

“Yes. I, the weapon the Flame used, the side effects can be felt for over a week. It also scrambles the futures in my mind for several days, which tends to make me dizzy.”

“Fuck, that sucks. Uh, I got some Tylenol and other medicine and shit while I was out, wasn’t sure what you’d need, and, uh, don’t usually have it in the house on account of bein super tough. You should probably eat before you take anythin though.”

“Yes, good idea. I, uh, I don’t want to impose, I, I can get something on my way home.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh.” Duck scratches his arm, ashamed, “no, you can’t. You ain’t in any shape to travel, or to be on your own for longer than a few hours. I brought you here so I could look after you somewhere safe, where whoever hurt you couldn’t find you.”

“That’s very kind, Duck, but all the same I should go back to my hideout.”

“Also you’re under house arrest.”

“Excuse me?!” Indrid leaps up, then immediately sits back down, dizzy. 

“Look, when the police saw who I rescued, they kept clamorin for me to turn you over, or to send you to a hospital who would do the same as soon as you opened your eyes. I just...couldn’t do it. So Ned talked ‘em into a deal. You’d stay under house arrest with the Pine Guard, and we’d look after you while also makin sure you couldn’t start nothin.”

“So I’m going to live here. With you.” Indrid tries to sound resigned instead of excited.

“Yep. But, uh, if you need a break or change of scene, or we ain’t gettin along, even though it sees like we been doin a better job of that lately, you can stay with someone else. Aubrey’s place has a real nice garden, and Mama’s is real fortified and cozy-”

“Duck, I want to stay here. I am sure the others are lovely once you get to know them but, well, I trust you. I, you have seen me in vulnerable moments and did not harm me. You didn’t even mock me. I feel safe with you. Also, your cat likes me.” He points to where said cat is now kneading his leg, purring happily. 

“That is a point in your favor. Here, I’m gonna go put away groceries and get some pizza bagels heatin up. You just take it easy right here, okay?”

“I can manage that. But, before you do, please answer me one thing?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you stop fighting me one on one?”

Duck sighs, sitting down so the cat is between them, “I wish I could say it was some strategy or because I wanted to be better at keepin the city safe. Real reason is, I was gettin fonder and fonder of you. I didn’t know what I’d do if we were alone, and not knowin scared the fuck out of me.”

“I see. Was it so alarming to feel affection for me?”

“Wha-no, no, what I meant was that I was afraid I wouldn’t want to hurt you but you’d still want to hurt me, or I’d want to do things with you that you didn’t want but felt like you couldn’t stop me, or, just, any combo of things where conflictin feelins lead to trouble.” 

“Oh.”

Duck stares at him for a moment, waiting for him to say more. But nothing comes. Indrid wants to confess, but he can’t figure out what, exactly, the confession would be. The shorter man’s face falls for an instant, before he smiles again. 

“Guess we’re roommates now.”

“Roommates. Yes.” Indrid wracks his brain for what he knows about how two people live in a space, something he has not done since he ran all those years ago.

When that fails, he draws on his nights in front of the T.V for clues.

“Do I need to label my food? Or hang a sock on the door?”

“What?” Duck giggles

“Those are roommate things!”

“You’re right, you’re right” Duck holds up his hands in surrender, still giggling, “You don’t gotta label food, and no need to hang a sock if you need privacy; that room you’re in is the spare bedroom. Mine’s just across the hall. We can figure out chores and things as we go; might make you clean the bathrooms to make up for all the punchin.”

“That is more than fair.” Indrid smiles.

“There it is.” Duck murmurs.

Indrid cocks his head.

“That smile. You’re happy one, not your evil one. Make’s you look so fuckin stunnin.”

He disappears into the kitchen before Indrid can decide on being flattered or flustered. Settles on both, rolls onto his back on the couch, pulling a large, plaid blanket down onto himself, fuzzes with the pillows to find a position that doesn’t hurt. 

The smell of processed cheese and cheap marinara fills the house as Duck walks in with something hidden behind his back. 

“You might need this while you’re nestin up on the couch.”

He produces the mothman pillow from Indrid’s hide-out, which the villain grabs, wrapping his arms around it.

“Kinda had to give away your hideout. Sorry. They’re gonna bring more of your stuff over later, but they let me put together a box of things you might need right away. Grabbed your toothbrush and such too.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s replies, muffled against the pillow. “Duck, I, I don’t know how, what am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to repay you?”

“You don’t got to. Yeah, there’s some things you could do that’d make both our lives a whole fuck of a lot easier. But Indrid?” He kneels down so they’re face to face, cups the back of Indrid’s head, and it’s tender and warm and Indrid presses into the gesture, desperate for more. 

“Long and short of it is I’m so fuckin glad you’re alive.” 

The chapped lips on his cheek can’t be written off as a dream this time. Duck turns his face gently by his chin to kiss the other and Indrid whimpers.

The timer dings.

“That’s lunch ready. I’ll go grab it, we gotta some calories into you, you been out for nearly whole fuckin day.” He stands, pauses, then reaches forward to trail a thumb on Indrid’s left cheek and down to his lips.

“Don’t you go anywhere.”

Indrid kisses the pad of the thumb before nipping it once, “Not a chance. You are stuck with me, Duck Newton.”

Duck grins, “Think I can handle that”

[marshmallow-phd]

Secret in His Eyes

Spinoff of Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: A vacation exploring China’s famous city was supposed to be relaxing. When you witness a horrifying murder, you instead find yourself in police custody, unable to run. Trying to stay alive, you meet Luhan, and you believe you can trust him. You never imagined that he might be the one you should be running from.

Part: Prologue I 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

**

This city was beautiful. The touristy parts, anyway. You were sure that – like every other city in the world – Beijing had its ugly scars, too. But you stayed in the areas that all the brochures and websites bragged about, saving you from having to see those not-so-shiny places.

You’d been saving up for this trip for the past year and a half. All your life you wanted to experience just one place new. Then you’d be perfectly content going back to your ordinary life with your office job. Or maybe this trip would just make you eager for the next one. It was kind of a toss up at this point in your youth. But you wouldn’t worry about whether or not you could be content with your boring routine until you were back home. For now, you’d continue exploring, taking in the beautiful, ancient architecture that was so unique to the region, visiting the art and history museums to learn more about what you were seeing, and trying all the street food you could get your hands on. Your main focus was to take in all that you could and not forget a single moment.

When you’d first arrived in Beijing, a nauseated feeling had bubbled up in your stomach. You were in foreign territory, completely on your own, with very little knowledge on how to navigate this roaring city. The feeling refused to die down as you checked into your hotel and searched the maps you’d been given by the front desk worker for something to eat. Even with as exhausted as you were from traveling, sleep didn’t come easy. By some miracle, however, you woke up the next morning much more at ease with your surroundings. Still nervous about getting lost or accidentally offending someone, but it wasn’t as threatening a feeling as it had been before. Going throughout your day, you nearly forgot all about your worries, too absorbed in your findings to pay attention to it.

By day three, you were practically a local. It was so magical, each new finding, that you couldn’t believe this was truly your reality, like soon you’d wake up to find it was all a dream.

“Oh, back again?”

You blushed as you bobbed your head in greeting. There was one vendor in the market place near your hotel that you kept coming back to. A mother and daughter team sold the most delicious baozi you’d ever tasted. Granted, your experience was limited to a few blocks, but it was a common street food and none compared to this dynamic duo’s. While the mother didn’t speak English, you were able to communicate with the daughter well enough.

“It’s my favorite treat,” you admitted shyly. The daughter waived you closer before pulling out two steaming, fresh buns, wrapping them carefully before holding them out to you. When you started to pull out your wallet, she shook her head. “No. These are just for you. Since you like them so much.”

You pursed your lips. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve been a loyal customer,” she laughed. “It’s the least we could do! However,” she rounded the cart, coming up close to you as she lowered her voice, “tonight is the Shangyuan Festival. My mother will be staying in, but if you would like to join me to make her happy that I won’t be alone, we’ll consider that payment.”

It still didn’t seem fair, but you laughed anyway. “Yes, of course!” You’d noticed the streets being decorated with paper lanterns since your arrival – some were the traditional round red ones you were used to, but others were shaped like flowers and animals, beautifully crafted and painted, making you stare in awe. “It’d be nice to have someone show me the festival.”

“Good! It’s settled then. We will close before the sun sets, so meet me here then. We’ll walk my mother home and then I will show you the festival!”

You nodded eagerly. Before parting so you could hurry to your other planned activities for the afternoon, you finally learned the daughter’s name: Shishi. It was cute and not something you’d really heard before.

The afternoon hours seemed to fly by and before you knew it, the sun was beginning to disappear from the sky. As quickly as you could, you ran back to the stall, careful not to ram anyone down in the process. Shishi was still waiting for you patiently, her mother shaking her head at you in a scolding manner.

“I’m so sorry,” you huffed, half doubled over from your exhausting sprint.

“It’s okay,” Shishi laughed at you. “Let’s get Mother home and then we’ll attend the festival.”

You nodded and stepped back for her to lead the way. Their home wasn’t too far from the stall and once Shishi saw her mother inside, the two of you took off towards another district in the city where a big crowd had gathered near the Chaobai River.

Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hung from nearly ever ledge. Children ran around the streets while carrying sticks that held small paper fish on the ends of strings, making it looking like schools of fish were swimming through the air. Different sweet scents drifted up to your nose, making your mouth water.

Perhaps seeing that ravenous look in your eye, Shishi pulled you over to one of the vendors, getting each of you one of those sugar coated sweets made by the true experts of the trade. The artists didn’t have fancy, expensive culinary schooling; they simply had tradition and a love for the for food.

You continued to walk along the street in order to take in all the sights happening around you. This was the reason you’d come to the beautiful city of Beijing. The joy and laughter around you was infectious and you felt as if you were on the receiving end of a precious gift. All the pictures and blogs in the world couldn’t truly capture the feeling, the essence of the festival and the deep rooted traditions happening before your very eyes. No matter what happened to you on this trip, you knew tonight would be something that you would never forget.

**

Luhan leaned back in his chair and waited rather impatiently for the underling to arrive. It was ten minutes past the time he was told to be here and Luhan was losing his patience.

For the past month, he’d had a man inside the main police department of Beijing and he needed his updates. Lately, the cops had been one step ahead of him while conducting his deals, putting several of his suppliers behind bars and ruining his business. His own customers were getting antsy, hence why he needed the information to squash the rat.

Leaning up against the wall to his right, Kris chewed on a toothpick between his teeth. “I thought he was supposed to be here by now.”

“Unfortunately, Xiaofei isn’t known for his punctuality,” Luhan huffed. He picked up the glass ball he kept on his desk and inspected it, although there was nothing wrong with the small paperweight. In the low lighting of his office, he could only make out a faint shadow on the smooth glass rather than his reflection. The small globe was almost completely see-through except for the etched continents covering the surface. While he couldn’t quite say that he held the world in his hands, the little globe gave him a sense of accomplishment, even when things went a little askew.

“I still think we should have sent someone else,” Tao whined from the couch. He was staring up at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head for a pillow as he reclined on his back. His suit jacket was draped across the back of the couch to save it from wrinkling.

Luhan rolled his eyes. He was tired of having this conversation over and over again. “Xiaofei already had connections within the office, I’ve told you that. Plus, he’d be able to blend better than most.”

There weren’t many people in the world Luhan could trust, the top two being in this room. Everyone who worked for him was under constant surveillance and he occasionally had to clean out the filth with little crumbs of fake information. It was how he survived all these years. The Chinese underworld was ruthless. He hardly had a moment where he wasn’t watching his back.

Just then, the door to the office creaked open. Tao sat up, eyeing the crack that wasn’t quite big enough to let a human through while Luhan placed the globe back down on the desk with a heavy thump. The vaguest outline of a shadow, visible against the white door frame, flinched at the sound. Luhan could practically smell the stench of fear radiating off of the underling from his seat.

Picking up his feet and placing them back down on the floor, Luhan growled, “Just come in before I lose my patience and shoot you through the door.”

That little threat did the trick. Xiaofei scurried inside the office, closing the door behind him with a sound that was halfway between a click and a slam. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if he was trying to keep the contents of his stomach from spilling out onto the rug. The police uniform Xiaofei had been given was wrinkled and half untucked. Were his men really such slobs?

Clearing his throat, Xiaofei straightened up and then bowed at a ninety-degree angle. He was putting on a brave front, they all knew. And Luhan would let him play his little act.

“Sir, I have not been able to find the leak within the department as of yet.” The voice that left Xiaofei’s mouth didn’t match the round, burly face he was born with. It was of a higher pitch, not fit for his age. The face that Luhan imaged the voice belonging to was one of a rat, pointed and sharp, all the features focused in on the center. It was a face that fit Xiaofei’s character much more closely.

“Did you even really try?” Tao spat. His dark eyes were narrowed at the underling. He was not one to take kindly to a lack of results.

“Y-yes, sir,” Xiaofei bowed quickly to the silver-haired boss. “The department is very tight-lipped. They don’t take too kindly to new faces. It’ll take me another few months to get them to trust me.”

“We don’t have another few months,” Kris snarled, flicking the toothpick at the trembling man. The little piece of wood stuck to Xiaofei’s shoulder, but he made no attempt to brush it away, accepting the small but humiliating action.

Luhan let out a long sigh in order to make his displeasure known in a much more subtle manner. “Xiaofei.” The man flinched at the sound of his name even though Luhan didn’t raise his voice above a causal level. “Before I sent you in there, you swore to me that you had connections inside. Now, that wasn’t a lie, was it?”

“No, sir, I swear!” Xiaofei staggered on his feet as he tried to plead for his life. As soon as Luhan stood, the coward fell to his knees in a showy sign of respect. “My connections are good. It’ll just take a little more time. Please. I will find the leak. I swear it.”

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, Luhan bent down and stared Xiaofei down. “You have one month left. I suggest you bring me back something viable at the end of that time frame. If you don’t, then you’ll be replaced.” Letting him go with a forceful shove, Luhan headed for the door. He only paused long enough to give one last warning. “I like to think of this organization as a well-oiled, well-maintenanced machine. The only way to keep it working is to upgrade the parts that have become useless. And there’s only one thing to do with useless parts, isn’t there?”

Though Xiaofei didn’t look back at Luhan, the shiver that ran down his spine and shook his shoulders was visible enough proof that the message had been received. With confident steps, Luhan glided down the hall of the mansion he called home. Soon, he would find out who was undermining his operations and he would make sure they regretted ever going up against The Deer before he ended their life for good.

**

Your feet were aching and throbbing, but you still weren’t ready to go home for the night. Stuffed full of delicious street food made only during this special time, you continued to follow Shishi through the crowds, stopping every once in a while to watch a choreographed dance by a group of performers ora magic show put on by a man you suspected might be tricking the audience in more ways than one.

The stars above were beginning to come alive for the night, adding to the mystical atmosphere. Only the strongest were able to be made out against the fading backdrop thanks to the stronger lights of the city. It made you a little sad, not being able to see a sky full of twinkling stars, but you pushed that emotion away, preferring to focus on the happier commotion around you.

However, when you brought your eyes back to the festival, Shishi was gone. You whirled around several times, but you couldn’t find her. Over and over, you called out, but no reply was ever sent back your way. Frantically, you shoved through the crowd. Had something happened to her? Or had you simply been separated? It was your own fault for dawdling and not paying attention. Panic was starting to set in. Until you saw a familiar bun of black hair resting on top of a head that was about Shishi’s height.

You followed the bun through the crowd until the owner disappeared into an alleyway. She took a few more twists and turns before you finally caught up to her, grabbing her shoulder in relief.

“Shishi!”

When she turned around, however, you were frustrated to find that it wasn’t your friend, but a stranger you’d never seen before. She threw you a snarled look even as you bowed out an apology over and over again. Soon you were alone again and utterly lost. The only light to see by came from the more occupied main streets, but you weren’t sure which one you should head towards to try and find your way back. Every direction looked the same. You cursed yourself for not paying more attention the further you got from the main street.  

Crash!

You jumped back against the brick wall, collapsing down to hide in the shadow of a dumpster when you saw a man fall to the cracking asphalt, his head bouncing off the ground as he landed hard on his back. Even in the dim light, you could make out a stream of blood running down from his nose and over his lips before dripping off his chin. When another man stepped into your line of vision, you shrank farther back, practically melding with the grime-covered trash bin.

The man who was still standing pulled out a gun and pointed it down at the one on the ground. As if knowing that his end was near, the first man simply groaned and turned his face upwards towards the sky. The man with the gun chuckled and began speaking in Mandarin. You couldn’t understand a majority of the words leaving his mouth, but one word did stick out to you: Lu. He repeated it a few times, mixed around in sentences that you couldn’t make out.

Then he shot the man on the ground, the bullet slicing through his forehead.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that your shock and horror forced out. Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth, praying that he hadn’t heard you. Seeing that there was just enough space between the wall and the dumpster, you scrambled to better hide yourself, hoping that you weren’t simply jumping into the barrel for an easier target.

Footsteps slowly headed in your direction, crackling the loose pebbles under his shoes with each step. You squeezed your eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. And apparently, someone was.

Sirens blared from a street close by. You barely caught the man disappearing around the corner when you risked opening your eyes. Slowly, you crawled out from behind the dumpster. Your hand landed warm and sticky, making you jump back with a scream when you realized it was blood pooling out from the dead man’s head.

Two new voices shouted and you threw your hands up to show you were unarmed. A bright light made you squint and you couldn’t tell who was approaching you, but you hoped it was the police. The light finally lowered. You let out a sigh of relief. The two officers lowered their guns and exchanged dumbfounded looks.

You had no idea what kind of mess you’d stumbled into.

[hms-chill]

Coming Home

It's been years since either Alex or Henry has had a place that they can really settle into and call 'home'. Luckily, Henry has just bought the perfect one.

Kensington has never felt much like a place Henry lives. It feels like a hotel, a beautifully impersonal place to stay for a few nights before moving on. When Alex visits, he sees more of himself in the warren of rooms than he ever sees of Henry (though that may be due to their differing levels of cleanliness). Henry appears in the little things, in his journals and books and that damn copy of Le Monde that makes Alex feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but even the bedroom still feels like a hotel until Alex plops a bag into an ancient chair and lets his shoes fall haphazardly on the antique rug. He leaves things scattered around the room, and Henry asks if he's trying to spread his manifest destiny to his former ruler.

Alex doesn't say anything, and he certainly doesn't tell Henry that Bea occasionally sends him pictures of Henry wearing the sweatshirts and pajama pants he leaves behind. Those are saved in a special folder on his phone, and the way Henry looks in his clothes, everything a bit too short, is one of the best things he can imagine. Kensington may not look or feel like Henry's home, but it is still a place he can relax. It's a place where he can wear clothes that don't fit quite right but remind him that he's loved, wholly and unconditionally.

Alex especially doesn't tell Henry that he's printed a photo from Bea of Henry and David curled up in an antique chair, Henry wearing Alex's old lacrosse t-shirt and reading his copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban, or that the photo is framed on his desk. He just keeps leaving dirty clothes and battered paperbacks and color coded notes around Henry's rooms as if to scream that someone lives there. Someone lives in these staged rooms, and someone uses this museum furniture, and that someone is dating a queer brown American. Centuries of racist, homophobic monarchy can deal.

The White House bedroom is a bit more Alex's than Kensington is Henry's, but it's not really his, either. The White House is, after all, America's house. His family are essentially long-term renters, and no matter how much he tries to settle in, it's still a borrowed space. In four years, some other first child will come along. They'll find the message behind the wallpaper and the few unsealed windows, and maybe they'll paint over his walls like he painted over Sasha's. Hopefully they'll replace the ugly dog painting in the hallway.

He doesn't have quite the warren Henry does, and Henry doesn't settle into spaces the way Alex does in Kensington, but that doesn't mean he doesn't show up in the White House bedroom. He's in the V&A map hanging beside the congressional schedule and in the stacks of classics beside the Hamilton biography on Alex's bookshelf. When he visits, he doesn't stay in Alex's room, but Alex accumulates more and more little pieces of Henry every time. There's the Smithsonian guide book Henry bought and left, the tickets from their trip up the Washington Monument, and the 'emergency jumper' that Henry stores in Alex's closet and Alex absolutely does not study in. He is far too dignified to cozy up in his boyfriend's sweater and let the too-big sleeves flop over his hands (he doesn't know it, but Henry has a framed photo of him working in the jumper and his glasses, courtesy of June). Still, every time Alex hangs something on a wall or moves something in, it's with the knowledge that he will have to move it out in a few years.

The bedroom in the house in Texas that he'd move it to, though, isn't really Alex's anymore, either. It's the bedroom of the person Alex used to be, before he met the love of his life, found out he was bi, caused an international sex scandal, and learned to stop living ten years down the road. It's the bedroom of a boy who refused to look anywhere but dead ahead, and it shows. For years, there was a family photo on the desk, but he'd shoved it into the back of a drawer sometime during the divorce and never bothered to unearth it. There is a photo of him with June and Nora hanging on a bulletin board, but it's surrounded by old to do lists, tutoring schedules, an out of date calendar, and plans for 2016 campaign stops. The walls are decorated with memorabilia from Ravael Luna's and his mom's first campaigns, nearly covering a lacrosse team poster. It's the bedroom of a boy whose only goal was politics, now foreign and slightly dusty from disuse, and a part of Alex cringes every time he sees it. He wasn't happy when he lived in the room as it is now, not really.

Henry says it's good he doesn't fit the room anymore; it means he's grown in the four years since he lived there. That doesn't mean it's not strange to go home to a place that raised him, but no longer feels like home.

His dad's house out in California is the same way, though it never felt like home. Alex has a room there, but it's never really been his, no matter how many campaign posters he hung on the wall or lists he hid between the matress and the box spring. The lake house is the only place from his childhood that remains unchanged, and it's somewhere indescribably special to him, but it was never fully home. It's a place to relax and recharge, a great vacation home, but it's not somewhere he ever fully moved into.

In short, when Ellen Claremont-Diaz is re-elected, neither Alex nor Henry have a place that truly feels like home. Luckily, Henry's bought one. He's bought a four-bedroom Brooklyn brownstone where they can live together, and when he shows Alex the listing, Alex nearly smothers him in affection. They spend election night curled up in a bed that used to be Alex's, looking through floor plans and photos until they fall asleep.

-

When he crosses the threshold of the brownstone for the first time, Henry's hand in his, Alex can't help but imagine what it will be. They'll paint the walls and furnish it themselves, and everything in it will be theirs, al theirs. No more beds bought by dead people, no ugly paintings as political gestures, no jumping through hoops to put a nail in the wall and hang one picture. Henry tugs him forward, leading the way through the house they get to settle into together. Sure, another family may have lived here before, but it feels refreshingly new after their old homes. There are no ghosts in these walls, no centuries of previous owners to contend with. It's a new place for their new life together.

Hand in hand, they explore the living room, deciding where to put the TV and how big of a sectional they can fit in the space. They decide which bedroom to share, and Alex calls dibs on an office, and they plan out a decorating scheme for the guest bedroom that all of their friends and family will be comfortable with. They pick paint colors and enlist the help of June, Nora, and as many secret service and PPOs as they can, and by the end of the day, they're sleeping on the floor of a well-painted house.

The next morning, they take their regular fleet of security vans and spend the morning at Ikea, making final furniture decisions over meatballs and enlisting Cash and Amy to help carry boxes. The photo Henry takes of the living room two hours later shows Amy sitting on the couch she's built and Nora leaning against a bookshelf she put together while Alex and Cash are surrounded by a pile of boards and screws that should be an entertainment center. Eventually, a pizza dinner happens on the coffee table, with paper plates, the first card games in the new house, and lots of laughter. That night, they've moved their sleeping bags to a mattress that should go on a bed they haven't built yet.

They take the building and move in process slowly, interspersing it with walks around their new neighborhood and coffee runs to new shops nearby. They've dedicated the second day to their individual offices, but by noon, Alex has spent as much time in Henry's office as he has in his own, and the same is true for Henry. Which means that after lunch, they're dragging Henry's desk and bookshelf into Alex's office, re-organizing a bit, and planning another trip to Ikea to furnish a second guest room in what used to be Henry's office. By the third night, they're sleeping in a bed (though it doesn't have sheets yet), and when the moving van arrives on day four, the furniture is finished and it's beginning to feel like a home.

Day four is dedicated to all of the personal belongings left in their respective former homes. Cash and Amy help with the heavy lifting as Henry fills most of their bookshelves, leaving an anthology of queer fairy tales on the coffee table. Alex settles into the kitchen, hanging pots and pans from a rack on the ceiling and adding a command hook for his apron near his beloved coffee machine. Henry hangs a framed, pressed green carnation from Bea beside two of Alex's framed photos: one of a gay couple holding a sign that says "STAY OUT OF MY OUR BEDROOM" and another of a man whose jacket says "IF I DIE OF AIDS- FORGET BURIAL- JUST DROP MY BODY ON THE STEPS OF THE FDA". Nora stops by with a plant and a pair of pride flags for them, and June brings them a photo book of supportive street art from around the world. Shaan buys Henry an 'out of the closet' mug with queer figures from history on it, and Zahra gets Alex one that says 'Dumbest Creature on Earth' as housewarming gifts, and they find a home between the coffee maker and the electric kettle.

David finds his beds scattered around the house, one in nearly every room so he has a place to go if he needs it. By the fifth night in their new home, Alex walks into the bedroom to find Henry cuddled up and reading under the framed issue of Le Monde, wearing one of Alex's t-shirts with David dozing at his feet. He looks content and settled, and it is the most wonderful sight Alex can imagine.

Notes:

Ya girl's back to working in theatre, and since I got into theatre through set that means I'm back to thinking about physical space. I always feel weird writing about settings in prose, because I love the little details but I feel like describing them detracts from the overall mood and plot. Last time I was struggling with something I wrote up a little firstprince study, and y'all were great, so I'd love any feedback on how space is working for you in this. Is there enough of a balance between little details and bigger plot points? Does the space feel real/like it helps develop character? Let me know!

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